Captain Of Her Heart

by Barbara Devlin

  “And that would be—what?” She mocked him with his earlier challenge, as she fiddled with her napkin.

  How he wished he possessed sufficient courage to profess his love, but he had only managed not to puke, during his afternoon practice. But there were other ways to make his declaration. He scooted back his chair and slapped his thighs. “Come here.”

  Frowning, she furrowed her brow. “Jason—”

  “Come here.” Clutching her wrist, he lowered his chin and narrowed his stare. “Now, Alex.”

  “All right, but it is your fault if I faint, as I am famished.” She sidestepped his legs and perched in his lap.

  “Then allow me to rectify that problem.” After stacking his plate atop hers, he uncovered the various entrees, picked up a fork, and speared a carrot, which he fed his bride. Then he teased her with a healthy taste of turbot with lobster sauce, until she laughed. Bite by bite, interspersed with flirty kisses, his haughty society maiden emerged from the dour comportment of the woman he had devastated in Plymouth. In her good humor, he found pleasure unlike any he had ever known and something he never would have foreseen.

  As he cared for his wife, Jason struggled with powerful possessiveness. The urge to protect her and his children overwhelmed him and might have moved him to tears, had she not rewarded his efforts with an arresting smile. In that instant, Alex’s happiness had become of paramount importance.

  “Darling, what bewitched me, from the start, was your generous nature, which I did not fully understand, in London.” He caressed her belly. “It was in Plymouth, when you befriended Molly, a charwoman, and later, here, at Stratfield Manor, when you took Gertie and Arnold under your munificent tutelage, that the depth of your benevolent spirit struck me, and the contrast is quite startling. Whereas then you concealed nothing from me, now you hide from me, and it is a rare and cherished moment that I glimpse my Alex.”

  “Then why did you refuse to marry me?” She cupped his cheek. “I need to reconcile the past with the present, so I might move forward.”

  Oh, his bold society miss had just made a spectacular return.

  “I told you, back in Plymouth. Never would I have made you a young widow.” He trailed a finger along the curve of her jawline. “But the truth is there are no justifiable reasons for my actions, darling. I wronged you, and I shall go to my grave with that singular regret, as I ache for my Alex.”

  “I know, and I am trying to find her.” To his surprise, she pressed her lips to his. “And I do so long to believe in you, again.”

  “Do you?” Hell, he would write her an anthology full of sappy poetry, if it helped him regain her good opinion.

  “Yes,” she replied in a whisper. “And I should apologize to you, as now we must both settle for less than what might have been.”

  “Settle?” Jason scoffed. “How so?”

  “You, because it is obvious I am not your choice, else you would have done the honorable by me.” She rested her hand to his chest. “And I because I yearned for so much more, yet I must accept what I have, when I might have had it all, had I been patient.”

  Repudiations and rebuttals traipsed the tip of his tongue, yet he responded not. For a long while, Jason simply held her, and Alex clung to him. Tension hung in the air, thick as London fog, as they were two lost souls, each seeking to find their way back to a place they had gone, before.

  “Are you partial to dessert, sweetheart?” That was not what she needed to hear from him, but coward that he was he reached for a lifeline. Jason uncovered the last untouched dish to reveal a bowl of luscious strawberries. “As I recall, these are your favorite.”

  “Indeed, you are correct.” With a charming blush, Alex dipped her chin. “And you do tempt me, sir.”

  “Then let us adjourn to our bed.” He waggled his brows. “Where I shall feed you, with my own hands.”

  “That sounds like the perfect ending to a wonderful meal.” She eased from his lap, walked to the four-poster they shared, doffed her robe, and slid beneath the covers. “Coming, darling?”

  “Oh, I hope so.” He swaggered to the edge of the mattress, untied both belts at his waist, dropped his clothes, and joined her amid the sheets. Though he tried to resist the lure of her naked body, he marveled at the changes. Boasting crimson nipples, her breasts were huge, and he burned to make love to them, as he once had in the little cottage.

  Alex emitted a plaintive sob, clamped her eyes shut, and winced. Then she exhaled and peered at him. “The babes are restless.”

  So was Jason.

  Yet, in that instant, he envisioned his children, bobbing and weaving, as they attempted to dodge the fearsome Jolly Roger, and he blanched. “Is it bad?”

  “No worse than usual.” Gritting her teeth, she hissed and hugged her most prominent protrusion. It was then he noted the tiny belly button he had once filled with his seed had mutated into a webbed mass of jutting flesh, with tiny tracings of purple veins, just beneath the surface of her skin. “May I touch you?”

  “Of course.” Alex gave vent to something between a sob and a sigh.

  As Jason set his palm to the crest of her abdomen, a sharp movement startled him. The proof of life, the result of their union, manifested a humbling experience, and no poetic phrase could express the magnitude of his joy.

  Instead of enacting the seduction he had planned, he simply fed his wife strawberries, as they spoke of dreams for their future, and that of their children. And for the first time since arriving at Stratfield, his Alex surfaced sans intimate activity, and he counted the occasion a most precious boon. So he resolved not to make love to his bride—that night.

  #

  Alex wanted nothing more than to make love to her husband, given his tender care and thoughtful gesture, so she walked her fingers to his erection and was shocked to discover him not so erect.

  “Not tonight, sweetheart.” Grasping her wrist, Jason kissed her knuckles, and then settled her hand on her belly. “You need rest, love.”

  “But I am not so tired, as you might think.” To her frustration, she tried but failed to stifle a yawn.

  “Evidence to the contrary.” As he set the bowl of strawberries on the bedside table, he chuckled. “Snuggle close, sweetheart. It is cool tonight, and I would not have you catch a chill.”

  “But I am never cold when you are near.” And now she was hungry—but not for food. Oh, where was her naughty sea captain, when she needed him? “Jason, I am not averse to pleasure, and we are married, as you always remind me.”

  “Go to sleep, Alex.” As was his way, he tucked the blankets to her chin and rubbed her scalp.

  But she wanted her husband.

  That was the last coherent thought she had that night.

  #

  Peeved was too tame a word for Alex’s disposition, as she had longed to make love to Jason, and her husband had put her to sleep. To add insult to injury, he had breakfasted without her and departed for a ride, before she had shown a leg.

  “Ouch.” A speck of blood formed on her fingertip, where she had pricked herself with a needle, and she frowned at her embroidery, because her stitches were crooked and loose. “What a deuced mess.”

  “My lady, are you all right?” Molly grinned. “You seem a tad out of sorts, today.”

  Well that was an understatement. “I am fine, and thank you, for asking. But I am quite well.”

  “Then may I confide in you?” The nanny bounced and tossed aside her silks. “It is about Mr. Penniman, and I am dying to talk to someone.”

  “Of course, you may rely on me.” How Alex wished one of her friends were available, that she might impart her secrets. As Molly worked for Jason, Alex could not share such personal information with a staff member. “I am the personification of judiciousness.”

  “Oh, Alex.” The nursemaid peered over her shoulder and then leaned forward to whisper, “Tom has been so attentive, of late.”

  “Indeed?” Alex giggled, when Molly nodded with enthusiasm. “And you m
ay speak up, as the door is closed, so no one can hear you.”

  “I hardly know where to begin, as there are so many developments to report.” With a squeal of delight, the nanny clutched a fist to her bosom. “Never had I dreamed any man, much less my Tom, could be so thoughtful—or inventive.”

  “How wonderful for you.” Alex pondered all the considerate expressions of affection, including the bawdy poetry, Jason had bestowed upon her. “And I am the first to admit the male species is full of surprises, when they put their minds to it. Judging by your countenance of unutterable elation, I presume you are pleased?”

  “Thrilled is more like it.” Molly hugged herself and gazed at the ceiling. “Tom had roses delivered to my bedchamber, and you should have seen the blooms. There must have been two dozen. And he wrote me a poem.”

  “Roses and poetry in your bedchamber?” Alex rubbed her belly. “How remarkable.”

  “But that is not all.” The nanny lifted her chin and grinned. “My dear Mr. Penniman gifted me a box of fine Belgian chocolates—the same brand you have delivered from London, and we enjoyed them in the gazebo, by moonlight.”

  “The very same?” Nagging suspicion nipped at Alex’s heels, but she ignored the disconcerting sensation. “How fortunate for you.”

  “And dare I tell you of last week?” Molly averted her stare, and she blushed. “Never in my life had I imagined I would experience anything so grand.”

  “What happened?” Bile pooled in her throat, and Alex bit back the fast rising nausea. “I await your news with baited breath.”

  Hesitating, Molly bit her lip and twined her fingers. At last, she leaned near and cupped her palm to Alex’s ear. In a quiet tone, the nursemaid divulged her news.

  Raw and bitter anger surged through Alex’s veins, and a shiver of dread coursed her spine. For the second time in her life, she suffered a mortal blow at Jason’s hands, and never would she forgive him. But she would have her due, and he would suffer for giving her hope.

  “Dearest Molly, I am so glad you found a good man, as they are a rare breed.” Alex shimmied to the edge of the chaise and stood. “Now I am sorry to cut short our conversation, but I must speak with Captain Collingwood.”

  “Wait.” With a pained visage, Molly jumped to her feet. “You will not tell Cap’n about the rosewater bath, will you? As I swear nothing untoward occurred in my chamber. Tom enlisted the aid of Miss Phipps, so he was not in attendance when I enjoyed his present.”

  “Calm yourself, friend.” Alex forced a smile, even as she ached to tear her wayward spouse apart, limb from limb. “The matter I wish to discuss with my husband has nothing to do with you, I promise. And now I order you to seek out your Mr. Penniman and join him for lunch.”

  “Perhaps I could prepare his meal, to thank him for everything he has done for me.” Molly curtseyed. “I shall meet you in the nursery, this afternoon.”

  “We can finish our needlework.” With the strength of which she had not known she possessed, until that moment, Alex composed herself and strolled from the back parlor, down the hall, and into the foyer, where she located the butler. “Is Captain Collingwood in residence?”

  “Yes, your ladyship.” Phipps dipped his chin. “Cap’n is just returned from his ride and is in his study.”

  “Thank you.” With head held high, Alex turned on her heel, as inside her something fractured.

  At the double door entry, she had not bothered to knock. Riding a wave of high dudgeon, she stormed into Jason’s domain and slammed the oak panel behind her. At that very second, her husband came alert.

  “Hello, beautiful.” The smile with which he had welcomed her faded, his expression sobered, and he shot from his chair and rounded the desk. “What is wrong? Are you ill? Is it the babes?”

  Ire invested her muscles, gathered in her chest and found a convenient outlet in her hand. Summoning all her might, she slapped Jason across the face. “How dare you?”

  “How dare I—what?” Rubbing his jaw, he retreated a step. “Explain yourself.”

  “Explain yourself, sir.” As reality dawned, Alex shook her head, in denial. “How could you do it? Of all the things to take from a person, how could you steal a leap of faith?”

  “Wait a minute.” Jason scowled. “Wait one bloody minute. What are you talking about, as I am innocent?”

  “You are the lowest of the low, luring me with pleasantries and overtures intended for someone else.” Tears beckoned, and she cursed them, as she would not cry. “Well I am no longer your fool, and you have toyed with my affection for the last time.”

  “What do you imply?” With fists on hips, Jason shifted his weight.

  “Did you really expect to get away with your unscrupulous manipulations? Did you think I would not discover your deceit?” The babes kicked, and she sucked in a breath. “I am not some fresh-faced twit just out of the schoolroom.”

  “Enlighten me, Alex.” He yanked his cravat. “As God is my witness, I am blameless.”

  “Liar.” She bared her teeth.

  Jason caught her, fast as lightning, in a half hug. Twining his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, he forced her to meet his stare. “I am a man of countless faults, but engaging in falsehoods is not one of them.”

  “I reference the roses, the poetry, the chocolates, and the bath.” When he tightened his grip, she whimpered. “How could you do it? How could you resort to such vile tactics and steal the ideas of our stablemaster?”

  “I beg your pardon?” He released her. “You believe I took cues from Tom?”

  “I know you did, without doubt.” And it killed her to admit it. “Have you no shame? You are without honor.”

  “Calm yourself, as you are mistaken.” With a lethal glare, he folded his arms. “If I borrowed from anyone, I borrowed from you, as I know your tastes and predilections. I catered to your whims, and this is the thanks I get?”

  “We both know you did more than that, and I fell for your ruse.” And it galled Alex to recall she had almost given herself to him the previous night. “Once again, you have played me false, and you may go to the devil.”

  “With relish, my dear bride.” Jason sketched a bow. “And I wish you the same.”

  “I am already there.” Preparing to strike a blow, she squared her shoulders. “And I shall have you moved into a guestroom, as I will play your whore, no more.”

  “Worry not, my lady wife.” To her unmitigated shock, her husband stomped to the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “This time, you have hurt me, and I refuse to spend another night where I am not wanted.”

  With that, he quit the study, leaving Alex standing stock-still, as she digested what had just happened. For several minutes, she lingered amid her captain’s sanctuary, the diligent decoration of which she had invested with love. Nothing had escaped her touch, so in light of the heated argument, the furnishings and trimmings seemed to mock her.

  “I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Mr. Penniman tarried in the entry. “I need to speak with Cap’n.”

  “He is indisposed.” Composing herself, she leaned on the back of a chair. “May I be of assistance?”

  “It is a personal matter.” With a blush, Tom shuffled his feet. “But Cap’n is familiar with my situation.”

  “Do come in, and have a seat.” She occupied Jason’s place behind the impressive desk she had purchased for her husband.

  “My lady, I wish to propose to Molly.” The stablemaster scratched his chin. “My problem is I am not very good at romantic enterprises.”

  “I would not say that, as my nanny sings your praises.” Alex catalogued the various demonstrations Jason had enacted.

  “But those were Cap’n’s ideas.” Tom grinned. “Forgive my forwardness, but he is what most men refer to as done for, when it comes to your ladyship. To assume credit for his efforts would be dishonest.”

  Her ears rang, as the bells in a Wren steeple, and she sank in the leather, high-back chair. “So the roses, poetry, chocolates
, and bath—”

  “—Were at Captain Collingwood’s direction, and he advanced me the money so I might woo Molly.” The stablemaster compressed his lips. “Must admit I am a poor excuse for a lovesick hero. In the realm of amorous endeavors, I am a fraud. What I did for Miss Duckett was at Cap’n’s suggestion. Beggin’ your pardon, your ladyship, but are you all right? You are quite pale.”

  “Actually, I have never been better.” While Alex regretted her actions, and she would apologize to Jason, what she had discovered in the process made her heart sing. “And we shall devise a plan for you to propose, so that Miss Duckett counts herself a most fortunate wife.”

  “Thank you, your ladyship.” Tom cleared his throat. “I am in your debt, as well as Captain Collingwood’s.”

  That makes two of us. Because it was her turn to set things right with her husband, and she would not fail. “Worry not, Mr. Penniman. We will catch your bride.”

  And with a little luck, Alex would, at last, snare her captain.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Your ladyship, Captain Collingwood requests your presence in his study.” Miss Phipps frowned, when she noted the untouched bowl of soup, which remained on the tray, along with the slice of bread, because Alex had no appetite. “Was the fare not to your liking, my lady?”

  “I am sure it is fine.” Alex closed the book she had not been reading, as she sulked in her sitting room. “But I am not hungry.”

  Two days, and as many painfully lonely nights, had passed since her row with Jason, and he had not spoken to her. Avoiding her at every turn, he showed no inclination to resolve their differences and allowed her no opportunity to make amends. Thrilled he had, at last, summoned her, she flew from the overstuffed chair.

  “Will you help me change?” Alex tottered into the bedchamber and scrutinized her appearance. “I wish to wear the pale yellow morning dress, as Captain Collingwood favors it. And would you rearrange my hair, as I would prefer a single curl draped at my neck.”