"I hope so."
The next few days passed quietly.
So did the nights. Once in bed, John took her in his arms and held her close, but nothing more. He didn't kiss her. He didn't touch her other than to hold her against his warm skin. Did Selena mean more to him than he was letting on? Was he regretting their marriage and preparing her for the day they would part company?
She was his wife. They'd consummated the marriage. Did he want out of it now?
The skies turned gray, as though reflecting the sad shadow cast upon her heart, and stayed that way until they sailed past Norwich and approached Harwich. Nicola was on deck, her shawl tightly wrapped around her shoulders, and the wind whipping her hair into a knotted mess, when John came to stand by her side. "We're going to be let off at Harwich. Somersby's men will be waiting for us in London. I think it is safer for us to travel the rest of the way over land."
"How? We haven't any funds."
The sun chose that moment to peek out from behind the clouds and beam down on them. John, of course, had a golden halo around him. He looked magnificently handsome, as always, quite rugged with the beard he'd let grow out. "I have an office in Harwich. I'm known there. We won't have trouble finding lodgings or a decent meal. We'll be off this whaler in a matter of hours."
She nodded. "I'd love a warm bath and a hot meal. Mostly, I want to be home and have this ordeal over. I want to hug Kendra and sweet little Emily. I want to chase fireflies with Robert and Callum," she said, referring to her younger siblings.
She clasped her hands and rested them on the railing as they began to shake. "I can't imagine what I was thinking to allow Somersby into my life. A fortnight ago, I was a silly debutante with not a care in the world. Now, I'm on the run for my life, married to a man who never would have offered for me if he weren't my brother's best friend, and chased by a deranged marquis who hates someone in my family enough to destroy my life. Oh, and he wishes to depose the king."
He covered her hands with one of his own. "We're almost done, Nicola. Another day or two at most and that book will be in Prinny's hands. We'll sort the rest of it out afterward."
She turned to face him. "Getting it to Prinny won't be easy. Somersby will have reached London by now. He'll have spies positioned everywhere, including around every royal residence."
"He won't stop me from gaining entry to the palace."
"I suppose not. You're the Crown's best agent. You can do anything."
He shook his head and stared at her. "Do I detect resentment in your tone?"
"No. Just fear." She emitted a ragged sigh. "What will happen to us once this is over?"
"Whatever you want to have happen. I'll obtain the special license in Harwich. We can be married by tomorrow … legally married under English law, that is. You're my wife, Nicola. Adding one more piece of paper to confirm it won't change how I feel."
"You're speaking out of a sense of honor and duty to protect. Those are noble obligations, but they are not the same as love. How do you feel about me, John? You haven't … you haven't touched me since we've been on this boat."
He frowned in contemplation. "I've held you in my arms each night."
"Yes, but you haven't touched me, not in a way that a husband has a right to touch his wife."
His eyes seemed to bore into her, the hunter-predator grays and greens as bright and clear as crystals. "I slept. Did you not notice?"
"I did … but, I … " Her eyes widened in surprise. "You slept. I'm so dense. But in my own defense, I've been distracted."
He cupped her cheek in his palm and gently ran his thumb across it. "I was at peace while your body rested against mine. How do I feel about you? Ask me the right question, Nicola. Ask me how it is that I've slept through these past nights without waking in terror, my sheets and body no longer soaking wet, and my heart no longer pounding a hole in my chest? Ask me how it feels to finally experience that sense of calm."
He traced his thumb lightly across her lips and smiled at her. "Ask me how it feels to hold your soft body against me."
She swallowed the lump of sweet agony lodged in her throat. "I was so caught up in my own fears and doubts, I never once thought … " She shook her head and swallowed hard again. "I wish I could blame it on my nausea from the odious scent of whale blubber."
"We've both been on edge." He grinned and lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. "I'll attend to my husbandly duties this evening. It will be my pleasure."
She laughed. "It's my pleasure I'm concerned about."
His eyes had a sparkle to them, like sunlight gleaming on the water. "I'll make that a priority."
CHAPTER 15
NICOLA'S LEGS WERE wobbling as she and John quickly made their way off the vessel to one of the dockside inns at Harwich. It was shortly after sundown, and after all these days at sea, Nicola's balance was off kilter. She felt the sway and tip of waves upon the water, her body seeming to rise and fall with each swell, even though they were now on firm ground.
She had expected John to take her to one of the run-down, noisy establishments frequented by seamen and ladies of ill repute that lined the harbor. But Nicola was delightfully surprised when John led her around the block to a modest structure with a weathered but genteel charm. The sign swaying above the door displayed three cups to designate its name, the Three Cups Inn.
It was not an elegant inn, but respectable.
As they walked in, Nicola noted that the furniture and carpets were of good quality. The sturdy, oak tables in the common room were wiped clean and set with serviceable bowls and dining utensils. The private dining room was a notch above the common room. The tables were also of oak, but of finer quality and highly polished, and set with crystal glassware, fine china, and silver utensils. The inn's library provided comfortable seating for guests wishing to spend a rainy afternoon reading.
Were she not worn down from the strain of running for her life, Nicola would have enjoyed these offered comforts. Since John had stayed at the Three Cups Inn before, no doubt on his way to fight on the Continent, or do whatever it was that he'd been assigned to do as an agent of the Crown, he was familiar to the innkeeper and able to secure them the inn's finest suite of rooms. More important, they were permitted to use the servant's entrance and back stairs, which allowed them to move about unseen by other guests.
The innkeeper was a burly woman by the name of Mrs. Finch who wore a perpetually indignant expression on her face, but appeared to adore John. Of course, who could resist him when he turned on the charm? He did just that as soon as they were settled in their guest chamber. The woman was fawning and giggling over him by the time he'd dropped his pouch over the bed's footboard. "Mrs. Finch, you are a treasure. Please have food and a warm bath sent up for my wife."
One of her graying eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yer wife, is it?"
"Yes," John replied, choosing to act the besotted beau rather than use a tone of commanding authority that would have had the innkeeper quaking. Nicola's own knees would have been shaking had he chosen to use the cold air of authority that came so easily to him. Of course, being impertinent by nature, she would have shot back a smart retort to hide the fact that she was terrified.
"Yes, I have married," he said and turned to Nicola, gracing her with a devastatingly tender smile. "I was lost the moment I set eyes on her."
The soft way he spoke made Nicola's legs turn to butter, even though she knew he was spouting nonsense. He'd known her forever. He'd ignored her for years. But she couldn't help blushing at his remark. "It was a whirlwind courtship, but how was I to resist him, Mrs. Finch? He is such a merry soul. A tender romantic. Reciting poetry, lavishing me with chocolates and flowers. Insisting on walking my pet ferret."
John burst out laughing.
Nicola grinned impishly at Mrs. Finch. "He is none of those things, of course. He's aloof and often dour. But he's brave and honorable and divinely handsome. I love him with all my heart."
The woman cast her a nod of approval. "Aye, Lady Bainbridge. Ye've got the best man in England. We've seen many pass through here, most of them knaves and some like yer husband who are men of honor. The Earl of Hearts is what we call 'im, for we knew it would only be a love match for 'im."
"The Earl of Hearts," Nicola repeated in a whisper, quite liking the expression. John's heart was like Excalibur, the sword of Arthurian legend. People throughout England tried to draw it out of the stone, the rich and the poor, the young and the old. The strong and the weak. But only one could ever claim the sword, just as only one woman would ever claim John's heart.