High Tide

Chapter 6

The remainder of the carriage ride passed in silence. Jocelyn kept her eyes averted from her husband, the full impact of her earlier actions weighing heavily upon her shoulders. A slight frown marred her features as she silently admonished herself for acting so impulsively. But still, the fact remained that although the Commodore was undeniably handsome, he was also insufferably stuffy.

How Jason had seen fit to marry her off to someone of such starchy demeanor she would never know. Oh, certainly, he had shown the capacity for kindness as evidenced by his treatment of her moments ago. But he also had shown an equally evidenced capacity for unflinching severity. ‘I am most displeased,’ she mimicked silently to herself. Glancing in her husband’s direction at last, Jocelyn was surprised to find him reclining with his head back, apparently asleep. Slowly, she inched forward until her knees were nearly touching his and waved a hand in front of his face. When he did not stir, she sat back with a muffled “hmph”, annoyed that he could find relaxation so quickly in such dreadful heat.

“Do not tax yourself, Madam,” James said suddenly. “We shall arrive momentarily.”
His eyes did not open, nor did he straighten his posture as he spoke. “I trust you are feeling better?”

Refusing to answer, Jocelyn turned her head to stare out of the window once more. Feeling better indeed, she fumed. How could she possibly be feeling better? Her gown was soaked through, was sticking to her skin and likely weighed several stone. Her waist was corseted so tightly that she could barely breathe. She had managed to lose what precious little breakfast she’d eaten that morning in an embarrassing moment of self-pity and he wanted to know if she was feeling better?

Unmoved and somewhat irritated by his wife’s sullen behavior, James finally opened his eyes. For the briefest of moments he found himself once again stunned by her beauty. Though her hair hung in damp tendrils around her face and shoulders there was no mistaking her loveliness. Dark, mahogany locks framed an angelic, heart-shaped face. High cheekbones, a slightly long but patrician nose and small, bow-shaped lips came together in a striking combination. Even more striking were her aqua eyes, the color of the sea just after a storm had passed. So expressive were those eyes, which were now flashing with unspoken anger.

Shaking himself mentally, James sat upright and adjusted his clothing. Satisfied that his uniform was not ruined beyond repair, he finally turned his attention back to his bride. “We have arrived, Madam,” he announced as the carriage came to a halt in front of a stately, but modest home.

Jocelyn turned narrowed eyes towards her husband. “I have a name, James. Please use it.”

“You would do well, Madam,” he answered, stressing the word ‘madam’, “To remember your place. Under his majesty’s laws, you are my wife and subject to my will. You will obey me and you will answer to any name or title I see fit endow upon you.”

“Is that a fact, husband?” she asked with a chillingly menacing smile turning up her lips.

Unaware that his wife’s volcanic temper was nearing eruption, James nodded stiffly. When he took her to wife, he became her lord and master. After that humiliating display in the bay, he felt it of utmost importance that he establish that fact quickly and well.

“You would do well, Sir, to remember that I am no simpering miss straight out of the school room. I have a mind and an opinion that will not be suppressed or ignored by you or by any other. While I acknowledge the injustice of government that permits you and men like my uncle to preside over my life, I will not defer to your every whim simply because you demand that I do so.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, the only evidence of James’ growing irritation. “Then it appears we are at an impasse,” he replied.

“Obviously,” she quipped, lifting her chin.

The appearance of a footman at the carriage door halted the sharp reply that been forming on the Commodore’s tongue. Picking up his had, he pushed open the door and stepped outside. He turned sharply on one heel with practiced military grace and extended his hand to his wife. Reluctantly, Jocelyn placed her palm in his. His hand was slightly calloused from many years of swordplay and sailing as it closed over hers. Her chest was still heaving slightly with indignation and she had to fight the urge to rip her hand from his grasp.

Bending at the waist, Jocelyn moved to the door of the carriage and started to step out. With her free hand she lifted her heavy, water logged skirts and tentatively placed one foot on the step. It was just as she was about to step fully from the carriage that she lost her balance yet again. The weight of her skirts became too much to carry and she tumbled forward, her hands seeking purchase wildly until they found the Commodore’s shoulders.

Despite the petty delight it would have caused him to see his young bride fall on her face in the gravel lined drive of his home, James was at heart, a gentleman and dutifully stepped forward to assist the little chit. The anger that had been boiling inside him following their confrontation moments ago became strangely absent the moment his hands found her slim waist.

The momentum that had been propelling Jocelyn towards the drive sent her crashing into her husband, flattening her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. They stood there, immobile for several moments, chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip. James grip on her waist tightened as she looked up at him, her mouth suddenly dry. Their eyes met and locked together. Her hands slipped from his shoulders and clutched his biceps, learning the strength hidden beneath his wool uniform coat.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, his voice unusually gruff.

Swallowing hard, Jocelyn replied, “Yes, thank you,” before stepping back from his embrace.

“Very good,” James remarked as he placed his hat on his head. “I had hoped to introduce you to the household staff but I should think you would prefer to retire to your rooms first.”

Jocelyn could not prevent herself from smiling. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

A maid appeared then seemingly out of the blue to escort the new mistress into the house. Confused by the fluttery feeling in her stomach that had begun the moment her body had come into contact with her husband’s, Jocelyn glanced over back over her shoulder. He stood there, tall and authoritative as though he were not wearing a soiled uniform and had not plunged headlong into the bay. He looked up then and caught her gaze. An intense expression that she did not understand crossed his face accompanied by a brief nod before he turned his attention back to the conversation he’d been having with the driver.

The butterflies dancing in her stomach began a high-tempo jig as she climbed the sun bleached steps of her new home and crossed the threshold, stepping both literally and metaphorically into the unknown.