Enchanted by Your Kisses

by Pamela Britton

  "Aye. As much as I love Nathan," she answered proudly.

  He stared at her a long, long moment, Ariel's breath quickening with every moment that passed. Something was changing in his face, something she hardly dared believe.

  "I'll need to send a note to Lord Dunsmeer. He runs the harbor in Portsmouth and can tell you which ships will be the fastest to the colonies." He was straightening, once again becoming the First Lord, even though his eyes still shone red with tears. "I'll send him a note straightaway."

  Ariel stared at her father in disbelief. "Oh, Papa," she murmured, his face growing blurry through her tears. "You're going to help me."

  He nodded, though he didn't look at her. "I would rather have you gone than live the rest of your life with half a heart, as I have done."

  Tears fell down her cheeks. "Oh, Papa," she gushed. As if in a dream she found heself racing into his arms. He didn't hold her at first, but then she felt his arms slowly move around her. They tightened, then tightened even more.

  "Go, Ariel. Be happy. Goodness knows you've earned it."

  Her tears came harder, and it was then that Ariel D'Archer, daughter to the earl of Bettencourt, realized she was not an orphan after all.

  23

  The ship crashed through the wave, sea foam hitting Nathan in the face with an icy slap. But Nathan didn't care, for with each bob of the prow he traveled further and further away from her. Further away from the black-hearted bitch he'd fallen in love with.

  A woman who gave you your brother back, said a voice.

  Oh, aye, she'd done that. And for that he was grateful. Her parting gift to him. How touching.

  "Sir?"

  Nathan turned, having to pry his hands away from the rail.

  "Come quick, sir. He is awake."

  Nathan jolted alert. Wess awake? Could such a miracle have happened?

  Judging by the smiling look on the doctor's face, it had.

  He followed quickly along the rail of the deck, then down some stairs to the private quarters below. He'd been fortunate to find a doctor willing to set sail with them, though Nathan had wondered at the necessity of it—especially since his brother had made little improvement since they'd left Brighton. He'd needed a physician, and the good doctor was the only one willing to go. But Nathan would pay him double his wages if his brother was indeed awake.

  He was.

  Nathan could see it the moment he entered their brightly lit cabin, lantern light seeming to illuminate every corner.

  "Wess?" he called out. His brother's face was still bruised, even after two weeks at sea. But his cuts looked better. For that he could thank the good doctor, too.

  "Where is she?" his brother rasped.

  Nathan stared down at him in surprise. "Where is who?"

  "The angel who rescued me from the bowels of that hellhole, HMS Destiny. I wish to thank her."

  Nathan drew back in shock. "Lady D'Archer?"

  "Aye, that is her, for I heard the naval cur who came to get me call her so. Where is she?"

  Nathan's face suddenly felt frozen. Any joy he felt at having his brother awaken temporarily faded. "She is not here."

  Now it was Wess's turn to look confused. "But she must be."

  "I assure you she is not."

  "But how can that be when I heard her tell that naval scum of a captain how much she loved you?"

  The words were slow to sink in. "She what?"

  Wess motioned with a shaking hand for water. Nathan hurriedly complied, helping his brother drink. When he finished, he looked a bit better.

  "Wess, you must tell me what you heard."

  His brother nodded, seeming to understand the urgency of the situation. "I was barely awake," he murmured. "They'd starved me of food for days. It seemed like it all happened in a dream. But it was when we were in the carriage on our way to you. She was thanking the man who accompanied her for letting her go along. She said she was grateful that he knew what it was like to leave a loved one. I assumed she was talking about you."

  Nathan sat there, stunned, the breath knocked out of him.

  "She was crying, too, I seem to recall. I couldn't understand why, if, as she said, you two were in love. And then the man said something about a deal she'd made with her father. A deal that she could not break if she wanted to see you escape with your life."

  "Damnation!" Nathan exclaimed.

  Is he forcing you to stay? he had asked.

  No, the decision was mine to make, she'd responded.

  It had been her choice. Her choice to sacrifice her love so that he could have his freedom and his brother back. Her choice to live her life, knowing she'd made him hate her. Her choice to never know love again, for as surely as he knew what she'd done, he knew her love was true.

  "Damnation," he repeated, shock, hope and amazement forcing him to his feet.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Back to England."

  "To England?"

  "Aye, to the woman I love."

  24

  The streets of Portsmouth were more crowded than the last time Ariel had visited. Or perhaps it was simply that she was more aware of them. Ariel stared out of the carriage window, observing the myriad colors the ladies wore as they walked by store fronts. Her own off-white gown with black trim would hardly make a splash against the colors she saw. Even the gentlemen looked colorful. ‘Twas the last time she would ever see these streets, Ariel thought, feeling melancholy, for when she left on this afternoon's tide she would never return. Even now her father was waiting for her at an inn while she gathered some last-minute supplies. And though she should look forward to her future with Nathan, there still remained the question of whether or not he would forgive her.

  Pray God he would.

  The coach passed more shops. A sudden urge made Ariel tell the coachman to stop. She'd planned on sending Phoebe something from the colonies, but she would send her cousin something now, too, something that begged Phoebe's forgiveness for refusing to take Phoebe with her to Portsmouth. Two weeks she'd had to wait for a ship to take her to the Americas. Two weeks of knowing she'd have to say good-bye. Two weeks of dreading that good-bye. How could she explain to her kind-hearted cousin that saying good-bye in Portsmouth would have been harder than in town, especially since saying good-bye to her father would be hard enough? Phoebe had been hurt, Ariel hurting along with her. She would miss her darling cousin more than any other person in England, even more than the father she'd come to know in the past weeks.

  "Come back for me here in one hour," she instructed, as she was handed down from the carriage.

  The coachman nodded, Ariel adjusting her gown as she stepped upon the pavement. The shop she'd spied prior to stopping lay across the street. A sweet shop, something Phoebe was never able to resist. She would send her something from there.

  She turned, her carriage blocking the view for a moment. Sunlight blinded her, too, for the sun shone on that side of the street; her own side was in shadow. That was why she probably didn't see him at first, though it was obvious that he'd seen her.

  Nathan.

  Her heart froze. She blinked, wondering if it could be a trick or the light, for it could not possibly be. . .

  "Nathan?" she called out.

  Another carriage passed between them, but when it moved on, he still stood there looking as wonderful and as handsome as if he had stepped out of her dreams. Wide, muscular shoulders stretched beneath a trim, dark gray jacket. Angular face with intense silver eyes, the scar hardly noticeable in the bright sunlight.

  She moved as if in a dream. He didn't come to her. And as she drew nearer, she realized that it wasn't a dream. He was here. Before her. His wonderful silver eyes gazing down at her enigmatically.

  "It is you, isn't it?" she asked, coming to stand before him.

  "It is."

  And the sound of his voice. Never had something sounded so wonderful.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I had to come back," he an
swered, still not moving.

  "Why?"

  She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  "My brother."

  She felt a disappointment so keen, she could barely breathe. But then she reached out. Of its own volition her hand touched his arm. The contact made her breath catch, made her ache in a way that almost hurt. "Has he taken a turn for the worse?"

  "No. He is actually doing quite well."

  He didn't return her touch. Ariel supposed that would be asking too much. He hated her. He must. Why else would he stand there as if nothing had ever happened between them? She pulled her hand away.

  "I am glad to hear that, Nathan. Truly, I feel ashamed at what my countrymen did to him."

  He nodded. They both lapsed into silence. A cart laden with hay rumbled by, the horses' harnesses jingling.

  "And what of you? What are you doing in Portsmouth?" he asked.

  She stared up at him, letting him see all the love she felt for him. "I came for you." And suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "I came for you, because I love you, because I couldn't let you think I didn't love you, because today I was to set sail for the colonies."

  "Oh, Ariel," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I cannot believe what he said is true."

  Ariel closed her eyes, feeling his big arms circle her, knowing she had a future she had only dared to dream of. She felt his breath sigh across her ear. Or was it she who sighed? She didn't know.

  "What who said?" she asked.

  He pulled back, stared down at her. "My brother. He told me he'd overheard you tell that officer that you loved me."

  Wess had overheard the conversation? She'd thought he'd been unconscious. But did it really matter? "I do love you, Nathan." She placed her hand over his heart, feeling the heat from the sun warm her. People walked by, many of them stared. She didn't care. "I love you with all my heart."

  He didn't move. Neither did she.

  "My darling Ariel," he said softly staring down at her in wonder, in awe.

  She closed her eyes. "Oh, Nathan, Nathan. When I made you leave—"

  "Shh," he soothed, resting his fingers against her lips. "I understand, Ariel. Truly, I do. I put it all together while we sailed back. Your father forced you to choose, didn't he? Give me up, or I would be taken prisoner again."

  She didn't answer, just burrowed deeper into him. Gracious, but she'd missed his smell. Missed the sound of his voice. Missed him.

  "Is that what it was?"

  She drew back, looking into silver eyes filled with all the love in the world. It shone from his gaze, warmed her, made her realize that miraculously he wasn't angry with her.

  "Aye, Nathan. 'Tis what he did."

  "Bastard," he accused.

  "No, Nathan. Do not be angry, for he realized his mistake soon enough. 'Twas he who helped me get here, my father sacrificing the right to even see his grandchild in order to help me."

  "Child?"

  "Indeed, for I could be carrying our son right now."

  "Our son," he murmured, an odd smile lifting his face. "Our son. Aye, I like the sound of that."

  "Me, too," she sighed, tears blurring her vision again. "I like the sound of it, too."

  He bent his head toward hers. Their lips met. Neither of them cared that they were in the middle of the pavement, that the people inside the sweet shop stared, some with envy, some in shock. They cared only for each other. And that, Ariel realized a long while later, was all that really mattered.

  Epilogue

  England, 1803

  Sixteen-year-old Lady Caroline Trevain stared at the smooth surface of the lake and contemplated love—a tricky subject at best, she'd oft been told by her mother. Of course, her mother the duchess was something of a legend where love was concerned. 'Twas said she had been ruined in her younger days, a situation that filled Caroline with an odd sort of envy. There had also been rumors that she'd been kidnapped by her father, but those she dismissed as the ramblings of an old man—her grandfather, the earl of Bettencourt.

  But if her mother had been wild in her youth, she was now something of a stick-in-the-mud.

  Bother that. She was a veritable tree in the mud, Caroline thought.

  She threw a small pebble in the water. It sank with a plop, small, circular ripples that turned to larger ones spreading from where it'd disappeared.

  Why her mother was so strict with her when she herself had been wild Caroline would never know. All she wanted to do was go to a party. Just one dance before they left England. Just one, that was all she wanted. She sighed, feeling suddenly so melancholy and so upset she could hardly keep from crying.

  "What is it, little one?"

  She started, surprised to see her father standing over her.

  "Good evening, Papa."

  He stared down at her, his tan face filled with question, his hair windswept. Hair as black as her own and her mother's. That she looked like her father there could be no doubt, but she had her mother's eyes.

  "May I sit?"

  She patted the pebbled ground next to her, moving her pink skirts aside. "Of course."

  "Well?" he prompted again, tugging at the white shirt he wore.

  She almost didn't answer, but they had a special bond, she and her father, one her mother said was as different from her own relationship with her father as a young woman as a rose is from snow.

  "I am upset about leaving England."

  "Upset about leaving, or upset about not seeing Lord Robert one last time?"

  She looked over at her father in surprise, her curly black hair bobbing in her face. She swiped it away. "Am I that obvious?"

  "As obvious as a boil."

  She cringed. "That is a revolting analogy, Papa."

  "But true."

  She smiled. "Aye."

  "So you want to go to the soiree to see Robert again."

  "I do, Papa. I really do."

  "But there will be other soirees. Other young men to meet."

  "But Robert is leaving to fight against the French. This may be my last chance to see him."

  "I assure you, my dear, you will see him again."

  "But how can you be so sure?"

  Her father gave her a smile. "Because at this very moment he is at the house, cooling his heels with your mother in our drawing room."

  Caroline shot to her feet. "Oh, Papa, why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because I wasn't supposed to, so when your mother chastises me, you'd best defend me."

  She reached down and gave him a hug. Nathan closed his eyes, realizing that he loved his only little girl more than he'd ever thought it was possible to love someone other than his wife. She was exactly like Ariel, and never had a day gone by when he wasn't grateful she'd been born.

  "Thank you, Papa," she said with a kiss, turning away to all but run back to the house.

  Nathan watched her go, his thoughts traveling through the past to the time when she'd been born, then to before that, to when Colin had been born back in the colonies. That he'd been born a free man was a source of pride for Nathan, the wounds of his past having long since healed, thanks to the love of his very British wife.

  "I thank you very much for telling our daughter her true love is here."

  Nathan looked up, his wife of twenty years standing over him. She had her hands on her hips, the amber-colored dress she wore nearly the same color as her glittering eyes. That she had lost none of her beauty in the past twenty years there could be no doubt. Men still stared, it seemed to Nathan, even more in recent years than in the past. She still had her thick black hair, but now it had a wide, gray streak on the left side, something she had acquired after the birth of their first son.

  "I know you wanted me to tell her exactly that, else you would have dismissed Robbie from the house the moment he arrived."

  Her lips pursed. "And how do you know that?"

  "Because, my dear, you, like me, would rather she see him in the privacy of our home than at some inn somewhere. You know
how dangerous inns can be."

  Her eyes narrowed. "'Tis not very sporting of you to remind me of my past."

  "Ah, but it has been a good past, has it not?"

  The teasing glint in her eyes faded. They softened as she sat down next to him, her high-waisted dress a pretty contrast to the scenery around them.

  "Indeed, it has," she answered. "We may not have wanted to return to England when your uncle died, but it has been good for the children. One day this will all belong to Colin, and my father's earldom, too."

  "Speaking of which, when is the old battleship supposed to arrive?"

  "Tomorrow," she said with a smile.

  "Tomorrow? What a sad coincidence. I find I need to go into town tomorrow—"

  She hit him on the arm. "You do not."

  "No?" he teased.

  "No," she answered.

  He smiled, losing himself in his thoughts again. "It has been good, hasn't it?" he murmured after a while.

  Ariel nodded, smiling up at him. "Aye. And if our children are half as lucky as we, they will find what we have. Still."

  A wobbly smile tilted her lips. Nathan was surprised to see tears enter her eyes. He tilted her head up, just as he had a thousand times, just as he would go on doing until the end of their days.

  "I love you, Ariel. You are the woman of my dreams."

  She smiled, sniffing. "The woman of your dreams, am I?"

  He nodded. "And of my fantasies. You enchant me with your kisses, my darling wife, you beguile me with your smile, and never has a day gone by when I don't thank God we found each other."

  Her smile could light up a room, Nathan admitted, surprised to feel his own eyes mist up.

  "Enchanted by my kisses?" she asked. "I think I rather like that."

  "Oh," he said. "What say I show you just how much they enchant me?" He bent, kissing her as he longed to do every time he saw her. Kissing her as he had for the past twenty years. Kissing her as he would go on kissing her for the rest of their lives.

  "Well?" he asked a long while later, drawing back, his hands on her face.