Captive Hearts Read online

  “’Twill take about the same amount of time for the bruising to subside from his injuries as it took him to release me from the cell. There’s a sort of justice in that.” She bit her lip. “You are not angry at me for what I

  have done?”

  Matthew tossed the paper into her lap. “Not because of this.”

  But he was angry—no, furious. The cool control she witnessed was more frightening than all her father’s violent rages. She felt as though a great storm built before her and there was no shelter available to protect her from it. She looked away. “There is more. I did drawings of the man I remember from that night and hired a man to do prints of him. I have had them posted in every pub and alehouse around the city and offered a reward for information about him that will lead to his arrest. Once he is captured, he will lead them to the rest.” When he remained silent, the knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach grew to painful proportions and she looked up.

  “Anything else?” he asked, his expression benign as he took the rag from her and turned her face to examine the damage Edward had done.

  “No,” the word came out almost a whisper.

  “I’ll ask Webster to prepare some tea and see if we have some liniment to put on your check. You’ll have a bruise by morning.”

  Her mouth dry as dust, she swallowed painfully.

  “What about Talbot and Clarisse? I do not want to cause them any trouble.”

  His pale blue eyes focused on her so intently her stomach did a slow roll.

  Matthew got to his feet and crossed the room to his desk. “We’ll be staying the night aboard ship. I’ll have Henry deliver a message to Talbot and Clarisse.” He withdrew paper, quill, and ink.

  “Please tell them how sorry I am.”

  “That, my dear, will be something you’ll have to convey when face to face with them. You owe them that much.”

  She flinched from the biting tone of the comment.

  She had never been more aware of his size and strength in comparison to her own as he came to stand over her.

  He braced a hand upon the bulkhead that framed the window seat and studied her for a long silent moment.

  “I understand why you’ve printed the story and have

  had the likeness printed and posted. I can even admire your courage and determination in seeking justice for your family. But—you’ve lied to me repeatedly since we exchanged the vows that made us man and wife. You’ve lied to me by omission and through trickery and deceit.

  Because of that you’ve make it difficult for me to know what is truth and what isn’t. You’ve made it impossible for me to trust you.”

  He drew a deep breath. She could see the effort it took for him to rein in his temper.

  “If it’s your hope to provoke the killers—you may get your wish. If someone is hurt, they won’t be the only ones responsible.”

  He straightened. Katherine had never thought to see him direct such a flat, cold look at her. “I’ll return shortly.

  While I’m gone make yourself presentable.” She had not the spirit left to take exception to his dictatorial tone. When the door clicked shut behind him, she released the breath she was holding. Her entire face aching, her limbs shaking uncontrollably, she slid back upon the window seat and folded her arms around her up drawn knees.

  She had expected his anger, but she had not expected his disgust. She had been prepared to face the disapproval and contempt of strangers, but not Matthew’s. She had only herself to blame.

  ****

  Matthew swore aloud as he pulled against the ores. His temper banked a fire beneath his ribs that made him want to beat his fists into something more than Edward Leighton’s face.

  “Do ye want me ’elp, Cap’in?” Henry asked as he held the lantern aloft.

  “No.”

  “Yer missus aint ’urt, is she?”

  “No—Yes. She’ll have a bruised cheek by tomorrow.”

  “That bastard ’it ’er, but she didn’t cry. Most women would ’ave been a wailin’ like a pack of ’ounds at a ’unt.

  But she just got up and dusted ’erself off.” Matthew swore again with less heat, his temper cooling. He focused on the dimly lit dock in the distance.

  “Makes ye wonder if ’e ain’t done it before.”

  Someone had. She had talked about her mother and brother, but had little to say about her father.

  “Is she in trouble, Cap’in?”

  Matthew gave a gusty sigh and stopped rowing. The boat bobbed gently upon the water, drifting toward the dock. “Yes, Henry. There are men who may try and harm her, the men responsible for her family’s death. There will be people who may sit in judgment of her, though she had no control over what happened.”

  “The men stood with ye when charges were brought agin ye, Cap’in.. They’ll stand with ’er as well because she be yer missus, if you ask it of ’em.” Matthew shook his head. It could be dangerous for his men.

  “Webster, me, and Georgie will stand with ’er Cap’in.”

  Katherine had worked her magic upon the men in only an afternoon. A niggling jealousy took root. She had never tried to work it on him. He had slept with her for nearly a fortnight, held her against him in sleep and in waking, and still she denied the burgeoning intimacy between them. The trust he had thought he had earned was just within his mind.

  The thought was still tormenting him when they reached the dock, and he sent Henry to find a handsome cab to have a few moments alone. The seaman returned with the conveyance, and Matthew swung himself aboard the coach.

  It had grown completely dark by the time they pulled to a stop before Willingham’s front steps. Matthew exited the coach, but when Henry moved to climbed down from atop the conveyance, he waved him back. “Stay where you are, I’ll not be long.” As he reached the steps, a woman’s laughter, high and pure, carried to him on the still air, like the tinkling of bells. Matthew paused to look overtop the shrubbery toward the west entrance. Beneath the soft glow of light escaping from the window above them, he glimpsed a man with a slender blonde woman wearing a black cloak. As he watched, the fellow cupped her small, pointed chin in his large hand and pushed her back against the brick wall and kissed her. The plum of moisture their breathing

  released obscured both they faces, but Matthew recognized the woman as one of the maids.

  With a shrug, he continued up the steps to knock on the door. Elton let him in and offered to take his cloak.

  “There’s no need, I’ll only be a moment upstairs. Are my aunt and uncle home?”

  “No, sir. They have gone to Lord and Lady Abingdon’s house to play cards.” Perhaps the news had not reached them yet. “When they return, please tell them Katherine and I have decided to spend the night aboard the Caroline. And please see that my uncle receives this.” He reached inside the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a copy of the paper that had been hawked that afternoon, as well as a note. Talbot would understand their absence.

  It took only moments for him to pack a satchel with their belongings. The thick hall runner muffled his steps as he walked down the passageway toward the stairs. A strange rhythmic squeaking caught his attention.

  Curious, he stopped to listen and decipher from which direction it came. As he continued down the hall, he discovered a chamber door standing ajar. Resting a hand against the portal, he pushed it open further. Light from the hall sconce behind him shone inside the room, casting dark shadows in the corners. From the doorway, the coverlet on the bed was wrinkled but nothing else appeared disturbed. Shaking his head, he continued on downstairs.

  Elton waited in the entrance foyer.

  “We’ll return late tomorrow evening, Elton.”

  “I shall be sure to tell his lordship, sir.” One of the maids was just outside the west entrance when I came in. You may want to check the door is secure.

  “Of course, sir.

  Matthew exited the house and glanced toward the west entrance as he walked down the front steps. The man
and woman were gone. It was too cold to linger outside for long. He drew his cloak close and called to Henry to join him inside the coach.

  The man settled back against the leather seat as though he feared the pressure of his body might mar it.

  “’Tis too cold to be atop the coach if you don’t

  have to be, Henry. Besides, I have something to discuss with you.” “Aye, Cap’in.”

  “The trouble we discussed earlier—”

  “Aye, Cap’in.

  “I may have to take you up on your offer.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Katherine rose from her perch upon the window seat and smoothed the wrinkles at the front of her dark gray gown. She joined Georgie at the table and started helping him clear the tea things away.

  “You don’t have ta help me, Miss Katherine. I can do it.” “I know, Georgie. I do not mind.” His attention focused on her cheek and he grimaced in sympathy. “Is there anythin’ I can get for you, Ma’am?” She shook her head and touched the swollen side of her face gingerly. The initial burn had passed and had settled down to a persistent dull ache. “No, I do not believe so.”

  With a nod, he went back to gathering the heavy china tea service upon the tray.

  “My pa used to pound on me some. He’d get drunk and come home. Used to pound on my ma some too, ’til she died.”

  She focused on his young features and found his freckled face both funny and endearing. His attempt to ease her embarrassment and pain reflected a chivalry he had obviously learned at Matthew’s hand.

  “The Cap’in took me off the docks in Charleston and made me his cabin boy.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  A knot rose in her throat. She had married a good man, a strong man; she didn’t need anyone to point it out to her. His penchant to protect those weaker than himself would one day get him killed.

  “You were very fortunate to have found him.” Aye, I was.” He nodded.

  They both were. Had he been any other man she would probably be sporting a black eye or worse for her recent behavior. He had shown greater restraint than her

  father ever had.

  She realized that she’d been waiting for him to behave like her father, and he was just not going to. He would never raise his hand to those smaller or weaker than himself. She supposed she presented a very frustrating problem to him always doing things that tested his temper and leaving him no recourse.

  In less than a fortnight, he had managed to show her how different men could be from her perception of them.

  She had painted them all with the same callous, unfeeling brush her father and uncle had placed in her hand. Now, she knew there were those who weren’t out to manipulate and dominate those weaker than themselves.

  The door behind her opened without a warning knock, and she turned to look over her shoulder. Beads of moisture glistened in Matthew’s dark hair and wet the shoulders of his cloak. He tossed the leather valise he carried onto the bunk and removed his cloak then hung it on a peg at the door.

  She collected a towel from the washstand and went to offer it to him. Matthew studied her features, his gaze sharp. “A white flag, Katherine? I’d have thought you’d sooner fight to the death than surrender.”

  “A flag of truce, so that we may negotiate,” she suggested.

  “I have negotiated with you before and come out the loser.”

  “Will ye be needin’ anythin’ else, Cap’in?” Georgie asked from the door.

  “No, Georgie.” He crossed the cabin in two long strides to open the door for him.

  The silence that stretched between them with Georgie’s departure grew taut as sail canvas. He removed his long coat and hung it beside his cloak. He unwrapped the stock from about his neck and hung it there as well.

  Katherine turned away and went to the window seat to look out upon the water. The reflective light of the cabin limited her vision to a small patch directly beneath the window. The warm yellow lights of the lanterns behind her turned the dingy gray water a milky green.

  He tossed a cream-colored piece of paper on her lap as he sat down beside her. “I’ve read it. Is there anything

  that you neglected to include in the story?” She had hoped to avoid telling him the more personal parts of the story, but if she held anything back now he would view it as another betrayal. As she strove to avoid looking at him, all she felt was a bone deep pain and tiredness.

  The wooden bulkhead behind her felt cool through the thinness of her gown as she rested back against it. It grounded her in the present so that the past could not wound her so bitterly.

  “I do not remember everything about that night. Had the guns been in the coach, we might have had a fighting chance.”

  “The guns?”

  “My brother’s guns. There was a compartment beneath the seat where they were kept, but when we opened it to arm ourselves they were gone. Even the powder and shot were missing. Edward said one of the servants must have discovered them while cleaning the coach and taken them to sell.”

  “That sounds a reasonable assumption.” He shifted and braced a hand on the back of the desk chair.

  “My mother made me get inside the compartment and hide. I heard gunshots and her screaming. I don’t remember what happened next. It is as though time just ceased to be.

  “The only face I remember is the one I drew. I remember being cold, and everything looked as though I viewed it through the bottom of a glass. My legs were slick with blood, and my gown clung to them as though it were alive.”

  His movement as he released the chair back brought her gaze to his face to find his expression wooden. She wondered what he hid behind that control. Revulsion?

  Pity? “It was from the shot in my side, not what you are thinking. He told me that came later.”

  “You said nothing of being shot.” His tone was subdued, careful.

  “Here.” She touched her waist. “The ball tore through my stays and into my side. It took the surgeon some time to pick out the whalebone fragments. In the end he told me it was probably the undergarment that saved my life.”

  She fell silent as she struggled to retain her composure.

  “All I remember after being shot is a weight pressing down on top of me and a rope tight about my neck squeezing my throat so that my head pounded. I couldn’t breathe. There was a light in the distance. I thought at the time, if only I could reach it, I would be safe.”

  “Who is he?” he asked.

  She stared at him confused.

  “You said ‘he’ told you.”

  “Edward.” She drew her legs up and looped her arms about her knees, hugging them hard.

  Silence settled between them weighted with emotion.

  She turned to look out upon the water, away, unable to bear whatever she would see in his expression.

  “When was it Edward began searching for a husband for you?”

  “Barely a month later. He said we would have to be quick about it before rumor made it impossible for him to find me a match. He insisted my immigrating to another country would be for the best.” She finally looked at him, but his attention was directed at the bare wooden floor beneath his feet. “I wanted to tell you everything before the wedding, but— you were never released from prison and my notes were never delivered.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed the outcome of things, Katherine.” He rose to his feet and looked for a long moment out into the darkness. “I’ll have Webster prepare a meal,” he said as he crossed to don his long coat and cloak. “I’ll be up on the quarter deck should you need me.” She rested her forehead against her up-drawn knees as tears ran unheeded down her cheeks. He hadn’t looked at her a single time. Her chest ached with the pain of his rejection. She had never dreamed anything could hurt so much.

  ****

  Matthew pounded his fist against the railing of the quarterdeck. Knowing she had been abused when injured made him sick, but it also thrust to life a rage he
had tried to ignore for days. He could ignore it no longer. It twisted like a thing alive in the pit of his stomach. He wanted the men responsible for this, dead. They were out there somewhere free to do as they pleased while she

  stayed huddled beneath decks, afraid and outcast. He wanted to rail at the injustice of it.

  When had he begun to care so much about this stranger he had married? From the moment she had walked into that dirty, dim cell and offered him her hand and his freedom. She had invaded his thoughts, his dreams. Even when he was concentrating on other things, she was like a tune that threaded its way though his mind.

  Now that she had posted the bills and had the story hawked upon the streets, he couldn’t leave her behind when he left England–but he had known that all along.

  She was his responsibility. His wife.

  She was determined that their marriage would be a temporary one though there was no way for them to end it. By making the story public, she had backed them both into a corner, in more ways than one. He was furious with her for that, but in a way, he was also relieved. Relieved because the choice had been taken out of his hands.

  Acknowledging that made him uncomfortable. He had faced situations on board ship and made decisions under circumstances that any hesitation might have meant life or death. Never had he vacillated over anything as he had about Katherine. He had tried to avoid facing why. Now he had no choice, but to confront it.

  He was afraid of loving her. Afraid of loving her and losing her, as he had Caroline.

  He had wanted Caroline, gotten her with child, and caused her death. He wanted Katherine, possibly more than he had ever wanted any other woman. Wanted her so much, he dreamed of making love to her. He knew if he started touching her, there would be no way he could keep himself from taking her. He just wasn’t that self-sacrificing.

  And what if they made love and she conceived? Just the idea twisted his stomach into painful knots. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned in frustration.

  The black cord that bound it at the nape of his neck came loose, and he stuck it in his pocket.