Illusion of Innocence: Regency Rebelles Series

Chapter 14.

The canals continued into the city, narrower than the North Holland Canal, but navigable by many smaller, colorful boats.

He bought her a paper of roasted chestnuts from one and then proceeded to steal half of them. From a street market stall, he bought her a doll dressed exactly as many of the women on the street were, in long woolen skirts and wooden clogs, with a large white kerchief crossed over their breasts, a pristine white linen apron, and the cutest white-winged caps over their braided hair.

Then he hired one of the boats to take them along the serene waterways so Verity could enjoy the picturesque brickwork of the buildings lining the canals, shoulder-to-shoulder and several storeys high.

The boatman was a wealth of knowledge about his city and was able to point out the homes of venerated artists, prominent citizens and scenes of grisly crimes.

Speaking in good English, albeit with a hard Low Countries accent, the man related the tales with relish, as if he enjoyed seeing Verity’s eyes widen and her cheeks pale, and then he”d winked at her, as if to say it was all a fiction.

As they walked back along the street to the docks, Sinclair advised her not to put too much store in the boatman”s tales.

‘The more gruesome he makes them likely the bigger the tips he gains from some passengers.’

‘But not us?’

‘I assure you, not us. He”d do well to be a little more discerning about the caliber of his clientele. Those were not the tales with which to regale a lady’s delicate ears.’

‘So he should have treated me like a silly, vapid miss who would swoon at any hint of wickedness and mayhem?’

He stopped in the street and looked her up and down, lingering on the delicate, feminine bonnet, which had long lost its battle to control her wild blonde curls since she had no maid to help her style them.

Those assessing grey eyes held hers for a moment as if to challenge her to disagree with the pronouncement he was about to make.

Darkening in a way that brought heat to Verity’s cheeks, his gaze swept on down over her figure in a leisurely perusal, dragging the heat from her cheeks to other parts of her body.

Impatient with her helpless reaction to him, Verity made to move on, but he stayed her.

‘You look exactly like a sheltered, innocent lady who might swoon at tales of wickedness and mayhem, but I am rapidly learning that is not how you are at all, is it, wife?’

‘I should hope not,’ Verity responded with spirit, tugging at his arm as he tucked her hand around it, and insisting they continue along the street.

Just before the docks, they came upon another small collection of market stalls, and Sin stopped to buy a small round of cheese, a link of smoked sausage and a loaf of crusty bread.

‘This is a bit awkward,’ he muttered as he tried to juggle his purchases in one hand while maintaining his hold on her arm with the other.

Verity allowed herself a moment to enjoy the prosaic image of cynical Sinner Wolfenden carrying their dinner home from the market before she offered her assistance.

‘I can carry the bread,’ she said, ‘then you might manage the rest.’

She took it from him before he could protest, and they resumed their stroll back to the ship.

Like an ordinary married couple.

She”d store that thought for later. When she was alone in her bed. A pang of sadness at the thought of being alone sliced through her belly and surprised her. She decided that was another thing best saved for later pondering.

‘Are we not to eat Mr Jay”s fare tonight?’

‘Won”t be much. Probably cold stew and day-old bread. Most of the men, all except the few on watch, will be half seas over in a tavern somewhere along the docks, including Jay and Peg.’

‘Oh—’

Verity’s feet dragged, but Sin kept her moving forward.

‘Oh—what?’ he asked, looking down at her with one eyebrow cocked so he appeared too diabolically handsome by far.

‘I”m sorry. Did you—want to be with the men? I don”t mean to be a nuisance. I”d be fine in the cabin—’

‘I will not leave you aboard the ship alone—or anywhere else either. Resourceful as you have shown yourself to be, no gentleman would ever leave a lady unprotected around rough seamen and in a strange country.’

Ohseemed to be the only response to make to that honorable declaration, and she”d already uttered that inanity. Verity closed her mouth and concentrated on keeping up with Sin’s long strides and taking in the native color of her surroundings.

‘So different from home. And yet in a way, similar. People going about their everyday lives, gossiping on street corners, hurrying home with bread and cheese from the market, as we are, flirting in covered doorways—’

They both pretended not to notice the couple who were oblivious to their surroundings. Sin chuckled once they were past.

‘It’s really only the background that’s different, the architecture, the clothing, and the language one hears on the street. People—are pretty much the same the world over.’

There was a sudden preponderance of drunks and rough-looking characters when they turned the corner onto the street lined with warehouses and inns and taverns of dubious aspect.

A man huddled on the steps of one establishment, hugging a bottle half under his coat. Another staggered along the street, calling obscenities after a woman hurrying away from him in the opposite direction, and further along, two men seemed to be involved in an altercation swiftly escalating with the promise of a brawl while others stood around hectoring and inciting.

‘Dammit,’ Sin hissed. ‘I knew I should’ve found a cab to bring us back here. Stay close.’

‘I”m not afraid,’ Verity said stoutly, although she made more of an effort to match Sin’s lengthened stride.

‘You should be,’ he told her. ‘Men in their cups are not known for their polite manners.’

‘I have a pistol in my reticule. Should I get it out?’

Sin’s killing pace faltered to a halt, and he stared down at her in—awe.

‘Do you know how to use it?’

Not awe. He was mocking her.

Merriment bubbled in her chest at his doubtful and comical expression, but she firmly repressed it. He was right to be concerned. She was not particularly at ease herself with their current surroundings and the sooner they gained the safety of the Princess Eloise the better.

But she couldn’t allow his skepticism to stand.

‘You haven”t spent much time in Stannesford, have you? Or Pennington Towers?’ she asked, urging him forward again.

‘What has that to do with you carrying a pistol?’

‘That the ladies of Stannesford are—not quite what they seem? Did you not know your sister-in-law could probably best you in a sword fight? And she”s no mean shot with a pistol. The same could be said of my sister, Charity, Lady Raquelle Adderley, Camden now, and Lady Carly Arlington. Even your cousin, Lady Victoria, and the Lady Angelique Adderley are proficient at both. I, however, draw the line at sword-fighting. Too—physical perhaps. I don”t know, but it never appealed. I am, on the other hand, rather deadly with my little derringer.’

The ship was in view now, standing out in the canal, but they still had to pass the argumentative group now spilling across the street.

‘We will continue this fascinating discussion later,’ Sin suddenly muttered tersely. ‘Can you run?’

‘Of course, I can,’ Verity answered in disgust. ‘I have legs.’

He paused to waggle a suggestive eyebrow at her, and Verity longed to hit him, but she didn’t have a hand free. Bashing him with the loaf of bread seemed to be a waste.

‘If I say run, don”t argue. Lift those dainty skirts and run like—Nipper—until you”re on the dock. The watch will see you coming and come to your aid if needs be.’

‘What about you?’ she asked, a sudden panic blooming in her chest.

‘Don”t worry about me. I’ve dealt with worse. It”s you that will catch their attention.’

‘In that case—,’ Verity said, disengaging her arm and jostling the bread into the same hand clutching her reticule. Delving into its depths, she pulled out a mother-of-pearl-mounted silver pistol.

‘Damn it, Very. That toy wouldn”t stop a kitten in its tracks. Put the damned thing away.’

‘Believe me, it can do a lot of damage to a man”s eye, or his heart if he takes a direct hit.’

‘And you”re that good?’ he demanded, his voice rife with derision.

‘I am,’ she said calmly.

Sin’s eyes widened, then narrowed as quickly with determination.

‘You have one bullet. There”s a dozen of them.’

‘I do have another pistol,’ she said softly.

‘God. Help. Me. If I say run,’ he suddenly snapped at her, ‘you God damn run. Do you hear me?’

They were almost level with the group of men, most seemingly well in their cups. Sin had guided her as far from them as the street allowed, but one or two noticed and threw suggestive comments their way Verity was sure would singe her ears if she actually understood what they were saying.

Then one of the two protagonists threw a hefty punch at his opponent’s chest and suddenly the attention of all the spectators was riveted on the mill and they were raucously voicing their approval of the promising melee.

‘Step out,’ Sin said, once again lengthening his stride so Verity had to run to keep up. As he”d promised, Crabby, who was on watch, lowered the boat and met them as they reached the landing. Without allowing her time to catch her breath, Sin lifted her off her feet, dumped her in the stern of the small boat, and followed her down.

‘Row,’ he told Crabby.

Verity looked back and realized a couple of the drunken louts had actually followed them after all. They were moving with such erratic momentum that they were probably going to fall into the boat before Crabby could turn it around and put sufficient distance between them and the dock.

With the loaf of bread safely in her lap, Verity raised the pistol.

‘Halt or I”ll shoot,’ she shouted, and the men came to a bumbling stop, banging into one another and narrowly missing, falling into the oily water of the canal.

‘Put that damned thing away,’ Sin roared at her, grabbing her wrist and pressing it down against the seat.

The two men were now pointing and jabbering, and Crabby had the dinghy turned around and heading for Princess Eloise.

Verity freed her wrist and calmly stowed the pistol back in her reticule, giving Sin a serene little smile as she did so.

Sin said nothing, his mouth clamped in a tight, hard line over his teeth, which suggested to Verity his forbearance would only last until they were alone in the cabin. Not that she was thrilled to be proved right yet again.

‘Dammit, woman,’ he exploded the moment they were alone. ‘I should put you over my knee and paddle your bare arse. Give me those damn pistols. Now.’

‘No, Sin, I will not. And perhaps you could temper your language.’

Eyes blazing, he leaned towards her with menace.

‘Women and pistols are a dangerous combination. No one is safe around a female with a firearm.’

‘And that would include you if you try to take it from me,’ she told him with an equally vicious edge to her voice. ‘I could put the merest nick in your ear or shoot a button off your coat if you”d like me to prove my abilities.’

‘While I”m wearing it?’

The words almost jerked out of his mouth.

‘Of course, while you”re wearing it. Otherwise there”d be no point.’

She flicked her eyebrows at him and thought he was truly going to lose his temper with her. To her surprise, all the outrage seemed to drain out of his body.

‘You”re that good?’ he asked again, a little more respect in his voice than before.

‘I am.’

She wasn”t boasting. It was a statement of fact.

‘One day,’ he said, a dry tone to his voice, ‘you will have to demonstrate for me. Right now, I”ll take your word for it. But I”m warning you, those things stay out of sight—unless your life is truly in danger.’

‘It could have been, back there on the dock.’

‘All you were in danger of was a bit of unpleasantness. If those louts had made it into the boat, they’d have been in the water so fast they”d think they”d overshot.’

Verity observed the certainty on his face and then tilted her head at him.

‘You”re that good?’ she asked softly, and he responded with a cocky, very male grin.

‘I am,’ he assured her.

Those last few words felt like a truce of sorts, and they settled to the meal of creamy cheese and tasty smoked sausage accompanied by chunks of crusty, nutty-flavored bread and a bottle of rich, red burgundy Sin had produced from another cupboard in the bulkhead.

The perfect end to a most interesting day, in Verity’s view.

When Sin woke next morning, he lay gazing up at the tidy woodwork of the ceiling of the cabin above him. He didn”t often sleep up here for he didn”t mind the cozy enclosure of the lower bunk while Nik preferred the more expansive feeling of being on the upper.

Contemplating his victory regarding sleeping in the cabin last night, he thought expansive might be a good term for how he was feeling this morning.

Pleased with the concession he’d won from his wife, although he was still damned frustrated.

No one”s fault but your own, your bloody temper and total cynicism regarding all women.

Bar one.

He had to concede Lady Verity Davencourt had proved herself unlike any other woman he”d known. She was, had been, as innocent as she looked. And even though she had calmly talked of ‘if he was to be her husband’ she hadn”t actually pursued him or even batted one of those silky eyelashes at him.

He”d done all the pursuing.

Was still pursuing. Couldn”t help himself.

At least he’d demolished one barrier last night. She”d allowed him to remain in the cabin, albeit he had to agree to sleep in the upper bunk.

What measure of a man had he become that such a concession on his wife”s part could make him so—happy?

Yes. Happy described exactly how he was feeling.

And hopeful, for there was definitely a chance he could redeem himself.

Sinner Wolfenden had never been accused by any woman of being inept.

That was until he’d done everything he’d vowed never to do for a woman.

Pursued. Compromised. Wed.

Then, he sabotaged everything he”d created—in the same moment, he came to the realization she was what he wanted more than anything else in his life.

That’s love, Sinner.

Rolling over with a groan of dismay, he buried his face in the pillow and wrapped his arms around his head.

It didn”t change the truth charging through his mind.

Nothing could. He just knew.

As he now believed in his wife’s knowing. After yesterday at the warehouse, he would not doubt her again.

His thoughts took him back to the music room at Pennington, facing down the sexiest little virago he”d ever encountered, and he recalled her words when he’d scathingly asked who had mentioned marriage?

‘Apparently—it”s written—in our stars.’ She’d said something further about ‘never questioning her angels,’ as if—they spoke with her—and she with them—regularly.

His wife was an extraordinary woman. She’d bewitched him alright, and damned if he wasn”t happy to be under her spell.

At least he would be when his own brand of magic finally drew her back where she belonged.

In his arms and in his bed, where he could work a few spells of his own.

With that thought still in mind, he hastened down from his bunk. Hopefully, his wife was awake and would appreciate the close view of his well-muscled calves as they climbed past her head on the pillow and the rest of his body clad only in his white linen smalls, the merest concession to modesty.

Which was probably doing nothing to conceal his morning cock stand.

They were husband and wife. He would make no further allowances for maidenly sensitivities.

A slight gasp from the lower bunk caused him to slow his descent. She was awake and looking. Good.

Dropping another rung to where he could peer beneath the top bunk and greet his wife, he met her wide-open eyes with what he hoped was a happy, innocent smile.

He could almost hear Nik’s derision.

Innocent? Sinner? You look about as innocent as the big bad wolf right before he made a delicious meal of Little Red Riding Hood.

The analogy was a little too apt and Sin cast it from his mind.

‘Good morning, my turquoise-eyed faerie witch,’ he said softly, watching with delight as she struggled to raise her gaze to his.

Clearly having a mind of their own, those stunning eyes were drawn to focus on a much lower detail of his anatomy.

Wolf that he undoubtedly was, he hung on the ladder and let her look. Perhaps he was not all wolf, for he knew if he had discerned fear in those eyes, he”d have swiftly descended and donned his trousers.

‘Good morning,’ she said, her voice husky, as if her throat was a little overheated.

‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked, knowing she”d been as restless as he, for he”d heard and felt her moving about as he lay wakeful above her.

‘Very well, thank you,’ she said primly and finally turned her head on the pillow to stare straight up at the slats above her head.

‘Liar,’ he said with a chuckle and lingered where he was long enough to see color crawl up her cheeks and her lips clench thinly as if she was biting back some cutting retort.

Dropping to the floor, he stretched his arms high above his head and arched his back. He normally had no trouble sleeping in the bunks in this cabin, but this morning, he actually felt as if he”d spent the night tossing and turning on a mattress stuffed with cannonballs.

‘Will you please—put—some clothes on?’

He”d swear the words were sieved through her teeth. At least he was having some effect on her. He could only hope it was the effect he wanted.

Because knowing she only wore a fine lawn night rail beneath that blanket was damned well affecting him.

Being the gentleman, being the considerate lover, was going to kill him.

Your own fault remember, Sinner, you arse.

He pulled on his shirt and trousers, opened the door and ordered the first man he saw to send Hawkeye with water for his wife’s wash and then settled into the chair at the table.

Dressed in one of her serviceable day gowns, Verity made her way down the ladder to the galley, aware that apart from the usual busy noise of the docks, the ship herself was quiet. There was only a handful of sailors on deck mending sails and splicing rope.

‘Mornin’, Nipper,’ said one with a cheeky grin.

‘Oi! That be Mr. Sin’s lady and don” ye be fergettin’ it,’ came the rough voice of another.

‘Oh aye. Mornin’ M’s Wolfenden,’ the first called after her as she headed down the ladder.

She”d offered the men a smile in passing but was too preoccupied with thoughts of her husband to pay them any further attention.

Mr Jay was the only occupant of the galley and he was lounging back in the corner seat with his boot heels resting on the tabletop. A mug of steaming black coffee sat on the table within easy reach, and he was deeply engrossed in a book.

His boots landed on the floor, and the book hit the tabletop with a slap, narrowly missing the mug of coffee when Verity wished him good morning.

‘Oh—m’Lady. Yer startled me.’

‘Must be a good book. What is it?’ Verity asked, openly trying to get a look at the cover. Then she looked up with a wide smile for the blushing man.

Blushing? Mr. Jay? And then she laughed. It was priceless.

‘You enjoy Lucas Wolfe adventures?’

‘I do. The man writes a good yarn,’ he said defensively.

‘And it gets a bit—heated—in places,’ she said with a quirk of an eyebrow as the big man colored even further.

Verity slid onto the stool on the opposite side of the table and picked up the book to study the cover.

‘This must be her latest book,’ she said contemplatively. ‘Did you know Lucas Wolfe is actually a woman?’

‘Now, m’Lady, that I don” believe. No woman could write tales o’ that caliber. There”s fightin’ an’ shootin’ an’—’

‘Passion,’ Verity finished for him. ‘I assure you. Lucas Wolfe is none other than Lady Lucy Wolfenden, Mr. Sin’s sister-in-law.’

‘Well, that”s ruined it,’ Mr Jay declared with disgust. ‘How c’n I go on readin’ now I knows as a woman wrote it?’

‘Does that change the power of the story? The intrigue? The adventure? The quest to turn the page and read more? What has changed?’

‘My mind ‘as changed,’ the chef growled. ‘I could picture a man experiencin’ th’ kind o’ things ‘e writes about, but not a woman. That”s jus’—wrong.’

‘Lucy can hold her own in a sword fight. In fact, I believe she actually saved her husband”s life in a skirmish in Belgium when they were on a mission to apprehend the last of Bonaparte’s financial backers.’

Mr. Jay”s eyes widened.

‘And she shot a man during that altercation, as well. So you see, she is not inexperienced in what she writes about.’

Mr. Jay picked the book up and studied the frontispiece engraving of a handsome cavalry officer riding after a beautiful woman whose flying cloak revealed she wore breeches and rode astride.

‘Does Mr. Sin know? About his sister-in-law?’

‘I don”t know. Although Lucy doesn”t hide behind her alias like she used to, she still tends to keep a low profile. A lot of people, most in fact, think as you do, that a woman has no business writing novels, let alone publishing them. I haven”t read this one. May I borrow it when you’re finished?’

Now, Mr. Jay sat up and glared at Verity, his crooked dark brows leaping with alarm.

‘T’is no book fer a young lady to be readin’. Young Nipper, mebbe, if ‘n ‘e could read. But Mr. Sin’s wife? It’d no’ be proper,’ he stated, snapping his mouth shut as if that was the end of the matter.

‘Mr Jay, Mr Jay,’ Verity chided the big man, ‘have you not been listening to me? Lady Lucy is one of my older sister”s best friends, and Lady Victoria, Lucy”s younger sister, is one of mine. Proficiency with sword and pistol—and even archery, is not rare among the ladies of our small village. More the norm actually. I don”t enjoy waving a sword about, but I am deadly with a pistol. I always have a pair on my person,’ she finished, patting the concealed pockets in the side seams of her gown.

Mr. Jay shook his head.

‘Should’a guessed yer were no ordinary gentry mort. But I still can” let yer read this ‘ere book,’ he said, placing his big broad hand over it on the table. ‘There”s—’

‘Sex—in—it,’ Verity finished for him. ‘Oh for heaven”s sake,’ she exploded suddenly. ‘Lucy wasn”t married when she wrote that book and all the ones that came before it. Though she is now. And I”m a married woman.’

Feeling the familiar frustration rise within her at the ignorance and bigotry of so many men, she was actually losing control of her temper.

‘Aye, yer a married woman as was ‘idin’ from ‘er ‘usband, dressed like a lad—an’ I’m wonderin’—‘

‘That will be enough, Jay.’

Her husband was suddenly standing at her elbow. She”d been so puffed up with rage at Mr Jay”s male pontificating she”d not even noticed Sin climb down the ladder.

The chef clambered to his feet.

‘Yes, Mr Sin.’

‘Verity, has Mr Jay upset you?’

‘Only in so much as he”s a man,’ she snapped, ‘with a man”s usual views about females.’

Sin cast a sudden apologetic grin at his chef, which only stoked her aggravation even more. Men were always so superior.

‘I asked to borrow the book after he”d finished with it,’ she said, indicating the tome now clutched in Mr. Jay”s beefy fingers. ‘He considers it unsuitable for a lady’s delicate sensibilities.’

Sin reached out a hand, and Mr Jay reluctantly placed the book in it.

Eyebrows rising high on his forehead, Sinclair regarded the burly chef with an amused smirk.

‘You realize this was written by a woman, Jay? A lady, in fact. My sister-in-law no less.’

‘So ‘er ladyship jus’ tol’ me,’ he admitted sulkily.

Sin handed the book back and leaned forward to clap Mr Jay on his big broad shoulder.

‘You will learn, as I’m having to, Jay, there is more to the ladies of Stannesford, an insignificant little village in Oxfordshire, than pretty embroidery over afternoon tea. Is that not so, my dear?’

‘I thought you were going ashore with Captain Nik,’ she said, avoiding his question, yet still managing to sound much like a sulky child.

Was it only yesterday he”d been lecturing her about using her pistols, and now he was preaching to Mr Jay like an arrant sinner who”d been instantly converted by a soapbox preacher?

She suspected he thought to cozen her into relenting with regard to the intimacy of their marriage if he paid lip service to the equality of women with the male of the species.

She was not so easily beguiled.

Verity moved behind the bench and poured herself a cup of the tar-black coffee and sweetened it with a spoonful of treacle.

‘Do you want a cup?’ she asked her husband and helped herself to one of Mr. Jay”s sweet buns.

‘No, thank you. Nik and I are about to head off to the warehouses. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?

‘No, thank you.’ She was determined not to intrude on Sin’s morning with Nik. Their friendship with each other was too important to each of them. ‘I have the intention of making pancakes for luncheon—in case you thought to dine elsewhere.’

She couldn’t keep the little smirk off her face when he groaned and closed his eyes for a moment.

‘We will be here, wife,’ he declared with throaty appreciation, but he didn’t leave.

‘Was there something else?’ she inquired, stirring the treacle vigorously into her coffee. Even so, she knew it would be barely palatable, but it gave her something to focus on other than the disconcerting temptation of the man before her.

They were wed; therefore, he was hers to touch. No man had really ever tempted her before Sinclair Wolfenden. But something about the ordered, meticulous waves of his dark hair that not even a tempest seemed to ruffle called to her restless fingers. As did the way his thick eyelashes lay on his weather-tanned cheeks when he closed his eyes. She wanted to stroke them, know if they were as soft as her paintbrushes. And then test, with fingertips and lips, the wicked dimple that did little to soften the raw masculinity of his squared chin and jaw.

He wouldn”t stop her, of that she was sure, but he would expect more.

He didn’t respond until she could no longer stand the silence and looked up to find him watching her, laughter dancing in his smoky grey eyes as if he was privy to every one of her thoughts.

‘Nik says there”s a flower market a bit further along the canal, selling tulips and irises and other bulb flowers. Not just the flowers but also the bulbs. I thought you might be interested.’

‘Bulbs? I should love to visit that,’ she said, feeling all the antipathy and whatever else she”d been feeling towards her husband melt away in the sudden vision of beds of tulips softening the dark and ancient severity of Stanford Hall.

Apparently, her delight pleased him, for after telling her he would come for her later in the afternoon, he came around the bench, and to her blushing confusion, he tipped her chin up and kissed her full on the lips.

With a jaunty salute to Mr. Jay, who was staring like a stupefied cat, he vanished up the ladder, the fading tap of his boot heels on the deck accompanied by a tuneless whistle.

Verity brought her coffee and bun to the table and launched into a bright discussion of what she might bake while she waited for her husband to return. Mr Jay had looked as if he”d been going to comment on Sinclair’s actions—or worse, ask questions.

She wasn”t even ready to address any of that in her own mind, let alone with anyone else.

So Verity spent the rest of the morning making two huge plain fruitcakes that Mr Jay assured her would send the men into raptures and then made pancakes to feed those who filtered down the ladder seeking a noonday meal.

‘Aw, my lady,’ Crabby said, after his third dripping with treacle, ‘I hope you convince Mr. Sin to allow you to sail with us more often. I”ve never tasted a pancake better nor this.’

He patted his belly and leaned back against the wall behind the long stool and sighed with deep satisfaction.

Verity almost swooned. She”d always loved to cook, and nothing was more contenting than a man with an expression of complete bliss after eating something she’d made.

Carefully lifting out another, she added it to the stack keeping warm in the oven and poured another measure of batter into the heavy black cast iron pan. Watching it spread, it occurred to her that now she was a married woman, she was mistress of her own kitchen and need not sneak about or hide in order to indulge her unladylike passion for baking.

She”d admitted to the pancakes at home because friends and family all adored them and considered it Verity’s endearing little hobby. They were happy to indulge because no one else could make pancakes like she did. That more often than not the scones, ginger gems, currant buns, lemon tarts and many other baked delicacies they devoured with innocent appreciation had been made by Verity”s hand, was a secret the kitchen staff happily kept for her.

No more secrets. If she wanted to bake in her own kitchen, she would.

Two of the men helped Hawkeye clean up and Verity sat and talked recipes with Mr. Jay until suddenly the big man slapped his hand on the table as if to rise.

‘Mr Sin’ll be back soon, and m’lady will look like a frazzled kitchen maid at the crock-end of the day. Best yer goes up and turns yerself back into a lady as Mr Sin won”t be embarrassed to squire about.’

‘Sage advice—again, Mr Jay. Please keep that last plate of pancakes for Mr Sin and the Captain,’ Verity said with a grateful smile and hurried above to get ready to walk out on the arm of her husband.

Feeling inordinately pleased with the negotiations for fresh cargo, Sin stepped back onto the ship with a sense that all was moving in the direction he wanted.

They had a full manifest. All that prevented them lifting anchor this very night was the time it would take to get it all stowed away in the hold. Gratified to see the men already hauling aboard the bales of fine woven woolen goods and lace, he turned to Nik who had followed him aboard.

‘I swear I smell pancakes,’ he said moving towards the galley hatch, Nik hard on his heels.

‘Where’s my wife, Jay?’

‘Jus’ gone up ter get ready ter go ter the flower market as yer promised ‘er, Mr. Sin.’

‘Excellent. And do I smell pancakes?’

‘Aye, Mr. Sin, yer does. Yer lady-wife said as ‘ow she’d make ‘em, an’ she did.’

‘There’d better be some left for us,’ Sin began to growl and Mr. Jay turned to the oven with a chuckle. ‘There was threats made if these ‘ere weren’t saved fer yer, sir.’

With a flourish, the chef placed the plate of still-warm pancakes on the table between Nik and Sin and returned with clotted cream and damson conserve.

Even Nik groaned and lifted a pancake onto the tin plate in front of him and loaded it with jam and cream.

‘They’re better’n my griddle cakes,’ Mr. Jay averred.

‘I never had any complaints about yours, but these? What does she do different?’ Sin asked.

Mr. Jay tilted his head to one side, the gold hoop earring in his ear nestling into the crook of his leathery neck, while he considered Sin’s question.

At last he straightened up and began to return to the galley. Looking back over his shoulder with a wink, he said, ‘I reck’n it be th’ pinch o’ fairy dust she sprinkled in th’ mixture. Right magical it be.’

Sin laughed outright, but Nik snorted in derision.

‘Clearly, the woman has addled both your brains. Got you both under her spell. My guess would be eye of newt and toe of frog. But whatever she puts in them, I have to admit they’re good,’ he finished with obvious reluctance.

‘Her magic is insidious,’ Sin said with a sideways grin for his surly friend. ‘What”s for dinner, Jay?’

‘Well, I been ashore and got us some fresh brisket, Mr Sin. And we”ll ‘ave it wi’ creamed neeps, barley cakes ‘n’ gravy.’

‘Have you got time to do something special?’

‘Yer got fences ter mend, Mr. Sin?’

Sin gave his chef a sheepish grin.

‘You know me too well, my friend.’

‘So what are yer thinkin’?’

‘A candlelit dinner in the cabin. I”m taking my wife to the flower market. How long do you need to set up something nice? With candles.’ Sin knew Nik was all but rolling his eyes at his side but decided to ignore him. ‘I’ll bring flowers from the market.’

‘Strikes me,’ Mr. Jay said thoughtfully, picking at a small blob of fat on the bench top, ‘that ‘er ladyship might be more moved by—genu-wine feelin’s an’ sincerity than fancy trappin’s an’ such.’

Sin let his breath out on a small sigh. Apart from Nik, Jay was the only other person aboard the ship who would dare to offer advice so close to criticism.

‘Happen, you’re right,’ he muttered, no less surprised at his response than the man watching him from across the galley bench. ‘But let”s start with flowers and a candlelit dinner. Get the watch to let you know when we arrive back at the dock. That should give you enough time to light the candles so all is set when we arrive in the cabin. I”ll hire a hack after we”ve been to the market and take her driving through the city. Will two hours be long enough?’

‘’Er ladyship’ll think she”s entered a lovers bow-wer,’ he promised with a wink.

Sin rolled his eyes.

‘No need to get carried away.’

‘You jus’ leave it all ter me,’ Mr. Jay advised with a heavy hand on Sin’s shoulder. ‘Yer goes sweet talk yer wife. I”m thinking yer ain”t done much o’ that. Ever in yer life. Ladies like the sweet stuff, yer know?’

Not daring to glance back at Nik, Sin shook his head, and climbed back up the ladder.

When he entered the cabin after a brief knock and calling out that it was himself, he almost forgot to close the door behind him. His faerie torment was struggling furiously to close the row of buttons up the back of her gown. She’d managed the lower ones, but from the waist up, the lilac silk gaped, framing creamy white shoulders rising above the sheer lawn chemise and the corset he’d laced for her that morning.

He would have to take himself in hand on a regular basis if he was going to have to continue standing in for her maid.

That, or lose the battle against throwing her down on the bed and compounding the damage he”d already done.

Reminding himself he was not a young man who’d yet to learn how to control himself, he closed the door and crossed the deck to his wife.

‘You seem to be in some difficulty, my love.’

She glanced over her shoulder, her face red with her efforts and her mouth tight with frustration.

‘Why does fashion dictate gowns must be closed down the back? It’s total foolishness. How do women manage who have no maids?’

Her speech was jerky, the words punctuating her furious attempts to tug on the delicate fabric.

Sin covered her hands with his and held them still.

‘Let me, love,’ he said, and before he could think better of it, dipped his head and pressed his lips to the silky curve between neck and shoulder. Verity froze under his touch, a kittenish mewling sound escaping her throat.

Sin stretched forward, wanting to taste the hollow at the base of her throat he knew would be even more sensitive. To his rakish delight, she tilted her head back a little, which he took as a definite sign of encouragement.

‘I want to take this gown off, not button it up,’ he murmured, then nibbled and licked at her earlobe.

‘Oh, that tickles,’ she said with a half gasp, half giggle and stepped away from him. ‘The buttons, please,’ she demanded. ‘You promised me a flower market.’

‘More fool me,’ Sin said with a sigh and made short work of fastening the rest of the buttons.

He couldn”t resist, however, placing one lingering kiss at the base of her neck, where it flowed into her spine.

‘Your skin is soft and downy like an apricot,’ he told her as he assisted her to don a grape colored velvet pelisse and matching bonnet.

With the ribbons tied, she clutched the pelisse at her neck and raised serious turquoise eyes to his. He was learning when she wanted to say something of a serious nature, her eyes that were usually a clear aquamarine, darkened to the denser hue of blue-green turquoise.

He rarely liked what she had to say when she regarded him in this way. And he didn”t now.

‘Sinclair, you don”t have to pretend,’ she said solemnly. ‘I know and accept that marriage was not your agenda when you sought me out at Pennington. You don”t have to try and convince me otherwise. I do not appreciate the consequences of my determination to make this a real marriage when you clearly did not want it to be. That is not going to be us, but I do hope we can at least be amicable when we are in one another”s company. And for the rest? Suffice to say, I shall be happy to return to St James”s Square and indulge myself with redecorating and perhaps finding my place in London society. That way you need not concern yourself about me and can return to your seafaring existence with Captain Nik. Meantime, I think it might be better if I borrowed your valet to help me dress.’

‘Saju? Help you dress?’

Sin tried to imagine his proper Indian valet”s response to that suggestion and almost choked.

‘He”d only have to tie my corset strings and close the back of my gowns. It would all be entirely proper.’

‘No,’ Sin said flatly and held up a hand to silence her when she would have continued to argue. ‘I am only saying what Saju would say for himself if such an infamous suggestion was made to him.’

‘Infamous?’

His wife looked ready to argue vigorously.

‘I assure you, Saju would likely prefer to cut off his hand than place himself in such an intimate situation with his employer’s wife. Or possibly with any woman.’

Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

‘So you see, my dear,’ he said, tipping her chin up with one finger, ‘that leaves me. And contrary to what you may think, I find myself strangely enamored of the wedded state and I”m determined ours will be a real marriage. I will touch you. I will kiss you. I will not accept my crass despoiling of your innocence caused an irreversible breach between us. Want to know why?’ he asked softly, lowering his mouth closer to hers. ‘Because of this.’

She hadn”t moved even a fraction of an inch to dislodge his finger from beneath her chin. Her lips were parted, waiting for him to taste and didn”t even close against his marauding tongue.

His knees almost buckled at the taste of her unique Verity with a hint of coffee and treacle. Her scent enveloped him, honeysuckle and something else, a whisper of rose perhaps, and his senses were awash in her.

Kissing his way down under her chin, he worshipped the tender place beneath her jaw, the soft hollow at the base of her throat, the cleft enticing him down into the valley between her breasts.

He nuzzled deeply into the soft mound of flesh rising above the edge of her bodice, and suddenly, her hands were clasped about his head, trying to dislodge him.

‘You—we—won”t—’

She struggled to make sense and he understood. He”d likely make little sense himself. Lifting his head and fighting to settle his racing heart, he watched the color ebb and flow in her cheeks, a tangle of emotions flash through her eyes.

‘No,’ he agreed gently, ‘we won”t.’

His words settled her, but he’d not allow her to hold a false belief.

‘But we will,’ he promised and stepped back in case she was moved to hit him again.

Not giving her time to revisit her carefully thought-out argument, he took her arm and guided her towards the door.

‘The flower market awaits us, and I accept your challenge to be at least amicable. Will you do the same?’

Snatching her reticule from the table, she clamped her mouth shut and allowed him to lead her out of the cabin.