Mishap Marriage

‘Don’t be impertinent, Shona. You’ll get yourself talked about.’

‘Is that so? No more than I am already.’

Carmelita seemed to recognise her limit, for she said nothing else on the matter, but the toss of her head with haughty Latin arrogance told Shona that it was not forgotten.

Antony introduced himself and his wife to Captain Fitzgerald and welcomed him to the island. The captain did likewise, presenting his first mate and the reverend—slightly stressing the word reverend.

‘Aye,’ Singleton explained with a merry twinkle in his eye as the reverend sidled off to the nearest waterfront tavern. ‘The captain considers it necessary to have the crew’s spiritual needs taken care of on a long sea voyage.’

Antony nodded, not having noticed that there was anything untoward in the first mate’s words. ‘And does he keep their spirits up?’

‘Oh, aye—when there’s enough faith aboard.’ And enough rum aboard, he almost added, but thought better of it.

‘When I was informed of your ship entering the cove,’ Antony said, addressing himself to the captain, ‘I thought I would come and greet you myself. I have heard of you, of course. Your name is well known throughout this part of the world.’

The captain raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed? You flatter me, Mr McKenzie.’

‘Your ship looks as if it has taken a battering.’

‘A few days out of Virginia a storm blew—by ill luck the severity of which was quite exceptional in those latitudes for this time of year. We were blown over two hundred miles off course and lost the convoy we were with. The damage you see is minor and can soon be mended.’

‘Where are you bound?’

‘Martinique—and then London. Rather than delay for another month or even two, awaiting the gathering of another convoy, I will take my chance on being able to catch up with the one I was parted from.’

‘Very wise,’ Antony agreed. A merchant vessel as large as the Ocean Pearl, weighted down with cargo, would be lucky not to attract the attention of privateers of all nations. Not by the score, but by the hundred they swarmed in both European and American waters. In consequence, except for especially fast ships, a system of convoys had long been organised.

‘We’ve put in for a general replenishing—to take on supplies and fresh water—and then we’ll be on our way. I am indebted to you, Mr McKenzie.’

‘You are most welcome, Captain Fitzgerald, and still more so if you will accept my invitation to dine with us tonight—while you give me news of what is happening in the colonies. I do have newspapers delivered from Virginia and London—old news is better than no news at all—but there’s nothing like hearing it first-hand. I shall send a carriage for you and Mr Singleton later.’

Captain Fitzgerald turned away, his gaze again falling on Shona still in the same spot. His eyes narrowed, half-shaded by his lids as he coolly stared at her. Something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that she represented the worst kind of danger to a freedom-loving bachelor, warning him that there might be repercussions should he accept McKenzie’s offer to dine at his house, but she was so damned lovely he ignored the warnings.

Shona straightened her back, her chin moving slightly upwards in an effort to break the spell he wove about her with his eyes.

He threw her a salute, bowing ever so slightly, then headed off towards the town.

Without waiting for Antony to order her to be gone, Shona turned her horse about and headed in the direction of the house.

* * *

The evening was gentle and warm, with a soft quality known only on the Caribbean islands. Overlooking the bay stood Melrose Hill, the McKenzie residence, the long curved drive lined with huge coconut palms. Melrose Hill was a two-storeyed, sprawling white mansion. It was sheltered by the rise of the land and by the trees surrounding the house. Swathed in native flowers, a wide veranda ran the whole of its length, riotous colours of frangipani and bougainvillaea clambering in profusion over trellising. The sun had already gone down behind the hills so the house was now in shadow, but a number of large lanterns had been lit along the veranda.

On entering a wide, airy hall, Zack was impressed. A long, crystal chandelier was suspended from the lofty ceiling, the shimmering prisms setting the hall aglow with myriad dancing rainbows.

The house smelled of resin and wax polish. Through the door into the dining room, finishing touches were being put to the large oval table by two dark-skinned footmen under the supervision of a mulatto major-domo.

The French-style furniture and gilt-framed paintings were elegant, and throughout the house rich Aubusson carpets, rugs from Persia, marble from Italy, lacquers, jade and ivory from the Orient and other treasures from around the world embellished the rooms. Floor-to-ceiling French doors opened on to the flower-laden terrace and the gardens at the back of the house, and filmy curtains wafted in the night breeze, cooling the stately dining room. In fact, the setting was as civilised and luxurious as any Zack had seen in the houses of noblemen who owned great estates in the sugar islands.

* * *

As she prepared for the evening, Shona sat at her dressing table as Morag painstakingly arranged her hair in an elegant coiffure. For some reason she wanted to look her best—could it be the extra guest Antony had invited? Her corset had been clinched tightly over the shift, pushing her bosom upwards until its fullness strained against the gossamer fabric. Everything was in readiness and equally blended portions of tension and excitement grew in Shona’s breast as she donned her gown.

The satin bodice was covered with lace, the scallops of which overlapped on to the bosom. The low sleeves were full, ending just below the elbow, and were attached to the bodice beneath the arms to leave the shoulders bare. A wide deep blue sash was tied about the waist and trailed in streamers down the back of the ivory lace and satin skirt.

‘You look grand,’ Morag remarked as Shona studied her reflection with a critical eye in the long mirror, giving a slight adjustment to the neckline. Miss Shona’s was that rare beauty which was almost never at a loss. If she could find herself a husband, she would stir his heart to burgeoning pride, if not open lust. ‘A sight for sore eyes you are.’

Shona smiled at the maid who seemed to have been with her family for ever. Born in Glasgow, Morag had come to the island as a young girl as maid to her mother. On her death she had transferred her devotion to Shona, and since returning to the island she attended to all her personal needs. ‘It’s funny you should say that, Morag. Someone else said the same thing to me earlier.’

‘Well now! Anyone I know?’ she asked, fluffing up the lace on the sleeves.

Shona lowered her head to hide the sudden flush that sprang to her cheeks, which the mere thought of Captain Fitzgerald brought about. Knowing she would be in his presence in just a short while caused her pulse to leap and a thrill to rush through her. Morag’s question summoned her back from her lovely reverie.

‘I’m afraid not—but we are expecting him to dine with us tonight. He’s the captain of the Ocean Pearl—Captain Fitzgerald.’

‘And is he handsome, this Captain Fitzgerald?’ Morag thought that he must be if the glow in Shona’s eyes was anything to go by.

Raising her head, Shona flashed a brilliant smile. ‘Oh, yes, Morag, he is very handsome. Very handsome indeed.’

‘Then it’s a good thing you’re looking your best.’

Morag was fastening the tiny buttons down the back of her dress and they failed to note Carmelita’s entry into the chamber.

‘Are you finished, Shona?’ Carmelita enquired sharply, concealing her envy as she glanced at her sister-in-law in her stunning gown.

Morag quickly fastened the last button, then stepped away and quietly disappeared from the room.

Carmelita was petite and sultry, with long black hair and deep brown eyes. Ever since Shona had returned from England to find Carmelita married to her brother, they had never got along. When they had first set eyes on each other, Carmelita’s back had stiffened, her shoulders arched and her hair had seemed to bristle. Like a cat, Shona had thought. A suspicious, angry, threatened cat.

‘You made quite a spectacle of yourself this afternoon,’ Carmelita reproached, giving her an accusing stare. ‘Really, Shona, your want of conduct is embarrassing your brother dreadfully. He was most displeased.’

Shona stiffened at the rebuke, but she said nothing, knowing any argument would only make Carmelita more determined to be unpleasant. Carmelita resented the responsibility Shona represented and Shona resented her tyranny, but open hostility between them was rare. Much easier to endure, ignore and count the days until she could return to England.

‘If you insist on behaving so disgracefully,’ Carmelita continued, ‘I’m afraid Antony will have to ask you to refrain from visiting the town. Were you not his sister, you would never be welcomed in polite circles. It’s high time you put your mind to settling down instead of gallivanting about the island at every opportunity.’

The months of schooling her features into a polite mask around her sister-in-law were forgotten—the anger Shona was feeling showed clearly on her face. When she didn’t speak, Carmelita took a step towards her, her sultry eyes narrowing. ‘We cannot both run this house,’ she said, her voice holding a quiet, dangerous threat and resentment. ‘You must see that. I intend to be mistress in every sense and I will not let you stand in my way.’

While Carmelita was obviously willing to fight, Shona did not intend to make it easy for her. ‘You may rest assured, Carmelita, that I have no intention of marrying just to please you. Melrose Hill is still my home.’

‘Perhaps it is, but I am mistress here now. If you dispute that, then you know what you can do.’ She turned to the door. ‘The house is large, but not large enough for both of us. So don’t push me, you wretched girl, or you’ll find yourself without a home in short order. Much good your stubborn pride will do you then!’ In a swirl of light blue chenille, she marched across the room. ‘Here is Antony now.’ She gave her husband an exasperated look. ‘You speak to your sister, Antony. She won’t listen to me. The sooner she is wed with a husband and children to occupy her time, the better we shall all be.’

On that note Carmelita went out, determined to have her way in this. She meant what she had said. There was no room for two mistresses at Melrose Hill and, while ever the servants deferred to Shona, Melrose Hill would never truly be hers.

When Carmelita had left, Shona finally allowed her defences to crumble. Her shoulders slumped.

It was at times like this that she missed her father. The suddenness of his death had stunned her—even now she found it difficult to accept. He had seemed so full of life for a man of sixty-five. Yet however much she wished otherwise, he was dead and buried, for ever gone from her sight and company. She had sailed from England to Santamaria only to find on arrival that Melrose Hill was no long her home, her one sure haven. Having loved the time she had spent in England and missing the friends she had made, she was desperate to return and would do almost anything to bring that about. But she was honest enough to admit that her life on Santamaria could not be described as unpleasant.

Alone with her brother, she looked at him and decided to ask him directly. She looked into his eyes and said, ‘Are you as desperate as Carmelita would have me believe for me to marry, Antony?’

He hesitated. Shona saw regret in his face for a moment. Then his expression hardened and he said firmly, ‘Yes, yes, I am.’

His words nipped Shona’s pride and she stared at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes. He held her look. She saw that he meant what he said and she was deeply disappointed.

Sensitive to his wife’s condition and determined not to have her upset in any way at this time, heedless of Shona’s distress, Antony said, ‘It must be settled soon. You know what Carmelita is like. There will never be peace between the two of you, so I am of the opinion that it would be best if you were to leave. Ever since you came home you’ve been living a sense of reproach to Carmelita. Listen, Shona—’

‘No, you listen, Antony. You wouldn’t be talking about reproach if you hadn’t wed Carmelita. She called me a liability earlier. So I deduce that means she wants rid of me.’

‘Rid?’

‘Yes, rid of me, disable me, pack me off somewhere, anywhere, as long as it’s far away from Santamaria.’

Antony’s face became flushed with anger. ‘Stop this, Shona. There is very little I can do about your disagreements, is there?’

‘Except take her side.’

‘I don’t want to take her side. I don’t need to. I have a high regard for both of you. But Carmelita does have a point. Damn it all, Shona! Are you set to be a spinster who rejects every man that comes courting? You have the looks and the wealth to choose among the finest families in Europe and the Caribbean, but you dally like some dreamy-eyed girl waiting for her knight on a white charger who will never arrive.’

‘I am not a silly girl, Antony, and nor am I fanciful,’ she retorted sharply.

‘Be that as it may, the subject can no longer be put off indefinitely. John Filligrew is an unattached, wealthy young man who is smitten by you. He won’t wait for ever.’

Shona gave him a look of disdain. ‘Me and John Filligrew? He is personable, I grant you, and having known him all my life I am very fond of him and we are good friends, but I really would rather die a spinster than attach myself to him for the rest of my life. Let me go back to England, Antony. I would like that and I would be far enough away from Carmelita not to trouble her.’

‘Absolutely not! Father stipulated that you were not to return to England until you have a husband to take care of you. I intend to abide by that. I know what you are like, don’t forget. Away from my protection and without a husband to guide you, I shudder to think what you might get up to.’

‘Thank you for the vote of confidence,’ Shona said drily. ‘But I will not give up on this. I will go back—even if I have to wait until I am of an age when you no longer have any control over me. You could write to Aunt Augusta or Thomas and ask them to keep an eye on me,’ she suggested bravely. Thomas was their cousin, at twenty-nine he was six years younger than Antony and a minister of the church. As a boy and then a youth, he had visited them on Santamaria on two occasions with his parents, Aunt Augusta and Uncle James. Shona adored him and missed him terribly. She had so enjoyed seeing him when she had been in England.

‘As far as I am aware Thomas is having time off from his work, and, since coming out of mourning, Aunt Augusta is too involved with her social life to take charge of an unattached female. He gave her a hard look. ‘Before you go down to meet our guests, I must ask you not to anger Carmelita further.’

That look made Shona shrink. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Antony nodded as if there was no doubt about it.

Having had her fill of reprimands for one day, Shona brushed by him and proceeded along the long corridor to the stairs. She needed to reflect on her options before she took any further steps to resolve her future. One thing was certain. Things could not go on as they were. She had no illusions about her brother. Her greatest fear was that if she failed to find a husband of her own choosing to marry, he would find one for her.

Yes, she longed to return to London. She wanted to dance in ballrooms where gliding, beautifully attired couples waltzed about the floor. She wanted to shop in all the fashionable shops, to promenade in Hyde Park and have handsome bucks falling over each other when they turned to look at her. But, she reasoned with the hard-headed practicality that usually balanced out her dreamy side, she could not have any of that without a husband by her side.

Being in England with time spent in London had given her a taste for an independent life, but like most young women she was a romantic at heart and had long since accepted that she would have to marry eventually. She had no objection to this. Indeed, she welcomed it, providing she could marry a man of her choosing—a man she loved.

Chapter Two

Most wary of the extra guest, Shona made her way down the wide curved staircase with as much stealth as she could manage. At the entrance to the great hall, she halted, suddenly aware of the pounding of her heart. When her eyes focused on Captain Fitzgerald standing near the door, staring out on to the veranda, everyone else faded into the background. An odd, melting sensation came over her, a sensation that somehow made breathing difficult and made her heart race as if she had been running.

Attired in elegant evening dress and buckled shoes, with his height and sun-bronzed complexion, Captain Fitzgerald appeared highly conspicuous, standing there breathing vigour and vitality. He affected the company like a fresh wind. His curling hair, drawn back and held at his nape by a thin black ribbon, gleamed a deep burnished brown above a pristine white neckcloth and ivory brocade waistcoat, while his powerful shoulders filled his olive-green coat to perfection.

A rugged pirate in gentleman’s garb, Shona reflected.

His chiselled profile was touched by the warm light of the candles and the growing ache in her breast attested to the degree of his handsomeness. She observed him reach up to tug at his neckcloth as if it might be too confining and wondered if he might feel ill at ease in his formal attire. But he must have known how to conduct himself at social functions—or at least how to charm the female sex. As soon as they began to gather, he was surrounded by half a dozen ladies who were eager to make his acquaintance. Captain Fitzgerald greeted them all with an ease that could not fail to set their feminine hearts aflutter.

In an attempt to regain her serenity, Shona let out a slow steadying breath and entered the hall, bringing him about to face her as the heels of her blue slippers tapped against the oak floor. He wore an expression of utter boredom on his face, an expression that altered dramatically when his eyes met hers.

Excusing himself, a smile tugging at his lips, he moved across the hall with the grace and speed of a jungle cat. She could not take her eyes off the way he moved—his easy grace, the suppleness of his limbs and the oiled machinery of his body.

The way he carried himself made it easy to believe that all that was said about him was true. Power, danger and bold vitality emanated from every line of his towering physique. When he halted before her he bowed with a grand sweeping gesture. Then Shona met his eyes. At that precise moment she became convinced that there were no eyes in all the world that shone brighter than those which now smiled at her. As she stared into those translucent depths, it was easy for her to imagine a woman being swept away by admiration for him without a single word being uttered.

What the devil was the matter with her? What was it about this man that he should have this effect on her, she who had held in scorn all the gentlemen who had done their best to ingratiate themselves into her good graces?

Mentally casting off the spell he unwittingly cast, she scolded herself for acting as addled as a dazzled schoolgirl.

Smiling, he looked down at her while his eyes plumbed the depths of her beauty.

‘Welcome to Melrose Hill, Captain Fitzgerald. I hope you enjoy your evening.’

‘I am enjoying it already,’ he murmured for her ears alone.

Shona was used to the admiration of young men and though she liked it well enough—what girl wouldn’t?—Captain Fitzgerald was the first to stir her senses and capture her imagination. ‘What is your opinion of Santamaria? Is it to your liking?’

‘Very much so—from what I’ve seen of it.’

‘And how does it compare with Virginia?’

‘Very well. I do have some basic common knowledge of the colonies, but I’m from England, not Virginia, as you seem to have surmised.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know, but you do have connections there.’

Zack folded his hands behind his back and appeared to look thoughtful. ‘I do have a shipyard and warehouses in Virginia—indeed, it would be difficult for me to conduct my business without them, but my home is in London.’

‘And after Martinique, London is your next port of call?’

He nodded, having suddenly become fascinated with the advantage his height gave him. Standing a full head above Miss McKenzie, he had a very pleasurable view of what lay beneath her demure bodice whenever he chanced to look that way, which was rather often. The high swell of her creamy breasts was a tantalising sight for any man and Zack most certainly enjoyed this treat.

While he was speaking, other guests began to arrive—thirty all told, some officers of the vessels in the harbour and merchants who had made their home on Santamaria. One of the footmen announced dinner.

Carmelita turned to her husband. ‘We’d better go in. Captain Fitzgerald, will you bring my sister-in-law along?’ she urged as she took her husband’s arm and moved towards the dining room.

‘It will be my pleasure.’ Zack gallantly presented his arm to the golden-haired beauty, at the same time catching her hand and pulling it through the crook of his elbow, not giving her a chance to deny him.

Shona yielded rather than make a scene, but behind Carmelita’s back she glared up at him and hissed, ‘You are quite outrageous, Captain.’

‘Has anyone told you,’ he breathed, blithely ignoring her irritation as he bent his head near hers, ‘how beautiful you are?’

She lifted her slim nose to a higher elevation, avoiding any reply. Still, she could not quell the stirring of pleasure his words aroused. At the table, he held her chair as she slipped into it. Thoughtfully she watched him walk around the table to take a place opposite her. That was the moment she realised a solution to her future course of action might be staring her in the face, a solution that would enable her to cast off the shackles her brother had placed on her that bound her to the island. But could she bolster the courage to carry out the wild plan she had suddenly conceived?

* * *

With eyes cold and unrevealing, Carmelita observed the pair and the looks that passed between them. She was suddenly inspired. Of course, Captain Fitzgerald was the critical factor. If the two of them should form an attachment, the combination could be explosive. Her mind was racing. An expression of calculating scheming was pasted on her face and she was feeling a little breathless with excitement.

* * *

The dinner was a relaxed affair and extremely civilised, and at times seemed quite unreal. On the one hand the table appointments were elegant, the English fare Zack favoured excellent, the service of the footmen everything that could be desired—and the delectable Miss Shona McKenzie in his line of vision at all times.

Reflecting on her proposal that she intended to put to Captain Fitzgerald, Shona glanced at him. The decision made, her resolution seemed a fantasy, dreamed up by someone other than herself. But he was magnificent, exuding the kind of strength and masculinity that women found extremely appealing. He didn’t appear to be entirely at ease with Antony. His manner towards him was civil, but stiff, wary. However, he looked as if he had perfected the knack of making a woman feel special—he was bending close to Mrs Frobisher seated next to him, listening attentively and watching the elderly lady with those silver-grey eyes. The same eyes that had looked her over appreciatively earlier.

The conversation was about what was happening in Europe and America, combined with the usual supper-party trivia, leisurely and varied and well marked with ship owners’ diverse opinions on the interests of their profession, while the ladies discussed the various society magazines and fripperies that had been brought on one of the vessels. Shona was in animated conversation with the foppish John Filligrew, a boyishly handsome youth of twenty-one with high colour in his smooth cheeks and a tangle of coppery curls. But every now and then she could feel a pair of silver-grey eyes watching her with a predatory stare and her head would turn and her eyes would meet those of Captain Fitzgerald.