The Adventurer's Bride

‘Aye, as it happens Rebecca’s father enjoys the finest French brandy. He brought a couple of bottles when he visited me the other week. Now keep still. I will fetch the brandy in a moment.’

She tipped the cup carefully and watched the elderflower wine that she had made herself the other year wash over the wound just beneath his collarbone. She was aware of the mingling smells of sandalwood, blood, dried sweat and wine and that he gritted his teeth as she swabbed the wound with a clean rag.

‘I am sorry if I’m hurting you,’ she said hastily. Curling strands of her light brown hair that had escaped from beneath her cap brushed his chin as she lowered her head further.

Nicholas breathed in the scent of camomile and guessed she washed her hair in water perfumed by the dried flower heads. His thoughts drifted back to his boyhood when he had visited his godparents. Sir Jasper had been a prosperous wine merchant with a house in Bristol and another in the countryside a few miles from the port. He remembered a meadow being covered in camomile daisies.

‘Do you see much of Anthony Mortimer?’ he asked.

Jane moved away and considered her answer as she took a small jar from the stool nearby. ‘A fair amount. He is lonely. No doubt he misses the excitement of his old life of travel and meeting people. I am sure you can understand why that should be so, having travelled so much yourself?’

‘Not as much as him, I am certain,’ said Nicholas, frowning. ‘After all, he is much older than I and will surely find it more difficult to settle.’

‘Perhaps. When Rebecca’s at home, he does spend time in her company,’ replied Jane, ‘but not as much as he would like. Since her marriage to your brother, she likes to accompany him when he is summoned to court or the king gives him permission to perform for one of his lordly friends at their mansions, castles or palaces.’

Jane began to smooth salve on his wound and Nicholas felt her breasts press against him. Despite the pain he was in, he was aware of a stirring in his loins and it surprised him. For months he had not been with a woman and had held in his mind the image of Jane as a Madonna: a man did not have sexual desire for such an icon of reverence and worship. It was definitely odd and he knew that he must distract them both from this sudden unexpected yearning of his body. Being a widow, she would know what it signified if she were to become aware of his arousal.

He remembered his younger brother, Pip, wagering that he would never manage to live the celibate life required of priest. Nicholas had determined to prove him wrong. It appeared that his brother was right if the slightest brush of Jane’s breasts could create such a reaction in him. He imagined holding their firm roundness, pressing his lips against her soft skin.

He must stop this! He cleared his throat. ‘Tell me about this spinning business of yours. Does Master Mortimer take a great interest in it at all?’

‘You seem very interested in him,’ said Jane, frowning.

‘My concern is for you. As I’ve already said, he’s not a young man and you have enough on your hands caring for the children and trying to support them and yourself without becoming too closely involved with a man soon to be in his dotage.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What are you trying to say, Master Hurst?’

‘You’re no fool, Jane,’ he replied. ‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘If it is marriage you refer to,’ she muttered, a rosy colour flooding her cheeks, ‘then I would remind you that it is but four months since my husband died and this year is a period of mourning for me. I am hardly going to encourage Mortimer in such circumstances.’

He had forgotten temporarily about the mourning period, but he did not say so because all of a sudden he felt extremely odd. ‘Brandy!’ he exclaimed abruptly.

She stared at him and saw that he had gone quite pale beneath his tan. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and hurried away.

He closed his eyes, but despite doing so he could not shut out the scent of camomile that lingered in the air and again was reminded of his godparents and a spring when the tide was high. Sir Jasper had taken him to see the wave that swept in from the Bristol Channel as it fought against the river current. Despite all the wonders he had since seen on his travels, Nicholas had never forgotten the sight of that frightening wall of water advancing towards them and it had haunted his dreams. His godparents had had no children and the fortune Sir Jasper had amassed had come to Nicholas after the death of his godmother a year after her larger-than-life husband had died. At that time the urge to travel had been strong in him and he had seldom visited his properties. He had put an agent in the house in Bristol and a married couple in the one overlooking the estuary.

Since Matilda’s birth, he had come to the decision that he needed to make a proper home for her and it seemed sensible to take possession of his property.

There came the sound of a bottle being opened and liquor poured and then the swish of her black skirts as Jane returned. ‘Here you are, Master Hurst,’ she said, her voice sounding anxious.

His heavy eyelids lifted and he stared at her. ‘Why can’t you call me Nicholas?’ he said fretfully, taking the goblet from her and downing the brandy in one gulp. ‘Tell me, has Mortimer asked you to marry him?’

‘What!’ Jane returned his gaze with a frozen stare. Then she snatched the empty vessel from him and placed it beside the bottle on the table. ‘Why do you ask me such questions at such a time? Now, are you ready for me to continue with my ministrations?’ She picked up a cloth pad and one of the bindings and raised her eyebrows.

‘I am thinking only of your good,’ he said.

‘I can take care of myself,’ she retorted, pressing the pad on the shoulder wound, aware that he caught his breath as she did so. ‘Hold this and remain still and quiet.’

He frowned and placed his hand against the pad, convinced that Mortimer had proposed marriage to her. ‘A woman needs a man, although it is a puzzle to me why you ever asked me to be Simon’s godfather if you do not want me taking an interest in your affairs,’ he muttered. ‘Why did you?’

She had no answer to give him to that question that would not immediately result in his prying even deeper into her reasons for so involving him and could only say, ‘It seemed a good idea at the time.’

‘But not now? I admit that I was flattered when you asked me,’ he continued.

‘It was not my intention to flatter you,’ she said, binding the pad securely into place. ‘Why is it that you cannot obey a simple command? You’ve remained neither still nor quiet when I requested it.’

Nicholas sighed. ‘I am receiving the impression that you believe I have too much of a high opinion of myself and am no longer suitable to be Simon’s godfather.’

‘Now you are being foolish. Besides, I’m sure there are lots of people who tell you how brave and clever and marvellous you are,’ murmured Jane. ‘No doubt some of what they say about you is true, so I still would like you to confirm the proxy promises your brother made on your behalf. I deem it would be good for my son to have such a godfather as yourself as an example of real courage.’

Nicholas groaned. ‘You can’t really believe all that my brother has transcribed about me from my journals? I would that you didn’t set me up as some kind of hero as an example for Simon to follow.’

She remembered afresh their first meeting and chuckled. ‘I saw an example of your courage when you braved that cur with a broken arm to defend my James and so did he.’

‘That was not heroic. It was damn foolhardiness. I should have grabbed the boy’s hand and made a run for it.’

She shook her head. ‘I doubt it is in your nature not to make a fight of it when confronted with danger and you must have a certain amount of intelligence to have survived so many adventures.’

‘Good fortune had something to do with it, Jane,’ he said, cautiously attempting to move his injured shoulder, only to stifle a groan. ‘How about another brandy?’ he muttered.

She looked doubtful. ‘When did you last eat?’

‘Hours ago,’ he replied. ‘Although what has that to do with anything?’

‘Mmm! I suppose it won’t do you any harm to become a little intoxicated, but you’re going to have to rest that shoulder.’ She poured out two small brandies and picked up the thread of their conversation again as she handed one to him. ‘I would not deny that fortune plays its part in everyone’s lives.’ She sipped her own brandy cautiously. ‘Although some would say that it is by the grace of God and the prayers of the saints that good fortune also visits us.’

He tossed back his brandy before saying, ‘And when life takes a wrong turning do you see the hand of the Devil at work?’

‘I would rather not discuss ol’ Horny,’ she murmured, glancing at the children. ‘This wet nurse and the men who attacked you—do you think they will come here?’

Before he could reply they were interrupted by a knock on the door and Margaret hurried to open it. A tall and gangly youth with a shock of flaxen hair stood there.

‘Here’s Matt,’ said Jane, smiling and crooking her finger at the lad.

He came over to them, staring with open curiosity at Nicholas’s naked chest with its scars and the bandaging of his shoulder. ‘You wanted me, Master Hurst,’ he said, giving him a toothy grin.

‘Aye, lad. I want you to stable my horse,’ said Nicholas, ‘and, if you could feed and water him and brush him down and cover him with the blanket after doing so, I’d appreciate that.’ He reached for his money pouch and handed several coins to Matt.

The lad thanked him and was about to follow Margaret across the room towards the back of the house when Nicholas indicated he come closer. There ensued a low-voiced conversation between the two males.

Jane overheard but a few words as she emptied the bloodied wine into a slop bucket and so they made little sense to her. She burnt the rags on the fire and then washed her hands before taking up a ladle and stirring the contents of the cooking pot. By the time she returned to Nicholas’s side, Matt had left to perform his allotted tasks.

‘Sooo,’ she said slowly, picking up the goblet containing the remains of her brandy.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it, Jane? You have a question to ask me? I am also waiting for an answer to the one I asked you.’

‘What question was that?’ she queried.

‘The one you told me I had no business to ask. Does Master Mortimer want you for his wife?’

She sighed exasperatedly. ‘Do you not consider him a man who would respect the period of mourning that is customary in my case?’

‘So he has not yet asked you. Do you believe he might do so in the future?’

She hesitated and glanced at the children, not wanting them eavesdropping. Nicholas might not be speaking loudly, but even so she did not want the girls in particular overhearing such talk. ‘Why must you persist with such questioning?’

‘Because it has occurred to me that we could make a match of it,’ said Nicholas abruptly, remembering at least three women he had considered marrying in the past, only to discover other men had got there before him. ‘Marry me and I swear I will take care of you and the children. You will not have to worry about spinning and where your next penny is coming from if you accept my proposal.’

‘And who will take care of you, Master Hurst?’ she said faintly, unable to take her eyes from his bruised face. She might have dreamed of his making love to her and she had her hopes, but she had never believed he really could want to marry her. He might not be as handsome as his brother Philip, but she did find him incredibly attractive.

‘I will take care of myself, knowing I have a family dependent on me,’ he said seriously. ‘What do you say?’

She did not reply.

‘Mama, are you all right?’ Elizabeth’s voice seemed to be coming from a distance. ‘Is there anything more I can do to help you?’

Jane stammered, ‘G-go and see t-to the hens!’ She hoped her stepdaughter had not heard Nicholas’s proposal because she could not possibly accept. It was too soon after Simon’s death and she must honour his memory by adhering to the year of mourning. Besides, there was only one reason he could wish to marry her and that was unacceptable to her. He wanted a mother for Matilda. Yet she was finding it difficult to voice her refusal. She felt as if the intensity of his stare would burn through her clothing and skin to her heart and reveal to him the secret she carried within her. What would he think of her if he knew it? There had always been one rule for men and another for women.

‘Well, Jane?’ he demanded. ‘I mean what I say.’

‘Do not rush me,’ she said in a low voice.

‘You need a few more moments to think?’

‘Aye!’ retorted Jane. More than a few moments! Perhaps he wished to marry her for more than one reason and might want to truly adopt her little family? How clever he was to word his proposal in such a way.

She was reminded of a winter day when she had stood, shivering, outside a church. She had been seventeen to Simon’s forty-two years. He had told her to her face that he needed a mother for his daughters and was prepared to accept her without a dowry, her brother having mentioned that it was time she married. She had been glad at the time that Giles had not told Simon that she desperately needed to marry. She had felt terrible at the time. She had wanted to tell Simon Caldwell the truth, but it had taken more courage than she possessed.

It felt odd, thinking about how she had fallen madly in love with Willem Godar, not knowing he was already married. Strangely he, too, had Flemish blood just like the Hurst brothers, but he came from Kent. Once upon a time the very thought of Willem would have filled her with pain and anger, but gradually she had thought less and less about him.

Now Nicholas’s proposal reminded her of the foolishness and headiness of being a young girl and in love for the first time. What a fool love made of people. And what would Nicholas think of her if he were to discover the truth? No doubt he would be disgusted. She should be thankful that she was not in love with him, but only lusted after him. No longer in her first bloom of youth, she would not be fooled again by that treacherous emotion. As for Nicholas feeling such an emotion for her—it was not possible! She had never been what some would call desirable as Louise clearly had been, to judge by her daughter, so she could only believe that he wanted to marry her for exactly the same reason that Simon Caldwell had done. So far he had been too clever to say that he wanted to marry her so she could be a mother for his daughter, but she was certain that was the main factor in his proposing to her.

She did not utterly hold that against him and she would be lying to herself if she pretended that she would not enjoy being the wife of an heroic, rich explorer. Yet something inside her rebelled against the very idea that he saw in her only that maternal aspect of her femininity.

Yet if she turned down his proposal, no doubt there would be other women who would leap at the chance of becoming his wife. Oh, Holy Mother, she certainly did not want him marrying someone else! He would be such a catch for a woman in her position. So why be churlish and hesitate to give him the answer he obviously wanted?

‘What do you say, Jane?’ he rasped. ‘It is important that I have your answer now.’

His tone of voice stung her and she reached for the brandy and poured a little more in her cup and gulped it down. It gave her the courage to look him in the face. ‘You’re unreasonable,’ she gasped. ‘Expecting me to give you an answer just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I have already reminded you that I am still in mourning.’

His mouth set firm. ‘I have not forgotten! I was there with you the day your husband died.’

‘Then can you not be patient?’

‘Not when I am aware that Rebecca’s father is taking an interest in you. Now Berthe has betrayed me, I need a woman who will be part of Matilda’s life for as long as it is necessary, which made asking you to be my wife more difficult than you can ever understand.’ He seized her hand and pressed it against his bare chest. ‘Can you feel my heart beating? It took much for me to propose to you a few moments ago. I realise now that I made a mess of it. For that I ask your forgiveness.’

Chapter Three

Jane’s fingers shifted beneath his hand. It was true she could feel his heart pumping and it gave her a peculiar but exciting thrill to know that she could affect him in such a way.

‘This is foolishness,’ she said breathlessly, ‘and yet you are so clever. No doubt you are practised in the art of persuading women to do what you will. But how can you talk of marriage when you have only just arrived here, wounded and exhausted? Marriage is a serious matter and needs much consideration before a decision can be made.’

Nicholas gave her a weary look, but there was also a hint of bewilderment in his hazel eyes as he released her hand. ‘If there is one thing I have learnt on my travels it is that one has to seize the moment as it might never come again. Ask yourself a question: If I were to die, would you be filled with regret?’

She felt threatened again by the very idea of his dying. ‘How dare you ask me such a question? Most likely you have put it to me so as to rouse my pity because you are wounded.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Why should you die? I have tended your wound and I have a certain skill when it comes to healing. You must give me more time to consider your proposal. At least a month,’ she added wildly. ‘After all, you have been hit on the head and might not be in full possession of your wits. It could be that you will change your mind.’

He looked taken aback. ‘I assure you I am not out of my head. You’d be better accepting me this very moment. I cannot understand why you hesitate. I thought you a woman of sense. Am I so physically unattractive? Am I poor? No, I am well able to support you and the children in comfort. I have two houses and you can choose to live in both or either. You can throw out all the furniture and purchase new. You and the children will be able to dress in a grand style.’

She felt a flash of annoyance. ‘What is wrong with the garments we are wearing now? You think to persuade me with your wealth and your appearance. I tell you such things do not impress me.’

‘Which would make me admire you all the more, Jane, if I believed it to be true,’ said Nicholas with a wry smile.

His arrogance almost took her breath away. ‘How dare you,’ she cried. ‘I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth.’

‘Mama, you’re shouting,’ said Margaret.

Jane whirled round and stared at her stepdaughter. ‘Go and have your supper and serve the others,’ she snapped. ‘Master Hurst and I will eat later.’

Margaret nodded; her eyes were alight with interest as they darted from Jane’s face to that of their guest. ‘Master Hurst is not the last man on earth,’ she stated. ‘But if he were, it would be sensible of you to marry him.’

Jane barely managed to control her emotions. ‘You should not be listening. Go and have your supper,’ she repeated. ‘Now!’

The girl went.

Jane turned back to Nicholas, but this time she had the sense not to meet those eyes of his. ‘Now see what you’ve done?’ she whispered, dropping her gaze, only to find herself staring at his bare chest. The urge to touch it was overwhelming.

‘Consider the pleasure you’d have in choosing new materials and clothing yourself and the children in colours that lift the heart and spirits and made you want to dance and sing,’ whispered Nicholas insidiously, reaching for the brandy.

She placed a hand on the bottle. ‘I know why you are like this. You’re intoxicated.’

‘I deny that,’ he said, wrenching the bottle from her grasp.

She tried to wrestle it from him and managed it. She could not resist looking at him with a hint of triumph, only to see he was looking wan. Nevertheless he staggered to his feet and again her eyes were on a level with his chest. She could not have been more aware of his maleness at that moment than if her body had been joined to his. The mingled scents of sandalwood, salve, dried sweat and brandy filled her senses yet again and she had an urge to press her lips against his skin; her fingers wanted to twist the curls of his chest hair and hold tight. A shiver went through her as she recalled the ugliness of the wound she had just bound and she prayed that it would heal.

‘Forgive me, Jane, for teasing you,’ he said, lowering his head so that his lips touched her left ear. ‘Accept my proposal and I swear I will not rush you into marriage. I am persistent because I truly believe that we will be good for one another and the children.’

‘You are being presumptuous, Master Hurst,’ she said unevenly, unable to resist touching the spot that his lips had saluted, but she did not meet his gaze. ‘What does a man who has spent his life going hither and thither wherever he wished know about fatherhood and living in a family?’

He looked hurt. ‘Obviously you disapprove of my past way of life, but I can change.’

‘You believe I wish to change you?’ she found herself blurting out.

He looked surprised. ‘Aye, surely you would want me to stay at home with you and the children?’

‘I wonder if that would be expecting too much of you?’ she said frankly. ‘Despite your having the best of intentions. Tell me about your mother. What did she think about your travelling?’

He fell silent, gazing down at the graceful line of her neck as she placed the brandy bottle on the table. Then he took a deep breath and said, ‘I know she worried about me, but she never tried to persuade me from following my dream. She had imagination,’ he said softly. ‘She was the one we boys went to when Father was overbearing and gave us a beating. She encouraged Pip in his storytelling. I still miss her. One day I went away and when I returned she was no longer there. I’ll always regret...’ His voice trailed away.

But Jane could guess what he regretted and that he did not wish to speak of it, so she remained silent.

Nicholas kept his head down, blinking back tears. He felt Jane understood how he felt. If she did eventually accept his proposal, he believed that she would be an excellent mother and wife, faithful to him and caring of her children. But perhaps she was right and he would be unable to be either the husband she wanted or the father the children needed. He would fail them and they would turn against him. Suddenly that faintness he had experienced earlier came over him again and he staggered and caught his shoulder on a carved knob on the back of the chair. He gasped in pain.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jane, instantly going to his aid and helping him into the chair.

‘Brandy,’ he whispered.

She hesitated before saying, ‘Have you not had enough? I have a fear of drunkards.’

‘Do you want me screaming with pain, woman?’ he roused himself to ask savagely.

His tone of voice caused her to tremble. ‘I—I find it difficult to imagine you—you screaming, Master Hurst. You’re a hero. I have heard the truth from your own lips each time Rebecca told us a tale of your adventures.’

‘You should not believe all that you hear, Jane.’ His eyes darkened. ‘It was my brother’s intention that the readers of my first book believe me a hero when he edited my journal for the printing press.’

Jane sighed. ‘You would do well not to disillusion me if you wish me to marry you. The feminine within me demands heroics as well as dependability in a husband and father.’ Instead of brandy, she poured some of the elderflower wine into a goblet and handed it to him. He took it. She touched his shoulder lightly and felt a quiver run through him. ‘I have no wish to hurt you.’

‘I am relieved to hear it. I ask that your touch remains as gentle as possible even if you do not wish to be my wife.’ He grimaced and drank the wine down before resting his head against the back of the chair.