Surrender the Heart Page 8

  Mr. Heaton laughed. “And the easy way in which she went to the aid of Rupert. I thought you said she was a highbrow used to a life of ease, surrounded by servants.”

  Noah shrugged. “It must be a ploy of some kind.”

  A ploy, indeed. Marianne gritted her teeth.

  “Come now, Noah. I know you all too well. The woman enchants you.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “She’s not at all like Miss Priscilla.”

  Marianne’s ears perked.

  “No. She is not.” Noah set the cat down, and the feline swept her almond shaped eyes toward Marianne where they remained for several seconds. The blasted cat knows where I am. Marianne stiffened, barely allowing a breath to escape her lips. She gave the cat a pleading look that she hoped conveyed in cat language what her heart screamed. Please, from one woman to another, do not betray me. Finally, Seafoam lost interest and leapt upon Noah’s desk.

  “The two women are quite the opposites.” Noah stared into space.

  “Will you call on her in South Hampton?”

  But he’s engaged to me! Anger stole Marianne’s fear. What a swaggering, lecherous cur!

  “Though I would love to, no. It would not be right. I am engaged, after all.”

  “But if you have your wish, that may not last long.”

  “Perhaps, but while I am bound thus, I will honor my commitment.”

  Honor his commitment? Admiration sparked within Marianne. It felt oddly out of place in regard to Noah. Yet the fact that he would even so much as entertain interest in another woman while he was engaged to her doused it immediately.

  Noah slapped the remainder of the drink to the back of his throat. “Leave me to my rest, Luke.”

  Mr. Heaton finished his drink and set his glass down. “Very well.” He headed for the door.

  Noah stopped him. “Before you retire, check on the watch and ensure the next one will be awakened on time. I will not tolerate further laggardness on this ship.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap.” Luke grinned as he stepped backward through the door and closed it.

  Panic turned Marianne’s legs to wobbly ropes. This was it. He wasn’t leaving his cabin. What would he do to her when he caught her? Remembering the instruments in her hands, she quickly stuffed them beneath his mattress and backed up as far as she could against the wall, awaiting her fate.

  Noah shrugged off his coat then began unbuttoning his waistcoat. He tore it off, tossing it to the chair then tugged the cravat from his throat.

  Oh no, Lord. Please don’t allow him to disrobe. Marianne squeezed her eyes shut, but they refused to close completely, leaving a small slit beneath her lashes. Should she alert him to her presence? No. Perhaps he would still decide to leave for some reason.

  Lord, make him remember some command to issue or some ship detail to attend to.

  He slipped the shirt over his head then sat down to remove his boots. The sculpted muscles in his chest and arms glistened in the lantern light. Marianne could not tear her eyes from him. She’d never seen a man’s chest before, and it both fascinated her and caused an odd feeling in her belly.

  He stood and began fumbling with the buttons of his breeches. The ship canted, and Marianne darted into the other corner where she could not see him. Perhaps he would fall into his bed and take no note of her.

  “Meow.” Something warm and furry rubbed against her leg.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Seafoam’s white shadow lingering by her feet. Silently, she gestured for the stupid cat to go away, but it continued circling the hem of her skirt. “Meow.”

  Footsteps stomped. Marianne held her breath.

  A half circle of light advanced upon her shoes, then crept up her legs.

  “What have we here?”

  CHAPTER 7

  A pair of wide brown eyes, streaked with terror, stared up at Noah. He shook his head. The woman amazed him. The last place he would have expected to find Miss Denton was hiding in his sleeping cabin. And for the life of him, he could find no reason for it, save one, which would be an impossibility.

  “Pardon me, Noah. I seem to have gotten lost.” The fear fled her eyes, replaced by her usual lofty manner as she attempted to brush past him.

  “A condition you seem to be making a habit of aboard my ship.” He moved to block her. A chuckled erupted from his throat.

  She planted her hands on her waist. “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

  Seafoam jumped onto Noah’s bed and plopped down, eyeing them both.

  Noah set the lantern down and leaned on the doorframe. A grin overtook his lips as he realized he could have some fun with this awkward situation. “On the contrary, finding you so close to my bed in the middle of the night is quite amusing, or should I say, rather pleasing.” He winked.

  Her chest heaved. Her gaze flitted about the tiny room, avoiding him entirely. A red hue crept up her neck onto her face like a rising tide.

  She lifted a hand as if she were going to push him, but when her eyes met his bare chest, she seemed to think better of it. “If you please, Noah, I need some air.”

  He stepped aside before she swooned. Then grabbing the lantern, he followed her out into his cabin and placed it atop his desk. He faced her, searching his memory of his conversation with Mr. Heaton for anything the lady should not have overheard.

  “Good night, Noah.” She kept her head lowered and headed for the door, but he darted in front of her.

  “Not just yet, Miss Denton.”

  She backed away. “I am tired and wish to retire now.” The scent of her lavender soap swirled around him

  “Then why are you in my cabin?” Noah lowered his head to peer into her face, but she kept her gaze upon the deck.

  “If you insist on keeping me here, would you at least do me the honor of donning your shirt?”

  He chuckled. That she was an innocent did not surprise him. That his unclad chest affected her, he found oddly pleasing.

  “Are you quite sure, Miss Denton?” He quirked a brow.

  She raised her chin, her face twisting in disdain as another flood of crimson blossomed over it. “How dare you?”

  “Perhaps you cannot wait for our wedding night?”

  Her brown eyes simmered. “Why you insufferable cad.” She raised her hand to slap him.

  He caught it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss, eyeing her with delight.

  She studied him then released a sigh. “You tease me, sir.” Snatching her hand from his, she stepped back. “But what would I expect from you?”

  Moving to the chair he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. His glance fanned over his desk where his chart had been and he spun around. “You. You ruined my chart.”

  She averted her gaze and began twisting her ring. “Why would I do that?”

  Brown curls swayed in disarray around a fresh bandage devoid of blood. Her lips pressed in their usual petulant manner, and her petite nose pinked as it always did when she was distraught.

  “To force me to return to Baltimore, perhaps?” He took a step toward her. She retreated.

  Then squaring her shoulders, she placed her hands atop her rounded hips. “Who is Priscilla?”

  Noah couldn’t help but grin. So she had heard their conversation. Shame settled over him, but he shrugged it off. He had done nothing wrong. “A friend.”

  “How dare you toss your affections to another when you are engaged to me.”

  “I can assure you, miss. I never toss my affections anywhere.”

  Marianne studied him. A word of truth at last, for she doubted the man cared for anyone but himself. Then why was she behaving the jealous shrew? His thick chest peeked out from within his open shirt. The sight of it befuddled her mind. How could she think clearly with his firm muscles staring her in the face?

  Yet something else caused unease to clamp over her nerves. Why wasn’t Noah furious with her for ruining his map? Instead of chastising her and tossing her from his cabin, he seemed to find the inci
dent amusing.

  Which only further infuriated her.

  He sat back against his desk and released a ragged sigh, then rubbed the back of his neck as if he had the weight of the world sitting upon it. Agnes’s words regarding his burden resurfaced in Marianne’s thoughts, and she wondered for a moment what was troubling him.

  She should leave. She knew she should leave. Especially now that he no longer blocked her way, but perhaps she could garner some useful information.

  “Why do you work so hard for your father?”

  His eyes widened. Finally he said, “Unlike you, I wasn’t born to privilege. I must work to survive.”

  “I cannot help the situation of my birth.” She huffed. “But you can cease holding it against me.”

  He tilted his head and examined her as if he could not fathom what she said. “Fair enough,” he conceded with a semblance of a grin.

  Marianne glanced at the closed door and realized how improper it was for her to be alone with him in his cabin. Yet aside from her reputation—which she doubted anyone on board would care to sully with gossip—the only thing in danger was her pride from his continual insults.

  The ship rose over a wave, and she raised a hand to the wall to keep from stumbling. “I don’t know how you tolerate this constant teetering. If not for these walls, we would all be thrashed to and fro with each wave.”

  “Bulkheads.”

  “Oh, who cares?” She huffed. Releasing the wall, she balanced her way to one of the chairs closest to the door and sat down. “I’ve seen little of you for eleven years. Your father would visit quite often before my father died, but you were never with him.”

  “I was at sea.”

  Marianne nodded, remembering the event that had sent him there. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”

  He snapped his gaze away and stood, turning his back to her. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Unlike you, he was always kind to me.”

  Noah’s back stiffened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, Jacob was kind to everyone. Generous, wise, and …” He faced her and shrugged. “Well, everything I am not.”

  Though she could not argue with his statement, Marianne’s heart sank at the look of agony on his face. Word around town was that Jacob had died in an accident aboard a ship. Though she longed to know the details of his death, the anger and despair etched on Noah’s countenance silenced her.

  Her own sorrow at her father’s death remained an open wound on her heart. Perhaps they could find some common ground on that alone. “I understand your pain.”

  His tight expression softened, but the hard look in his eyes remained. “I am sorry for your loss, as well, Miss Denton, but I doubt you understand what I have suffered.”

  Marianne tugged on a lock of hair, her ire surging with the rise of the ship over another swell. “I understand the loss of someone you love, Noah. Will you credit that to my account or do you hold a monopoly on grief?”

  He snorted. “You may suffer as you wish, miss.”

  “How kind of you,” she retorted then chided herself. There was no sense in lowering her behavior to his reprehensible level. Besides, it was obvious he still felt the sting of his brother’s death. Until that dreadful day, the Brenin twins had been inseparable. “My mother tells me God brought her the comfort she needed when my father passed. Perhaps you should pray?”

  “You may also do the praying, as you wish.”

  “You don’t believe in God?”

  “I believe He exists. I simply don’t think about Him often. Nor do I think He considers me.” The muscles in Noah’s neck tightened. “I have discovered it best to keep myself out of the focus of the Almighty’s scope, lest I displease Him in some way and suffer the consequences.”

  Sorrow burned in Marianne’s throat. Such a low opinion of God. “Surely you don’t believe that. God will bring you comfort, Noah. And hope for the future.” She twisted the ring on her finger. Did she believe that? Yes. God had indeed comforted her and her mother. She had felt His presence during their grief. She knew He was real. But in truth, her hope was not in this world. In this life, she had lost all trust that God would work things out for good as He said in His Word. Even so, it broke her heart to see Noah so far from the only One who could help him.

  “He can lead you and guide you,” she went on. “Grant you wisdom and show you His plan for your life.”

  “There is no plan, Miss Denton. The sooner you strike that thought from your mind, the sooner you will start to live your own life.” He gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles grew white. “No, a man makes his own plan, his own destiny. As I am making mine.”

  “And doing so well at it.” Marianne straightened her back. “Pray tell, once you have my fortune, will you continue to exhaust yourself year after year, piling up wealth to supply your endless pride?”

  “You find me greedy?” He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling as if he found delight in her insult. But hadn’t he always responded to her attempts to inflict pain on him with the same insolent laughter? As if she were of so little importance that she could not possibly affect him at all.

  “You don’t know me, Miss Denton.”

  “Then why marry a woman you don’t love? To do so only to please your father seems unlike someone who is so”—she paused, searching for the right word, and upon finding none chose the first one that had come to mind—“self-centered.”

  The lantern flickered, casting golden flecks on the tips of his hair. He scratched his chin, this time not laughing at her barb. “There is much you don’t know.”

  “Pray tell, enlighten me, since I am to be your prisoner for months.”

  “Prisoner? I am crushed.” He laid a hand on his heart even as one side of his lips curved in a mocking grin. “I prefer to call you an unwilling passenger.”

  “You may prefer all you wish, Captain, but that does not make you correct.”

  “Your wit has improved with age.”

  “Yours has not.” Marianne remembered Noah and Luke’s conversation about her pluck. “But I am happy to entertain you.”

  “It was Luke who remarked so. Me? I fail to find pleasure in your company, princess.” He lowered his gaze but not before she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. Nevertheless, his words cut deep—deeper than she would have expected. Why was she subjecting herself to his cruelty?

  She rose to find her legs unsteady. “It was you who insisted I stay in your cabin.”

  “To discover the depth of your traitorous activities.” His grin had returned, but it lacked its usual luster.

  “Since that has been established, I shall relieve you of my company.” Marianne swung around.

  “Established, you say?” He chuckled. “The only things we have established are that my chart is ruined and that you seem to enjoy lurking about a man’s chamber in the middle of the night.”

  She swerved about. “How dare you! What are you implying?”

  One dark eyebrow rose and he gave an innocent shrug. “Nothing. But if you didn’t come here to ruin my chart, what am I to think?”

  “You insufferable rogue.” Marianne narrowed her eyes, then swung about.

  “Good night, Miss Denton.”

  “Good night, Mr. Brenin.” She opened the door.

  His blaring voice halted her. “And rest assured, I fully intend to keep my cabin locked in the future.”

  Noah spread his new chart atop his desk. Morning sunlight sprinkled glistening particles of dust across it as he pinned the corners down with the instruments he’d found stuffed beneath his mattress. He chuckled. He had to give the woman credit. She didn’t give up and accept her fate as most women would. Persistent and stubborn. Just like when she was a little girl.

  Straightening his stance, he threw his arms over his head and stretched. Exhaustion tugged on his eyes. After Miss Denton had left, he’d barely slept an hour. And that hour had been fraught with nightmares—visions of raging seas and black angry skies,
of yards high above the deck flung effortlessly to and fro by the screaming wind, of blood on the planks below.

  His brother’s blood.

  He patted the handkerchief in his pocket and shook his head, trying to dislodge the tormenting memories. But the pain in his heart felt as raw as it had the day of the tragedy. The day Noah lost his will to live.

  Why, when Noah spent so much of his energy keeping his past buried had Miss Denton so carelessly brought it to mind? Yet he also could not shake the pained look in her eyes at his cruel remarks. But he had no choice. Blast it all. He’d truly enjoyed their conversation. The sympathy beaming from those brown eyes had caught him off guard. She did understand his pain—perhaps not the depth of it— but her concern had broken down some invisible wall between them. Then all her talk of God, not preachy, but out of true concern for him. He had felt his defenses weaken. And he couldn’t allow that to happen. She must be the one to break off their engagement. It was the only way for her to save face and for Noah to appease his father. Then with the added wealth this trip would bring, everyone would be happy. Perhaps he could even consider a courtship with Miss Priscilla in South Hampton.