Marrying Christopher Read Online Free Page A

death,” Christopher said, though he knew much of the public held that view. It was the reason he’d been able to purchase such an affordable passage on the Amanda May ,one of the first steamships set to cross the Atlantic and in record-breaking time.
    “For your sake, I hope you are right,” the coachman said, his voice so full of doomsday that Christopher had to work to hold in a laugh. The coachman and the driver hefted the trunk between them and, still looking wary, followed Christopher along the dock and to the gangway. For a half second he wondered if they were going to deposit his trunk there and leave him to find someone else to help with it. But after a few surreptitious glances at the ropes securing the Amanda May , they started up the ramp and boarded the ship.
    For all the activity bustling on the docks below, the ship’s deck appeared deserted. Christopher nodded to a spot out of the way, and the coachmen put his trunk down and were off, hastily retreating the way they’d come.
    Christopher held back the urge to chuckle as they practically ran down to the dock. He didn’t see why the addition of a paddlewheel, steam engine, and smokestack to a sailing ship should cause such a stir. But Captain Gower had done just that with his “newfangled” invention. Christopher could only feel thankful for that and for the advertisement he’d happened upon when he’d been in London last spring.
    “Our first passenger.” Christopher turned as Gower himself strode across the deck. Christopher had met him once before, nearly two months ago, when he’d come to the public viewing of the Amanda May . Grey peppered the hair at the captain’s temples, and his skin had the weathered look of a sailor, but his round face appeared jovial, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
    “Welcome.” Captain Gower stuck out his hand, and Christopher took it, pleased to feel that the captain’s grasp was strong and solid.
    “Christopher Thatcher, sir,” he said. “Eager to be off.”
    “Not a fugitive, are you?” the captain asked in a tone that didn’t reveal whether or not he was in jest.
    “No. But I had to fight my way from my sisters’ grasps, and I’m feeling somewhat relieved to have that behind me.” A fleeting discomfort pulsed through Christopher’s chest as he recalled their tearful farewell. He’d known Helen to cry a lot, but he couldn’t recall Grace having ever shed so many tears. He tried to take comfort in knowing that he’d left both of his sisters in more-than-capable hands.
    And with Crayton shipped off to France now… There was no longer anything holding him back from his dreams. From here on out, I make my own way. I am bound by no one and nothing. The choices I make will be my own, not anything I am compelled to.
    “Well then, welcome aboard,” the captain said once more. “Marc, our cabin boy, will help you stow your trunk.” As if on cue, a lad of about fourteen appeared on deck, just behind the captain.
    “Take any cabin you’d like on the port side— take all of them, if you want,” Captain Gower said, grunting. “You’re the only male passenger we’ve got this voyage. Cowards, these Englishmen are. I’ve no doubt I’ll fill her full on the return trip from America. Little wonder she won her independence fighting against a bunch of pasty Englishmen.” He shook his head. “Three women will be joining us, and we’ve got a fine crew, but you’ll have plenty of time to yourself for the next four weeks.” Pivoting sharply, he strode away in the direction he’d come, as if he’d had all of the talking that he could stomach.
    Christopher called a thank-you anyway and reached down to lift one end of his trunk. The cabin boy, Marc, already held the other, and together they lifted it easily, Marc’s end rising so quickly that his face registered surprise at the trunk’s light weight.
    “I don’t have much with me,” Christopher said by way of explanation. “Probably