Helen Dickson - Mishap Marriage

‘Your pardon, Miss McKenzie.’ The deep, rich voice of Captain Fitzgerald sounded concerned. ‘I did not mean to startle you. I was merely taking my pipe in the open air before I return to my ship—but be assured—to discourse with a beautiful woman on a moonlit night on a tropical isle is a pleasure beyond compare. Does the smoke bother you?’

Feeling her heartbeat quicken alarmingly, Shona was amazed by the effect his sudden presence was having on her pulse rate, but she was resolved not to let it show. She stared, trying to penetrate the dark shadows that hid his face. ‘Not at all. Enjoy your pipe at your leisure. I rather like the smell of tobacco. It brings back poignant memories of my father. He used to enjoy a pipe on occasion.’

‘A natural enough habit. They grow tobacco in Virginia. The Indians taught us how to smoke it.’

‘So I understand.’

‘If I am intruding, I will leave you.’

‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘please—you don’t have to go.’

He nodded. ‘Very well. I will stay.’

‘How long do you intend being on the island, Captain?’

Stepping out of the shadows, he looked at her through the wreath of smoke that curled from his pipe. ‘One week at the most.’ His hand cradling the bowl of his pipe came out and in a brief span the long stem swept the moonlight to encompass the rolling hills beyond the trees. ‘And then I must leave all this and return to London.’

Tilting her head on one side, she met his eyes. ‘You sound regretful. But you will return, will you not?’

‘At some point. Would you care to talk?’ he invited, propping his shoulder against the wall of the house and holding her gaze with his own.

Shona leaned against the trellising. ‘About what, Captain?’

The answer was slow in coming. ‘Anything.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Whatever would please you. Why don’t you begin by telling me something about this charming island you call home? I know that originally the Spanish claimed it for the Spanish crown and christened it Santamaria.’

‘That was so. They formed a small settlement and the islanders earned a living by hunting the wild cattle and hogs that overran the island and selling the smoked meat to passing ships. But eventually they vacated the island in favour of the larger islands in the Caribbean. It became a haunt for pirates until it was seized by the British and my father acquired it from the Crown.’

‘He was English?’

Shona shook her head. ‘He came from Scotland. When he was a small boy his father, who was a cattle rustler, was hanged for his crimes from the great tree in Inverary. Orphaned and determined to make a better life for himself and those who came after him, he moved south. With an agile mind and being quick-witted, he soon grasped the way of money, borrowing money for ventures and succeeding where others failed. Soon those he’d borrowed from came to him—merchants and aristocrats alike.’

‘That was some achievement—the actions of a man driven by his ambition.’

‘Yes, he was, but he was also a man of principle and nobody’s fool. From an early age he was determined to succeed.’ She remembered her father telling her how he’d acquired stately properties, country estates and huge tracts of land both in Britain and in the colonies. ‘His success earned him respect, but much as he yearned to be accepted into the higher ranks of society, he was rejected. He was thirty-five years old when he married my mother—the daughter of a country gentleman—and secured Santamaria from the Crown.’

‘And they decided to make it their home.’

‘On their first visit to the island they fell in love with it. They were so taken with it, and found that the climate suited them perfectly, that they decided to settle here. Soon, with every reasonable amenity available, and forming a cultured and charming small society of merchants on the island, my father built a house to outshine any of their friends who lived in London. Sadly, my mother didn’t live long enough to enjoy it. She died of a tropical fever shortly after giving birth to me.’

‘That must have been hard for you—being deprived of your mother at such a young age.’

‘It was, although I was too young to remember her.’

‘And you were close to your father?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I adored him. When I went to England he visited me there. When he left and came back to the island he became ill. I never saw him again.’

‘I’m sorry. Your life must be pretty limited on the island—your social life stilted, hidden away from the world.’

‘I’m not, not really. I love the island and the life here—but sometimes I feel like a bird in a cage unable to fly free,’ she said on a note of regret. ‘I loved England and the time I spent there. I made lots of friends, girls I went to school with. One day I will go back—soon, I hope. But you are right. Visitors to Santamaria are few and far between.’

‘Then it’s a crime, living here without connecting to the outside world.’ His stare tracked her with an intensity that she could feel from the short distance that separated them. ‘You should be in Virginia or London, being worshipped by wealthy young planters or noblemen and dancing till dawn.’

She stared at him in the gloom, flattered and quietly thrilled to think he thought enough about her to voice his opinion on what he thought was best for her, even though she hated the idea of leaving Santamaria for good. She was wildly encouraged all of a sudden to think that if he liked her so well, then surely he would help her. He was clearly a gentleman, no matter what the rumours said about him having dealings with pirates.

She would ask him now. Her excellent instincts told her that she could trust this man. ‘What would you say,’ she began slowly, ‘if I asked you for a favour?’

‘A favour?’ His eyes narrowed in sudden wariness. ‘What sort of favour, exactly?’

Her eyes held his and her confidence did not waver, though her heart was in her throat. Squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘Tell me—are you married, Captain Fitzgerald?’

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘Would you take me to England?’

Zack sighed heavily, knowing he could not. As lovely and womanly as she was, he knew he’d find it difficult to conduct himself with the sort of gallantry his mother might expect of him. Shona McKenzie was very much a lady and the consequences of dallying with sweet innocents ensconced on his ship could affect his life in a most permanent fashion.

‘The Ocean Pearl is a merchant ship, Miss McKenzie. I’m sorry. There are no suitable accommodations for passengers.’

‘I’m not talking about being a passenger, Captain Fitzgerald. Would—would you consider marrying me?’

‘Good God’ was all he said, otherwise he simply stared at her, into her hope-filled emerald eyes.

Somewhat heartened that she hadn’t been refused outright, Shona went on, ‘Before you give me your answer, perhaps I should mention that my father left me a substantial inheritance and—’

‘Please don’t go on,’ he interrupted, raising a hand to stop her. ‘I believe I understand. Forgive me if under the circumstances I don’t know the appropriate response—perhaps I am expected to say that I am honoured—you see, it’s the first time in my life that I’ve been proposed to. Is that why you asked me to stay, Miss McKenzie?’ he asked crisply. ‘To soften me so you could ask me this?’

She lowered her head at the question and nodded. ‘Yes, it was.’

He cursed softly, shoving himself away from the wall. How dare she presume to know what kind of man he was, to take advantage of his feelings and his desire for her, which he had not bothered to hide. With his thumb, he tamped the coals into the bowl of his pipe. His hands were large and, though they appeared to have the strength to break anything they had a mind to, they were amazingly gentle—the slim clay pipe seemed like a fragile bird between them. Taking a leather pouch from his pocket, he shoved the pipe inside and placed it back in his pocket.