“That is so unfair, in light of your efforts, which I think so very brave.” Molly frowned and sipped her tea. “By the way, this is delicious, but you should no longer assist with my chores, as you are a fine lady of rank, and I am far beneath your station.”
“No small thanks to you, as you taught me to brew tea.” Alex reclined in her chair and drained her cup. “And I deem your acquaintance priceless, dear friend, as you have made me a better person. Caroline once said that polite society is anything but polite, and I did not quite comprehend her meaning, at the time. But one of the perks of being the daughter of a duke is I can bend the dictates of feminine decorum, to a degree, without serious repercussions, and no one determines my alliances, so hell will freeze before I cede your fellowship.”
“Then promise you will not leave, at least, not yet.” Molly refilled their cups. “As I have so enjoyed your visit. And I believe Cap’n cares for you. Would you give up your fight before the battle is won?”
“No, as I am no coward.” In silence, Alex calculated the days, as she would not risk discovery and a forced marriage, which she deemed a fate worse than death. “All right. I will stay a few more days—a sennight, at most. But then I must return home.”
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“What a deuced dilemma.” Alex stood before the stove, stirring something in a pot. “However am I to make sense of this mess?”
Jason closed the door quietly and tiptoed until his lady was within striking distance. Without warning, he slipped his arm about her waist, rotated her to face him, and kissed her hard and fast. “Perhaps I can be of service?”
“Oh, you horrible man.” Her pitiful attempt at reproach fooled him not, in light of her arresting smile and glowing countenance. “You startled me.”
“That was the plan, love.” He nipped her nose and then set her at arm’s length, as he untied his cravat. “So what troubles you?”
“Well, if you are sincere in your request, I tried to help Molly with her beau, but nothing went as planned.” She returned her attention to the pot, as he shrugged from his greatcoat and frock. “Now I am unsure how to correct the damage in her relationship with Mr. Penniman.”
At the washstand, he flinched. “Alex, stay out of Molly’s affairs.”
“But I have to make things right, after—”
“No.” He tossed the towel into the basin and rested hands on hips. “Given your last disastrous turn at matchmaking, I will not allow you to meddle in my maid’s concerns, as I rely on her to run this house.”
“But—”
“I said no, and I meant it.” The mere thought of his lady working her magic on the country boys gave Jason collywobbles. “If you interfere in her dealings with Tom, I will put you over my knee and heat your posterior, so not another word about it. Now, I am starved, so what is for dinner, as it smells delicious?”
“Filet of turbot with lobster sauce, boiled carrots, and fresh Bath buns.” Alex pouted, and he longed to suckle her bottom lip. “Have a seat at the table, and I will serve you.”
“I like the sound of that.” When his society miss settled his plate before him, he scrutinized the fare. In the interest of self-preservation, after her initial catastrophic gastric concoction, he approached every successive meal with a healthy does of caution. To his utter amazement, Alex had managed to surprise him again. “This is superb, darling. You have outdone yourself.”
“I am glad you like it,” she murmured, as she shuffled a carrot in circles.
Wait a minute. He paid his pampered miss a compliment, and she scarcely noted it. No gloating, innuendos, or double-entendres? “So did you have a pleasant day?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“And you cleaned my shirts?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Might I splay you on the sideboard?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“As I should much prefer to feast on the bounty between your legs.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Alex.” Jason pounded his fist on the table.
“What?” She blinked and dropped her fork. “Is something wrong?”
“May I have a glass of ale?” he inquired, with a smile.
“Of course.” She jumped to her feet. “How could I have been so forgetful, as I know you take ale with your dinner?”
It touched him that she showed genuine concern for his welfare. And when he challenged her to assume partial responsibility for Molly’s chores, never had he presumed she would fulfill her part of the bargain with such gusto. In her own way, she had won him all over again.
Yet he could not wed her.
At her young age, if he made Alex a war widow, she would be destined to spend her life as a plaything for the rich, passed about as a favored toy. London society fretted not for her rank and connections, when it came to a failed marriage, regardless of the circumstances. And he cared for Lady Seymour too much to condemn her to an empty existence as another man’s mistress, subject to the ton’s derision and censure for the capriciousness of fate.
“Jason, might I ask you a question?” Alex handed him the glass of ale and returned to her seat.
“Anything, love.” But he wondered if they could enter into an arrangement, which would enable her to continue her life sans the stigma of widowhood, should he meet his demise at sea, while binding them, should he survive.
“Do most men not appreciate bold women?” she inquired in a small voice.
“In what capacity?” He surmised her query had everything to do with Molly and the stablemaster.
“I am uncertain.” Alex shrugged. “As a wife, I suppose.”
“In truth, no.” On the few occasions he had dealt with Penniman, Jason presumed the lad would prefer Molly’s quiet, unassuming disposition. “I would wager most men seek not a spirited bride, rather, they prefer the opposite.”
Of course, he neglected to mention that he tended toward the latter, when it came to her.
“Oh.” Was it his imagination, or had she appeared crestfallen?
In deafening silence they dined, until Jason pushed back his chair, stood, and stretched. “That turbot was inspiring, my lady. Believe I shall read the newest edition of the Mariner’s Mirror.”
“Would you mind doing so in your bedchamber, as I wish to complete my kitchen chores and retire early.” Alex collected and stacked the dirty dishes. “And Molly wishes to teach me how to jar preserves, tomorrow.”
“By your leave.” For a minute, Jason fingered the ring in his waistcoat pocket. Should he propose? “Good night, Alex.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Three days later, Alex still fought uncharacteristic and unwelcome tears. Exhausted, she had spent the past few nights tossing and turning, after Jason’s unspecified but implied preference for demure women. Emitting a plaintive sob, she washed the breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen, as she awaited Molly’s arrival.
A dull ache had taken residence deep in her chest, and she struggled to breathe. At one point, she feared she might swoon, so she sat by the window, after stowing the last of the plates. Resting her elbows atop the table, Alex cupped her chin in her palms and sighed. “I will not cry.”
Now she understood Cara’s reticence regarding Lance’s first prosaic proposal, and why the elder Douglas sibling had refused his offer of marriage. It was not until Lance had convinced Cara of his love that she had accepted him. Likewise, as Jason owned Alex’s heart, she would settle for no less than the same commitment, on his part.
“Alex, are you unwell?” Molly asked, as she stood in the doorway. “I called to you, but you did not answer.”
“Good morning, dear friend. And I am fine.” She wiped a wayward tear and mustered a smile, even as inside her something fractured. “What is our schedule for today?”
“We must clean the cottage from top to bottom.” Molly hung her outerwear on the wall peg and then retrieved the broom, mop, and bucket from the pantry, where she kept her supplies. “Although that is not so monumental a task, as you might think, given yo
ur maintenance in my absence. Should you ever require an occupation, you would make a fine charwoman.”
“I consider that high praise, coming from you.” At last, her dark spirits eased, and Alex giggled. “Shall we commence the work? And you might mop his bedchamber, while I tend the great room, as I swept his quarters after he departed for the yard.”
“Alex, you really must not take so much upon yourself, else I will have to ask Cap’n to cut my pay in half. And I brought you a bottle of my vanilla water, as you may favor it.” Molly shrieked. “You folded and put away his clothes, too?”
“Yes. And thank you for the thoughtful gesture, but now you must accept my perfume, in fair trade.” Alex picked up both rugs and relocated the furniture, so she could complete a thorough job. “And have you spoken with Tom?”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Molly abandoned her mop and charged into the great room. “Put down the broom, as I require your full attention.”
“What happened?” Alex ceased her drudgery and plopped on the sofa. “You must tell me everything.”
“Yesterday, as I walked home, I passed Tom on the road. At first, I bowed my head in shame.” Molly bounced beside Alex. “But then I recalled your advice, and how we can’t leave everything to chance, which I weighed with your suggestion to be myself, so I greeted him in my usual tone.”
“And?” Alex wound tight as a clock spring.
“He acknowledged my presence but said nothing.” Molly clasped Alex’s hands. “And then I thought to myself, ‘What would Alex do?’”
“Yes—and?” Alex squeezed the cook-maid’s fingers.
“So I asked him how he fared, and he inquired after the same.” The charwoman inhaled and then blurted, “I apologized for my disagreeable behavior, and he asked permission to visit me on Sunday. Is that not wonderful news? I am so hopeful.”
“It is indeed cause for celebration, and hope is always a good thing.” And now Alex could retreat to London and nurse her injured pride. “Perhaps you can show me how to make a batch of Shrewsbury cakes, and we can have tea, as an impromptu feast.”
“That is an excellent idea.” Molly bit her lip and inclined her head. “And what of you and Cap’n? Has he proposed?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“As that was my primary purpose in traveling to Plymouth, I have failed.” Alex stood and dusted her dress. “But I cannot regret the journey, as I met you, and I have learned so many new things. And you must promise to write, as I will bring you to London, as my guest.”
“You sound as if you have surrendered.” The cook-maid clutched her hands to her chest. “But you must not yield, as I have seen how Cap’n looks at you, which is how I knew you were not related, as my brother never admires me in that way. Cap’n holds you in great esteem.”
“While I believe Jason is fond of me, I am no longer assured of his regard. My sisters were correct, in that I should not have rushed the situation, but I love him, so I must follow my heart.” She retrieved the broom and sought consolation in her chore. “But if I must pretend to be something other than myself in order to win him, then he is not for me.”
And so Alex gave herself to her toils, laboring in concert with Molly, and found refuge therein. That afternoon, she learned how to cook and jar preserves. And then she baked four pans of Shrewsbury cakes, which the charwoman proclaimed the finest she had ever tasted. With a small portion of bundled cakes, Molly departed for home. Only then had Alex filled the tub, which persisted as her favorite task, as it signaled the end of her work, and she would soon after sink into a hot bath.
Later, she sat on the sofa and braided her hair, which she had just finished when Jason strolled into the cottage. “Good evening, Captain of my heart.”
“Lady Alex, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He tossed his greatcoat over the chair and then stopped to kiss the top of her head. “How was your day?”
“Productive.” The ease with which they usually conversed seemed strained to her, and she searched for a saucy response to rouse his humor. Instead, cold emptiness pervaded her senses, so she stood and sidestepped the object of her affection. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” He frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Everything is fine.” As had become their routine, while she served dinner, Jason steered for the washstand, and they met at the table. “I made a lovely ragout of beef, with a side of macaroni and cheese, and for dessert I baked Shrewsbury cakes.”
“My compliments to the chef.” As he shoveled an impressive mouthful, he hummed his appreciation. “May I admit something, without fear of reprisal?”
“Of course.” Alex bolstered her defenses, as she prepared for rejection. Had he, at last, mustered sufficient courage to admit the truth? Biting her tongue, she prayed for strength and vowed not to embarrass herself. “What did you wish to impart?”
“When you showed up at my doorstep, and I issued my challenge, never had I thought you capable of the task.” Grasping her hand, Jason pressed his lips to her knuckles, and she shivered. “You would think I should have learned not to underestimate you, by now, love.”
“Praise, indeed.” Prior to their disagreement, such words would have brought her inexpressible elation, but Alex celebrated no victory.
The remainder of their meal passed in uncomfortable silence. Once her captain had cleaned his plate and wolfed down three cakes, he stretched his arms over his head. As she collected the dishes, she leaned to retrieve his napkin, and Jason caught her about the waist.
He sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
“I beg your pardon?” Puzzled, she dropped the cloth. “Can you describe it?”
“What a sweet aroma.” In the wake of a deep inhale, he wrenched her close and thrust his nose into the curve of her neck, and she gasped. “Hmm. It is you.”
“Oh, that.” She swallowed hard, as he nuzzled her, and despite her reservations, a sparkle of hope glimmered. “Molly gifted me a bottle of her vanilla water. It is quite different from my usual scent.”
“It suits you.” When he licked her throat, her knees buckled, and he drew her into his lap. “And you taste good, too.”
“Jason, I do not think we should—” In a flash, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his, and her mind blanked. Without thought or care for the consequences, Alex twined her fingers in his hair and joined the fray, as she ached to kiss her captain.
The world as she knew it tilted on end, and the little cottage yielded to a fantastical illusion, featuring a flirty chorus of mystical fairies and arrow-throwing chubby cherubs. Molten heat poured through her veins, and desire simmered beneath her flesh. As though he had read her thoughts, her captain kneaded her breast, and she moaned in pleasure.
Was it possible that her conclusions were hastily drawn? Had she leapt to unsupported deductions woven from whole cloth? Could it be possible Jason intended to propose, else why would he seduce her?
In that instant, armed with passion, Alex charged the fore. When Jason shifted to loosen her bodice, she walked her fingers to his crotch and delighted in his arousal. How she yearned to examine what she had only caressed through his breeches, as that particular aspect of his anatomy quite fascinated her.
Driven by the now familiar hunger, which had long since ceased frightening her, she broke their kiss, arched her back, and shoved his head to the one place she most wanted his attention. For a couple of seconds, Jason suckled hard on her nipple, and Alex relaxed and sighed.
But when he halted and met her gaze, she flinched. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” For a while, he simply stared at her. Then he furrowed his brow and asked, “Do you wish to know me, as I know you?”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, though she knew not what his proposition entailed.
“If you change your mind, you need only indicate your preference, and I will abide your choice.” Jason fumbled with the hooks at his waist, clutched her wrist, and slipped her hand inside
his breeches. At her first touch of his miracle of flesh, he groaned and rested his forehead to hers. “You have no idea how many nights I have dreamed of you, like this.”
“You dream of me?” In that moment, her heart sang.
“Aye.” He closed his eyes when she squeezed him. “I have worshipped you for an eternity, it seems.”
“Have I hurt you?” Alex stilled. “I know not what to do for you.”
“No, love.” Baring his teeth, he hissed. “I suffer the same hunger that plagues you.”
“Will you show me how to please you?” She nibbled playfully on his bottom lip and thrilled when his fingers closed over hers, and he schooled her in an urgent rhythm. Tension built, spiraling ever higher, the shot fired, and Alex bolted.
As their tongues met and dueled, Jason hiked her skirt, inched his palm along the sensitive inner side of her thigh, and she dropped her knees wide in unspoken welcome. To her unutterable delight mixed with relief, he accepted her summons.
“Ah, my Alex is wet for me.” And then her captain launched a full-scale assault on her faculties, as he took the helm and steered her into heretofore-unknown erotic seas, and she would never complain.
Moving in concert, she stroked his length in time with the sweet havoc he wreaked at the apex of her thighs. With a sensuous symphony comprised of her pants and moans, interspersed with his grunts and groans, she floated on a cloud of resplendent euphoria. Until decadent spasms carried her into delicious oblivion, which was rudely interrupted when Jason dropped back his head, contorted his face, which well nigh scared her to death, vented an inhuman growl, and a hot, glutinous substance spattered her hand as she worked him.
“Jason?” Shocked by the unknown, Alex sat still and recalled a peculiar conversation with the Brethren wives, in regard to their respective spouses and their naughty habits.
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