A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

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A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology Page 10

by Barbara Devlin


  “Well, I believe by the end of the night, you shall sing another tune.” Her mother smiled, and Amanda swallowed hard. “Because cousin Helen here.”

  “Oh.” Amanda sighed in relief. At last she gained a coconspirator who understood the situation. “It seems ages since we last met.”

  “My big toe, how it ails me, what with all the blasted rain.” Helen elbowed Amanda from behind. “And what manner of mischief has kept you from my doorstep, little one?”

  “Most favorite cousin.” In dire need of reinforcement, Amanda hugged her brash relation. “How I have missed you.”

  “Stuff and nonsense, as you should have visited me.” Helen snorted and grasped Amanda’s chin. “And what have you done to yourself?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Amanda curled her toes in her slippers, as her cousin narrowed her stare. “I have done nothing. In fact, most of my time is spent in my chambers.”

  “Are you trying to knit enough scarves for the entire military population? I suppose that explains why you are pale as a ghost.” Arm in arm, Helen positioned herself in the receiving line to Amanda’s left. “And what will your young man say when he sees you?”

  “Given I have not enjoyed his company since December, and I have no idea when Mark will return to our shores, much to my dismay, what have I to worry?” That she might waste away? That he might not recognize what remained of her if he ever made it home? That she might die of heartbreak before she reached her nineteenth year? “But I am sorry I have neglected you, as that was never my intent.”

  “I understand that, but you cannot fool me, cousin, as I was not born yesterday.” Helen chuckled. “You seek to punish your father, yet you only injure yourself and your sailor, as Douglas will not approve your methods, especially when he notes those black circles beneath your eyes.”

  “But it is not my fault.” As the first guests had arrived, Amanda whispered, “I cannot eat or sleep, as fear of the unknown holds me prisoner to the most horrible thoughts.”

  “Good evening, Lady Amanda.” Captain Brent Randolph, along with his wife, Lady Elizabeth, smiled. “It is fortunate you regained sufficient health to attend tonight’s festivities, as the ton’s ballrooms have suffered your absence, my dear.”

  “And what a unique gown.” Lady Beth admired the gold braiding on the cuffs. “Why it is the captain’s insignia, and how appropriate--”

  “Uh--darling, let us not monopolize Lady Amanda, as she has been unwell.” Captain Randolph ushered his wife down the line.

  Nagging suspicion settled as the weight of the world on Amanda’s shoulders, as she digested Lady Beth’s comment and her husband’s reaction. Had Papa arranged a marriage, the news of which he had shared with his closest friends and planned to announce at his birthday celebration? If so, then he sported for disappointment, because that was one gift she would not grant him.

  The grand ballroom at her family’s London residence boasted floor to ceiling oak panels in the Boiserie style, by François-Joseph Bélanger, and Austrian crystal chandeliers. As the cavernous structure filled with one hundred of her father’s closest connections, both friends and family, Amanda galvanized her commitment to Mark, and she would not waver. When the orchestra struck the initial notes of a waltz, Papa sought her partnership for the first dance, and she knew, without doubt, there were games afoot.

  “Shall we, my child?” His cherubic countenance left her reeling, and she teetered and stumbled. “Hold hard, Amanda. Are you infirm?”

  “No, Papa.” They assumed their respective positions, and she averted her gaze, until he twisted the gold band on her finger, and she gulped.

  “What an interesting ring, and you opt for an intriguing placement.” Papa arched a brow and frowned. “Where did you get it, or need I inquire?”

  “If you must know, Mark gave it to me--before you sent him away.” She humphed. “And I shall be buried with it, as never will it leave my person.”

  “Is that the way the wind blows?” Papa whirled her with an uncharacteristic flourish. “Are you of a single-mind?”

  “Indeed, I am so fixed.” How sad it was that the one man she had always counted an ally now stood as her greatest foe and impediment to her dreams. “And I will not relent, regardless of arguments to the contrary.”

  “And what of me?” He reversed course without missing a step. “Do my wishes mean nothing?”

  “I would ask the same of you, sir,” quick as a wink she replied. “What of my wishes, or do they not signify because they conflict with yours?”

  “You are your mother’s daughter. Obstinate, inflexible girl.” And then he shocked her with a full belly laugh. “But I am not surprised. So, tell me, does the strapping Douglas mean that much to you?”

  “He is my life, Papa.” In that she had not lied, because she saw no future without Mark. “I will have no other.”

  “All right.” He narrowed his stare. “And you are certain it is not merely a crush or a flighty fancy, which--”

  “It is neither a crush nor a fancy, and you insult me with such absurd assertions.” She lifted her chin. “I love Lieutenant Douglas, and he owns me, body and soul.”

  “Even after these months apart?” Papa inclined his head. “And smile, else you will announce our contretemps to the guests and embarrass our family.”

  Amanda bared her teeth. “Even more so, after these months apart.”

  “Strong words.” Her father compressed his lips. “And you cannot be dissuaded?”

  “I know no other language, when it comes to my heart.” Somehow, she had to make him understand her perspective and devotion. “And I will not yield.”

  “Well said, yet I expected no less.” He opened and then closed his mouth. “My dear, have you not wondered at my reasons for delaying your engagement?”

  “Of course, but you have refused to enlighten me, and Mark has steadfastly maintained your confidence in his letters.” Much to her frustration, which she would take up with him when next they met. “So I am to guess.”

  “No, you need not postulate, as I would explain myself.” Again, he twirled her, as Mama encouraged the guests to merge on the dance floor, and the orchestra transitioned into a second waltz. “You see my aim was to test the mettle of your prospective bridegroom, as I could not relinquish you, my pride and joy, to just anyone.”

  “What?” In her befuddlement, she tripped, but her sire kept her upright. “Oh, Papa, you must know that Mark is most deserving.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” Now Papa chucked her chin. “But I had to gauge his capacity for discretion, even under the most trying circumstances, and neither could I forfeit you to a minor lieutenant, as I have great plans for him.”

  “Do you?” Stunned, she blinked. “So you approve his suit? You will allow us to marry?”

  “As I promised your estimable lieutenant, I shall consent when he meets the whole of my conditions.” He chuckled when she squealed with arrant delight. “Am I to understand I have, at last, made you happy?”

  In answer to his query, Amanda hugged her father, and she relaxed, when he lifted her from her feet and carried her about the rotation, as he had when she was but a child. And then he hummed with the lilting movement, as he had done on many a night, at her bedside, evoking fond memories of carefree times.

  “Papa, I do love you.” Tears threatened, and she willed herself to remain calm. “And I am sorry we quarreled.”

  “It is all right, girl.” When the music ended, he eased his hold and then kissed her forehead. “Have faith in Douglas, as I believe he will satisfy you. Now savor the fête, as the night is young.”

  With that, she recalled her evening ritual, her date with Mark and the North Star. After a quick curtsey, Amanda weaved through the throng until she reached the back wall. Peering out the window, she discovered her err in orientation and hurried to the correct bearing. And then she spied what she had come to think of as their star, twinkling as a beacon of hope for the prospects she desperately desired.<
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  “Oh, my darling.” She pressed her nose to the glass. “How I miss you.”

  “Talking to yourself?” Helen chortled and shifted her weight. “Or have you completely lost your head over Douglas?”

  “Hush, cousin.” Gazing at the sky, and sending private and inappropriate thoughts to her man, she refused to be baited or distracted. “I have a very important assignation, which you cannot fathom.”

  “With a particular sailor?” Helen clucked her tongue.

  “Yes.” She pictured him as he had loomed at the base of the trellis, and she uttered his name in silence. Was there anything so sad as watching a loved one walk away?

  “I suppose your separation must be difficult to endure,” Helen remarked with unmasked sympathy.

  “More than you can apprehend, unless you have survived similar circumstances.” Was he somewhere on the deep blue sea, perusing their star at that instant?

  “So you are most anxious to be reunited.” Helen gave Amanda a gentle nudge. “You still fancy him?”

  “Of course.” She rested her chin on her clasped hands. “And I love Mark.”

  “Then you look in the wrong direction, little one.” Helen grabbed Amanda by the shoulders and whirled her about to face the gala. “As it appears we have a late arrival.”

  The world rocked beneath her feet, and she tensed. Standing in the entranceway, tall, sun-kissed, and gorgeous, wearing regimentals that bore braided regalia identical to that of her gown, her beloved scanned the crowd. When their eyes met, he favored her with a slow, sensual smile, and Amanda all but screamed, “Mark.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The music died, as Amanda shrieked his name, and a murmur built, low at first but increasing as incoming tidewater. Captain Mark Douglas splayed his arms wide in welcome. To his absolute delight, his lady started in his direction with unveiled enthusiasm. By her second step, she had hiked her skirts in a scandalous display of her calves, broken into a full sprint, and the crowd parted to permit her passage. When she leaped, he caught her, mid-air, and she showered his face in sweet kisses.

  “Er--Amanda.” He cast a side-glance at her father, who appeared none too pleased by his daughter’s unabashed ardor. “Darling, we are in mixed company.”

  “I do not care, as I missed you terribly.” And then she framed his cheeks and pressed her lips to his.

  Mark should have chastised his lady, regarding her gross breach in etiquette, should have shown restraint and set an example, should have resisted her untutored but nonetheless potent advances, yet his heretofore vaunted discipline, which had vanquished untold enemies in the heat of battle, conceded to the sheer power of her unchecked desire. And, heaven help him, he was hungry.

  The gentlemen chuckled, and the ladies giggled, in a comedic chorale.

  “Take her to my study and calm her.” The marquess wrenched Mark. “And be quick about it, as we shall make the announcement just prior to dinner.”

  Given his society maiden’s outright refusal to release him, he managed a half-nod, tightened his arms at her waist, and carried her from the gala, across the foyer, into a side hall, and entered the man’s domain he remembered so well. Considering Amanda’s propensity to defeat his defenses, he locked the door before easing his hold.

  And then Mark made a series of inappropriate maneuvers of his own; as he cupped her bottom, thrust his hips, and slaked his aching arousal in the softness of her belly. Angling his head, he assumed control and claimed her mouth, nipping and suckling her sumptuous flesh, and her moan well nigh slayed him. It had been too long since he had tasted her.

  “Where have you been, when did you return to London, and why have you not paid call?” Breathing heavily, she rested her forehead to his. “How I have yearned for you.”

  True to form, she embarked on an interrogation, neither frivolous nor consequential, and ended with an expression of affection, and he could only laugh at her haughty demeanor. “Oh, my Amanda, I have endured your absence as the cruelest cut to the heart since the morning I stood at the base of your window and bade you farewell.”

  With a squeal, she charged with the force of an entire brigade, and he stumbled and tripped backwards until he dropped into a large chair. And to her credit, she never allowed a hairsbreadth of distance between them, as she hitched her skirts and straddled his thighs.

  Advantageously situated, he at last partook an unfettered examination of his lady, and what he spied gave him immediate cause for concern, as no endearing blush invested her cheeks. Instead, her complexion had paled, dark circles framed her blue eyes, and she appeared thinner.

  “You have waned, love.” He tipped her chin. “Have you been ill?”

  “Yes, for want of you, and I simply cannot bear it.” She scored her nails to the nape of his neck. “And once we are married I wish never to be separated from you again, so you will take me with you when next you sail.”

  “Ah, there is my officious little thing.” Of course, Mark would not admit he had already arrived at the same conclusion, as he knew from past experience he could not allow her so much sway. “Amanda, I should warn you life is hard at sea.”

  “I care not, as long as I am with you.” She nuzzled his temple. “As the days are far more difficult without you.”

  “And it is dangerous.” Perhaps it was a bit of fortunate foresight he had hired a tradesman to install an extra large bunk, and a tub that would accommodate two, in his new cabin.

  “What have I to fear, with you at my side?” Amanda caught the crest of his ear with her teeth.

  “I must maintain ruthless control and discipline aboard ship.” Jolly Roger, excluded, because his overly jolly Roger had just run up the colors. “You must abide my dictates, without question.”

  “I shall obey your every command.” She unbuttoned his coat and waistcoat. “You need but convey your directives.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He groaned, as she shifted, but it was too late when he discerned her intent. Before he realized it, she had unhooked his breeches, positioned herself, and eased her body down, cocooning his rock-solid length in her warmth, in much the same fashion as she had enacted their first union. “Bloody hell, Amanda.”

  “Please, do not scold me, as I need you.” The relief in her countenance halted his reproach, and then she danced as he had taught her on that magnificent night.

  So Mark reclined in the chair, let her have her way, and she rode him hell-bent for leather into voluptuous oblivion. And in the dark recesses of his mind still capable of coherent thought, he wondered if there were anything so erotic as his bride-to-be in the throes of passion.

  It seemed as blissful hours, but in reality only a handful of minutes had passed in heated, panting, lustful, intensely silent endeavors. When Mark surfaced from a gut-wrenching climax, he discovered his lady collapsed against his chest.

  “That ought to give you something to ponder as you negotiate our marriage contract with Papa--ouch.” With a frown, she propped herself and then retrieved her miniature from his pocket. “Oh, no. What happened to my portrait?”

  “It is a long story.” One he had not planned to share just yet.

  “I am rather fond of long stories,” she replied in a small voice. “And I have an awful feeling.”

  So despite preferences otherwise, he detailed the events of the boarding, as well as the ensuing melee. But he would not ruin the special occasion, which he had carefully plotted with her father. “My dear, we should return to the party.”

  “Not until you explain the dent in the frame.” She sat upright.

  “Amanda--”

  “Now.” With arms folded, she seemed completely impervious to the fact that she still held his flesh deep within hers.

  “After the pirates had surrendered, I gathered my officers on the quarterdeck to issue orders.” Mark braced for her response. “Without warning, a sniper jumped from behind a barrel and shot me.”

  “What?” She tensed around him, and he gritted his teeth, as
the cannon in his crotch reloaded and primed for a second assault.

  He grimaced. “There is no need to overreact, because your gift deflected the ball, and--”

  “I am not overreacting.” She clutched the lapels of his coat. “And I would have the whole of it, sir.”

  “The blackguard had a deuced fine aim.” He speared his fingers through his hair. “He struck me in the chest, but your talisman guarded my heart in more ways than one. You saved my life, darling.”

  In that instant, she unfastened his shirt and gasped when her gaze lit upon what remained of the nasty bruise, which had faded considerably in the brief six weeks it had taken him to sail to London, because he had kept the canvas hardened in and shaved a sennight off the usual journey. Tracing the outline of his injury, she met his stare, and a tear coursed her cheek.

  “We are not at war, and you could have been killed.” Amanda sniffed. “What on earth possessed you to undertake such dangerous actions?”

  “It was the only means to make post.” With his thumb he trailed the gentle curve of her jawline.

  “And that matters?” She rested her head on his shoulder, skimmed the lawn, and pressed her palm to his skin. “I would have married you as a lieutenant, as I care not for your rank.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her hair. “But your father required I promote as his primary stipulation to bless our betrothal.”

  “And yet his precondition could have landed you in a premature grave.” She snaked her arms about his waist and squeezed.

  “True.” He hissed as she flexed her muscles, and he was a vast deal more than ready to weigh anchor in her harbor, again. “But without my Amanda I am already dead, so I had to risk it all for you.”

  “For us, I suspect.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “And now I suppose we should return to the ballroom, as Papa awaits, but I would rather spend the night, here, with you.”

  “Perhaps.” He shuffled the yards of silk to locate her bare bottom. With his hands at her hips, he held her firm as he thrust. “But there is no reason we cannot linger a tad longer.”

 

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