Chapter 25
Buffy clutched the edge of the blanket, as the roll and pitch of the ship made her stomach swim. She’d woken as she tumbled from the bunk and landed in a heap on the hard-plank floor.
The howl and scream of the storm made it a live thing, swirling banshee-like around the masts, tearing at the small port holes as though it would rip the very ribs of the ship apart. Buffy rushed to the door and listened to the shouts among the sailors outside, hearing as footsteps sounded back and forth.
Surely William was alright? He’d sailed for years, she knew that, but this storm seemed so horrific, as though it would devour them whole. What if he were washed over? Even the best of sailors could be caught unawares, swept up by an unsuspected wave into the gaping black of the sea. Willow’s Daniel had been a fine sailor, but he’d been lost nonetheless.
She paced for a few minutes, but the toss of the flooring was more than her balance could withstand and she curled back into the bunk, pulling the covers tightly around her as a stark realization clutched deep in her gut.
She didn’t want to lose him. Not to the sea. Not to Harmony. Not to anyone. The knowledge washed over her as the wind and rain began to slow and she felt a sudden sense of calmness for the first time since she’d traveled to Boston.
She’d spent years striving to be the faithful daughter, the model wife. But a sense of dissatisfaction had burrowed deep within her, even as she’d sedately followed her father, then husband’s directions. She’d had her small rebellions since then, but she’d always been afraid to stray to far in her personal conduct from the well-schooled lessons of how a lady should conduct herself, afraid of what other might say. She’d been so careful to stay within the boundaries, to be the perfect widow since Angel’s death, so that she could have her small freedoms. It hadn’t been hard, really. There was nothing she wanted for herself but to be left alone, nothing to gain by flaunting society’s conventions.
Until he’d come along. She could feel the hot blush rise in her cheeks as she remembered the night he’d come to her and how easily she’d capitulated. Not because of loneliness or naivety, but because he’d awakened something within her, the stirrings of a happiness she hadn’t thought possible.
She sat back up, gripping the edge of the bunk as the ship rolled sharply again. Snatches of raised voices sounded as men hurtled along the passageway outside the cabin’s door. She strained to hear what was said, but the howl of the wind swept away the words.
She pulled the blanket from the bunk around her and staggered closer to the door again, pressing against it, trying to gain some sense of what was happening, of where William might be in all of this. But the voices moved on, a sharp command that might have been him sending the footsteps pounding towards the front of the ship. She slumped against the hard wood and sank to the floor, bundling herself closer in the rough wool as she waited.
She wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice his dream for her, flaunt his agreement with Wilkins and bring down his wrath and those of his connections in Charleston society, but she knew she couldn’t bear to be without William. Which left only the option she hadn’t wished to consider. She would become his mistress, discreetly, quietly, in the way those things were done. But at least he’d still be hers. The loss of her good name seemed a small price to pay anymore for the warmth and love she knew would fill her life with him in it.
She’d refused to hear him out before, refused to give him a chance to explain. She prayed she hadn’t waited too long to have that chance as she nervously shuffled back to the bunk again and waited in the dark as the sounds of the storm began to dissipate.
The key rattled in the lock and as the door swung open, she breathed a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. In the half light from the door she drank in his shadowed form with hungry eyes as he fumbled for the lamp and holder in the box affixed to the table and struck a match with a hiss that cast a dim light over the room.
He shut the door as she watched. He was drenched, soaked with the water from the storm that pooled beneath his feet and plastered his thin, once fine shirt to his torso.
He’d never looked more beautiful to her. She struggled to find her voice as he turned towards her. “Buffy? Love, are you alright?”
Whatever last dam of reserve she’d been clinging too, whatever last shred of propriety that she’d clutched to herself as reassurance that leaving Charleston and temptation had been the right thing, disappeared as he stood there in front of her.
After all, Jane had come back to find her Mr. Rochester in the end, hadn’t she?
She rose from the bunk and crossed the small cabin, engulfing him despite his dampness in a consuming hug. “William, you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive. I was so worried,” she murmured against his sodden shirtfront.
She could feel the slight tension in his body as he slowly lowered the lamp to the table and ran his hand up her back. She shivered as the feel of his fingertips as they smoothed across the bare skin of her shoulder and tilted her chin up to force her to meet his eyes.
She could see the surprise there and the hunger as he searched her face.
“Buffy? You’re alright?”
She knew words were needed between them. The right words this time. Not the pretty words he’d spun to seduce her with that night before he’d left Charleston, nor the cold words she’d use to cut him and castigate him for the way he’d treated her in Boston. They needed something new, vows of promise and commitment, of forgiveness and acceptance of their reality, where they would go from this moment.
But right now she didn’t want words. She felt the longing in the touch of his lips against her fingers as she stopped him from speaking, and the desire in his eyes as they traced over her.
There’d be time enough for words later. She took his hand and turned to lead him back to the bunk.
++++++
He wasn’t sure where he managed to find the strength, but he stopped her as she pulled him towards the bed, her intentions clear. “Buffy, wait.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her golden hair cascading down her back and he stepped closer, unable to resist the lure of the invitation in her eyes. But he wasn’t making the mistake he had before, rushing headlong without an understanding that she would truly be his.
“Love, no, wait. We need to talk.”
She sat on the edge of the bunk, letting the blanket wrapped around her shoulders fall away, her skin glowing in the dim flicker of the lamp. He felt in his pocket, reassuring himself that the delicate circle of gold was still there, as he nervously knelt in front of her, clasping her hands in his as he struggled to find the right words.
“William?” She pulled one hand free and raised it to clasp his face. “I love you. And tonight, listening to that storm howl outside, wondering if you were still there and or if something had happened to you, I realized something. I don’t want to be without you, regardless of what anyone might say.”
He looked at her, dazed for a moment. “Buffy . . . are you saying . . .”
“I want to be with you, William. No matter what.”
A smile broke across his face and he pulled her to him, smothering her face with kisses as she clung to him. He felt a sense of elation bloom within that he hadn’t felt since the morning he’d left her sleeping side.
He broke away, fumbling in his pocket for the emerald ring that he took out with shaking fingers, as he grasped her left hand. “I love you, Buffy, so much. I will cherish you for the rest of our days, I promise you.”
She stared down at the ring and then up at him, confused. “William?”
“Buffy, will you marry me?” he asked.
She blinked down at the dark fire of the emerald and then back up at him. “William, no, you don’t have to, I . . .” she took a deep breath, “I will be your mistress.”
“But I don’t want you as my mistress.” He sat back horrified. “I want you as my wife, Buffy. And nothing less.”
She blinked. “But . . . Wilkins . . . and the contract. William, he’s as good as promised to make things impossible for you, and I don’t wish to be the cause of that.”
William frowned. This was not how he’d imagined the proposal going. She was supposed to yes and smile and kiss him and . . . He took a deep breath and tried again. “Sod them all. I’ve cracked tougher nuts than Wilkins in my time and Harmony can barely stand to be in my presence. I’ll settle a nice dowry on her and cheer the little sheep right up. And Wilkins even dares to try to besmirch your name, he’ll regret it, I’ll see to that. You are the only woman I want to be my bride, contract or no contract.”
She still had not answered. He sat back, the ring cutting into his fingers as he gripped it tightly in his hand, a thought striking him that left him cold. “Is it that . . . you don’t wish to be married again? Buffy, I promise that I’ll treat well, it won’t be like with Crawford.”
She frowned. “How do you know about Angel?” she asked, her voice faint.
He took her hand again, cradling it gently. “Willow told me that he was unkind to you, but, love, you must know by now that I have no wish for a bride that’s for show. I foolishly thought that would suffice, but . . .” he leaned closer, gently kissing her lips, “I was more the fool to believe it. I cannot imagine my life without you, Elizabeth Summers Crawford. I want you to be the mother of my children, the keeper of my home, my love and life for the rest of my days.”
He realized there were tears streaming down her face, and he wiped one away with his thumb as she threw her arms around him. “You truly wish me to be your wife?” she murmured against his ear.
He smiled and pulled her back so that he could meet her eyes. “With all my heart.”
He could see the smile that began in her eyes and lit up her entire face as she nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes?” he asked again.
“Yes! I’ll marry you, William!” she exclaimed, giggling as he caught her lips in a passionate kiss that ended with them tumbling onto the bed. He managed to pull himself back to catch his breath and reached for her hand, kissing each slender digit until he reached her ring finger and slid the large emerald onto her hand.
She held it out in shock, “It’s rather . . . large.”
“The better for other blokes to know you’re taken, my love,” he murmured, exploring the soft skin of her arm with his lips as he worked his way to the curve of her shoulder. He was starting to wonder how he’d managed to be apart from her for so many weeks, now that he had her in his arms again, the memories of their night together rolling back. He’d dreamed of this, her soft body against his, flushed and warm and welcoming. He let his hand roam, feeling the soft swell of her breast against his palm, as he traced the lace edge of her thin garment.
“William?” Her voice was hesitant as she’d turned to face him completely, her hand caressing his skin, and he could feel the cool metal of the band against his cheek.
He cursed himself inwardly and pulled his hand away from the swell of her breast. Right. What the hell was he thinking? He’d asked her to marry him, assured her of his love and respect, and then promptly toppled her onto the bed like a two-bit doxy to have his way with her.
“You’re dripping wet,” she reminded him.
He looked down at his sodden shirt and rolled away, sitting back up on the edge of the bunk. “Right. Sorry, sweet, I’ll just be changing and then I’ll go and see if I can bunk with . . .”
“How about you just take it off and then come back,” she patted the spot next to her, “here.”
He glanced back, eyes wide. “Sweetheart, no, we’re going to do this proper.” He stood up before he lost his resolve and started to walk away to his chest for a dry shirt. “We’ll wait until after-”
“William?”
He turned completely and lost his breath at the vision of his bride-to be wearing nothing at all as she waited for him in his bed, rising from the tangled blanket like a Venus made just for him.
“I don’t want to wait,” she said softly, holding out her arms to him
He hastily unbuttoned his own shirt. “As you wish, my love.” He finished disrobing and crossed the cabin in a few strides, laughing with her as she giggled and mock-shivered at the coldness of his skin still chilled from the rain, wrapping herself around him with the whispered promise that she’d keep him warm.
He felt it then, something deep inside long damned up burst forth and flood through him, the knowledge that he’d finally found the love he’d been searching for.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
It has been ages since I updated this, and I apologize for the long delay - but I really appreciate those who have still encouraged me to continue.