"Considering the narrowness of his theology, I doubt many here would qualify as respectable. Besides, there is the additional problem of our own religions."

"This won't be a mass," she said. "He's not a priest."

"He's a minister. The marriage will, of necessity, not...be a mass," he finished awkwardly.

"And therefore not a real marriage."

Not to her, he realized. And Sebastian had already acknowledged he had no idea about the legal ramification of such a match.However...

"It may possibly be considered real by the courts."

"The French courts or the English ones?What could either possibly have to do with this?"

"If the question arose," he hedged.

"IfJulian contested the marriage, do you mean?"

That hadn't been what he meant, but it was a consideration. "Your guardian or anyone else," he said. "I know that to you any vows we exchange before this man would be meaningless. I'm simply telling you that to others they may not be."

"And to you?What would such vows mean to you?"

What would they mean?he wondered, trying to be both logical and objective. Would he consider himself bound by such a union? "Tildeath do us part" bound?

If, for example,Pilar chose to deny that the vows were binding once they reachedEngland, would he still consider himself married.Then he realized that was not really the question.

If she chose to deny those vows, would he be able to let her go? Would he be able to watch her hold her head at that proud tilt as she placed her hand on that of some simperingLondon fop and danced away from him? Even worse, would he let Delgado arrive, with all the pomp of the Spanish court behind him, and reclaim his fiancee?

As he hesitated, her eyes held his. When the answer to her question had been delayed too long, she turned her face away, the angle of her chin rising even as he watched.

"They would mean," he said, putting his hands on her upper arms and forcing her to face him, "that I have no other way to get you out ofFrance and away from your guardian. When we get toEngland , we can sort through the legal ramifications of what we're being forced to do here."

For a moment, she said nothing. "Then perhaps it would be better if you conveyed me to Paris, Captain Sinclair."

"To... Delgado?"

"At least I understand his motives."

"His motives in what?" he said, feeling a surge of resentment that, after all he had tried to do, she was comparing him unfavorably to that bastard. "His motives in killing your father," he reminded her brutally.

Her mouth tightened. "In desiring to marry me," she said.

"Apparently he had the same motives for both. I'm trying to keep you safe, from him and from what you see around you. If you truly prefer either of those choices, then I assure you I won't insist on this marriage."

Her eyes left his face to consider the rough-hewn, battle-weary veterans around her. Unwashed, wearing threadbare uniforms that had seen them through years of service, they were also unkempt, untutored and uncultured.

When her gaze finally returned to his face, his voice was lower and more intense. "Or perhaps you would like me to find you another British officer to marry so that he might then convey you safely toEngland . My brother would, I assure you, still honor my promise of protection."

"Your comments are insulting, Captain Sinclair."

"My comments are simply the reiteration of your choices,DonaPilar . Which of them you make is up to you."

He had once called her a coward. That was not the word he wanted to use now, but he couldn't see that telling her how pigheaded she was being was apt to win her agreement.

The breath she finally took was deep enough to lift her breasts, making him too aware of the low neckline of the blouse she wore. Something he didn't want to think about.

Not now. Not while he was trying to convince her to enter into a very necessary marriage of convenience. A marriage that might not be either a marriage or convenient, but one that was, in these circumstances, certainly necessary.

"That man isn't a priest," she said again.

"Perhaps not," he conceded, "but if he agrees to marry us, will you let him? Will you exchange vows with me, and trust that as soon as I get you toEngland and to safety, I shall endeavor to do whatever is within my power to make this right?"

Exactly what that might be, he admitted, he had no idea.

"A Papist?" the ReverendDargood Reynolds said.

His mud-colored eyes considered the flawless skin andmidnight hair of the daughter of the lateConde del Castillo as if they were somehow offensive.

"My betrothed is Catholic," Sebastian confirmed, since there was little point in denying the obvious.

"And now she wishes to join the covenant of true believers?"

If it would get this man's signature on a document proclaiming he andPilarwere husband and wife, Sebastian thought, then he would agree that she did. Agree that they both did. At this point, he would have agreed to anything short of eternal perdition. And he doubted, given their predicament, that lie would come close to qualifying him for that punishment.

"She wishes to marry me," he said. "And I wish to marry her."

"To save her immortal soul?"

To save her body from a brutal and despicable madman.

"Yes."

As the lie came out of his mouth, it seemed he caught a whiff of sulfur lingering in the air from the sermon they had just heard.

"Does she believe in the Lord Jesus as her savior?"

"Of course,"Pilar said disdainfully.

Sebastian had cautioned her to silence, but he could tell by her tone that she was rapidly approaching the point where she would turn and walk away, even if it meant accepting another of those choices he had threatened her with.

"Will you wed us?" he asked Reynolds, pressing the decision.

"You seem to be in a great hurry."

"In case you hadn't noticed, those transports are loading," Sebastian said in exasperation, pointing at the waiting ships. "According to the quartermaster, I need documentation that this marriage has taken place in order to take this woman aboard them. If you don't wish to help me save her immortal soul, then perhaps you'll be good enough to direct me to another of your brethren who won't be so stingy with his authority to offer that salvation."

"My authority comes from God, sir, and you have no right to question it."

"I'm not questioning it. I'm asking you to use it to wed me to this Papist, so that as her lawful husband I may teach her the errors of her ways."

His fingers tightened aroundPilar's shoulder so hard that he felt her flinch. It was as forceful a reminder to keep her mouth shut as he could manage under the circumstances.

Incredibly, it seemed to work. As he and Reynolds watched, her chin came up. Her dark eyes flashed him a look that spoke volumes. Her mouth, however, remained closed in a line that could be called nothing short of obstinate.

"You're sure, myson, that you're up to the job?" the ReverendDargood Reynolds asked.

Sebastian could have sworn he'd heard a note of sympathy in the question.

"I'm sure that if I don't undertake to try, no one else in her country or in this one ever shall. She'll be lost forever. Do you really wish to have that on your conscience?"

He could feel the small shoulder stiffen indignantly beneath his fingers, but he didn't ease his hold.

Instead, his fingers tightened warningly again.

"And you promise to instruct her in the true path?"

Vague enough to win his agreement, Sebastian decided. And apparently vague enough to winPilar's too, for remarkably she continued to hold her tongue.

"To the very best of my ability," Sebastian said, and again felt the depth of the breath the woman beside him took as the preacher nodded his agreement.

"It seems very...small,"Pilar said,looking doubtfully around the cabin they'd been assigned.

"At least we'll have some privacy," Sebastian responded.

Having seen the other parts of the ship as they made their way here, she knew that it was incredibly crowded below decks. Sebastian had told her that many of the soldiers would simply spread a makeshift pallet topside tonight, sleeping under the stars.Providing, of course, that they had calm weather for the crossing.

"Are you a good sailor?" he asked.

She turned at the question, but found it difficult to meet his eyes. She'd had difficulty doing so since they had gone through the exchange of vows back on the dock.

As much as she might try to convince herself that there was nothing binding about a marriage ceremony that was not a mass performed by someone who was not a priest, the pledges they had repeated seemed to argue otherwise. Despite the fiery sermon they had listened to, the Reverend Reynolds had spoken the simple words with a dignity she'd found unexpectedly moving. And Sebastian's deep voice, when he had made those vows, had seemed incredibly solemn.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I've never been on a boat."

"Ship," he corrected, smiling at her, more out of relief that they were aboard, she believed, than from pleasure in her company. "Then we must hope for a smooth crossing."

That was a hope, however, which was not destined to come to fruition. They sailed with the evening tide and before they were out of the harbor, the motion of the ship, along with the smells that permeated the area below deck--tar and fish and the scent of too many unwashed bodies pressed too closely into the space--had givenPilar the answer to his question.

"I think..." she whispered, having controlled her growing nausea as long as she thought possible. "I think that perhaps I am not a good sailor."

In the darkness, she heard Sebastian rise to light the lantern that hung from a hook in the middle of the cabin. He knelt beside the narrow bunk on which she was lying, looking down into her face, just as he had when he'd taken her to the house inMadrid .

The lantern moved with the motion of the ship, alternately lighting and then casting his face into shadow.

Fighting her sickness, she managed to hold her eyes open long enough to discover that he was neither angry nor disgusted with her weakness. Actually, she thought, he seemed to be slightly amused.

"Some fresh air, I think," he said, putting his hand under her arm to urge her up.

She didn't want to move, afraid that she might embarrass herself if she did, but the thought of breathing something other than the stale, malodorous assortment of scents below deck was enticing. Enough so that she let him help her off the bunk and lead her to the door.

Once there, Sebastian removed his cloak from the hook to wrap it around her. Then, just as he had while he'd talked to the man who had married them, he kept his arm around her shoulders. He guided her unerringly through the darkness, down the passageway and past the sleeping troopers, none of whom stirred.

As they climbed the narrow stairs that led up to the deck, like a miracle, the first inhalation of brine-scented breeze dispelled her queasiness. She lifted her face into a fine mist, either the remnants of a storm or of the spray produced as the ship cut through the water.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes shifting upward to watch the full-bellied sails snap taut in the wind. Above them, the clouds had parted to reveal a few stars dotting amidnight sky.

"Not the sea, then," he said.

She lowered her eyes, to find his on the water of the channel, which churned whitely along the hull.

"Not the sea?"

"You weren't seasick," he said, turning to look at her. "Humanity sick, perhaps. All those bodies packed too tightly together."

The imagery the phrase produced wasn't that of the sleeping men below. It was of a dark garden instead, and of the muscled wall of his chest pressed against her breasts. For a moment, it seemed she could again feel him breathing, his body moving in unison with her own.

The motion of the ship, she told herself resolutely. Still, in the back of her mind she couldn't disavow the knowledge that this man was now her husband. Perhaps the church might not recognize their union, but one made just the same. Whether or not it could legally be dissolved when they reachedEngland ...

"Tell me about your family," she said, realizing only now how much she was dreading what was to come.

"My mother and father are both dead," Sebastian said, his voice distant.Nostalgic, perhaps. "They died within a year of each other. My father first, and then... As strange as it may sound, I think my mother chose to follow him as quickly as she could arrange it."

"Not... suicide."

He laughed, and the chill she had felt at his choice of words dissipated. "Not suicide.Grief perhaps.

Loneliness. They were the whole world to one another."

The whole world to one another.Just asher own mother and father had been.Just as she had always imagined...

"What of her children?" she asked. She could not bear to dwell on what she had always imagined about this moment.Her wedding night. "Didn't she think of them?"

"We were grown men by that time. At least we thought we were," he said, his voice still touched with amusement. "At least I thought I was. Since they're older, I'm sure that was true for my brothers as well."

His eyes were focused once more on the sea. She studied his profile, willing to wait for the rest. And when it came, the amusement had been supplanted again by the nostalgia she had heard before.

"Dare inherited the title, and I can think of no one more suited to it. Aristocratic to the core," he said.

"He can freeze you with a look.Incredible presence."