by Brenda Joyce
And whenever he brooded about that, his insides turned into knots.
He had begun to have some grave doubts about being able to hand her over to someone else at the wedding altar.
“Cliff,” Tyrell said from behind him.
Cliff was dismayed but he halted, facing his oldest brother, who had stepped out of the smaller salon where he now saw Rex and Sean seated. Everyone was already attired in their black tailcoats and evening trousers. Not only did he wish to see his children and Amanda, he had to get a leg on.
He had also begun to think about the waltz. He could not help it—he couldn’t wait to take her in his arms and dance her around the room.
But he hadn’t seen Tyrell in almost a year. He respected and was very fond of his older brother, never mind that he was becoming more and more like Adare every day. He smiled and the two men embraced.
“You are late,” Tyrell remarked, a slight smile on his face.
“I am aware of that. What time are we leaving?” He tried to control his impatience. Why hadn’t Amanda smiled at him? Perhaps she was angry with him for his behavior when he had left London. It had been churlish, and if she was angry, he wouldn’t blame her.
“Half past seven. Are you rushing up the stairs to dress?” Tyrell asked too casually.
Cliff stared at him. “Why else would I be rushing up those stairs?”
Tyrell smiled. “There was some doubt today about your return.”
His tension eased very slightly. “Why? I gave Amanda my word I would return for the ball. She has promised me the first dance. How is she?”
“Very well,” Tyrell remarked, “in spite of the fact that someone spread a nasty little rumor that she is a pirate’s daughter.”
Cliff felt himself still. Rage began. “What?”
Tyrell briefly told him what had happened.
Cliff trembled with more rage. As Sean and Rex stepped into the hall, he said, “She must have been devastated.”
“She wasn’t in the least bit devastated, and in any case, the rumor has been laid to rest,” Tyrell said.
Cliff didn’t believe him. Amanda’s worst fear had been the scorn of society. He turned to rush up the stairs, but Sean stepped in front of him. “If you are on your way up to visit your children or if you are going up to dress, I can allow you to pass.” His expression was bland. “But I am under strict orders from my wife not to allow you to see Amanda before she finishes dressing.”
He was in disbelief. “I wish to speak to her. She is my ward!”
Sean started laughing at him. “You are besotted. Why don’t you give in, surrender, confess, admit it?”
Cliff felt like landing a solid blow in his stepbrother’s smug face. “You are the besotted one. For God’s sake, every time I enter a room, I have to scan the premises to make certain you and Eleanor aren’t behaving like adolescent lovers behind the sofa.”
Rex approached, also clearly amused. “You are not allowed to visit Amanda until she comes downstairs. Relax, Cliff. It’s only been, what, two weeks?”
“It has been eighteen days,” he growled, and when everyone chuckled, clearly entertained by him, he turned red.
“I suggest you greet your children and make some haste,” Tyrell said evenly. He turned and walked back into the salon. Sean followed.
Cliff looked at Rex, who sobered. “She is fine. She has great courage and even greater dignity, Cliff. She stepped out the next day with the countess and Tyrell and an end was put to the gossip before it began.”
“Are you certain?” Cliff asked intensely. “Because you do not know the condescension she suffered while growing up on the island.”
“I am very sure. Cliff? The waif you brought home in August is gone.”
Instantly, he recalled Amanda standing in the hall at Ashford House, clad in a pale pink silk nightgown, the most desirable woman he had ever beheld. He already knew the waif was gone. “I need a hot bath,” he said, a lie, because he needed a cold one. And he turned and ran up the stairs.
IT WAS PRECISELY half past seven when he came down the stairs, clad in his tuxedo and making a final adjustment to his necktie. His heart was thundering and he could not deny why. It felt as if eighteen months had passed since he had been with Amanda, not eighteen days.
His entire family was assembled in the hall, apparently waiting for him. He saw no one, as his steps slowed and he reached for the banister to steady himself.
She stood in their midst, a vision in white and gold.
His thundering heart turned over hard one final time and he stilled.
Amanda smiled hesitantly at him.
He stared, no longer capable of drawing a breath. Her hair was swept up, tendrils framing her beautiful face, and her exotic green eyes were riveted to his. The ball gown was almost Grecian in style, sensually flowing over her curves. She wore his pearls at her throat but the countess’s diamond jewelry. She was more than beautiful, and now, there was no more denying how he felt.
He had missed her so badly he had decided to return earlier than planned a dozen times in eighteen days. Now, he knew why.
She had become the center of his life the day he had rescued her from Governor Woods. She was still the center of his life. She meant everything to him. He could never bear such a separation again.
I am in love, he thought, incredulous. In his entire life, he had never been more stunned.
He stood there, staring, overwhelmed by the enormity of his emotions.
For this was what love was and he had no more doubts. It was a huge and swelling, all-consuming joy, a sense of completion, exhilaration and need. He needed Amanda the way he needed the wind and the sea to live, to breathe. And it was so much passion, at once raw and emotional. And it was the determination to never see her hurt, abused or scorned again.
He had fought it as hard as he could. Someone had told him earlier to surrender. He was so dazed and overwhelmed he couldn’t recall who had done so, but that person was right. It was time to surrender at last.
It was time to surrender to Amanda.
He realized that the hall was silent and he had been standing there staring at her as if a smitten, speechless fool. Well, he decided, stepping down the last steps, finally smiling, that was what he now was—senselessly besotted and smitten, at long last a man in love.
She stared as he approached, her eyes huge, as if she somehow knew.
He didn’t think twice. He touched her chin, tilted it up. “You are too lovely, Amanda. So lovely, it is hard to even speak.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, then filled with relief. She smiled at him, and her eyes told him she had missed him terribly, too.
He realized he was smiling widely, helplessly, himself.
“You’re not angry?” she finally asked.
“No.” He touched her cheek, her neck. His body stirred. He thought about kissing her, deeply, and then he thought about finally making love to her, until he heard a cough. He hesitated, controlling the now-consuming urge. “I bought you something.”
She nodded, her eyes shining, and he reached into his pocket and brought out a velvet jeweler’s box. He opened it, revealing pearl and diamond drop earrings. Amanda wet her lips. “You thought of me,” she whispered. “While you were gone.”
“Yes.” He handed her the box, aware of his having made a huge understatement, and took one earring and fastened it to her ear. As he touched the lobe, his loins engorged more fully and she also stiffened. He knew his tension was also hers. Their gazes met.
She no longer smiled.
Tonight, he thought, he would touch and caress and mold and taste every part of her nude body. Such thoughts were not helpful and he forced them aside. He fastened the other earring and dropped his hands. They had been trembling.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He just smiled, still overcome by the bursting emotions in his chest. He would analyze them later, and later, he would also consider what they really meant for them both. It was
still hard to comprehend that he could be feeling this way. He held out his arm. “We have a ball to attend.”
She took it, smiling. “Yes, we do.”
AMANDA WAS DAZED. She was in a palatial Greenwich home, in a magnificent ballroom the size of Cliff’s ship, surrounded by hundreds of elegant ladies and gentlemen from the uppermost crust of society, and she was on Cliff’s arm. He had been introducing her left and right to almost everyone they passed as they made their way through the glittering, bejeweled, laughing throng. No one had been condescending, nor had there been any curious stares. Amanda realized that the rumor Jane Cochran had tried to spread had been killed before it had ever had a chance to flourish.
Most important of all, Cliff wasn’t angry with her.
In fact, whenever their gazes met, which was repeatedly, he sent her a soft smile and Amanda was instantly breathless.
She wasn’t sure what was happening. She only knew that she did not want the night to ever end. But it would, and tomorrow she was going to tell him that she must leave.
“The dancing is about to begin,” Cliff murmured. They had paused near the edge of the dance floor. Gentlemen were leading their partners out. Cliff faced her, releasing her arm for the first time in hours, and he bowed.
She curtsied, overwhelmed by his beauty, his masculinity, her love. In fact, she loved him so much her heart ached from the vastness of the emotion. The evening promised to be perfect. And now, they were making a memory she would cherish forever.
Amanda reminded herself not to think about the next day, not until dawn came. She was going to live that night as if it was the only night in time.
He held out his hand and she slipped her palm into his. Smiling, he led her a few steps onto the floor and she moved closer, her palm closing on his shoulder as his fingers touched her waist. The full orchestra began to play, and Cliff began to waltz her across the room.
Amanda gave herself over to the sheer joy of being one with the man she loved. The floor vanished as they floated effortlessly.
Amanda met his gaze, which was suddenly so intent. If she did not know better, she would think him as deeply in love as she was. She warned herself not to read too much into his warmth and affection. He had always been fond of her and he had never been afraid to acknowledge it.
“You seem happy,” he said softly.
“I have never been happier,” she admitted.
“Then I am glad.” His gaze slid over her face briefly, to the edge of her bodice. When it lifted, he smiled again.
Amanda’s heart turned over hard.
They did not speak again, and when the music ended, Amanda gazed into his beautiful eyes, wishing for another turn. “Will you give me another dance?” she whispered.
His jaw flexed. “I would love to, but your card is full.” He casually glanced away, then back. “I will take the last dance, Amanda.”
She smiled, relieved.
But then he spoke, his tone odd. “Have there been many suitors while I was gone?”
She tensed. “Yes. Your father made certain of it.”
His glance slid away as he led her from the dance floor. “I must speak with Adare in the morning, then.”
She was shocked. In spite of the intimacy they had been sharing, in spite of his warm, lingering glances, his intentions hadn’t changed. He would still marry her off to another. Dismay filled her. But she already knew how easily he could hurt her. That was the price of her love.
She pulled her hand from his. Her intentions hadn’t changed either, but of course, he did not know what she planned.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Amanda. Maybe we can take dessert together, as well,” he said, formally bowing.
“I will plan on it,” Amanda returned, managing a smile. She stared after him, wishing the dance could have lasted forever, until someone coughed. She turned, realizing a gentleman was awaiting his turn. She somehow curtsied as he bowed, not quite catching his name, and a moment later, she was being escorted back onto the dance floor. As another waltz began, she glanced back at the crowd and saw Cliff staring at her, his gaze hard and bright. She did not know what such a bold and displeased look could signify, other than that he did not care for her current partner. She sighed and gave up trying to comprehend him. It was going to have to be enough that they were friends again.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Amanda stood by herself near a large gilded column, exhausted from so much activity and attention, not to mention the state of her emotions. She had gotten through two-thirds of her card, and she wished it were not full. She doubted she could manage another dozen dances but she would, so she could have one last dance with Cliff.
The dance floor remained crowded. She saw Eleanor in Sean’s arms, being whirled about, the two of them looking as besotted as newlyweds. She smiled, trying to imagine what such love must be like, but she quickly gave up. That kind of affection was not going to be a part of her life and she must focus on her future as a respectable lady and an island merchant.
A moment later she saw Cliff on the dance floor and her heart leaped wildly. She would always thrill at the sight of him. He was taller than most of the men in the room, his tawny hair glinting under the lights from the three crystal chandeliers, and he was dancing with Honora Deere, who was crimson and starry-eyed. Amanda smiled, understanding the young lady too well. Even though Honora had been with Jane Cochran that awful day, Amanda was happy Cliff was giving her a dance.
“Miss Carre?” Garret MacLachlan appeared, bowing.
She smiled, not having realized he was at the ball. Her eyes widened. He was clad as a Highlander in a bright blue jacket, a blue, black and red kilt, his knees bare, and blue stockings. He wore a beret, as well, and a ceremonial sword. Amanda curtsied, for he had never been more handsome, but to her surprise, he took her gloved elbow and prevented her from sinking deeply, helping her to rise instead. “My lord.”
His smile was odd. “I ha’ been admirin’ye fer some time now, lass. Ye be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
She knew she blushed. “You, sir, are a terrible flirt.”
But he did not smile. “I be speakin’ the truth. Amanda,” he said, startling her as they were not on a first name basis, “I ha’ come to say g’bye.”
Her eyes widened. “You are leaving?”
“Aye. I ha’ been summoned home. Will ye miss me?”
She hesitated. “Of course,” she began, but she did not want to lead him on.
His eyes darkened and he studied her. “Ye love yer guardian,” he finally said. “I watched ye dancin’, Amanda. I watched yer eyes.”
Amanda did not know what to say. Then she thought of how Garret had accepted the truth about her life with such steadfast poise and nobility, praising her for her accomplishments instead of scorning her for her past, and she touched his arm. “Yes, I do.”
He slowly shook his head. “Then I wish ye the best, lass.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Aye, I ken.”
“No, it’s not what you think. I love Cliff and I always will, but he doesn’t return my feelings. I am going home, Garret, to the island, and I am never marrying anyone.”
Garret smiled oddly. “I dinna think ye’ll get far,” he said.
She started, not certain as to his meaning.
Then he took her hand and kissed it warmly, surprising Amanda. “G’bye, lass.” He bowed briefly and strode off.
Amanda stared after him, as did every woman he passed. She sighed, thinking that she would miss him, for he had become a friend. She did not think she had broken his heart, however. He had never declared his love for her, and she did think him a bit of a rake. She fervently hoped he would one day find someone to love him as he deserved.
“Amanda?” a woman asked, from behind her.
Amanda did not recognize the woman’s voice. The intimate form of address was very incorrect. Somewhat taken aback, she turned. And instantly she became rigid.
A very elegant and
beautiful blond woman stood there, attired in a magnificent rose satin gown, her diamonds sparkling. Amanda inhaled, feeling as if someone had struck her a brutal blow in her chest.
The woman was blond, green-eyed, beautiful and so oddly familiar. It was almost like looking at herself in the mirror in another decade or two.
Amanda stiffened.
“You know who I am,” Dulcea said, her tone strained, her regard unwavering.
“I know. You are Dulcea Belford,” Amanda said tersely.
Dulcea hesitated. “I am your mother, dear,” she said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AMANDA STARED, trying to breathe with composure. This was her mother—the woman who had dealt her the ultimate blow. The anguish Dulcea had caused, which Amanda had thought successfully vanquished, surged forth, briefly paralyzing her. She had been anticipating this encounter, but she had never dreamed it would be tonight.
“I am your mother,” Dulcea repeated softly. Her regard was intent.
“No,” Amanda finally said, firmly. She held her head high, terribly glad she was wearing the jewelry Cliff had given her and the diamonds, which belonged to the countess. She could not think clearly, perhaps because her heart was racing with such alarming speed. But Amanda knew one thing. She must not allow her mother to ever learn that she had caused her so much grief.
“I have no mother. I have never had a mother. I had a father, but he is dead.” She fought emotions which seemed determined to arise. “Let us not pretend for a single moment that we are mother and daughter.” Amanda pressed back against the wall. “We are not.”
Dulcea gasped. “That is unkind!” But her gaze was moving over Amanda from head to toe. She kept looking up at the diamond and pearl tiara.
It was another moment before Amanda could speak. “No, Lady Belford, I believe you are the unkind one.” Amanda told herself to turn and walk away. There need not be any kind of discussion at all. Not far was a billiards room, where ladies and gentlemen were engaged in conversation and games. She could go there and mingle. But she could not make herself walk away, and she began to shake. “I came here after my father’s death to find you. It was Papa’s dying wish! Do you think I wanted to leave the island? Do you think I ever once believed you would welcome me? But I could not refuse my father. How dare you accuse me of being unkind?”
