The Affectionate Adversary (7 page)

At the sight of her entering the galley each morning, his handsome smile lifted her heart and set it to dancing. His hand on her arm sent tingles to her elbow. Then to her shoulder. And up to her neck. She had thought how much she would like to know the touch of his fingertips on her skin. How very warm his arms would feel around her. How breath-taking would be the pressure of his lips against her mouth….

And that is when she always remembered her husband. Cold hands. Brief kisses on her cheek. Separate beds. With that lonely chill came the equal bleakness of a life of parties, gossip, and endless empty flatteries heaped upon her until she nearly suffocated. She had no desire to repeat such misery. Ever.

“Mrs. Carlyle.” The voice beside her was hushed, barely audible above the splash of waves against the hull. “Please may I call you Sarah?”

She swallowed as Mr. Locke took a step that brought his shoulder against her own. Such liberties could not be taken lightly. Yet, when would they see each other again? Why not for this one brief time permit the walls of etiquette to topple? To act as they were. As friends.

“Yes, Charles,” she whispered. “Today … now … you may call me Sarah.”

“And may I take your hand in mine?” Before she could answer, he slipped his fingers between her clasped hands and drew one of them into his own. “Beautiful Sarah, in these past two months, you have become to me the very dearest of women. You have cared for me. You have comforted me. You have encouraged me when I supposed nothing could ever give me hope.”

“I am …” Her heart thudded so heavily that she was not sure she could think of a single appropriate thing to say “I am … happy. Happy to have helped.”

“I understand you have many plans, Sarah. You have sisters, friends, your dreams of traveling the world.”

“As have you,” she continued. “You and your father will rebuild your own dreams. I am sure of it.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “You believe in me, though you know my every weakness.”

“Sir, I hardly think you weak in any way. On the contrary, you are the strongest man I have ever met. You fought nearly to your death aboard the
Tintagel
. And then you battled infection and the threat of permanent injury. Now you will go forward with your honor and your intellect intact, and you will boldly create a happy life for yourself. How much stronger could one be?”

“Is it possible, dear Sarah, that you do not find me terribly tedious?”

“Tedious? Upon my word, to me you are a marvel. I have never known anyone so handsome or so—” She clamped her mouth shut. One more heedless moment and she would confess things she had not acknowledged even to herself. Swallowing down her mortification, she spoke a single word.“Kind.”

His laugh sent spirals of joy through her heart. “Handsome and kind am I? Well, Sarah Carlyle, I believe I can better that, for I find you beautiful and kind and charming, delightful, witty—”

“Enough!” Sarah reached out and cupped her free hand over his mouth.

He caught it at once and kissed her palm. His eyes closed, he pressed his lips to her fingers, then to the back of her hand, and finally to her wrist.

“I cannot bear the thought of parting from you, my darling Sarah,” he murmured, his cheek so close to her own that she could smell the shaving soap he had used that morning. “The idea that I might fail to wake to the soft glow of your brown eyes or fall asleep to the scent of lavender on your skin is unbearable. I love you, Sarah. I cannot imagine living my life without you. Please, I beg you, Mrs. Carlyle, will you marry me?”

So stunned as to be rendered utterly speechless, Sarah stared at Charles. Marry him? Could he mean this seriously? So many times he had asked—pleaded with her in his delirium. She had denied him again and again, of course. But now, surely now, he was fully sensible. He knew what he said. He meant every word. This amazing, wonderful man wanted her to become his wife!

Yet how could such a thing ever be? He intended to build a trade. She would do nothing less than return to the Orient to disperse her fortune. Though he knew she had inherited some income from her father, he could not have any idea the vast scope of it. He did not know her as a baroness, as Lady Delacroix. He could not envision the incredible wealth, power, and prestige that would come to him as her husband.

In this way, he made the perfect mate. For once, she had met a man who loved her for who she was.

But how could she reveal the truth? His love would turn to greed. He would forbid her to give away the money and live as Christ demanded. His patience and kindness would end, and his visions of riches would take their place.

“You must allow me time, sir,” she said softly. “I had not expected … I never thought you might love me.”

“You do not reject me at once? Then I have hope.” He took both her hands into his own, enfolding and clasping them warmly. “My dearest lady, do you love me? Tell me the truth, and I shall be content.”

Sarah looked into his blue eyes, amazed at the radiant love she saw shining there. “I care for you, Charles,” she told him. “I confess, I think of you in a way far different than I have ever thought of any man. You are all that I could ever want in a husband. But … love … ? I cannot say I know the true meaning of earthly love.”

“Then let me teach you, for one glimpse of your face inspires such passion inside me that …” He shook his head. When he spoke again, his words were heated. “What hindrance can there be to our union, Sarah? If you believe in me, as you say you do, then you must trust me to care for you and our children. Give your father’s money to charity, and see how I shall fight my way back to health and financial success. I can do this, Sarah. With you by my side, I can do it. For us.”

Pursing her lips, she turned her head lest he see the tears welling in her eyes. “It is not so simple. There are … complications.”

“Your sisters will become my own, dear lady. I cannot doubt that I shall adore them as you do. Perhaps my father’s home may not be as large as that of your late husband, but in time, I can purchase a good house for us. You will have a lady’s maid, footmen, servants. You will wear fine gowns and mingle comfortably in society.”

“Heaven forbid,” Sarah muttered. “You mistake me, Charles. Such accoutrements of wealth are hardly my aim.”

“But you have said you believe I can create happiness for myself. I beg you to become a part of my life, and I shall make you happy as well.”

“Charles, please …” Sarah drew her hands from his. “I must have time to consider your offer. I am not the young girl I once was, and I do not proceed in any matter of great import without carefully weighing the implications.”

“Not a young girl? You cannot be more than five and twenty.”

“I am exactly that—and old enough to have experienced two lifetimes of woe. Believe me when I tell you that your offer of marriage holds many attractions for me. But I must pray, Charles. I must seek counsel from my Lord. I cannot and shall not give you my answer until I have done so.”

Pulling away for fear that he might continue trying to convince her—and succeed—Sarah gathered her skirts and hurried to the steps that led belowdecks. As she fled to her quarters, she lifted her fingers to her lips, pressing them there as he had done.

With one true kiss, she would be lost to Charles Locke. One reckless moment, and he might carry her away. A single touch, and she would abandon all her resolve. She must not permit him near again. Yet how she longed for his embrace.

  
Four
  

Though he had been pulled from the sea with nothing to call his own, Charles was given a frock coat, waistcoat, trousers, shirt, and cravat from the captain’s personal wardrobe. Only his boots remained from the fine set of garments with which he had departed London months before. On this day, as the
Queen Elinor
sailed up the Thames, Charles polished the brown leather to a high shine.

Would she have him? Dare Sarah Carlyle take the risk of being wed to a man she had known such a short time? A crippled pauper who by his own admission had nothing to offer her save a raft of promises and dreams? She must set aside all reason to take him on, Charles knew. Yet how could he make his way forward without her?

He would return to his father empty-handed, their plans erased by a band of sea rovers. But if he could bring back Sarah to become his wife, the journey would have been worth the loss. She was a treasure beyond compare. Her lovely form and bright brown eyes would inspire any man. Her faith in him, her stalwart certainty that he could achieve his goals, meant all the world to Charles.

Standing from the bench where he had shined his boots, he checked that his coat lapels lay flat upon his chest and his shirt collar stood firmly upright against his neck. Sarah had to love him. She must. He would do everything in his power to win her heart. No sacrifice could be too great, for he had seen inside the woman something that would complete him. She held the key to his success and happiness, and without her beside him, he could not imagine going on.

Breathing a prayer to the Almighty for strength and courage, Charles gritted his teeth and took a step toward the rail. Sarah stood with the other passengers as the ship sailed along the banks of the Thames, where wharves and warehouses teemed with laborers ready to greet each new vessel. His heart thudding, Charles took up his cane and forced his weakened leg forward. He
would
lift it from the deck. He
would
stride like a man again. And he
would
have Sarah Carlyle.

As he moved into position beside her, she spotted him and caught her breath. Her face broke into a brilliant smile. Cheeks pink and eyes shining, she greeted him warmly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Locke. I feared I should not see you at all today.”

He tipped his hat. “I was much occupied this morning, madam. If I may have a word with you in private, I shall present a summary of my thoughts.”

Glancing over his shoulder, she nodded. “The tea tables are empty, I see. Everyone waits at the rail, for we are expected to weigh anchor in less than half an hour.”

“Time enough.” He took her elbow and led her to a chair beneath the awning that had been erected to protect passengers from the equatorial sun. As he seated himself, Charles took a folded sheet of paper from the breast pocket inside his coat. “Before I present to you any repetition of that offer which yesterday caused you such bewilderment, Sarah, permit me to explain myself further.”

Lowering her eyes, she folded her gloved hands together on the table. “Charles, you must allow me to speak.”

“Hear me first, Sarah; I beg you.” The expression in her eyes told him what he had no desire to hear. He must convince her now. He must. “It is true that the chest of money upon which my father and I intended to build our fortune is lost. But as you said yourself, I am not without resources. On this page, I have listed my assets and my options. You know that I was educated at Cambridge, and it is likely that I shall find beneficial employment with any number of respectable establishments. Or I may choose to study further—in the law or in finance. My uncle works at the Bank of England, and I am certain he can assist me in joining him there. No matter what position I take, I am certain to rise in the ranks, and my salary will grow. But see now how I have outlined several other viable options for my future.”

Charles ran his finger down the paper on which he had detailed every possibility. “For example,” he went on, “it is likely that my father may know of investors who might be willing to embark on another tea venture—even without the basis of capital that was stolen from us. We are not wholly unconnected, for the family my father served as steward has many reputable friends and acquaintances. These gentlemen have access to financial resources at minimal risk to themselves. They are, in fact, eager to hear of various ventures that might seem foolhardy to some. On such as these are great fortunes built.”