Captain Of Her Heart

by Barbara Devlin

  “You should wash for dinner.”

  Jason blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Our meal is ready.” The object of his affection and the source of his discomfit carried two plates to the table. “Do you not intend to wash before we dine?”

  At that moment, there was only one thing he desired, and it had nothing to do with the meal. Bolstering his defenses, Jason walked to his lady, rested a hand at the small of her back, and stared into her blue eyes. When Alex trailed her tongue across her rosy lips, he stopped short of his destination, as it was a ploy for which he had fallen on occasions his pride had not allowed him to count.

  “Dinner smells delicious.” Given her duplicity, he questioned everything about her, so he dropped his hand to his side and cleared his throat. “Did you cook this, all by yourself?”

  “Indeed.” How sincere she seemed, as she gushed beneath his meager praise. “After you departed this morning, I trapped and skinned the rabbits, just as Molly taught me. And I followed her recipe for hare stew, to the letter.”

  “Ah, my favorite.” No doubt the astute Lady Seymour had seized upon that information and hoped to capitalize on his favor. Jason poured water into the corner basin and scrubbed his hands and face. “By the by, have you misplaced your slippers, or have you started a new trend?”

  “Oh, that?” She shrugged. “Molly prefers to complete her chores without shoes, and I must profess equal fondness for the habit.”

  “You are comfortable?” He pulled out her chair and then settled himself in the opposite seat. “Are you not cold?”

  “Not in the least.” She draped her napkin across her lap and then paused. “Tarrying over a hot stove keeps me plenty warm.”

  Then Alex leaned forward and compressed her lips, and he realized she waited for him to sample her fare. So with heightened expectancy, Jason picked up his fork and speared a generous bite. To relish the experience, he held the sample in his mouth—and almost gagged. The temperature singed the tip of his tongue but not so much to temper the stomach-churning taste.

  In a flash, he bent and spat the repulsive morsel to the plate. To mitigate the foul flavor, he grasped a pint of ale and gulped half the contents.

  “What is wrong?” With shock investing her expression, Alex gasped. “Do you not like it?”

  “Bloody hell.” Shuddering, Jason set down his fork and took another swill of ale to erase the persistent hint of the offensive concoction. “Alex, just how much sugar did the recipe suggest you put in this stew?”

  “Sugar?” His society miss wrinkled her nose and snickered. “Silly man, you do not put—oh. Please, do not tell me I mistook the sugar for salt.”

  “Do not fret, love.” He snorted and then burst into laughter. “I am sure it could happen to anyone, as they are both white.”

  “Perhaps I can set it right? It may only require the addition of salt to counteract the sweetness.” Her mouth fell agape, when he snatched her plate from the table and stood. “Wait—what are you doing?”

  “This fare is fit for neither man nor beast.” Jason dumped their portions into the pot, which he then carried outside. With a hearty heave-ho, he tossed the food to the ground. “Woe the poor creature that stumbles upon your odious feast.”

  “You are horrible to make fun of me.” Alex folded her arms and loitered in the doorway.

  “No, your stew is horrible, and I am honor-bound to save us from it.” He halted at the edge of the stoop, as their respective positions brought them almost eye-to-eye. In a single swift move, he twined her braid in his hand and gently tugged. “But I am proud of you, love.”

  “Proud of what? Regardless of my hard work, I produced an inedible meal unworthy of praise.” She mustered a precious pout and lowered her chin in defeat, and he claimed a whisper of a kiss. “And I did so wish to please you.”

  “Darling Alex.” Jason pulled her closer and rubbed his nose to hers. “What matters is that you tried.”

  And then in defiance of his instincts, he freed her braid, wrapped an arm about her waist, claimed her mouth in a sumptuous assault, carried her into the house, and kicked the door shut behind him, without ever breaking contact. After dropping the empty pot to the table, Jason unleashed his hands, resting a palm to her delectable derriere and the other at the nape of her neck. When he rocked his hips into hers, Alex favored him with a sultry moan, as their tongues dueled.

  The erotic heat of his society maiden, coupled with her succulent lips, far more tempting than the sweetest confection, well nigh drove him insane. And when she wound her arms about his shoulders, and speared her fingers into his hair, he shifted his attention to her modest but accommodating dress.

  In seconds, he perched in a chair, situated his lady in his lap, untied the ribbon at her bodice and chemise, and then bared one breast. At that point, he halted, only to discover Alex watched him. Why was he not surprised? So he pressed on her pliant flesh caresses intended to incite—to arouse. And he recalled the first time he had touched her thus, albeit through a heavy gown.

  In the drawing room at Seymour House, in London, just prior to enlisting his aid in Cara’s plan to catch Lance, Alex had caught his wrist and set his palm to her bosom. To his chagrin, he had assumed her silent plea indicative of a healthy desire for him. Now he wondered if her bold behavior had been nothing more than means to an end.

  Holding her gaze, Jason licked her pert nipple, and his lady gave vent to a plaintive cry. Her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, yet she belied no hint of shyness, trepidation, or fear. So he repeated the decadent maneuver, but he lingered and suckled, as she bucked and wiggled, and his thighs erupted in flames.

  To her credit, Alex never averted her stare, even as he teased her soft skin with gentle nips of his teeth, and in that moment he realized she wanted him. That knowledge worked on him in ways he could not have foreseen, and he turned it to his advantage. “Why did you not tell me the truth about Lance and Cara?”

  “What?” She inhaled a shivery breath, as he sucked hard on her nipple. “Jason.”

  “I want to know, Alex.” Wielding his tongue as a weapon, he lured her into his trap. “I will have the whole of it.”

  “Because Cara begged me not to betray her confidence.” She wrenched her head from side to side and then bit the fleshy part of her hand.

  “And you value her affinity more than mine?” Again and again, he plied her with a licentious massage.

  “No.” With something between a sob and a sigh, she arched her back. “Jason—please.”

  “Why did you lie?” With a flick of his wrist, he hiked her skirt and then walked his fingers to the honey harbor at the center of her core. When he found her warm and wet, he groaned and shifted his weight. “Out with it.”

  “I promised Cara, and I could not break my word.” And then she emitted an achingly sweet cry. “I have known her since birth and you not half so long.”

  “So you acted out of loyalty?” Summoning the expertise of a lifetime, Jason played a masterful accompaniment with his hand and mouth. “And what of us? Am I nothing to you?”

  “You are the captain of my heart.” She twisted and turned to a heady mix of half-screams, moans, and sighs. “Had we an arrangement, I should have allied myself with you. But we have no understanding, so Cara claims my allegiance.”

  Even in the throes of passion, Lady Seymour had made a convincing argument, and he could not dispute her logic, given her strong familial ties. The burden he had carried since discovering her betrayal seemed to vanish, and his thoughts seized on an altogether nobler goal. “Do you remember that afternoon we spent in the drawing room of your home?”

  “Yes,” she responded on a shivery exhale.

  “Why did you encourage me?” He played an arresting drumbeat between her thighs, urging her ever higher, as he clenched his jaw and fought the beast in his breeches. “Were you curious?”

  “Lance did it to Cara.” Alex whimpered and yanked his hair. “I wanted to know you, in that way.”r />
  “Why?” Now her confession was a gem not to be missed. “Am I so special?”

  “Because you make me feel—oh, I know not how to describe it.” Her breath hitched, when he grazed his chin to her nipple. “My belly flutters, as if I have swallowed a swarm of butterflies, and I am warm inside, from head to toe, even when there is no fire in the hearth. And I ache, but it is not painful. It is a hunger, one I can neither explain nor comprehend, but I want more.”

  “And has anyone else affected you, thus?” As he uttered the query, Jason braced for her reply.

  “Only you, Captain of my heart. That is why I had to find you.” She rattled the roof with an ear-splitting shriek, and he suspected she neared completion. “I wanted to make amends, as you are everything to me.”

  “Then consider the matter closed, dearest Alex.” With that, he manipulated the succulent flesh between her legs, faster and faster, increasing the intensity, as he covered her mouth with his. Telltale rigidity heralded her release, even as she bit his lip, and her spectacular contractions tempted him beyond reason. Without warning, the fully loaded cannon in his crotch fired a violent fusillade, and his gut clenched repeatedly from the force of his climax.

  For a long while, Jason simply held Alex, and she hugged him, in turn. Apologies and explanations swirled in his brain, when it dawned on him that he had just accosted a highborn woman of character, but as he attempted to retreat, she squeezed him.

  “No.” She nuzzled him “Please, do not leave me, as I would savor our glorious intimacy.”

  “Enjoyed yourself, did you?” He chuckled.

  “Yes.” With a flirty giggle, she placed a chaste but inexpressibly tender kiss on his cheek. “Reality is much better than my dreams or the hints and innuendos from the Brethren wives.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ah, it was good to have his Alex back. “You dream of me?”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “Every night, without fail, you visit my bed.”

  “Really?” And there was the characteristic aggression he relished. “What do we do in your dreams?”

  “We kiss.” Resting her head to his chest, she grabbed his wrist and resettled his palm to her bare breast. “And you touch me, like now. Sometimes, you run away, but I chase you.”

  “Do I ever chase you?” The woman could steal candy from a babe.

  “There is no need, as I am yours, Captain of my heart.” Alex framed his face and drew him to her, but he pulled up short when he spied tears in her blue eyes. “And I am so sorry I disappointed you. I offer you my solemn vow, as a lady, that I will never again keep secrets from you.”

  “I believe you, love.” Comforting warmth soothed his nerves and his pride, as Jason nipped her nose. “And I owe you an apology, as I should not have been so cross.”

  “Then I am truly forgiven?” she inquired in a small voice.

  “It is blood under the bridge, sweetheart.” Jason peered at the stain manifesting the proof of his desire and the limits to which Lady Seymour had pushed him, and he had yet to bed her. Had he thought her dangerous? “Now I should ride into town and fetch our dinner.”

  And perhaps the cool evening air would chill his other appetite, which had grown by epic proportions and had nothing to do with food.

  #

  Monday morning, Alex idled at the stoop, humming a frisky little ditty and tapping her foot in rhythm, and fixed her gaze on the end of the gravel drive, as she awaited Molly’s arrival with baited breath. How she wished she could share the truth of her situation, as Alex was bursting with joy.

  The captain of her heart had departed for the shipyard, after she had cooked a delicious and substantial breakfast with nary a mishap. And to her inexpressible delight, her knight had lauded her efforts with a soul-stealing kiss that warmed her to her toes. At last, their troubles seemed behind them, and now she wished to celebrate another victory.

  Given her extensive lessons on attracting the stronger but not so astute sex, and subsequent success with Jason, Alex envisioned all manner of possibilities for Molly’s future with Mr. Penniman. “Perhaps we should plan a double wedding?”

  Closing the door, she assessed the cottage. After washing, drying, and stowing the dishes, Alex wiped the stove and table clean. Had she checked the barrel? When she noted the depleted supply, she dusted her hands and exited the house.

  At the single stall stable, she collected the shoulder yoke and two buckets. In minutes, she pumped water from the well into the pails, attached them to the ropes, bent and shrugged into the yoke, and slowly returned to the cottage. It required an awkward use of her dancing skills to negotiate the front entry without spilling a drop, but she managed, much to her relief.

  Once she had filled the barrel, Alex returned the yoke to the stable and then gathered wood. When she opened the door, she discovered the charwoman standing in the great room.

  “Molly, I am so glad you have, at last, arrived.” Alex stacked the logs beside the hearth. “Do tell, how did it go with your beau?”

  “I never should have burdened you with my troubles.” The cook-maid doffed her coat, bonnet, gloves, and boots and stored them by the front door. “And Cap’n does not pay me to engage in gossip.”

  “My dear friend, are you all right?” As Molly turned, Alex gasped. “Oh, no. What happened?”

  “Nothing of consequence.” She shrugged. “And I should complete my chores for the day.”

  “Molly, I know well the face you sport, as I have spent the past month behind a similar expression, so I recognize the signs of disappointment and heartbreak.” Trepidation traipsed her spine, as Alex escorted the charwoman to the table and pulled out a chair. “Sit, and spare no detail, as I should make a pot of tea.”

  “But my work—”

  “—Can wait.” Alex lit the stove, poured water into the kettle and set it on the range, and then scooped two spoons of tealeaves into the chipped porcelain teapot. “Did your Mr. Penniman visit you on Sunday?”

  Molly nodded once.

  “Did you follow my advice, to the letter?” Alex resituated the empty chair so she could perch beside her friend. “And did you wear the gown I gave you?”

  Molly dipped her chin.

  She searched her mind for the hiccup in her plan. Given the inherent naïveté of the backwater population, Alex’s strategy should have landed the stablemaster with little if any difficulty, as he was no match for a lady of means and education. “Then what went wrong?”

  “Oh, Alex.” Molly emitted a half-sob. “It was horrible.” And then she burst into tears.

  The water in the kettle boiled, and Alex stood and retrieved a towel. After filling the teapot, she closed the lid. Then she drew two cups from the open shelf, along with two napkins from a drawer, grabbed the teapot, and carried everything to the table. As Molly wept, Alex set the table and poured the tea.

  “Feeling better?” With a napkin, she daubed Molly’s cheeks. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

  “Well, nothing went as planned, even though I adhered to your instructions.” Molly made a startling blare, when she blew her nose on the napkin. “According to my Tom, men do not marry loose women, as he called me. He said my behavior was shameful, the gown was indecent, and he accused me of cavorting with unscrupulous ladies.”

  “I beg your pardon?” In that instant, Alex wondered whether or not Jason kept a bottle of brandy in the cottage, as she needed a drink. “He dared call me an unscrupulous lady?”

  “Not exactly.” Molly sniffed. “Tom does not know you.”

  “That may be, but he insulted me, however indirectly.” Alex folded her arms and humphed. “I am offended, just the same. And that dress is all the rage in London.”

  “But we live in Plymouth, not London.” Sporting a pained expression, the charwoman bit her lip and sighed. “And I am no grand lady, as are you. When I loved him with my eyes, as you showed me, he thought I suffered some sort of seizure. I am a simple country girl, and perhaps that is what Tom wan
ts. Never should I have tried to be someone I am not.”

  Molly’s words struck Alex as a bucket of water in the face, as the maid’s predicament mirrored Alex’s situation. Had Jason not reminded her on occasions too numerous to count that he was not to the manor born? Other than his recent commission and knighthood with the Brethren, he held no titles, and never had he referred to himself as Sir Collingwood. What if he preferred a bride of similar station? Was that why he had not proposed?

  “Oh, Molly. I fear I have erred grossly on two fronts, and I will never forgive myself if I have cost you the attentions of Mr. Penniman.” Alex mulled her position and the possibilities. “And I should summon the coach and depart for the city, at once.”

  “I do not follow.” Molly blinked. “And why should you leave? Have I done something wrong?”

  “No. But I have done you wrong, and I vow to make amends.” Alex clasped hands with Molly. “Forget everything I told you, as you are a charming young woman, in your own right. And never should you mask your true nature to attract a man, as you cannot build a future on a foundation of lies. But I want you to keep the gown, as it suits you.”

  “But what of you and Cap’n?” Molly squeezed Alex’s fingers. “I know you are not siblings.”

  “Excuse me?” Alex averted her stare, as it unnerved her that Molly had guessed the truth. “I know not—”

  “I swear I will never tell a soul.” With another gentle wrench of Alex’s fingers, Molly said, “I confided in you. Will you not vouchsafe the same?”

  For several seconds, Alex pondered Molly’s request. How she wished her sisters were within reach, as she needed their wise counsel. Given she had not apprised them of her destination, it was too late to divulge her secrets, and she desperately needed to talk to someone.

  “You are correct, in that I am not what I have claimed.” In minutes, Alex disclosed her identity, the length of Jason’s courtship, the plot involving Lance and Cara, and the ensuing disagreement with her captain, which had led to the spontaneous journey to Plymouth. “I must face the fact that I may not be the woman Jason desires. If I must alter my character to garner a proposal, then I am not the wife for Jason, as much as it pains me to admit it.”