Bonds of Matrimony (10 page)

           
“Marcus
changed his name when he came over,” she quickly lied.
 
“When he and my father fell out, Marcus
wanted nothing to do with the Cochrane name.”

           
He
nodded and took a drink from his water glass.
 
“I see,” he replied.
 
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your brother?”

Their father had forced their brother
out of the house and disowned him nearly three years before.
 
Marcus had been twenty-two at the time
and had fallen madly in love with Elisa Wolcott, the daughter of their family
gardener.
 
When they ran off and
married against his parents’ wishes, they returned to find Marcus’s possessions
packed and waiting in the foyer.
 
With help from Elisa’s father, the newlyweds had bought passage to America,
and the sister’s hadn’t heard from them since.

           
“Three
years,” Chase answered.
 
“How well
do you know Marcus?”

           
Webb
didn’t meet her eyes when he answered.
 
“Pretty well.
 
We share some
grazing land.
 
His ranch is a
fifteen minute ride from mine, by horse.”

           
“Have
you met Elisa?” Reese asked.

           
“Sure,”
he answered.

           
It
was suddenly awkward.
 
This man
knew more about their brother than they did.
 
 
“Have you heard
that she’s expectin’?” he asked.
 

           
When
the girls had decided to leave London, their grandmother had informed them that
she and Elisa had secretly been corresponding since she and Marcus left England
three years before.
 
The most
recent letter from Elisa had informed their grandmother of her pregnancy.

“You must be thrilled about
bein’ uncles.”

           
Reese
nodded enthusiastically.
 

Chase studied him
wearily.
 
His tone sounded forced.

           
They
finished the rest of the meal in uncomfortable silence, and Webb invited Chase
to share a cigar with him on the main deck.
 
She snuck a peek at her grandmother, and she shrugged.
 
Within twenty-four hours, they were all
going to be reunited with Marcus.
 
They
were too excited to worry about being cautious for this last leg of their
passage.

           
She
followed Webb up the staircase and strolled slowly along the railing, silently
admiring the brilliant sunset on the horizon.

           
“All
this time we’ve talked and played cards, you’ve never told me how old you are,
Cochrane,” he said, offering her a cigar.

           
“It
never came up, Webb.
 
I’m
nineteen.”

           
“Practically
a grown man.
 
And your brother,
Reese?”

           
“He’s
eighteen,” she answered, wondering where his questions were leading.

           
“Did
your mother play a big role in raising the two of you?”

           
“Not
particularly, why?”

           
“I
mean no offense, but your younger brother especially is a bit of a…”

           
“Dandy?”
She finished for him with a grin.
 
“Reese isn’t the most masculine young man, I know.”

           
Webb
grinned with his cigar between his teeth.
 
“No, he’s not.
 
And I just
figured that perhaps you’d been raised by your mother mostly.
 
Women have a knack for fouling up the
child rearing process, especially where their sons are concerned.
 
Too many boys don’t learn to be men
because their mothers want to keep them like babies forever.”

           
“You
think so?” she asked.
 
He’d done it
again.
 
She didn’t think he could
possibly be aware of how chauvinistic he sounded.
 
Truly, this man was an ass.

           
“Just
my opinion.”

           
“Do
you suppose you’d have the same opinion if your mother had lived to raise you?”
she asked, fighting to keep the anger out of her voice.

           
“Probably
not.”

           
This
admission made his comment a bit more forgivable.
 

           
“Tell
me, Cochrane, do you think you’d have turned out to be more masculine if you’d
actually been born a man?” he asked casually.

           
“What?”

           
With
one swift movement, Webb wrapped both hands around her wrists and shoved her
against the railing.
 
The cold rail
pressed against her lower back, the only support keeping her from plunging into
the Atlantic.

           
“What
are you playing at?” Webb whispered, his face only inches from hers.
 
His eyes were dark with fury again, and
the muscle in his jaw was twitching on the left side of his face.

           
“Wh—what
are you talking about?” she stammered.

           
“I’m
talking about Marcus Fairfax being the only son in the family.
 
I’m talking about his stories of
leaving his two younger sisters behind with his overbearing parents,” he spat.

           
People
were staring in their direction, wondering if they should do something to keep the
angry Texan from throwing the young man overboard.
 
But nobody moved closer to them.
 
And no one could hear his accusations.

           
“How
do you know this?” Chase asked.

           
“Fairfax
used to work for me.
 
He’s one of
my greatest competitors now.
 
But
before, we were friends.
 
And he
used to talk about his sisters all the time.”

           
“Let
go of me,” she ordered through clenched teeth.

           
“What
in the hell do you think you’re doing?
 
What are you and your brother up to?”

           
“Let
go of me now,” she growled.

           
“I’ll
let go of you.
 
Then we’re going to
go to my cabin and have a little chat.”

           
Chase
kept her eyes on his as he released her wrists and led the way.
 
She looked behind them to see if her
grandmother or Reese had come up on the main deck.
 
But they were nowhere in sight.
 

           
He
practically dragged her into his room and slammed his door behind him.
 

           
“My
brother and I aren’t up to anything,” Chase denied angrily.
 
“Marcus was disowned three years ago,
which you probably already know.
 
You also mentioned that Marcus told you our parents are
overbearing.
 
Grandmother felt it
would be best for us to come live with Marcus.
 
But she wasn’t convinced the passage would be safe for two
young women.
 
So we decided to
dress as young men.”
 
For the briefest
moment, she had considered explaining the situation with Stockton and
Booth.
 
But she wasn’t interested
in giving him that much information.
 
She was as eager to forget that Stockton was still alive and breathing
in London as she was to get out from under Webb’s hostile glare right then.

           
He
towered over her, clearly trying to intimidate her.
 
“What does this have to do with me?”

           
She
scoffed at him, never daring to take her eyes off of his.
 
“It has
nothing
to do with you!
 
You are the singular most arrogant man I’ve ever met in my life.”

           
“Arrogant?
 
What am I supposed to think?
 
You latch yourself on to me, and I’m
expected to believe it is a coincidence that your brother is my main
competition?”

           
“Latch
on to you?
 
I
am
hardly
latched.
 
I enjoy playing cards and
having an occasional drink.
 
You
apparently enjoy the same things.
 
I wasn’t latching, I assure you.”

           
“Playing
cards and the occasional drink?
 
You’re a woman, for Christ’s sake!”
 

           
Throughout
this civil discussion, their voices grew louder and louder.
 
This last exclamation was the loudest
of all.
 
The silence that followed
was deafening.
 
Her pulse thundered
in her ears.
 
She was infuriated by
his paranoia and arrogance.
 
And at
the same time, she had never found him more attractive.
 
His brown eyes were nearly black.
 
And he was standing too near for her to
ignore his masculine scent.

           
“For
the safety of my sister and me, I would appreciate it if you would keep your
voice down.”

           
“If
the men on this ship knew that you’d been playing them all this time, you would
be in more danger than you think,” he threatened.

           
“I
haven’t been playing anyone.”

           
“You
sure seemed to enjoy yourself.
 
It
looks like it was a game to me.”

           
“It
was never a game.
 
But I won’t deny
that I have enjoyed myself.
 
No
frilly dresses with petticoats that get in the way.
 
No restrictions on what I choose to do with my day.
 
No undermining my decisions.
 
Being a woman, in some ways, is like
being in a perpetual prison.
 
We’re
not free to do as we see fit.”

           
He
narrowed his eyes and yanked the hat off her head.
 
“You sound ridiculous ranting about the woes of women while
you’re dressed in a hat and a pair of trousers.
 
Take your hair down.
 
You look ridiculous to me like that.”

           
“You
haven’t thought so for the past five days,” Chase reminded him, refusing to
look away from his mocking eyes.
 
She
did untie the band around her short hair and shook it free.
 
The curls bounced around her face and
shoulders, and she wished—for the first time in her life—that she
had not cut her long and feminine hair.

           
He
sneered at her then and said with a straight face, “I think you looked better
as a boy.”

           
At
first, she was insulted.
 
But then,
she took a step closer to him, bringing her face within inches of his face as
he hovered over her.
 
“I think,” she
sneered back, “that you’re afraid of me now that you know I’m a woman.”

           
He
threw his head back and laughed.
 
“Very few things scare me, lady.
 
And I’ve never met a woman who made me afraid.”

           
She
stuck out her hand, fingertips grazing his flat stomach.
 
“Chase Fairfax,” she greeted.
 

           
He
shook her hand with a slightly confused look on his face.

           
“One
morning, Webb, when you wake up and realize your life has been turned upside
down, I want you to remember this very moment.”

           
He
grinned cockily, his face still only a few inches from hers.
 
“Why’s that?” he asked.

           
Without
thinking, she stretched up onto her tiptoes.
 
At the same time, Chase grabbed the back of his neck with
both hands and brought his lips down to meet her own.
 
He pulled back as though her lips had scalded his.
 
His eyes widened in bewilderment as he
breathed heavily.