"And so you'll just walk away from her?"
"Aye. It's the only decent thing to do. And I've done little enough of that in my lifetime."
Charles dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You're too hard on yourself, my friend. What you've done, you've done for king and country. Without you, I'd not be here. And England would not be free of villains like Silas Fenwick."
"Don't misunderstand. I don't regret what I've done. If I've helped my king and country, then it was worth the cost. But I'll not drag Ambrosia into it. She deserves better."
The king studied his face, seeing the determination, as well as the pain, in his eyes. "You're serious, my friend."
Riordan nodded.
Charles studied him with new interest. "Perhaps you need time to think on this."
"I've made my decision." Riordan bowed. "I'll go now and make myself presentable for my king."
"If you were filthy, and clad in rags, you would be the most welcome sight in the world to your king, my friend."
Charles became lost in thought as he watched his oldest and dearest friend disappear along the hall.
Love, it seemed, was never easy. Even for the strongest and bravest of hearts.
"Ambrosia. Look at you." Bethany and Darcy stopped by their sister's room on the way to the king's private chambers, where they were to break their fast with Charles.
"You think this gown too daring?" Ambrosia drew back.
"Nay." Bethany caught her hands and studied the shimmering gown of scarlet satin with a softly rounded neckline and long, tapered sleeves. "The gown is stunning."
"My hair then." She gestured to the dark locks that spilled down her back in a riot of curls. They were held off her face in a flirtatious manner by mother-of-pearl combs. "Is it too fancy?"
Darcy laughed. "Ambrosia, you look beautiful. Why are you acting so fluttery?"
"I don't know." Ambrosia touched a hand to the length of scarlet fabric she'd tied around her throat, to hide the cuts inflicted by Silas. She wanted nothing to mar this first meeting with Riordan since that horrible scene.
"It wouldn't be because of a certain sea captain, would it?" Bethany asked slyly.
Ambrosia turned several shades of pink, and the two sisters looked at each other with sudden knowledge. This would be the day Riordan Spencer would ask their grandfather's permission to wed. It was no surprise, of course. Only a blind man could miss the feelings these two had for each other.
"Come." Bethany opened the door and fairly danced down the hallway to the king's private chambers.
Beside her Darcy whispered, "Shall we pray for one more miracle?"
"Aye." Bethany caught her hand.
Ambrosia trailed more slowly. She had hoped that Riordan would come to her in her room. When he didn't, she realized that he was, like her, taking more time than usual. Wasn't that what lovers did, when they were hoping to impress each other?
She struggled to calm her frantic pulse beat as she stepped into the magnificent rooms reserved for the king's most honored guests.
This was where Charles ate when he wished to withdraw from the public. A room big enough to accommodate fifty or more people, with elegant wall hangings and comfortable chairs and chaises positioned here and there for conversation. A fire burned on the grate, adding to the soft warm glow. A table in the middle of the room had been set with the finest china, crystal and silver, all gleaming in the glow of hundreds of candles. A regal chair had been set at the head of the table. Beside it stood a liveried servant, awaiting the arrival of his master.
Ambrosia accepted a goblet of hot mulled wine and felt the warmth slip through her veins. But nothing would truly warm her until she was with Riordan.
"Ambrosia." Miss Mellon, who had been standing with Mistress Coffey, Edwina Cannon and her mother, beckoned her over. "Oh, don't you look lovely."
"Thank you, Winnie." Ambrosia smiled. "I see you managed to find a white gown."
"Aren't the dressmakers here at the palace amazing?" Mistress Cannon purred. "They had such an array of lovely things, I didn't know which to choose. I simply couldn't believe I was here, in
Hampton Court
, about to break my fast with the king. But in the end, I managed to make a choice."
"It was the same for me," Ambrosia admitted.
"You chose well, my dear." The old nurse patted her hand, then looked up with a smile. "Ah, here's your grandfather now, and old Newton." She beckoned them over. "Geoffrey. Newton. Come see how well our Ambrosia has mended."
The two men hurried over.
Geoffrey Lambert pressed a kiss to his granddaughter's cheek. "None the worse for wear, lass?"
"Nay, Grandpapa." She brightened when Riordan entered, followed by the king.
At once they all fell silent. The men bowed, while the women curtsied.
"Well, here we are now." Charles lifted a hand in greeting, then made his way to the head of the table. The others followed, taking the seats indicated by the king's butler. "Riordan, I'd like you on my right hand. Ambrosia on my left."
Geoffrey Lambert was pleased to note that he was to anchor the other end of the table, with Winifred Mellon on one side of him and Mistress Coffey on the other. Old Newton found himself between Bethany and Darcy and whispered, "Nothing like a whale between two minnows." That had the sisters giggling into their hands.
On the other side of the table were Edwina and her mother, who were looking so pale, everyone feared they might embarrass themselves by fainting yet again. Their hands trembled as they sipped their wine, and they refused almost everything being offered by the servants. In the end they picked at crusts of bread, while the others sampled thin slices of roast beef swimming in juice, salmon, mutton, joints of fowl, and biscuits still warm from the oven, offered with fruit conserve. It was indeed a feast fit for the monarch who sat among them, talking and laughing as though he'd known them for a lifetime.
Through it all, Ambrosia kept glancing across the table at Riordan, who seemed preoccupied with the mulled wine in his goblet. He answered only when spoken to, and seemed lost in his own thoughts.
Perhaps that was a good sign, she told herself. After all, a man ought to be nervous about becoming betrothed. Her own father had often told them how, after fighting off pirates, he'd sailed the Undaunted through a typhoon, and then had raced through the streets of London, refusing food or sleep until he'd proposed to his beloved Mary.
"...to the two of you."
At the king's words, Ambrosia and Riordan were both pulled from their thoughts. Their heads came up sharply. Their eyes locked on one another. Ambrosia smiled.
Riordan turned to the king. "I beg your pardon, Majesty. I fear I was distracted."
Charles smiled. "I offer a toast to the two of you. To my dear friend Riordan Spencer, and to Ambrosia Lambert and her family and friends. Because of your extraordinary courage, England still sails in smooth waters." He lifted his goblet. "Your grateful king salutes you."
Ambrosia blushed as the others lifted their glasses and sipped.
Charles cleared his throat. "And now, I must bid goodbye to my dear old friend Riordan once again."
"Goodbye?" Ambrosia looked from the king to Riordan.
"I have another ...mission I must send him on." Charles saw the look of consternation in Ambrosia's eyes and felt a wave of pity. But Riordan, who never asked anything of him, had requested this favor. He had no choice but to grant it.
When they'd argued in his chambers, Riordan had pointed out that the break must be quick and clean. And if it caused her pain, think how much suffering she would be spared in the future. It had been an eloquent plea, and one that had touched the king's heart.
"You must love her even more than I thought," he'd muttered.
Riordan had made no reply.
Now, seeing the way the others were looking at him, Riordan said, "I am your obedient servant, Majesty. I can be ready to leave at once."
"At once?" Ambrosia set down her goblet with a clatte
r. "But Riordan, we haven't ...you haven't..." She clasped her hands in her lap, struggling with all the emotions churning inside.
Desperate, she turned to the king. "Majesty, perhaps I could go with him. As the others will attest, I'm a fine sailor and can fight with a sword as well as any man."
Charles could feel the tension around the table as Riordan stared straight ahead, and Ambrosia's family gazed from one to the other with looks that ranged from compassion to outright fury, especially in the eyes of her grandfather and old Newton Findlay. Charles feared that if he didn't act quickly, there might be a war right here in the palace.
He turned to Geoffrey Lambert. "I've arranged for a ship to take you back to Cornwall. You'll board within the hour."
"What about the Skull?" Newton asked.
"She's a fine ship. It would seem the pirates of Cairn spent a good bit of England's gold to have her built. I've presented her to Riordan, to use in service to the Crown. It will be a fine replacement for the Warrior, his ship that went down." Charles stood, cutting off anything more they might have asked. "Your king will bid you goodbye when the carriages are ready to take you to the docks." He turned. "Come, Riordan. We have much to discuss before you set sail."
He swept from the room, with his old friend beside him. Leaving the others to stare after them in stunned silence.
Riordan finished packing his seabag, then walked to the window of the palace and stared out at the elegant gardens. It was the first time he could ever recall preparing for a voyage without that heady feeling of anticipation. Instead a feeling of dread had lodged in his chest, threatening to choke him.
He hated what he'd done to Ambrosia. Hated himself even more. But now it was over. Finished. She would grieve. But at least she would be safe. That was what mattered most to him. To keep her safe.
When the grieving was over, she would move on with her life. That thought had him clenching his fists. She would meet a man whose way of life was normal. A man who could give her a home. Children.
He pressed his forehead to the cool windowpane and struggled with fresh pain. The wounds he'd endured at the hands of Silas Fenwick were nothing compared to this pain in his heart. The thought of Ambrosia in the arms of another man, loving him, bearing his children, was almost more than he could bear.
"Riordan."
At the sound of his name he turned. Standing in the doorway was a vision he thought he would only see in his mind. But there she was. Wearing breeches tucked into tall boots. A colorful shirt with billowing sleeves, her hair tied back with a length of scarf. In her hand was a sword.
Under other circumstances he might have smiled. "Have you come to fight me?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On the answer to one question." He sighed. "I have no time for games, Ambrosia."
"Nor do I. The king's carriage awaits us in the courtyard."
He stiffened his spine. He could get through another minute, before his heart shattered completely. "What is your question?"
"Do you love me, Riordan?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to lie. A simple evasion, and he could send her away, knowing she would hate him for a lifetime. But he owed her the truth. He squared his shoulders. "Aye. With all my heart."
Ambrosia closed her eyes. These had been the longest steps she'd ever taken, from her chambers to his. She'd been terrified of the answer. What if he didn't love her?
What if it had all been a lie? But she'd needed to know. And now she did.
She took a deep breath.
Before she could speak, he turned away. Over his shoulder he said, "But this changes nothing, Ambrosia. I still intend to continue with this dangerous game I play for king and country."
"Then I shall play it with you."
"Nay." He turned, and she saw the fire in his eyes. "I couldn't bear to worry about you again, the way I did when you were in the clutches of Silas Fenwick."
"And I can't bear to see you hurt the way he hurt you. But if that's the choice we have, we must accept it."
"I can't. I can't bring you into such a life. Not after seeing you with your family. In your lovely home. With the affection of the people of Land's End. That's what you deserve, Ambrosia. A husband who will give you a home. Children of your own."
"Wouldn't you like those things, Riordan?"
"Aye. More than anything in this world."
"Then we'll find a way to have it all. But don't cut me out of your life, Riordan. Let me be with you. Sail with you. Fight for king and country."
He shook his head. "The worry and fear will eat at us. And after a while, it'll tear us apart."
"A wise man told me that part of loving is worrying and wondering."
"I love you too much, Ambrosia. I couldn't bear—"
She touched a finger to his lips to silence him. Heat spiraled through him, and he had to fight the overwhelming desire to crush her in his arms. Instead he took a step back.
She faced him, chin jutting as though ready for a fight. "That same wise man said that such love comes along but once in our lives. If we waste the moment worrying about what the future might hold, we could have a lifetime to regret it."
He kept his hands firmly at his sides, struggling against the need to touch her. "I can't be a traditional husband, who goes to his shop in the village in the morning and hurries home each night. I can't stop doing what I do for Charles, even if that means sailing to the New World and back."
"Nor would I ask you to. And I can't be the kind of wife who can mend a tunic or roast a goose." She touched a hand to his cheek, and he wondered how much longer he could resist this need to hold her, to kiss her lips. "But I can sail with the best of men, Riordan. And stand by your side in a fight. Isn't that enough?"
"Enough?" His voice warmed with unspoken laughter. "Though you're not the sort of woman a man has in mind when he seeks a wife, I find your offer far too tempting."
Was the warmth in his tone a sign he was weakening? She couldn't be certain, but she had to try. "If that isn't enough, there is more." Boldly she caught his face between her hands, staring deeply into his eyes with a passion that left him shaken. "I'll fight for you, Riordan. If you're down, I'll lift you up. If you fall, I'll remain beside you rather than desert you. And best of all I'll love you, Riordan. I'll love you more than any other woman could. And I'll grow old with you," she whispered fiercely. "I'll love you with my last breath and beyond, into eternity."
"God in heaven, Ambrosia." At the intensity of her words, he felt a series of tremors along his spine. He'd thought he could resist her. Could send her away, and go on with the solitary life he'd carved for himself. But with this fiery woman, resistance was impossible. She would bully and badger and bother him until he was completely worn out or won over.
And so he would yield. Like any mere man.
He dragged her into his arms and pressed his lips to her temple. "I can no longer deny it. I adore you, Ambrosia Lambert. And I intend to love you with every breath that's in me."
He covered her mouth with his and kissed her long and slow and deep, until they were both shuddering with need.
"And we'll marry? And sail together? And fight for England together?"
"Aye, my love. No matter what the danger, at least we'll face it together."
Her smile was radiant. "Oh, Riordan. Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say those words? We must find my family and tell them the news. Quickly, before the carriages depart for the ship. And the king. He'll want to know."
Riordan was laughing now. A rich, joyful sound. His heart felt lighter than it had in a lifetime. "Aye. Charles will want to know. And your grandfather, who has probably contemplated a dozen ways to maim the man who dared bring pain to his beloved granddaughter. And we'll tell them all. In just a little while. But first, Ambrosia, stay here and let me love you. It's been so long. Too long." He kissed her again until they were both breathless.
And as they lost themselves in the wonder of love,
Ambrosia thought about the man her father had sent to carry the news of his death. Had he known, even then, that Riordan Spencer would be the man to win her heart?
Oh, Papa, she thought. You told us to carry on. And we have. We shall.
With this man, she had no fear of the future. They would chart their own course. Together.
It seemed that all of Cornwall had come to the little church in Land's End for the wedding of Ambrosia Lambert to Captain Riordan Spencer.
Of course, they may have been drawn by the fact that King Charles had decided to travel to Cornwall for the event. His white-and-gold carriage, drawn by a team of six matched white horses, was being admired by all who passed by.
The vicar stood at the door of the church, his young deacon at his side, greeting the congregation. The altar was banked with masses of wildflowers, picked by the bride's sisters just that morning. The church smelled as fragrant as one of the lovely green meadows that dipped and curved along the rocky shore of Land's End.
Ambrosia had wanted to be married aboard the Undaunted. Especially since young Randolph had returned the ship unscathed from its voyage in pirate waters. But her family had persuaded her that she should be wed where her father had wed, and his father before him.
Geoffrey Lambert stood proudly in the nave of the church, watching as the pews became ever more crowded. The same people who had come to bid a final farewell to John and James were now here to celebrate Ambrosia's joy.
The circle was complete. From death had come new life. Life, he thought, that was amazing in its complexity. It took such strange twists and turns. He'd thought himself an old man, waiting to die. And suddenly, with the arrival of a stranger, he'd found new life within himself. And strengths he'd long buried.
Winifred Mellon came down from the altar, where she'd been arranging flowers, and started toward him. On her face was the sweetest smile. It elicited a matching smile from him. And old, familiar twinges around his heart that he'd thought long dead.
"Have I told you how fetching you look in that pink frock, Winnie?"
Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink as well. "Thank you, Geoffrey. And you look dashing in your captain's coat."