Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  “Yes, ma’am.” The nursemaid collected the tray.

  With her usual rocking motion, Alex waddled down the hall. When she strolled into the drawing room, she was nonplussed to discover a somewhat rugged, but altogether quite handsome, young man waiting.

  Blessed with unruly black hair, green eyes, and chiseled cheek bones, he would have set many a heart aflutter in the ton’s ballrooms, if not for his dusty, well-worn overcoat. No, he had not fit her expectations of one of London’s most prominent and popular designers. And he carried no portfolio. Instead, an old trunk, which had seen better days, rested just inside the door.

  “Mr. Harper, I presume?” She extended her hand. “I am Mrs. Collingwood.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He retreated a step.

  “You are Mr. Harper, the designer I employed to decorate the nursery?” Alex inquired.

  “No, ma’am.” He shook his head and shuffled his feet. “I am here about the listing for a stablemaster.”

  “My mistake, as I expect someone else.” She laughed. “But the stable is my husband’s responsibility, so you must speak with Captain Collingwood. If you would follow me, I will show you to the study.”

  “What about my things?” He shifted his weight and blushed.

  “You may leave them here.” And then she whirled about and made for Jason’s study, with the curious applicant, in tow. At the door to her captain’s domain, she rapped her knuckles on the oak panel and then entered. “I apologize for the intrusion, but there is someone here to see you. He wishes to interview—”

  “Tom?” Recognition dawned in his expression, as Jason stood, rounded his desk, sidestepped her, and exchanged a vigorous handshake with the young man. “What in bloody hell are you doing here?”

  “Jason, my friend.” The interesting stranger rocked on his heels. “I understand you need a stablemaster.”

  “You know each other?” she asked, given their informal exchange.

  “We do,” her husband replied. To Tom, Jason said, “Are you serious? I thought you intended to remain in Plymouth.”

  “I did, but my plans changed, which is why I am here.” The prospective stablemaster rubbed the back of his neck. “Must I explain?”

  “No.” Jason chuckled. “I believe I get your meaning, and the job is yours, as I count myself fortunate to have you.”

  “I am grateful.” Tom grinned, when Jason chucked the stablemaster’s shoulder.

  And then Jason faced her. “Darling, allow me to introduce Tom—”

  “Beg your pardon, Captain Collingwood, but her ladyship requested the nursemaid deliver refreshments for the interview.” Phipps set the oak panel wide and bowed.

  Carrying the tray loaded with a teapot and a plate of sweets, Molly entered the study. When she glanced at Tom, the nanny sobbed and dropped the tray.

  “Molly, what is wrong?” Alex stumbled to avoid the hot tea.

  “What is he doing here?” A look of sheer horror marred her lovely features.

  “He is the new stablemaster.” Alex attempted to comfort her friend, but Molly wrenched free.

  “No.” The nursemaid crossed and uncrossed her arms. “Not him. Anyone but him.”

  “But—why?” Puzzled, Alex glanced at Jason, then Tom, and then Molly. “For heaven’s sake, what is the matter?”

  As Molly wept, she trembled. “You have hired my Mr. Penniman.”

  #

  “He must go. I insist upon it.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I will not have him in my home.”

  “Tom resides not in our home. He lives in the stable house, with the other hands.”

  “Jason.”

  “Alex.” He mocked her sigh.

  “But I fear Molly will not stay, if we keep Mr. Penniman.” Alex gave Jason her back, while he untied her laces. “It is far more important to have a nanny we trust than a reliable stablemaster to tend the horses.”

  “My dear, I am not going to fire Tom, to make the nursemaid happy, as Molly does not dictate the terms of employment on this estate. And I will find no one more qualified for the position, so I refuse to surrender him.” Jason drew the bodice of her gown to her waist, steadied her with his arm, and she stepped from the garment. “You must speak with Molly. By the by, how does she fare?”

  “Terrible.” Alex frowned, sat on the edge of the bed, and lifted each foot, in turn, as he removed her stockings and garters. “She locked herself in her room and refused dinner. And she will not talk to me.”

  As Jason helped her undress, it occurred to Alex that the odd ritual had fostered a new level of intimacy between them. Despite the underlying sting of rejection and heartbreak, and the fact that they had yet to consummate their vows, they had grown together, as a couple.

  “How is Mr. Penniman?” She tugged the ribbon of her chemise. “I thought the poor man would swoon, after Molly ran from the study.”

  “In shock.” Jason deposited her clothes on a chair and shrugged from his coat and waistcoat. “He had anticipated a warmer reception.”

  “So it is true?” Given she slept naked, she scooted from the mattress, grasped the edges of her slip, and attempted to pull it over her head, but she became entangled in the linen. “He came here to renew their acquaintance?”

  “Aye.” He unknotted his cravat. “Tom loves the chit, and he intends to marry her.”

  “He told you as much?” The sheer material bunched at her shoulders, and she twisted and turned, to no avail. “Did he use those precise words?”

  “Yes.” Jason doffed his shirt, glanced in her direction, and chuckled. “Careful, darling. Let me help you. Lift your arms.”

  “Then why did he reject her in Plymouth?” She obeyed his request, and he set her free, before claiming a kiss. In that instant, it occurred to her that the same could have been said of Alex and Jason. Had her husband noted the similar circumstances? “He could have had Molly, without argument, as she wanted to marry him.”

  “I know not the private details of their relationship.” Sitting in a chair, he hauled off his boots. “I suppose he made a mistake.”

  That was the grand explanation?

  He made a mistake?

  And upon such clumsy revelations, minus compensatory groveling, all wrongs were righted, thus erasing the pain and humiliation? She must overlook countless spent tears and sleepless nights? What of her disappointment and shattered dreams? Had he honestly believed he could wipe the slate with a single prosaic sentence? Oh, no. It would take more than that to resolve their differences.

  But then Alex recalled they discussed the nanny and the stablemaster. And Molly enjoyed an unparalleled advantage: Tom’s love. As declarations were not won and lost on an everyday basis, a fact Alex knew only too well, then it remained in Molly’s best interest to accept Tom.

  Yet Mr. Penniman seemed an intelligent sort. Had he said what he expected Molly wanted to hear, in an effort to woo her? Had not Jason done the same, upon his return to England? On their wedding night, he had not promised her love, only a desire to wed her. Would that he had done so sooner.

  “I fear the matter has ended, in Molly’s estimation.” Alex returned to the four-poster she shared with her husband. “And he has no one to blame but himself.”

  “I beg to differ, my beautiful wife.” After stripping from his breeches, her captain approached the bed, naked and aroused. “The situation is not concluded, and I see not how she could pretend otherwise, given her reaction. Had Molly not cared for Tom, he could not have hurt her.”

  “I do not follow.” She perched at the edge of the down mattress, as Jason reclined, situated a pillow, and then reached for her. “Tom dismissed Molly.”

  “He acted in haste, Alex.” He held the cushion in place, as she rolled to her side and rested her head on his shoulder. “Is Molly so perfect? Has she never erred? Has she never committed deeds she later regretted?”

  “She is hurt.” As am I. “It requires time to heal such wounds.”

&n
bsp; “Well I suggest she reconsider her tack, before it is too late.” As was his way, Jason rubbed her scalp. “Grudges will not keep her warm at night.”

  “Perhaps if he were not so insistent, she might have been more amenable to reconciliation.” Alex snuggled close, with her palm on his magnificent chest, as he tucked the covers beneath her chin. “Mr. Penniman should not have expected to show up on our doorstep and demand forgiveness.”

  “What a curious statement.” Her husband tipped her head and covered her lips with his, and then he nipped her nose. “As I treasure fond memories of a charming young noblewoman who did just that, and I could not resist her.”

  In the dim light from a single candle, which sat atop the bedside table, she studied her husband. To her chagrin, she could not refute his assertion, because he was correct in his estimation. She had intentionally deceived Jason, in regard to Lance and Cara’s romance, and then she had journeyed to Plymouth in search of absolution.

  But that was in the past, as was his rejection.

  So Alex nestled amid the sheets and closed her eyes, but sleep came not for her. Myriad thoughts commanded her attention, as she weighed the significance and finer points of their discussion. At last, she sighed and drifted to the fringe of dreamland, until a repetitive motion brought her alert. Without moving, she peeked at her husband.

  The blanket rose and fell, at the location of his crotch, and he clamped his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and shifted his hips. While it had been seven months since those glorious days in Plymouth, Alex recalled, in sumptuous detail, his voluptuous methods and motives.

  Long absent hunger unfurled, flourished, and swelled within her, and heat pooled in that neglected place between her thighs. An arresting choral comprised of his grunts and groans lured her, as a lodestone. Slow and steady, she walked her fingers below his belly button and grasped a towel.

  “Alex?” At that moment, Jason flinched. “What are you doing?”

  “May I?” She skimmed her hand beneath the cloth and found him hot and hard.

  He narrowed his stare. “You wish to pleasure me?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips. “More than you know.”

  For several seconds, her husband studied her. “Might I ask a favor?”

  “Of course.” She commenced the decadent maneuver, just as he liked it.

  “Will you grant me the same privilege with your body?” He hissed, as she fondled the pouch at the base of his erection. “I need to touch you, Alex.”

  A host of refusals traipsed the tip of her tongue. “All right.”

  With a wicked grin, her captain pulled her closer, set his lips to hers, parted her legs, and instigated a full-scale assault on her most intimate flesh. And the ice encasing her heart melted.

  #

  August had seen the end to the Battle of the Pyrenees, after the reinforced British Fourth Division, under the leadership of Arthur Wellesley, Marquess of Wellington, forced Soult and two French corps to retreat into France. Such action summoned the full compliment of the Brethren of the Coast into combat, much to Jason’s frustration.

  When he received official correspondence from Admiral Douglas, Jason had lamented the timing, because he had, at last, breached his wife’s defenses. Ever since that first amazing night, when Alex had stunned him with a brilliant flanking maneuver and assumed command of his Jolly Roger, he had lauded her naughty finger work with a stout, one-gun salute, every successive dusk and dawn. And she never failed to fire his cannon, although she still refused to make love to him.

  And he had yet to gain significant ground beyond their bedchamber, so the rift in their relationship consumed his thoughts, to the detriment of all else. The goal was not the issue, as Jason knew precisely what he wanted from his wife, yet he knew not how to obtain what he desired, given he had rejected her offer in Plymouth.

  Again and again, her declaration haunted his dreams. In an embarrassing instance of everlasting shame he might never live down, he had accused her of attempting to trap him into marriage and then questioned her motives. Alex’s reply, completely unforeseen, had rendered him speechless and dizzy, and it echoed in his ears, even now.

  Because I love you.

  And in a moment of unmitigated stupidity, he had refused to wed her. Were his present pain half so great as hers, she had suffered cruelly at his hands. In happier times, she had called him the captain of her heart, and he ached to occupy such a prominent position in her life.

  “Jason, are you ready?” Alex stood in the entryway of his study. “Your trunks are packed and loaded, and I ordered the cook to prepare a substantial meal for your journey.”

  “You know me so well.” With his maps and charts secured, he gazed at his bride and her disarming gown of pale yellow, which boasted a lace-trimmed bodice that accentuated her generous bosom. “Come here.”

  “Should I close the door?” She cast him a shy smile. “Do you intend to make inappropriate advances?”

  “Yes.” He winked. “But I submit it is impossible for me to make inappropriate advances, as I am your husband and, therefore, licensed to sail your harbor, at will.”

  “Reprobate.” Her giggle belied the insult.

  “Have I ever pretended otherwise?” As he drew her into his embrace, she blushed. “You were unutterably captivating this morning, sweetheart.”

  “Something to remember me by.” How Jason longed for that glow with which Alex had always greeted him, but she remained locked in a dense, ever-present cocoon of reserve tinged with melancholia, which pervaded their every interaction. “And what will you do aboard ship, without my busy hands?”

  “Redevelop callouses.” Because the chair behind his desk would envelop them in a cloud of dust, and might not support their combined weight, he steered her toward the old sofa. He assumed a comfortable position and then slapped his thighs. “Have a seat, love.”

  “But the staff awaits, and—”

  “Please, darling.” He patted her bottom. “Allow me to bestow upon you an equally sweet recollection, that you may think of me, with fondness, while I am at sea.”

  Palpable hesitation invested her frame, and then she sidestepped his legs and settled into his lap. “Be quick, as you must depart before noon.”

  “You do know how to undermine a man’s confidence, Alex.” Still, Jason flicked up her skirts and initiated some naughty finger work, of his own. Of course, he had lied, in part, regarding the purposive nature of their interlude, as he sought to commit her awe-inspiring audial accompaniment to memory, which he would replay in his bunk aboard the Intrepid.

  A chorus of breathy sighs and half-smothered shrieks lauded his efforts, as he held Alex. And Jason longed to kiss his wife, but he refused to stifle her sultry moans, which he coveted as a priceless treasure. All too soon, she twined her fingers in his hair, yanked his head, and gave her scream of completion into his mouth. Hers was the most resplendent release he had ever witnessed.

  “May I make a confession without fear of reprisal?” His bride rested against his chest.

  “Of course.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  “I had worried we could hurt the babes with our questionable behavior.” She nuzzled him.

  “That is a sound, sensible conclusion, sweetheart.” He pulled down her skirt.

  Alex sat upright. “Then why are you laughing?”

  “Because I find you absolutely arresting.” With that, he scooted to the edge of the sofa. “Now, I must away.”

  “Have you any idea what your mission entails?” Alex stood, and he followed suit. “Did the admiral’s missive give you any expectation of the tenure?”

  “No, love.” Jason collected his belongings and offered his escort. “Now, see me to the coach.”

  Together, they navigated the hall, turned right at the foyer, and stepped into the sunlight from a cloudless sky. The staff formed a line, and he bade farewell to Gertie and Arnold. In the forecourt, he turned and slipped an arm about Alex.

  “Take
care of yourself and my heirs.” He cupped her cheek. “I will not have my wife waning.”

  “Yes, sir.” She cast him a timid smile. “And you do the same.”

  “I will.” Conscious of the crowd gathered, Jason claimed a brief kiss and hopped into the coach. “Drive on.”

  The traveling equipage lurched forward, and he reclined in the squabs. The servants filed into the house, but his bride waved and remained on the graveled drive. The team picked up speed, after they completed the curve. For some reason he could not explain, he kept his gaze fixed on his lady. As the horses steered into the straightaway, he stuck his head out the window, just as Alex buried her face in her hands.

  “Hoi, hold hard.” Jason flung open the door before the coach came to a halt, and he leaped from the moving gig. Running at a full pace, he crossed the yard in mere seconds. “Alex.”

  She jerked, glanced at him, and held her arms wide. “Jason.”

  “Darling.” With care for the babes, he turned her to the side and hugged her tight. “Why the tears, love?”

  “Because you are leaving, and I know not when I shall see you again.” She wept and sobbed without restraint. “I am afraid.”

  “What do you mean, as I shall return, as soon as I complete my mission.” With his handkerchief, he dried her cheeks. “What have you to fear?”

  “I had thought you might prefer to remain in London.” Alex shivered and inhaled a shaky breath. “And the prospect of childbirth scares me.”

  “What could have possibly given you such a ridiculous notion?” He daubed her cute little nose.

  “Because you never stated otherwise.” A fresh spate of tears coursed her creamy complexion. “And most men of the ton abandon their pregnant wives to the country, while they seek divertissements elsewhere.”

  “Alex, look at me.” He tipped her chin and pinned her stare. “I am no man of the ton. And I plan to attend the birth of our babes, if I have to move heaven and earth to be here. I promise, I will be with you. Now tell me you believe me, love, as I need to hear it.”