Surrender the Heart (31 page)

He turned away. “How do you know?”

News of young Jacob’s death had spread quickly through Baltimore, but no word followed as to the cause. An accident was all they’d heard. Afterward, Noah never accompanied his father when the man came to visit Marianne’s family.

“I know you, Noah.”

“Do you?” Agony burned in his eyes. He ground his teeth together. “I caused him to fall.” He tore his gaze from her. “I challenged him to race up through the ratlines and around the lubber’s hole while I timed him.”

Marianne stepped toward him, but he raised a hand to stop her.
The ship bucked, blasting them with salty spray.

“It was my idea.” His voice cracked. “He was teasing me because of my fear. It made me angry, so I challenged him to best a time only a seasoned topman could match.” He hung his head.

A gust of wind whipped over them. Noah’s Adam’s apple leapt as he swallowed. “I held his bloody head in my hands and watched him die.”

Marianne’s vision blurred. The horror of it. The agony. She could not comprehend. Her throat burned as she tried to gather her thoughts, but they refused to settle on anything rational, on anything comforting. She laid a hand on his arm. This time, he did not resist.

“You meant him no harm, Noah. It was an accident.” Yet her words seemed to fall empty upon the angry waves thrashing against the hull.

“Tell that to my father.” Noah frowned. “Jacob the good son, the smart son, the brave son.” He shifted moist eyes her way. “He wished it had been me who’d died.”

Marianne shook her head, wanting to comfort him, but not finding the words.

“And I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make it up to him.” He gripped the railing and stared out to sea. “But nothing I do will ever be enough.”

The weight of his guilt pressed down on Marianne. How could anyone live with this kind of pain, this burden? No wonder Noah was driven to succeed. It wasn’t for the money, for the prestige, it was in payment for the death of his brother.

And his father had encouraged it, fostered it. It was, no doubt, why Noah had agreed to marry her—a woman he didn’t love.

“I miss him.” He rubbed his eyes again then straightened his shoulders. “Forgive me, Miss Denton. It seems exhaustion has loosened my tongue.”

“There is no need for apologies.” Marianne longed to comfort him but, as in most things, she felt woefully inadequate to the task. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “No one can bear the weight of
this, Noah. You must let it go.” A tear slid down her cheek.

He stared at her curiously. Lifting his hand, he wiped her tear with his thumb then caressed her cheek. His touch sent a wave of heat across her skin that made her thoughts swirl and her body reel.

It meant nothing, she reminded herself. He was beyond exhaustion. He was angry and despondent. Surely any woman with a listening ear and a caring heart would suffice to appease his loneliness. Marianne knew she should leave. She needed to leave, but the look in his eyes held her captive—a look that slowly wandered down to her mouth and hovered over her lips as if only there could he find the sustenance he needed. Marianne’s breath halted in her throat.

Then he lowered his lips to hers.

A quiver spread down Marianne’s back. Warmth flooded her belly. Noah’s lips caressed hers, playing, stroking, hovering. His hot breath feathered over her cheek. She drew it in, filling her lungs with his scent. He caressed her cheek, her neck, and ran his fingers through her loose curls.

Laughter shot through the night air, startling her and jerking Noah back.

“That ought to keep the blasted Yankee awake.” One of the watchman chortled to another man who’d just leapt on deck.

Heat flamed up Marianne’s neck. She attempted to regain her breath.

Noah’s jaw tightened. “My apologies, Miss Denton.” Then avoiding her gaze, he marched away.

Marianne laid a hand on her stomach and stared out to sea. Not exactly the reaction she expected from the first man she allowed to kiss her.

CHAPTER 16

M
arianne fell onto her bed and sobbed. Her first kiss. She should be elated, filled with joy. For she had never thought any man would find her alluring enough to kiss unless it was forced upon him by marriage. Why then did she cry? Sitting up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and tried to regain her senses, traitorous senses that had danced in a delightful flurry when Noah’s lips touched hers. Not simply touched, but caressed as if he truly cherished her.

But that couldn’t be. Especially not Noah Brenin.

Noah had not slept in nearly three nights, she reminded herself. The moonlight, the late hour, the slap of the sea against the hull, and Marianne lending a caring ear to his woeful tale, all combined to create an atmosphere, a desire that was, if not imaginary, surely ephemeral. In his weary delirium, Noah had simply given in to the manly desires Marianne’s mother had warned her about.

Then why did she care?

This infuriating, reckless boy who had done nothing but make her life miserable as a child, who had shunned her and teased her until she cried herself to sleep at night. This oaf who had abandoned
her at their engagement party.

Then why did she wish for something more?

Why did he consume her thoughts day and night? And why did the touch of his lips on hers send a warm flutter through her body?

A kiss. She’d been kissed at last. Marianne smiled and brushed her fingers over her lips. She had no idea it could be so pleasurable.

But in that pleasure she also sensed a power that could rip her heart in two.

Following a line of crewmen, Noah lifted his heavy legs and climbed through the hatch onto the main deck. He rubbed his eyes against the glare of the rising sun that promised a warm day ahead. When the watchman had relieved him of his punishment at four in the morning, he could hardly believe it, for he had begun to think his penalty was more eternal than hell itself. Stumbling below like a drunken man, he had crawled into his hammock. Two hours of sleep. Two hours of precious slumber was all he’d been granted in the wee hours of the morning. But it was the sweetest sleep he’d ever had. In fact, he hadn’t even heard the boatswain’s cries “All hands ahoy. Up all hammocks ahoy,” nor the scrambling of his mates unhooking their bedding around him. Not until Weller and Luke—who had been released at the same time as Noah had—dumped him from his hammock and he fell to the hard deck below did he snap from his deep slumber.

Noah’s thoughts sped to the kiss he had shared with Marianne last night. No, it was not last night, but the night before. After she had fled the deck, the rest of that night and all the next day and night had blurred past him in turbulent shades of gray and white and black like a fast-moving storm. Visions of her maroon gown, brown hair, and full lips mingled with holystones and oak planks into a disjointed mirage that had him wondering if he had only dreamed of the kiss.

But no. He could still feel the tingle on his mouth. What madness had possessed him to taste her sweet lips? What madness had
possessed her to accept his advance? Whatever the disease, he hoped there was no cure. She had responded with more passion than he would have guessed existed within her. For years, he thought her nothing more than a pretentious prig. When in reality … His body warmed at the remembrance. Was it possible she cared for him? Or did she kiss him out of pity or to make amends for what she had done? Since he had not seen her in over a day, he had no way of knowing.

“To your stations!” a boatswain brayed, and the crew scrambled to take their assigned watches across the deck where they would assist with the sailing of the ship or perform necessary maintenance. Normally the crew swept and holystoned the deck each morning, but due to the gleaming shine glaring from the wooden planks—thanks to Noah—he had saved them at least that chore.

One would think they’d thank Noah instead of shower him with grimy looks of contempt.

Flinging himself into the ratlines, Noah followed Blackthorn to the tops, trying to shake the cobwebs from his weary brain even as his old fear rose like bile in his throat. If he could not keep his concentration, he might end up a pile of broken bones and blood splattered on his clean deck—a tragedy after all his scouring.

“Good to ‘ave you back,” Blackthorn said as they positioned themselves on the footrope.

A gust of salty wind clawed at Noah’s grip on the yard. “I’d like to say the same, my friend, but I’d rather be on the deck than up here where only birds and clouds have God’s good grace to be.” Noah tried to blink away the heaviness weighing down his eyelids.

Blackthorn smiled. The wind whistled through the gaps left by the two missing teeth on his bottom row. “Sink me, I’ll look out after you.”

Noah nodded his appreciation.

The ship pitched over a wave, and Noah gripped the yard. His feet swayed on the footrope. Every rise and fall and roll of the ship seemed magnified in the tops. His legs quivered, and Blackthorn clutched his arm. Though the morning was young, sweat slid down Noah’s back, and he wondered how he would survive the day.

The sharp crack of a rattan split the air, drawing his gaze below to where Luke and his watch mates battled a tangled rope. His first mate winced beneath the strike even as the petty officer glanced at Lieutenant Garrick at the helm. For approval? For direction? Or to plead with the lieutenant for mercy? Noah couldn’t tell. Regardless, Garrick nodded at the petty officer then chuckled at his fellow lieutenants lined up at the quarterdeck stanchions like cannons in a battlement. None joined him in his mirth.

Luke swept his gaze up to Noah. Even from the tops, Noah could see the bruises covering his face. Released from his irons around the same time Noah had been sent below, they’d barely managed to grunt at each other before they took to their hammocks.

The ship plunged down the trough of another swell, and Noah hugged the yard and curled his bare toes over the rope. After his heart settled to a normal beat, he turned to Blackthorn. “What has Luke done to incur such wrath from Lieutenant Garrick?”

“Sink me, who knows with that blackguard?” His friend spit to the side. “He hates everyone, ‘specially Yankees. Before they assigned me t’ the tops, he used to have me whipped too.”

“Reef the topsail!” the order came from below. Men on deck began hauling the tackles. Noah bent over the yard to pull in the reef lines, but he had difficulty keeping his mind on his task. If he didn’t get Miss Denton and his men off this ship soon, he doubted any of them would survive.