She gave her concentration to eating.
After filling a basin with warm water, Clay took a cloth and began washing the cut on her thigh. He was bending over her when the door opened.
“Mr. Clay, where have you been all night, and what are you doin’ in my kitchen? You know I don’t like things like that goin’ on.”
The last thing Clay needed was another lecture from a woman who worked for him. His ears were still ringing from Janie’s tirade. She’d screamed at him for a solid hour because he’d been writing a letter of explanation to Bianca to be sent on the frigate that was just leaving while Nicole was lost in the woods.
“Maggie, this is my…wife.” It was the first time he’d said the words.
“Oh,” Maggie grinned. “Is this the one Janie said you lost?”
“Go back to bed, Maggie,” Clay said with great patience.
Nicole turned around and looked at the large woman. “Bonjour, madame,” she said, and raised her piece of bread in salute.
“Don’t she speak English?” Maggie asked in a stage whisper.
“No, I doesn’t,” Nicole said, her back to Maggie but her big brown eyes flashing.
Clay stood up and gave a look of warning to Nicole before taking Maggie’s arm and leading her to the door. “Go back to bed. I’ll take care of her. I assure you I am quite capable of doing so.”
“You sure are! Whatever language she talks, she looks about as happy as any woman can get.”
A glare from Clay made Maggie leave the kitchen, and he went back to Nicole.
“I guess we are married, aren’t we?” she said as she licked the last of the butter from her fingers. “Do you think I look happy?”
He stood up, emptied the dirty water into a wooden bucket, and refilled the basin. “Most drunks are happy.” He began again on her thigh.
Nicole touched his hair, and he lifted his head to look at her for a moment before bending again to his work. “I’m sorry you didn’t get who you wanted,” she said quietly. “I didn’t really do it on purpose. I tried to get the captain to turn around, but he wouldn’t.”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. Janie told me everything. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to a judge, and you’ll be able to go home again very soon.”
“Home,” she whispered. “Those men burned my home.” She stopped and looked around her. “Is this your home?”
He straightened. “Part of it.”
“Are you rich?”
“No. Are you?”
“No.” She smiled at him, but he turned away to get a skillet from the side wall of the enormous fireplace. Quietly, she watched as he melted butter in the skillet and fried half a dozen eggs, putting another skillet into the fire and adding several slices of ham. Buttered bread went onto a griddle.
Within minutes, he set a long platter of hot, steaming food beside her on the table.
“I don’t believe I can eat all that,” she said solemnly.
“Then maybe I can help you. I missed supper.” Lifting her, he set her in a chair before the table.
“Did you miss it because of me?”
“No, because of me and my temper,” he said as he dished out a plate of ham and eggs for her.
“You do have a terrible temper, don’t you? You said some very unkind things to me.”
“Eat!” he commanded.
The eggs were delicious. “You did say one nice thing,” she smiled dreamily. “You said I know how to greet a man. That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”