Merline Lovelace (21 page)

Startled, Sarah twisted on the seat. “He lost a wife? I didn’t know. How?”

“I’ve already said more than I should. You’ll have to hear the story from Liam himself, if he chooses to tell it.”

“Jamie, Abigail is my sister! Your sister now, too. Surely you put her needs and her happiness ahead of your mate’s?”

“Liam’s her husband,” he replied evenly. “He’s responsible for her happiness.”

She sat back, frowning at the gentle rebuke and resenting it a bit, too.

Of course Liam was responsible for Abigail’s happiness, but Sarah had carried that precious burden for so long that it was hard to put it down. Throughout the journey home, she’d worried and fretted about her
family. Although she knew how much Jamie loved the sea, she’d fallen in with his plans to sell the
Phoenix
and use the funds to make Kerrick’s Keep into a home for her and the rest of the Abernathys. Now, it appeared, Abigail had made a home for herself, and for the boys, too.

For the first time in Sarah’s life, she had only her own needs to consider…and her husband’s. The thought sobered her, and made the future seem suddenly, starkly uncertain. Could she ask Jamie to change his life for her? Only her?

If she truly loved him, would she want him to?

Sarah bit the inside of her lip. She couldn’t think about herself and Jamie now. She should be giving fervent thanks to the Lord for her brother and sister’s safe return. She should be grateful that Liam had offered them both his protection. That Abigail had someone of his strength to turn to in her hour of need.

She sat back against the seat, thinking of Liam’s many sterling qualities. Suddenly, a fragment of conversation came to her. The last time she’d talked to her sister, just before Sarah and Jamie had been lost at sea, Abigail had expressed revulsion at the suggestion that she might enjoy the intimacies of marriage. Yet she’d admitted that someone had kissed her. Someone whose embrace hadn’t frightened her, or shocked her.

The idea that Abigail might have married Liam Burke as much from affection as from necessity burrowed into Sarah’s mind. The notion stayed with her for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night, when she lay beside Jamie in an upstairs chamber of the Royal Arms. The same notion kept her hands tight on the rail of the packet that carried them across a few
miles of choppy Channel waters to Ryde just before noon the following day. It put a catch in her throat when Jamie handed her down at the gate of a thatched cottage and she spotted her sister seated in the stone-walled garden, painting the trio of thoroughly disgruntled youngsters who posed for her.

“Abby! Charlie!” Tears spilling from her eyes, Sarah flung open the gate. “Harry, oh Harry! And is that really you, Giles? You’ve…you’ve grown so!”

Jamie stood back, watching as his wife’s family gaped at the woman running toward them. Charlie recovered first. Shouting his joy, he raced for Sarah and threw himself into her outstretched arms. The older boys followed an instant later. Abigail, of course, burst into tears.

Sarah tried to disengage from the excited, exultant, stammering boys and go to her sister. Before she could work free of their combined hugs and peppering questions, Liam Burke came around a corner of the cottage. He took in the scene at a glance.

“Miss Sarah!”

Across the garden, his eyes met Jamie’s. His strong, rugged face lit up with satisfaction.

“You beat the sea, then?”

“Aye, Liam, we beat it.”

He started for Jamie, only to be detoured by his wife’s heartrending sobs. With a gentle hand under her arm, he raised her from her little stool. Her paint brush fell unheeded from her hand and made a yellow streak down the front of the pale blue pelisse she wore as protection against the brisk breeze.

“Abigail, acushla, come greet your sister.”

She didn’t need further encouragement or support.
Pulling out of Liam’s loose hold, she ran across the garden.

Sarah folded her into her arms.

Five males of varying ages and sizes waited while the two women laughed and wept and hugged and exclaimed and wept some more. The breeze off the sea fluttered the newly budded leaves in the garden. Seagulls swooped overhead. The sun gilded Abby’s curls and painted Sarah’s tanned cheeks with a glow.

At last, the elder sister wrapped an arm around the younger’s shoulders. Turning her to face the others, she smiled mistily at the two men.

“You must greet your new brother as well, Abby, as I must greet mine.”

The younger woman’s wide, swimming eyes registered confusion. Bracing himself for another torrent of tears, Jamie bowed.

“Your sister has done me the great honor of becoming my wife, Mistress Burke.”

To his surprise and considerable relief, a wobbly smile lifted the corners of Abby’s heart-shaped mouth. Disengaging herself from Sarah’s arms, she glided forward to stand before him.

“I’m so glad,” she said shyly, her eyes luminous in the perfect oval of her face. “Even I, as young and foolish as I was when we sailed from Macao, could see that my sister loved you to distraction. I only hope that you will make her as happy as Liam has made me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jamie replied, smiling.

Resolutely, he turned his back on the sparkling waters of the sound and accompanied the laughing, noisy group into the cottage.

J
amie and Liam sat at the scrubbed oak table that took up most of the cottage’s small dining parlor long after their wives and younger brothers-in-law had retired, exhausted from the tumultuous reunion. The remains of a fire glowed in the hearth, doing valiant duty against the chill mists that shrouded the cottage. A faint curl of smoke drifted from the fire and added its flavor to the unmistakable tang of the sea.

The leather-wrapped bottle of brandy sitting in the center of the oak table did as much as the low, flickering flames to dispel the nip of the night air. The bottle’s contents had diminished considerably since Liam had brought it and two pewter-handled mugs out some hours ago.

“Customs officials seized the
Phoenix
the day we docked,” he told Jamie quietly, finishing the tale of his own odyssey after a long, fruitless search for Sarah and the captain. “She’s berthed at the Customs House pier, bein’ held while the courts squabble over whether or not you’re dead, and who should have claim to your estate.”

“And the cargo?”

“Auctioned off to cover the Crown’s tariffs. I made sure the crew got their share and the ship’s berthin’ fees were covered.”

Jamie’s hand tightened on the pewter handle. It was no more than he’d expected. His ship seized. His cargo auctioned to the highest bidder. His men dispersed to the four winds. Tipping back his head, he took several long swallows. The brandy burned a welcome ribbon of fire down his throat.

Liam joined him, grunting when the fiery French brandy hit his gut. The men sat in silence for a moment, each with his own memories of the sea journey that had brought them to this place. Liam’s deep voice broke the stillness.

“I used my share to buy this cottage and a small foundry in the village.”

“A foundry?”

After so many years together, Jamie had almost forgotten that his first mate had been a blacksmith in Ireland before being pressed into the navy. It seemed odd to him to think of Burke as a landsman…until Jamie remembered that he, too, would soon join the ranks of those with their feet planted firmly on dry land.

“Aye,” Liam answered with a smile. “I turn out barrel hoops for the cordage trade in Portsmouth, and provide a tidy income for our needs.”

“Why here?” The aged oak creaked as Jamie leaned back. “Why didn’t you take your wife home to Ireland?”

Burke’s massive shoulders lifted. “What family I had in Dublin is gone. Abby wanted to be near the boys, and after all these years, I found I needed to be
near the sea. This was as good a place as any for me to settle.”

“Near the sea, but not on it.”

“No, not on it. I take a skiff out whenever the boys want to try their hand at fishing or working the ropes, but my sailing days are over. I won’t leave my wife again, not even for you.”

“I won’t ask you to.”

Liam’s keen eyes met Jamie’s across the polished oak. “What of you? Do you take to the seas again?”

“No. Like you, I have a wife. She deserves a home and a husband.” His mouth curved in a rueful smile. “Such as he is.”

“I’m wonderin’ what the crew would say if they heard us now,” Liam drawled. “They might believe I’d get myself petticoat-tied, but never you, lad, never you.”

Jamie shook his head. “The Abernathy sisters have a way about them, do they not?”

“Aye, that they do.”

The smile slowly faded from the Irishman’s eyes. “What will you do then?”

Jamie swirled his brandy, staring down into its amber depth. “I’ll put the
Phoenix
on the block and use the funds to restore Kerrick’s Keep. It will take more than money to restore my reputation, I know, but for Sarah’s sake I’ll publicly repent my sins and become a pattern card of propriety.”

“You’d sell the
Phoenix
for her?”

“I’d sell my soul for her.”

“It’s that way, then?”

“Aye, it’s that way.”

“Are you sure?” Liam asked slowly. “If ever a man was born to the sea, it’s you.”

“I’m sure,” Jamie answered steadily. Rising, he held out a hand to his friend and onetime shipmate. “I thank you for bringing the
Phoenix
home.”

Rough, callused palms gripped hard and fast.

“You’re welcome.”

“Come on, man, let’s join our wives. It’s been a long and most interesting day.”

The next afternoon, Sarah and Abby slipped out of the cottage. For the first time since their joyous reunion, they had a few hours alone together while Jamie made his acquaintance with the older boys and Liam took the inquisitive, energetic Charlie to see the giant squid one of the fishermen had caught in his net.

Dressed in warm pelisses and gowns in a rainbow of soft colors, their bonnet strings fluttering in the breeze, the sisters walked arm in arm along the cliffs that fringed Ryde’s picturesque harbor. Below, whitecaps whipped up by the brisk breeze feathered the Channel waters. Fishing boats bobbed on the waves. The packet from the mainland wove its way between them. Thatched cottages much like the one Abby and Liam occupied formed a circle well back from the sea, spilling spring flowers from window boxes. It was a scene at once nautical and pastoral. Sarah could understand why her sister loved Ryde so…and the man who’d brought her there.

“He’s so gentle, and so kind,” Abby confided as they walked the shell-lined path. The glow on her face came not just from the wind, Sarah realized.

“Throughout the awful journey home, Liam buoyed my spirits. Over and over, he sang the captain’s praises, and told Charlie and me how he once swam through miles of crashing surf to save a seaman swept
away by the undertow. The captain would save you, he assured us.” Abby gave a happy sigh. “And he did.”

“But how did you come to marriage?”

“I’m certain fear and uncertainty sent me into his arms at first. But soon, I don’t quite know when, I found myself taking more than comfort from him.”

Under the brim of her straw bonnet, anchored with apricot ribbons that fluttered in the breeze, bright spots of color rose in Abby’s cheeks.

“I understand now what you were trying to tell me aboard the
Phoenix.
A woman who loves her husband and submits to him in all things can take joy in…well…in all things.”

Sarah had added considerably to her knowledge of marriage after so many months with Jamie.

“I may have overstated the case a bit,” she told her sister dryly. “It’s not necessary for a wife to submit to her husband in all things. Once in a while, she may be forced to deliver a stern lecture or even a clout alongside the head.”

Abby’s eyes widened, then she gave a trill of laughter. “You’re funning me, aren’t you? As if either you or I would do something so hoydenish! Oh, I’ve missed you so.”

Wisely, Sarah decided not to disillusion her sister further about exactly how hoydenish she’d become these past months. She pressed Abby’s arm to her side. “And I’ve missed you, pet.”

The sisters continued their walk, their skirts tossed about their ankles by the capricious gusts.

“Must you go to live so far north?” Abby asked wistfully. “I hate to lose you again.”

“Kerrick’s Keep isn’t that far to the north. Only six
days’ carriage ride, Jamie says.” She lifted her face to the breeze. “Or three days’ sail with a wind like this, I would guess.”

“Will you and the captain sail north?”

Lowering her gaze to Abby’s, Sarah smiled. “He’s your brother by marriage, sweet. Can’t you bring yourself to call him by his name?”

“No, never! He’ll always be the captain to me, and to Liam. I imagine he cannot wait to reclaim the
Phoenix
and sail her home to this castle by the sea.”

Sarah’s smile faded. “It’s not a castle. It’s a stone keep built some centuries ago by a robber baron. Jamie says it’s in a sad state of disrepair. He plans to sell the
Phoenix
and use the monies to restore it.”

“It sounds most drafty and uncomfortable. Are you sure you wish to live there?”

A frown pulled at Sarah’s brows. She slowed her pace, then stopped. Abby glanced at her in dismay.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have spoken ill of Kerrick’s Keep. Do forgive me.”

Unspeaking, Sarah stared at Abby’s face. Contrition rushed like the morning title into the younger woman’s huge, aquamarine eyes.

“Truly, I didn’t mean to disparage the captain’s home. Of course he wishes to restore it, and live there with you.”

“He thinks he does,” she answered with an ache in her heart. “He says he does.”

A fresh gust caught their bonnet ribbons. Abby brushed the dancing strings aside and stared at her sister in confusion.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Jamie doesn’t wish to live at Kerrick’s Keep,” Sarah said slowly, painfully. “Not really. He’s only
leaving the sea and taking up residence ashore to provide me…to provide all of us…with a home.”

With a newfound maturity that sat well on her slender shoulders, Abby grasped her sister’s hands.

“I have a home now,” she reminded Sarah gently. “And the boys are welcome whenever they wish to come. You needn’t worry so much about us any longer. We’re taken care of. Your husband must be your first concern now. You must make a home to suit him, and yourself.”

Sarah stared at her for long moments, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I must.”

Tucking her arm in her sister’s once more, Abby steered them both back onto the path. Her conversation meandered from family matters to the hollyhocks she’d planted by the garden wall to the kittens just born to the cat next door.

“Liam picked one out for me. It’s white and gold, with the dearest little pink nose. Liam says it reminds him of me, though I would hope my nose isn’t quite that shade.”

Sarah barely heard her sister’s musical voice drone on about domestic matters. Her mind whirled, thinking of the home that would best suit Jamie Kerrick.

Again and again, her gaze drifted to the whitecaps rolling across the Channel.

She spent the rest of the morning in the company of her boisterous family. She heard all about the older boys’ exploits at school, which seemed to involve many more hours spent in pranks than in study. With only a faint flutter of alarm, she listened to Charlie describe his further adventures aboard the
Phoenix
after Sarah had dropped into the sea.

Lunch was a delicious fish stew prepared by the Burke’s housekeeper-cum-cook and served in the garden. The high stone walls protected the lively group from the wind and captured the warmth of the late spring sun.

After lunch, Liam whisked Jamie off to inspect his foundry and the brothers coaxed their sisters into taking the pony cart to Carisbrooke Castle, where Charles I was once held prisoner. The twelfth century ramparts echoed with the boys’ laughter and dramatic repulse of an imaginary attack.

The sun hung low and hazy over the sound when Sarah and Jamie caught the last packet back to the mainland, promising to return the next morning after retrieving their belongings from the Royal Arms. En route to the hostelry, Jamie directed the driver to stop at Twenty-Seven Broad Street.

“I’ll just be a moment, Sarah. I want to let Huddington know that we’ll be staying with your sister, and hear what he’s found out.”

She scooted across the seat and climbed out of the cab. “I’ll come with you. I want to hear, too.”

It didn’t occur to Sarah that few wives enjoyed such free and open access to their husband’s business affairs. She’d managed the Abernathy accounts for so long, she took it for granted that she would be privy to whatever affected her and hers.

The young barrister threw open the door at Jamie’s knock. He wore the same rusty black robe and outmoded wig atop his bright gold locks, but the face under the old-fashioned sausage curls blazed with an excitement not there three days before.

“My lord! Lady Sarah! Where have you been?”

Jamie arched one black brow. “I beg your pardon?”

Sarah bit down on her lower lip to hide a smile. Her husband would no more answer to impecunious young barristers than he would to a disorderly seaman, she thought.

“Oh, I say, do forgive my lack of manners.” Properly chastened, Thomas Huddington ushered them both into the dusty chamber. “Would you care for a dish of tea, Lady Sarah? They brew a tolerable blend of Orange Spice in the pub next door.”

“No, thank you.”

Sarah sat and draped her skirts gracefully around the rickety bow chair in front of the desk. Jamie stood behind her, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. In truth, he had little other option, except to take Huddington’s chair behind the desk or perch atop one of the piles of books stacked haphazardly about the room.

“I’m sorry if I seem overanxious.” The lawyer threw Jamie a glance at once nervous and excited. “I sent an urgent missive to you at Barrowgate, but you’d already left. The gatekeeper at the school couldn’t…or wouldn’t…tell my courier where you’d gone.”

The hand on Sarah’s shoulder grew a bit more heavy. “An urgent missive? With what news?”

“The most astounding news, my lord.”

Forgetting himself, Huddington speared his fingers into his hair. The wig tilted precariously over his ear before being impatiently yanked back into place.

“I’ve had a busy time of it these past three days, I’ll tell you. First the inquiries at the banks and then the visit from Mr. Dalton and then the letter from the Admiralty. I swear, the door knocker hasn’t stopped rapping for…”

“Slow down, lad,” Jamie ordered curtly. “Start at
the beginning. Tell me who’s in charge of my accounts.”

“The courts assigned the banking firm of Hereford, McIvers, and Jocelyn to take over the accounts handled by Bickersford, your previous man of business. I spoke to Mr. McIvers myself and got a record of all income received and expenses incurred to date on your behalf.”

The lawyer shuffled through the papers on his desk, plucked out one, and thrust it at his client. Jamie read through it, his mouth curving.

“Well, well.”

“Well what?” Sarah demanded.

“The tea Liam and the crew brought out of China was the first of the new harvest to arrive in London. The chests sold for three times what they would have brought when all the East Indiamen landed their cargoes.”