Page 16 of The Lyon’s Lass

Candles lit up the room from sconces on the walls and a lamp that appeared to be clamped to the middle of the table. It made sense. The ship was constantly moving, everything needed to be held in place by some means.

There was a low lip around the edge of the table and Maisy assumed it was to help keep things from sliding off. It was clear which seat belonged to the captain. The chair at the end of the table facing the door was more elaborate than the others. It made her think of a throne for a king. In a way she guessed he was the ruler of this small kingdom while the ship was out to sea.

He came in while she was hovering at the table. As if he did it every day, he pulled out the chair opposite his throne and waited for her to sit before he slid her in closer to the table.

Jack took the seat to her right and eyed the food in front of him. She placed a staying hand on his arm, worried he might dive in like a starved beggar.

Iain chuckled. “I remember being his age. I could have cleared the table myself.”

She smiled. “It only seems to get worse.”

“It evened out for me when I was about twenty. He still has some to grow.”

Jack made a sign to her asking what he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so after Iain had spoken and she wondered why. Then, looking at her new husband as he spoke, she realized the problem. His beard.

The hair obscured his mouth, making it difficult for Jack to read his lips.

She quickly signed what Iain had said and he signed back.

“Jack says he will not be able to wait much longer. He fears he will lose his manners if we do not say grace soon and dig in.”

“Yes. Grace. Uh…”

“Go ahead then.” She said to her brother who closed his eyes and signed a prayer for their food and a safe journey. He closed with asking protection over father and even Nelson. Maisy translated it all for Iain who frowned at the last part, but joined in for the final “amen.”

Jack set upon the food like a famished beast, and she and Iain shared a smile. One of the crew served the room and moved to pour her a glass of wine. She swallowed and reached out to stop him.

“No, thank you.” She couldn’t even think about wine without having her stomach roll unhappily.

Iain chuckled from his end of the table.

“Please bring the lady a dram instead of the wine,” Iain requested. The man looked a bit surprised, but did as he was asked.

Maisy had tasted whisky before. While she wasn’t pleased by the burn, the smoky flavor left on her tongue had been pleasant. She took a sip, waiting for the bite to hit the back of her throat, but instead experienced smooth warmth.

“Oh. That is quite good.”

Iain frowned at his plate. Did he not want her to like it? Then another thought hit her.

“I assure you, I’m not a drunkard,” she said before really considering her words. It was just very important that he understand what happened at the ball was not her normal nature.

Jack laughed while tearing off a bit of bread, before shoving it in his mouth like an animal.

“You were drunk the first time I met you.”

“Yes. That was intentional. Not meeting you or what happened…” She waved her hand to brush over the topic not appropriate for dinner. “You see, I needed to find a husband who would agree to my terms, and my friend, Caroline, knew of Mrs. Dove-Lyon and her matchmaking of women who have a strained reputation. I needed to alter my own as quickly as possible so she would assist me.”

He tilted his head. “It was a clever plan. As here we are.”

“I never apologized for what you were forced into on my behalf. It was clear that you’d not realized you were winning a wife instead of a prize.”

“I blame Hodge.” He snorted. “I’m certain the man knew the stakes and allowed me to go on without correcting my assumption.” He held his hands toward her. “I am not overly disappointed.”

“Oh?” she couldn’t help herself from asking.

“Instead of just winning the funds to save the castle, I was also able to assist with your difficulties. Why wouldn’t one help someone in need if it is no inconvenience at all?”

She looked down at her lap, feeling a bit stung. Nothing he’d said was a surprise, yet she’d been hoping for something more. Did she want him to say he was glad to be married to her? That would be ridiculous.