Swansea Destiny

by Fayrene Preston

  Jake smiled at her. "I knew you'd understand. Arabella, we won't be but a couple of hours."

  "All right," she said, and looked at Vanessa, who shrugged.

  Marlon supervised the removal of their dinner, then placed a silver coffee service set on a pearl-inlaid table in front of Arabella, and left her and Vanessa to themselves.

  She poured Vanessa a cup of coffee and handed it to her. "Vanessa, I want to ask you about something. To be more specific, I want to know about Jake's fear of flying."

  "You want to know why?"

  "Yes, because if I understood, maybe I could help him."

  "I've just flown more than halfway across the country, Arabella, and I can tell you that flying is something that definitely takes some getting used to."

  "But you did it."

  "Our flying is a testament to how eager Lucas was to get back to Jake, not to any bravery on our part."

  She took a sip of coffee and gazed pensively into the fire. "Maybe the concept of flying came easy to you and your friends, Arabella, but it's not so easy for us North End kids. Fear of falling was ingrained into us at an early age." She paused to take another sip of coffee. "In our neighborhood when we were growing up, innumerable men, women, and children died each summer by accidentally rolling off rooftops, out of windows, and off fire escapes because they were sleeping there, trying to escape the heat of those small, airless apartments we all lived in then. Lucas's only sister, Mary, fell off a windowsill to her death. Mary was seven years old."

  Arabella's head jerked back. "Sometimes I feel so stupid."

  "Don't. But do remember—patterns set in childhood carry over into adulthood. Patterns. It's why it took Jake a long time before he could eat with you. It's why Wade won't be able to rest until he has what Jake has. It's why Lucas and Jake are holed up together now, planning an attack on Wade. Patterns, Arabella. Patterns."

  Dressed in a long deep-blue satin nightgown and robe set, Vanessa leaned back against the open French door and stared out at the night.

  Lucas, his head against a pillow, one leg drawn up, had a gentle smile on his face as he watched her. "What's wrong, honey?"

  "It's a beautiful night," she said.

  "Yes, it is."

  "Do you think if I keep guard here, I can keep the night from ending?"

  "No, it's going to end. And tomorrow is going to come, just like tomorrow night will and the next morning. And then I'll be back."

  "Then I wish we could erase the hours until day after tomorrow. I wish you were already back."

  "You're wishing away a lot of time—a lot of time in which we could be together. I'm here now, and I'll be here tomorrow."

  She closed the distance between them and came down beside him. "I love you, Lucas."

  He looked at her for a moment, his gaze clear blue. "I love you too. You know I do. But, honey, I have to do this. I have to. But it's going to be all right. Tell me you believe that."

  "I believe you," she whispered.

  He reached for her and drew her down to him. And she went, eager for his kisses and caresses, knowing that only in his arms did she ever feel truly safe. And she needed above all things tonight to feel safe.

  The hands of a crystal and diamond clock on the dressing table indicated it was close to midnight. Arabella gazed at Jake's reflection in the mirror as she pulled a silver-backed brush through her hair. He was quiet as he reclined on the bed, wearing only his trousers and staring out at the night. Minutes earlier she had slipped on a nightgown of pale honey-colored crepe georgine with a scalloped hem of Alençon lace and a neckline that dipped to her breasts and left her arms bare. But Jake seemed almost unaware of her, and the cause of his preoccupation had her scared to death.

  Velvet curtains billowed at the French doors as she rose, walked to the opposite side of the bed from him, then sat down and shifted across the wide black satin spread until she was sitting beside his legs. "I think you'd better tell me about it," she said softly.

  He looked at her. "Do you really want to know?"

  "I'll worry less if I know exactly what you're doing."

  "No you won't."

  "Tell me anyway."

  "Okay. Wade has a warehouse in Upstate New York close to the Canadian border. Lucas and I are going to drive over tomorrow evening, just he and I. We'll leave here about seven. Traveling at top speed, we figure five hours there, five hours back."

  "How long will you be there?"

  "An hour at the most. Our information is that there are only a couple of men guarding it at any given time. Our plan is to set the warehouse on fire. That should force the guards outside pretty quick. We'll jump them, tie them up, drag them somewhere safe, and leave before the place blows. Simple. We should be home by dawn."

  She began to tremble. "Don't go." His brows drew together with concern, and he reached out for her to pull her to him, but she held up her hand, warding him off. "No. Please listen to me. I know something has to be done about Wade, but you aren't the person who should be doing it."

  "I have to, Arabella. He's—"

  "I know what he's done! I saw. And I hurt for SwanSea just like you do. But call in government agents on this. You stay home."

  He shook his head, his face set with determination. "Wade has finally succeeded in making this personal for me. It's got to be me and Lucas."

  "No, it doesn't!" She shifted until she was closer to him. "Jake, listen to me. You've asked me to give up a lot for you. You've asked me to spend the rest of my life living with you without the sanction of marriage and without ever being able to know the joy of having a child of my very own. I haven't given you an answer up to this point, but I will now."

  His expression turned to one of alarm. "No, don't say—"

  She drew a deep breath. "I will."

  For a moment he was confused. "You will what?"

  "I will do just as you want. I will never leave you, and the rest of the world can be damned. That's how much I love you, Jake Deverell. I've never told you that before, but I'm telling you now. I love you."

  "Arabella—"

  "Don't interrupt. I'm not through talking yet. Now, I've acquiesced to everything you wanted. And—don't get me wrong, there are no conditions—but it seems to me you could at least do this one thing for me. Go to the Treasury Department. Let them handle Wade. I know you don't love me—"

  "But I do."

  Now it was her turn to be confused. "You do what?"

  "I love you, Arabella. I've loved you for days, weeks, months, probably since I turned around on New Year's Eve and saw you standing in the doorway with those damned peacocks."

  The earth seemed to move beneath her, and definite thrills of amazement washed through her, temporarily stealing her breath and her strength. "That long?"

  "Yes. But my heart is and has always been hard, and it was a long time before I realized, and even longer before I could admit that you had gotten through." He gave a light, self-deprecating laugh. "Hell, did you ever get through—to the point that now I can't imagine living without you. Marry me, Arabella." He gently took her face between his two hands. "Will you marry me?"

  Only moments before she had been so full of words. Now she couldn't think of a single one.

  He smiled softly and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. "I've just asked you to marry me, honey. Do you think you could say something?"

  "You're not playing fair," she said finally. "I asked you not to go after Wade and you hit me with a marriage proposal."

  He dropped his hands from her face. "I have to go after Wade. I've fought against responding in kind to him for months, but I can't fight it any longer. That doesn't change a thing between you and me, though. What's going to happen between Wade and me is not the reason for the marriage. I love you, Arabella. Marry me. Please."

  "Damn you, Jake Deverell," she whispered. "You've just offered me heaven, only you left in a part of hell."

  "Only a small part," he whispered back, skimming the honey-colored crep
e and lace gown from her. "And it won't affect you, only me."

  Without her giving the matter any thought, she reached to help him off with his trousers. "If it affects you, it can't help but affect me. You've got to rethink—" The breath was taken from her body as he pushed her onto her back and slid on top of her.

  "You haven't told me whether you'll marry me or not."

  It was silly, really, she thought, somewhat bewildered. Silly and perverse. She had already told him she would stay with him without marriage. Why couldn't she tell him that she would marry him? She raised her head and briefly fastened her small teeth on his bottom lip. "I guess I haven't, have I?"

  His eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Then I'll just have to convince you, won't I?" He bent his head and gently nibbled at her bottom lip, then dropped lower to her neck, then lower still to her breast.

  She didn't want to respond. She wanted to argue with him about going after Wade, she wanted to shout at him for being blind to the fact that he was putting their future in jeopardy. But the biting kisses he was giving her quickly built a heated tide of feeling in her. The feeling was a delicate blend of a pleasurable pain that already had her mind clouding and her stomach clenching.

  "How am I doing at convincing you?" he asked, his voice rough, his mouth on the tender flesh of her thigh.

  She moaned softly, incapable of concentrating on anything but the rapidly growing need for relief from the tightening pressure that burned and coiled low in her body. "What?"

  "Marry me, Arabella." The words were murmured deep in the folds that guarded the tiny bud of pleasure, and his tongue flicked out against it again and again. "I want you as my wife."

  She barely heard him. Ecstasy had completely taken her over. The ecstasy seemed to have no beginning, no end, and no intention of ever letting her go. It held her in its grip, lifting her up and up until at last a cry tore from her and she went taut, letting the ecstasy take her wherever it wanted.

  Moments later, years later, Jake again came up over her and settled himself between her legs. "You haven't said you'll marry me yet."

  She felt totally exhausted, spent. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up at him and felt a thrill race through her. His black eyes burned like coals.

  Surprised to find her body still throbbed for him, she wrapped her legs around his buttocks. "And," she said, her voice barely above the sound of a breath, "you still haven't said you won't go after Wade."

  He smiled. "I have more stamina than you do, Arabella. You will say yes."

  He entered her with excruciating slowness, then began to stroke in and out of her with a torturous pace that lifted her even higher, transporting her to where there was nothing and no one but the two of them and the rapture.

  Her body was his, her mind and soul were his. And sometime during it all, she cried out, "Yes, yes, yes… damn you, I will marry you."

  And still he didn't let her rest.

  During the night he woke her up time and time again to make love to her. And each time he had a surprise for her.

  The first time she awoke to find that instead of the black satin spread, a sea of snow-white orchids covered her. Amid the sweet, delicate scented flowers, he made love to her with a frenzy that had her believing at any moment that she would surely pass out from the pleasure.

  Another time she awoke to find the flowers gone and a small mountain of pearls in their place. The strands were long, lustrous, and he wound the pearls around the two of them and made love to her gently, so gently she thought she would lose her mind before he finally entered her and gave her the peace she sought.

  At dawn she awoke yet again to… breakfast—a huge white-chocolate ice cream sundae covered in diamond sauce. He put the diamonds on her and ate the white chocolate ice cream from her body.

  She didn't know how the white orchids or the pearls or the sundae came to appear, and she didn't question.

  She accepted that a crystal goblet of moonstones sat on the bedside table when she awoke at ten.

  She accepted the dazzling ruby necklace he put around her neck at noon, the same one she had refused on Valentine's Day.

  And she accepted his unceasing need of her, because she needed him just as much.

  Chapter 13

  "It doesn't look right to me," Jake said to Lucas as they knelt behind a line of shrubs and gazed toward the warehouse. "There's no sign that anyone's there. It's completely dark inside."

  Lucas balanced the stock of his machine gun on one knee and spoke quietly. "The two guards probably decided to take a little nap, that's all."

  "They've got to know that Wade would kill them if he caught them sleeping. No, I think they're in there, but on the alert. There's no way they could be expecting us, but they could be expecting trouble from some other quarter."

  "Then let's torch the place before someone else does."

  Jake shook his head. "I say we go back home and let someone else do our work."

  Lucas shot Jake a look of consternation. "That wouldn't accomplish a damn thing. What's wrong with you?"

  "I don't know. I just have a funny feeling…"

  "Dammit, we're not going back before we burn this place!"

  Jake gazed at him through the eerie silvery light cast by the half moon above them. "You're determined, aren't you?"

  Lucas nodded. "It'll be cream in a can, just like I told you."

  "Okay, then, let's go." Lucas quickly rose, but Jake clamped his hand around his arm and pulled him back down, "First sign of trouble, head to the car. And if there's no trouble, I'll see you back there in five minutes. Right?"

  Lucas gave a jaunty two-fingered salute. "See you there."

  The night was still and quiet as they left their cover and ran toward the warehouse in a half crouch. Lucas reached the building first. He and Jake were both wearing backpacks that held bottles of gasoline. He propped his machine gun against the building and began lighting and tossing the bottles through the open windows.

  Several yards away Jake did the same thing. The gasoline began to do its work and fires popped up. It wouldn't be long before the alcohol in the crates would catch.

  He glanced at Lucas. "We've done enough," he said in a loud whisper. "Let's find the guards and get away from here."

  Lucas grinned at him and stood to toss another lighted bottle through the window. "One more."

  Gunfire blazed through the night, and before Jake's horrified gaze Lucas went down.

  Jake's heart slammed into his throat. "Lucas?" He dropped to the ground and crawled to where Lucas was lying, on his side facing away from him. "Are you all right?" he asked, pulling him onto his back.

  Blood saturated his shirt from the three bullet wounds in his chest.

  Cold, hard fear crashed through Jake, but his touch was gentle and reassuring as he laid his hand against Lucas's face. "I've got you now. Don't worry about a thing. I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

  Lucas tried to grin, but choked instead. "Not this time. Not—"

  Bullets hit the ground beside Jake, kicking up bits of dirt. He glanced up and saw a dark silhouette at the end of the building; simultaneously he reached for his gun and fired several times. He heard a cry and the silhouette crumpled. Another silhouette appeared. He fired again. The dark figure went down.

  He slid his arms around Lucas. "I'm going to carry you to the car now. Hang on. Do you hear me? Lucas?"

  In the red glowing light of the fire, he saw Lucas gaze sightlessly back at him.

  "No, no…" Jake lightly shook him. "Lucas?" For the first time in over a quarter of a century, Lucas didn't answer him. "Lucas!"

  He could feel the increased heat of the fires against his back. Lord, the warehouse could explode at any second. He had to get Lucas to safety. He shrugged out of his pack and tossed it through the nearest window. Then he slung the gun over his shoulder, using its strap, and lifted Lucas into his arms. He was nearly to the car when he heard the building explode behind him. But the fact that they had ac
complished what they had come to do made no impression on him.

  Jake laid Lucas gently on the backseat of the car. And even though he knew it was useless, he took the time to make a pillow out of a blanket for Lucas's head and tenderly covered him with two more.

  To Jake, the ride back to SwanSea seemed to last forever. The roads were long, dark, and lonely. But the memories of all the years he and Lucas had spent together came back to him and kept him busy. He talked to Lucas, asking him if he remembered them as clearly as he did. He gently laughed. He cried steadily. He asked God why, why, why…

  And his heart steadfastly refused to accept what his mind tried to tell him: that there was nothing more he could do for his old friend.

  Periodically he would pull the car off the road and stop so that he could check to make sure Lucas was comfortable. Time and again he tucked then re-tucked the blanket around Lucas, wanting to make sure he didn't get chilled. He'd brush his hair off his forehead and wipe specks of dirt from his face. But try as he might, there seemed to be nothing he could do about the holes in Lucas's chest.

  Dawn had pearlized the summer sky with warm, glowing colors as he carried Lucas's lifeless body into the great entry hall of SwanSea. Arabella was there, wearing the simple little white wool dress she had been wearing when he had left the previous evening. She hadn't been to bed, he reflected, but at least she was safe.

  Then he saw Vanessa. She stood at the base of the staircase, her hand clenched on the marble railing, her face colorless, her dark eyes stricken. "Lucas!"

  "I'm sorry—" His voice broke and tears filled his eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

  Tears coursed silently down her face as she walked to him, taking slow, careful steps. "Did he suffer?"

  "No. It was too fast…"

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marlon and a footman approaching. "Sir, if you'd allow us to help you?"

  He shook his head and his grip on Lucas tight-and leaned his back against the balustrade. Arabella sat close to him.

  "I wish to heaven there was something, but there's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do."