Captain Of Her Heart

by Barbara Devlin

  “Should I close the door?” She cast him a shy smile. “Do you intend to make inappropriate advances?”

  “Yes.” He winked. “But I submit it is impossible for me to make inappropriate advances, as I am your husband and, therefore, licensed to sail your harbor, at will.”

  “Reprobate.” Her giggle belied the insult.

  “Have I ever pretended otherwise?” As he drew her into his embrace, she blushed. “You were unutterably captivating this morning, sweetheart.”

  “Something to remember me by.” How Jason longed for that glow with which Alex had always greeted him, but she remained locked in a dense, ever-present cocoon of reserve tinged with melancholia, which pervaded their every interaction. “And what will you do aboard ship, without my busy hands?”

  “Redevelop callouses.” Because the chair behind his desk would envelop them in a cloud of dust, and might not support their combined weight, he steered her toward the old sofa. He assumed a comfortable position and then slapped his thighs. “Have a seat, love.”

  “But the staff awaits, and—”

  “Please, darling.” He patted her bottom. “Allow me to bestow upon you an equally sweet recollection, that you may think of me, with fondness, while I am at sea.”

  Palpable hesitation invested her frame, and then she sidestepped his legs and settled into his lap. “Be quick, as you must depart before noon.”

  “You do know how to undermine a man’s confidence, Alex.” Still, Jason flicked up her skirts and initiated some naughty finger work, of his own. Of course, he had lied, in part, regarding the purposive nature of their interlude, as he sought to commit her awe-inspiring audial accompaniment to memory, which he would replay in his bunk aboard the Intrepid.

  A chorus of breathy sighs and half-smothered shrieks lauded his efforts, as he held Alex. And Jason longed to kiss his wife, but he refused to stifle her sultry moans, which he coveted as a priceless treasure. All too soon, she twined her fingers in his hair, yanked his head, and gave her scream of completion into his mouth. Hers was the most resplendent release he had ever witnessed.

  “May I make a confession without fear of reprisal?” His bride rested against his chest.

  “Of course.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  “I had worried we could hurt the babes with our questionable behavior.” She nuzzled him.

  “That is a sound, sensible conclusion, sweetheart.” He pulled down her skirt.

  Alex sat upright. “Then why are you laughing?”

  “Because I find you absolutely arresting.” With that, he scooted to the edge of the sofa. “Now, I must away.”

  “Have you any idea what your mission entails?” Alex stood, and he followed suit. “Did the admiral’s missive give you any expectation of the tenure?”

  “No, love.” Jason collected his belongings and offered his escort. “Now, see me to the coach.”

  Together, they navigated the hall, turned right at the foyer, and stepped into the sunlight from a cloudless sky. The staff formed a line, and he bade farewell to Gertie and Arnold. In the forecourt, he turned and slipped an arm about Alex.

  “Take care of yourself and my heirs.” He cupped her cheek. “I will not have my wife waning.”

  “Yes, sir.” She cast him a timid smile. “And you do the same.”

  “I will.” Conscious of the crowd gathered, Jason claimed a brief kiss and hopped into the coach. “Drive on.”

  The traveling equipage lurched forward, and he reclined in the squabs. The servants filed into the house, but his bride waved and remained on the graveled drive. The team picked up speed, after they completed the curve. For some reason he could not explain, he kept his gaze fixed on his lady. As the horses steered into the straightaway, he stuck his head out the window, just as Alex buried her face in her hands.

  “Hoi, hold hard.” Jason flung open the door before the coach came to a halt, and he leaped from the moving gig. Running at a full pace, he crossed the yard in mere seconds. “Alex.”

  She jerked, glanced at him, and held her arms wide. “Jason.”

  “Darling.” With care for the babes, he turned her to the side and hugged her tight. “Why the tears, love?”

  “Because you are leaving, and I know not when I shall see you again.” She wept and sobbed without restraint. “I am afraid.”

  “What do you mean, as I shall return, as soon as I complete my mission.” With his handkerchief, he dried her cheeks. “What have you to fear?”

  “I had thought you might prefer to remain in London.” Alex shivered and inhaled a shaky breath. “And the prospect of childbirth scares me.”

  “What could have possibly given you such a ridiculous notion?” He daubed her cute little nose.

  “Because you never stated otherwise.” A fresh spate of tears coursed her creamy complexion. “And most men of the ton abandon their pregnant wives to the country, while they seek divertissements elsewhere.”

  “Alex, look at me.” He tipped her chin and pinned her stare. “I am no man of the ton. And I plan to attend the birth of our babes, if I have to move heaven and earth to be here. I promise, I will be with you. Now tell me you believe me, love, as I need to hear it.”

  “I believe you.” She hiccupped.

  “Do you?” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Because I give you my word, as a nautionnier knight, I will come home, to you.”

  “All right.” And then his lady favored him with a glimpse of the old Alex, as she cast a smile that shimmered as sunlight on the ocean. Just as quick, she furrowed her brow, and the glow faded. “I miss you already.”

  “Oh, love.” Even though the coach had turned and reappeared in the forecourt, Jason cared not for propriety or prudence. Right then and there, he kissed his bride as a man just returned from an extended voyage. “I miss you, too.”

  “I have made you late.” Yet Alex clutched the lapels of his coat.

  “You may delay me, any time.” He claimed another soul-stealing kiss. “Are you recovered?”

  She simply nodded.

  It should have been easy to depart, as duty called. But something within him stirred, and Jason languished in bone-gnawing agony. No matter how hard he tried, he could not surrender his wife. For several minutes, he held her, until she sniffed and retreated.

  “I am sorry, Jason.” She shrugged. “The babes have made me a water pot.”

  “No apologies necessary, darling.” Retracing his earlier steps, he paused at the coach, brought her knuckles to his lips, stole one more kiss, and then patted her bottom. “Now go inside, my girl.”

  “Yes, sir.” She sketched a mock salute. “Please, be careful.”

  “Your wish is my command.” When she entered the house and closed the door, he returned to the coach and resumed his journey. But he noted a telltale silhouette in the drawing room window and could not help but chuckle. A strange weight blossomed in his chest, warmth suffused his muscles, and Jason grinned, as a revelation dawned. “Oh, Alex. You still care for me.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Thank you so much for rescheduling our appointment, Mr. Harper.” Alex smiled at the designer, as she opened the door to Jason’s domain. “This is my husband’s study, and I will pay double your usual fee if you can work your magic in a fortnight, and transform this disaster into a dream for my captain.”

  “I should be too happy to—” Mr. Harper blanched and readjusted his monocle. “Upon my word, but never have I seen the likes of this décor.”

  “Yes, it is a tad antiquated.” Wreck was more appropriate, as it was the last neglected chamber of the grand home, and not by accident. “The furnishings came with the estate.”

  “Do you mean to say Captain Collingwood actually purchased these items? They belong in a museum, as well as the refuse.” The decorator turned his nose to the centerpiece of the room. “Why is there a hole in the desk?”

  “The drawer collapsed. Oh, no. Do not—” Alex winced, as the poor man made the mistake o
f sitting in the chair, and a dust storm engulfed him. That particular trap she had reserved for Jason. “I am so sorry, Mr. Harper.”

  Alex tottered to his aid, as the designer shot to his feet, coughed, and wheezed. She brushed off his coat, and he blew his nose. Then he retrieved a small notepad from his pocket and borrowed the pen from the inkstand.

  “We must replace everything, your ladyship.” He sneezed, as he jotted a list. “What have you in mind?”

  “I wish to continue the mahogany trim and navy wall coverings, as that is Captain Collingwood’s favorite wood and color.” She tapped her finger to her chin and contemplated her change of heart, spurred by Jason’s promise. The improvements manifested an olive branch, of sorts. “And the desk must be hand-tooled and fit for a king, with a matching throne, in the Sheraton tradition, as I shall accept nothing less. And I should think two Hepplewhite chairs, facing the desk.”

  “What about a rendering of the Collingwood family coat of arms, which should hang over the fireplace?” Mr. Harper scratched his temple. “Have you an example?”

  “Yes.” Alex produced an old journal. “I found a drawing, when my staff removed my husband’s personal affects, in preparation for the renovation.”

  “This is perfect.” He scrutinized the sketch. “I know a local artist, and he is very skilled. If we offer him a bonus, he may be able to compose a suitable painting, in your time frame.”

  “Wonderful.” And then she bit her lip, as she pondered her next request, because she knew not how Jason would react to a certain item. “Perhaps you can recommend someone to create a small portrait, very tiny, on short notice. I am available for private sittings, as my husband is at sea.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Appleton will suffice. And what of the shelving?” The decorator grazed a ledge with his finger, the plank collapsed, knocking three additional boards to the floor, and he jumped. “We require four new bookcases.”

  “Can you include two special, wall-mounted displays, with glass doors?” Alex walked to an old trunk and lifted the lid. “My husband’s pride and joy is a collection of ancient spy glasses and compasses, which I would feature, as they are quite fascinating.”

  “And unusual.” He squatted and assessed the various items. “You know, we might acquire a Harrison chronometer, at auction, as a nice addition, given Captain Collingwood’s predilection for seafaring tools.”

  “I rely on you.” She nodded once and recalled Jason’s farewell, which brought telltale warmth to her cheeks, even now. “And I would exchange the sofa for a daybed, something substantial, as my husband possesses a robust stature.”

  “Very good, your ladyship. And what is the budget for the chronometer?” He arched a brow. “I should warn you, a Harrison could fetch a substantial sum.”

  “Spare no expense.” Alex folded her arms, as she nurtured the small amount of faith she had invested in her captain. “And I believe we are done, here. Shall we adjourn to the nursery, as I have an entirely different set of requirements for that room?”

  “Of course, your ladyship.” At the door, Mr. Harper paused, gave the study a final appraisal, and shuddered. “And I had thought I had seen it all.”

  “I understand.” Alex chuckled. “So when can you start?”

  “Given the magnitude of the transformation, I shall dispatch my men to begin the demolition, this afternoon.” The designer wiped his brow. “Then we should commence the reconstruction, first thing in the morning, with your approval.”

  “Please, do so.” As she climbed the stairs, she gazed at her bare hand and frowned. Jason had yet to gift her a wedding ring, and she had not mustered the nerve to broach the topic, but that was before her husband’s departure, when he had jumped from a moving coach to console her. And though she would never admit it aloud, Alex coveted hope. “As for the nursery, I would like everything done in blue and yellow.”

  “Would you not prefer a more neutral palette, in the event you carry a girl?” Mr. Harper furrowed his brow. “We can always add gender-specific tones, at a later date.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Without doubt, I bear boys, as they are far too rambunctious.”

  “As you wish, your ladyship.” The decorator laughed. “I know better than to argue with a woman in your condition, as my wife accurately predicted the sex of our three children, so blue and yellow is our theme.”

  When they entered the nursery, Alex was surprised to discover Molly, standing before the window, drying her eyes. The nanny attempted to conceal her tremulous state behind a rigid smile that had not fooled Alex, for a second.

  “Molly, are you all right?” She surveyed the surroundings, as if expecting to find Mr. Penniman.

  “Yes, your ladyship.” Molly sniffed. “I fear I may be catching a cold, nothing more.”

  “Mr. Harper, this is Miss Duckett, my nursemaid.” Alex eased into the large, overstuffed chair in the back corner. “Shall we discuss the décor?”

  As the designer comprised another list of purchases, Alex studied her nanny, as she suspected Molly was not ill. After another hour-long consultation, during which she selected fabrics for draperies and bed linens, she bade farewell to Mr. Harper.

  “Alex, despite my promise, I am no longer certain I can remain at Stratfield Manor.” Molly averted her stare and shuffled her feet. “Since Tom arrived, I find it difficult to tolerate his presence.”

  “But I thought you had no interest in Mr. Penniman?” Alex rested her heels on the ottoman. “And we rarely see him, as he resides with the stable hands.”

  “And yet he tempts me,” Molly whispered. “Do you understand my distress?”

  “More than you know.” Alex could have written a book on temptation, as her captain had enticed her, beyond reason. “But I cannot lose you, so tell me what I can do to alleviate your discomfit, as I will not relinquish you without a fight.”

  “Tom is smart, my lady.” Molly vented a plaintive cry. “No matter what I try, he wiggles his way into my heart and renders me a pile of mush. You must help me resist him.”

  “Are you sure that is what you want?” Alex revisited the most cherished memory of Jason, running to console her. It was his noble action that had inspired a kernel of faith, which she hoarded as a priceless gem. “You were very fond of Mr. Penniman, when you lived in Plymouth. Are you positive you do not welcome his attention?”

  “Tom can go to the devil.” Molly gasped and covered her mouth. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

  “No worries, dear friend.” Once again, Alex and Jason’s relationship seemed inexplicably intertwined with that of the nanny and the stablemaster. “But I must caution you not to act in haste, as such decisions may not be so easily undone.”

  #

  Three weeks later, in the wee hours just before dawn, Jason stood watch on the quarterdeck of the Intrepid and peered a-stern through the spyglass. A French corvette manifested a shadow on the horizon, and Blake, Damian, and Dalton had broken the line and heeled hard a-starboard to pursue the enemy ship.

  “Shall we join the fun, Cap’n?” Mr. Edgerton, the first lieutenant, inquired. “Should we beat to quarters?”

  In that moment, Jason envisioned his wife, recalled her fears, remembered her tears, and he ached to hold her. “No, as a fourth share is hardly worth the effort. Maintain course and heading.”

  “Aye, sir.” The first lieutenant dipped his chin.

  In the distance, off the bow, the North Foreland posited a warm welcome to the Thames Estuary, which brought him closer to home and his Alex. And much like the Brethren husbands, Jason kept the canvas hardened in, to catch the wind.

  Almost five hours had passed, when the Intrepid sailed into the docks at Deptford, and he all but ran for his coach, sidestepping the heartfelt reunions that inspired nothing more than deep-seated desire for Alex. As he sank into the squabs, in preparation for the drive to London, Jason retrieved from his waistcoat pocket the wedding ring he had yet to give his bride.

  Fashioned of old gold, the
jewelry boasted a large oval sapphire surrounded by diamonds, the latter he had added for his lady. The family heirloom had belonged to his mother, and he had planned to place it on Alex’s finger, but she had refused to join hands at their wedding ceremony. He had carried the bauble on him, ever since.

  When he arrived at his London residence, he unlocked the door and waited as the driver unloaded Jason’s trunks. Alone in his bachelor’s lair, he stood in the foyer, as a disconcerting shiver of unease traipsed his spine. Gazing into the drawing room, he discovered nothing amiss, yet a strange emptiness permeated his being, and he suffered Alex’s absence as a vicious blow.

  The palatial townhouse, bereft of fresh flowers, sumptuous rugs, comfortable pillows, and all manner of useless knickknacks, lacked the warmth of their country estate. It lacked Alex’s touch. In short, she had made their grand house a home. Had he no previous engagement, he would ride hell-bent for leather into her arms, but duty called. As customary, Admiral Douglas had summoned the Brethren to the usual meeting room at White’s to debrief the mission.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Collingwood.” Haynes, Jason’s factotum, strolled into the foyer. “I knew not when to expect you. Shall I unpack your trunks?”

  “No.” Jason rested hands on hips. “I shall return to the country, tomorrow. Prepare a bath, as I have an appointment, this evening.”

  “Yes, sir.” Haynes bowed.

  So Jason passed the next few hours savoring a fine cigar and soaking in the tub. At the agreed upon time, he skipped down the stairs, navigated the alleyway, entered the mews, saddled his horse, and made for the gentlemen’s club. To his surprise, the full compliment of the Brethren husbands had already gathered.

  “Jason, we saved you a seat.” The admiral smiled and signaled for a drink. “As your brother knights have made their report, I need only inquire whether or not you have anything of significance to add?”

  “No, sir.” Jason reclined and stretched his booted feet. “As per orders, I rendezvoused with the Surprise northwest of the Bay of Biscay and transferred communiqués, supplies, and reinforcements. Beyond that, the mission was unremarkable.”