Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  A delightful hearth occupied the middle of the sidewall, with an old black stove situated to the left. A large washbasin inhabited one corner, and a square table and chairs for two hugged a window, which overlooked the drive.

  “Where shall I deposit your trunk, Miss Seymour?” The footman paused in the entryway.

  “My bedchamber will be fine.” Alex gazed at the charwoman. “Can you show me to my quarters, Molly?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The young woman stammered, as she shuffled her feet. “Your quarters, ma’am?”

  “Yes.” Alex clasped her hands, as her plan progressed to perfection. “Where do I sleep? And I should like to change from my traveling dress.”

  “Perhaps your brother forgot to inform you this cottage has only one bedchamber.” The maid shifted her weight. “Do you suppose Cap’n intended for you to take a room at the inn?”

  Alex had not anticipated that none too minor hiccup. In truth, she had not known what to expect of Jason’s rented accommodations, but she had envisioned the usual palatial dwelling—a grand house, with chambers aplenty and a dependable staff. While the minuscule abode possessed unvarnished appeal, it was rather rustic for her taste, and it was a vast deal less than she required.

  Facing the concerted and perplexing stares of Molly and the footman, Alex sought a suitable rejoinder, as she had to rid herself of the meddlesome interlopers before Jason returned and found her waiting, because she was not half so assured of her welcome.

  “My brother is quite the gentleman, so I am positive he would want me to have privacy, and Jason will sleep on the sofa.” Even as she uttered the pathetic claim, because it was obvious the piece of furniture could never support Jason’s outstretched frame, Alex braced for a lightning strike.

  “If you say so, ma’am.” Casting a doubtful glance at the object in question, Molly walked to a rear door. “This way, please.”

  A decent-sized bed laden with timeworn quilts and down pillows held pride of place in the adjoining suite, if she could call it that. A single night table sat just to the left, with a small wash area to the right. Yes, her captain was a fastidious sort. Beyond an arched doorway posited a dressing room, including a chest and an armoire.

  With a smile, Alex entered the closet and claimed a coat from a wall peg. Fingering a mother-of-pearl button, she summoned heartwarming images from the past, when Jason had draped the frock over her shoulders, after she had been caught in the rain with Cara. With the wool pressed to her cheek, she closed her eyes and inhaled his signature sandalwood scent.

  “Shall I unpack your trunk, Miss Seymour?” the charwoman asked in a small voice.

  “Please, do so.” Alex returned the garment to the peg and then peered from side to side. “Tell me, Molly, if there is only one bedchamber, where does the valet sleep?”

  “The valet, ma’am?” Molly blinked.

  “Indeed.” Alex noted the tattered rug at the footboard and decided it would have to be replaced. “You know, Jason’s manservant? Does he reside elsewhere?”

  “I am sorry, Miss Seymour, but Cap’n has no valet.” Molly propped open the lid on the trunk. “I believe he tends himself.”

  “Oh?” A chill of unease danced a merry jig down her spine. “So you are the sole servant Jason employs?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Molly bent to set a pair of slippers on the floor. “Cap’n hired me to clean the cottage, wash his clothes, and prepare his evening meal. To my knowledge, he takes care of everything else.”

  Now that manifested another kink in her grand scheme. Given her hasty flight from London, and the deception upon which her plan relied, Alex had departed sans lady’s maid. Perhaps Jason could tie and untie her laces, as that might aid her campaign to win his heart.

  So as Molly smoothed the wrinkles from various gowns, Alex escorted the footman to the door and bade him farewell, with instructions to return at her written summons. And then she waved to the driver, as the coach lurched forward and eventually disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  As she reassessed her bucolic accommodations, for which she had been entirely unprepared, Alex supposed she could cry. Yet she recalled her married Brethren sisters had confronted similar, if not worse, circumstances when they wagered everything for love.

  In an attempt to evade the parson’s noose, Caroline had stowed away aboard Dalton’s ship, whereupon Trevor mistook her for a courtesan and kidnapped her. Sabrina had spent a summer transforming herself into a true English lady to win Everett. And only last year, Cara had thrown caution to the wind and seduced Lance. At long last, Alex understood their motivation, carefully inscribed in the Brethren oath.

  For love and comradeship we live.

  In the end, each lady had married the man of her dreams, only after they had breached the limits of polite society, and Alex resolved to follow in their successful paths. So for her, there was no going back. For good or ill, she had crossed her Rubicon.

  #

  The sun had sunk well below the yardarm, when Jason steered his mount toward the single-stall stable at the rear of the cottage he had rented, while repairs to the Intrepid were completed. After securing the horse, he tugged off his gloves as he rounded the side of the house. It was then he noticed smoke billowing from the chimney.

  “Bloody hell.” Jason hastened his stride. “How many times have I told that harebrained girl not to leave a fire burning in the hearth? Does she wish to destroy my home away from home?”

  And then it occurred to him that Molly might still labor at her chores, given he had amassed a mountain of mending for the efficient charwoman. At the front entrance, he tried the knob, but the bolt had been set, so he drew a key from his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the door. When he crossed the threshold, he rapped his knuckles to the oak panel.

  “Molly?” He glanced left and then right. “Are you there?”

  A roaring blaze warmed the room, against the chilly night air, a stewpot sat on the stove, and a tempting aroma teased his nose and his belly, as Jason shrugged from his greatcoat and tossed it over the back of a chair.

  After loosening the laces at each wrist, he inched up his sleeves and walked to the washstand in the corner. As he lifted a pitcher and filled the basin, he peered over his shoulder. The house was as silent as a tomb.

  “I suppose I shall have to speak with Molly.” He huffed a breath, grabbed a bar of soap, worked a thick lather, and scrubbed his face. With a healthy splash of water, he rinsed away the suds and then, with eyes closed, he reached for a towel.

  “Good evening, Captain of my heart.”

  Jason froze.

  The world as he knew tilted in a violent shift, which left him reeling. Dizzy, he breathed into the cloth and told himself he had not heard what he had just heard. To gain a measure of stability, he dropped the towel and rested both hands at either side of the basin.

  “Will you not welcome me to your humble abode?”

  And there it was, his downfall, the sultry, throaty voice that never failed to rouse his Jolly Roger, which woke with a vengeance just then. With his stare fixed on the wall, he swallowed hard. “Alex? Is that you?”

  “You were expecting someone else?” She giggled, and his knees buckled.

  Stiffening his spine, Jason marshaled his wits and turned to address his unforeseen guest. As he gazed at the woman he had spent the better part of a fortnight envisioning in his bed, pulse points fired, and his loins ignited. “What are you doing here?”

  “That is not the most flattering reception I have ever received.” Inclining her head, she cast him the flirty pout that always bent him to her will, and such knowledge bolstered his defenses. “I seem to recall you are far more skilled at greetings, sir. Have you not missed me? I have missed you.”

  Gowned in burgundy silk, his favorite color, a point of fact she knew well, with her brown locks piled high in carefree curls, Alex could rival the most skilled courtesans in England. In an act of infinite unfairness, she exuded an air of sexual prowess no woman of ge
ntle breeding should possess, and coupled with her beauty, she was lethal. The French perfume she wore enticed his senses—well, not his senses, but another more prominent part of his anatomy.

  Jason was undone.

  Before he realized he had moved, he had crossed the room. In mere seconds, he drew Alex into his arms, and her soft curves melted against him. God, it felt good to hold her again. When their lips met, they ignited from the point of contact, until sumptuous heat cocooned them in their own private paradise.

  With his hands, he revisited her shapely curves and pinched a pert nipple through the bodice of her dress, as he flicked and suckled her tongue. “Alex, how I have ached for you.”

  “And I you, Jason.” And then she caressed his erection through his painfully constrictive wool breeches.

  Emitting a sigh of unutterable delight, he rested his cheek to her hair, closed his eyes, and reveled in her touch. And then he wondered where his society maiden had gained such intimate knowledge, because he had never fortified her arsenal with that provocative education. In a flash, unanswered questions peppered his conscience and, thereby, deflated every inch of him.

  Jason retreated, held Alex at arm’s length, and scrutinized the dangerous debutante who tempted him beyond reason. Her chest heaved as she breathed in erratic pants, and she licked her kiss-swollen flesh.

  “What is wrong?” She reached for him.

  “Alex, just stand there, and do not move from that spot.” With a few strides, he put much needed distance between them, so he could cool his blood. “I have not written, and I never apprised you of my whereabouts, so how did you find me?”

  “Why are you avoiding me?” She appeared genuinely hurt. “You ignored my invitation to join us for the holidays, but I see you received my gift, and it suits you. Yet you sent me no present, in kind.”

  Jason opened his mouth to voice a denial but faltered.

  Indeed, she was correct in her assertion, as he wore the expertly tailored garment at that very moment. It prevailed as his most favored accouterment because Alex had given it to him. And tucked in his waistcoat pocket, safe and snug, was the ring he had planned to bestow upon the woman he had intended to make his fiancée—until he learned of her deception.

  “Answer my question.” He rested hands on hips. “How did you find me?”

  “Does it signify?” She lowered her chin. “I have traveled all the way from London, just to be with you. Are you not happy to see me?”

  “I will have the truth, Alex.”

  “Oh, if you must.” She stomped a foot. “I got your directive from Damian.”

  “What?” Jason scratched his temple. “Your brother knows you have journeyed unchaperoned to Plymouth?”

  “Not exactly.” Now she averted her gaze and garnered Jason’s suspicion. “But you could allay any concerns regarding my lack of chaperone by doing the honorable by me, and I should be thrilled to accommodate you.”

  “Upon my word, but you are bold.” And that singular characteristic was what drew him to her, as a bee to honey. “Out with it—now.”

  “If you must know, I obtained your address from my brother’s estate ledger, when he spent the night at his bachelor lodging.” She wrung her fingers. “And Damian most certainly does not know I am here, else he would heat my posterior.”

  “The truth, at last.” And she piqued his curiosity as well as his ire. “So where does he believe you reside, at present?”

  “I am sure he is not concerned.” She scrutinized the hem of her sleeve.

  “I will have the whole of it, Lady Seymour.” How could he ever trust her again?

  “If you really must know, he thinks I am at Sabrina’s.” She huffed a breath.

  “Conspiring again?” He ought to put her over his knee and spank her.

  “No.” She frowned. “I told Sabrina I retired to the country, with Elaine.”

  “And Elaine?”

  “Presumes I am visiting Caroline.”

  “And Caroline?”

  “Labors under the assumption that I chose to remain in London.”

  “Deceit comes easy for you.” And inside him something shattered with that realization.

  “Jason, please, let me explain.” How sincere she sounded, yet she fooled him not. “I was motivated by good intentions, and I have apologized countless times. Will you never forgive me?”

  “You claim good intentions, even as you dissemble?” He snorted. “Have we not been down this road?”

  “But I only wish to set things right between us.” Her shoulders slumped. “Is that not a noble cause?”

  “By compounding your lies? You are mistaken if you think I am attracted to your ability to spin falsehoods.” Now he found his stride. “I submit your moral compass is greatly skewed.”

  “When you put it that way, it sounds rather devious.” Her chin quivered. “So this is my reward for all my hard work?”

  “I do not mince words, Alex.” Jason groaned. “And you think yourself deserving of a reward? I ought to tan your hide for this stunt.”

  “If it will improve our relations, then so be it.” With the noble hauteur one would expect of the daughter of a duke, she stepped in his direction. “As must needs, I would gladly offer my bottom for your inspection.”

  “Oh, no.” He sheltered behind the sofa, given her propensity to evade his defenses. “Keep away from me.”

  “But I only want to touch you.” She favored him with a naughty grin. “You never complained before.”

  The inference, stark in its simplicity, brought an unfamiliar and unwelcome burn to his cheeks, as he had passed many evenings with Alex, engaging in inappropriate conduct in the gardens of some of London’s most fashionable residences. And regardless of his outward demeanor, he cared for her, which is why her deception had devastated him.

  At last, Jason relented. “Alex, why have you come here?”

  “I already told you.” She whisked a wayward tendril behind her ear. “I wish to make amends, and I shall obey your every command, if only you will give me a chance, so I might restore your good opinion.”

  “You never should have toyed with my favor, in the first place.” How many nights he had tossed and turned, in torment, as a result of her game. “As long as I live, I will never understand how you could trifle with my affection.”

  “I never trifled with your affection, as I guard it with my life. But can you not comprehend loyalty, allegiance, or commitment to a longtime friend?” And then Alex had done something he hadn’t foreseen. She retreated. “If you find such basic concepts foreign, if familial ties do not signify, then I should pack my trunk and summon my coach, as we do not suit, much to my displeasure and disappointment, and I have made a grave mistake.”

  How was it possible that the lady who had lied to Jason now made him feel a complete idiot? In truth, he should have known better than to challenge Alex. Any other woman would have cowered beneath his penetrating stare, while Alex had not the sagacity to blush.

  “There is sufficient light for me to walk into the village.” She turned on a heel. “I shall take a room at the inn.”

  “Wait.” His lady halted but had not faced him, and he speared his fingers through his hair. “Are you sincere in your desire to set things right between us?”

  “I am determined.” She stiffened her spine. “If you will afford me the opportunity.”

  “And what have you to offer in your defense?” He needed to gauge her response. “How shall you entice me?”

  “What would you have of me?” Alex whirled about and met his gaze, and he was shocked to spy tears in her blue eyes. “I will do anything to restore your faith in me.”

  Given her altered demeanor, which underscored a heretofore-nonexistent vulnerability, Jason mulled the possibilities. And then a brilliant idea shot to the fore, one that would provide a measure of recompense for his wounded pride, while exacting a well-deserved comeuppance for the inimitable but spoiled debutante.

  “You may assist M
olly in the household chores.” Lowering his chin, he poised for her reply.

  “I beg your pardon?” At first, Alex blinked, and then she sputtered. “You wish me to cook and clean, as a servant?”

  “Indeed.” As triumph surged in his frame, Jason smiled, because he had finally flapped the hitherto unflappable Lady Seymour. “You might also aid with the mending pile, as I am rather rough on clothes.”

  “But I am unaccustomed to such work.” The poor darling paled and appeared as if she might swoon. “And I am of noble blood.”

  “Then you should summon your coach, and surrender your ill-fated campaign, my dear.” Not for a minute had he believed Alex would actually quit the field. “As I am no lord of the manor and hold no titles. As an ordinary man of the sea, I maintain an estate just outside London, and a home in Hampstead Heath. My properties are, no doubt, modest by your standards, thus my staff is small, as are my needs.” Jason had baited the hook, and now he prepared to reel in his lady. “Perhaps you no longer fancy a union with me?”

  “How dare you disparage my abilities, even as you make light of my regard?” With high dudgeon, Alex marched to stand toe to toe with him. “I can learn anything, when I set my mind to it.”

  He bit his tongue against laughter and shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “I do say.” Her eyes flared. “Have no fear, as I shall meet your challenge, and you had better meet mine.”

  CAPTAIN OF HER HEART

  CHAPTER TWO

  The hinges creaked, the door slammed shut, and Alex roused from a most pleasant but inappropriate dream, which featured her erstwhile fervent suitor in happier days. Rubbing the back of her neck, she yawned. “Jason, is that you?”

  “No, ma’am.” The charwoman sneezed. “It is I—Molly.”

  Bolting upright, Alex clutched the blanket to her chin. Just as quick, she winced, as a sharp pain in her lower back reminded her of the uncomfortable night spent on the sofa. “Good morning.”