The Adventurer's Bride. June Francis

Three

      Jane’s fingers shifted beneath his hand. It was true she could feel his heart pumping and it gave her a peculiar but exciting thrill to know that she could affect him in such a way.

      ‘This is foolishness,’ she said breathlessly, ‘and yet you are so clever. No doubt you are practised in the art of persuading women to do what you will. But how can you talk of marriage when you have only just arrived here, wounded and exhausted? Marriage is a serious matter and needs much consideration before a decision can be made.’

      Nicholas gave her a weary look, but there was also a hint of bewilderment in his hazel eyes as he released her hand. ‘If there is one thing I have learnt on my travels it is that one has to seize the moment as it might never come again. Ask yourself a question: If I were to die, would you be filled with regret?’

      She felt threatened again by the very idea of his dying. ‘How dare you ask me such a question? Most likely you have put it to me so as to rouse my pity because you are wounded.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Why should you die? I have tended your wound and I have a certain skill when it comes to healing. You must give me more time to consider your proposal. At least a month,’ she added wildly. ‘After all, you have been hit on the head and might not be in full possession of your wits. It could be that you will change your mind.’

      He looked taken aback. ‘I assure you I am not out of my head. You’d be better accepting me this very moment. I cannot understand why you hesitate. I thought you a woman of sense. Am I so physically unattractive? Am I poor? No, I am well able to support you and the children in comfort. I have two houses and you can choose to live in both or either. You can throw out all the furniture and purchase new. You and the children will be able to dress in a grand style.’

      She felt a flash of annoyance. ‘What is wrong with the garments we are wearing now? You think to persuade me with your wealth and your appearance. I tell you such things do not impress me.’

      ‘Which would make me admire you all the more, Jane, if I believed it to be true,’ said Nicholas with a wry smile.

      His arrogance almost took her breath away. ‘How dare you,’ she cried. ‘I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth.’

      ‘Mama, you’re shouting,’ said Margaret.

      Jane whirled round and stared at her stepdaughter. ‘Go and have your supper and serve the others,’ she snapped. ‘Master Hurst and I will eat later.’

      Margaret nodded; her eyes were alight with interest as they darted from Jane’s face to that of their guest. ‘Master Hurst is not the last man on earth,’ she stated. ‘But if he were, it would be sensible of you to marry him.’

      Jane barely managed to control her emotions. ‘You should not be listening. Go and have your supper,’ she repeated. ‘Now!’

      The girl went.

      Jane turned back to Nicholas, but this time she had the sense not to meet those eyes of his. ‘Now see what you’ve done?’ she whispered, dropping her gaze, only to find herself staring at his bare chest. The urge to touch it was overwhelming.

      ‘Consider the pleasure you’d have in choosing new materials and clothing yourself and the children in colours that lift the heart and spirits and made you want to dance and sing,’ whispered Nicholas insidiously, reaching for the brandy.

      She placed a hand on the bottle. ‘I know why you are like this. You’re intoxicated.’

      ‘I deny that,’ he said, wrenching the bottle from her grasp.

      She tried to wrestle it from him and managed it. She could not resist looking at him with a hint of triumph, only to see he was looking wan. Nevertheless he staggered to his feet and again her eyes were on a level with his chest. She could not have been more aware of his maleness at that moment than if her body had been joined to his. The mingled scents of sandalwood, salve, dried sweat and brandy filled her senses yet again and she had an urge to press her lips against his skin; her fingers wanted to twist the curls of his chest hair and hold tight. A shiver went through her as she recalled the ugliness of the wound she had just bound and she prayed that it would heal.

      ‘Forgive me, Jane, for teasing you,’ he said, lowering his head so that his lips touched her left ear. ‘Accept my proposal and I swear I will not rush you into marriage. I am persistent because I truly believe that we will be good for one another and the children.’

      ‘You are being presumptuous, Master Hurst,’ she said unevenly, unable to resist touching the spot that his lips had saluted, but she did not meet his gaze. ‘What does a man who has spent his life going hither and thither wherever he wished know about fatherhood and living in a family?’

      He looked hurt. ‘Obviously you disapprove of my past way of life, but I can change.’

      ‘You believe I wish to change you?’ she found herself blurting out.

      He looked surprised. ‘Aye, surely you would want me to stay at home with you and the children?’

      ‘I wonder if that would be expecting too much of you?’ she said frankly. ‘Despite your having the best of intentions. Tell me about your mother. What did she think about your travelling?’

      He fell silent, gazing down at the graceful line of her neck as she placed the brandy bottle on the table. Then he took a deep breath and said, ‘I know she worried about me, but she never tried to persuade me from following my dream. She had imagination,’ he said softly. ‘She was the one we boys went to when Father was overbearing and gave us a beating. She encouraged Pip in his storytelling. I still miss her. One day I went away and when I returned she was no longer there. I’ll always regret...’ His voice trailed away.

      But Jane could guess what he regretted and that he did not wish to speak of it, so she remained silent.

      Nicholas kept his head down, blinking back tears. He felt Jane understood how he felt. If she did eventually accept his proposal, he believed that she would be an excellent mother and wife, faithful to him and caring of her children. But perhaps she was right and he would be unable to be either the husband she wanted or the father the children needed. He would fail them and they would turn against him. Suddenly that faintness he had experienced earlier came over him again and he staggered and caught his shoulder on a carved knob on the back of the chair. He gasped in pain.

      ‘Are you all right?’ asked Jane, instantly going to his aid and helping him into the chair.

      ‘Brandy,’ he whispered.

      She hesitated before saying, ‘Have you not had enough? I have a fear of drunkards.’

      ‘Do you want me screaming with pain, woman?’ he roused himself to ask savagely.

      His tone of voice caused her to tremble. ‘I—I find it difficult to imagine you—you screaming, Master Hurst. You’re a hero. I have heard the truth from your own lips each time Rebecca told us a tale of your adventures.’

      ‘You should not believe all that you hear, Jane.’ His eyes darkened. ‘It was my brother’s intention that the readers of my first book believe me a hero when he edited my journal for the printing press.’

      Jane sighed. ‘You would do well not to disillusion me if you wish me to marry you. The feminine within me demands heroics as well as dependability in a husband and father.’ Instead of brandy, she poured some of the elderflower wine into a goblet and handed it to him. He took it. She touched his shoulder lightly and felt a quiver run through him. ‘I have no wish to hurt you.’

      ‘I am relieved to hear it. I ask that your touch remains as gentle as possible even if you do not wish to be my wife.’ He grimaced and drank the wine down before resting his head against the back of the chair.

      ‘I will get you some food,’ she said.

      He thanked her and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that surely a sensible woman such as Jane would see the advantages of a match between them despite his shortcomings. Suddenly he felt incredibly