Surrender the Heart (16 page)

“Dinner is served.”

Noah glanced up from his desk to see Luke entering the room with Matthew scrambling in behind him, carrying a tray of steaming food.

“Have you heard of knocking?”

“Not when we bring such delicious fare.” Luke kicked the door shut as Matthew set the tray on top of Noah’s charts. The savory scent of chicken and the aroma of fresh biscuits filled Noah’s nose and he licked his lips. “I thought your wife was still indisposed.”

“Aye, that she is.” Matthew and Luke exchanged an odd glance.

“Then am I to assume that she prepared this food from her bed?” Noah stood, irritation grinding his nerves at whatever secret the two men shared.

Luke lifted his brows, a mischievous look on his face. “Miss Denton cooked the meal tonight.”

Noah allowed the words to needle through his mind, seeking a thread of reason. He dropped his gaze to the plateful of glazed brown chicken and two biscuits. Beside it, a spicy fish scent spiraled upward from a bowl of steaming soup. His mouth watered.

“Quite tasty if you ask me.” Matthew licked his lips.

“Miss Denton made this?” Noah eyed them both curiously.

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw her myself.”

Tearing a piece of chicken from the bone, Noah tossed it in his mouth. Tender, moist, and somewhat flavorful. “Astonishing.”

“Though not as good as your wife’s cooking, Matthew, this is certainly satisfying, especially since I thought I would go hungry tonight.” Noah bit into a biscuit, surprised when he found a buttery soft texture within the hard crust.

Seafoam nudged his arm and meowed.

“Even the cat knows good cookin’ when she sees it.” Matthew laughed.

Noah picked up Seafoam, scratched her head, then set her down on the deck. “Go below and find a rat to gnaw on. This meal is mine.”

“Not bad for a woman who never did an ounce of work her entire life.” Luke’s voice rang with sarcasm.

A vision of blistered hands invaded Noah’s thoughts. Who was Miss Denton? Certainly not the spoiled little chit who would go crying to her mama whenever a speck of dirt appeared on her dress. Certainly not the princess who would call a servant over to pick up a handkerchief she had dropped. And then snub her nose at Noah when the maid instantly complied. Either this Miss Denton was not Miss Denton at all, but an imposter, or she deserved a chorus of cheers for such a convincing performance.

Marianne shot up in bed, her heart pounding. Had she overslept? So exhausted after cooking for hours, she’d fallen onto her mattress in the hopes of getting a few hours’ sleep before putting her plan into motion. Dashing to the porthole, she searched for any hint of dawn, but the night still hung its dark curtain over the sea. A myriad of stars winked at her as if prodding her onward. She must make her way down to the hold to discover a way to ruin Noah’s cargo. Even as the thought sparked her to action, guilt rapped on the door of her conscience. But she would not answer. She couldn’t. Her mother’s life depended on it. Besides, when she and Noah married, Noah would have all the wealth
he needed, and he wouldn’t need to work so hard. She was actually doing him a favor.

Striking flint to steel, she lit the lantern on the table, then tucked a knife she’d taken from the kitchen into the pocket of her gown.

She swung the door open, cringed at the loud squeak echoing off the bulkheads, then tiptoed out into the hallway, or companion-way, whatever it was called. She listened for any sounds from sailors who might still be about, but nothing but the bone-chilling creaks and groans of the ship and the rush of water against its hull met her ears. From what she had observed, most of the men slept through the night in a section beneath the forecastle by the bow, while the other half kept watch on the top deck, the two groups switching every four hours. Noah’s officers slept in separate cabins.

Which meant Marianne could slip into the hold undetected.

Lifting the lantern, she made her way down the steep ladder, and thought to say a prayer for her success, but then decided against it. Though God rarely answered her prayers, she was sure this was a petition He would not only refuse to answer but would frown upon.

The narrow steps creaked and bowed with each footfall. Moisture formed on her neck and arms. At the bottom of the ladder, Marianne scanned the dark hallway to her left and recognized the door of the cursed room that had entrapped her aboard this ship in the first place. The stench of mold, stale water, and something akin to rotten eggs assailed her, and she flung a hand to her nose. Nausea waged a battle in her stomach.

When it passed, she lifted the lantern and scanned the area to her right. Another set of stairs descended to an open lower level stacked to the ceiling with crates, barrels, and huge sacks.

Gathering her courage, she inched down the final ladder. The
pitter-pat
of tiny feet filled the hold, sounding like raindrops on a roof.
Drat
. Marianne froze. Rats.
Oh Lord, maybe I will pray after all. If You are so inclined, Lord, please keep the filthy beasts away from me
. At the bottom, she took a step over the pebbles scattered across the hold floor. The light from her lantern arched before her like a golden shield.
Long, furry tails disappeared in the dark gaps between the crates.

She trembled. Resisting the urge to turn around and run to the safety of her cabin, she swallowed her fears and continued onward. She had no choice.
For you, Mama. If you could see me now, you’d be so proud of me
. Unlike Papa who rarely had a kind word for her unless he was well into his cups.

Perspiration slid down her back and dotted her forehead. The sea pounded against the sides of the ship as if it knew what she was about and wanted to stop her. Could it break through the wooden hull and grab her? Mr. Weller had said no.

Several barrels of water and rum sat within easy reach of the bottom of the ladder. But she was not interested in those. Placing one foot in front of the other, she inched her way down an incline to a lower section. Once there, she began examining the crates one by one. As far as she could tell, most were filled with iron tools and fabric. She moved to another section of barrels. Water and rum for the journey no doubt. But it was the sacks that interested her the most. Flour from the mills at Jones’s falls in Baltimore and rice from Charleston.

Even if she managed to open the crates, she could not damage iron and besides, the only way to be rid of it would be to haul it up on deck and toss it to the sea—unlikely given her lack of strength and the fact that her deed would not go unnoticed.

But the flour and rice. She smiled. And rum and water. A terrible combination.

From the corner of her eye she glimpsed something too large to be a rat moving. Marianne gasped, and grabbing the lantern tighter, swung in that direction. What other repulsive creatures lived down here? A loud squeak shot through the dank air. Oh my, maybe it was a very large rodent. She gulped.

Then out from the shadows strolled Seafoam, a squirming rat in her mouth. Marianne backed away in horror even as her heart settled to a normal beat. The cat pranced up to her and dropped the rat proudly at her feet. Trouble was, it wasn’t dead. Hobbling across the pebbles, the poor beast tried to make its escape. Seafoam leapt in the
air and pounced upon it, this time killing it.

Nausea resurging, Marianne pressed a hand to her stomach as Seafoam deposited the lifeless rodent at Marianne’s feet, then glanced up at her as if seeking approval.

Despite her queasiness, Marianne couldn’t help but smile at the cat’s kindness. “For me?” She set the lantern atop a barrel and stooped to pet the cat. Seafoam purred affectionately and circled her, rubbing against her legs.

“You are a brave hunter, little one. But you may have your prey. I’ve already eaten.” Marianne scooped the cat up in her arms and snuggled against her, cheek to cheek. Noah’s scent filled her nostrils, sending an odd warmth through her. She remembered the gentle way he had nestled the cat against his chest—in such contrast with his harsh, all-business demeanor.

“I have work to do, little one.” She set the cat atop one of the crates, and Seafoam plopped down and began licking her paws and rubbing them on her face.

Marianne pulled the knife from her pocket. “Now, I know you and the captain are good friends, but you must promise me you’ll keep silent about this, agreed?”

Seafoam stopped her grooming and yawned before continuing.

“I shall take that as a yes.” Then, knife in hand, Marianne swung about and began slashing through the sacks of rice.

CHAPTER 9

N
oah shut his cabin door and trudged down the companionway in as foul a mood on the start of this new day as he’d been for the past three. He ran a hand through his hair and plopped his hat atop his head. Although he’d intentionally avoided Miss Denton during that time, he’d heard enough about her from everyone around him.

“Miss Denton is so kind.” “Miss Denton is so generous with her time and strength.” “Miss Denton is so witty, smart, capable, honest.”
Could he not escape the woman? Had she cast a spell on everyone around her? Everyone save him. For he knew the real Marianne Denton. Pompous, spoiled, and self-serving. At least that was the way he remembered her. And the reason he had teased her so as a child.

Weaving around a corner, he nodded at a passing sailor and scaled the ladder to the upper deck in two leaps, ascending to where he hoped to continue evading the woman. For she rarely came on deck. Why she confined herself to the heat and stale air below, he could not fathom. No doubt it was part of her plan, along with her drastic change in character, to invoke his sympathies so he would take her home.

But Noah was no fool.

Sunlight struck him along with a cool ocean breeze, feathering the hair against the collar of his shirt. Agnes’s bubbling laughter bounced over him, drawing his gaze to a group of sailors clustered around the mainmast. In their midst, sitting atop a chair, sat Miss Denton with a rope tying her and the chair to the mast. Agnes perched upon a barrel beside her, a huge smile on her chubby face. Noah halted and tried to rub the strange apparition from his eyes.

The sailors chuckled at something Miss Denton said, and she graced them with a smile before returning her attention to a book laid open on her lap.

“‘And the king spake and said to Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions?’” she quoted.