Irish Linen Page 3

  She blinked. “Because the cloak belongs to you … to your—”

  “I think it looks better on you than it would on me.” To her amazement, a smile curved his sensual lips.

  She found herself unable to resist his smile. “Yes, well …”

  “Your gown is dry?”

  She shook her head.

  “Take the cloak, Meghan. It’s yours to keep. I told you my sister doesn’t need it.”

  She gaped at him in shock. “You’re giving it to me?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?” She was overwhelmed; she’d never met anyone so generous to her before.

  Her face flamed as Lucas looked down at the woolen garment in her arms. Her back stiffened. “I don’t need your charity.” She set the cloak on the bunk.

  Lucas softened his expression as he met her gaze. “I bought the cloak for my sister. She has more clothes than she can wear in a month. She doesn’t need it. You do.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue.

  “Please.” He picked up the garment. “Let me be chivalrous for once, will you? I usually make a poor knight in shining armor, Irish. The least you can do is accept my gift.” His smile was coaxing. “As thanks for slaying Dragon Fellows?”

  “But—”

  He captured her hand and gave her the cloak. “Take it, Meghan.” Her fingers felt small and fragile within his grasp.

  “Aye,” she whispered, pulling her hand from his grip. “I’ll keep it.”

  He grinned. “Thank you.”

  She shook her head as if she didn’t understand his generosity.

  “Now about Fellows …” he began. He’d thought long and hard on this, and after his meeting with the captain, he’d realized that there was nothing else to do.

  Caution entered Meghan’s blue gaze. Could he blame her? “Meghan, there’s only one way I know, for certain, to ensure your protection,” he continued. “As I mentioned before, Ned Fellows is just one of many. I think we should continue to pretend we’re betrothed.”

  Surprise flickered in her expression. “You would do that for me?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the only way—”

  ‘No, why would ye help a stranger? Ye said ye make a poor knight, didn’t ye?”

  “Yes,” he admitted slowly. How could he explain why he wanted—needed—to help her, when he didn’t understand it himself?

  She moved away, looking confused. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He smiled and gestured to the chair. “Why don’t you sit down, and we can discuss what to do next.”

  She obeyed. “Mr. Ridgely—”

  “Lucas.”

  “L-Lucas,” she said, sounding breathless. “Ye mustn’t concern yourself with me welfare. I’ll be all right.”

  He scowled. “I told not just one, but two of the chief officers on this ship that we are engaged. I can hardly claim otherwise now, can I?”

  She blinked up at him with innocence, and he stifled his irritation. “I do appreciate your help …” she said.

  “But?” He raised an eyebrow.

  She looked startled. “Two officers?”

  “I spoke with the captain.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes, it does change things.”

  A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I’m sharing a cabin with three other women. How am I to suddenly explain the appearance of me fiancé?”

  “You’re sharing a cabin,” he echoed. “Excellent!” He grinned. He’d been afraid she was quartered in steerage with many of the other Irish immigrants. How could he explain away his fiancée staying in such lesser conditions than he would live in himself?

  She studied him as if he’d gone mad. “I don’t believe ye understand.”

  He saw with surprise the beauty of her blue eyes. Large and thickly lashed, they seemed to draw him into their bright depths. She appeared so much the better for having rested. Why, she’s actually quite lovely!

  “No, Meghan, I think it’s you who don’t understand.” He regarded her with a smile. “We couldn’t very well convince the mate you’re my betrothed if you’re traveling in steerage.”

  She glared at him, but when he refused to look away, she averted her glance. “Da was in steerage,” she mumbled.

  Lucas perked up. “Your father’s on board the ship?” He sat down on one end of his sea chest, watching her shake her head and stare off into space.

  “Me father is dead. Buried at sea early this mornin’.”

  He felt a rush of pity for her. “I’m sorry.” That explained why she was wandering the deck alone.

  “You said there were three other women in your cabin,” he then said. “None of them are family,” he guessed aloud. “Close friends?”

  Meghan met his gaze with a half smile. “As close as one can get from living with strangers for nine days.”

  The slight curve of her lips transformed her features, making her appear beautiful. His breath caught. What would it be like if she grinned … or laughed with pure enjoyment?

  But then what enjoyment could this Irishwoman have had in her rough, young life?

  Lucas returned her smile. “Tell me about them,” he encouraged.”

  “Why do ye want to know?” Her blue eyes regarded him warily again.

  “Because I should know who is sleeping with my fiancee.”

  She gasped. “Mr. Rid—Lucas,” she corrected after he shot her a look. “Did ye honestly believe this is necessary?”

  Lucas loved her accent, the way she pronounced her r’s and her husky tone as she said his name. It was important for him to convince her that she needed to keep up the pretense of their betrothal. For some reason, her safety had become vital to him.

  He reached across the distance that separated them to capture her hands. Cradling her small wrists within his grasp, he searched her expression. “I’ll not hurt you, Irish,” he said softly. “Play my fiancee until we reach American soil, and you’ll be safe from men like Ned Fellows.”

  She closed her eyes. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until she raised her thick lashes and nodded. “ ‘Tis the right thing to do, I’m supposing.”

  Relaxing with relief, he inclined his head. “It’s the only way.” He released her hands and stood. “Now, Irish, tell me about your cabin mates.”

  When Meghan entered her cabin a short time later, her cabin mates greeted her with exclamations of concern.

  “Meghan, dearie, we’d feared something dreadful had happened to ye.” The oldest woman, Mrs. Finn, looked relieved to see her.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Finn,” Meghan replied with a smile. “I was spending time with me … betrothed.” She braced herself for what was to follow.

  “What!”

  ‘Your betrothed?”

  “He’s here—on the ship! Why didn’t ye tell us?”

  Bombarded by questions, Meghan raised her hand to halt the questions as she sat on her bunk. She felt both physically and emotionally drained after her experience. Rest, she knew, would be a long time in coming this night. Patiently, she told the tale that she and Lucas had concocted between them before she left him, and as expected, the story only heightened, not satisfied, her cabin mates’ curiosity.

  “Who is he?” Mary Beth asked.

  “An American,” Meghan replied.

  “Where did ye meet?”

  “Da and I met him in Dublin.” She didn’t meet anyone’s gaze directly for fear that they would see that she was lying.

  The questions continued, and she answered each one mechanically, her head reeling from the day’s events.

  “Is he handsome?” Bridget said.

  She felt her cheeks warm. “Aye.”

  “Strong?”

  She blinked and nearly choked as she answered. “Aye.”

  Her gaze encountered Mrs. Finn’s odd glance, and she looked away, suddenly recalling the day she’d confided in the older woman. I told her about Rafferty, she realized
with dismay. But did I mention his name? Flustered, she wondered what to do and decided to continue the charade.

  “He gave ye that cloak?”

  “Aye.”

  As Mary Beth and Bridget exclaimed with awe, Meghan fought impatience. She was tired of all their questions.

  “When?” Mary Beth asked.

  “What did he say when he gave it to ye?” Bridget said.

  “Lasses!” Mrs. Finn suddenly exclaimed. ‘There’ll be plenty of time to talk with Meghan later. Can’t ye see that the child is swaying on her feet?”

  “But—”

  “Bridget Cleary.” Mrs. Finn used the tone of voice that no one would dare to argue with.

  Meghan searched the woman’s expression; and relief stole over her, uncoiling tense muscles. Mrs. Finn might be skeptical, but she wasn’t going to say a word.

  “Why didn’t Meghan tell us about him?” Mary Beth said.

  “Meghan and her betrothed had their reasons for keeping their relationship a secret. Tis late, and the girl obviously needs her rest. Have ye forgotten how Meghan began her day?”

  “Aye,” Mary Beth said as Meghan stood and began to undress. “I’m sorry, Meg.”

  Meghan laid the gown on the end of the bunk and pulled on her only nightdress.

  “Aye,” Bridget mumbled. “Me, too.”

  Mrs. Finn raised the coverlet on Meghan’s bunk and gestured for her to lie down. “In ye go, Meghan me girl.”

  She curled into bed, grateful for the respite. “Thank ye,” she murmured to the older woman.

  Mrs. Finn nodded and lowered the light of the wall lamp until the small cabin was lit by only a muted glow. After a time, the chatter of her cabin mates died down, and the only sound Meghan heard was the creak of the ship’s hull and the breathing noises made by sleeping women.

  What strange act of fate had made Lucas Ridgely her rescuer?

  She thought of Ned Fellows and shuddered. Lucas was right; Fellows would be after her again if the mate realized that Lucas had lied about their betrothal.

  Chilled, Meghan rubbed her arms and then rolled over, drawing the blanket up over her shoulders to keep warm. She closed her eyes and saw Lucas’s face, and relived the moment he’d come to rescue her.

  She sighed. It would be all right, she thought. With Lucas’s help, she would evade men like Ned Fellows. Soon, she’d be in the United States, and the danger of Ned Fellows would be over. She’d be with her real fiance—Rafferty O’Connor.

  Meghan tried to conjure up Rafferty’s image, but the vision of Lucas kept interfering, consuming her. Then, she thought of Da and how much she missed him. The pain was like a raw wound, and she lay awake, recalling the good times, the happy times, when both her father and mother were alive. When her mother had died, Da had been devastated, but he’d quickly taken control of his grief in order to help his little girl.

  Meghan was awakened by the ringing of the ship’s bells, signaling the start of the morning watch. Sometime during the night, exhaustion had taken hold and she’d fallen asleep. She opened her eyes and thought of Lucas. “Will I see him today?”

  She felt a little thrill. She knew that because of their fake betrothal, she most definitely would. And she was pleased.

  Four

  “Ye’re finally awake,” Mrs. Finn said, startling Meghan. The woman sat on the bunk built into the bulkhead on the opposite side of the cabin.

  Meghan climbed out of bed and started to dress. “Did ye think I was to sleep the day away?” She frowned. “Where are Bridget and Mary Beth?”

  “I finally convinced Bridget to go above. Mary Beth is with her.”

  Fear squeezed Meghan’s chest as she sat on her bunk. “Are they alone?”

  “They’re safe enough. Me late husband’s brother is with ‘em.” The woman stared at Meghan with concern. “What’s wrong, Meg? What happened to ye last night?”

  Meghan looked away. “Nothing.” She stroked the fabric of her new green cloak, recalling the tenderness of the man who’d given it to her. “I met up with me intended is all.”

  “Meggie girl, how can that be? I thought you were going to your man in America?”

  Blast Mrs. Finn for remembering, Meghan thought. “Aye, it was said so,” she admitted. “We didn’t want anyone to know about us. We wanted to keep our betrothal a secret until we met with his family. But when Da passed away …”

  “Will we be meeting him?” Mrs. Finn’s gaze was speculative.

  “Oh, aye.” Meghan was nervous about the encounter. What if the others guessed that Lucas and she were only pretending to be engaged?

  “What’s his name?”

  “Lucas. Lucas Ridgely.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Finn appeared confused. “Why did I think your man was an O’Connor?”

  Meghan thought quickly. “Me da’s friend is an O’Connor. Perhaps ye heard me talk of him.”

  The woman’s brow cleared. “Ah, that must be where I heard the name then. Odd, I would’ve sworn … Never ye mind. An old woman’s recollections are not as clear as they once were.”

  Meghan smiled as she tried to control her frantic heart. “Da used to say the same of old men.” She combed her hair back with her fingers. “But ye aren’t old, Mrs. Finn.”

  Doreen Finn chuckled. “I’ve the desires of a girl, Meg, but I’ve lost the energy.”

  A knock on the cabin door interrupted their conversation; Meghan held her breath as Mrs. Finn went to answer it.

  “Good morning. I’m looking for Meghan McBride.”

  Mrs. Finn blocked Meghan’s view, but she recognized Lucas’s deep voice instantly.

  “She is here,” Mrs. Finn said in a crisp voice. “Might I inquire as to who you are?”

  “Lucas Ridgely.”

  “And,” the woman exclaimed, “her fiancé!”

  Mrs. Finn turned to flash Meghan a grin. “It be him, Meggie girl,” she said in a hushed voice that clearly carried to the man. “Lucas Ridgely, your betrothed.”

  Meghan nodded, unsure how to respond.

  “May I come in?” He sounded amused.

  “Aye, of course, lad,” Mrs. Finn said, making Meghan gasp. “Come in. Meghan was just telling me about ye.”

  “She was?” Lucas stepped into the cabin, filling the chamber with his presence. His gaze caressed her, making her tremble. She felt naked in her homespun gown, although she was adequately covered from neck to toe. “Meghan.”

  “Lucas,” she greeted nervously. How could she have forgotten how tall and handsome he was?

  He approached and lifted her hands, clasping them with warmth. Her blood heated, and she felt a catch in her throat when he released her fingers and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Easy, love,” he whispered. “We’ve an act to play. Remember?” And then he was pulling her into his embrace.

  Conscious of Mrs. Finn, Meghan forced herself to relax. She leaned against Lucas and was immediately surrounded by his warm, strong arms. He cupped her head, pressing it gently against his chest, and she closed her eyes. It was good to be held by him. She heard the thundering beat of his heart, and felt safe and cherished.

  “How are you, Irish?” he murmured. His voice rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating beneath her ear.

  She pulled back to gaze up at him and was starded by his tender expression. She drew a sharp breath. “I’m fine,” she whispered. He lifted her hair and stroked her nape. Meghan quivered.

  “Good girl.” His dark eyes glowed, making her pulse quicken.

  Frightened by his effect on her, Meghan reeled, suddenly unsure of their dangerous game of pretend.

  She pulled from his hold and spun away. “You’re here early.” She sensed Mrs. Finn watching them curiously. Meghan swung back with a bright smile.

  “It’s after eleven,” Lucas said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

  “After eleven!” she exclaimed.

  Mrs. Finn chuckled. “I told ye ye’d nearly slept away the day.”

  “Aye, b
ut—”

  Lucas grinned. “Dreaming of me?”

  Meghan grew flustered. Damn, she thought. The man was enjoying this!

  “Ye’re embarrassing the child, Mr. Ridgely.”

  “Lucas,” he invited the older woman with a smooth smile.

  Mrs. Finn was clearly charmed. “Lucas.” She beamed as she met Meghan’s glance. “I like him, Meg.” She paused, and her gaze narrowed assessingly. “Even if he’s not your betrothed.”

  Meghan gasped. “Not my—”

  Lucas didn’t deny it as he regarded the older woman with admiration. “A brilliant guess?”

  Mrs. Finn nodded, looking pleased. “ ‘Tis not my place to tell your secrets. I’m sure ye’ve a good enough reason for this role ye’re playing.”

  He nodded. “Meghan was assaulted by a crewman last night,” he said, his expression grave.

  “I knew something happened. Are ye all right, child?” Mrs. Finn studied Meghan and then speared Lucas with her gaze. “Ye saved her, I take it.”

  He nodded.

  “Then it’s our thanks ye have, Lucas Ridgely,” Mrs. Finn said. “Ye’ve decided on the betrothal to keep her safe?”

  “As my intended, no man would dare come near her,” he said, his tone dark and dangerous.

  “And how do we know she’s safe from ye?” the older woman asked.

  “Mrs. Finn!” Meghan cried.

  But Lucas didn’t take offense. “I’m not in the habit of forcing females,” he said. He grinned roguishly. “I’ve never had to.”

  Her lips curving upward with a satisfied smile, Mrs. Finn nodded. But Meghan felt uneasy.

  Lucas’s gaze fastened on Meghan. “Shall we stroll the upper deck?” he asked. “You’re welcome to join us, Mrs. Finn,” he said without taking his eyes from Meghan.

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll be leaving ye two alone. Bridget and Mary Beth will coming back shortly.”

  “Meghan?” Lucas held out his arm for her.

  “I don’t know.” She felt heat warm her cheeks.

  “Come on,” he urged softly. “Get your cloak; it’s cold out.” His gaze narrowed on her a moment, before he said, “I’ll wait outside the cabin for you.” With a nod at Mrs. Finn, he left.

  The room was quiet after Lucas’s exit. Meghan felt the intensity of Mrs. Finn’s stare as she picked up the cloak and slipped it on over her worn gown. She wondered what the woman was thinking.