"That's no concern of yours, Captain."
"Oh, but it is," Henderson argued. "With your cousin dead, and no other relative here, I feel it's my duty to advise you. My interest is purely a fatherly one, I assure you. If Hunter is not your legal husband, then leave him now, my dear, and never admit to a soul that you knew him."
Beyond anger, Alanna spoke through clenched teeth. "Save your advice for the people who ask for it, Captain. Now must I summon several of your men myself? I want my cousin's coffin removed from this vessel immediately." To emphasize her demand, she picked up her valise and Elliott's, crossed the deck, and marched down the gangplank. When Hunter returned more than an hour later, he found her standing on the dock beside Elliott's coffin.
Anger was etched so clearly on Alanna's features, that he could not mistake her mood. "What happened?" he asked. "Why didn't you stay on board?"
"I'd rather not repeat the captain's insults. Were you able to book passage for us home?"
"Yes, but the ship doesn't sail until day after tomorrow. The coffin can be loaded now, and you and I can spend the next couple of nights at an inn. Now either you tell me what the captain said, or I'll confront him myself, but I'll not allow anyone to mistreat you."
Alanna just shook her head. "The matter isn't worth pursuing."
Unable to agree, Hunter kissed her cheek, then strode up the gangplank. The captain did not see him coming in time to flee to his cabin, but as Hunter approached him, he cast an anxious glance in that direction. The man's obvious fright made it plain he regretted whatever it was he had said to Alanna, and Hunter challenged him boldly.
"You owe my wife an apology."
Assuming the defiant young woman had recounted their conversation, Captain Henderson sought to bolster his courage by taking a deep breath, and exhaling slowly. In his view, his advice had been sound and, despite the obvious danger, he felt compelled to repeat it. "I mean no offense," he insisted, "but if you two are not legally wed, it would be a kindness for you to leave her now. All you'll ever bring her is shame, and if you truly love her, that's the last thing you'd ever want."
Hunter clenched his fists at his sides. He could have killed the captain with his bare hands, but knew that was no way to prove he was a fit husband for Alanna. "I am offended," he replied, "and so was my wife. Fortunately, we have far more generous natures than you, and we'll forgive you, this time. If we should ever travel on your barge again, remember, you'll not have a second chance to show us the respect you should."
Too frightened by that veiled threat to speak, Captain Henderson simply nodded.
Thoroughly disgusted, Hunter turned his back on him and rejoined Alanna on the dock. He had already arranged for a cart to transport the coffin; when it arrived, he helped the driver to load the long, pine crate and then took Alanna's arm. "Now we need to find an inn and a preacher. I want to marry you this afternoon."
Alanna was delighted by his plan, until she noticed it was hatred rather than love that lit his gaze. "We needn't wed to satisfy Captain Henderson's notion of propriety," she informed him. "We need only please ourselves."
She glanced away as though they were discussing a matter of little consequence, but Hunter knew otherwise. She did not want their children to be called bastards, and neither did he. "This has nothing to do with Henderson. I told you when we were still in the forest that I'd be proud to marry you. This is our first opportunity to do it. Have you changed your mind about being my wife?"
Alanna had just spent a miserable hour mulling over Captain Henderson's unwanted advice. She was well aware that marrying Hunter would make her an outcast, but after her family had been killed, that was all she had ever been. She had lived on the edge of her cousins' world, basked in the reflection of their happiness, but she had never really shared it. She had never felt as though she truly belonged. Only Hunter's love made her feel complete.
Alanna looked up at him. "More than one of my aunt and uncle's friends regarded me as unbalanced. I dare say there were times when my relatives must have agreed. If you don't mind having a wife who's the subject of such unfortunate rumors, then I certainly won't mind being married to you."
Relieved, Hunter wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug. "Come on, let's find someone to marry us first. If we stop at an inn on the way, we won't want to leave our room until our ship sails."
Understanding precisely what he meant, Alanna blushed prettily. She laced her fingers in his and, with a confident stride, accompan
ied him gladly.
Captain Henderson watched them depart. A cautious man, he was content commanding a boat on the Hudson and Mohawk rivers, rather than aspiring to long and dangerous voyages at sea. He avoided risks of all kinds, but as he watched the unlikely pair of lovers hurry off hand in hand, he could not help but feel a small twinge of envy at their devotion.
* * *
After a second minister declined to marry them because Hunter refused to even discuss converting to Christianity, Alanna and he were wed by a magistrate at city hall. The office where the ceremony was performed was small, dusty, and filled with clutter. The prescribed exchange of vows lacked even a hint of poetry, but the marriage was legal and duly recorded, which was enough to satisfy the requirements of the bride and groom.
Hunter had given Alanna a gold wedding band, and she turned it around her finger slowly, as he inquired about lodgings at the Lamp and Oil, which appeared to be a respectable inn. Clearly astonished when the Indian referred to his demure blond companion as his wife, the clerk shook his head regretfully, and swore in an embarrassed stutter that they had no rooms available. There were keys hanging on the wall behind the desk, but rather than argue, Hunter escorted Alanna back outside. It was getting late, and they were both tired.
"I think he was lying," Alanna said.
Speaking from past experience, Hunter agreed. "I know he was. After the trouble we had arranging a wedding, it shouldn't surprise me, but it did." There was another inn a few doors down on the opposite side of Pearl Street, and he gestured toward it. "Let's try over there, but this time I want you to go up to the clerk and ask for a room. Say your husband will arrive later. When I join you, it will be too late for him to object."
"We shouldn't have to deceive anyone to rent a room."
"No, we shouldn't," Hunter assured her. "But if it's either that or sleep on the street, which would you prefer?"
Alanna needed a moment to ponder the question. "It's a matter of principle," she argued.
Hunter shrugged. "Do you want to spend our wedding night on the street? There are plenty of sailors roaming about, so we'd probably attract quite a crowd."