Page 47 of Lady Tempts a Rogue
To prevent further loss of life and the spread of the dreaded disease, we urge you to close the ports and cities’ gates as you have ordered during previous plagues. At the very least, quarantine Tangiers, where the plague originated.
~Several Foreign Consuls, in an entreaty to Sultan Moulay Suleiman
Captain Breckett’s Cabin
Five minutes later
Devil take it.
I shall not vomit. I shall not vomit.
Standing before Captain Breckett, rain dripping from his oilcloth into puddles on the floor, Devin steeled his resolve. He would be cursed, by Hades, if he would heave his hash while citing his marriage vows.
A sideways glance at Trinity revealed her waxen pallor as well.
If the situation was not so deuced horrible, it might be funny.
The storm had not abated a jot but, rather, seemed to have grown in ferocity.
“Let us get on with it.” Rubbing his chapped hands together, Captain Breckett did not even consult The Book of Common Prayer. “I am needed topside, and both of you look like you should find the nearest berth and lie down.”
It was true.
Trinity had grown wanner by the minute, and if Devin did not lie down soon, no force on earth or heaven could keep the contents of his stomach in place. Even then, he was not positive he’d not spend his wedding night heaving until his throat burned.
“If you have no objections, I shall skip the more poetic verses.” Grizzled eyebrows high on his broad forehead, the captain looked between Devin and Trinity. “Agreed?”
Devin nodded, and Trinity whispered, “Yes.”
Gripping her elbow to steady her, Devin gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Her weak smile was anything but encouraging.
In less than three minutes, they recited their vows, the captain entered the marriage in his logbook, and he and Mr. Alderton witnessed the contract Devin had scribbled for Trinity amid the ship doing her utmost to toss him on his arse.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Everingham.” Captain Breckett shook Devin’s hand. “I shall record the marriage when I return to England. There will be no doubt you are legally married.” Cheeks apple red, he scratched his bewhiskered jaw. “As long as…ah…the marriage is consummated.”
Tight-lipped, Trinity nodded.
Had she been concerned about that?
Fiend seize it.
Devin ought to have considered her unease. He had no intention of consummating their vows on a ship bucking like a wild horse.
The ship shuddered as wind and sea pummeled her with the vengeance of a prizefighter.
Casting an experienced glance ceilingward, the captain said, “I suggest you remain in your cabin until the storm passes.” He shifted his gaze to Mr. Alderton. “With me, Mr. Alderton.”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.” His nose a red beacon, Mr. Alderton made a half bow. “Felicitations. May ye be happy.”
Hat clasped in his weathered hands, he shuffled his feet and cast the captain an apologetic glance. “It doesna seem proper no’ to offer ye a blessin’.”
Mìle fàilte dhuit le d'bhréid,
Fad do ré gun robh thu slàn.
Móran làithean dhuit is sìth,
