Kate Welsh - His Californian Countess

“So fierce, Pixie.” He reached up and traced her jawline.

She shivered at his touch.

“And fierce is what I need just now. Protect my princess.”

“You most likely won’t remember all this when you wake up again, but I’ll ask.”

Amber knocked on the door and asked the cabin boy to fetch Captain Baker and the reverend. Then she went back to the bed with her notebook. “Are you still with me?”

“Aye. Write this. To the firm of Bootey and Fowler, New York, New York. This is a codicil to my last will and testament. I hereby appoint my wife …” He waved his hand weakly toward her notebook and swallowed. After a breath and a long pause he said, “Put your whole name there, Pixie, and … uh … add the date … my wife as guardian … to my Meara … Reynolds, my daughter.”

He stopped talking, closed his eyes, then, just when she thought that was all he wanted to say, he blinked his eyes open and added, “She is to administer the trust set up at the Brooklyn Trust Company. The rest of my financial estate shall pass into her ownership. Under no circumstances should any other individual lay claim to any part of my estate or to the guardianship of the child, Meara Reynolds.

“That ought to do it,” he said. “Where the hell is Baker? And that minister.”

A knock sounded on the door and Amber hurried to it. “Captain E. C. Baker, ma’am. What can be done to assist you?”

“The earl wishes to—to—” The words stuck in her throat. “He wishes to marry me for the sake of his daughter. He fears he will perish and leave her orphaned.”

Reverend Willis had apparently accompanied Captain Baker and he shouted through the door, “You wish me to perform a marriage ceremony?”

This bellowing through the door was just stupid. It had been a week and a day and she had not sickened. She flung the door open and was surprised to see a well turned-out officer standing next to a tall, thin man in unrelieved black. Captain Baker had tightly curling salt-and-pepper hair and a full closely trimmed beard to match. After her meeting with Dr. Bennet and his smelly liquor breath, she’d not known what to expect of another ship’s officer. “No, he does,” she said. “I think this an absurd idea, but there is his motherless child to consider, though I have assured him he will live through this sickness.”

“I am sorry Dr. Bennet has caused you so much trouble. He should have quarantined you in your cabin and cared for the man himself. Unfortunately, the best doctors do not accept positions on sailing ships.”

“We are well past that point now, sir.”

“The will,” Jamie rasped from the bed.

“What was that?” Captain Baker demanded, frowning.

Of course, he had not heard. It had been said much too softly to have been heard even the seven or eight feet to the door. “The earl has dictated a change to his will. He wants you to witness it.”

“My dear young woman, this is unconscionable. You are clearly taking advantage. I do not think this is wise, milord,” E. C. Baker called into the room.

“My … idea,” Jamie rasped back louder than before, then took a gasping breath.

“I’ve disputed this,” Amber told the captain. “He is resolute. And this arguing is sapping his strength.”

The captain pursed his lips and stroked his beard as he thought over the problem. “Very well. Has he signed this codicil to his will?”

“I thought it would be better if you sign before he touches the page. I have a health book that says objects the sick person touches can carry infection.”

Baker raised an eyebrow and stared as if considering her. Then he nodded. “Fine. We will do the ceremony first,” Baker said to Reverend Willis.

Willis nodded back. “I’ll need the names.”

“The man taken ill is Lord Jamie Reynolds, Earl of Adair, and this is Miss Helena Conwell.”

“Excuse me,” Amber interrupted. “My name is Amber Dodd. I am merely traveling in Helena’s stead. We traded places in our accommodations.”

“So you truly didn’t know the earl?” Captain Baker asked.

“I didn’t. It was a bit of a mistaken identity,” she said. “Helena failed to inform the earl of the change in her travel plans.” She glanced at the bed. “Jamie, are you still with us?”

“What’s holding … this back?”

She looked toward the men in the doorway. “Captain? Reverend?”

Reverend Willis cleared his throat and motioned Amber back to the bed. “I don’t know how to address a man of English peerage so we’ll just go with both his names. Make sure this is all legal and binding. Jamie Reynolds, Earl of Adair,” he said in a loud voice, “do you take this woman, Amber Dodd, for your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do, Pixie,” Jamie rasped and smiled sadly.

The minister went on, unaware of the poignant moment. “And do you, Amber Dodd, take Jamie Reynolds, Earl of Adair, for your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” she said.

Amber was grateful he had dispensed with all the promises they’d likely never be called on to test. And he certainly needn’t mention that death would part them. It was standing in the room, a dark witness, ready to claim him.

Captain Baker then read aloud the codicil and signed it at Jamie’s nod. Then Jamie scrawled his signature upon it. She returned to the door. “I will pray for his life, ma’am,” the captain said.

“And I will continue to do the same,” Reverend Willis added. “I will also write up the marriage papers and give them into the captain’s keeping.”

She nodded her thanks, then closed the door.

“It is done then?” Jamie asked.

“It is, but the entire affair was unnecessary. You’re going to get well. I’ve promised, haven’t I? I never break a promise.”

His energy spent, he nodded slightly, smiled sadly, then took a ring off his little finger and slid it on hers. It fit. She wondered if that was prophetic. And if it was a prophecy, what did it mean? Was she destined to wear it as his widow or, queer thought that it was, did it mean they were destined for each other? Whichever it was, while she stared at her left hand, he fell back to sleep.

Amber stored the codicil in her trunk and resumed bathing him, fighting the fever ravaging his body. She wanted him to live, but the longer he hung on, hovering between life and death, the more she cared about him. She prayed that if he were to die God would take him before she cared even more for him. But then she quickly revised her thought because the truth was … she already cared for him too much.

And now she was married to him.

This adventure had become her worst nightmare come true.

Jamie opened his eyes and found her standing over him. He’d never have thought such selflessness would be part of her character. And the plainness of her dress and even plainer hairstyle surprised him, too. He hadn’t thought Helena, an upper-class princess, would own a garment so worn and simple. “Oh, you’re back again,” she said in that sweet voice. It lured him from sleep time and again even though pain awaited.

“And you’re still here,” he quipped, scarcely recognizing the hoarse sound of his own voice.

“I promised you I’d be here. Will you try to take some broth and tea? I think my grandmother’s recipe is keeping your fever down a bit.”

Just then sunlight flooded through the skylight and illuminated her lovely face. It wasn’t Helena. It was Pixie. He struggled to gather a name from his fevered brain. She was Amber. He’d thought she must be part of a dream, but she was real. So he had met her on deck.

Jamie nodded to her question about the broth and tea. He didn’t feel up to eating or drinking, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. She was taking care of him. The least he could do was cooperate and help himself.