“Isabella.”
Another victory! She was allowing him to use her name. “Then let us prepare for our departure, Isabella.” He stood, his body aching from the awkward night atop a stool, not to mention the tightness of his braies. At least on the journey back to Winchelsea, he would be able to sleep in a hammock with the rest of his crew, away from temptation. He would leave the captain’s cabin to her and her sister, of course. “I need to wash and change my clothes before we depart. Since you are alreadydressed, perhaps you would like to break your fast before we leave and check that your sister is prepared to depart.”
She looked him up and down, and he prayed that his state of arousal wasn’t obvious to her, not that she would know what it meant. Still, after last night’s talk about marital relations, he certainly didn’t want that. At long last, she shrugged. “Meet me in the great hall once you have dressed, and don’t tarry. I wish to be gone from this place as soon as we can manage.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He swept into a deep bow.
With an eyeroll, she left the room.
As soon as she was gone, he stripped off the heavy wedding cotte and pulled off his shirt, walking over to the water pitcher and basin. A layer of ice had formed at the top of the pitcher, and he cracked it with his hand before pouring frigid water over his head. The combination of the water and the chill air on his chest did what he had hoped, and his arousal abated at last. Then he got out the sharp blade he used for shaving and removed the prickling hairs on his chin, leaving his upper lip alone. By the time he got back to Winchelsea, he would have his full mustache back, thank God.
He dressed hurriedly, donning a plain, linen undershirt and the practical, dark-blue wool cotte he wore for sailing. Then he packed his few belongings into his sea chest and flagged down a servant in the hallway to request that his chest and hers be taken down to his ship and that his crew be notified of their imminent departure.
That taken care of, he headed to the great hall for a quick bite before they set sail. Isabella was sitting with Adelaide in deep conversation. The earl sat alone, and the countess was nowhere to be seen.
“Come join me, my lord,” the earl said, beckoning.
Martin would rather not have, but he had little choice in the matter. Besides, if he was to leave Isabella free to annulthe wedding, he needed to plant the seed that they had not yet consummated. He’d already concocted an excuse to give the earl and countess.
“You’re still in one piece, so I take it the wedding night was a success?” his father-in-law asked, winking.
Ugh.What a way to treat his daughter. “It was, my lord. I didn’t touch her, and she didn’t kill me. I would call that a resounding success under the circumstances.”
The earl frowned. “You didn’t consummate? What are you playing at, man?”
“My family is very traditional, and they would prefer that we consummate upon reaching Winchelsea. They want to be fully assured of my bride’s virtue and that there is no risk to the succession.” Fortunately, the earl had no way of knowing how far that was from the truth.
Lord Ferdinand nodded. “I see. Very wise. And it gives you time to tame your tempestuous bride so that she’s obedient when the time comes.”
“Indeed,” Martin said with a thin smile. God’s bones, what a terrible father. Not that what he said was so very different from what most fathers would say. Martin was fully aware he’d had unusual parents. Still, hearing her father talk of taming her made his skin crawl.
To avoid further conversation, Martin turned his attention to the food before him, taking a large bite of bread and chasing it down with a swig of ale. He could do with a bit of fortification before taking to sea in this frigid clime.
As soon as he had eaten his fill, he stood. “My lord, I’m afraid we must be going. Thank you for the hospitality of your hall. We must take our leave.”
The earl stood and clapped him on the shoulder with manly bonhomie. “Best of luck to you. I’ve had my men load her dowryonto your ship. Feel free to check it and let me know if anything is amiss.”
The dowry was the last thing on his mind. Winchelsea was prosperous. What it needed was an intelligent baroness who could manage things while he sailed the seas to keep it that way. “Thank you, my lord. I’m sure everything is in order. Isabella,” he said, turning to his bride, “it is time for us to depart.”
She turned from her conversation with her sister and nodded. “Very well, my lord.”
Isabella and Adelaide stood and pulled thick shawls around their shoulders. Just as they were about to take their leave, their mother came sweeping in, descending on Isabella like a hawk on its prey. She dug a talon into Isabella’s shoulder.
“There was no blood on the sheets this morning. Have you shamed me, you worthless strumpet?” she hissed in her daughter’s ear just loud enough for Martin to overhear.
“No, my lady,” he said in a low, cold voice as he reached for Isabella. “We did not consummate the marriage last night. My family wishes for us to do so in Winchelsea. Isabella,” he said, pulling her up and away from her mother, “are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, thank you. Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Father,” she said, curtsying stiffly. Adelaide followed suit. It was more than those two wretches deserved, the way they treated their daughters. Isabella turned her back on them and linked arms with him and Adelaide, practically propelling them from the hall. “Let us be gone from this place,” she murmured to Martin as soon as they were out of earshot of her parents.
He led her out to the courtyard where horses were waiting for them, and they rode in silence down to the dock where his ship was moored, buffeted by freezing wind.
The Wind Songlooked slate gray in the morning light against a sea the color of pewter. The colorful shields adorningthe forecastle were mere shadows as milky wisps of fog curled around them. Its single mast pointed skyward, crossed by an enormous spar and crowned by the crow’s nest, nearly lost in the clouds. Martin could barely make out Will up there, awaiting orders to climb out onto the spar to unfurl the enormous rectangular sail stitched with the de Vere coat of arms. Poor Will must have been freezing. The sooner they set sail, the sooner the gangly youth could climb back down to the deck and warm himself.
Martin led Isabella and Adelaide up the wooden planks serving as a ramp, careful to ensure they kept their balance. Isabella ascended without difficulty and had no trouble keeping her balance on the swaying deck, even though Adelaide leaned on her at every step.
“You’ve traveled by ship before?” he asked.
“Many times,” Isabella answered, looking warily at the crew.
