Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  “So the deed is done?” Caroline inquired in a small voice.

  “Physical relations complicate everything,” Rebecca stated grimly.

  “Yes, and you should have heard him. After all that we shared, he proposed marriage.” She sobbed. “It was awful.”

  “Wait a minute.” Sabrina sat upright. “Lance proposed?”

  Cara dipped her chin.

  “Then why are you crying?” With unabashed enthusiasm, Sabrina chucked Cara on the shoulder. “That is wonderful news. We must begin wedding preparations, posthaste.”

  Though well intended, her younger sister’s words only compounded Cara’s sorrow. Drowning in misery, she wailed even louder.

  “Hold hard, Brie.” Caroline frowned. “Cara, what are you not telling us?”

  Dragging her sleeve across her eyes, in an unforgivable breach of decorum, Cara hiccuped. “After we—you know—he said we had to get married. He said he compromised me and owed it to me.”

  “Damn fool.” Rebecca humphed. “He is no different than the rest.”

  “You know, men are not stupid.” Caroline grimaced. “They just behave very stupidly.”

  “Which makes us want to kill them,” Sabrina added.

  “With an ax,” Rebecca chimed.

  “Oh, good one, Becca.” Caroline stretched her legs, as the Brethren wives giggled in concert.

  “Ladies, focus, please.” Cara wiped her nose. “I am in a terrible fix.”

  “Of course, you are.” Sabrina huffed a breath. “After I warned you not to skin his rabbit before you secured his declaration, you ignored my advice.”

  “Easy, Brie. We are none of us perfect.” Rebecca hugged a pillow. “Who are we to judge, given our own mistakes?”

  “And just what do you infer?” Sabrina narrowed her stare. “Everett did not weigh anchor in my harbor until we were properly wed, and I presume the same can be said for both of you.”

  Rebecca peered at Caroline. In unison, they blinked.

  “I do not believe it.” Sabrina stood and stomped a foot. “Am I to understand that I, alone, waited until the vows were spoken to surrender my maidenhead? Sisters, I am disappointed in you.”

  “Well, in all fairness, Trevor kidnapped me.” Caroline snapped her fingers. “And he thought me a courtesan, so he chased my skirts from when first we met. How could I resist?”

  “And what is your excuse?” Sabrina arched a brow.

  To wit Rebecca shrugged and stated, “I was a spy.”

  “You dare call me a rebel.” Brie shook her head. “And I am the only one who observed all strictures in obeisance of societal expectations.”

  “Well, mine was a precarious position, as I pursued a lethal traitor, you know.” Rebecca fidgeted in her chair. “So I had no choice but to seduce Dirk, else I might have forever lost my chance.”

  Again, an appreciable ensemble of shock filled the air, and Cara was grateful for the distraction.

  The door to the chamber opened, and Alex made a grand entry, with the butler in tow bearing a tray laden with plates of shortbread, teacakes, and a small pot. After the manservant quit the room, Alex lifted the delicate porcelain and poured the hot tea.

  As she passed a cup to Cara, the younger Seymour frowned. “You started without me.”

  “No, we did not.” Sabrina swiped a square of shortbread from the plate. “She is just upset.”

  “Sorry, Alex.” Cara examined the steaming liquid. “I suppose I am a tad emotional.”

  “Do not apologize.” Alex settled in a Hepplewhite chair. “Now then, tell us what happened with Lance.”

  “Where should I begin?” Cara bit her lip and glanced at Sabrina. “Well, things did not turn out quite as I had hoped.”

  “I believe I guessed that.” With elbows resting on her thighs, Alex leaned forward. “Did you kiss him again?” she asked with a wistful expression.

  “Again?” Sabrina inquired, her countenance one of surprise.

  “Oh, dear.” Cara averted her gaze and tried not to spill her tea. Never had she intended to share her humiliation with the full compliment of the Brethren women, save Elaine.

  “Oops.” Alex covered her mouth with her hand. “I had assumed you told Sabrina.”

  “Told me—what? You confided in her and not me?” Sabrina snorted. “But I am your sister.”

  “She is my sister, too,” Alex argued.

  “But she is mine by birth,” Sabrina responded, quick as a wink.

  “Ladies, please.” Rebecca scooted to the edge of her seat. “We are here for Cara’s sake and to bring another man low.”

  “Becca is right.” Caroline pointed for emphasis. “We must not fight each other, as we are not the enemy.”

  “Precisely.” Rebecca smacked a fist to a palm. “Our adversary is the male sex, a being of superior physical strength but a vast deal inferior mental acumen.”

  “This is dreadful.” Cara closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I should have kept my feelings to myself. Or perhaps I should concede defeat.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “Do not give up.”

  “Lance is a dolt.”

  “You must keep at him.”

  Her sisters fired one rebuttal after another.

  “Enough!” Cara cursed the burn of a blush in her cheeks. “I cannot think straight.”

  “Dearest, now I know you are truly out of sorts, as never have I seen you so discomposed.” Sabrina returned her cup to the tray. “How, exactly, did Lance propose?”

  Alex shot out of her chair. “He proposed!”

  Sabrina silenced her with a glare of reproach.

  “Forgive my outburst.” With lips pursed, Alex sat. “Pray, continue.”

  “Well, let me explain.” Cara inhaled deeply. “After we...kissed, he said he had compromised me and would marry me to restore my honor. He called it his duty.”

  “Men.” Sabrina snickered. “They are always the last to know they are in love. Why, I had to abandon my Everett to make him realize how much he adored me. Now he can’t live without me. Blasted idiots, the lot of them.”

  “I could not agree more, because it took my near-drowning for Trevor to declare himself,” Caroline added with a sympathetic expression.

  Then Cara gazed at Rebecca, who seemed atypically reticent. At last, Dirk’s wife sighed and said, “My no-nonsense captain professed his love on our wedding night.”

  Sabrina’s mouth fell agape. “The devil, you say.”

  “How wonderful,” Alex replied.

  “And I am positive we can induce Lance to make his testimonial in similar fashion, if not before the vows have been spoken. You know, what we need is a diversion.” Rebecca tapped a finger to her chin. “Something dramatic to force Lance to commit his heart and proclaim his devotion.”

  A dark sense of foreboding blanketed her in impenetrable gloom, and Cara shuddered. How she coveted hope, yet she had stood at that precipice and lost. So she was a tad battle shy, and with good reason. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Precisely.” Sabrina slapped her thigh. “But what?”

  “Excuse me.” Cara tried but failed to intervene.

  “I do not know.” Alex stared at the ceiling. “But it has to grab his attention. We must find a way to center his regard unreservedly on Cara.”

  “Bring him to his knees.” Caroline wrinkled her nose. “It serves him right, as the silly fool knows no other way.”

  “Caroline is correct,” Sabrina said with a curt nod. “We must rip out his heart.”

  “Rip out his heart?” Cara gulped. “But I do not want to hurt—”

  “I have got it!” Rebecca exclaimed.

  “What?” Caroline, Alex, and Sabrina inquired in unison. Cara was not sure she wanted to know their plan.

  Rebecca smiled, a cat that ate the canary smile, and lowered her chin. “What we need is competition.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Cara thought she might swoon. “You mu
st be joking.”

  “Gather round, my pretty friends.” With a flick of her wrist, Rebecca drew them near. “What is the one thing guaranteed to bring a hesitant suitor to the altar?”

  “Another man,” Caroline answered with confidence. “You are a bloody genius, Becca.”

  “Exactly,” Sabrina said with a cluck of her tongue. “All we need do is secure another candidate for Cara’s hand.”

  “I have never heard such nonsense.” Cara sipped her tea and feigned disinterest. “And where would we find someone to aid our cause? The only males of our acquaintance are Brethren. The married ones are out of the question, and Lance would not believe for a minute that Blake, Damian, or Dalton had suddenly developed a tendre for me.”

  Recognition dawned in Alex’s expression, and she snapped to attention. “I know a contender we could enlist.”

  “Who?” Sabrina inclined her head.

  “Captain Collingwood,” Alex stated with unchecked enthusiasm.

  “Do you think he will help us?” Rebecca queried.

  “Indeed.” With a sly smile, Alex boldly pronounced, “He will if I ask him.”

  #

  “Now, you wait in here until I send Conrad for you.” Alex shuffled Cara into the study at Seymour House.

  “If you insist.” In a flash, Cara whirled about and gasped. “Do you really believe this is going to work?”

  “Indubitably. Be brave, my dear. Remember, you are doing this for love.” Alex placed a sisterly kiss on Cara’s cheek and gave her a hug. “And ours is a sound scheme—we cannot fail. I mean, what could go wrong?”

  “Alex, if he is unwilling, do not press him.” Cara clenched and unclenched her fists. “I cannot bear further embarrassment.”

  “Do not worry.” She winked. “I predict that with my special brand of persuasion, he will be very cooperative.”

  Alex pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Cara quite alone with her thoughts, none of which brought her comfort. Resolved to make the best of her situation, she perched in one of the high-back chairs arranged in a half-circle before the large desk, sat upright, crossed her legs, and tucked her feet as she’d been taught. It had been a long time since she’d ventured into the man’s domain of the great home.

  As children, whenever their parents gathered at Seymour House, her generation of Brethren had cloistered amid the leather wall coverings and faint smell of cigar smoke. Of course, the boys had taken turns sitting behind the impressive, hand-tooled appointment, pretending to be lord of the manor, to which the girls played chatelaine.

  For some reason, whenever Lance positioned himself in the formidable chair at the head of the room, Cara always portrayed his lady. She had no idea when the child’s fancy had ended, and love—true love, had blossomed.

  She’d tried to talk some sense into herself once Alex, Sabrina, Caroline, and Rebecca had departed her home. Their plan seemed foolhardy at best and a useless humiliation at worst. Regardless of her feelings, and her Brethren sister’s good intentions, Lance might never see her as anything more than a friend.

  She drew the embroidered kerchief from her bodice, kissed the initials, and spread the linen square in her lap.

  For her fifteenth birthday, her father had purchased a lovely mare, and Lance taught her to ride. On their first outing in the park, the wind had unexpectedly blown from the west, and a speck of dust brought a tear to her eye. Ever the knight of her dreams, her gallant hero had sidled close, offered her the embroidered swatch, and bent his head to tend her. What she had not expected was the briefest brush of his lips to hers. Indeed, that moment reigned supreme as the most precious birthday present of her life.

  Even then, in her heart and mind, she conjured the power of his touch, his gentle caresses, as a permanent brand on her consciousness. As long as she lived, no man would ever supplant Lance. She belonged to him.

  And he belonged to her.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Douglas.” Conrad, the butler, interrupted her thoughts. “Lady Seymour awaits you in the drawing room.”

  Trembling with excitement mixed with fear, Cara strolled the long hallway, navigated the cavernous foyer, and waited with the patience of a saint as a footman opened the door. Well nigh suffocating in anxiety, she stepped into the sea green colored room.

  Captain Collingwood cast Cara a furtive glance. From their position, it was evident what form of persuasion Alex had chosen to sway her admirer. With flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, Alex batted her lashes and giggled, as Captain Collingwood whispered in her ear.

  Standing stock-still, Cara bit her lip. “If I am interrupting, I can come back.”

  “Nonsense.” Alex smiled brilliantly and gazed at her captain. “I was just telling Jason about your dilemma, and he has gallantly offered to come to your rescue.”

  “Well,” Captain Collingwood said, as he shifted his weight, “I am not entirely sure how I may be of use, but I shall be too happy to provide assistance.”

  “Oh, Jason.” Alex nudged the naval man in a manner that breached the limits of acceptable deportment for a lady of character, but Cara held her tongue against reproach. “As I explained, our poor Miss Douglas was ill-treated by a fickle suitor who availed himself of her affections and then refused to marry her.”

  “Oh, I say.” Captain Collingwood canted his head. “Am I to call out the blackguard?”

  “No.” Cara clutched her throat and swallowed hard, certain she would faint at any moment. In truth, she did not know what shocked her more—their hastily sketched plot or Alex’s behavior.

  “My dearest Captain, what a credit you are to your sex.” Alex cupped his cheek, commanding his attention. “But such a grand gesture is unnecessary, as we believe the man worthy of her hand and therefore redeemable. He simply lacks proper motivation.”

  “Indeed.” He arched a brow. “I gather that is the part I am to play?”

  “We need you to dance attendance upon Cara, and escort her to dinner. It is our hope that her wayward suitor would be inclined to make an offer were he in competition with another.” Alex averted her gaze. “After all, what would you do in similar circumstances?”

  “You mean, if some bloody aristocrat spent too much time sniffing your skirts?” His expression sobered, and his features were granite-like. “I would rip out his noble throat with my teeth.”

  Alex gasped but quickly regained her composure, and Cara stifled a snort.

  “I would consider it a personal favor, Jason,” the younger Seymour said in a hushed tone. “Of course, I require your utmost discretion.”

  He nodded once. “You shall have it, my lady.”

  Their exchange simmered with sensuous undertones, and Cara thought of Lance. Why could he not have shown similar amorous fervor after they made love? Cara was certain that, had Damian’s sister asked, the impressive Collingwood would have fallen at Alex’s feet and kissed her toes.

  Alex favored Jason with a heated glance. “I will be very grateful.”

  Captain Collingwood smiled, and although he spoke to Cara, his stare remained fixed on Alex. “Miss Douglas, I am at your service.”

  #

  As his carriage approached the entrance to the stately townhouse on Upper Brook Street, Lance scrutinized his appearance. Unwilling to admit to himself or anyone else that he was more than a little nervous at the prospect of attending his first social function since his injury, he sighed and sank into the squabs.

  To his relief, the occasion was a private dinner party at the home of his mentor, Admiral Douglas. The Brethren, his lifelong friends, were among the invited guests, as well as a few elders. Of course, the opportunity to see Cara figured heavily in his decision to accept the invitation.

  She had not graced his home with her presence since the afternoon they shared his bed. In a flash, vivid memories flooded his mind, and his skin tingled, as delicious heat poured through his loins. A sumptuous chorus of feminine cries filled his ears, sugar kisses teased his tongue, and his fingertips itched as
he recalled Cara’s velvety soft flesh. How he longed to take her in his arms and—

  “Are you in pain, Lance?”

  He came alert in an instant. Seated across from him, Elaine pouted, with a look of concern on her face. He cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. “I am fine. Why do you ask?”

  “From your expression, I thought you discomfited.” His young cousin shook her head and cast him a lopsided grin. “Perhaps it is too soon for you to socialize.”

  “Nonsense.” He clutched the walking stick at his side and mustered a smile. “I can’t stay locked in my bedchamber for the remainder of my days.”

  The carriage halted suddenly.

  “We are here.” Elaine bubbled with excitement as the footman handed her to the pavement.

  Much to his displeasure, Lance required assistance as he descended his equipage. In the doorway, Admiral Douglas stood with arms outstretched in welcome.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” The venerable naval legend gave Elaine a fatherly hug, bent to receive her peck on his cheek, and then he turned to Lance. “Good to see you up and about, my boy.”

  As they exchanged a hearty back slap, Lance chuckled. “I must say it is good to be seen, Sir.”

  “The ladies are in the drawing room.” The admiral retreated a step. “We will join them in a moment, but we have some business to conduct before we commence our celebration of your return.”

  Following years of engrained custom as a member of the Brethren of the Coast, Lance veered to the right and limped down the hall, as he mulled the reason for the impromptu meeting. Still, it was comforting to resume some semblance of normalcy in his life. At the door to the study, he rapped softly before entering the strategic headquarters of the Nautionnier Knights descended of the Templars. In the familiar half-circle of matching high-back chairs sat his brothers.

  With one unexpected addition.

  Captain Jason Collingwood, of the Royal Navy, occupied Lance’s usual seat. The tall, blonde, burly man stood as Lance and Admiral Douglas approached. Collingwood greeted Lance with an outstretched hand and a smile, which for some reason he could not discern he did not trust. “Lord Raynesford, I am pleased to see you making such a speedy recovery.”