Marrying Christopher (34 page)

Either he had judged Lady Cosgrove wrong, or her sudden interest and generosity in Marsali was an attempt to repay her for the service rendered during Miss Cosgrove’s illness.

“The purposes of marriage are as follows.” Captain Gower’s head bent low as he read. “‘First, for the procreation of children to be—’” He stopped suddenly and cleared his throat before sending a furtive glance at Christopher. “Never mind that one. Not now, anyway,” he muttered under his breath.

Tugging at his beard with one hand, the captain buried his face in the book once more. “‘Second, as a remedy against sin, to avoid forn—’” He let out a loud, exasperated breath. “Disregard that one as well.” He sent an accusing glare in Lady Cosgrove’s direction. “‘
Third
, marriage was ordained for mutual society, help, and comfort— both in prosperity and adversity.’ Well, that’s better,” he declared loudly.

Confident smile back in place, the captain looked up, even as beads of sweat appeared on his brow beneath his cap. “‘Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.’ Face one another and join hands, please.”

Marsali removed her gloves and handed them, along with the sad clump of herbs she had been clutching, to Miss Cosgrove before turning to face him.

Christopher felt inordinately pleased at the laughter he saw in the depths of her eyes. He could tell she was not put off by any of the abnormality of their ceremony but amused by it, as was he. He took both of her hands in his and brought each to his lips as he held her gaze.

He heard Lady Cosgrove’s cluck of disapproval but did not care.
The ceremony be damned.
He was in love with Marsali, and he wished her to know it. Vows and promises might show his commitment, but his display of affection was important as well. Christopher understood that now.

“
Finally
,”
he could imagine his sisters saying, were they present.

“Mr. Thatcher first—
if
you are done devouring your bride’s fingers,” Captain Gower said sternly. “It would be good to get this done before the rain descends in earnest.”

Marsali laughed as pink tinted her cheeks.

Christopher flattened his lips and attempted an appropriately solemn expression. He was about to be married, after all. Strange, how he was not the least concerned. He had always imagined that if such a time ever came, it would be with some reluctance that he faced it.

“‘Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?’” Captain Gower asked. “‘To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?’”

“I will,” Christopher said. The words settled over him, bringing a deep contentment.
Keep unto her as long as you both shall live.
He squeezed Marsali’s hands gently, again feeling the need to offer her physical proof as well as his words.

“Miss Abbott.” Captain Gower leaned forward, attempting to shelter the Bible from the raindrops increasing in frequency. “‘
Wilt
thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep only unto him, so long as you both shall live?’”

“I will.” Marsali’s eyes appeared overbright, and Christopher worried she might be about to cry, until she gave him one of her radiant smiles.

“The ring, please,” Captain Gower said.

Marsali looked to the captain, her mouth open, as if to remind him there was no ring, when the cabin boy stepped from behind the bell, bearing Grandfather’s ring on his open palm.

“Thank you, Marc.” Christopher released Marsali’s hands and took the ring. The diamond had belonged to a grandmother he had never met, and now it would belong to his wife.

“Where… how?” Marsali looked over her shoulder at Lady Cosgrove.

“It isn’t mine,” Lady Cosgrove said, shaking her head. “Ask your husband.”

“My grandfather gave it to me,” Christopher said when she looked at him again. He held the ring up so she could better see it. “I promised him I would give it to no one but the woman I
loved
— and married. If not for that promise, I would have sold it to free you from your contract.”

“There was a better solution,” Captain Gower said.

“Yes,” Marsali agreed. “I am relieved you didn’t break your promise— for many reasons.” Her voice quivered as she held her hand out. Christopher slipped the ring over her finger.

Marsali stared at the ring a moment, then clutched her hand tightly to her chest. Christopher pulled her to him, holding her close. The assembled crew members let out a cheer and clapped. The accordion started up again, screeching painfully, causing them both to laugh until a clap of thunder made Marsali jump.

“Wait. Silence!” Captain Gower bellowed. “We haven’t finished yet. They haven’t spoken their vows. I haven’t declared them man and wife. There is more to this ceremony.” He pulled the paper from between the pages of the Bible and waved it overhead.

“I think it is enough, Captain,” Lady Cosgrove said approvingly. “The important parts have been said. The rest is up to them, and I believe they shall do very well.”

Captain Gower placed the paper back inside the book and slammed it shut. “I’ve got to make it official at least. Do you her wed with that ring?” he asked Christopher.

Still holding Marsali close, Christopher answered. “I do.”

“And you accept and pledge your troth to him and all that?” the captain asked Marsali.

“Yes, I do.” She laid her head against Christopher’s shoulder.

A flash of lightning lit the sky behind them.

“In that case I now pronounce you husband and wife. For better or worse, sickness and health, and rain and everything else.”

Thunder echoed across the sky once more, as fat raindrops began to pour down upon them.

Captain Gower tucked the book beneath his arm. “Just watch out for each other, all right?”

“We will.” They spoke in unison as the ship’s bell began pealing and the accordion started up a third time.

“Get that thing inside,” the captain bellowed. “We’re done here. All hands to your stations. Storm’s coming!”

“Congratulations,
Mrs. Thatcher
.” Christopher placed his arm around Marsali and steered her toward the stairs.

“And to you, Mr. Thatcher.” She tipped her face up to him, and a raindrop landed on her lips.

It would have been so easy to kiss it away, to hold her in his arms right here, where they could have at least a modicum of privacy with the others rushing inside to shelter or to their posts.

But the timing still wasn’t right.

Patience
,
he told himself again as they followed Lady Cosgrove and her daughter into the saloon for the wedding breakfast.
She is your wife now. You have the rest of your life to kiss her.

He hoped it would be a very long life but a very short servitude.

As she had been expecting, at exactly ten o’clock Christopher knocked on Marsali’s door. She opened it quietly, lest Captain Gower hear.

“Mrs. Thatcher, might I interest you in an evening stroll on deck to look at the stars?” Christopher whispered.

“I keep wondering to whom you are speaking when you say that.” Marsali tied her wrap securely over her nightgown, then bent down to retrieve her shoes from the floor.

“With you attached to it, I have decided the name Thatcher is not detestable at all,” Christopher said. “In fact, I am rather fond of it now.”

“I
adore
it.” She pulled the door closed softly behind her and followed him out into the hall. Lady Cosgrove would be entirely scandalized to see Marsali parading around in her sleeping attire, but Marsali did not particularly care what anyone thought of her tonight— except for her husband.

Marsali wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned into him as they left the saloon. “Who has the watch tonight?”

“Our favorite first officer.” Christopher’s lips turned down in a scowl she found endearing.

“Dear Mr. Luke.” Marsali felt the tiniest bit sorry for him. The captain had assigned him so many shifts lately.

“The one and only. And you can bet he’ll tell the captain we were out alone together at night.” Christopher paused to look up at the sky. “No stargazing tonight. Too many clouds.”

“No matter,” Marsali said. There would be other nights with stars— many, many nights. “And if Mr. Luke does see us, all the better that we are outside than
in
alone together at night.” Marsali felt— as she had earlier— rather perturbed about the restrictions that came with their marriage. So she could not become with child. That did not mean a husband and wife could not be alone together, did it? She only wished to spend time with Christopher, to enjoy his companionship, to converse.

And perhaps to have that kiss he’s promised.

Holding back a sigh, she bent to put her shoes on now that they were outside.

“It’s cooler tonight, and the air feels heavy,” Christopher remarked as he lit the lantern he’d brought from his cabin.

“Fog,” Marsali said grudgingly. “Just as we had in Manchester. I had hoped America would be different.”

“Maybe Virginia will be.” Christopher took her hand and led her out to the main deck, toward the wheel.

“Mr. Luke is not there,” Marsali said, pointing to the empty post.

Christopher shrugged. “No doubt he will be shortly. But let’s not waste our time worrying about him. I should like the evening to discover more about my wife— not the first officer who tried to steal her.”

“He did no such thing.” Marsali tugged at Christopher’s hand. “This way. Hurry. And put out that lantern.” She led him carefully across the deck to the side where the lifeboats were stowed. Stopping beneath the one she’d sought refuge in the other day, she asked, “What do you think?”

His mischievous grin was answer enough. “You first. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Marsali didn’t wait to be told again but gathered a fistful of her nightgown in one hand and climbed on top of the nearest crate. From there she hopped to the top of a barrel of water, then leaned over to catch the edge of the rigging. Five squares up, and she was able to let go and hoist herself into the boat. Christopher was right behind her, and she’d barely scooted over and tugged her wrap back in place when he landed beside her. The lifeboat wobbled for a second, and she gripped the side.

“Sorry.” Christopher slid forward and lowered himself between the seats, to the center of the boat. “I weigh a bit more than you. We’ll have to be careful to keep it balanced.”

“Why do they store them like this, anyway?” Marsali asked, sitting on the floor beside him and arranging her gown carefully.

“More room on deck, I suppose,” Christopher said. “And it would be faster to launch them, as they’re already hooked up to the pulleys.”

She suppressed a shudder. “How terrifying that would be. I’m glad ours has been a calm crossing.”

“It has been anything
but
calm.” He searched for her hand in the dark and found it. “I came on this trip seeking peace, and look what happened. Now I’ve a wife!”

“Most fortunate, don’t you think?” Marsali attempted to bat her lashes coyly, as she’d seen Lydia do, though the effort was likely lost on him in the darkness.

“
Extremely
fortunate.” Christopher put his arm around her and pulled her close. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. “I think I should like to stay here all night with you.”

“We should have brought our pillows,” Christopher lamented.

“There are some pieces of cork beneath the seats.” Marsali stretched and pressed her toe against one. “I used them the other day to be more comfortable.”

“You did look quite cozy when I peeked at you,” Christopher said. “Ensconced as you were and lost in the book you were reading.”

“I wasn’t really reading,” Marsali confessed. “I’d finished the book earlier that day. I was thinking.”

“About Thomas?” Christopher’s tone turned serious. “We should discuss him before tomorrow.”

“I know we should, but not now. And no,” she said, tipping her face up to him, “I was up here thinking about
you
, about how you are like Hawkeye from
Last of the Mohicans
.”

Christopher snorted loudly. “My wife is blessed with a keen imagination.”

Marsali placed a finger over his lips. “Shh. Do you want them to discover us here?” She paused, remembering something that had been nagging at her for the past couple of days. “How did you know I was up here the other afternoon? I wasn’t making any noise.”

“Your hair ribbon.” Christopher turned to her. “It was floating up with the breeze, along with wisps of your pretty hair.”

“My hair is not pretty,” Marsali said. “When I was younger, maybe, but—”

It was Christopher who silenced her this time, his finger brushing over her lips in a soft caress. “Long or short, your hair will always be lovely to me.” He reached out to touch it, then stopped. “May I?”