The wonder in her voice made him feel like smiling. He looked at the ship, then turned back to her. "Yes, she is beautiful," he agreed.
"She must weigh at least five thousand tons."
"Not quite two," he corrected. "We aren't in church, Taylor. You don't have to whisper."
She hadn't realized she'd been whispering; she laughed over her own behavior. "She's very majestic looking, isn't she?" she remarked in a louder tone of voice.
Lucas didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. He had sailed on larger, more impressive ships, but the look of pleasure he saw on her face made him keep that bit of information to himself.
Taylor was turning out to be a bit of a puzzle. He knew she came from an extremely wealthy family and, therefore, he assumed she'd had every advantage. Yet now she acted as though this were her first journey into the big city. She wasn't a country farm girl, but damned if she weren't acting like one.
She caught him staring down at her. "Am I gawking, Mr. Ross?"
"Just a little."
She smiled. "I fear I'm not very sophisticated," she admitted.
"Have you never left England before?"
"I've gone to Scotland many, many times," she replied. "But I've never gone on the ocean. I'm looking forward to the experience."
"Let's hope you don't get seasick."
"Oh, I won't. I'm a very strong woman," Taylor boasted. "I never get sick."
He gave her a look that suggested he didn't believe her. She decided to turn the topic. "My grandfather Taylor and his brother-in-law, Andrew, sailed on the original Emerald. Andrew was too young to remember the adventure, but Grandfather was full of stories about life aboard ship and his friendship with the notorious nearsighted pirate named Black Harry. Have you ever heard of him, Mr. Ross?"
Lucas shook his head. "Do your grandfather and your uncle know you're sailing on yet another Emerald?"
"I told Uncle Andrew, and he gave his blessing. Grandfather Taylor died over ten years ago, but in my heart I'm certain he knows. I believe he watches out for me. You may laugh, if you're inclined, but I think of him as my protector. He won't let anything happen to me."
He was married to a crazy woman. Lucas didn't know what to say in response to such foolish beliefs. He was a realist. She obviously wasn't. Such naivete would get her killed in the wilderness. But she wasn't going to Montana Territory, he reminded himself. She was going to Boston. It was civilized there and somewhat safe.
Still, to his way of thinking, she needed a live protector, not a ghost. "Did you say your uncle Andrew knows? Does that mean he's alive?"
"He's very much alive," she replied. "He lives in the Highlands of Scotland. He's considered the black sheep of the family," she added with a good deal of pride in her voice. "Madam often worried I would become overly influenced by her younger brother."
They were hemmed in by traffic circling the corner now, and since it was impossible for them to go any further until the mail carts were unloaded, Lucas had an excuse for continuing the conversation. He was becoming fascinated by his bride. She was extremely open about her family and her past. Her honesty was refreshing. He was used to guarding every word he said. The less people knew about him and his family, the better off everyone would be. Taylor appeared to believe differently. She told her every thought, or so it seemed to him.
"Why did your grandmother worry you'd be influenced by her brother?"
"Why? Because he's peculiar," she answered.
"I see," Lucas replied for lack of anything better to say.
"My great-uncle is a wonderful teacher, and he taught me many valuable lessons."
"Such as?"
"He taught me how to play the piano in grand style."
He didn't laugh. "I suppose that will come in handy in the chamber rooms of Boston."
He sounded a little condescending to her. "He also taught me all about guns and rifles, Mr. Ross. Uncle
Andrew is a respected collector. If I were going to live on the frontier, I would be able to take care of myself," she added. "He trained me well, sir. And so, you see, his lessons gave me both polish and practicality."
"Could you shoot a man?"
She hesitated a long minute before answering. "I suppose I could," she said. "It would depend."
"Depend on what?" He couldn't help smiling. He couldn't imagine her holding a gun, let alone firing the thing.
She thought he was making fun of her. Why else would he be smiling? Her spine stiffened in reaction to her own conclusion.
Her voice was full of authority when she explained her position. "It would depend upon the circumstances. If I were protecting someone I loved, I most certainly could injure someone. I wouldn't want to," she hastily added. "But I would. What about you?" she asked then. "Could you take another man's life?"
He didn't hesitate in giving his answer. "Without blinking an eye."
It wasn't what he said as much as how he said it that made Taylor start worrying. They might be discussing the weather, so matter-of-fact was his attitude. It was unnerving. She couldn't seem to stop herself from asking, "Have you killed before?"
He rolled his eyes heavenward. "I was in the war against the South, Taylor. Of course I killed."
"For duty," she said, relieved. "I read all about the conflict between the States."
"So you were named after your grandfather."
It was apparent he wanted to change the subject. She was happy to accommodate him. "Yes."
He nodded, dismissed the topic, then tightened his hold on her hand and started walking again. He shoved his way through the crowd. She kept trying to watch where she was going and to keep her gaze on the ship at the same time. She stumbled twice. Lucas noticed the second time. He slowed down then, and when the crowd became too pressing, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.
It wasn't until they were standing side by side in the center of the throng of passengers inside the steam tender and on their way to the Emerald that the magnitude of what she was doing hit her full force. She should have been terrified. She usually worried over a plan of action until it became as worn as an old rosary bead, but she didn't have a single qualm or a second thought this time. Madam had suggested the marriage and Taylor had gone right along with the idea. What was done was done.
She was content. She wasn't saddened or filled with regrets because she was leaving her homeland. She wouldn't even look back toward the shore as some of the other young ladies were doing. One woman was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. Another was openly weeping. Taylor's reaction was just the opposite. She felt like laughing, her joy barely contained. She was overwhelmed by the right-ness of what she was doing. Lucas still had his arm around her shoulders. She moved closer, trying to gain a little more of his warmth. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt that safe with her escort; she couldn't bring herself to think of him as her husband yet, and it really didn't matter anyway she supposed, since they would soon part company.
Taylor thought about the babies. Soon she would be able to hold them again. She wondered if she would recognize them. When last she'd seen them, they weren't even crawling. Now they must be walking and talking, and Lord, she could barely contain her excitement. She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving because she was finally on her way, and then she said another prayer in anticipation of the new life she was about to begin.
She would collect the little girls as soon as she reached Boston, and then she would take them to safety. She would hide them where Uncle Malcolm would never think to look.
A glimmer of an idea came into her mind. Redemption. My, but she liked the sound of that. Could it be the sanctuary she was looking for? She let out a little sigh. Redemption.