“He must. It’s the only explanation for why he suddenly became more sympathetic to our cause.” Mary flopped back on the bed. “What do you think will happen to me in England?”
She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Perhaps we can find you a husband too.” Mary had been her companion for as long as Bridget could remember. Her mother had tolerated Mary, which Bridget hadn’t understood until she’d overheard the staff talking one day. The butler had insinuated that Mary was her father’s illegitimate daughter. It was then she realized Mary had the same red hair, the same green eyes, and the same cleft in her chin as her father. She bore all the physical resemblance to their father that Bridget lacked.
Mary shrugged. “What would I bring to the marriage table? Do you think your future husband will hire me?”
Bridget shook her head. “I’ll marry a kind man, Mary. He won’t hire you, he’ll help you find a life of your own. I promise.” Bridget knew the just the sort she was looking for. He was nothing like Captain Sinclair, that was for certain. He’d be kind, caring, and easily swayed to Bridget’s cause. She’d lived under a domineering man far too long. She needed a man who’d give her space to discover herself.
Mary nodded but looked to the wall rather than at Bridget. “We have to get to London first, I suppose.”
Bridget didn’t know what to say. Mary was right. Now wasn’t the time for promises. Pushing off the door, she attempted to rearrange their clothes to better dry. She’d have to be kinder to the captain. Mary’s fate, as well as hers, rested in his very large hands.
Chapter Four
Bridget stood on the deck of the boat, the wind biting into her skin, not that she cared. The sunset was breathtaking. It almost made her happy to be out on the ocean. She stood well back from the rail and kept her eyes on the sky.
She hated water. Her mother hadn’t taught her to swim, saying ladies of breeding generally didn’t partake in the activity. They’d once gone on a rare family picnic to the beach close to her home. Her father had attempted to call her into the water, but she’d refused. It was one of the few times he’d attempted to engage her, and the water as well as his sudden attention had frightened her. She’d c
lung to her mother, refusing his calls.
He’d grown outraged when he’d realized she didn’t know how to swim. Scottish children could swim, he’d declared. Then he dragged her into the water and tossed her in over her head. She’d nearly drowned getting back to where her feet could touch as her mother screamed helplessly from the shore. She could still remember the feel of the water over her head as she stared up at the blurry sky, helpless and afraid she’d never break the surface again.
When she’d finally dragged herself from the water, her father was gone, her mother sobbing on the edge of the shore. Bridget had collapsed into her arms, exhausted from the struggle.
That night, her mother had her third miscarriage. She’d heard her father roaring at the doctor and then at her mother. Bridget closed her eyes, the memories so painful. She hoped for the new Lady McDougal’s sake that she could provide a son.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” a deep voice rumbled behind her.
A protest rose to her lips but she pushed it back down. “My apologies, Captain.”
He stepped up behind her. “Matthew Sinclair. But my family calls me, Matt.”
The name suited him. Strong just like he was. “Well Matthew Sinclair, I will return to my room.” She made to step around him but he held up his hand. She stopped, the sight of his broad chest blocking her face making her stomach flop about in the strangest way.
“Since you’re here, I thought I would tell ye that after we deliver this load of cargo, we’ll pick up another to take to London. I’ve cleared it with Ship’s Master Hennessey. Ye and Mary may travel with us.”
Her breath caught and she stepped up to him, relief and excitement making her heart hammer in her chest. And apparently addle her brain, she’d nearly hugged him. She quickly stepped back again, her cheeks infusing with heat as she planted her arms firmly against her sides. “Thank you, Matthew.”
He gave a single nod. “On the way, we’ll stop in North Berwick. Ye’ll need some replacement items after the wreck.”
Her heart sank. He didn’t really understand how little love was shared between her and her father. “We can stop.” She looked back out at the sunset, just a sliver of the orange ball still showing in the sky. “But he won’t give me a thing and he won’t help you transport me either. He’s done with me.” She swallowed down a lump. “If that is a problem, tell me now. I can write to my aunt. She might send the funds for my passage at least and I could find another way to pay for Mary.”
“Yer aunt?” He asked quietly. His deep voice had a softness she hadn’t heard before and it was soothing. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sound washed over her.
“My mother’s sister. She’s taking me in and helping to secure my future.” Bridget stopped. She was saying too much. Her father had supplied a modest dowry and her aunt was taking some measure of those funds to live on. A payment for a service. She hoped there was enough but her father hadn’t disclosed the amount or how it would be delivered to her aunt. Did she have it already? Bridget hoped they could use a portion of the money to pay for this trip but every slice that was removed, well, it impacted her future and Mary’s.
He moved closer. She didn’t see him, but she felt his proximity. Heat seeped into her skin from his nearness and his warm breath blew across her cheek. She had the urge to press her face to his chest the way it had been yesterday. He’d sheltered from one storm could he protect her from another? “And she’ll pay for you? She has money?”
One of her shoulders rose up. She didn’t want to admit that her Aunt Mildred was caring for Bridget to secure her own future not out of a familial bond. “She has money for this.”
“Then why did ye offer to work?” His hand clasped her shoulder. The touch was light and warm, comforting. Shivers danced along her skin. She had to give him credit. He not only made her feel safe but excited.
“I,” she started. There was little point in lying, she supposed. Only her pride was at stake. Captain Sinclair, or rather Matthew, was a hard man, that was obvious, but he didn’t seem cruel. He wouldn’t hurt her if he knew how vulnerable she was would he? “She is caring for me in exchange for funds. Her husband passed and—”
“I see,” he said as his grip on her shoulder tightened. “So this money will come out of her funds or yours?”
“Mine,” she whispered. For some reason, it had become important that he not misunderstand. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I need to make a good match to a man who will not only care for me but who will help Mary. I thought to earn passage so that I had a dowry as large as possible.”
He drew in a long breath. “Let me escort you back to your room,” he murmured. Then his hand slipped about her shoulders, drawing her toward the hatch. “It’s cold on the deck.”