Surrender the Heart Read online

  For the most part.

  Noah marched into the room like a captain in command, and her heart quirked a traitorous flutter in her chest. What is wrong with me? He tossed his bicorn onto a hook on the wall and eyed his guests. One brow lifted when his eyes landed on her. “Miss Denton, you came?”

  “I was invited, was I not?”

  “I didn’t expect the pleasure of your company.”

  “I did not wish to deny you of it.” She hid her annoyance beneath a sarcastic smirk.

  Mr. Heaton grabbed a decanter from the table and poured himself a glass of whatever vile liquor it held.

  Noah approached her, pointing at his desk. “What, pray tell, do you find so fascinating among my things?”

  “Miss Denton wanted to—” Hobbs began.

  “Mr. Hobbs was instructing me on the fine points of navigation, if you must know.” Marianne interrupted before the man gave her away.

  Noah folded his arms across his brown waistcoat. “I had no idea you had such interests.”

  “Nor the mind to grasp them?”

  He smiled.

  Luke dropped into a chair, a grin on his lips.

  Mr. Hobbs shifted his stance and gazed between them. “Truth be told, Miss Denton has a keen mind an’ a quick understandin’.”

  Marianne smiled at the elderly man. “Why, you are too kind, Mr. Hobbs.”

  “Hmm.” Noah scratched the stubble on his jaw.

  A sailor entered with a tray balanced on his shoulder. Another man followed him, and they both began placing platters of food on the table: biscuits, cheese, a steaming bowl of some sort of soup, and a block of salted meat.

  The spicy scent of stew wafted over Marianne. Her mouth watered and her stomach clenched at the same time. Whether it was seasickness or the constant terror of being upon the ocean, Marianne found her appetite had shriveled.

  She thanked Mr. Hobbs and moved away from the desk, deciding it would be best to make her exit now before she had to endure any more of Noah’s scorching wit.

  The ship tilted and one of the sailors stumbled. A glass decanter flew from his tray and crashed to the floor, bursting into a hundred crystalline shards.

  “My apologies, Cap’n.” The sailor growled as he knelt to pick up the mess.

  “No need, Mr. Rupert,” Noah said. “Just attend to the mess, if you please.”

  A red slice appeared on one of Rupert’s fingers, and Marianne withdrew her handkerchief from her sleeve and knelt beside him. Taking his hand in hers, she wrapped the bloody appendage. “Be careful, Mr. Rupert.” She smiled and his hazel eyes lifted to hers, shock skimming across them. “Let me help you.” She began picking up pieces of glass when a hand touched her arm.

  “No need, Miss Denton. He can manage.”

  She looked up to see Noah’s brow furrowed as tight as a wound rope.

  “Of course.” She rose and felt warmth flush through her. What was she thinking? A lady of fortune did not assist servants. Her gaze scanned Mr. Heaton, Mr. Hobbs, the other sailor, and Noah all staring her way.

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, my head suddenly aches. I believe I’ll forfeit my dinner tonight.”

  The curious look remained on Noah’s face. “Allow me to escort you to your cabin.”

  She waved a hand through the air. “I know the way. Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen.” And with that, she swept out the door.

  Making her way down the hallway, she chided herself for her mistake. Noah must never know how destitute she and her mother were. If he did, it would only fuel his desire to call off the engagement. And that must never happen. Not as long as Marianne had anything to say about it.

  She stepped inside her cabin and shoved the door closed then leaned against the hard wood. Her plan was set in place. Now all she had to do was wait for the captain to leave his cabin.

  CHAPTER 6

  A rap sounded on her cabin door, and Marianne stopped the pacing she’d taken up for the past several hours as she waited for the sounds of laughter to dissipate from the captain’s cabin—which they had done an hour ago. Still she could not get up the courage to do what she had to do. Not until she could be sure Noah was either gone from his cabin or fast asleep.

  She opened the door to Agnes carrying a tray laden with cheese, biscuits, a mug, and a basin of water along with her medical satchel.

  “Thank you, Agnes. You are too kind.” Marianne stepped aside, allowing the elderly woman to enter and set the tray upon the shelf. The sharp smell of cheese drifted on a salty breeze that followed the woman inside, sweeping away the stagnant air that filled the tiny cabin.

  “I heard you did not partake of the captain’s meal, miss.” Agnes’s breath came out heavy and fast. “So here’s some food fer you an’ some water t’ clean up wit’.”

  Shutting the door, Marianne’s concern rose at the pale sheen covering Agnes’s normally rosy face. “Please sit, Agnes. You look tired.”

  “I thank you, miss.” Agnes moaned as she lowered herself onto the mattress.

  “You don’t have to serve me, Agnes. I am sure your duties occupy much of your time.”

  Agnes plucked a handkerchief from her belt to dab her forehead and neck. “Oh, I don’t mind. It is nice havin’ another woman aboard. Besides, the cap’n ordered me to attend to your every need.”

  Marianne flinched. “I doubt that.”

  One gray eyebrow rose nearly to the lace fringing Agnes’s mobcap. “For bein’ his fiancée, you don’t know him very well.”

  “On the contrary, I grew up with him.” Marianne reached for a slice of cheese from the tray and took a bite.

  “Pish.” Agnes batted the air. “All little boys can be rascals from time t’ time.”

  The cheese soured in Marianne’s mouth even as her stomach reached up hungrily to grab it. “He was extraordinarily devilish.” She sat beside Agnes. The woman smelled of wood smoke, fish, and spices—not unpleasant odors. In fact, they comforted Marianne.

  Agnes chuckled, causing the skin around her neck to jiggle. “It has been my observation that most young boys only tease girls they fancy.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Marianne snorted. “I assure you, nothing but disdain spurred him on.”

  Agnes brushed a lock of Marianne’s hair from her face. “Poor dear, you seem so out o’ sorts aboard this ship.”

  Marianne’s throat burned at the woman’s kindness. She hadn’t realized how much she needed a friend, someone whom she could confide in, someone who cared. “I worry about my mother. She is very ill.”

  Agnes patted her hand. “I am sorry t’ hear of it, miss. It is so hard to be away from those we love, especially when they are not well.” She clucked her tongue. “How unfortunate you wandered aboard when you did.”

  “Indeed.” Marianne twisted the ring on her finger as a hundred scenes crept out from her childhood memories—scenes of Noah’s cruel antics and how he always got the best of her. “Do you have family in America?” she finally asked Agnes.

  Agnes’s eyes drooped in sorrow. “We did. Mr. Hobbs and I. We had two sons. Both died of the grippe before they reached manhood.”

  The ship creaked and groaned as it rose over a swell. Marianne’s heart shriveled. She couldn’t imagine such a horrific loss. “I am so sorry, Agnes.”

  Agnes cleared her throat, and the momentary moisture disappeared from her eyes. “It was a long time ago. I suppose that’s why me and Mr. Hobbs have latched onto Noah. He’s like another son to us.”

  Marianne wondered how such a self-centered boor could make anyone a good son, yet the woman seemed sincere in her approbations. Perhaps the bond between them afforded Agnes some sway over the thickheaded rapscallion—a sway Marianne could use to her advantage. “Would you speak to the captain for me?” she ventured. “Beg him to turn the ship around?”

  “Oh no, no, no, dear.” Agnes gave an incredulous laugh. “When Noah sets his mind t’ make port and sell his goods, there ain’t nothing can stand in his way.”
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br />   Marianne shook her head, her hopes crushed once again. “With men, it seems everything revolves around wealth.” Just as it had with her father.

  Agnes jerked her head back. “Money? No.” Her eyebrows drew together. “That’s not the way of it with Noah. It’s his father who drives him so hard.” She leaned toward Marianne. “If you ask me, I’d say Noah don’t care much for the money itself.”

  “Then why did he leave our engagement party in order to set sail as if the delay would cost him more than he could bear?”

  “Did he, now?” Agnes huffed and put an arm around Marianne, drawing her close. “Shame on him. Not like him at all.”

  Marianne grew weary of everyone’s approval of the man. Even though she’d seen little of him these past eleven years, she’d observed nothing about his recent behavior to indicate he’d changed from the churlish imp he had been as a young boy.

  “I’m sorry he pained you, miss. Noah lives under a heavy burden these days. Lord knows, I’ve been praying for him t’ let it go.”

  Marianne bit back a snide remark. What burden could the man possibly have that compared to hers? He worried about pleasing his father, about making money, while she worried about saving her mother’s life.

  Agnes studied Marianne’s expression, obviously mistaking it for one of curiosity. “As his wife, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  The thought brought Marianne no comfort, neither the marrying, nor the discovering of Noah’s burden. For now all she needed him to do was turn the ship around and return to Baltimore.

  Beads of perspiration lined Agnes’s forehead, and she dabbed them away. “He’s a good man. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  Marianne swallowed. “I do not seek happiness. Why should anyone expect happiness in this life? Doesn’t God’s Word portend of trials and troubles and tribulation?” The cheese turned to stone in her stomach, and she pressed a hand over it. In these past years, Marianne had come to believe those verses more than the ones promising joy and peace and abundance.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Agnes gave Marianne a motherly look of concern. “Life has its struggles, t’ be sure, but there are also many fine moments as well—right fine moments.”

  “Perhaps, but if I do not look for them, then I shall not be disappointed.” Marianne stood, pressing down the folds of her gown. “I am not the sort of person who is destined for greatness. I am an ordinary girl who will live an ordinary life.”

  “Such a glum outlook, my dear.” Agnes took Marianne’s hands in hers. “And you are far from ordinary.”

  Marianne warmed at the affection brimming from her friend’s eyes. But then Agnes’s face blanched, and she pressed a hand upon her rounded belly.

  Marianne grabbed her arm. “Are you ill?”

  “Just out o’ sorts a bit.” Agnes batted the air. “I’ll be all right. Now”—she turned and grabbed her satchel—“let me redress your wound and then I’ll let you retire.”

  “Thank you, Agnes, but I haven’t been sleeping very well since I boarded.”

  “The captain neither.” Agnes grabbed the bowl of water and plucked a fresh bandage from her bag. “I saw him on deck just a bit ago, staring off into the dark sky as he often does during the night.”

  Excitement tingled Marianne’s veins, and she hardly noticed as Agnes redressed her wound. Hopefully Noah’s nighttime stroll would give her plenty of time to slip into his cabin and steal his navigational instruments.

  “Thank you, Agnes,” Marianne gave her a peck on the cheek as Agnes opened the door to leave.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest, dear. God bless you.”

  Marianne watched until the woman faded into the shadows, thinking of what she was about to do. God had not blessed her in many years, and He certainly would not bestow any blessing on her current task. But something had to be done to convince Noah to head the ship back to Baltimore. She was on her own.

  Easing into the hallway, she inched her way to the captain’s cabin. With a click that seemed to echo like a gong through the corridor, she opened the door and slipped inside. Moonlight poured in through the stern windows in a waterfall of silver that dusted across Noah’s desk. The spicy scents of a supper long since consumed swirled around her.

  After listening for any sounds coming from the sleeping chamber or the hallway, Marianne made her way to the desk and scanned its contents. Spotting the sextant, protractor, and gunner’s scale, she quickly grabbed them and turned to leave. But her eyes latched onto a bottle of ink, and a devilishly naughty idea made her lips curve upward. Setting the instruments back down, she picked up the ink bottle and uncorked it. She studied the map for the best location then slowly turned the bottle over. Thick, black liquid oozed from the lid and spread on the area beside the coast of England into a burgeoning puddle of pitch that covered the sea like lava from a volcano. She smiled and set the bottle on its side, hoping to make it appear as though it tipped over on its own.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she studied her artwork with satisfaction.

  “Now to find a place to hide you,” she whispered to the implements as she picked them back up.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Boot steps echoed in the hallway

  Muffled voices and laughter jarred her nerves and strung them tight.

  Marianne froze. Her heart thundered in her chest. The mad dash of the sea against the hull seemed to be laughing at her.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “I daresay, you’ll be the death of me, Luke.” The captain’s voice grew louder.

  Marianne’s eyes darted around the room. Nowhere to hide. Beneath the desk? No. She whirled around. The sleeping cabin.

  Dashing across the room, she dove into the tiny room no bigger than a wardrobe and stubbed her toe on the bed frame. She bit her lip against the groan rising in her throat. The cabin door creaked open and in stomped Noah, and from the sound of the other voice, Mr. Heaton. Lantern light peeked around the corner of the chamber door as if trying to expose her. She folded into the deepest shadows and leaned against the wall. Her chest heaved. Her blood pounded like drums in her ears.

  “Confound it all! What’s this?” Noah yelled.

  Boot steps thundered.

  “My chart is ruined!” A foul word spewed from his mouth, stinging Marianne’s ears.

  “What a mess,” Mr. Heaton exclaimed. The rustling of paper filled the room. “How will you chart our course?”

  Noah snorted. “I have another one.”

  Marianne’s heart sank. Perspiration trickled down her back.

  Drawers opened and scuffling sounded, as no doubt the men sopped up the spilt ink.

  “Have a drink with me, Noah. You look as though you could use one.” Mr. Heaton said.

  The sound of a chair scraping over the wooden planks met Marianne’s ears. “Very well. A small glass, if you please.”

  Chink. Glass rang on glass.

  “To a safe voyage,” Luke said.

  “A safe voyage,” Noah replied.

  Marianne’s heart refused to stop thumping against her ribs. Oh Lord, please get me out of this. Silence ensued. After several long minutes, curiosity overcame her fear. Keeping to the shadows, she inched beside the bed and crept into the far corner, which gave her a narrow view of the other room. Noah sat on a chair, his legs stretched out before him. Seafoam sprawled in his lap. He ran his fingers through her fur with one hand while he sipped his drink with the other.

  “I believe this long voyage will be far more interesting with Miss Denton aboard.” Mr. Heaton leaned back against the top of Noah’s desk, drink in hand.

  Marianne flung a hand to her mouth. Her mind whirled at the man’s remark. Interesting? She had always thought herself rather dull.

  Noah eyed his friend. “She has a bit of pluck, doesn’t she?”

  The cat nestled against his chin. Noah smiled and scratched her head. Marianne shook her head at the tender way he caressed the animal—so at odds with his ruthless character.

 
; Mr. Heaton rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Very entertaining, indeed. I look forward to your banter with her.”

  “My torment of her is not for your entertainment. And it pains me to treat her so.”

  Noah’s expression remained stoic. Not a trace of humor could be found either in his voice or on his face. Marianne could make no sense of his statement. If it pained him to insult her, why did he continue?