Page 33 of To Claim His Highland Bride

“You have my promise that I will take care of you and our child, Rowena.” He kissed her lips with a sweetness that rocked her to her core. He drew her into his arms and settled back upon the bed, nestling her close.

“Then if I am with child you would stay with me?”

His gaze when he looked down at her was grave. “I must honour my men above all else.”

She threw off his hands and moved to the far side of the bed. “You will abandon us then.” A bolt of panic zagged through her.

There was a flicker of anger in his green eyes. “Only temporarily. Until my task is complete. The consummation of our marriage has changed nothing in that respect.”

She looked at him indignantly. “It has changed everything for me.” Rowena scrambled off the bed, snatching the corner of the burgundy coverlet, holding it before her to hide her nakedness as she looked about for her clothing. She finally located a pile of her things near the door. Dropping the coverlet, she reached for her stays and drawers.

“Where are you going?” His voice lowered to a menacing softness.

“Anywhere but here.”

His lips thinned. “Have you forgotten we are on a ship—a ship full of men who have considered ravishing you from the moment you set foot aboard?” He pulled the coverlet back and patted the space beside him. “Come back to bed. There is nowhere else for you to go.”

She ran trembling fingers through her hair. He was right, of course, but she refused to let him know it as she continued to dress. Only when she was fully encased in her fairy armour did she make her way back to the bed. “Because, as you said, there is no other option. I will sleep here.” She reached for the pillow he’d left on the table earlier that morning and placed it at the foot of the bed.

“You have every right to be angry with me, but I cannot abandon the families of the men I lost, just as I could never abandon a child we brought into this world. You have to understand that.” His expression held uncertainty and vulnerability, two things he had never shown her before.

A sudden wave of tenderness lessened the frustration and disappointment inside her. “I might not like it, but I do understand,” she said as she settled on the bed near his feet. “So where does that leave us?”

“It leaves us exactly where we are—on our way to find a treasure.”

She sat up, facing him. She needed a portion of that treasure to fund her future life . . . and possibly the life of a future child. Tears stung her eyes. Why had she given in to temptation? Heat suffused her cheeks at the memory of their bodies joined, his face filled with desire as he moved within her. She cleared her throat to relieve it of tightness. He’d made his position perfectly clear. She had no choice but to be brave and struggle through her future alone. “You believe the treasure truly exists?” she asked softly.

“I do. The other treasures Jacob Thorne left us should be proof enough of that. But then again—” his expression became shuttered “—I can make no promises other than that I will not risk any life but my own to retrieve what might be hidden in the Cave of Gold.”

Why did those words cause her such a wrenching pang? “I choose to believe the treasure is there and that it will come to us without any loss of life.”

When he settled back against the bed, staring up at the carved canopy, she did the same. Moonlight bathed the chamber in silvery light.

“My only need for the treasure of Uamh Oir before tonight was to further fund the families of the men I lost and to keep Bryce from coming after the people I care about. Now I must believe in its existence for you and also any potential child.”

A spasm of pain centred in her chest at his words. “I do not want you to feel obligated to me. This marriage was meant to be temporary. We both have dreams. Now mine might include caring for a child. Perhaps it’s time to start remembering what those dreams are and working towards their fulfilment.”

“I have no dreams, only commitments.”

Rowena drew a sharp breath and continued her contemplation of the shadows above her head. Earlier this evening she might have considered Marcus had deeper feelings for her than he was ready to express. Not now. He saw her only as something to conquer and an obstacle that stood in his way.

A heaviness weighed her down. In the morning they would arrive at their destination. The sooner they found the treasure the better. Then both she and Marcus could move forward with their lives. As far as a child was concerned . . . God would not be so cruel, would he? A child would change everything for both of them. She wasn’t about to give up on her own dreams just yet, not until she knew for certain if she was to bear a child or not. She would have her answer soon enough. All she had to do was be patient.

*

During the night watch as the stars shone bright overhead, the other crewmen had finally allowed Bryce to do something other than swab the deck. Thomas had taken the new sailor under his wing and had showed him how to adjust the sails and rigging to accommodate a calmer wind, and had taught him how to safely scramble up the ratlines on the windward side.

At first, Bryce’s chest had been filled with jealousy over the fact these men had been trained by others to perform their duty, most likely by his own cousin. But after countless attempts to gain a toehold on the footropes while the ship swayed, that jealousy had slid into determination. And, after several successful attempts to reach the crow’s nest and the yard where the solid wood post met the main mast, he released a cry of triumph into the darkness of night.

For the first time in his life, he had not proven bad at something. In fact, Thomas had said Bryce possessed a talent that only needed refining.

A talent. Never had Bryce heard those words associated with himself before.

For the remainder of his shift, Bryce worked harder than he’d ever worked in his life, feeling a deep sense of not only accomplishment, but also belonging. Such a feeling was new to him, but he intended to hold on to it for as long as he possibly could.

Chapter Fourteen

Marcus woke in the early morning light to the sound of a contented sigh. He sat up. Rowena lay in her fairy armour on top of the coverlet, her hair an unbound glory of lustrous dark brown shot with gold. Her eyes were closed, her lashes arcing on to the softness of her cheeks. Her pink lips were slightly parted. As he looked at her, the muscles of his belly knotted and his manhood hardened. The scent of heather radiated from her pale skin, shining in the pinkish-yellow light as though it had been sculpted by a loving hand.