“Your wish is my command sweetheart,” he replied with a bow.
Rafe’scheerful mood continued on the ride to Calais. Alix closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, but her mind was far from restful. He seemed to take the fact that they’d made love as his due, but it was turning her world upside down. Of course, she thought to herself, he probably made love to women all the time. Why, for all she knew, he had scores of women strewn between Paris and London.
What could she have been thinking, she asked herself repeatedly. And each time the answer came back the same. She hadn’t been thinking, she’d simply let herself feel; but what now?We’ll go into this with our eyes open, he’d said last night. What had he meant by that? Had he been trying to tell her it was a moment of passion or something more?
Alix fluttered her eyes open and peeked at him. Rafe kissed the top of her head, smiling. “Go back to sleep sweetheart, we’ve another hour to go.”
They’d consummated the marriage. Did that mean he would expect her to stay with him when they arrived in England? She hadn’t thought about staying with Rafe. Shehadn’t allowed herself to think about it, and now, truth be told, she didn’t know. She did know that she’d felt drawn to him since the first moment they’d met and that last night lying in his arms had felt wonderful and right.
Alix tossed and turned in the coach seat, and when Rafe put out a hand to calm her, she allowed herself to imagine life with him, the wife of a simple, but clearly comfortable cloth merchant. It would be different from marriage among the nobility, she thought, simpler. It wouldn’t be a contract between families for the purpose of begetting suitable heirs, it would be a friendship, a partnership. She smiled as she thought of their night together. It would be a marriage without separate beds or separate homes, a union based on understanding and trust.
They reached Calais toward late afternoon, and when Rafe discovered Alix had never been to a seaport, much less traveled onboard ship, he insisted that she walk with him about the town. He bought her licorice water and tucking her hand under his arm, strolled with along the streets leading down to the waterfront. There was a cool breeze and a tang of salt in the air and Alix found herself relaxing in spite of her concerns about the days ahead.
She was savoring the last sweet taste of her drink when Rafe suddenly stopped in front of a small jewelry shop. “Let’s step in here for a moment,” he said. Feeling as awkward as if he’d led her into a corset shop, Alix wandered a bit away from him admiring the shop’s wares while he conversed in low tones with the jeweler. The jeweler brought out a tray of thin gold chains and Rafe selected and paid for one.
As soon as they stepped outside the shop, he pressed a soft leather sack she knew contained the chain into her hand. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your wedding band since it’s much too large for your hand, so I thought you might keep it on this.”
Alix thanked him, threading the gold chain through the massive signet ring. She lifted her hair so he could fasten it round her neck. As the ring settled smooth and cool between her breasts, she found herself wishing he had said something more. Was he simply trying to prevent her from losing a valuable family heirloom or trying to tell her something else?
Alexandre Charlotte, you’re behaving like a feather-headed woman, she heard her father’s voice say in her head. You’ve given him your body and now you’re offering him your heart, she scolded herself as they turned on to a much broader street filled with the traffic of wagons and carriages. She needed to take things slowly and carefully, to stop trying to read something into his every word and gesture. Surely then, she told herself, if she kept her eyes open, she would understand what she needed to do.
As they reached the docks, the sights, sounds, and smells of Calais overwhelmed her internal debate. Piled high all around were containers of every size and kind imaginable, barrels, crates, urns, canvas-wrapped bundles, and trunks. Standing about them, lifting, loading, and arguing were an amazing assortment of people: burly fishwives with baskets on their head; ragged sailors with woolen caps; officers in glittering uniforms; a group of dusky-skinned men in crisp white turbans.
Countless aromas competed for attention: salt water and rotting fish; fresh cut timber and tar; spices, and sun-dried horse droppings. And just beyond the wharves, a sea of masts and square-rigged sails, flapping and swaying in the wind. Rafe, his eyes as sparkling as the sun on the waves, raised his voice above the din to point out the different types of ships lying at anchor. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Alix found herself captivated by his descriptions of barques, brigs and snows, topsails and mainsails, mizzenmasts and jibs.
She turned to him smiling. “Rafe Harcrest, it’s wonderful, but I’m sure I’ll never be able to keep them all straight. Just tell me which one is theXanthus.”
He pointed. “It’s that three-masted barque there with the British flag, the one with all its sails furled except the triangular after sail.” Alix squinted. “It’s right between the four-masted barque flying the white flag with the red cross of Malta, and the ship that’s having its masts repaired. See that boat loaded with the long timbers tied up next to it?”
Alix cupped her hands over her eyes and looked again where he was pointing. “I see it. It looks so much smaller than the other ships,” she said, a note of doubt creeping into her voice.
“Smaller, but just as safe and faster. Williams is a fine captain, been sailing since he was a cabin boy. Nowadays he mostly delivers cargo and mail between England and France. He doesn’t usually take passengers, but we’ve known each other for a long time. He usually finds a space for me. But I warn you, it won’t be luxurious.”
Alix eyed the ship skeptically. “Just so long as it gets us to England without swimming.”
Later that evening,just after sunset. Captain Williams hung a series of ball lights from the mainmast, signaling that he was making ready to leave, and they should come aboard. A longboat rowed them out to theXanthus, making its way carefully between the other ships swaying back and forth at their moorings. When they reached the ship, a sailor, his hair tucked up in a dark woolen cap, leaned down and called, “Beggin’ your pardon my lord, would her ladyship be using a ladder or would she like the chair?”
As she pretended to listen to Rafe’s translation of the English into French, Alix pondered which would be worse, to be raised by a series of ropes fastened to a chair up andover the side of the ship, or to brave the rope ladder fastened to its side. Concluding that with the ladder, her fate would at least be in her own hands, she answered Rafe.
He cocked an eyebrow, murmuring softly. “I should have known you’d choose the hard way. You go first and I’ll follow in case you should find yourself in need of assistance.”
Alix didn’t respond, but as she clutched the thick rope sides of the ladder, her skirts billowing out past the thin wooden planks, she found it reassuring to know that Rafe was there to catch her if she fell.
When they were all safely on deck, she saw that half the crew was clambering about the rigging, loosening the huge triangular sails so that they could catch the wind. The captain inclined his head. “If you like, my lord, there’s a nice spot near the stern where you and her ladyship can watch us prepare to sail.”
Rafe nodded, smiling. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll stay out of the crew’s way.”
As they stood watching the great sails fill with wind, Jervis sauntered up. Nodding at Alix, he turned smiling to Rafe and said in English. “Well my lord, it looks like we’re on our way.” He inhaled, his long nose almost seeming to twitch. “Never thought I’d be so pleased to smell salt air. The wind seems to be blowing in the right direction. Looks like I’ll be raising a pint in England tomorrow.”
Rafe laughed. “You’ve earned it, my friend, but I’ve a few more things for you to do before you wander off to a tavern.”
Jervis nodded. “Will you be wanting me to tell Ferguson to get off his starchy arse and open up the house in town, or will your lordship be heading straight for the hall?”
“I think we’ll stay in town for a bit.” He inclined hishead slightly towards Alix. “I daresay her ladyship will require more than a traveling gown.”
Studying the activity in the rigging above, Jervis said, “You told her yet that you’re a tad above an English silk merchant?”
“I’m waiting for the right time.”
