The man gave a quick nod, turned on his heel and left.
Cullen listened to the man head back toward the galley till his footsteps faded in the massive ship’s hold. When he turned back to Willa, a genuine tell-tale smile quirked at the corners of her mouth and her eyes sparkled.
“His real name is Melatiah Popham, and of course, everyone aboard the ship has trouble pronouncing his name in full, so…”
“Everyone calls him ‘Poppy.’ But won’t he think it odd you already know his ship name since you’ve never supposedly sailed on theArethusayourself?”
“I think he’s just grateful that he’s still going to get his salve, whether it comes from ‘Wills,’ or ‘Willa.’”
Cullen nodded in agreement. She was probably right.
Willa sat on her cot, awkwardly adjusting her skirts, and leaned over to pour a cup of tea for Cullen before helping herself. He produced an elegant container from his rough sea bag and placed it next to the teapot. At the question in her eyes, he explained, “The Howick cook in London and Arnaud’s mother’s cook at Bellingham House in Hampshire. They make sure all of us are kept well supplied with ginger biscuits while we’re in port.”
“Poppy probably isn’t fooled,” Willa admitted with a sigh.
“You don’t know that…”
Willa cut him short. “The man suffers terribly from pain in his hands and fingers. He always came to me, that is Wills, for a balm. That’s why he lingered. He suspects something, but just needed reassurance that nothing will change.”
Willa secretly studied her husband above the rim of her steaming teacup while he fumbled to pry open the lid of the tin containing the ginger biscuits. She’d had lots of practice hiding her true feelings and keeping secrets. Many sailors on theArethusaover the years had smiled at her, or brushed their hands against hers while she tended them in the surgery.
When she was younger, there were a few who had been particularly kind and she’d imagined what it would be like to be the object of a man’s affection. But always, she’d snapped back to reality. Their kindness and affection had been directed at what they’d assumed was a young man.
Willa was no missish, ignorant young woman. She was well aware that love could take many forms aboard a ship. Even though the penalty for buggery was death, there were ways to avoid detection.
The man with whom she would be sharing close quarters for the next several years was like a new, unexplored country. She had no idea of how the intricate dance of courtship should proceed, but she did know one thing. She had no intention of allowing Dr. MacCloud’s dubious charms to cloud her good senses.
Although, she could see how other women might have succumbed to his blandishments. The soft green of his eyes darkened whenever he was intent on overcoming obstacles, like the tight lid on the biscuit tin. Or they could flash in warning, like the day before when he’d cajoled, argued, and then pried her away from her work as a groom at the inn’s stable.
His ginger hair curled down his neck and poked over his cravat. He was in need of a trim. She resolved she’d be his barber on the long sea trip ahead of them. The thought of running her fingers through his hair evoked a curious stab of need in the vicinity of her stomach, and lower. Now the silly man was trying to push off the lid with a small knife. She shook her head hard and demanded, “Give me that tin before you hurt yourself.”
Cullen considered arguing with his new “wife” about who was better able to pry off a biscuit tin lid, for God’s sakes. But then something in the snapping, direct stare in her gray eyes made him stop and hand over the damned tin.
What would his old mates in the squadron say if they knew he’d just lost the first battle of his marriage to this fiery lass just because she’d stared him down? She hadn’t even flirted and batted her sooty lashes. And…they were still no more intimate than casual acquaintances.
She grasped the top of the tin with long, slender fingers and expertly wiggled the lid from side to side until it popped off, and he caught it with one hand.
Cullen’s mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?”
“Practice,” she said, and pointed toward the surgery outside their quarters. “Some of the dried herbs we use are kept in air-tight tins. When my father requires something to treat a crew member I have to get it for him in a hurry.” She blinked, struggled against the moisture threatening to leak from her eyelids, and corrected herself. “When herequiredsomething,” she added, her tone more subdued.
“Your father was a ship’s physician for a long time, and he trained you well as his assistant. You don’t have to pretend or apologize to me, Willa.” He enfolded one of her hands between his two massive paws. “Your father has been gone only a few weeks. Ye must give yerself time to grieve, lass.” He nearly bit his tongue. He hated how he reverted to a Highlands brogue when he was emotional.
She pulled away as if scorched by his touch and rubbed at her eyes. “I know my duties and responsibilities. I’ll work at your side until we return to England.” She swiped at a stray tear on her cheek with her sleeve. “But after that, I’ll live my own life…without you.”
Cullen leaned back against the overly-small chair bolted to the floor of the surgery. He swept the hazy cobwebs of guilt from his mind and gave his “wife” a hard look. “I accept,” he said.
“You accept?” She gazed at him, a bewildered look in her eyes.
“Yes. I accept your challenge.” Cullen lunged forward in the uncomfortable chair and leaned into her space.
“Pah—you are an impossible man, a—a stubborn Scot.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
“I, Cullen MacCloud, wager you, Willa MacCloud, will not be able to resist my charms for the entire two years of our mission to St. Helena.”
“That is a preposterous wager. You will surely lose. We barely know each other, and my choices were rather limited when you crashed into the life I was settling into at the stable.”
“Willa, you are a beautiful woman. How long d’ye think ye could have pulled off that charade? How long would it have been before someone would have guessed yer secret and forced ye to dance to their tune?”
