Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  “I believe you.” She hiccuped.

  “Do you?” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Because I give you my word, as a nautionnier knight, I will come home, to you.”

  “All right.” And then his lady favored him with a glimpse of the old Alex, as she cast a smile that shimmered as sunlight on the ocean. Just as quick, she furrowed her brow, and the glow faded. “I miss you already.”

  “Oh, love.” Even though the coach had turned and reappeared in the forecourt, Jason cared not for propriety or prudence. Right then and there, he kissed his bride as a man just returned from an extended voyage. “I miss you, too.”

  “I have made you late.” Yet Alex clutched the lapels of his coat.

  “You may delay me, any time.” He claimed another soul-stealing kiss. “Are you recovered?”

  She simply nodded.

  It should have been easy to depart, as duty called. But something within him stirred, and Jason languished in bone-gnawing agony. No matter how hard he tried, he could not surrender his wife. For several minutes, he held her, until she sniffed and retreated.

  “I am sorry, Jason.” She shrugged. “The babes have made me a water pot.”

  “No apologies necessary, darling.” Retracing his earlier steps, he paused at the coach, brought her knuckles to his lips, stole one more kiss, and then patted her bottom. “Now go inside, my girl.”

  “Yes, sir.” She sketched a mock salute. “Please, be careful.”

  “Your wish is my command.” When she entered the house and closed the door, he returned to the coach and resumed his journey. But he noted a telltale silhouette in the drawing room window and could not help but chuckle. A strange weight blossomed in his chest, warmth suffused his muscles, and Jason grinned, as a revelation dawned. “Oh, Alex. You still care for me.”

  CAPTAIN OF HER HEART

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Thank you so much for rescheduling our appointment, Mr. Harper.” Alex smiled at the designer, as she opened the door to Jason’s domain. “This is my husband’s study, and I will pay double your usual fee if you can work your magic in a fortnight, and transform this disaster into a dream for my captain.”

  “I should be too happy to—” Mr. Harper blanched and readjusted his monocle. “Upon my word, but never have I seen the likes of this décor.”

  “Yes, it is a tad antiquated.” Wreck was more appropriate, as it was the last neglected chamber of the grand home, and not by accident. “The furnishings came with the estate.”

  “Do you mean to say Captain Collingwood actually purchased these items? They belong in a museum, as well as the refuse.” The decorator turned his nose to the centerpiece of the room. “Why is there a hole in the desk?”

  “The drawer collapsed. Oh, no. Do not—” Alex winced, as the poor man made the mistake of sitting in the chair, and a dust storm engulfed him. That particular trap she had reserved for Jason. “I am so sorry, Mr. Harper.”

  Alex tottered to his aid, as the designer shot to his feet, coughed, and wheezed. She brushed off his coat, and he blew his nose. Then he retrieved a small notepad from his pocket and borrowed the pen from the inkstand.

  “We must replace everything, your ladyship.” He sneezed, as he jotted a list. “What have you in mind?”

  “I wish to continue the mahogany trim and navy wall coverings, as that is Captain Collingwood’s favorite wood and color.” She tapped her finger to her chin and contemplated her change of heart, spurred by Jason’s promise. The improvements manifested an olive branch, of sorts. “And the desk must be hand-tooled and fit for a king, with a matching throne, in the Sheraton tradition, as I shall accept nothing less. And I should think two Hepplewhite chairs, facing the desk.”

  “What about a rendering of the Collingwood family coat of arms, which should hang over the fireplace?” Mr. Harper scratched his temple. “Have you an example?”

  “Yes.” Alex produced an old journal. “I found a drawing, when my staff removed my husband’s personal affects, in preparation for the renovation.”

  “This is perfect.” He scrutinized the sketch. “I know a local artist, and he is very skilled. If we offer him a bonus, he may be able to compose a suitable painting, in your time frame.”

  “Wonderful.” And then she bit her lip, as she pondered her next request, because she knew not how Jason would react to a certain item. “Perhaps you can recommend someone to create a small portrait, very tiny, on short notice. I am available for private sittings, as my husband is at sea.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Appleton will suffice. And what of the shelving?” The decorator grazed a ledge with his finger, the plank collapsed, knocking three additional boards to the floor, and he jumped. “We require four new bookcases.”

  “Can you include two special, wall-mounted displays, with glass doors?” Alex walked to an old trunk and lifted the lid. “My husband’s pride and joy is a collection of ancient spy glasses and compasses, which I would feature, as they are quite fascinating.”

  “And unusual.” He squatted and assessed the various items. “You know, we might acquire a Harrison chronometer, at auction, as a nice addition, given Captain Collingwood’s predilection for seafaring tools.”

  “I rely on you.” She nodded once and recalled Jason’s farewell, which brought telltale warmth to her cheeks, even now. “And I would exchange the sofa for a daybed, something substantial, as my husband possesses a robust stature.”

  “Very good, your ladyship. And what is the budget for the chronometer?” He arched a brow. “I should warn you, a Harrison could fetch a substantial sum.”

  “Spare no expense.” Alex folded her arms, as she nurtured the small amount of faith she had invested in her captain. “And I believe we are done, here. Shall we adjourn to the nursery, as I have an entirely different set of requirements for that room?”

  “Of course, your ladyship.” At the door, Mr. Harper paused, gave the study a final appraisal, and shuddered. “And I had thought I had seen it all.”

  “I understand.” Alex chuckled. “So when can you start?”

  “Given the magnitude of the transformation, I shall dispatch my men to begin the demolition, this afternoon.” The designer wiped his brow. “Then we should commence the reconstruction, first thing in the morning, with your approval.”

  “Please, do so.” As she climbed the stairs, she gazed at her bare hand and frowned. Jason had yet to gift her a wedding ring, and she had not mustered the nerve to broach the topic, but that was before her husband’s departure, when he had jumped from a moving coach to console her. And though she would never admit it aloud, Alex coveted hope. “As for the nursery, I would like everything done in blue and yellow.”

  “Would you not prefer a more neutral palette, in the event you carry a girl?” Mr. Harper furrowed his brow. “We can always add gender-specific tones, at a later date.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Without doubt, I bear boys, as they are far too rambunctious.”

  “As you wish, your ladyship.” The decorator laughed. “I know better than to argue with a woman in your condition, as my wife accurately predicted the sex of our three children, so blue and yellow is our theme.”

  When they entered the nursery, Alex was surprised to discover Molly, standing before the window, drying her eyes. The nanny attempted to conceal her tremulous state behind a rigid smile that had not fooled Alex, for a second.

  “Molly, are you all right?” She surveyed the surroundings, as if expecting to find Mr. Penniman.

  “Yes, your ladyship.” Molly sniffed. “I fear I may be catching a cold, nothing more.”

  “Mr. Harper, this is Miss Duckett, my nursemaid.” Alex eased into the large, overstuffed chair in the back corner. “Shall we discuss the décor?”

  As the designer comprised another list of purchases, Alex studied her nanny, as she suspected Molly was not ill. After another hour-long consultation, during which she selected fabrics for draperies and bed linens, she bade farewell to Mr. Harper.r />
  “Alex, despite my promise, I am no longer certain I can remain at Stratfield Manor.” Molly averted her stare and shuffled her feet. “Since Tom arrived, I find it difficult to tolerate his presence.”

  “But I thought you had no interest in Mr. Penniman?” Alex rested her heels on the ottoman. “And we rarely see him, as he resides with the stable hands.”

  “And yet he tempts me,” Molly whispered. “Do you understand my distress?”

  “More than you know.” Alex could have written a book on temptation, as her captain had enticed her, beyond reason. “But I cannot lose you, so tell me what I can do to alleviate your discomfit, as I will not relinquish you without a fight.”

  “Tom is smart, my lady.” Molly vented a plaintive cry. “No matter what I try, he wiggles his way into my heart and renders me a pile of mush. You must help me resist him.”

  “Are you sure that is what you want?” Alex revisited the most cherished memory of Jason, running to console her. It was his noble action that had inspired a kernel of faith, which she hoarded as a priceless gem. “You were very fond of Mr. Penniman, when you lived in Plymouth. Are you positive you do not welcome his attention?”

  “Tom can go to the devil.” Molly gasped and covered her mouth. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

  “No worries, dear friend.” Once again, Alex and Jason’s relationship seemed inexplicably intertwined with that of the nanny and the stablemaster. “But I must caution you not to act in haste, as such decisions may not be so easily undone.”

  #

  Three weeks later, in the wee hours just before dawn, Jason stood watch on the quarterdeck of the Intrepid and peered a-stern through the spyglass. A French corvette manifested a shadow on the horizon, and Blake, Damian, and Dalton had broken the line and heeled hard a-starboard to pursue the enemy ship.

  “Shall we join the fun, Cap’n?” Mr. Edgerton, the first lieutenant, inquired. “Should we beat to quarters?”

  In that moment, Jason envisioned his wife, recalled her fears, remembered her tears, and he ached to hold her. “No, as a fourth share is hardly worth the effort. Maintain course and heading.”

  “Aye, sir.” The first lieutenant dipped his chin.

  In the distance, off the bow, the North Foreland posited a warm welcome to the Thames Estuary, which brought him closer to home and his Alex. And much like the Brethren husbands, Jason kept the canvas hardened in, to catch the wind.

  Almost five hours had passed, when the Intrepid sailed into the docks at Deptford, and he all but ran for his coach, sidestepping the heartfelt reunions that inspired nothing more than deep-seated desire for Alex. As he sank into the squabs, in preparation for the drive to London, Jason retrieved from his waistcoat pocket the wedding ring he had yet to give his bride.

  Fashioned of old gold, the jewelry boasted a large oval sapphire surrounded by diamonds, the latter he had added for his lady. The family heirloom had belonged to his mother, and he had planned to place it on Alex’s finger, but she had refused to join hands at their wedding ceremony. He had carried the bauble on him, ever since.

  When he arrived at his London residence, he unlocked the door and waited as the driver unloaded Jason’s trunks. Alone in his bachelor’s lair, he stood in the foyer, as a disconcerting shiver of unease traipsed his spine. Gazing into the drawing room, he discovered nothing amiss, yet a strange emptiness permeated his being, and he suffered Alex’s absence as a vicious blow.

  The palatial townhouse, bereft of fresh flowers, sumptuous rugs, comfortable pillows, and all manner of useless knickknacks, lacked the warmth of their country estate. It lacked Alex’s touch. In short, she had made their grand house a home. Had he no previous engagement, he would ride hell-bent for leather into her arms, but duty called. As customary, Admiral Douglas had summoned the Brethren to the usual meeting room at White’s to debrief the mission.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Collingwood.” Haynes, Jason’s factotum, strolled into the foyer. “I knew not when to expect you. Shall I unpack your trunks?”

  “No.” Jason rested hands on hips. “I shall return to the country, tomorrow. Prepare a bath, as I have an appointment, this evening.”

  “Yes, sir.” Haynes bowed.

  So Jason passed the next few hours savoring a fine cigar and soaking in the tub. At the agreed upon time, he skipped down the stairs, navigated the alleyway, entered the mews, saddled his horse, and made for the gentlemen’s club. To his surprise, the full compliment of the Brethren husbands had already gathered.

  “Jason, we saved you a seat.” The admiral smiled and signaled for a drink. “As your brother knights have made their report, I need only inquire whether or not you have anything of significance to add?”

  “No, sir.” Jason reclined and stretched his booted feet. “As per orders, I rendezvoused with the Surprise northwest of the Bay of Biscay and transferred communiqués, supplies, and reinforcements. Beyond that, the mission was unremarkable.”

  “Delighted to hear it.” Admiral Douglas lowered his chin and gazed at the floor. “How is Alex?”

  “Heavily pregnant, but doing well, when I left her at Stratfield.” He shifted his weight and tugged his cravat. “Admiral, I never had the chance to thank you for the assistance you provided my wife, during difficult circumstances.”

  “Son, I claim no special insight into the games people play, but yours was bad form—very bad form.” The admiral downed his brandy, stood, and straightened his coat. “But that is the last you will hear of it, from me. Felicitations, on your nuptials. I hope you find as much happiness in your marriage as mine has brought me. Knights, I bid you a pleasant evening.”

  Everett whistled in monotone and shattered the tense silence, once the admiral had exited the room. “Brother, I am glad you were at sea when all hell broke loose, as my wife and my father-in-law wanted to kill you.”

  “As did Caroline.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “And you are still persona non grata in our home, until Alex declares otherwise.”

  “And Rebecca wanted to string you up from the highest yardarm. I have not seen her that mad since—” Dirk drained the contents of his glass, swallowed hard, and grimaced. “Never have I seen her that mad.”

  “And what of Cara?” Jason glanced at Lance. “Does she wish to skewer me, too?”

  “No, brother.” Lance propped his elbow on an armrest. “Cara and I know there is more to the story, and we owe you a debt we can never repay. And I would not cast stones, given I took Cara before we spoke the vows.”

  “You are right.” Trevor frowned. “Who are we to judge, as I kidnapped and claimed Caroline, prior to a proper ceremony.”

  “My Becca seduced me, in advance of our wedding.” Dirk grinned. “She was quite intent on meeting her fate, so I have no complaints.”

  “Well I like that.” Everett clucked his tongue. “Am I the only one who did the honorable by my bride?”

  “So it appears.” Trevor snickered. “And then she jumped from a moving coach to escape the deflowering.”

  In concert, save Jason, the Brethren husbands burst into laughter.

  “Very funny.” Everett flagged a waiter for another round of drinks. “Brothers, I wish, very much, that one of our bachelor knights might learn from our mistakes, as it has become quite painful to watch another man run aground, especially when he does so in such spectacular fashion.”

  “I am so glad to provide sport for your amusement.” Jason slumped forward. “My friends, I have beached my campaign and am in dire need of your expertise in marital affairs.”

  “That is the understatement of the year.” Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “What were you thinking could happen, when you took her?”

  “Was that chief among your concerns when you first bedded Caroline?” Jason inquired, with disgust.

  “Point taken.” Trevor frowned. “Pray, continue.”

  “Put yourself in my boots.” Jason recalled the days in Plymouth. “What would you have done, had the woman of your dre
ams showed up on your doorstep, sans chaperone, and offered herself on the proverbial silver platter?”

  “I get your meaning.” Everett compressed his lips. “Then why did you refuse to marry her, given you had claimed her bride’s prize?”

  Jason arched a brow.

  “Alex told Sabrina the whole of it,” Everett explained. “And my Brie keeps no secrets from me.”

  “Because I am an ignorant arse.” Jason slapped his thigh.

  “In that I will not argue, and you are lucky to be alive, Jolly Roger intact, as I spoke with Damian prior to our departure.” Dirk huffed a breath. “So answer the question.”

  “We are at war, and there are no guaranteed tomorrows.” In a painful flashback, Jason relived the heated contretemps with Alex. “And you know how society treats young widows. I do not want that for her, should I meet my demise in battle.”

  “Yet you made her your whore.” Dirk pinned Jason with a lethal stare. “Was that somehow better than widowhood?”

  “Watch it, brother.” Jason bared his teeth. “I made her my wife, as I had always planned, and no one knows more than I that I erred.”

  “Except, perhaps, Alex. And therein lies the crux of your dilemma.” Lance checked his timepiece and stood. “I beg your pardon. While I loathe interrupting our festivities, Dr. Handley is to examine Cara, and I should be there when he arrives.”

  “Commiserations.” Jason came alert. “Is she ill?”

  “Aye.” Lance appeared concerned, as he shuffled his feet. “She is exhausted, and her belly has been downright fragile, for the past few weeks, at sea. Must confess I am worried.”

  “I do not think she is ill, Lance.” Trevor chuckled and peered at Everett, who snorted.

  “Sounds as if she is pregnant,” Jason blurted.

  “You know, you are smarter than you look.” Everett folded his arms and glowered.

  “Bloody hell, Collingwood.” Dirk smacked Jason on the shoulder. “Did you think it necessary to ruin the surprise? Cara may now want your head.”