Page 49 of Hooked

I felt weak, on the verge of crumbling and worried that I might fall apart right there at the table. So instead I dredged up all the anger I could find. Anger would sustain me. Anger would give me the energy to combat the man sitting across from me. I had to concentrate on that. I had to learn to utilize the anger instead of giving in to the melancholy and despair.

I pulled my back straight and instead of avoiding his gaze, I did my best to hold it, to show strength instead of submission. I listened to his bragging about the house and the servants. He presented each course as though I should be thrilled with each food offering set before me. And I did my best to imagine what it might have been like to have Falstone pound this man into the dirt with his bare fists.

Barbaric of me, I know. And really all it accomplished was making me miss Falstone, and Marilee. Emeline and Beatrice. The life I had cobbled together with nothing but tenacity and my own two hands. It was a life that would never be mine again.

“You know,” Captain Huckley said, interrupting my thoughts. “I do not mind if you speak up on occasion.” We were reaching the end of the meal, and he invited me to speak now? “Conversation should go both ways, no?”

I was positive this man would not wish to hear any of my opinions. “I find I have nothing to say at present.” I was proud I had found something to say that wasn’t a blatant insult.

He studied me as he leaned back in his chair, rolling his wine glass back and forth in his hand. “I suppose there is something to be said for appreciating the quiet.” He rose and crossed to my chair, setting his wine glass on the table before kneeling beside me.

I kept my eyes on my plate, my fingers gripping my fork even harder.

He toyed with a curl at my temple then ran a finger around the outside of my ear. “Such grace,” he said in an awed whisper. “Such loveliness.” He leaned in, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

Bile rose in my throat and I started to shake.

He slid a hand around the side of my neck and brushed his thumb against my jaw. “I do love you.” His whisper was fierce. “You know that, don’t you?”

I had to swallow and I was shaking so much that I could barely get my voice to work. “I’m sorry, but I do not know that.”

“Let me show you then.” He turned my face toward his, leaning in.

I turned my face away. “Please don’t,” I pled, bracing against his reaction.

He froze but did not move away. “You are to be my wife.”

I waded through my desperate thoughts, willing myself to not use the fork that I clutched in one fist as a weapon, trying to find the words that would convince him to stay away, even just for one more day. If I insulted him, I knew he would punish me for it, or move up the wedding. But if I appealed to whatever small sliver of compassion he had… “But I am not your wife yet. And while you are anxious for this union, I am still adjusting to the idea, and I would ask that you give me time to accept the situation as it must be.”

I held my breath, wondering if he would find the humanity to respect my wishes, or if he would prove to be nothing but a savage beast. He lingered, his hand still resting on my neck for several seconds, until finally he pulled back. “Very well,” he capitulated. “I will allow you these eleven days to adjust. But once we are married”—he took hold of my chin, pulling my face around so I would look at him—“I expect your full cooperation.”

I nodded. It cut at my insides to do so, but I did it. Because my only option was escape. Whether I was able to get away before the marriage or after, I would leave. I was not resigned to this. I refused to accept this hell. I’d seen what such a marriage had done to Marilee, and I knew that staying would never make it better. So I would bide my time. I would do my best to keep those eleven days in place so that I could snatch my freedom at the earliest opportunity.

He squeezed my chin just enough that it started to hurt before letting me go and bidding me goodnight.

The moment the dining room doors shut behind him, I shattered. Deep gasping breaths rasped in and out of me and I fought to control the shaking that vibrated through me. I pulled myself together just enough that I was able to stand and walk back to my room.

After Helen had helped me prepare for bed, I climbed under the smooth fabric and sank into the soft bed before allowing myself to come undone. My tears fell and I used my blankets to smother my shuddering sobs. I cried myself to sleep, feeling very much like I was back to being the terrified sixteen-year-old girl who had fled so many years ago. It seemed age had not helped with my terror. Experience did not make my situation more bearable.

Would it ever? I refused to find out.

15

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Mr. Smeed dropped several letters beside the captain’s plate, which he picked up, splitting his focus between reading and eating. When the last letter had been opened, read, and set down again, he took one more noisy slurp of tea and then spoke. “My dear,” he said, dabbing at his mouth and studying his pocket watch. “I have given this a good deal of thought, and I feel it would be easiest on you if we do not wait so long before marrying.”

My hand dropped to my lap and my face went slack as his words rang in my head. Not wait so long? “But the marriage is set for only ten days from now.”

His look was pitying. “Yes, and I fear if we wait that long, it will only give you time to become more nervous.”

Had this been his ploy all along? To dangle those fourteen days before me and then snatch them away? How could I convince him to keep his word? “I will be honest, Captain. I will be nervous no matter the time.” I attempted a nervous smile, hoping to appeal to his compassion, but my panic was rising. “And you promised me that if I came willingly, you would allow me these two weeks. Please”—my voice shook—“please do not go back on your word.” I was begging and I hated it. “I have not adjusted to the idea. I am not ready. I can’t—”

The pounding of Huckley’s fist against the table silenced me. He stood and loomed above me, eyes ablaze. “You are not some child who does not know the ways of the world. Stop playing the innocent. I no longer believe it.” The false care and concern were gone. This. This was the real Captain Huckley. “If you had married me ten years ago when the deal was struck, I might have accepted that excuse. I might have taken pity on the young girl I had chosen as my bride. But you are fully a woman now, and I find that my patience has been long exhausted.”

I trembled in fury as he raged over me.

“Four days from now, you and I will be married!” He tossed his napkin to the table with such force that it scattered the remnants of his breakfast and knocked over his goblet. “You should be grateful I’m giving you that.” Then he stalked from the room, yelling at servants as he went.

I sat in shock, my chest heaving with breaths that didn’t provide me enough air. I was suffocating, the sobs rising in my throat impossible to choke down. My face crumpled and my hands clutched at my heart as I tried to accept the new reality. This reality with even less hope than I had had before. This reality that stared me in the face with anger and violence.