Chapter 21
They were married.
I am now Lady Jeremy Tremaine.
Seated at her aunt and uncle’s breakfast table, while her rambunctious family filled the room with laughter and discourse and servants served slices of the bride cake, Linnie sat contentedly beside her husband.
My husband.
Lady Jeremy Tremaine.
Dreamily, Linnie repeated that name over and over in her mind.
All she’d ever wanted was to carry the name Lady Jeremy Tremaine.
He was all she’d ever wanted.
Yes, he was all she’d ever wanted in life.
She freely watched her husband at her side. He continued to lean around his brother, the duke, who was seated next to him, and converse with Linnie’s younger—now quarreling—siblings, Andromena and Oleander.
“It’s not true, Oleander!” Andromena wagged her fork menacingly their brother’s way.
Oleander puffed his slender chest out. “Won’t do any such thing. Everyone knows girls can’t be pirates, sailors, or privateers.”
“You take that back!” she cried. “You take that back right now.”
The young boy released the beleaguered sigh of men thirty years his senior. “Captain Tremaine, will you please tell her that a future at sea is not for the faint of heart?”
“Faint of heart,” Linnie snarled. “This from the boy who fainted when Roberta the Bruce was giving birth.”
“Who is Robert the Bruce?” Jeremy asked the twins.
The quarreling brother and sister ignored him.
Jeremy cast a confused look at Linnie.
“Papa’s mare,” she whispered in explanation.
“Is named . . .”
“Roberta the Bruce,” Linnie finished for him. She nodded. “Yes. The Smith sisters were permitted naming rights.”
Jeremy tossed his head back and laughed.
Her breath caught. Color filled the bold slashes of his angular cheekbones. Crinkles of amusement creased the corners of his glittering eyes. His mirth proved contagious, and her own amusement bubbled up and joined with it.
How she’d missed seeing him like this. Seeing him . . . lighthearted and ebullient.
Everything in this moment—how he smiled, how he laughed, how he entertained her siblings and conversed with the grown McQuoid-Smiths throughout—harkened back to the way it used to be.
Those happier times before Arran betrayed him and a feud was born between the onetime best friends.
She could almost believe all was as it’d once been.
Alas, as was customary for a McQuoid-Smith gathering, bickering kin ended the moment all too quickly.
“The reason he did not tell you, Andromena, is because Captain Tremaine knows the sea is not for the . . .” Andromena folded her arms pointedly and Oleander blushed. “The fairer sex,” he substituted this time.
Linnie’s younger brother looked for backup. “Isn’t that right, Tremaine?”
Three gazes swung to Jeremy for validation or denial—or in Linnie’s case, a clue as to how Jeremy intended to emerge from this one without defecting support of at least one Smith sibling.
“Good luck on this one, husband,” she said mutedly. “There’s no getting out without upsetting one of my hotheaded siblings.”
“Ah, love. It’s like you do not even know me.” Jeremy gave her nose a playful tweak.
Her smile deepened. “The floor is yours, dear husband.”
Collecting his champagne flute, Jeremy cradled the glass and sat back in his chair. “I am almost afraid to confess, Andromena, that as a young lad and young man, I developed a like opinion as Master Oleander.”
Linnie’s brother popped up in his seat. “Aha!”
Linnie’s sister, on the other hand, wore disappointment in her face and a warning in her eyes.
“There, it is settled,” Oleander crowed.
“That is,” Jeremy went on, ending the boy’s all-too-brief triumph, “until one of my sailors, a fellow by the name of Crabbe, shared the history of his late ancestors who’d started the family in a career of piracy.”
He’d managed to put a stop to the children’s fighting, and now both Oleander and Andromena hung on every word to leave Jeremy’s mouth.
He paused to take a sip of his champagne, and Linnie didn’t believe that brief cessation was anything but an attempt to lure his listeners in more deeply.
His efforts had the intended effect.
Andromena scooted her chair closer to the master storyteller before them. “Go on, Tremaine,” she urged.
“Yes,” Oleander jumped in. “Tell us more.”
Continuing to draw out the anticipation, Jeremy set his drink aside. Then, leaning closer to the brother-sister pair, he spoke in lower tones. “My man’s great-grandfather, Old John Crabbe, served alongside none other than Captain Calico Jack.”
Oleander’s eyes went full circle. “Tare an’ hounds.”
“Thunder an’ turf,” Andromena whispered.
Just like that, he had a captive audience in all of them. Even the McQuoid-Smiths on either side of Linnie and her youngest siblings craned their attention Jeremy’s way and began listening.
“One thing all men of the sea know, the same way a captain has a figurehead of a naked woman carved into the bow of the ship to calm the seas—”
“Is the same way a ship can’t have a living woman aboard a ship, not without bringing bad luck,” the Marquess of Winfield contributed.
Jeremy pointed at the other captain. “Precisely.”
Cousin Quillon snickered. “Given that Cassia sneaked onto Winfield’s ship and saw his crew caught and nearly killed in a battle at sea, I believe we can all agree there’s truth in that.”
And if it hadn’t been for Jeremy’s sudden arrival, Cassia and the Marquess of Winfield wouldn’t be here even now.
The boy’s twin sister nudged him with an elbow in the side.
“Ouch.” He glared.
Linnie’s focus drifted from the latest McQuoid arguers. Jeremy had risked his life and livelihood, and how had the McQuoid-Smiths and Lord Winfield rewarded his heroics that day? By turning their backs on him.
Jeremy gave her a concerned look.
At some point, she’d caught his forearm in a death grip.
“Are you all right, love?” he mouthed.
She forced herself to relax her fingers. Linnie didn’t want the treachery that’d nearly driven him from her family’s fold forever to darken this day—not for herself, but more importantly, not for him.
“Y-yes,” she lied with a smile.
He probed her more closely before diverting his attention back to the rapidly escalating melee.
At last, Jeremy quieted the quarrelers, and now all the room’s attention fell to Linnie’s husband.
“A long, long time ago, Crabbe’s ancestor took on a mission with Calico Jack, when the crew learned Captain Jack had brought aboard none other than his, uh . . .” A charming flush filled Jeremy’s neck and climbed to his cheeks.
“Yes?” Cousin Fleur asked, sitting forward in her chair.
“Sweetheart,” Lord Winfield helpfully supplied.
Jeremy pointed a finger in the other man’s direction. “Precisely that. Calico Jack’s sweetheart. Her name was Anne Bonny, and he brought her aboard to join his crew.”
To be that lucky. To sail the world at Jeremy’s side . . . Why couldn’t they? They were wed and happily. He loved the sea; she longed to witness the ocean’s splendor for herself.
“At one point,” Jeremy went on, warmed to his telling, “the men took exception to the lady being aboard.”
Jeremy’s friend, Beaton, who’d officiated, unnecessarily elucidated, “With women bringing bad luck to a ship and all.” He winked his support in Oleander’s direction.
Andromena stuck her tongue out at Mr. Beaton.
“With my pilot’s opinion here, Mr. Beaton would have found himself at the end of Anne Bonny’s displeasure,” Jeremy said, successfully defusing the girl’s outrage. “For when one of Calico Jack’s crew expressed a similar sentiment to the valiant woman, she repaid his small thinking by stabbing him.”
Linnie’s mother wilted in her chair.
The rest of the McQuoid-Smith women—with the lone exception of the countess—laughed and cheered their approval.
Jeremy grinned and took Linnie’s hand, raising it to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Your family is a bloodthirsty lot.”
She gave a teasing waggle of her eyebrows. “Can you imagine all of us aboard Captain Calico Jack’s?”
He gave a mock shudder. “The very idea would strike to the heart of even the most ruthless pirate.”
“Such as you, husband?” she rejoined.
Linnie instantly wanted to recall her words.
His expression froze.
Before she could issue an apology for having offended him, Cousin Quillon called for Jeremy’s attention. “That is but one female pirate of countless many more men. I would say that makes her the exception, rather than the rule, Captain Tremaine.”
“Grace O’Malley,” Lord Winfield answered.
“Jeanne de Clisson,” Jeremy followed up. “And Joanna of Flanders.” He shot his friend a wry look. “Come, with all your years at sea, you cannot think of even one lady pirate or privateer?”
The Duke of Hartwell called down, “Mary Wolverston. Come, even a nonseafaring fellow like myself can list one.”
A more reluctant Mr. Beaton squirmed in his chair. “The Pirate Queen of the Mediterranean,” he groused. “Sayyida al Hurra.”
Cousin Cassia waved excitedly. “Ooh, ooh, one mustn’t forget Charlotte de Berry, who fell in love with a sailor, and after they married, she disguised herself as a man so she might fight alongside his crew.”
Jeremy favored the marchioness with a smile. “Brava on your pirate history, my lady.”
And deuced if Linnie didn’t feel a vicious stab of envy at the approval her husband bestowed upon her prettier cousin.
Mr. Beaton pounced on that. “The marchioness has conveniently left out the fact that after a crew member discovered the woman’s identity, they killed her sailor husband, and she had to flee for her life.”
Cassia’s eyes watered and she sniffed. “I d-do so h-hate how that story ends, Mr. Beaton.” Turning her head into her husband’s shoulder, she wept softly.
Lord Winfield made soothing sounds. All the while he stroked the top of his marchioness’s head, he glared down the length of the table at Jeremy’s pilot.
With a grin, the handsome gentleman removed a white embroidered kerchief from his pocket and waved the material in truce.
“Let us not lose sight of the fact,” Jeremy said, steering them right back to the original source of the discussion, “of your earlier assertion about the fair-hearted, Master Oleander. History gives us far more stories of sailors and captains who’ve perished at sea while their wives and lady counterparts went on to live storied and successful careers. ”
Andromena squealed, and flying from her seat, she launched a hug at Jeremy. “You are now my most favorite McQuoid-Smith, and Linnie because she married you, of course.”
Even as that artlessness melted Linnie’s heart, she caught the inside of her cheek between her teeth. Jeremy would utterly despise being referred to as a McQuoid. Andromena had unknowingly ended the fragile happiness at the . . .
Jeremy returned the little girl’s sideways hug. “As I do not wish to offend the very many lovely McQuoid-Smith ladies,” he whispered loudly, “allow me to say I feel the same about you, Miss Smith.” His eyes twinkled. “That is, with the exception of your elder sister, and now my wife.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Jeremy!” Andromena smartly saluted him and returned to her seat.
At the tender exchange between her bridegroom and sister, Linnie fell in love with Jeremy all over again and even more.
The breakfast continued in a flurry, with someone coming to collect the Duke of Hartwell and Mr. Beaton for business.
Linnie and Jeremy looked up in concern, but both men waved them off. Making their excuses, they left.
All too soon, the happy affair concluded, with everyone collectively standing and making their well-wishes to Linnie and Jeremy’s union.
As the rest of her family filtered out, she and Jeremy conversed with a beaming Meghan.
“I daresay I’ve never seen my sister so happy, Captain Tremaine,” Meghan gushed, hugging Linnie’s arm. Her eyes sparkled in a way Linnie couldn’t ever remember. “And if I may confess something?”
“You may count on my confidence.” He inclined his head so gallantly, so charmingly to her sister, Linnie’s throat worked.
With his war with Arran, it would be so easy for him to treat any of Linnie’s kin with unkindness. Instead, he was the model of goodness to Meghan and Oleander and Andromena and Winfield and everyone.
“I stumbled upon you and Linnie at the market.”
Jeremy’s features froze, and he quickly masked his surprise behind a charming smile. “Did you?”
Meghan brought her shoulders back. “And I helped you both evade capture.”
Jeremy whistled softly. “You don’t say?”
Linnie nodded. “It is, in fact, true, dear husband. We have Meghan to thank for our stolen interlude that day.”
He bowed his head. “Well, consider me forever in your—” Jeremy looked up mid-exchange and the smile froze on his face.
Linnie and Meghan followed his stare over to his brother, who’d returned.
During the revelries, the duke had oozed charm and goodwill. No longer. His Grace now wore a grim expression.
Some silent communication took place between the brothers.
As Jeremy turned to Linnie, dread formed a pit in her stomach. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’ll be but a moment,” he promised. Lowering his mouth to hers, Jeremy kissed the rest of her worrying away.
She lifted her fluttering lashes. “You did that to distract me,” she murmured dizzily.
“Only some.” He sketched Meghan a respectfully low bow. “Miss Smith, if you will also excuse me. I’m afraid the duke summons.”
With a wink that didn’t match the tension pouring from his muscular frame, he excused himself.
Both women watched the two men exchange a handful of words.
A fierce glint darkened Linnie’s husband’s eyes. With that, he stalked off. The Duke of Hartwell made a hasty bow and set after his brother.
Meghan puzzled her brow. “Whatever do we believe that is about?”
Linnie, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom, shook her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured.
But it certainly didn’t appear good at all.