Emily French - Bogus Bride

Without waiting for her agreement, he guided her gently toward the row of cabins reserved for first-class passengers. The glare lessened as they reached the accommodation area. There was a good deal of bustle and, apparently, some difficulty in finding accommodation for all the passengers.

Caitlin knew she was looking distracted as they walked along the deck. She had just caught a glimpse of a woman who had a fragile new baby, and who had lost two of her four other children on the voyage between Plymouth and Saint John. When she and Samuel were settled in their cabin, she would go find them in the mêlée of trunks, bags and milling people and renew their acquaintance.

It had been Caitlin who stood at her side when the two small bodies, almost too weightless to sink, were slid into the curling waves. At twenty-five, Eliza Freeman had already borne her phlegmatic husband, Tom Freeman, five children. Now three survived, and Caitlin wondered what the new country would do to the remaining children.

She was deep in thought when a familiar, throaty laugh sounded from one of the cabins. “Wait and see how things’ll change now that Sam’s taken a wife. No more late nights drinkin’, no more cardplayin’, no more visits to the Indian camp. Anyways, I made sure he had a good start t’ marriage. OF Sam drowned his sorrows like a man.”

Caitlin stumbled, halted, and applied a bit more pressure to the arm she was holding. Samuel narrowed his eyes and studied the woman by his side. Her green eyes widened and a red glow spread across her cheeks, and Samuel knew without asking that she’d already comprehended Murphy’s words. Ouch, he thought, was he in trouble.

Someone replied in a high-pitched feminine voice that echoed along the passageway, “Are you crazy or something? Don’t try to kid me that encouragin’ Sam t’ drink himself blind was for Sam’s own good, Liam Murphy!”

Murphy and that hellcat Kate Flaherty! Samuel swore under his breath, and his gaze shifted for the briefest moment to Caitlin’s face.

“Sure it was. I was only tryin’ to be of some help! A desperate man’s an irrational man, Kate. Sendin’ for a woman you haven’t seen in ten years is a foolish t’ing t’ do.”

“Sam Jardine didn’t need your help, you idiot! Succeed too well, and you fail completely! Sam’s quite capable of tending his own affairs. He may have been a little too far gone to handle straight logic last night, but he could still handle a woman.”

“Let’s not be downright churlish about this, Kate! Even if he didn’t disgrace himself last night, it’s going to be a little difficult for Sam to explain away little Zoe.”

Samuel winced inwardly. That insensitive turnip-brain! Now what was he to do? He pushed past the cabin, dragging Caitlin with him.

When she tried to jerk free, his fingers tightened. She glanced down at his hand, and then her eyes slanted up at him. Her green eyes glittered, as if she were trying to decide how to deal with this unexpected and puzzling information.

Samuel frowned, leaning forward slightly to study her upturned face. Her head was so close to his that he could smell the fresh scent of her hair. “You’d better walk very carefully,” he said, “because it’s rather slippery.” That was true enough. “You’re wondering what happens next, aren’t you?”

She looked at him fiercely. “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, a muted feminine sound that caught him off guard.

Samuel lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. His sun-browned hand looked very dark against her pale, delicate skin. “It’s a bit complicated, and you’re just going to have to trust me!” His fingertips lingered at her face.

He gently traced the outline of her face, pausing at her chin and tilting it upward. He groaned inwardly. He badly wanted to kiss those wet, shiny lips, not to confess some past indiscretion.

Dammit! What was the matter with him? Why was this so difficult? He wanted very much to tell her the truth, but just as he was about to do so, he paused, biting his lip.

Why should he confess? That was the honorable thing to do, and he was tired of honor. Wasn’t it better to let Caitlin find out the truth about himself now, rather than a couple of weeks from now?

Caitlin ran her index finger along the back of his hand. Samuel was strangely astounded at the incredibly erotic effect the simple caress had on him. And he certainly shouldn’t be having these feelings now.

If he once gave way to this raw emotion, he’d burn like straw. He could not accept it. He concentrated grimly on controlling his arousal. It was not easy. He took a grip on his resolve.

Caitlin stiffened imperceptibly, her mouth becoming a tight line. “Those in glass houses can’t afford to throw stones. Who am I to judge?”

Samuel cursed under his breath. Obviously, what he had been thinking showed on his face. Embarrassed, he turned away and ushered her into their cabin.

The small, musty cell contained several narrow wooden bunks, all of them shorter than Samuel’s length by a good six inches. A small commode stood nearby, atop which was a cracked porcelain bowl and pitcher.

Standing erect, Caitlin could easily touch the planked ceiling. How could a man possibly be comfortable in such a small cubicle? At the thought of sharing one of those bunks with Samuel, her insides turned upside down, and there was a strange, trembling sensation in her knees that she couldn’t explain.

Not a very sound medical diagnosis, she knew, but it did describe how it felt. What she needed was an explanation of Liam Murphy’s insinuations and innuendos.

“Care to share your thoughts?” he said from the doorway.

Caitlin looked away from her husband, so that he couldn’t see her face. She wanted to give away nothing of what she was feeling. Pain…betrayal…nothing she wanted him to see.

She thought quickly. If she framed her answer carefully, she could be honest, yet not tell too much. She gave a little laugh. “Actually, I was just thinking about the lack of accommodation. I was wondering where the little ones were going to sleep. Very unromantic thoughts, I assure you!” She was talking too fast, and she knew it.

Samuel’s lips curled into a lopsided smile. “You like children?” His tones were unfathomable.

Caitlin’s eyes darted to his eyes, and once again she found him looking at her. She wasn’t sure how to describe the look he gave her. Intense. Penetrating. Probing. It made her nervous.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said in a small, defensive voice. “It’s natural that the children should be in my thoughts. Young ones are very vulnerable to the damp night air.”

“Caitlin, you’d best sit down.” He paused, as if trying to decide how to phrase his next words. “We must talk.”

His face wore a curious expression. It was what Caitlin was beginning to think of as his “American” look—a look in which humor and sheer savage determination were very oddly mingled.

The wooden floor planks creaked as she took a seat on a bunk. She stared at the husband who had become a stranger. “What is it that you are so determined to talk about? Does it have anything to do with the absurd conversation we overheard just now? Or the fact that you fell asleep last night at a most inopportune moment?”

Both were questions he had feared. Samuel settled himself so that he could look straight at her. Seated, he dropped his laced fingers between his spread legs and raised his eyes to her face, where a smile that he could not interpret seemed only a challenge. He said nothing for a moment, sitting in silence while he gathered his thoughts.

Actually, he didn’t have a thing to say. It had simply been a wild idea that he must tell her about Zoe before they arrived at Fairbanks. Better to wait until they were home. He let the silence grow.