And so Nick was pleasantly surprised when he arrived in the great cabin and Ashley was not present. But after he’d washed, shaved, and changed clothing, and she still had not made an appearance, he called Mr. Fellowes. The sailor had just explained about sending her to the carpenter when Nick heard the commotion. His gaze met Fellowes’s. “I think I hear her now, Mr. Fellowes.”
Indeed, she was swearing as skillfully as any sailor, and as he poked his head on deck from the ladderway, he saw she was surrounded by several sailors. Red, his bos’n, had her arms locked behind her back, and she was fighting for release. Nick saw nothing but another man’s hands on her and charged along the deck with an angry growl. The men stepped aside, and Red, seeing his captain’s look went slack. It earned him an elbow in the gut from Ashley.
“If you so much as dare touch her again, Mr. Red, I’ll feed you to the sharks in tiny pieces,” Nick threatened.
Red released her, and she stumbled forward. Nick glanced at her then looked more closely. Her dress was torn—well, more torn—her cheeks red, and her shoulders bore handprints. He took her elbow and pulled her close. He needed to touch her as much as he wanted to protect her. “What happened to you? Did he lay hands on you?”
Nick heard a loud sound and looked at Mr. Chante as the quartermaster cleared his throat. “Actually, I believe Mr. Johnson be the injured party, Cap’n.” Chante stepped aside and Nick noted the sailor on his knees, hunched over in pain.
“What happened?”
Johnson looked up. His lip was bleeding and he had what looked like claw marks on his cheek. “She attacked me!”
Nick looked at Ashley again. Her head was high, and her sea-green eyes challenged him to question her. Nick’s gaze lowered to the handprints on her shoulder again. “And this was unprovoked?”
“I didn’t do nothing. She came at me, the she-devil, and attacked me. Little bitch raked those—”
Nick had his hand around Johnson’s throat as he lifted the man off the ground and slammed him into the mizzenmast. “Take care to remember that is my wife you are speaking of.”
Johnson’s eyes bulged.
“Now, are you certain this is the story you wish to tell? She attacked you? Entirely unprovoked?”
Johnson began to nod, and Nick squeezed, narrowing his eyes. “I will not hesitate to keelhaul you if you lie.” Nick lowered Johnson and loosened his grip. “Care to try again?”
Johnson’s gaze was dark. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I might have surprised her, is all.”
Nick raised his brows.
“Captain,” Johnson said grudgingly.
“Surprised her,” Nick said, looking pointedly at the blood running down Johnson’s chin. “It looks like you were the one surprised.” He stepped back from the sailor and removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat. Nick made a show of wiping his hands. “Send him to the topmast and tie him there, Mr. Chante.”
“What?” Johnson screeched. “I didn’t do nothing! She’s the one that hit me.”
Nick didn’t glance at the man; he kept his gaze on Chante. Chante nodded, motioned to two sailors, and the men jumped to carry out the order. When Johnson was on the topmast, and his protests fading away, Nick met the eyes of every man on deck. Most of them had come to see what all the shouting was about, and those who weren’t present would be apprised by their friends who were.
“I didn’t think it necessary to say this, but in case anyone else has doubts, let me make it clear. The woman is mine. Touch her and you’ll wish for death. Johnson stays in the topmast for twenty-four hours. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain!” the crew chorused.
Nick strode away, anger coursing through him. He didn’t know where he was headed until he reached his cabin and found his cabin boy straightening up. “Out,” he barked. The boy jumped to obey. “Wait,” Nick said. “Where is my cravat?” If he was going to act like a prig, he wanted to look like one.
The woman is mine. Had he actually said that? Ashley was going to blister his ears the next time they were alone. He’d tell her he’d said it to protect her. That was partly true. He wouldn’t mention the other part, which was that he had come to think of her as his. When they’d rode away from Gretna Green, all he could think was how to be rid of her. He didn’t want a wife, but somehow over the past few days, he’d begun to think of her as Lady Nicholas. He’d looked at her and thought less of how he could rid himself of her and more about how he could make her his in more than name.
He dismissed his cabin boy again, and opened his wardrobe to peer in the mirror while he tied his cravat. He was finishing the simple knot when his door opened again. In the mirror, his gaze met Ashley’s. “I’ll be done in a moment and leave you to your solitude,” he said.
She nodded, closed the door behind her, and leaned on it. “Are you going somewhere that requires a cravat?”
“No harm in looking like the captain if I’m going to issue orders like the ones I did a moment ago.”
“You didn’t ask me what happened.”
He turned to her. “I know what happened. Johnson waited for an opportunity to get you alone and then tried to force himself on you. He didn’t expect you to fight back. I imagine the noise brought others, and they hauled you both on deck.”
“You don’t believe his story?”
Nick raised a brow. “You have your moments, but I’ve never known you to attack anyone—physically or verbally—without cause.”
