“I can see why,” he said, warming at her kind words despite the icy wind. Perhaps he was making more progress than he thought. But he wouldn’t push his luck. It was time to retreat. “If there is nothing else, I must take my leave.”
He kissed Isabella’s gloved hand, and she didn’t shrink away. As he headed toward Ulf, he smiled to himself. She would be his before they landed at Winchelsea, he was certain. He looked up and saw gathering clouds in the gray sky, which immediately dampened his mood. Perhaps it would not be smooth sailing after all.
Chapter Seven
The man rana tight ship, Isabella thought to herself as she stood in the shelter of the forecastle watching the sailors go about their business. The wind was vicious, but she couldn’t bring herself to go below where there was nothing to do but wait. She sent Adelaide back down to the cabin to keep warm. It wouldn’t do for her to risk her health, despite her obvious curiosity about everything happening around her. But there was a great deal Isabella needed to think through, and it was easier to keep a clear head out in the open than down in the dim cabin with her sister where the walls seemed to close in around them.
But as she tried to focus her mind on her future and how she would keep Adelaide out of Lady Eleanor’s clutches, she couldn’t help watching as everyone on the ship went about their business. They moved with the ease and familiarity of an experienced crew, and she could swear it made Martin’s effortless air of command make him seem several inches taller. He was in his element, and she couldn’t help but be impressed by his skill and authority. It was a very different side of him than she had seen to date.
But she couldn’t let herself get distracted from the task ahead. She had one husband to get rid of and another husband to convince to marry her. Perhaps she could get Martin to stop at Yarmouth on the way south. That was part of the Earl of Norfolk’s territory, and she was certain she could find a wayto make contact. She’d met Lord Christopher, the local baron, on several occasions, and she was certain he would pass along a message to his liege lord. Maybe she could even aggravate Martin so much that he would leave her behind in Yarmouth. But what was the best way to irritate her husband? He seemed to be so much better at irritating her than the other way around.
She fixed her gaze on the horizon and opened her ears, listening for any tidbit from his men that might help her. Listening without appearing to do so was a longtime habit, honed over years with her mother, followed by years at court. She had an instinct for picking out the most useful pieces of information from an ocean of irrelevant blather. It was like fishing with a net. Irrelevant words streamed through, but the important ones were trapped until she could examine their meaning at length. That was the true art—crafting conclusions from the flotsam and jetsam.
Focusing in on two men swabbing the deck of the forecastle, she overheard, “Thank God we’re headed home. It’s colder than a witch’s titty up here. I can’t wait to get home to my Flora and sit in front of a roaring fire with a tankard of ale. She’ll warm me up good and proper, if you know what I mean.”
“Aye,” said the other man. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of female companionship myself. I tried to find a willing wench up at the castle, but they were all gave me the cold shoulder.”
“It’s because you stink like week-old fish, you manky bilge rat.”
Nothing useful to be learned there. Isabella turned her attention to three men gathered on the forecastle, looking over a chart, glancing at them only briefly before directing her gaze out to sea once again.
“I still think we should sail straight to Winchelsea without stopping,” said the first man.
“But his lordship wants fresh food for the ladies,” said a second man. “You know how picky females can be. Can’t exactly feed them salt pork and hard biscuits.”
Now,thatwas promising. Perhaps she could get him to stop at Yarmouth by demanding particular foodstuffs.
“I’m with Ned,” said the third man. “The sooner we get to Winchelsea, the better. It’s bad luck having women on board a ship.”
Even better. She could definitely make something of their superstition about women and ships.
Unfortunately, at that moment, it began to drizzle, forcing Isabella belowdecks. As she entered the cabin, she saw her sister sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Her face was pale and sweaty.
“I don’t feel so good,” Adelaide said, then clamped her hand over her mouth and convulsed.
“Come,” Isabella said, holding out her hand. “You need some fresh air, even if it is raining up there.”
She pulled her sister briskly out the door and up the stairs to the deck, getting her to the rail just in time for Adelaide to vomit over the side.Oh dear.This was going to be a very long journey if Adelaide couldn’t tolerate being on a ship. Isabella rubbed her lower back and made soothing sounds as her sister retched again.
Martin came running over. “Seasickness?” he asked Isabella. Adelaide wasn’t in any state to answer for herself.
Isabella nodded.
“I have ginger biscuits that will help calm her belly, and I have a sleeping draught that can help her sleep off the worst of it.”
Did she dare entrust her sister’s health to this man?
But then, what choice did she have?
“I appreciate anything you can do to ease her suffering.”
Their gazes connected for a moment, and all she saw was kindness and concern. Gone was the pompous coxcomb who had sparred with her nearly every time they spoke. Who was Lord Martin really, underneath all the bluster? Most men she’d known did not improve on acquaintance, but perhaps this one was different.
She shook herself and looked up at the dismal sky, not wanting to pursue that line of thought. He was still sent by Lady Eleanor and therefore not to be trusted.
Martin followed her gaze. “Yes, I wish I could do something about the weather, but alas, that is not within my control. Blue skies are rare as rubies this far north at this time of the year. I’m afraid we’re in for rough weather and choppy seas these next few days.”
He turned back to look at her as Adelaide retched once again. “I’ll go get those biscuits and the sleeping draught and meet you in the cabin.”
