Captain Corcoran's Hoyden Bride

Captain Corcoran slammed his bedroom door behind him with satisfying force. Give him cannon fire or a howling tempest any day in preference to crossing swords with a woman!

It was no use telling himself that he was still in charge of the situation. That she was in his domain, guarded by his devoted crew. That, beyond that, he was rich and she was poor. He had felt anything but victorious when he had felt her shivering in his arms as he carried her back to the house. It had been one of the lowest moments of his life, because she was injured and it was all his fault.

But, dammit, how could he have guessed she would do something as crazy as run away in the middle of the night, without so much as a coat to keep the rain off her?

He rubbed one hand wearily over his face, his fingers snagging on the eyepatch.

He tore it from his face, hurled it at the mirror and glared at his reflection.

Was it any wonder she’d fled, screaming, into the woods, rather than ally herself to that?

He turned from the sight that, truth be told, made his own stomach heave every time he looked at it, went to a side table where he kept a bottle of good brandy and poured himself a generous measure. Of late, he had begun to think the scarring was less revolting than it had been when he had first lost his eye and the suppuration and swelling had made him look truly monstrous.

But back then, he had never thought he would be contemplating matrimony again! Matrimony. He shuddered. Very soon after coming into the title, he had learned that one of his primary duties was to marry and produce an heir. And he was a firm believer in doing his duty. As a naval officer, he had often expected to die in the performance of his duty.

He emptied a second glass and slammed it down on the side table.

The kind of battle he was used to was child’s play, in comparison to tangling with the woman upstairs.

Aimée was up and dressed by the time Nelson brought her breakfast tray to her room. There had been no point lying in bed any longer. Not when she had scarcely slept all night anyway.

She had dressed for travel as far as she was able, though she could not yet bear to lace her walking boots up over her swollen ankle. Instead, she had slipped her feet back into the shoes she had worn to dinner the night before. They were still a bit damp, even though she had got up at some point during her restless night, stuffed them with paper and propped them up against the fender. Her ruined dress was too wet to pack, so she had left that draped over the clothes airer. What would become of it, she could not begin to guess.

Nelson slapped the tray down on a table just inside the door.

‘When you’ve eaten, the Captain wants a word with you,’ he said curtly.

‘He … he does?’ Aimée’s heart began to thud unevenly. She did not know what on earth he could want to speak to her about. Last night he had made it quite plain he never wanted to clap eyes on her again!

‘Please, miss,’ said the burly servant, ‘just listen to what he has to say, will yer?’ He took a step towards her, his face creasing anxiously. ‘Don’t go hurting him no more. You might not like the look of him much, but you won’t find a decenter gent. Got a heart of gold, he has. I served the Crown for years, I did, after being pressed into the service. Fought during campaigns that made many of the officers on the ships I served in into national heroes. Then got cast adrift when we beat France to flinders. And what with stoppages and one thing and another, I washed up ashore homeless and penniless. Would’ve ended up at the end of a rope, if the Captain hadn’t sprung me from jail and given me this job.’

Aimée was somewhat taken aback by the man’s passionate plea on behalf of his captain. ‘Well, of course I will listen to whatever it is he wishes to say to me. And as for hurting him—’ she frowned, a little puzzled, for she could not see how that might be possible ‘—I have never deliberately hurt anyone in my life. But I shall offer him an apology for my behaviour.’ She had misjudged him terribly. And from what he had said, made him think she had fled from him because she found him repulsive.

Nelson’s face cleared. ‘You could marry him, then, couldn’t yer? Now you’ve had a chance to mull it over? He wouldn’t never hurt a lady. Not a man what’s done all he’s done for me.’

‘I know.’ She had already worked that out for herself. The care he had taken of her, in spite of being so angry, had told her more about his character than he probably realised. So it was with great sadness that she shook her head, and said, ‘But he does not intend to renew his offer.’

The man’s face fell. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

Aimée did not waste a moment wondering what reason the Captain might have for wishing to speak to her before sending her away. All night, her thoughts had been running round and round like a dog chasing its tail. She had not reached any sensible conclusions about anything. All she had done was wear herself out, worrying about the hopelessness of it all. Instead, she went to the table and pulled up a chair. By the time Nelson returned, she had demolished every scrap of food on the breakfast tray, and regained at least an outward semblance of composure.

The brawny servant stood for a moment in the doorway, tears in his eyes, before heaving a sentimental sigh and offering her his arm to help her hobble along the landing and down the stairs.

Captain Corcoran was sitting behind his desk when Nelson ushered her into his study, but he got to his feet and waited until she was seated before sitting back down.

Though it was a little late for him to be playing the gentleman, considering how rudely he had spoken to her the night before, she appreciated the gesture.

He cleared his throat.