This is a strange thing for him to say. She blurts, “You said you wouldn’t wed.”
Another kiss. “I’d reconsider for the right woman. One I could trust to handle the danger that comes with the work.”
She scoffs. She can’t help it. Why should he make this pretense? Why promise something he doesn’t want? She says, “Is that what you tell all of us?”
“What do you mean, all of you?”
She has offended him; she can hear it in his voice. Still. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one. The way you know how to…how to do all of those things.” George never did.
He half turns so he can look at her. The hammock wobbles as he shifts his weight. “Isabel, this is nonsense. Of course we’ll marry.”
What?She thinks it, and then she says it out loud, “What?”
“You want to marry, don’t you? We’re a good fit. Admit it. We’re a good fit in every which way—as we have just discovered. And it would mean you’d no longer have to live in a state poorer than the least fortunate of my tenants.”
She pushes herself up on her elbow. The hammock swings dangerously. “That’s what this is about? You want to save me from being poor?” Her new life may lack many things, but a savior is not one of them. “I’m fine as I am.”
“I don’t want tosaveyou. I’m telling you I want to marry you. Do you not wish to?”
She does. Everything in her screams it:I do, I do, I do.But he doesn’t, not really. He only feels sorry for her, for her widowhood, her poverty, and now also for the fact that he has bedded her.England Expects That Every Man Will Do His Duty.Lord Nelson’s words, swimming in her mind.Is that what this is?she thinks. Does Jack believe it’s his duty to wed her, since he bedded her?
And even if he did truly wish to marry her, would she want to marry again? As a widow, she has her freedom. She isn’t sure she could give it up, even for love. To buy time, she says, “We’ve met only, what, four weeks ago?”
Jack says, “We know each other better than many couples after years of courting. We’re well suited to each other. What more could one hope for in a marriage?” He sounds exasperated. “Did you think I hadn’t considered these things before I took you to bed?”
Seeing her expression, he says, “I see. You thought I bedded you on impulse, without any consideration for your future, your feelings, or your honor.”
So this lies at the heart of it. She’s glad of his consideration, but if this is how he feels, then what will he think when he hears of the rumors about her and James? If she were to accept his proposal, she’d have to tell him. And he’d believe her, wouldn’t he, if she told him she and James only ever shared the close rapport of friends; he wouldn’t hold that proximity against her the way people in Greenwich did. She’s sure of it—almost. But what if she’s wrong?
When she doesn’t say anything, he says bitterly, “That is what you think of me.”
“Jack…” She takes a deep breath. “You break the law for a living. I thought…”
“This means I must therefore act the villain in all aspects of life, is that it?”
“I suppose I did. I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “I’m saying this all wrong. Let me try once more to rectify your prejudice against me. I’d like to marry you, Isabel Henley, if you’ll have me. I’ll go down on my knees to ask you if you want it done properly. I realize both of us lying naked in a hammock is not the traditional way, but I mean every word. I want to marry you, not to save you or because I feel I owe it to you after taking you to bed, but because I believe you’ll make a good wife for me and I would try my hardest to make a good husband.”
She nearly begins to weep again. To hide her confusion, she buries her face in his chest. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Since George…”
“If you need more time, you have it. My proposal stands for as long as you need to come to a decision. But it has been three years since he died, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, but…It’s because of George, but it’s also because…” She looks up at him again. “Jack, I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m living my own life for the first time. Independently, with no man ruling my fate, not my father, nor my husband. I don’t know that I could give it up.”
“I wouldn’t curb your freedom, if that’s what you fear.”
“I know, but once I marry again, it’s curbed, no matter what your views on it are. Society says it is. The law says it.”
She’s glad to see him smile again. “Have you not realized I hold the law in no great regard?”
She touches the line on his shoulder, the scar from the cutlass. “Would you let me sail with you if we were married?”
“Of course not. It’s far too dangerous.” A chuckle, then, “So that’s what you’re after, is it? A ship, not a husband?”
Both,she thinks,if I could have them.If I could still be free.But going to sea and being married are two opposing things. One rules out the other. George would never have allowed her to come on this voyage. And neither would Jack if she were his wife.
“Look,” Jack says. “I’m well aware what I’m asking of you. As long as my identity remains concealed, you’d be marrying John Carlyon, owner of the Roskorwell estate. The doors of society would be open to you, and you would not lack for anything. But the moment my name becomes known as the captain of theRapide,you’d be facing a different future. Those doors would close to you at once. No one would admit you to their houses, their dinner tables—”
