Chapter 8

8

Enya's stomach roiled. She was going to be sick. In front of Captain O'Brien.

His dark eyes held hers in the mirror. Though she couldn't read his eyes, his expression was hard, almost daunting.

When she'd awoken a short while ago, she'd wondered if the midnight wedding at the cathedral had been a dream. Had she only imagined meeting the captain? Or had she really stood in front of the priest and spoken hasty marriage vows?

She'd wanted to believe none of it had happened.

Then she'd heard the captain's voice—and Bellamy's—when they'd arrived at the house. And she'd known she hadn't dreamed a single thing. She'd gotten married to Captain Sullivan O'Brien, a stranger.

She drew in a breath and tried to calm herself. After all, her da and Kiernan along with Bellamy all had confidence that Sullivan O'Brien was a good man and would make a worthy husband. Maybe someday she'd come to the same conclusion. But for now, she knew nothing about him.

Well she did know a few things. She knew he'd paid attention to her tiredness last night and carried her out to the barouche. She knew he was strong and yet gentle. And she knew he was honorable when he'd stepped away from the carriage and spoken parting words with her father and brother, turning down the invitation to spend the night with her.

He probably wouldn't stay away from her again, might even ask her to spend the day in bed with him. That was likely why he'd sent the servant away. But at least he'd shown restraint last night.

He stood behind her, his broad frame taking up most of the mirror. Without his captain's cap, she could see that his dark hair was thick and wavy. He was attired in a navy suit, and his face seemed to be freshly shaven, although his skin contained a faint shadow of scruff that was likely permanent.

His well-rounded face and jaw flexed in taut rigidness. What was he thinking? Did he regret their hasty marriage too? Maybe he'd come to tell her he was parting ways with her.

Before she could make sense of what he was doing, he lowered himself onto one knee next to her. She pivoted on the bench to face him. Even in his kneeling state, he was about eye level with her. He braced one arm on his upturned knee, and the rigid lines in his face seemed to soften just a little.

"We didn't get off to a very good start last night." His tone was much gentler than what he'd used for the servant. "And I apologize."

He was apologizing? When had a man ever admitted he'd made a mistake to her? Certainly not any of the men she'd ever known.

"I judged you on appearance alone, and that was unfor givable." His eyes were wide, and his brows drooped, giving him puppy-dog eyes and lending him a sincerity that was irresistible.

"Nothing is unforgivable, Captain O'Brien, to be sure. Making quick judgments is all too easy to do."

"I shouldn't have done it."

"And I shouldn't have rejected you so quickly in return."

"I feel certain you wouldn't have if I hadn't reacted as I did."

"Then let us be forgiving one another and putting our mistakes in the past."

"I would be grateful if you did."

"Very well. All is forgiven and in the past."

Though he didn't smile, his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners. "Thank you."

"You didn't wake up this morning with regrets, Captain?"

"I cannot lie. The haste did leave me spinning. And you? Did you wake up with regrets?"

"I cannot lie either. When I woke up, I wondered if I'd dreamed the marriage ceremony or if 'twas truly real."

He fumbled inside his coat pocket. "I have something that may make it more real." As he slipped his hand out, he held up a ring with a large diamond in the middle surrounded by two circular rows of more diamonds.

It was breathtaking, so much so that she couldn't keep from pressing her hands to her lips.

"I stopped by Chaseman's Jewelry Store this morning on my way here ..." His voice trailed off, and he stared at the ring, his brows furrowing as if perhaps he'd made a mistake.

Chaseman's was the finest jewelry store in St. Louis. "'Tis stunning."

"I asked Mr. Chaseman for the best ring he had, and this is the one he gave me."

"It certainly looks like the best. In fact, 'tis more than stunning. It is quite possibly the most beautiful ring I've ever seen."

"I'm only sorry I didn't have it last night to give to you at the wedding."

She shook her head and clutched her hands together in her lap. "Ach, it's too much, Captain O'Brien. I couldn't possibly accept such an exquisite ring."

He gently encircled her left wrist, giving her no choice but to extend her hand to him. "It's for you. If you'll wear it..."

Bryan hadn't given her a ring. Oh aye, he'd promised her one at their wedding ceremony. But he'd never meant to follow through. He probably hadn't thought of it again after that moment. Even though he'd pretended to be a wealthy man from a wealthy eastern family, he'd been little more than a pauper. She'd learned that truth when he'd demanded that she ask Da for money. When she'd refused, he'd slapped her.

"I won't force it upon you, Enya." Sullivan's eyes lifted to meet hers. The brown was flecked with amber, light and expectant and yet also reserved. For a man who carried himself with an intimidating fierceness, he was surprisingly gentle.

Although the doubts about her decision still warred within her, how could she refuse him, especially with him kneeling and apologizing and offering her a ring? She had to move forward with accepting this new marriage, no matter how difficult that would be and no matter how much she didn't want to be married again.

She peered down at her hand, his large fingers encircling her wrist. "You're not forcing me, Captain. I accept it and thank you for it."

"If you're sure?" He was kindly giving her the chance to tell him this wasn't what she wanted, that he wasn't what she wanted.

But she had no other option. Her father and Kiernan had made that very clear. She spread her fingers out and offered him the ring finger.

He hesitated but a moment longer, then slid the ring onto her finger, careful not to touch her needlessly. When he finished, he released his hold.

She could only stare down at the enormous ring of diamonds fit for a queen. Aye, she would have been drawn to it if she'd been the one shopping for the ring, although she never would have expected anyone to buy her something so extravagant.

So why had he done it? Most likely he was trying to win her over, soften her up, make her more willing to share the bed with him.

Regardless of his motivation, it was a generous gesture.

"Thank you, Captain O'Brien—"

"Sullivan." His tone was still soft. "Call me Sullivan."

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears and blurring the diamonds. "Thank you, Sullivan." Her voice cracked, and she quickly ducked her head, unwilling for him to see her emotion. She wasn't even sure why she was crying, except that the ache inside her chest swelled unbearably at times.

He didn't say anything, as though giving her a chance to compose herself.

She took a deep breath and blinked away the tears.

"I would like to spend some time with you today, Enya." He spoke hesitantly.

"Of course." She glanced to the bed. "I'll call for the maidservant to help me take off my gown."

"Take off ...?" His brows rose, then he scrambled to his feet and stepped away from her. " No ." He barked out the word forcefully, so much so that she shifted back on her bench, putting even more distance between them.

He towered above her, his jaw flexing with rigidness.

Had she mistaken his motives? "I assumed you joined me in my bedroom to consummate our marriage."

"No." He growled the word this time before pacing toward the door. He stopped, his rigid back facing her. He shoved his fingers into his hair and blew out a breath.

Was he leaving? She wasn't sure whether to feel relief or concern. He wasn't attracted to her the same way other men were. He'd made that clear from the very first meeting. Maybe it was her red hair. Some men didn't like red hair.

She pushed up from the bench. Usually around men she was so confident. She was able to read them well and even able to use her beauty to her advantage. But with Sullivan, not only couldn't she read him, but she suspected her womanly allure wouldn't hold any sway.

"You do want to consummate our marriage, do you not?" She tossed out the bold question. She'd never been afraid to talk directly about delicate subjects because she wasn't a delicate woman. He might as well learn that from the start. "And you're trying to make me more willing to do my wifely duties."

Sullivan's glare was out in full force. It was withering.

But she didn't cower.

"I gave you the ring," he said tersely, "because I wanted you to have the representation of my promise to you."

"What promise?"

"From our wedding vows."

"They were just words."

"They were more than words to me. They were a promise."

"Promises are easily broken."

"I never break mine."

She lifted her chin. "And I suppose you never lie either?"

"You're right. I don't lie."

She shook her head. She'd believed Bryan when he spoke his vow to love and cherish her, had believed he wanted to be with her forever, had trusted he was telling her the truth. But she'd learned that he'd said all the things she wanted to hear in the moment, and then when it came to following through, the words had meant little.

Sullivan's intense gaze narrowed in on her face. "What was his name?"

"Whose name?"

"The man who hurt you so badly."

The question sliced into her, and in the next instant all her defensiveness drained away. She felt suddenly weak and lowered herself back to the bench. Her hands trembled, and she quickly hid them in the folds of her skirt. She hoped he hadn't noticed, but his gaze was trained there.

She pressed her lips together. She didn't want to talk about Bryan—not with Sullivan, not with anyone.

Sullivan was silent for a long moment. Finally he met her gaze again, and the ire in his eyes was gone. "We will eventually consummate our marriage." His voice contained certainty. "But when we do, I want you to be in agreement."

"Have no fear. I'll agree to doing my duty."

He studied her face as if seeing deep inside to the truth about her physical relationship with Bryan and how disagreeable it had been. She wasn't a blushing person, but his scrutiny certainly made her want to blush.

"I'm a patient man."

"That's good to know." Her tone was sarcastic, and she wasn't being fair to him, but for some reason she couldn't stop herself.

Thankfully, her words seemed to bounce right off his broad, muscular chest, and he shrugged. "I'll wait until you no longer view it as your duty but instead it's something you want."

"That will never happen."

"I'll make sure it does." His voice dipped low. "In fact, I'll make sure you're the one who asks me for it."

"I won't." She'd had enough discomfort with Bryan and never wished for it again.

"In the meantime, I'll prove I'm nothing like him."

She didn't need Sullivan to clarify who he was referring to. She also already knew deep inside that Sullivan was different than Bryan. But that didn't mean she'd ever allow herself to care about him. No, she wouldn't let herself love another man. Never again.

Instead of answering, she merely lifted her chin another notch.

He turned and opened the door. He started to step through but paused and looked at her over his shoulder. "I want to spend time with you today. Have your maidservant finish your grooming, and then we'll go for a ride."

With that, he exited and closed the door behind him, not giving her the chance to protest.

And she did want to protest. She stared at the door, anger swirling inside. She didn't want to spend time with Sullivan. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any day.

But he was her husband, and as she'd realized with Bryan, she had even less control and power with a husband than she'd had in her childhood home. As a wife, she'd lost her rights and felt completely helpless.

Unfortunately she needed Sullivan, needed his name, needed his protection, needed his help if she wanted to provide a good home for her baby.

She'd do what she had to for the baby's sake. But that was all. She'd married Sullivan for convenience, not for love. And she intended to keep it that way.