Chapter Twenty-Three
A nna knew herself well. As possible marriage alliances never materialised, her practical side had assumed command. As the years marched on, she’d accepted the reality of her single state.
Everything had changed with that knock on her door, and the first sight of this man who was now her husband. Always a quick assessor of people, she saw distraction, misery and worry, coupled with the most exhaustion she had ever seen in a person. It almost seemed to seep out of his pores.
She recognised that exhaustion, because her brother Will had brought it home with him after every voyage. She’d quickly learned to help Will out of his cloak and offer food, which he always ate like a starving man, with glances of apology at her.
At first, Will used to think he needed to go with her to the sitting room and talk about his latest voyage, whether it be to the distant Azores, the feverish Caribbean or, in more recent years, to the tedious, mind-numbing blockade of Spain and France.
She remembered the night she had been making some comment, then looked over at her brother sitting beside her to see a man sound asleep.
She had wakened him gently, told him to go to bed and, for heaven’s sake, sleep around the clock.
After that, his return from duty never bothered them, because they knew what he needed most.
This was different. She was now married to Captain John Beattie, an association so intimate and unexpected that even now, seeing him standing there by that amusing bed, she wanted to push him down and command him to go to sleep, that this would certainly keep until they knew each other a little better.
But she was no fool. Anna also saw a man with desire in his eyes. She knew little about such longing, but some instinct told her that John Beattie needed her right now. Yet his own hesitation had opened a small window on the dilemma she thought he struggled with.
How to play this hand? She could think of nothing but plain speaking, even though it would probably toss both of them into great chasms of embarrassment.
She saw him frowning at her. Come on, Anna, say the right thing , she told herself. There is a man’s dignity at stake .
She sat down on the funny bed and patted the space beside her. She took his hand and rested it against her thigh. She turned slightly to look into his eyes. Ah, yes, the exhaustion. And more. She addressed the more.
‘I believe, dear man, that you’re wondering what we just did in marrying so hastily.’ There. That was a simple start.
Better and better. She let herself breathe a little when he smiled and shook his head.
‘Madam wife, I believe you might be the smartest person in this room,’ he said, which made her laugh.
She nodded. ‘If it’s any consolation, it takes a smart person to see that.’
That brought another genuine smile to his face. Goodness, but he was a handsome man when he smiled. Lucky me , she thought. Onward, Anna .
‘I did you a huge service by solving your problem so conveniently, didn’t I?’ she asked.
‘Aye, you did. I will be forever in your debt,’ he told her, then looked away. ‘I ruined you in society’s eyes, and gave you no choice but to marry me.’
‘John, don’t be too determined to make me better than I am,’ she said, warming to the issue. ‘You’re a man of honour and you had no choice in the matter, either.’
He seemed to think about that, which to her delight meant a comradely arm around her shoulder.
It didn’t feel like a lover’s grasp, but she relished the friendliness of the gesture.
Maybe it was a small building block from which to create an actual marriage, if they had the time, in this time of war, to proceed slowly.
‘You’re right, oh, Anna the Wise. You are an amazing lady. I’m wondering at my good fortune, even as I feel a little ashamed to have brought you to this. I had no choice but to marry you, and you had no choice but to accept.’
Somehow, she wasn’t entirely surprised when he added, ‘Pardon my frankness, Anna, but it has been a long time since I experienced the pleasures of the bedchamber.’ He sighed. ‘Does that make me a complete ogre?’
‘Not at all,’ she assured him, and felt something that might have sent her into maidenly blushes only minutes ago: they might even understand each other. ‘Captain Beattie, why is it that men think they are the only creatures on the earth with such feelings?’
‘Well, I… Hmm.’
‘Captain, I am nearly thirty. Thirty! Frankly, sir, I never thought I would know what it feels like to be married. It made me sad to think I would go to my grave untouched.’
He gave her a long look. ‘Anna Beattie, you’re blushing.’
She dared to lean forward and kiss his cheek. ‘So are you.’
He tightened his grip on her. ‘Now that we are speaking so frankly, there’s one other matter,’ he said softly. ‘You know I had another wife. There might always be a part of me that misses her.’
‘I can understand that,’ Anna said slowly. ‘She was your first love, and the mother of your son.’ And you still love her , she thought, waiting for the knowledge to hurt. To her relief, it did not. Again, that practical side of her nature understood.
‘Would you…would you mind if I talked about her now and then, or told Allan about his mother?’
She heard the earnest note in his words and knew she couldn’t deny him that request, nor would she want to.
‘Mind? Never.’
There they sat. The mattress did feel good, and the last few days had been trying in the extreme.
She patted his hand. ‘John, I’m tired, and if I am tired, you must be exhausted.
Unbutton my back buttons. I already know you’re a handy sort to have around.
I’m going to find my nightgown—actually it’s Grace’s. ’
‘You’re serious?’
‘Yes. Everything else is practical flannel because I have lived in chilly, draughty Plymouth for some years. Apparently, Grace has a past I did not question.’
‘You’re amusing,’ he said as he got up. She heard the relief in his voice. ‘Turn around. I am a button expert, as you know.’
He was. She felt not a qualm in the universe about stripping right there and putting on said nightgown— Watch if you want, husband , she thought a little wickedly, then crawled into the wonderful bed. ‘Do you have a preferred side?’
‘By the door,’ he said. ‘Get in, madam wife, and move over.’
Anna did. He joined her, stretching out, yawning hugely, then speaking softly but with a certain contentment that touched her heart. ‘Mrs Beattie, I remember I was five days after Trafalgar standing up, ordering my crew about, making decisions, second-guessing myself and worrying—always worrying.’
‘I am happy not to be a captain,’ she told him. ‘That would make me grouchy.’
He chuckled. ‘I was a bear!’ He yawned again, then touched her shoulder. ‘I’ll be asleep in minutes, but you are right: I need you.’
‘I’ll be here when you’re ready,’ she told him gently. ‘We are both practical sorts, are we not? War has robbed us of time and leisure. We are both on an uncertain path.’
‘Aye, we are,’ he said, and was silent. In mere moments she heard his even breathing.
She slept then, too, feeling herself relax and nearly melt into the mattress.
She was warm from John’s warmth. This body next to hers was not a captain with a fearsome reputation, but a man next to a woman.
There was nothing new about this in the great scheme of the universe, but it was new to her, and it excited her.
The warmth of a grown body next to hers was soothing and even soft. She felt herself sinking into the mattress. True, the bed moved from side to side, but what of it? My, but these last few weeks had been exhausting.
She didn’t know how long they slept against each other, but some time as morning approached, she woke to his hand on her back, rubbing it gently.
Now he needs me , she thought, not John Beattie perhaps, but a man living under a mountain of unrelenting warfare and stress she could not even imagine, and she had a good imagination.
She sighed when his hand cupped her breast, then smiled when he seemed to weigh it in his grasp, and whispered, ‘I do like a substantial handful.’
He caressed her breast, then turned her on her back and rolled on top of her.
This was new and strange, but she did not feel shy. ‘What do I do?’ she whispered back.
‘Whatever you feel like,’ he said. ‘I know my business, madam wife. Relax and trust me.’
At a time like this? To her delight, she discovered she did trust him. She let herself relax and enjoyed the feel of his kisses and caresses, which meant his entry was simple and easier than she would have thought. Perhaps she was more ready for this than she’d imagined.
He began a gentle rhythm, which increased in tempo when she abandoned every caution to the wind and added her rhythm to his.
She thought her legs might be better across his back, which made him mutter something that sounded like, ‘Good instincts,’ which, under any other circumstance, would have made her laugh.
She felt his excitement mount, then fill her.
He groaned but kept his lips between her breasts to muffle himself.
She caressed his back, savouring the peace that came as his heartbeat slowed until it matched hers.
He kissed her ear and whispered, ‘You are legally my wife now.’ Again, that low laugh, and another whisper, ‘Next time, I promise I’ll return the favour. ’
He cuddled her close, then relaxed in sleep.
She didn’t think he was worn out from the actual exertion, which had certainly roused every nerve in her body.
She ran her hand lightly over the contours of his face and saw a man of war, an anxious father and a grieving widower lying there without a care, for once.
I did that , she thought. The notion humbled her.
She knew this was a rare opportunity to personally assess this man she had married. She had him to herself, this handsome fellow with reddish-blondish hair, a straight nose, the thin lips of a Scot and his own freckles here and there.
She enjoyed watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, deeply aware now how fast a man’s heart could beat when he was intent upon a woman. My heart, too , she thought. Goodness .
It was almost light in his quarters when she woke to John kissing her bare shoulder. She rolled over and looked into warm, appreciative male eyes.
‘It’s your turn,’ he said, and she knew precisely what he meant. She gave herself over to him entirely, abandoning herself completely: no war, no worries, no what-to-do-with-the-children, no conscious thought except his pleasure—and now hers as well.
When she cried out, he put a gentle hand over her mouth. ‘Shh, shh. It’s a small ship. Can’t have my crew too envious.’
‘I had no idea. I would urge you even deeper, if I thought I could.’
‘You can’t,’ he replied practically, because he was John Beattie. ‘This is as close as anyone gets, ever.’
‘I like it.’
‘Thought you might.’ She felt his chuckle. ‘Anna Beattie, if I show up on deck—and I must, soon—I should make sure I’m not smiling too widely. They’ll throw me overboard for shark bait, otherwise.’
What an odd time to get the giggles. When he rose up a little so she could breathe, she asked, ever practical, ‘Has anyone else in the world ever had this much fun?’
‘Countless millions,’ he replied, ‘but right now, only us.’
He got up then, carefully balancing on the deck. She watched as he seemed to feel the motion with his feet. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘We’re nearly to Gibraltar. The current changes. Up you get, madam wife. There’s something else we have to do after we tidy up a bit.’
Easier said than done, especially since her man thought she needed his help with the washcloth. ‘Mrs Beattie, you’re a menace to rational thought,’ he said finally. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me to put my clothes on now.’
‘You’ll look more professional on deck if you do.’
He got as far as his smallclothes, then pulled her down onto the sleeping platform again, this time with Admiral Collingwood’s letter in hand, the ‘something new’ of the wedding. He waved it around.
‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘I can’t ignore orders.’ He cracked the seal. He held it a little away to read. ‘My God, Anna,’ he said finally. ‘My God.’
Her first instinct was fear, which faded quickly. She heard only awe in his voice.
‘What?’ she asked, hoping she sounded calm. She knew the Navy was a hard life and they were at war. She and the children had nowhere to live while he continued in the Mediterranean, as he already knew would be his lot. ‘ What? ’
‘The kindest thing imaginable,’ he said. She heard the emotion. ‘Anna, our dear Admiral wants to loan us his house on Menorca. I… I…thought it was only rumour that he had a house there.’
Had she even heard him right?
‘He…he has a house ?’ She looked at her husband, who seemed to be having trouble drawing a decent breath.
It brought home forcefully to her the agony of men condemned to the sea during war, iron men in wooden ships who yearned for the comforts of home and family, like normal beings. ‘Breathe,’ she whispered. ‘In and out.’
‘We’ve been doing the in-and-out,’ he teased, which relieved her, because his ribald Navy humour hadn’t deserted him. He held his orders closer to her. ‘Right there, third paragraph.’
She read silently, then gasped and read it out loud, the better to believe it.
‘ And tell your lovely wife that she and the children have my permission to take up residence in my little place. I’ll take you there myself when you return from Gibraltar.
Move your return along smartly, too. I need you and the Swallow patrolling. ’
She put down the letter and nestled closer. ‘Did you have any inkling of this?’
‘Collingwood had mentioned Menorca was a possibility. I was hoping to find quarters in Gibraltar for you and maybe see you and the little ones occasionally.’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘I know the Admiral wishes his wife and daughters could come to him. The Admiralty has decreed him too valuable to be anywhere but watching the French.’ He tapped the letter.
‘Now he is helping us.’ He lay back and stared at the ceiling.
‘The very idea of sailing into Port Mahon and finding you there… I never imagined staying in his house!’