Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1) Page 10

  Despite his failures, however, the woman beside him smiled and handed him a canteen, seeming unruffled by these setbacks. Perhaps she was being kind, but that only made his anguish that much more pronounced. He would never be able to bear her pity.

  He took a long drink of water from what he knew was the second of the three canteens they had. It was nearly empty, so they would have to ration the rest until George returned, or they would have to go into the forest to find some sort of water source for themselves. What concerned him was that they would leave and then George would return only to find them gone and worry for their safety. However, if he did not return soon, they would be left with no water to drink.

  He sighed. Yes, all hope lies with George, he thought. He, a marquess, unable to provide a way for two people to survive was a man lacking in honor and unworthy of his title. To have a woman, this woman in particular, better him at building a simple shelter had been bad enough, but to not even spear a single fish from the sea? It was absolutely inexcusable.

  The woman of his thoughts walked up and handed him a ration of salted meat. “You need to eat,” she said. He took it begrudgingly and returned to his thoughts. He had hoped to impress Amelia with his feats of construction and hunting, neither of which he had any real knowledge. Yet, the question was, why did he feel it important to impress her? What was it about her that made him act the bumbling oaf? He was much more intelligent than this.

  “Is something bothering you?” Amelia asked as she took a seat on a nearby log.

  He looked over at her. “Of course I am upset,” he said in a tone much louder than he had anticipated. “I have failed.”

  She stood and walked away toward the waves, speaking no words, and he felt a rush of guilt come over him. Why had he spoken so harshly to her? She had done no wrong, but in his frustration he had lashed out at her. Or was it due to the strange feelings he was having for her?

  When he had awakened this morning with her hand on his bare stomach, he had felt a sense of peace, as if everything was as it should be. However, knowing that what he experienced at the moment was what his heart desired made the fact that he could never have it all that more painful. For her heart belonged to another, and he should not make any attempt to break up what two people shared, even if it tore him apart inside.

  However, he could still make her time on this island pleasant. He would provide every luxury he could for her, even if it did not amount to much. Her days would be filled with happiness, for her existence alone made him happy.

  A seagull called overhead, and he looked up to see it circle above and then fly away. Letting out a sigh, he took another bit of the salted meat, and the flavor fell flat in the wake of his failures—and his wandering thoughts. How could a gentleman have thoughts of pledging his loyalty to a woman who was promised to another? Yet, in his heart, he felt as if he must.

  His eyes went to Amelia, who stood in the waves, the incoming tide washing over her feet. Her perfect form showed through the thin shift, and he felt a stirring inside him. Even in her disheveled state, she was beautiful, and he found it difficult to take his eyes off her. Yet, he did so, for it was only right. They would never be together. No, a woman such as she would give her heart to only one man, and that man was not he. A gentleman would never attempt to say or do anything to change a woman’s mind when it was already made. Especially if that man cared for that woman as he found himself caring for her more and more each day.

  With purpose, he rose from his seat and walked over to stand beside her. Her face remained solemn and she made no attempt to look at him.

  “Amelia,” he said in a low voice, “I am sorry for taking my frustration out on you. It was caused by my own shortcomings and nothing you did.”

  It remained quiet for a few moments and then she turned to face him, the water now splashing her legs. “Your apology is accepted,” she said, and then a wondrous smile crossed her lips. “It is not every day a woman bests a man in the construction of a home.”

  He let out a laugh. “Is that so?” he asked. “It was a fine home until the storm came in.”

  “It was. However, mine will remain here for a very long time and will take a much greater storm to bring it down.” Then she actually poked him in the chest with a finger! “You should be thanking me for saving you.”

  “Oh, you believe so, do you?” he said and then bent down, cupped water into his hands, and splashed her.

  She gasped, crossed her arms over her breasts, and glared out over the water.

  “I was only teasing!” he said as he reached for her shoulder. How could he have offended her once again?

  However, as he reached for her shoulder, she grabbed hold of his arm and, before he knew what was happening, pulled him into the cold water, his entire body, head included, going beneath the water.

  He came out sputtering. “You are terrible, Miss Browning,” he cried as he reached for her leg and pulled until she fell into the water beside him. Both laughed as the small waves crashed over them and they crawled up to drier sand.

  Amelia pulled wet strands of hair from her face, her smile reflecting the magnificence of the sun, and Matthew had to look away lest his feelings overtake him once again.

  “I suppose we both needed a bath,” she said. She splashed lightly at the water around her. “I must admit, it is an elegant bath.”

  “You are right at that,” he said, moving his hand through the water. “Here, have some more.” He cupped the water in his hand and threw it at her face.

  “I thought you were a gentleman!” she said with such a laugh he thought time would stand still. Then she stood up and, with her hands holding her shift, began to kick water at him.

  He pulled himself up, and the two stood facing each other without saying any words. He could see in her eyes what he felt in his heart, but he had to push the feelings away.

  After a short time staring at each other in silence, they both turned to look out over the water—and were surprised to see a ship on the horizon.

  ***

  “Three ships,” Matthew mumbled, his eyes on the fire that raged before him. “Three ships and yet not a single one came our way.” He let out a sigh and then took a drink from the bottle of brandy in his hands. “It does not matter now. George will return tomorrow with help.”

  “Do you really believe that to be true?” Amelia asked, taking the bottle from him

  “No,” he said, which only made them both sigh.

  She sat with her knees bent and an arm wrapped around her leg. After taking another drink, she returned the bottle to him, and he took a long swig of the brandy in an attempt to ease his disappointment from the events of earlier. In all honesty, he should have stopped drinking an hour earlier, but he found the brandy somewhat comforting it was difficult to stop.

  “At least we know one thing,” she said as he handed the bottle back one again.

  “And what is that?”

  Matthew watched her with amusement as she placed the opening to the bottle to her lips, picked up the bottom to tilt it, and took another drink. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before losing her balance and falling back on an elbow. He did not believe he had seen anything so wonderful in his life. “With this number of people passing by,” she replied once she had pushed herself back up, “either England or France is closer than we might have first thought. It is only a matter of time before one passes by close enough to see us.”

  He tilted his head at her. “Tell me, how is it you are able to keep your spirits high when everything around us seems to taunt our failures?”

  Amelia giggled as she handed him the bottle once again, almost falling over again in the process. “It is simply how I look at events around me,” she said, her voice now a bit slurred. “For example, I am stranded on an island with a man who snores so loudly that the stars above threaten to fall.”

  He sat up and gave her an indignant glare. “I do not snore!”

  “Yes, you do,” she s
aid with a firm nod. “However, rather than be upset that my sleep has been ruined, I prefer to look at the better side of that.”

  “How can you look past that?” he asked, still shocked at the fact he snored. “It must be deafening.”

  “It is quite harsh,” she agreed. It amazed him how her eyes sparkled in the firelight. “However, I would rather have you by my side snoring than to be alone.” Then covered her mouth with a gasp. “What I meant was that I prefer to have your company rather than to be alone.” Her cheeks had taken on a lovely blush that only made her that much more beautiful, and he found it difficult to take his eyes from her.

  He chuckled. “I believe I understood your meaning.” He understood quite well for he found that being by her side was not only a duty, but it was also a privilege that would not last for much longer, for once they were rescued, they would go their separate ways to live their separate lives. Her outlook on life was something he admired, but even so, he had to force himself to focus on the fact that, once they were rescued, she would no longer be at his side.

  They both remained quiet for some time as they passed the bottle between them, until Amelia let out a sigh. “I must admit that, once we are off this island, I will miss being here.” She glanced over at him. “And your friendship, as well. Though we have only known each other a few days, I have grown quite fond of you, faults and all.”

  He laughed and took another drink. “It has been the most wonderful and exciting experience I have ever had,” he admitted. Perhaps it was the drink, but he felt a desperate need to be honest with her. “I have also grown fond of you. Your friendship,” well perhaps not completely honest for he knew it was more than a simple friendship he felt for her, “is something I will always cherish.” She worried her bottom lip and he wished to reach over and hold her, though he knew he never could. “Soon you will be reunited with Harold. I am sure the man is eagerly waiting to know what has become of you.”

  Amelia stared at the bottle in her hands. “What has become of me?” she mumbled. “Yes, that is a good question.”

  He found her words confusing but asked for no clarification. After one last drink, she handed the bottle back to him and rose.

  “Good night, Matthew,” she said. Her voice had a melancholy tone, and he wondered at her sudden change of mood. Without another word, she made her way to the shelter, her step a bit unsteady.

  Matthew stared at the fire for several moments, wondering about her change in attitude. To go from someone who was so positive to the sad woman who just left his side was strange.

  Then a realization hit him as hard as a stone against a wall. He had brought up the very man she loved and yet from whom she was apart. What he had done, in essence, was deepen her wound with his reminder.

  “Title or no, you are still a fool,” he whispered as he took one last drink from the bottle and tossed it aside. He, too, should get to bed, but he sat staring out into the darkness past the fire, his thoughts on a beautiful blond woman who he could never have.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was with great disappointment that, the following day, George did not return. Amelia began to worry as she stood in the cool water of whatever sea washed up on these shores as yet another ship sailed by, so close she could almost reach out and touch it, and yet far enough away she did not even bother with shouting. It had done no good before. What could come from it now except a pain in her throat and a loss of her voice?

  Sighing, she pulled her hair back over her shoulder. It was a tangled mess and would take hours to comb out, not to mention the stiffness caused by the salt from the sea water. Between that and the state of her dress—or lack thereof—it was a wonder Matthew did not look upon her as some sort of urchin from the streets.

  “I fear George will not return yet again this evening,” Matthew said as he walked up to stand beside her. “The hour grows late and it will soon be dark.”

  Matthew had made another attempt to hone a spear from a branch, a much better one this time around, but he still had had no luck in catching any fish. Apparently, the art of spearing fish took more than a few tries to show success, and Matthew lost interest after spending a good portion of the afternoon knee-deep in the water, the new spear over his head and his eyes searching the water for anything worth catching. Amelia rejected his offer to allow her the opportunity to use the spear. She doubted she would have any more luck than him. She might be able to build a home for them, but spearing fish was not something she wished to try.

  Amelia shook her head and sighed, her thoughts going back to George. “What if he never returns? What will we do then? We cannot stay here forever, can we?”

  When he did not respond, she glanced over at him. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and staring off over the waters. It occurred to Amelia that he was more than likely as concerned as she. Whether it was for the disappearance of his ship’s captain, for their current situation, or both, she was unsure, but to know he shared her worries eased her mind somewhat. She hoped that George was safe; however, with each passing day, the chance of his safety lessened, for he could have been killed by accident or beast.

  “We will find a way,” Matthew answered, though his voice would not have convinced even the most willing of listeners.

  Amelia offered him a weak smile and then looked back at the now vacant horizon. Thoughts of her parents came to mind, more so her mother. The long walks they enjoyed, the sharing of stories, the keeping of their gardens. Tears welled up in Amelia’s eyes as she thought of the heartbreak her mother would suffer at the loss of her only daughter. Her mother had never been a strong woman and this would surely kill her. Amelia, however, had always been strong enough for them both, so with a stubbornness borne in her, she straightened her back and wiped at her eyes. Crying would not help get them off this island, nor would it keep them alive while they waited.

  “Perhaps tomorrow we should venture out into the forest,” she said, looking behind her at the dark and forbidding expanse of trees that lined the far end of the beach. “We might find something of use there. I was thinking we might find some sort of fruit, or perhaps even nuts that we can add to what we already have. What I do know is that we must do something soon. Our food will be gone soon, and we have nothing else to eat.”

  “That would be foolish,” Matthew argued, his tone stinging. She did not blame him, however, for her words were only a reminder of his failure at catching fish. He continued. “We are apt to become lost, just as George surely has.”

  Amelia was not afraid the man would somehow hurt her in a physical manner, and yet she found his tone to be frightening. Once again, tears welled up and she could do nothing to stem their flow as they ran down her cheeks. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I did not mean to upset you.”

  There was hurt in his eyes when turned to her. “I am sorry for raising my voice to you. Once again, you have done nothing wrong.” He sighed. “It is my own shortcomings that anger me. I suppose I am not accustomed to feeling helpless, no man is. However, that does not warrant such treatment of you. So, again, I would be very grateful if you would accept my apology.”

  She swiped at her cheeks. “Apology accepted,” she said with a sniff. “It is just that am worried that I will die here without saying goodbye to my parents. You see, my mother, I love her so, and the thought of never seeing her again…” The tears now erupted and she found herself sobbing in his arms, a place she felt safe and secure, which only made the tears fall even harder. She could not love this man! It would be unfair to them both.

  “On my word,” he said as he placed his chin on the top of her head, “we will journey into the forest. I will not stop until we find a way off this island, whether it be by building a raft or if I must swim all the way to the mainland. But please, fear not, for I will protect you and return you home safely.”

  She gave a small nod and he took her chin in his fingers, gently lifting her face to his. Her eyes looked into his, the ocean waves swirling around t
heir legs and the wind tousling her hair. His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek, and the feelings she had been fighting since their first encounter on The Topaz could no longer be controlled. Rising herself up onto the tips of her toes, she touched her lips to his as his arms tightened around her waist.

  If it was not for the sun still in the sky, she would have sworn the kiss lasted forever. However, eventually it broke, and as the two stood gazing at one another, Amelia realized she was experiencing a most wondrous feeling for the first time in her life.

  Love.

  ***

  Matthew added another branch to the smoldering fire, and Amelia watched him out of the corner of her eye. After their kiss, they had quickly separated from one another and moved on to other conversations, both seeming to have a need to ignore what had just transpired. Between them sat the last bottle of wine, unopened at the moment.

  “We will save the last canteen of water for the journey into the forest come morning,” Matthew said as he absently poked at the fire. “Perhaps we will find a small brook or pool of water nestled in its depth where we can refill one of the empty ones. Until then, it would be best if we only drank wine.”

  Although they had said nothing after that kiss, Amelia could not keep herself from bringing it to mind. She had always held herself to a very high standard, and her actions earlier had destroyed that notion in one swift moment. However, though she knew this, somehow the kiss had felt right, which plagued her all the more. How could such a dastardly deed cause one joy? Did that make her evil? She was not certain, but she suspected quite highly that it did.

  However, when she glanced at Matthew, he seemed to be struggling as much as she. He refused to look her in the eye, and when she did catch him watching her, he quickly turned his eyes away. Yes, he struggled as much as she, and for that she felt wretched. Not only had she lowered herself to such depths, but she had also pulled him down with her.