Bound By The Heart

by Canham, Marsha

  Summer reached for her gloves and the slip of paper fell off her lap. Von Zernak retrieved it and pressed it into her hand.

  "I want you to promise me that you will take this herbal mixture. We want to deliver you of a strong child, and these tropical climates, the tendency leans toward early, sickly arrivals."

  "Early?" She gasped the word without thinking.

  The doctor glanced over the rim of his pince-nez and pursed his lips again. He took back the slip of paper and jotted down the names of two more herbs, inking a small star beside both.

  "Have a separate sachet of these two made up for you. Brew a strong tea out of them twice a day; once in the morning, once late in the evening. There are no guarantees, of course, but several of my patients have had good results."

  "Thank you. You have been very kind."

  "Mmm. You just see that you take care of yourself. You need to build up your strength or all the herbs in the world will not help. May I assume you have your own doctor elsewhere?"

  Summer flushed slightly. "Yes, in Bri—" She caught herself in time, but the doctor smiled.

  "In Bridgetown? Well, there is no need to see him at once if you would rather not, but I would be inclined to tell him about the herbs should any complications arise."

  "Complications?"

  "Bleeding near the end of term. Excessive swelling of the joints—ankles in particular. And of course, unlike elephants, we would not like to see you carry the babe for twenty-four months."

  She flushed warm. "I promise I shall tell him."

  He escorted her to the office door. When she was out onto the stoop and down the stairs, she stood on the street for a long moment, blinking in the strong sunlight, uncertain which way to turn.

  Three months.

  Morgan Wade's child.

  Summer walked the two blocks of storefronts to where the carriage was waiting. The trip home would take well over an hour, hopefully long enough to settle the churning in her stomach.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back wearily in the seat. The carriage rolled and swayed on the hard packed earth, and she noted absently that the crest they were climbing skirted the same bay where Stuart Roarke had docked the Vigilant.

  It was foolish and childish and naive, but in all of these weeks she had not considered the possibility that she had left Bounty Key carrying Wade's child. They had spent three nights together. Three. And at the end of that time, he had put her on the Vigilant and walked back across the beach without so much as glance back as the ship left the cove.

  She may have been swept away in the excitement, the turmoil, the intrigue...but surely there had to be some semblance of love present to produce a child? Love was tenderness and affection and easy laughter. It was a look or a word or something intangible that made the world grind to a breathless standstill without even having to touch. That was love, and she had no such feelings for Morgan Wade, nor he for her.

  Summer felt a splash of wetness on her cheeks and brushed her gloved fingertips across them to dash away the warm spill of tears. It was too late for weeping. She was carrying the consequences of those three nights when she had allowed her body to overrule her senses, and it was too late for recriminations. There was far worse to come, for she would have to face Bennett and suffer the frigid accusations in the pale blue eyes.

  He had left Bridgetown on the Caledonia two nights after the terrible scene in the bedroom. In those two days he had barely spent an hour at Government House, and upon his departure, he had kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek, but only because Sir Lionel was present. Her anxiety and feelings of guilt had festered during the six weeks of his absence. She had lost weight and lost most of the sparkle from her eyes.

  When Bennett arrived home, she had been as nervous as on her wedding night. She had changed her dress three times; she had scolded two maids and worried a third into tears, blaming the girl when her hair refused to respond to the curling tongs. Bennett had walked into the front hall, and for all of five seconds Summer had felt that her efforts had not been in vain, that he had forgiven her. But his eyes had quickly lost their gleam of approval, and the smile had been caught and forced into submission. He had been cold and aloof after that, answering even her most innocent questions with one-word answers that discouraged further conversation.

  He had been home less than a week and had already announced his plans to take the Caledonia out again immediately. The sea trials had exceeded his expectations; she had picked up five knots of speed and the new configuration of guns was a deadly success.

  The carriage seemed to make remarkable time and was turning up the drive to Government House long before she had collected her thoughts. She remembered to take the parcels she had purchased and entered the main door of the elegant mansion as if she were walking through a dream. None of the servants were hovering nearby, which was odd, but then she heard voices coming from the main receiving room and presumed her father was entertaining guests. She veered away from the door and held the wrapped parcels carefully so as not to make any rustling sounds as she tiptoed toward the stairs. She was in no mood to be charming or gracious. Thankfully the doors were closed but for an inch or so, and with luck, she could move stealthily past without being seen.

  "The last sighting we had of the Chimera placed her just off Ragged Point," a male voice was saying. "She should make port within the next few hours if our information is accurate."

  "Bloody cheek," Sir Lionel huffed. "You'd think he'd stay well away from this island now."

  "It would not be sporting," Bennett said dryly. "And it is more or less what I would expect of him. The sheer arrogance of the man would prompt him to anchor in the harbor and laugh in our faces."

  "You say you scoured the Sirens for any sightings of him?"

  "I found the channel easily enough and patrolled the chain of atolls on both sides. I would have searched further north, but received word that his ship had been sighted off St. Lucia, some two hundred miles to the south. A week later, we intercepted a cutter whose captain said he had just seen Wade himself on the island of Dominica, so who the hell knows where the bastard truly was."

  Outside in the hallway, Summer stood frozen, her breath trapped somewhere in her throat.

  "You are certain he does most of his black market business with the Marlowe Brothers?" There was no mistaking the nasal whine of Farley Glasse.

  "Yes, sir. They have had a long and profitable association."

  "And he would have no reason not to trust them now?"

  "None whatsoever.

  "Excellent. We have gone to a great deal of trouble—and cost—to arrange for the Marlowes to take delivery of a large shipment of brand new flintlocks with enough shot and powder to arm a small militia. Just the sort of thing Wade will find too tempting to pass up."

  "If he makes arrangements to purchase those guns, Marlowe has promised that we will know about it within the hour."

  "You trust Marlowe to play on both sides of the fence? You don't worry that he will be loyal to Wade?"

  "Marlowe is only loyal to his money belt and we have padded it well," Bennett said.

  "You still think it wise to let him out of the harbor? We can just as easily trap him there once he has the guns on board."

  "That would create just the kind of incident Sir Lionel is adamant about avoiding. No, gentlemen. When he picks up those guns from Congor Bay, he is not going to dally too long in getting them back to Bounty Key. My guess is he will beat a path straight back to Bounty Key and since we now know he must pass through the Twin Sisters to get there, we can be there waiting for him. To that end, I propose we send the Northgate on ahead—immediately, if possible—to take up position on the north side of the reef."

  "And the Caledonia?"

  "I intend to take her out of port, as if on another routine patrol. When the Chimera has loaded her cargo, we will follow in her wake, lying off enough to avoid detection, and hopefully catch her between us at the Sirens."

  "Rath
er extraordinary measures, wouldn't you say, Commodore? Two warships on an open hunt? The Americans won't like it, won't like it at all if they get wind of it."

  "Which is precisely why the Sirens are perfect for our needs. One warship trying to give chase is inadequate, for if he makes it through the channel, we lose him in the islands. However, with the Northgate blocking the exit and the Caledonia in his wake, he will quickly realize the futility of even trying to break past us, and we should be able to take him without firing a single shot."

  "If you do have to fire, though..."

  "If the Commodore has to fire," Glasse said coldly, "the French will be blamed for the kill."

  "Just how do you propose to accomplish that?"

  "Quite simply. In the wake of the battle, there will debris from the Chimera...and from the French vessel, the Etoile."

  "The Etoile?"

  "A forty-four gun frigate the Caledonia stumbled across while running her trials off the Sirens. It was hulled rather badly, quite beyond salvage. But enough debris was picked up to allow identification, including her masthead."

  "I see. Very neatly done. But how do you propose to keep the survivors from bearing witness?"

  Someone coughed to clear his throat and a lengthy silence followed before another voice murmured. "I see."

  "You still have the challenge of keeping Wade's ship in sight as you follow him north. The Caledonia is not exactly a fishing ketch. How do you propose to follow him without being seen yourself?"

  "With this, gentlemen," Bennett said.

  Summer heard a shuffle of booted feet and was poised to run for the stairs, but none of the footsteps approached the door.

  "Good God!"

  "Indeed," Glasse chuckled. "Several of them were delivered to me just this past week. They are incredible spyglasses, gentlemen. To the most keen-eyed lookout, the Caledonia will remain invisible on the horizon. To Commodore Winfield and to Captain Ashton-Smythe—whom we now welcome eagerly to the fray—the Chimera will be seen clearly enough to count the rings on her masts."

  "By Jove!"

  Bennett laughed. "My father-in-law has just discovered how exceptional the view is. May I draw your attention to the upper windows of Madame LaRose's fine establishment."

  There were more hearty laughs and ribald remarks, followed by the sound of crystal clinking on crystal as glasses were refilled.

  "A toast to our success," Glasse said. "Both on land, and at sea."

  Summer moved swiftly away from the doorway. She hurried up the main staircase to the south wing and did not slow her pace until she was safely in her sitting room with the door firmly shut behind her. She dropped her parcels and pulled off her gloves, then untied her bonnet and flung it on a nearby chair.

  Her husband was setting a trap for Morgan Wade. She knew the Caledonia's sea trials had been impressive. Her firepower was awesome, her speed and handling at peak efficiency. Bennett was making no attempt to disguise the fact that he wanted the confrontation to be violent and final. If he had already made plans to let the French take the blame, it also meant he had no intention of leaving any witnesses alive, thus the silence that had followed the question about survivors.

  Thorny, Stuart Roarke, Mr. Phillips...they had all shown her and Michael kindness in one way or another. Even Mr. Monday had followed Wade into the currents off the channel when she and her brother had foolishly tried to swim for shore.

  And Morgan Wade.

  Summer closed her eyes and leaned her brow on the cool window pane. Try as she might, she could not put him entirely out of her mind. She could not forget him and now, if anything, the memories would grow stronger each day. He could have left her to drown; he could have abandoned her to her fate on Saint Martin; he could have let the currents deal with her and saved his ship from suffering damage from the Northgate's guns...but he hadn't done any of those things. Did that mean she owed him more than the price she was already paying?

  She looked down and pressed her fingertips over the soft outline of her belly. She felt it again: A startled, struggling flutter, like a butterfly beating its wings.

  "What can I do?" she asked in a whisper. "There is nothing I can do to help. Nothing I should do to help."

  The flutter became stronger, more insistent.

  "Damn you, Morgan Wade." She felt the threat of tears burning in her eyes. "Damn you."

  A sound out in the hallway had her turning away from the window and wiping furiously at her eyes. Bennett strode through a moment later and stopped just across the threshold, as startled to see her as she was to see him. He glanced at the bonnet and gloves on the chair, and the parcels dropped beside the doorway.

  He offered an awkward bow. "You are back early. When your father said you were at the dressmakers, I did not expect to see you before nightfall."

  "It was only a fitting," she said quietly. "The gowns I ordered should be ready within the week."

  He made no comment and she fidgeted as the silence dragged out.

  "I heard voices when I came in," she said. "Father has guests?"

  Bennett's eyes narrowed. "You did not care to join us?"

  Summer shook her head and turned aside, using the pretence of straightening a cushion on the window seat in order to avoid his gaze. "No. I heard that awful man's voice and walked right past."

  "Farley Glasse?"

  "I am surprised Father even allowed him back into the house."

  Bennett turned and closed the door with a thoughtful little frown.

  "He was here by my invitation. He is an offensive little prick, but he has influence in high places and has proven to be useful in some matters. You said you overheard us talking," he continued smoothly. "Exactly what did you hear?"

  "Not much," she said and then she faced him squarely. "Only that you are going out on patrol again."

  Bennett's mouth curved down in a smirk. "And the thought distresses you?"

  "Bennett...please," she sighed. "Can we not just put the past in the past and move forward with our lives?"

  "Not as long as there are three of us in my bed, no."

  She sighed and appealed one last time. "Bennett...please."

  "Surely you can understand my dilemma. I have something I cannot see and cannot fight cropping up in my bed each night, and frankly, madam, I will not tolerate it. If it takes a killing to purge his shadow, then so be it. I see no way that we can move forward until he is out of our lives completely."

  "Why did you marry me?" she asked through a shiver. "If you suspected something had happened on board the Chimera...why did you insist on going ahead with the marriage? I offered you the choice. I offered to release you from the betrothal."

  Bennett's eyes took a slow, deliberate course down her body then up again. "I suffered under the misguided notion that you might thank me for it one day. You did not appreciate the gesture?"

  "Gesture? Was that all it was to you?"

  "Good heavens, no." He smiled again, cold and hard. "Your father added fifty thousand pounds and clear title to the Dover cane plantation to the negotiations. I would have been a fool to pass that up for a little wounded pride."

  Summer's gray eyes registered her shock. Dover was one of the richest plantations on the island. It produced almost a quarter of the total sugarcane crop for Barbados...and it had supposedly been designated as part of Michael's inheritance.

  "Don't look so horrified, my dear. Ambition and greed go hand in hand in life. I have a great deal of the one, and your father has the profits to show for the other."

  "What are you trying to say?"

  "Simply this: Marrying the governor's daughter and acquiring one of the most profitable tracts of land in Barbados has assured me of a comfortable future. Having a naval officer—hopefully an admiral before too long—as a son-in-law, all but ensures your father's position here in the islands. His fortunes, you see, have not all been amassed by...shall we say...ethical means." He stopped and his smile became slightly mocking. "That isn't to say I do not
feel any attraction to you, my dear. Your body is quite accommodating and with a little training, might be equal to any one of Madame LaRose's lovelies."

  Summer stared, feeling a crawling sensation along her spine.

  "You were the one who demanded the truth," he murmured.

  She looked down at her hands. "Yes, and you should have been honest about your ambitions from the outset. It might have made us both feel less like fools."

  "I strongly doubt that. I still would have had this husbandly need to see Wade out of my bed and stretching by his neck on a yardarm."

  Summer was prepared to cast a scathing retort his way but faltered when she saw that his tunic was open and his hands were unfastening the waist of his breeches. Her mouth went dry and her heart began to thud in her ears.

  "What do you think you are doing?"

  His smile broadened. "Tending to other husbandly needs, of course. I shall be absent from the comfort of your bed for some time and would be remiss in my duties if I were to depart without leaving you with fond memories to warm you while I am gone. Moreover, now that we have cleared the air, so to speak, there is no more need to carry on this little sham of righteousness you have been striving to uphold. Indeed, my own appetites have been somewhat hampered by your inability to...relax and enjoy what your body was made to offer."

  "You are contemptible," she said quietly.

  "And you, madam? You find nothing contemptible in a wife who cries out for another man in her husband's bed?"

  Summer's eyes blurred. "I believe I have paid for that a hundred times over."

  "Maybe so. Then again, maybe it will take a thousand times for me to forget." He strode forward and pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing down over hers.

  Summer struggled against him, but his grip was firm. The kiss was wet and hard and invasive, and she could taste his rage even as she felt him tugging at the delicate cloth of her gown, tearing the seams in his haste.

  "Bennett, please...be reasonable!"

  "Reasonable?" His blond head came up, and there was an ominous gleam behind his eyes. "I am the most reasonable man you could have hoped for under the circumstances, my dear. I have taken your spoiled nature and your petulance with some humor. I have tolerated your moods and your grand, poignant silences in stride, not to mention the frigid martyrdom you oblige me with in your bed."