Surrender the Heart (37 page)

Noah could not imagine to what Marianne was referring, nor did he care at the moment. All that concerned him was the look of complete admiration and care beaming from those rich brown eyes.

When had the shrew transformed into an angel? Despite the pain lancing across his back, his heart filled with an affection for her he hadn’t thought possible. He could not seem to stop caressing her cheek. So soft. So moist with tears—tears for him.

“My inheritance.” She began twisting the ring around her finger.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Noah surprised himself at the veracity of his statement. For he truly didn’t care about the money anymore. Nor about his father’s merchant business. All that mattered was this precious creature before him and that he must do everything in his power to protect her.

“I suppose you’re right, but I need to tell you anyway.” She lifted her lashes. “There is nothing but the seven thousand dollars of my inheritance left.” She spat out the words so quickly, their meaning left him stunned.

He stopped caressing her cheek. “But my father informed me the Denton fortune is worth thirty thousand.”

Her gaze followed his retreating hand. “It was. Before my father gambled it all away.”

Gambled? Noah shifted his back. Pain stretched across his skin like a tight, fiery rope. He remembered spotting Mr. Denton at the card tables now and then, but no more than most men in the city.

“Playing cards and some poor investments,” she added.

“He lost everything?” Instead of anger, sympathy rose in Noah’s chest.

She nodded and stared at the empty bundle in her lap. “Everything but my inheritance which was locked in a trust until I married.”

“The house?”

“Mortgaged.”

“The furniture? Silverware? Family heirlooms?”

“All sold.”

“And the engagement party?”

“A pretense. A sham. Paid for by weeks of not eating.”

Noah eased up on his forearms and stared at the bloodstained wood beneath him. “That’s why your hands are blistered. Because you worked.”

“When we dismissed our servants, we had no choice.” She shifted hopeful eyes to his. “I’m sorry, Noah.”

Noah’s mind reeled. “So that’s why you were eager to announce our engagement.”

Marianne swallowed. “It’s not what you think. You see, my mother is very ill. We can’t afford her medicine without my dowry.”

Realization dawned on him. They had used him. Like a pawn in some sordid scheme. Once Marianne married him, releasing her inheritance, she intended to use the money on her mother’s medications. Not to support the Brenin merchant business. And who would fault her? Certainly not even Noah’s father would choose business over someone’s life.

Anger tightened the muscles in Noah’s back. They cried out in pain. He had been used, the thought repeated. But how could he fault her when his family had done the same thing? They intended to use the Denton fortune to further their own aspirations. But at least they made no pretense about their motives.

“So you conspired to trap me, eh?” A sudden pain shot from his back into his head, and he gritted his teeth.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I did no such thing. Our fathers wanted us married. My mother and I merely agreed to it.”

“Under false pretenses,” he growled. “At least I was honest in my reasons for marrying you.” Then a second thought struck him—she never truly wished to marry him. Even though her behavior on board the
Fortune
spoke otherwise. Even though the ardor he’d seen in her eyes recently and the way she had kissed him screamed otherwise. She needed him only for his signature on a marriage license and his “I do” at a ceremony. A heavy weight sank to the bottom of his stomach. Noah had been used all his life.

And he was tired of it.

“So now you know.” She gathered her things and rose, her chin lifting in that petulant tilt he remembered as a child. “And you have my word that if we ever get off this ship, my first order of business will be to break off our engagement.”

Noah cringed. Sorrow weighed upon him, forcing his forehead to the table. Wasn’t that what he had wanted? Wasn’t that what he had tried to prod her into doing on board his ship? Then why didn’t her agreement seem like a victory? “Most kind of you.” He kept his tone dull, too angry and too proud to let his feelings show.

She turned her back to him and he saw that the hand by her side trembled. When she swung back around, tears pooled in her eyes. “Why did you kiss me the other night?” Despite her obvious effort to appear indifferent, the sorrow in her voice cut into Noah’s heart.

He longed to jump from the table and take her in his arms. He longed to tell her that he’d kissed her because he thought she was kind, generous, and beautiful—because he thought he loved her. But she had lied to him. Used him. Like everyone else. “Why did you kiss me back?” he replied without emotion.

Her nose pinked and she drew a trembling breath. “You have your wish, Mr. Brenin. You are free of me. If we ever get off this ship, marry Priscilla, marry whomever you want, but you will never marry me.”

CHAPTER 19

N
oah eased over the yard, his sweaty hands clinging to the backstay.

The foreman brayed from below, and Noah and his fellow topmen began hauling in the lower topgallant sail. Beside him, Blackthorn grunted with the exertion as he took up the slack for Noah. Five days had passed, and Noah’s back still flamed as though a dozen branding irons lay across his tender skin. Yet the captain had ordered him back to work. Every move of his arms, every shift of his weight, sent searing agony across his torso.

A heavy gust of wind struck him, and he tightened his grip. Though the breeze cooled the sweat on his hands and neck and eased the fire on his back, in his weakened condition, it threatened to shove him to the deck below.

Blackthorn’s worried eyes assessed Noah as the crew folded the heavy sailcloth and began tying it. Noah attempted a grin to reassure the man that he was well.

Well—as long as he didn’t look down to the deck ninety feet below him. Well—as long as nothing so much as a feather brushed across his back.

He’d not seen Marianne since she’d stomped out on him in sick bay. Why she was angry, he had no idea. She had deceived him, snuck aboard his ship, caused them to be impressed into the navy, and created the circumstances that resulted in his flogging. Yet she dared to raise that smug nose of hers and be cross with him. Him? He would never figure women out. Especially not this particular one. Her moods were as fickle as the captain’s.

Just minutes before her anger, nothing but admiration—dare he hope—affection shone in her gaze. But it had all disappeared just as quickly as she had, leaving him alone in the darkness. Though he’d been angry at first at her deception, the more he’d considered it, the more he understood that it blossomed from a love for her mother. She’d had no choice but to agree to the engagement and keep her true inheritance a secret. Her mother’s life depended on it. And how could he fault her for such undaunted affection? It was admirable, in fact.

Like most things about Marianne.

Besides, he had behaved the unconscionable cad to her not only in their youth, but on board his ship. Surely he could forgive her, given the circumstances. What bothered him the most was that he wished she’d had an entirely different reason for agreeing to marry him in the first place.

The wind gusted against him as he tied the final knot, tying sailcloth tight to the yard. The spicy scent of rain bit his nose.

The ship plunged down a rising swell. Bubbling foam swept over the bow. Noah’s breath halted as he clung to the yard. He hoped he wouldn’t be called upon to strike the upper yards and set the storm sails in these rough seas.

“A storm approaches.” Blackthorn pointed to the dark clouds swirling over the eastern horizon.

A storm approached indeed. For tomorrow they arrived at Antigua. And Noah had made up his mind. One way or another, regardless of the danger, regardless of the threat of death, tomorrow they would escape.

Marianne dipped her cloth into the black grease and rubbed it over the captain’s boots, buffing as hard as she could in an attempt to achieve the impossible shine he demanded. Normally her hands ached, but if she imagined the boot to be Noah’s face, they seemed to soar effortlessly over the leather. Oh, how she wished she could scrub that insolent scowl from his lips as easily.

Lips that had sent a warm quiver through her belly with a simple touch.

How dare he judge her for betraying him when his reasons for marrying her were as self-serving as hers?

She had thought … No. If she dared to admit it, she had hoped that after all they’d been through, her inheritance wouldn’t matter to him.

“You are a fool, Marianne, the biggest fool of all.” She blew a section of hair from her forehead. “A fool for ever thinking that a handsome, honorable man like Noah Brenin would ever love you.” The look she’d mistaken for affection in his gaze had been merely gratitude for her ministrations. For how quickly it had transformed into one of fury when he’d discovered her deception.

Yet wasn’t that what she had wanted? Wasn’t that why she had told him? To invoke his anger at her duplicity so he would stop looking at her like he had been the past few days. Like he cared for her. Like he wanted her.

Like no one had ever looked at her before.

A look she would never see again.

Emptiness invaded her heart at the realization.

The captain marched in, grunted his salutation, and proceeded to the stern windows. Picking up a watering jug, he began tending his plants. From the look of exasperation on his face, Marianne knew better than to engage him in conversation, so she continued her work.

An ear-piercing howl filled the cabin. “What happened to my aloe?”

Marianne’s heart clamped. She’d forgotten about the missing leaf, and suddenly wondered why he hadn’t noticed until now. He swung
around, face fuming, eyes latched upon her.

Midshipman Jones appeared in the doorway.

The captain scowled in his direction. “Burn and blast your bones, what is it now, lad?”

“Lieutenant Garrick’s compliments, Captain, but we’ve spotted a sail.”