He shut the door and spun her around to lean back against it. “Welcome home, Mrs. Haddon,” he said.
Miranda looked into his eyes and saw a softness there she’d never seen before. “I’m happy to be here, Captain Haddon.”
With a grin, Alex lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She held him tight, her nose against the warmth of his neck, marveling at how right this felt.
Alex set her down in front of the bed.
Ten years ago, they had stood on the banks of a river in the Ohio Valley and pledged their troth. Now they stood in his cabin, their bodies swaying with the motion of the ship, and repeated the words they had once whispered in the Shawnee way, words neither of them had forgotten.
“You are my star,” Alex said. “My guide.” He unlaced the back of the exquisite dress she had worn for her betrothal ball, reverently placing a kiss at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met.
Miranda placed her hands on his shoulders and slipped them beneath his jacket. “Your courage keeps me safe,” she said. “No warrior is braver.” She slid his coat off his shoulders to drop at their feet.
Alex began removing the pins from her hair. “Your body is strong,” he said, pulling the ribbon out from the tumbling curls. “Your children will have your beauty.”
“And their father’s strength,” Miranda answered. She undid the first button on his breeches. Alex grinned, and she could only smile back.
He grew serious. “Their father,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that word. I’ll be a good father, Miranda. I shall be there for my sons and daughters. I shall always be there for you.”
Here were new words, ones they hadn’t spoken. He sealed that pledge with a kiss, one that melted Miranda’s last secret doubts.
How she loved this man. He was her destiny. Her fate.
Let the Duke of Colster and all the forces in the world bring on their best. She and Alex would be more than match enough for any of them.
She tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waist of his breeches. Still kissing, they both started smiling, and only broke apart for her to slip his shirt over his head.
He slid her dress down over her shoulders to fall to the deck. Stockings, breeches, petticoats, and garters followed. They tossed each aside until they were at last gloriously naked, their bodies bathed silver in the moonlight.
Alex laid her back on the mattress, settling himself over her. Miranda cradled him between her legs, more than ready for him.
“I love you,” he whispered and slowly entered.
The feeling of him this close, this deep was a bounty from God Himself. Tears came to her eyes. He kissed them away, understanding.
Slowly, he began to move. There was no urgency between them at first. They gave this moment the reverence it deserved. From this night forward, they were man and wife. One in each other.
Heat began building in Miranda, a need as old as time. She met her husband’s thrusts now, her legs tightening around his hips. The pace and force of their coupling took on more purpose. They knew where they were going, what they wanted.
His hand covered her breast. He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her ears, and her neck, all the while whispering in Shawnee and English how beautiful she was, how radiant like a star. His star. He repeated it over and over.
Miranda hugged him close. Her body was no longer her own. She was a star, one of heat and startling pinpoints of sensation so fine and tight, she wanted to cry out in the joy of them.
With each thrust, Alex went deeper. She knew he was as lost to the moment as she. The gentle roll of the Warrior only added to the pleasure.
And then he lifted up, bracing his weight with his arms, and buried himself deep, saying her name as he released the force of life into her.
It filled Miranda in ways she’d not imagined. Muscles tightened, and she could feel the contractions. Life heated her blood. It raced through her veins, nourishing a need she’d not experienced before. This was the purpose of life, her reason for being.
The recognition took her to a place she’d never known. She was no longer flesh and bone but light and being. She eclipsed even the heavens, and when she safely drifted back to the moment, she found herself in his arms.
Neither of them spoke. She knew Alex was as deeply impacted by what had just happened as she.
They lay in each other’s arms, holding tight, his head against her shoulder, their legs intertwined.
Miranda placed a kiss on his thick, dark hair. The hair he had cut for her. She tightened her hold around him.
He answered by placing a light kiss on the tip of her breast. The brush of his breath on her too sensitive skin tickled and made her smile.
She slid down to snuggle against his chest. She loved his face, his strong, masculine face—and that was when she noticed the tear in the corner of his eye. It was like a drop of silver in the moonlight. She touched it. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the finger that had wiped away that tear.
Turning on her side to face him, she asked, “Have I done something wrong?”
He smiled. “Everything could not be more right. All my anger is gone, Miranda. My father, the years when I felt so lost. Even my fury at your father—gone.”
“What changed it?”
“You. Our love. Our future.” He said this last as he placed his hand on the flat of her stomach, and she knew what he meant. She, too, sensed that this night would bear a living proof of their love.
And in that moment, her love for him grew fourfold. Her Alex. Her warrior.
She’d found where she belonged.
Epilogue
September 15, 1806
My dearest sisters,
Alex and I are married. We said our vows in front of a cleric in Amsterdam only yesterday afternoon. The crew of the Warrior served as our witnesses. The ceremony was in the tiniest room I’ve ever been in. Every sailor insisted on being present, and it was a very crowded. Alex’s first mate, Oliver, assured me they all wanted to make certain he did right by me…and so he has. I am truly Mrs. Alexander Haddon in every way and the happiest of women.
Now we set sail for Ceylon. Alex was originally on his way there when he came back for me. It shall be a long trip, but I find I quite like the seafaring life and believe I can be an asset to his venture. I have bullied the cook into using my recipe for stew, his was terrible, no flavor at all, and spend time every day with the others mending sails. I’ve even learned a sea chantey or two, although Alex will not let me climb any masts. Yet. (It’s nice to not have to worry about wearing shoes any longer. Yes, Charlotte, I know, I know. We are the granddaughters of the Earl of Bagsley, but he would have taken his shoes off aboard ship, too.)
Who would have thought when we left the valley that our lives would take this turn?
I think of you daily and keep you in my prayers. Please, do not worry for me. I am where I belong. I love him, Charlotte. I always have.
And, yes, Constance, love is everything they say it is.
I pray both of you may find the happiness I have found. I know I owe this all to you, my sisters and dearest friends, and someday I promise to repay the debt.
I must go. We stayed the night in a hotel but need to leave for the ship. My life is now ruled by the tides. I follow the wind and the currents.
Please take care of yourselves. Alex assures me that his money will keep you safe. Spend it. Use it to pursue your own happiness. We have no need of it. Everything we could ever want is right here between us.
I can’t wait for the moment when I shall see you both again. Alex tells me we may be gone six months, maybe more. I will write whenever I have a chance and worry until the moment we are together again.
Forgive me for following my heart.
Your loving sister,
Miranda
Charlotte finished reading the letter aloud to Constance and Isabel, who gently bounced the baby Diane on her knee. They sat in the morning room. It was half past th
ree, a time that would have seen the house full of callers back when Miranda was being pursued by the Duke of Colster.
They now sat alone.
Thoughtfully, Charlotte folded the letter they had received just that day while Constance leaned back into her chair with a happy sigh. “This is the way it should be,” Constance announced. “The way Mother would have wanted it.”
“Yes, she would,” Charlotte agreed. The letter was dated in September. It was now the first of October. She wondered where Alex and Miranda sailed now. The world was a very big place.
Diane reached for the pearls around Isabel’s neck, intent on putting them in her mouth. Isabel distracted the baby with a rattle. “But what of the two of you?” she asked. “You have the right to be happy, too. Please say you will change your minds about leaving.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Constance will benefit from a year in a school like Madame Lavaliere’s Academy, and I need to search for my own destiny.” She held up Miranda’s letter. “My own happiness.”
Nor could she stand idly by and watch the Duke of Colster’s rage spill over onto the Seversons when it was the Cameron sisters who had incited his wrath.
The man had turned out to be completely unreasonable. With one word, he’d seen that all doors to the ton were closed to them. Overnight, he had made them infamous. Everywhere they went, even to church, Charlotte could overhear people whispering about them. He’d also set into motion a plan to ruin the firm of Severson and Haddon, Ltd. Already good customers were evading Michael’s calls.
“I don’t want to go to some boarding school,” Constance said. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You must,” Charlotte answered. “Lady Overstreet was a ninny, but she was right about one thing. You need a bit of polish, and Madame Lavaliere’s will give it to you.”
“We know nothing about the school except they will accept me and they are in Scotland, hardly a fashionable place,” Constance countered mutinously. She’d not been happy with the idea, but Charlotte would not budge. She needed to keep Constance someplace safe until the duke cooled off and eventually forgot about them. Of course, all the London schools had politely but firmly suggested Charlotte look elsewhere for her sister’s education. Even the schools Charlotte had queried in the rest of England had refused even so much as an interview.
“Scotland is not so bad,” Charlotte said. “Edinburgh is said to be a seat of learning.”
“It sounds like the end of the world,” Constance muttered, a comment that made Charlotte laugh.
“We’ve already lived at one end of the world in the Ohio Valley,” she told Constance. “Now you shall experience the other.”
“But what about you?” Isabel asked Charlotte. “What will you do?”
“I’ve not quite decided yet. First I shall take Constance to school and then?” She shook her head. “Perhaps I shall stay in Scotland, too. I could set up a literary salon and entertain the artists in the city.”
“Artists in Scotland?” Constance snorted her opinion. In the short time they’d been there, she had become a Londoner.
Charlotte put Miranda’s letter on a side table and, rising, held out her hands for the baby, who came willingly. She liked her “Auntie” Charlotte. Resting Diane on her hip, Charlotte said, “Whatever I do, it will not be to give in to that ill-tempered Duke of Colster. I may be the Earl of Bagsley’s granddaughter, but I’ve cut my teeth on American independence. Someday Constance and I will return to London, and when we do, His High-and-Mighty Grace had best watch himself. We have a score to settle. Are you ready to pack, Constance?”
About the Author
CATHY MAXWELL spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question “Why do people fall in love?” which remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs and cats.
Fans can contact Cathy at
www.booktalk.com/cmaxwell or PO Box
1532, Midlothian, VA 23113.
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Romances by
Cathy Maxwell
THE PRICE OF INDISCRETION
TEMPTATION OF A PROPER GOVERNESS
THE SEDUCTION OF AN ENGLISH LADY
ADVENTURES OF A SCOTTISH HEIRESS
THE LADY IS TEMPTED
THE WEDDING WAGER
THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT
A SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE
MARRIED IN HASTE
BECAUSE OF YOU
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE
FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN
YOU AND NO OTHER
TREASURED VOWS
ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL
Coming Soon
THE PRICE OF BETRAYAL
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE PRICE OF INDISCRETION. Copyright © 2005 by Cathy Maxwell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books™.
ePub edition July 2005 ISBN 9780061750311
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The Price of Indiscretion Page 24
