Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast)

by Devlin, Barbara

  After fencing for an hour, he admitted he had seen Trevor at his boxing gym and ascertained that no such visit was forthcoming. It seemed Lord Lockwood was unsure of his welcome and thought better of making an appearance. Blake had suggested she give Trevor a break and display ample gratitude for any apology he might make. He also implied that Trevor was every bit as frightened by the prospect of their impending marriage as was she. Strange, she could not recall ever discussing her fears with her elder sibling. Brothers could be so bothersome and, sometimes, annoyingly intuitive.

  Dressed in a gold embroidered gown of burgundy tulle, Caroline stood with her mother as they were announced. With head held high, she scanned the ballroom in hopes of catching a glimpse of her brother or Trevor. As if from nowhere, Blake appeared and extended his arm to their mother. She waited for him to turn and offer his escort. Instead, Blake walked away.

  And then she saw Trevor.

  Bedecked in black formalwear and a boyish grin, he was devastatingly handsome. Her heart skipped a beat, and a fluttery sensation tickled her belly. In an instant, the transgressions of the past were forgotten. Why could she not stay angry with the infernal man? Casting a sidelong glance at her brother, she caught his wink. There were times when Caroline could just kiss Blake.

  “My lady, may I say you look quite lovely this evening.”

  Oh, dear. Were they going down that road again? “You may, my lord. And I daresay you are rather dashing yourself.”

  Raising her gloved hand to his lips, Trevor flipped her wrist and placed a kiss on her bare flesh, then settled her palm in the crook of his arm. “Allow me the honor of escorting you this night.”

  As the strings of the orchestra sounded the first waltz of the evening, Caroline whirled dramatically around the dance floor in Trevor’s vise-like embrace. He held her close, too close, and something else whirled inside her.

  When supper was announced, he led her into the dining hall and to a small table for two, which allowed them a bit of privacy. Later, her attentive captain excused himself, only to return with a strawberry tart.

  Her shameless fiancé leaned near and whispered in her ear. “I would give my ship to have you naked in my bed as I fed you strawberries, sweet.”

  Good heavens, her green-eyed dragon was as dangerous as ever. “Would you indeed?”

  Smiling seductively, he reached for her hand, slipped his thumb inside her glove, and caressed the center of her palm in maddening circles. “I must confess, as of this moment, it is my fondest wish.”

  “My lord, were it in my power to grant such a request, rest assured I would do so without delay.” Oh how nice it was to see him blush for a change.

  For the first time since their courtship commenced, Caroline was truly enjoying herself. She almost forgot the circumstances necessitating their engagement. As Trevor broke small bites of the tart and fed them into her mouth, checking to make sure there were none the wiser, he serenaded her with ribald suggestions involving her body and his tongue. His demeanor was reminiscent of fonder days aboard the Hera, and she decided she enjoyed being verbally ravished.

  It seemed too soon when the pleasant meal ended, and she was reluctant to rejoin the revelers inching toward the ballroom. Trevor and Caroline, with Brie and Everett in tow, were caught in a crush of bodies. In the crowd ahead, a familiar voice rose above the chatter.

  “Oh, no, my dears. I assure you he could not be serious about her. Lord Lockwood told me he was not interested in any of our young debutantes,” crowed Lady Darwith, Caroline’s archenemy. “A man like that needs a real woman to satisfy him.”

  Several giggles rent the air.

  The earth seemed to tremble beneath her feet, and Caroline swayed.

  “Are you all right?” Trevor asked.

  “Does she speak the truth?” Humiliation gripped her throat, and unshed tears stung her eyes.

  He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Lady Darwith.” She swallowed hard. “Did you tell her you were not interested in a debutante?”

  #

  Hell and be damned, there was no way out.

  Trevor needed no explanation to discern the motives behind Caroline’s query. He knew the history and the devastation caused by one barracuda known as Lady Darwith. “Aye, I said it. But--”

  In a split second, his fiancée tore from his side and plunged into the sea of partygoers.

  “--You are not like any debutante I have ever known.” Stunned, Trevor glanced at Everett and Sabrina, who eyed him with unveiled sympathy.

  “No offense, old chap, but your wooing is becoming too painful to watch.” Everett arched a brow. “Too bad I am not in need of a wife, else I would be happy to show you how it is done.”

  “Take my advice, do not try it. Courtship is a race you cannot win.” Trevor scratched his temple. “Well then, would someone like to tell me whether or not I should go after her?”

  “Pray, a moment.” Elbowing Sabrina, Everett said, “Perhaps all our lovebirds need is a little friendly interference from a master and his protégé. What say you, my dear Miss Douglas?”

  Sabrina favored him with a conspiratorial grin that gave Trevor gooseflesh from head to foot. “My lord, I do love a good intrigue.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Miss Douglas, I do not presume to understand whatever nonsense you and Everett are about. Really, I must find Caroline.” Trevor dug his heels into the graveled path in the rose garden. “I insist you tell me where we are going.”

  Sabrina peered over her shoulder and pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, damn fool man, do you want to announce to the whole world we are here?” She faced forward and tugged hard on his wrist. “If you wish to see Caroline, then come with me. And, blast it all, keep your voice down.”

  Despite inclinations to the contrary, he followed his less-than-graceful guide around a tall hedge. In the clearing, secluded and well hidden from the main house, sat a petite orangery. As they neared the door, Trevor heard voices inside and paused.

  With a haughty air of determination, Sabrina let go his arm, marched to the entrance, and turned the knob. On a backward glance, she inclined her head. “Well, are you coming?”

  “I suppose I have nothing to lose.” Trevor uttered a prayer in silence and stepped inside.

  Pale blue light from the moon streamed through the glass panels overhead, illuminating the diminutive hothouse. Tucked among the plants of various tropical varieties were a chaise and a tapestry frame. And making a thorough examination of an exotic orchid, while engaging in polite conversation with Everett, was Caroline.

  When Everett spied him, he stood upright. “Right. Well, I believe my work here is finished.” He strolled toward the entrance and offered Sabrina his escort. “Come along, Miss Douglas.”

  To wit the younger Douglas blinked. “I beg your pardon? Where do you think we are going?”

  “Allay your fears, my dear.” His friend chuckled. “My thoughts were of a decidedly noble endeavor.”

  “Indeed?” Sabrina appeared skeptical.

  “Indubitably.” Everett grinned. “Do you dance, Miss Douglas?”

  Her eyes flared. “Of course I do, you ass.”

  Markham pressed her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Tell me, my dear Miss Douglas, has anyone ever mistaken you for a lady?”

  She humphed. “I am sure no more than have mistaken you for a gentleman.”

  As the two continued their playful banter, Trevor stared surreptitiously at Caroline. She seemed determined to focus on anything but him, and he did not know what to make of her indifference. A palm settled on the small of his back.

  “Get in there, old boy.” Everett gave him a gentle nudge.

  With a tentative step forward, he slipped a finger in his coat pocket and toyed with the bauble he intended to give his fiancée. Once the voices of his bickering accomplices faded, he made his move.

  “That is a lovely bloom you have there.” God help him, he was discussing flowers. Could anyt
hing be more humiliating for a man of the sea? “Is it your favorite variety?”

  “No.” She did not face him. “I prefer roses.”

  “Well, roses are nice, I suppose.” Trevor shuffled his feet and inched closer. How he wished she would turn around. “I shall have to remember that and gift you a bouquet on special occasions.”

  “Please, do not trouble yourself.”

  Her response was puzzling. Did not all wives expect copious amounts of gifts, especially roses? “I assure you, my dear, it will be no trouble to shower you with trinkets and the like.” Trevor forced a chuckle. “Else I may not survive our courtship.”

  “My lord, you have just touched on the topic uppermost in my mind.” Caroline rotated a half-turn, providing him a glimpse of her profile. “I believe it is time for us to end our charade.”

  Somewhere, fate must be smiling. Trevor rolled his shoulders and sighed his relief. He did not want to delay their nuptials any longer than necessary. “My dear, I could not agree more.”

  “I hereby release you from any and all obligation with respect to our betrothal. You are free to pursue other viable candidates for a wife.”

  It was as though the world beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole. The warm and inviting walls of the orangery gave way to a bottomless chasm, dark and dreary. His ears rang, his gut clenched. Held in suspense somewhere between heaven and hell, an echo from the past played a mocking tune, haunting and taunting. A memory that still cut sharp as a razor sliced through him.

  In a flash, he was standing in a luxuriously appointed drawing room. The site was his ancestral pile, a place he had not visited in years but had not forgotten. A little boy stood before his father, begging to be allowed to remain at home, rather than be sent to school. He had sought acceptance. Validation. His pleas were ignored, and he was rejected.

  As he teetered, Trevor realized he had forgotten to breathe. The shock of her declaration shivered over his flesh, and he revisited her words in his head.

  “Pray forgive me, but did I hear correctly?” Despite his efforts, his voice held a wealth of surprise. “You no longer wish to wed me?”

  “My lord, I believe if our courtship has accomplished anything, it has shown us we do not suit.” She shrugged, as though she were dismissing a lowly servant. “And you have my solemn vow that what occurred aboard the Hera will never pass my lips.”

  He should have been pleased, should have been grateful that Caroline had thrown him a lifeline. While only the worst cad would have refused to restore her honor after claiming her maidenhead, she was well within her rights to spurn his offer. But in that moment, Trevor was deluged by emotions quite the contrary. Anger and resentment gnawed at his senses.

  In desperation, he grasped for the best rebuttal to her rebuff. “But...I compromised you.”

  “I am as much to blame for that situation.” Calm and composed, she clasped her hands in front of her. “It is unfair of me to exact so high a price.”

  “Caroline, stop.” Unable to remain still, he paced. “If this is about Lady Darwith--”

  “Lady Darwith spoke the truth, do you deny it?”

  The question fell as a very real barrier between them.

  He stopped in his tracks. “She did speak the truth, but--”

  “Well then, we are in agreement. Our betrothal is broken, and I suspect you will be departing London soon. I wish you safe journey.”

  That was it?

  He was to be tossed aside?

  Thrown over?

  Without so much as a by your leave, he was dismissed?

  Like bloody hell.

  “So you wish to be rid of me? You think me beneath your standards? Am I not polished enough to satisfy the daughter of a duke?” Ire poured forth as a vicious riptide. Trevor was in his element now, and he wielded his tongue, as would a master swordsman toying with his opponent. He used his knowledge of her faltering confidence to his advantage. Heaping insult after insult on her head, he delighted in each successive slump of her shoulders, until her chin rested on her chest. Yet she took his abuse with an annoyingly polite demeanor and garnered newfound respect. “If memory serves, I was man enough aboard the Hera.”

  “Lord Lockwood.” Her hands flew to her mouth, and Caroline gasped. “Please, do not be vulgar.”

  So the society maiden was offended?

  Good.

  He wanted her to ache as he ached.

  To suffer as he suffered.

  “I recall a night when you did not find me vulgar. In fact, you shouted my name, again and again, in the throes of passion. Tell me you do not desire me, Caroline. Look in my eyes, and tell me you do not dream of me, late at night, in your bed.” At the end of his tirade, Trevor sighed heavily. Purged of his fury, he speared his fingers through his hair and pinned her with his gaze, but his efforts were wasted. She remained silent and aloof, as she had since he entered the orangery.

  “Fine. This is how you wish to end our agreement? Don’t fret, love.” He stomped toward the exit. “I am going. You have my word that you shall never have to suffer my presence again.”

  His former fiancée appeared rooted to the floor. How dare she ignore him.

  He spun on his heel and took two steps in her direction. “I intend to set sail on the morning tide.”

  Caroline did a rousing impersonation of a statue.

  “I mean what I say.”

  He thought she might have blinked.

  When it became clear that his ex-bride-to-be would not relent, Trevor studied the betrothal ring in his hand. A combination of two separate pieces, it had taken him the better part of three hours to make the final selection. In the end, much to the consternation of the jeweler, he had chosen to fit the band of one ring to the setting of another, because he wanted something as unique as the woman who would be his future wife.

  Since he doubted their paths would cross again, Trevor took one last glance at Caroline.

  And then it happened.

  A traitorous tear slid slowly down her cheek.

  How strange was it that a single drop could wash away his hurt? But her true state was betrayed. Despite attempts to convince him otherwise, she was not indifferent to him.

  For good or ill, he walked straight to his difficult bride-to-be and knelt at her feet. And when she finally met his stare, his uncertainty was mirrored in her turbulent, watery gaze.

  “My dear, I know I am not the best match you could have made--”

  Caroline flinched. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  “That is absurd.” Incredulity permeated her lovely features. “For I feel the same can be said for me in regard to you.”

  “Darling, you are too kind.” He tugged at the glove on her left hand. “I am only an earl and not a very successful one. It is common knowledge among my peers that your connections far surpass mine. Your dowry, while not so great as to encompass my fortune, is a sizeable sum many a rake would kill to possess.”

  “I do not believe what I am hearing.” She cast him a half-smile. “You think yourself inadequate?”

  “Not inadequate, but definitely no prize.” With great care, Trevor slipped the glittering jewel to her fourth finger, then bent his head and brushed his lips across her bare knuckles.

  “What is that?”

  “Your betrothal ring.” He could not help but chuckle. “What say you, my dear? Will you marry me?”

  Caroline seemed spellbound by the gem. “Where did you get this?” Her voice was shaky as she studied the large marquise cut diamond.

  “Well, I did not steal it, if that is what you’re implying.”

  “I infer no such thing.” Tears continued to stream her face. “But...it is beautiful.”

  “I had it fashioned just for you.” He inclined his head and ignored his aching knees. “I have been carrying the bauble in my waistcoat pocket for days, while trying to find an opportune moment to present it to you. I can’t conceive of a more auspicious occasion
to gift you your ring than now, when you are trying to give me the heave-ho.”

  Caroline smiled from ear to ear. Waving her hand in the moonlight, she appeared thrilled with the significance of the sparkling jewel. “But you could marry anyone.”

  “Perhaps.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “Yet I am on my knees before you.”

  “Did you tell Lady Darwith you were not interested in a debutante?”

  “I did.” He winked. “But you are unlike any debutante I have ever met.”

  “True.” She giggled. “And you are unlike any earl I have ever met. Are we not a fine pair?”

  “Indeed, I think so. And as I recall, you said something similar aboard the Hera.” The pain in his legs heightened his urgency. “Caroline, I will have your answer.”

  Inclining her head, she struck a coy pose. “You know, I rather fancy you on your knees.”

  “Don’t get used to it, love.” Stiff muscles aside, he was on his feet in seconds. “Though I rather fancy having you on yours.”

  “Scandalous, my lord.” When she made to turn away, he caught her around the waist and hauled her into his arms. “Trevor, we must be careful. Think of the shame were we to be caught dallying.”

  “Rot the lot of them.” He nudged her with his hips and knew the moment she noted his raging erection, as he was rewarded with a soft gasp and a look of wonder. “Your answer, now.”

  “Yes.” Framing his face with her hands, their noses less than an inch apart, she whispered, “Now and forever, yes.”

  Had she hesitated in responding, he feared he might swoon. Lady luck had to be smiling benevolently upon him now.

  Just how they got to the chaise, Trevor did not know or care. For a man, being ravished by an uncharacteristically aggressive young woman, and his fiancée at that, was a treat not to be missed. Though her caresses were wild and still untutored, Caroline more than compensated with a tidal wave of enthusiasm. But before his charming intended got carried away--and carried him with her--he decided it was time for the master to take the reins of passion.