Rebecca (7 page)

Shaken by the urgency in the man's voice, the boy said, “Aye, m'lord.” He spun and raced up the steps to the upper deck.

Nicholas went back into the small room. There was only one window, but he opened it wider to freshen the room. The stagnant smell of sickness would hurt Rebecca in her recovery. After a second hesitation, he went to the bed. He loosened the collar of her gown. Pushing aside the blankets, he removed her high shoes and heavy stockings. With a sharp tug, he ripped her cumbersome petticoats from under her dress. He did not want to disturb her by trying to untie them. In her plain gown, she would be as comfortable as in her nightgown.

She did not acknowledge his actions, except to moan softly as he put the blankets over her again. He knew she was lost in agony. There was no medical man on the ship, so she would have to fight whatever was making her ill with her own resources.

A knock on the door cut through his reverie. He opened it. “Come in, Drew. I thought you would want to know about this.”

The shorter man took one look at her and said, “What is it?”

“A fever. Whether it is contagious or not, I don't know. I noticed she was exceptionally quiet today, and you yourself said she looked pale. If I had known she was ill, I wouldn't have brought her aboard.”

Jennings frowned. “I wish you hadn't. If she was not your wife, my friend, I would put her in the hold until she died, so the rest of us would not be contaminated.”

His voice tight with anger, Nicholas retorted, “Drew, I don't want to hear of that even in joking. Rebecca cannot be moved. The man who tries such will have to get by me first.” The threat of violence marred his worried voice. “I'll stay here to tend her. I just wanted to let you know of your possible danger, for you are the only one she has had contact with other than me.”

“We will leave your meals in the passageway. If you need anything, give us a note on the dirtied dishes. If she dies, we can't take her corpse all the way to—” He paused as he saw the murderous look on the other's face.

“You needn't worry about that, Captain. She will survive. I shall inform you when she's better. I bid you good day.”

Briefly, rage raced through Jennings. The
Prize
was his ship, and he was not used to being dismissed by a lord of the realm as if he was the lowest cabin boy. Then he sighed. He could not blame Nicholas for his uneven temper when the man's wife could be on her deathbed. Lord Foxbridge seemingly was besotted with his newly rediscovered bride. “If you need anything, let us know,” he said in a much calmer tone.

The black-haired man sighed. “I will.”

Even before the door had closed, he had returned to the bed to wet another cloth and lay it on her forehead to try to cool her heated skin. As he had not done for years, he prayed. She must survive. He had waited almost five years for Rebecca. He did not want to lose her again so quickly.

“Aunt Dena?” came the whisper from the bed.

A soft masculine chuckle filled the small room. “No, my dear. Your Aunt Dena isn't here. How are you feeling?”

Rebecca's eyes blinked open to see the darkness lit by a single taper. She had no idea where she was. This was not her room, for her room did not sway with a gentle motion as if she was a babe in its cradle. When a shadowed face came into her view, she raised trembling fingers to touch it. “Keith?” she murmured, sleepily.

“I'm afraid not.” Nicholas knelt on the floor next to the bunk. Slipping his arm beneath her shoulders, he tilted her toward him. “I hope I will do, Rebecca.”

His mouth descended hungrily onto hers. Still floundering in her world of delirium, she was not quite aware of her own actions as her arm slid along his to wrap around his shoulders, and she answered his kiss with her own fervor. In her clouded mind, a burst of light cleared away some of the cobwebs. She was suffused with a yearning to be close to this man who brought such delight to her with a single kiss.

When his lips tasted the skin along her neck, she gave a gasp of undisguised pleasure. Her weak fingers tangled in the untied thickness of his hair. His heated breath against her skin sent waves of ecstasy through her in rhythm with the ones rocking the ship.

She felt herself being lifted, but she was placed again on the bed. Only when the man stretched out next to her did she understand why she had been moved. His eager kiss wiped all other thoughts from her mind. Her lips welcomed his. As his legs entwined with hers, he pulled her close to the sturdy line of his body. He rolled her onto her back so she could feel all of him pressed to her.

Unsteadily, she wavered between consciousness and sleep. The touch of his hands as he stroked her enticingly began to vanish into senselessness. Her body became lighter than a piece of fluff floating on the breeze, and the one above her disappeared. Every bit of herself was washed away into bliss.

Nicholas smiled as he saw her fade into sleep. He had thought she was not fully awake when she had gathered him to her. Still, this was a sample of the passion he had expected from his wife. Although he was sure she had not been cognizant of his identity, her reactions to his kisses were unfaked. Having sampled her lusciousness, he wondered how long he could wait for her to invite him to share her bed. It would not be long. He wanted Rebecca, as he had since that moment he had seen her in the church and had known that this beautiful woman was his.

Getting himself comfortable on the hard bed, he drew her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulders, and her body reformed along his in sleep. Through the thinness of her frock, he could feel the lithe lines of her body. A lightning-hot bolt of desire raced through him as he longed to make love with her. Soon, he promised himself. Now he simply would enjoy her lying in his arms. With her warmth next to him, he dozed also.

Chapter Four

Rebecca woke with memories of anguish and a ravenous hunger which seemed insatiable. Her brow furrowed as she looked around in confusion. It took several seconds for her to remember that she was on a ship bound for England. She wondered what had happened. Although she could recall coming aboard the ship whose name she could not remember, everything else was a bizarre collage of what was fact and the fantasy of a fevered mind.

“Nicholas?” she whispered. She needed someone. It did not matter that he was the man who had wrecked her dreams.

Instantly, he appeared in front of her eyes as if he had materialized from thin air. His hand rested momentarily on her forehead. He smiled as he felt how cool her skin was. Quickly he bent to place a light kiss where his hand had touched. “How are you feeling, Rebecca? You have been quite ill.”

“Ill?” she questioned weakly. “Is that what has been happening? I can't remember anything but bits and pieces of things I don't think were real.”

He slid his arm under her shoulders and raised her to take a drink of cold broth. For days, he had had a cup waiting for her when she finally awoke long enough to be hungry. Greedily, she swallowed the soup. She closed her eyes as he placed her against the pillows again. She was so grateful to him that she did not object when he sat next to her on the bed. Gazing up at him, she saw that his face was shadowed with the scruffy beginnings of a beard. It told her that he had been devoting himself to her care for several days.

“How long, Nicholas?”

“Five days, sweetheart. I don't know what it was that you contracted, but it nearly killed you.” He put out his hand to stroke her tangled hair. “You are getting well, and that is all that matters.”

In a whisper, she said, “Thank you for saving my life. I guess that makes us even, doesn't it?”

“My dear Rebecca, do not think of my crude nursing as an effort to even the balance of debts between us. I did not enjoy seeing you suffer in the depths of your fever. I did not like the idea of putting you in the stuffy darkness of the hold to die like some unwanted animal.” His eyes narrowed in the expression he wore when he was trying to delve deeply into a quandary. “Or is this your latest bid to convince me to release you from our marriage?”

Shocked by his abrupt fury, she stated quietly, “I don't care a whit about our marriage. What kind of marriage is it when a simple thank-you is twisted and thrown back into my face? Nor do I care a bit whether you helped me get well for kindness's sake or simply so you could have me to abuse longer. I'm very fatigued. I would be grateful if you simply would leave me alone so I can sleep.”

Her eyes closed. When Nicholas started to speak, he saw that she intended to pretend he did not exist. For a moment, he stared at her. It was useless to argue when she could use her sickness as an excuse to push him away. Suddenly anger filled him. He had devoted nearly a week to her care. The only time she had seemed grateful was when she had been in the flush of her sickness and had let him hold her close. As soon as she began to get better, she showed how much she hated him.

Rising, he went to the door. It slammed loudly as he went out for his first fresh air in days. Let Rebecca take care of herself. He could enjoy himself playing cards with the crew and captain of the
Prize
. He did not need to spend his time acting as a nursemaid to an ungrateful wench.

Tears rolled from Rebecca's eyes as she heard the crash of the door. She could not believe Nicholas could be so vicious when she was so ill. When she had tried to thank him by telling him that she appreciated his efforts as much as he had hers, he had turned on her in a vile, verbal attack.

For the rest of the long years of her life, she would be tied to this man who wanted only one thing from her. She feared that if she learned to feel anything but antipathy for him, she would be hurt that much more when he tired of her. That he would grow bored with her, she did not doubt. What could a backwoods maiden offer to a man who had lived on two continents and had been raised in a world where the people might speak regularly with the royal family?

It had seemed so exciting to marry this handsome man who told her what had seemed like fairy tales of large houses and titled people. What she had not realized was that Nicholas was not a simple soldier seeking his way back to his unit. He had been telling her of his real life when she had thought he was delirious or trying to entertain her.

There was no place for Rebecca North.… She corrected herself with a sharp pulse of pain. There was no place for Rebecca Wythe in that world. It would be impossible for her to fit in. Perhaps if she had been raised in Philadelphia or Boston or Williamsburg, she would have known how to talk to people who would view her as a most queer Lady Foxbridge. In a soft whisper, she begged the night, “Let me go home. Let me go home, please.” On the last word, her voice shattered into sobs.

For the next two weeks, Rebecca slowly recovered. Occasionally she saw Nicholas when he came into the room to retrieve clean clothes. He spoke only a greeting or asked how she was feeling. She replied in a small voice, afraid of arousing the wrath she could see glittering in his eyes.

Otherwise, during that time, she rested and ate the food delivered by a kind boy named Jake. Sometimes he stayed and talked. She learned he had run away from home when he was only eight to seek a life on the sea. His widowed mother had remarried a man he did not like, so he had decided to take control of his own destiny. Since then he had sailed on the
Prize
, first as a kind of unofficial mascot, now as a full-fledged cabin boy with duties and a few coins in his pocket at the end of each voyage. She enjoyed his tales of places that she would never see in the Indies and even along the coast of mysterious Africa. In his few years, he had seen things most people could not imagine.

Jake came to look forward to his times visiting Lady Foxbridge. Although she asked him to call her Rebecca, he did not dare to, for he was intimidated by her powerful husband. He did not want Lord Foxbridge to think anything other than innocent conversation was taking place in the cabin where the door always remained ajar when he spoke with the convalescing woman. It was the first time in many years that he had had someone near his own age to talk to regularly. She did not laugh when he spoke of his dreams of someday being the master of his own ship which would sail as far away as the Spice Islands and China.

“Enjoy your dreams,” she told him more than once. “Hold onto them and savor them. That way, maybe you can make them come true.”

Although he had wondered about the sadness in her voice, he refrained from asking her the reason. In her eyes he could see that one of her dreams had been stripped away. He could not understand it. He would have guessed that her life must be a dream come true. A title, a wealthy husband, a beautiful home with servants to anticipate her every need. If he had been able to discern the truth, he would not have believed it.

Day after day, things remained as unchanging as the seascape around them. The waves marched endlessly to the horizon in every direction. Rebecca began to expect that her life would continue in this limbo forever. Finally, one day nearly three weeks into the voyage, she decided she could not tolerate being in bed any longer. With care, she swung her feet to the floor. She stood and swayed, nearly falling. Balancing between the bed and the chair, she waited until the dizziness vanished as her sea legs steadied. As if it was her greatest victory, she smiled in triumph as she walked the scarce three steps from the bed to the door and back again.

She was up. She was no longer confined to that bed. If she wanted, she could leave the blasted room and breathe in the fresh air which so tantalized her when it blew through the small window. She could not wait another second. Pulling a clean dress and petticoats from her bag, she stripped off her nightgown and washed herself in the bit of tepid water in the bucket. She drew on the petticoats and tied them behind her. Her smile broadened as she put her dress over them. Even the tedious job of closing all the hooks up the back of the dress would be delightful.