Page 34 of Mardon

“Your wife?” Her eyes sought out his.

“I mean . . . if I had a wife. Any wife,” he corrected himself, thinking of his brother, Tristan, and how vulnerable he became around a woman. “I mean . . . I know how to treat a woman. I didn’t mean I wanted a wife. Because I don’t.”

Well, that went well, he thought sarcastically, knowing that if she didn’t despise him before, she certainly would now. He was normally smooth-talking and at ease around women. Why did he feel nervous and tongue-tied when he was around Emmaline? He cleared his throat and continued.

“Are there guards around the tomb of St. Timothy?” he asked.

“Timothy?” She looked over to him, sniffed and smiled. “You mean Thomas. It’s St. Thomas Becket,” she told him.

“Whatever. Are there guards?”

“You really don’t know anything about this man, do you? Or about the cathedral either.”

“I’ve lived most of my life on the sea,” he answered. “So, nay, I’ve never been there, but you have. And that’s why I’m asking you.”

“I saw how slowly you climbed the lines,” she said to him. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” She covered his hand with hers.

“Ramble,” he groaned, knowing his cabin boy was at it again. “Why don’t you go and help Nairnie?” he said, clearing his throat, not wanting to think about his past. He pulled his hand away from her.

“I thought you wanted me to tell you about Canterbury Cathedral.”

“We won’t be there until sometime tomorrow. There will be time to talk later.”

“All right,” she said, almost sounding disappointed that he was sending her away. “And I was never going to poison you,” she mumbled as she headed down the stairs to the galley. Aaron passed her on the stairs, turning and looking at her over his shoulder as he approached Mardon.

“Was she – was she crying?” he asked, pointing to Lady Emmaline.

“If so, it wasn’t my fault,” Mardon answered.

“But she looked upset. Did something happen between you two?” He stretched his neck, watching Emmaline making her way to Nairnie.

“Nothing happened, nothing ever happened, and nothing ever will!” Mardon snapped at his brother, not meaning to, but feeling cornered where the wench was concerned.

“God’s eyes, Mardon, calm down,” said Aaron. “You’re acting like you two are married and having a lover’s quarrel.”

“I’m never getting married, so get that idea out of your head right now, little brother.”

“Little brother?” Aaron repeated. “We’re back to that again, are we?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Mardon, I know you too well to believe that you don’t have any feelings for the girl. Now, tell me, what the hell is going on?”

“I wish I knew,” said Mardon, biting the inside of his cheek. He did have feelings for Emmaline, and that is the last thing he wanted to have right now. Damn it, what was happening here? She was just a wench, he told himself, and nothing more. He thought of the tears in her eyes and pain he saw on her face when she told him about her bastard of a husband. His heart ached for her. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and protect her. But he couldn’t. If he did, he would like it too much. And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up just like his brother, Tristan.

Chapter 8

Nightfall seemed to come quickly. Emmaline had helped Nairnie all day preparing food and getting the galley back in order. Most of Emmaline’s time was spent trying to get out of the pirates’ way as Peg Leg Pate and his crew rebuilt the entire galley in one day. It was just a simple, small room near the front of the ship used for storing and cooking meals. Still, it provided shelter and privacy – something that was scarce on this ship.

Emmaline was used to living in a castle, having space. She also used to have a large chamber all to herself. Being around so many pirates made her nervous. They were just too close and always seemed to be looking at her. She could only imagine each and every one of them staring at the naked painting . . . looking at her! The thought made her shiver and she wrapped her arms around her in a feeble attempt of hiding away.

Mardon and his brothers had originally proclaimed the galley as Nairnie’s private quarters, letting her sleep there on a raised pallet at night. It was so once again. Emmaline almost envied the old woman, wanting to use the galley for herself. To hide away.

The wood frame and walls went up quickly. This time, Pate had even added a door, whereas she was told before there was only a hanging curtain.

“Now, that’s better. Much better,” said Nairnie, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding. She inspected the work of the pirates, giving them her approval. “It’s goin’ to feel good to get back in my own bed.” Her words only made Emmaline long for her own bed as well – back home, not in France. Her memories of sharing a bed with Jean Philippe were only nightmares that she hoped to someday be able to put behind her.

“It’s nice,” said Emmaline, realizing that if Nairnie slept in the galley, that meant she would be sharing the cabin with Mardon. Alone. After the kisses they’d shared and the way she felt in his arms, she knew it was a bad idea. The last thing she wanted was to fall for a pirate. All that mattered to her was to be a lady again. She wanted to marry an English knight or baron and live the life she was meant to live. The faster she got off this cursed ship the better. “Nairnie, let me sleep in the galley with you,” she said, collecting up the dirty wooden dishes in her arms and following Nairnie into the new galley.