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“Excellent. Thank you, sir,” said Rafael. He gave Mr. Pimberton a brief salute, took one last look at a now-stirring and moaning Johnny Tregonnet, and took his leave. As he walked out of the inn, he saw Damien riding his rawboned bay, coming from the opposite direction. “You will have an interesting time of it, brother,” he said quietly.
He now had no regrets that he’d threatened Johnny Tregonnet at the ball rather than pretending to be interested in joining his club. He was alert, ready, for he knew the Ram would have to do something.
22
Love is often a consequence of marriage.
—MOLIÈRE
Victoria sat patiently on the edge of Rafael’s bunk in the captain’s cabin, listening to Blick give his opinion to Rafael. “There’s not a thing I can do to prevent the muscles going into spasm. However, when it happens, there’s no reason for Victoria to have to endure the pain for so very long. Your idea of the hot towels is a good one, but still it takes time to get the muscles back under control.”
Rafael smiled at his wife. “Didn’t I tell you he would come up with something to help? Have you got an esoteric plant from, say, the southern coast of China?”
“Sorry, the West Indies. What I propose is that we use two plants together—the cheddah and the cawapate, both of which we can replenish from Martinique. Victoria, with the cheddah you will heat the leaves and use them as a compress. The cawapate you’ll use in tea. Now, there’s also another use for the cheddah. If Rafael here becomes a thorn in your side, you can mix some cheddah in his tea and he will, after some hours, end up with the most pristine innards imaginable.”
Rafael groaned. “I believe I will be the one to oversee the preparation of your concoctions, Blick.”
“Thank you,” Victoria said, giving Blick her hand as he rose to take his leave.
“My pleasure.” Blick took her slender fingers and smiled down at her. “It is also my pleasure to see Rafael so content. He’s traveled the seas, enjoyed enough adventure and danger for three men, and emerged whole-hide. He is fortunate, yes indeed. As are you, my dear. He is also a strong, honorable, kind man. I will see both of you at dinner.”
“I am content, Victoria,” said Rafael.
“Don’t be content yet, not until you tell me where you—the strong, honorable, kind man—were, and what you were doing. All of it now, Rafael.”
“You’re a hard woman, Victoria. Nothing for it, eh? Very well, I was involved in bringing things to a head. Hopefully. I found a note to Damien from Johnny Tregonnet—it was in the hidden passageway, in Damien’s black cloak.”
She nodded sadly. “Unfortunately, I’m not really surprised. So Damien is really involved with the Hellfire group?”
“Yes, he is.” Rafael sighed, and plowed his fingers through his hair. Hair on end, he proceeded to pour himself a brandy. “The group is headed by a man who calls himself the Ram. I can name you every one of the members; I could have done that at the ball after reacquainting myself with all the more objectionable fellows of my boyhood. I imagine you could have done the same. However, dammit, the Ram’s identity is unknown, even by the members. I have made well-placed threats. We will see what happens.”
“Where were you today?”
“At an inn called the Ostrich, meeting Johnny Tregonnet. I played Damien, and that is how I learned that no one knows the Ram’s identity. Damn and blast.”
“So,” Victoria said slowly, “it’s now the Ram’s move. What was your threat?”
“That I would destroy their filthy little club if I wasn’t allowed to join them. A lie, of course, and I wonder why I even bothered with it. The Ram certainly can’t be such a fool.”
She laid her hand lightly on his forearm. “Rafael, I trust you will be careful.”
“Didn’t Blick or Rollo tell you that I’m like the proverbial bad copper? I come skittering back, always. You, madam, will never be rid of me. Besides, you can be certain I shall be careful as a blind monk in a nunnery. I love my wife, you see, and she adores and worships me. Our life, with a modicum of good fortune, will be sweet.”
A slow smile sent the corners of Victoria’s mouth upward. “All that?”
“Yes, all that. Now, will you let me have my way with you? It has been an age, after all.”
She laughed. “Since last night?” Even as she spoke, she savored his words in her mind. He loved her.
“That long ago?”
“Yes.” He held her and kissed her, and she responded as she always did with him—immediately, utterly, and sweetly.
“Oh, Lord, Victoria, you’re a marvel,” he said, his hands cupping beneath her buttocks, drawing her up hard against him.
At nearly midnight, Rafael was still thinking she was a marvel. He was lying on his back in his bunk, Victoria curled up against his side. He smiled in the darkness, reveling in the fact that he had thoroughly and completely exhausted his young wife. She was limp and yielding and so very soft against him. Life, he silently agreed with himself, was sweet, and he trusted it would become even sweeter.
He wasn’t certain exactly when he’d given it up. But given it up he had. He was now, he supposed, becoming used to the jumble of feelings—some very calm and serene, others wild and frantic—but he accepted them, all of them, enjoying their flow through his mind and body. Holding Victoria, making love to her, fighting and laughing with her—why, they were experiences he wouldn’t trade for anything this earth had to offer him.
