Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast)

by Devlin, Barbara

  Come back to me.

  Trevor closed his eyes and envisioned his bride. An image of her smiling face formed in his mind, and his memory supplied the rest of her curvaceous figure. Unfailing honesty and unshakeable support shimmered in her gaze. Caroline lifted her arms and reached for him.

  I love you.

  The strength of a hundred men invested his fatigued frame, and Trevor opened his eyes and crawled to the platform. The Hera sailed into the wind and sliced through the waves. As the bow crested, he wedged a foot in the topmast shrouds and arced with the movement of the ship. Grasping a fistful of the sailor’s coat, he jerked the sea dog upright as the stern lifted. When the bow again crested, he released his charge, and the mariner dropped safely to the platform.

  While the trip up the mast had seemed endless, the descent took only a few minutes. After dispatching the injured tar, he plotted a course for the quarterdeck and relieved Dirk from the helm.

  “That was some rescue,” said the viscount, clutching the rail. “Had I not witnessed it for myself, I would not have believed your report.”

  “I do not follow.” Trevor made a futile attempt to dry his face.

  “I am referring to your mission summary.” A wave crashed over the larboard side, Dirk grabbed the wheel and helped maintain their heading. “Admiral Douglas will be quite impressed with your performance.”

  “I do not intend to mention it.” Trevor groaned as the tempest delivered another saltwater bath. “I was doing my duty.”

  “Lockwood, you are a better man than you let on.”

  “Can you steer with your mouth closed?”

  The annoying nobleman laughed and said nothing more.

  In the wee hours of the morning, the storm abated, and they anchored twenty miles off the coast of Lisbon to await further orders. Trevor sent Dirk below decks but refused to be relieved by the first watch. Although he was dead tired, he knew sleep would not come easy, if it came at all.

  When a sliver of gold divided sea from sky, he relinquished the helm to the first mate and took a post at the stern rail. Smooth as satin was the calm ocean, but inside him an emotional torrent raged. His mind raced with denials, but the battle was lost. Fear settled as a lead ball in his belly. While he might lie to himself, no longer would his heart be ignored.

  Trevor was in love with his wife.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Countess, I am honored by your presence at my little gathering.” Lady Darrow smiled and ushered Caroline into the well-appointed townhouse.

  “And I am equally honored by your gracious invitation.” A butler accepted her wrap, and Caroline strolled through a double-door entrance that opened into the drawing room.

  After enduring over a fortnight of curious outings with her brother and Damian, and their rakish shenanigans, she had sent a note informing Blake that she could not attend the Hogart’s musicale. Pleading a severe case of megrims, Caroline had sought to stretch her independent wings and partake of an evening at the theatre on her own.

  A chorus of whispers greeted her arrival at the stately residence, which seemed odd in light of the innocuous affair. Did no one think her capable of contributing an educated opinion to the cultural review group? Of course, the fact that she could claim only the slightest acquaintance with those present might have had something to do with the chilly reception.

  “Lady Lockwood, Lord Sheldon has expressed an interest in your company,” the hostess said with a peculiar gleam in her eye. “If you will allow me to make the introductions.”

  A sinfully beautiful man sketched a dramatic bow and cast her a brazen glance as though he knew how she looked in her chemise. “Countess, this is pleasure.”

  “You are most kind, Lord Sheldon.” She extended her hand and shivered with unease when his lips lingered scandalously at her wrist. “S-so, you are a fan of the theatre, my lord?”

  “Good God, no.” Lord Sheldon escorted her to a green damask covered sofa. “Must confess I cannot stomach such drivel.”

  “Oh?” Gooseflesh encompassed her from top to toe, though she could not comprehend the cause of her distress. “Then why are you here?”

  “The same reason as everyone else, for a bit of companionship to pass the time.” The audacious lord hovered inappropriately near. “May I call you Caroline?”

  “You are too bold, sir.” Panic traipsed her spine, and she inched to one end of the sofa.

  “And you are a delight, my dear.” In less than a second, he closed the distance.

  “When will we get started?” she asked in a high-pitched voice, hoping to find refuge from the unwanted advances in intelligent discourse.

  “Sweet lady, we can begin right now.” The nobleman chuckled and stood. “Come, I believe Lady Darrow has prepared my usual accommodations.”

  “I do not follow.” Caroline swallowed hard as he brought her to her feet. “Why can we not do it here?”

  “A woman after my own heart.” Lord Sheldon tapped a finger to her nose. “You are a naughty girl.”

  “There must be...I am not sure...I don’t understand.” Something in his expression drew her up short, and she dug her heels into the rich carpet. But the insufferable man would brook no refusal. With an arm at her waist, he led her into the foyer.

  And a familiar face embodied the escape for which she had prayed.

  “Lord Markham, what a wonderful surprise.”

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Everett blinked, as would an owl.

  “Are you a member of Lady Darrow’s theatre group, too?” Lord Sheldon’s grip on her elbow tightened, and Caroline inclined her head. “Pray a moment, sir. His lordship and I are old friends.”

  “Theatre group?” Everett’s brows almost reached his hairline. He opened, and then closed his mouth. “You can’t be serious. Did the blackguard lure you here under false pretenses? In the name of Lord Lockwood, I demand satisfaction.”

  As it appeared the two men were planning to duel in the foyer, Caroline intervened.

  “My lord, I came here of my own volition.” She readily accepted Everett’s proffered escort. “But I am confused. What usually occurs at these cultural reviews?”

  “Cultural reviews--” Lord Markham choked. “Is that what you thought?”

  “Of course.” She shrugged. “Why else would I be here?”

  “Walk with me.” Everett steered her along the sidewall. “You should not have ventured into this lair of wolves. If Trevor finds out he will hang us both from the nearest yardarm.”

  “Lord Markham, you are talking in riddles.”

  “Look around,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you not see the men and ladies pairing off?”

  “But, they are wives of--”

  “Marital vows matter not when one seeks divertissements of a carnal nature.”

  The intimation of his words, the crude education, opened her eyes. Only then did she recognize the loaded stares and illicit caresses of the mating dance.

  “Oh, dear.” Caroline stopped dead in her tracks. “I have made a dreadful mistake.”

  “Shall I retrieve your belongings?”

  “Please, do so.”

  The urge to run, to depart Lady Darrow’s and never return charged every nerve and consumed every muscle. But Lord Sheldon loomed in the foyer, a barrier to her flight.

  “Going somewhere?”

  To avoid a scene, Caroline stayed Everett with a squeeze of his fingers. “Lord Markham, would you be so kind as to send for my carriage?”

  Everett peered at her, then glanced at Lord Sheldon. “As you wish.”

  Clasping her hands, she lifted her chin and looked the intrusive lord straight in the eye. “My presence here is the result of a gross error for which I am entirely to blame. Had the true purpose of this gathering been known to me prior to my arrival, I would never have come.”

  “A faithful wife? How exceedingly cruel of you, Countess.” Lord Sheldon bent his head and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I bid you a restf
ul night.”

  “And the same to you, my lord.” The heat of his stare weighed heavy on her shoulders, and she marched down the hall, claimed her wrap from the butler, and crossed the threshold.

  Everett stood like a sentry at the carriage door. When she sank, safe and snug, in the squabs, he fastened the latch and shouted, “Make haste!”

  Though the streets of London were quiet, her insides were anything but, and Caroline did not breathe a sigh of relief until she entered Mayfair proper. The rig turned onto Park Lane, and her home came into view. The carriage halted, and the footman handed her to the sidewalk. Roberts flung open the door, but a strange noise caught her ear.

  “Hello?” She peered beyond the wrought iron rail at the area stairs below. The servant’s passage was shrouded in darkness, and she could see nothing. “Is someone there?”

  “May I be of assistance, your ladyship?” asked the butler.

  “No.” She narrowed her stare and rubbed the back of her neck. “I am sure it is nothing.”

  Hiking her skirts, she skipped across the marbled foyer, up to the second floor, and down the hall to her apartments. Ensconced in her bedchamber, she folded her arms in an attempt to cease her trembling.

  “What is the matter with me?” With a hard yank on the bellpull, Caroline summoned her lady’s maid. “Mine was a harmless error. And I was only at Lady Darrow’s for a few minutes.”

  Despite concern for her reputation, her real conundrum centered on honesty and whether or not she should apprise Trevor of her ill-fated outing. His mother’s infidelity had burned scars on his heart and mind, and a confession, even one based on good intentions, might serve to cause him undeserved torment.

  But should she lie to Trevor and thus compound her blunder?

  “I cannot do it, the issue does not signify.” She sat at her vanity and buried her face in her hands. Other than Everett, there was no one to which she could turn for advice. “Can no one help me?”

  Fingers speared through her hair, and pins scattered about her lap.

  “Perhaps I may be of service?”

  Caroline blinked into the mirror and gasped in shock. “You’re home!”

  The chair toppled onto its side when she stood and flew into Trevor’s arms.

  “When did you drop anchor?” She nipped his chin. “And why did you not send word?”

  “I beg your pardon, my lady wife.” He grazed her nose with his teeth and hugged her impossibly tight. “I dispatched a messenger upon my arrival at Deptford but was disappointed to receive a reply from Roberts informing me that you were unavailable. Where--”

  “Oh, how I missed you,” Caroline said as she scored her nails on the back of his neck.

  “And I you,” he declared with a grin, and then nuzzled her temple.

  Amid her flirty giggles and his hearty chuckles, she showered Trevor’s cheeks with kisses. But as their lips met, the laughter ceased. Fiery passion spun a delicate web, encircling them in a cocoon of desire.

  “Shall we adjourn to my chamber?” he inquired, shuffling her in his embrace.

  “To your bed,” Caroline stated with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Hurry.”

  “Darling, I like the way you think.” Trevor sidled into the little corridor joining their rooms. “By the by, I dismissed your lady’s maid for the night.”

  “Scoundrel.” In less than a minute, she untied his cravat and discarded it on the floor.

  “Indeed, I consider the opportunity to undress you a pleasure not to be overlooked.” He bent his head and licked her throat. “But, at this moment, I am not certain I can withstand the torture.”

  “Then why wait?” Caroline kicked off her slippers as they entered his suite. “I want you so much it hurts.”

  Trevor stopped right there and kissed her.

  And kept kissing her.

  She was not sure how they got to his four-poster, but in the blink of an eye, she was deposited at the center of the mattress. With a flick of his wrist, he lifted her skirts. Boots and all, he climbed onto the bed, and she parted her thighs in implicit surrender. Fumbling with the fastening of his breeches, he finally managed to free the proof of his arousal. On a groan, he came into her hard and fast.

  The welcome weight of his body, the erotic dance of his hips, and the intimate thrust of his flesh deep inside hers combined in exquisite invasion. Again and again, he assaulted her senses, claimed her corporeal self in the most elemental infiltration known to man. Delicious fire simmered beneath her skin, and a decadent tension marked the entrance to her personal pleasure dome. The gates of heaven on earth neared, Caroline reached for the sumptuous pinnacle to their union and--

  Trevor opened his mouth in a silent scream and froze.

  Afterwards, he collapsed atop her.

  Puzzled, aching from an as yet unfulfilled hunger, she tapped his shoulder. “My lord?”

  “Mmm hmm?” was his muffled response.

  “Are you finished?”

  “For now.” With a chuckle, Trevor raised his head and stared at her. His smug expression and self-satisfied smile faltered. “Did you--”

  “No.”

  “Bloody hell.” He collapsed once more. “Sorry, love. I promise to do better if you will give me a few minutes to recover.”

  “Well, if a few minutes is all you require, I suppose I can be patient.” Playfully, she slapped his bare bottom and wiggled her hips. “But whatever am I to do in the meantime?”

  “You could tell me what you were about at so late an hour.” Trevor propped himself on his elbows and frowned. “Imagine my disappointment when I entered the foyer and discovered the one face I most wanted to see not present.”

  Caroline almost swallowed her tongue.

  “My lord, I attended a play.” Searching for a convenient explanation, she stumbled upon a haphazard excuse for her absence. “There was a delay involving the actors, and you know how terrible traffic in the lanes can be after a performance has ended.”

  “Ah.” He nodded once. “So, what did you see?”

  “It was an independent production.” At least in that she did not have to lie. “A comedy called Daisy Pulls It Off.”

  “And with whom did you share the entertainment?”

  Would his questions never cease?

  But how could she avoid his interrogation without arousing suspicion?

  “Blake.” And then a flash of brilliance sparked in her brain, and Caroline knew just what she had to do. “But surely we have other more pressing business to complete, which takes precedence over theatre fare?”

  “Darling, I am not yet--”

  She drew him near and whispered against his lips, “Perhaps this will inspire you.”

  #

  In a private room at White’s, the Brethren of the Coast gathered to celebrate Trevor’s maiden mission as a Nautionnier Knight. While the men traded the latest bawdy jokes circulating the more fashionable London clubs, he replayed the pleasant night spent in the arms--and between the thighs--of his wife. Over and over, he revisited certain sweet moments, mentally savoring the succulent fruits of their fiery couplings. But what captured his thoughts was what he had not achieved.

  Namely, Trevor had failed to profess his love.

  “I read your report, and it was quite thorough.” Admiral Douglas sipped his brandy and arched a brow. “However, Dirk’s summary included the harrowing tale of a heroic rescue, involving a member of your crew tangled in the rigging, high atop the mainmast, during a raging tempest. Yet, curiously enough, your account neglected to mention said rescue.”

  Bloody hell.

  In the process of downing the contents of his glass, Blake spewed the amber intoxicant across the table. “You climbed into the rigging during a storm? Are you insane?”

  “Watch it, brother.” Damian produced a handkerchief, wiped off his face, and then dabbed his lapels. “This is a new coat.”

  Trevor could have killed his shipmate. He pinned Dirk with his stare and said, “I thought we were no
t going to mention that particular incident.”

  “I never promised not to.” Dirk shrugged. “But I do recall warning you that reports must divulge all that occurs during missions for the Crown.”

  “Excuse me.” Frustration evident in his expression, Lance pounded a fist on the table. “Would one of you care to enlighten the rest of us?”

  “I have no wish to relive an event I would describe as unremarkable.” Standing, Trevor emptied his glass in one healthy gulp. “I shall leave the telling to Dirk while I seek out my bride.”

  “Making up for lost time?” inquired Dalton with a toss of a coin and a shameless grin.

  “You know it.” Trevor glanced at the admiral. “If I may, sir?”

  To wit the venerable naval legend replied, “Carry on.”

  As he strolled through the reading room, Trevor wondered if he could muster the courage to declare himself in the light of day.

  “Ho there, Lord Lockwood. I did not know you had returned to London.”

  The voice was familiar and, unfortunately, so was the face. Trevor accepted the outstretched hand with suspicion. “Lord Sheldon. Have you some interest in my affairs of which I am unaware?”

  “None, other than to express my sincerest congratulations on your recent nuptials.” Lord Sheldon inclined his head and smiled the sort of smile that left Trevor feeling in dire need of a bath. “I met your lovely wife. She is a charming creature.”

  The hair rose on the back of his neck.

  “Indeed, I agree with your assessment.” Against his better judgment, Trevor asked, “Where did you happen upon my countess?”

  Seconds ticked past.

  Was it his imagination or was the insufferable ass pausing for effect?

  “Last night, at Lady Darrow’s.”

  “Nonsense, you are mistaken.” No rake worth his salt had not indulged in the infamous, so-called cultural reviews. Trevor wanted to hit the arrogant aristocrat for besmirching Caroline’s reputation. “My wife took in a play.”

  “Of course, your countess did.” Sheldon had the audacity to smirk. “How fetching she looked in her blue gown and an alluring blush when she joined our group. And if memory serves, it was rather late when Lady Lockwood departed.”