“What is that supposed to mean?” Jason inclined his head.
“You are a wise man, though you have done your best to convince me otherwise, so figure it out for yourself, sir.” Shielded in anger mixed with despair, Alex unfastened the lone button of her robe. “I should warn you that I sleep in the nude, as I find nightgowns altogether confining and uncomfortable, at this stage in my pregnancy, so you should avert your gaze, given my rotundness offends you.”
“I beg your pardon?” He settled hands on hips and shifted his weight. “When did I ever make such a callous statement?”
“Did you or did you not comment on my size, when you first arrived?” With a deep breath, she steeled herself for his derision and dropped her robe to the floor. Then she drew back the blankets, fluffed a mountain of pillows, and enacted the wonky exercise required to recline in bed.
“Alex, I admit I am, at times, an ignorant arse, and I regret my thoughtless comment, but I plead temporary insanity, as your condition was a deuced shock.” After doffing his coat and waistcoat, he untied his cravat and flung the linen swath across the back of a chair. Then Jason sat and tugged off his boots. When he unhooked his breeches, she closed her eyes. “All right, where is the rapier retort? What happened to my fiery society miss? You know, the brazen spitfire who followed me to Plymouth?”
“You destroyed her.” The mattress dipped, dislodging her pillow supports, and she rolled to the side, into Jason’s arms. Hovering close, with their noses mere inches apart, he hugged her. “I am all that remains, sir.”
“Will you stop addressing me so formally?” As she tried to resituate herself, he held her firm. “And what are you about, with the pile of cushions, as you cannot be comfortable? Is this your way of erecting additional barriers between us?”
“I need not add to our troubles, sir. But my elevated position is the only posture that affords a measure of relief that I may sleep, as our babes are restless.” It was then she realized her husband had deliberately baited her. “And I show you that deference which is owed to a husband, as I have been bred to obey.”
“How many times must I remind you I was not to the manor born?” Jason brushed his lips to hers. “As you so correctly pointed out in Plymouth, I am but a low-born sailor. I never attended Eton or university, thus my education took place above and below decks, courtesy of the Royal Navy, and I am quite proud of my history, as I have no use for titles or such foppery.”
“Are you finished?” She moaned, as he kissed her again.
“No.” With a fistful of covers, he drew the sheet to her chin. “How can I help you, love? There must be a more relaxed station. Will you not lean on me?”
“I would, but then I could not rest when you leave me—and you will leave me.” How Alex needed his strength, but she had trusted him once, and he had disappointed her. “And I would not inconvenience you.”
“Darling, you are never an inconvenience, and I have no intention of leaving your side, unless duty calls.” He splayed a hand protectively over her belly. The babes kicked, and his eyes grew wide. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. Your children are most active at night.” She smiled at his countenance of inexpressible wonder. “But I thought you would return to London, after installing me at Stratfield Manor.”
“Installing you?” Jason blanched, and she could not help but giggle. “Sweetheart, you are my wife, not some contracted heir maker. Bloody hell, but the peerage infests your mind with such revolting notions.”
“Then you intend to reside with me?” All right, she was a vast deal more than relieved that he would not abandon her to the country, yet Alex knew not what to expect of her husband.
“You really think the worst of me, do you not?” How wounded he appeared, as he slipped his arm about her shoulders. “And who could blame you, given my abominable treatment. My lovely bride, I know I hurt you. If I could go back in time, to that awful day in Plymouth, know that the outcome would have been quite the opposite, as I should have married you. But now we are wed, and your honor is restored. Let go your anger and make the best of our situation.”
“Are you serious? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” She had almost fallen for him—almost. “It will take more than pretty words and easy manners to resolve our problems, sir.”
“I do not suppose we can straighten out our difficulties in a single conversation, dearest.” Jason shuffled the pillows and encouraged her to recline on her side, with her belly nestled in a cushion he had placed with efficiency and her head resting on his shoulder. “I ask for a chance, Alex. Give me the opportunity to redeem myself, nothing more.”
“But you ask so much.” She pressed her palm to his muscled chest. “And I know not if I can survive another disappointment. I must consider my babes—”
“Our babes.” As was his way, he raked his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp.
Memories, bits of the past flooded her consciousness, and Alex sniffed, as she revisited cherished moments from their courtship and her time in Plymouth. Soon, the tears flowed, as she mourned the fanciful dreams she had coveted since they met two years ago.
“Do not cry, darling.” He cradled her head, and she sobbed without restraint.
“I weep not for you.” In truth, Alex lamented the man she had thought Jason had been, and it had almost killed her to discover he was not her knight in shining armor.
“Of course not.” Still, he held her.
“I grieve what might have been.” And what grand aspirations she had envisioned.
“Alex, I know we begin our life under inauspicious circumstances, and I understand that I failed you.” He could not possibly comprehend what he had done to her. “Please, do not turn me away.”
For several seconds, she pondered his request, as his heartbeat lulled her into a relaxed state. Although she would deny it should her husband inquire, she desperately needed him—the man of honor she had pursued to Plymouth, not the blackguard who left her alone, unwed, and pregnant. And while she had heaped a boatload of hellfire and brimstone on his imaginary head during those six months he was at sea, part of her celebrated his return, as he owned her heart, body, and soul, much to her chagrin.
“Are you sincere in your desire to set things right between us?” It was a question he had posed, the day she had arrived at the small rented cottage.
“I will do anything to restore your faith in me.” Another mirror response, and it cut like the sharpest knife, as she longed to believe him. “Tell me what you would have of me, and you shall have it.”
“You must earn the chance you seek, but I know not what I require, as I hardly know myself, any more.” In that moment, she dried her eyes and peered at him. “I am lost, Jason.”
“Beautiful Alex, allow me to help you find yourself again.” And then he tipped her chin and covered her mouth with his.
#
“I will always be here, Alex. While I know you remain angry with me, you must understand that I acted in the best interest of your children. I am still your brother, and I love you.” Damian sighed, in a mournful exhalation she felt all the way to her marrow. “If you ever need me, you know how to reach me.”
Alex stiffened her spine and faced forward, as she refused to look at Damian. Yes, she was furious with him for forcing her to wed, because she considered his action a bitter betrayal, but she feared she would collapse into a fit of tears if she met his gaze, as he had been her staunchest defender for as long as she could remember. How much heartbreak could one woman withstand?
“Are you ready, my dear?” Jason handed her into the traveling coach. “We have a full day ahead of us.”
“For the last time, must we journey to Stratfield now?” As she glanced at the graceful equipage, Alex blanched. “My stomach is rather fragile, and—”
“If you have your way, we will never leave Penhurst, so what is the difference, whether now or later?” When she settled her skirts and sank into the squabs in the middle of
the bench, he frowned. “Will you scoot to one side, please?”
“You wish to share a seat?” Alex gulped at the prospect, because the morning malaise might necessitate a quick exit. “Jason, you should not—”
“Never mind.” Without ceremony, her husband plopped beside her, turned, and drew her into his lap. “There. Surely we shall pass a far more enjoyable trip so comfortably situated.”
“Do you intend to force your attentions on my person for the duration of our travels?” Alex wiggled her hips and then froze, when her errant knight hissed.
“Easy, love, as you tempt me beyond reason.” With a flirty nip of her ear, he chuckled and squeezed her thigh. “And in response to your question, the answer is no. I intend to force my attentions on your person for the duration of our marriage, as I count that state-sanctioned right chief among the perks of my newfound status as your lord and master.”
“Lord and master, indeed.” And then she noted the telltale bulge of his erection, and it dawned on her that he spoke the truth. He wanted her. That seemingly insignificant bit of information worked on Alex in a manner she could not have anticipated, and she involuntarily clenched the muscles between her legs. “Jason, I swear I am not trying to be difficult. My last carriage ride did not end so well, and I would spare you the unpleasantness.”
“My dear wife, I manage a boatload of surly sailors for a living.” Jason kissed her forehead. “I promise, whatever you throw at me, I can handle it.”
Famous last words.
And so Alex rested her head on his shoulder and wept softly, as they passed through the gates of Penhurst Castle, leaving behind all that was familiar and comforting for—what, she knew not. Resolved to persevere, she closed her eyes and drifted into dreamland.
The sun was low in the western sky when Alex woke, hours later, cursed with the most prominent malady in her cadre of pregnancy plagues. At some point, Jason had shifted and propped in the corner, but he held her close in his lap. He dozed peacefully, unaware of the danger lurking in his midst, and she reconsidered disturbing him—just as a tidal wave of nausea struck her. As bile rose in her throat, the world spun out of control.
“Jason, wake up.” With a violent shake, she roused him. “Hurry.”
“What is it, darling?” He yawned and stretched.
“Stop the coach, as I fear I am going to—” To her utter mortification, Alex revisited the large breakfast she had enjoyed at Penhurst, on his coat.
“Good God, my wife erupts.” Jason lowered the window, just as she surrendered to another wicked paroxysm. Then he pounded a fist to the ceiling. “Hoi! Hold Hard. Mrs. Collingwood is ill.”
The coach came to an abrupt halt, and she would have fallen to the floor, had her husband not held her firmly in his grip. Jason lifted her in his arms and kicked open the door. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Alex collapsed on her hands and knees and heaved. Again and again, she retched, and to her inexpressible amazement, her fledgling spouse provided unshakeable support, for which she was grateful, as she needed his kindness just then.
When pins slipped from her coiffure, threating to place her long locks in the line of fire, her captain knelt beside her and pulled back her hair. “Let me help you, love. Just rest against me, relax, and do not fight it.”
“I think it has passed—” And then she vomited, with the driver and footmen as witnesses, in a repeat performance of monumental embarrassment.
“Take your time, sweetheart.” Jason rubbed her shoulders and along her spine. “We are in no hurry.”
“Captain Collingwood, would her ladyship like a drink of water?” The driver offered a military-styled canteen. “We have plenty, and we are happy to share.”
“Thank you.” After helping Alex stand upright, her husband shrugged from his spoiled coat and fetched the canteen. “How is your constitution, darling?”
“Better.” She swayed, and Jason rose to the rescue.
“Easy, Alex.” He wet a handkerchief, wiped her face, and then pressed the linen to the back of her neck. “There is no rush, and we will resume our journey when you are ready.”
“Oh, that feels delightful.” How she longed for her comfortable bed and an uninterrupted, rejuvenating nap. “But I do not think I can go much further, as I am exhausted.”
“No worries, love.” He held the canteen to her lips. “Here, drink some water, but take small sips, else it will come up as fast as you swallow it.”
“How do you know so much about morning sickness?” Of course, her particular brand of the ailment paid no heed to the hour of the day, as the queasiness struck her without prejudice.
“It is not so dissimilar from the illness that strikes most landlubbers during their maiden sea voyage.” In a flash, Jason bent and swept her into his arms. “The footmen cleaned the coach, so we are good to resume or travels.” To the coachman, her captain said, “Keep your team at a trot, and stop at the first inn, as we shall take a room and break our journey for the night.”
“Aye, sir.” The driver nodded. “And I will steer toward the verge, for the smoothest ride possible, given the lane has large ruts.”
Reclining in the squabs, Alex smoothed her skirts and sighed, as her fragile belly had quieted. But just as she balanced on the bench, her curious spouse lifted her to his lap. “Jason, I am quite capable of sitting on my own.”
“I am well aware of your independent streak, sweetheart, as we have met on occasions too numerous to count.” He favored her with a sweet kiss, which she deemed far too brief. “But I missed you terribly, these past six months, so indulge me. I wish to hold you.”
“You thought of me?” Alex cursed herself in silence, as she sounded bloody interested.
“Every minute we were apart.” Cupping her cheek, he frowned. “And as I explained last night, I know I hurt you. While our problems will not resolve themselves in a mere sennight, I ask only for a chance to make amends, that you might believe in me, again.”
“You promised not to pressure me, yet you already break your vow.” And Jason terrified her, because he possessed the power to destroy what little remained of her. “Do you not comprehend that the chance you seek requires a measure of hope for success, on my part?”
“And you are afraid to invest the minutest amount of faith in me?” Why had he appeared the injured party, when he had wronged her? “Am I not worth the risk?”
“I asked the same of you, in some fashion, last January, in Plymouth.” Alex sniffed and peered out the window. “We both know how that turned out.”
“So you refuse me?” Jason replied in a morbid tone.
“On the contrary, sir.” With all the determination she could muster, and that was not saying much, in light of her near-complete devastation, she met his stare. “The chance is yours to win or lose, with no guarantee of cooperation or success, as you have no right to make such demands.”
“May I inquire why my honorable request is met with such unfriendly terms?” In that moment, he pressed his palm to her belly.
“When I ventured to Plymouth, I did so with a noble purpose, a sincere desire to set things right between us, with no assurances.” For the umpteenth time, visions of those most happy days spent in the cottage evoked a plaintive cry. “You posed your challenge, conditions you devised as a means of punishment for my sin of omission, and I think it safe to say I surpassed your requisites. And you know how you rewarded my efforts.”
“And it is your turn to mete retribution?” He arched a brow.
“No, as I harbor no such spurious motives.” Alex wiped a stray tear. “I act in the interest of self-preservation and nothing more. What you ask, given our history, I simply cannot give you, at least, not now. My children take priority.”
“All right. It will not be my first voyage into unfamiliar and unwelcome waters.” Then Jason grasped the hair at the nape of her neck and kissed her hard. “Mark my words, I will win you back.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Darling, wake up.” Jason nu
zzled Alex’s temple, as she slept in his lap. “We are home, sweetheart.”
Studying her in deep slumber had fast become one of his most treasured pastimes, as he could pretend, if only for a moment, that their situation was as it had once existed between them. In light of the conditions by which he pursued reconciliation, he had lingered in a chasm of desolation in the wee hours of the morning, until a brilliant plan formed in his brain.
How he longed for his Alex, the brazen young debutante who had flirted with him, propriety be damned, the seductive sylph who had lured him to bed with come-hither stares and take-me smiles, and the shameless siren who had lusted after him every bit as much as he had her. Yet he could not turn back the clock.
But what naval man possessed a bounty of knowledge regarding pregnant, scorned women? And then he recalled Damian’s advice, which Jason had actually discounted, and it had occurred to him that his newfound family featured incomparable resources. Trevor, Everett, and Dirk were fathers, and each had stumbled on their path to the altar.
“Wake up, my lady wife.” With a renewed sense of purpose, he nudged her nose with his, as the coach halted at the entrance to his humble estate. “Alex, we have arrived.”
At last, she stirred. With a healthy stretch and a yawn, she blinked. “Are we at Stratfield, already?”
“You dozed for the past four hours, love.” The footman opened the door, and Jason handed her to the graveled drive. “How fares your belly?”
“Much better, thank you. The dry toast worked wonders.” And then she gazed on their country home. “So this is Stratfield Manor? How many bedrooms are there?”
“Indeed, it is our primary residence,” Jason stated with pride. “And it has sixteen private chambers, rather small by your usual standards.”
Made of red brick, with mullioned windows across the face, the building boasted the modest vernacular-Baroque tradition. The grand structure, the largest and most sumptuous he had ever owned, situated amid a copse of oaks trees. The edifice featured an upturned frieze beneath an inviting double-door entrance pediment, all of which Jason had favored the moment he had seen it.
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