apart until they disembarked in Amsterdam was ridiculous. And, as she recalled now, hadn't he spoken of her as his "wife" to the ship's captain?
As she reached for the door, someone knocked. She threw it open, expecting Adrien, but it was a young sailor with a bowl of food. Very well, then, she'd eat first. The ship had begun to pitch and roll markedly--this North Sea crossing seemed every bit as rough as her trip across the Atlantic to England. She'd be the better for food in her stomach.
When Romell finally ventured from her cabin, she decided that Adrien was probably with the captain. She wished she had a less pungent cloak than the one she'd taken from Three Oaks, which now smelled of onions as well as its former owner. Wrapping the garment about her as protection against the cold sea wind, she sought out the captain.
The captain peered into her face curiously as he answered her question about Adrien.
"Why, ma'am, he did ask if I had a quill and ink he might use to write a letter. I had the boy show him to my cabin."
"I must see him."
"I'll take you there meself," the captain said gallantly, offering his arm. If he wondered at her urgency, he held his tongue.
Adrien was not in the captain's quarters. A piece of paper lay on a table, and Romell couldn't help but read the words scrawled halfway down the sheet. It was addressed to William, Adrien's half brother.
"... unhappy circumstances have forced me into an unexpected marriage. I would not otherwise need money, nor would I request of you that ..."
Romell turned quickly, bumping into the captain as she made for the door.
"Thank you," she managed to say to him. "I'll seek elsewhere."
She hurried to her own cabin, Adrien's words circling in her head. "Unhappy circumstance-- forced." Adrien didn't want to marry her. Adrien didn't love her, didn't want her, felt obligated to offer marriage because of what had happened. The lovemaking. Nothing of love in it. "Blind Desire." She should have known.
Romell's eyes swam with tears. She stumbled toward her bunk, threw herself across it and sobbed until she fell into an exhausted doze.
"Are you ill?" A man's voice. Adrien.
Romell sat up abruptly. A lantern flame glowed in the darkness of the cabin.
"I haven't been feeling so very well myself," Adrien said. "A rough crossing."
Romell stood up. She shivered in the chill as her cloak dropped to the floor, but when she stared into Adrien's blue eyes, anger kindled to warm her.
"There will be no need to send a letter to your brother," she said. "I have decided I don't care to marry you."
"You've decided--what are you talking about?"
"I won't marry you! Is that clear enough?"
He half smiled. "You have little choice, under the circumstances."
"I have all the choice I care to make. I refuse to be your wife. If it were possible, I'd wish never to see your face again." Romell put up her chin proudly. "Unfortunately, I must ask your help in finding my cousins since I don't know the Dutch language. Once I join them your 'unhappy circumstances' will be done with."
He stared a moment, then took a step toward her. "You had no right to read what I wrote to William."
She crossed her arms. "It was unintentional. I'm not a puss-pry. Perhaps you shouldn't have left the letter exposed to all eyes in a cabin not your own."
"Damn! I was taken ill. Do you dare to justify—?"
"Don't you swear at me! Please leave my cabin. We have nothing more to discuss."
He glared at her, the lantern glow shadowing his face so that he suddenly seemed truly a stranger. He reached out to grasp her shoulders. She shrank away but came up against the bunk.
"You're naught but a damn little fool," he told her, shaking her as he spoke.
Romell twisted under his hands, struggled to strike back at him, but he pulled her close to him, holding her so she couldn't move, her head against his chest. She heard the rapid beat of his heart and, for a second, she melted against him.
No!
Romell jerked away. "Don't