* * * *
James returned home restless and filled with thoughts of Phoebe. Her essence consumed him. Her smell, her laugh, the unique coloring of her hair and eyes. The devil take him, he could not banish the heat of her lush figure pressed against him as he’d lain overtop of her.
“Could I interest you in a drink, James?”
Dragged from the depths of his thought, James glanced up to find Judith standing in the doorway to the family parlor, a bottle of wine in one hand, a sweet, albeit inviting, smile on her lips. She wore her hair in a loose chignon with tendrils of chestnut hair frame her face and a gown that revealed a bit more bosom than usual.
All in all… she looked nervous.
Oh, Lord… Internally James groaned. She meant to seduce him. “I’m sorry, Judith,” he stood quickly and forced a smile, feigning an ease he did not feel. “Now really isn’t a good time. I was just on my way out.”
Judith’s face fell with genuine disappointment. “On your way out? But you just returned.” She lifted the bottle and tilted her head to the side. “And I worked so hard to find this for you. Your mother insists there are to be no spirits in the house while you’re in residence.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” The fact Judith wished to circumvent his mother’s wishes to reform him bothered James. Did no one believe him more than a philandering drunk?
“I thought we might share a drink between friends and… and chat about the future.” Judith moved closer, nerves and hope flickering in her eyes. Hesitantly she reached out and gently rested a hand on his bicep.
Oh, hell… She was coming on strong. There would be no easy way to rebuff her and spare her feelings. James clasped his hands behind his back and barked a wry laugh. “The only place my future is headed is back to the continent.” He stepped nimbly toward the door. “Truly, Judith, now isn’t a good time. I, uh, I am to meet with Collins before his wedding tomorrow.”
“Please, James, wait. There is something—”
“Uncle Jamie!” Toby’s voice exploded from the front hall, a blessed interruption. “There is a soldier riding up. Come quick.”
Relief suffused James. “And there you have it,” he said, forcing an ease he did not feel. “My future on the continent is nigh.” He seized the opportunity to avoid what would undoubtedly be a disastrous scene with Judith and escaped into the hallway.
He spotted Toby instantly and grinned at the boy. Pure excitement brimmed from his nephew. “Come along, lad, take me to this soldier.”
“He’s in the drive, Uncle Jamie.” Toby raced toward the front door. “He has a sword!” James followed at a more sedate pace. A dispatch rider carrying his orders no doubt. For the first time in his military career he felt conflicted about leaving.
He washed a palm over his jaw. He’d really gotten in over his head with Phoebe, and he had no one but himself to blame for the folly.
Nine
“Dear God this church is stifling, and I’m not even the one getting married,” James muttered to Nick.
“Shut up, James.”
James chuckled. Beads of sweat glistened on the young Captain’s brow, whether from wedding jitters or the insufferable humidity, James couldn’t be sure. Resisting the urge to stick a finger or two beneath his own stiff collar, James clasped his hands behind his back sweeping a gaze over the wedding goers packed into the pews. Several women waved fans in futile attempt to move the stifling air. James stood on the first step beneath the altar, just below Nick, he couldn’t imagine how miserable the seats in the pews must be.
Restless murmurs rose up from the crowd of would be well-wishers. “I wish they’d get on with it. What is taking so long?”
James couldn’t agree more with the disgruntled sentiments. Perhaps the bride had gotten nervous and fled the church. If such were the case, he certainly couldn’t blame her. Not that he’d voice the thought aloud. Nick hardly seemed in the mood for a good joke. Pity. James had a string of witticisms—
The door behind the altar slammed. Reverend Alistair rushed into the assembly hall in a flurry of oversized, ill-fitted robes. He approached the gray haired woman seated patiently at the pianoforte and whispered into her ear. The pianist nodded, straightened her spine, and placed her fingers over the keys.
Finally.
A collective sigh of relief suffused the church as the frazzled reverend—spectacles askew and hair mussed—stepped up to the altar, and nodded. A moment later the pianist rolled into a respectable rendition of Pachelbel’s Cannon.
James snapped to attention as the wide double doors at the back of the church swung open. Two adorable girls—perhaps five years old—dressed in white gowns with blue flowers weaved through their chocolate hair stepped into the aisle followed by… Phoebe.
James’s heart stuttered and all but arrested.
The devil help him, she was a vision. Swathed all in lavender silk, she commanded every aspect of his attention from the serene expression she wore to the set of her hands holding the bouquet of spring forget-me-nots. He could do naught but stare as she glided down the aisle, carving the path for the bride, her every movement graceful and fluid like a song. The pale length of her hair swept up in a gentle chignon while a few soft tendrils floated down in slender spirals to kiss her neck. Oh, how he envied those strands their proximity to her willowy throat. He’d give his left thumb to graze that wickedly smooth flesh again, and be surrounded in the soothing scent of lavender. Her beautiful eyes lifted to him, glittering and tender, and he could almost believe she walked for him. His feeble heart stumbled back to life. Beat anew. Beat for her. Lost, James all but forgot his purpose. He had eyes only for Phoebe.
“I envy you, Collins,” James murmured.
“Have eyes for my Sarah do you?”
“I envy that tonight you shall take the woman you want to bed.”
* * * *
A fat raindrop splattered square across Phoebe’s forehead the moment she followed Sarah and Nick out of the church after the ceremony. She glared up at the soupy black clouds roiling above them, silently commanding the storm to hold off long enough to get to Sarah’s home for the wedding dinner.
Well-wishers milled merrily about the churchyard, oblivious to the impending storm, laughing and surrounding a positively glowing Sarah.
“Lady Phoebe.”
Startled, Phoebe whirled. “Captain Collins.” She smiled warmly. “Congratulations. The ceremony was beautiful.”
He bowed his head graciously, eyes warm with merriment.
Phoebe laughed. “Why are you standing in the rain with me? Should you not be with your bride?”
“I will join her again shortly,” Nick said. “However, there is something I wish to ask you about.”
Surprised and curious, Phoebe all but forgot the sprinkling rain. “Go on.”
“Colonel Witherspoon made an odd statement today that I believe referred to you. Forgive my boldness, Lady Phoebe, but how well do you know him?”
Phoebe blushed. What could James have said about her? “N-not well,” she fumbled. Nick quirked a skeptical brow. Phoebe was a deplorable liar and knew it. “I am curious about him,” she relented. She shook her head, unsure how to voice her thoughts of the man that proved time and again to be a living contradiction. “What can you tell me of him?”
Nick hesitated for a moment, resting a thoughtful gaze upon her as though judging her worthy of the information he had to share. After a moment Nick shifted his attention toward James. “He saved my life. I was young and newly commissioned, didn’t have a clue about anything, and was deployed to Spain under Colonel Witherspoon’s command.” He laughed. “I will never forget the first time I saw him, stumbling drunk out of a tavern with a wench under each arm, crowing about some bet he’d won.” Nick gave his head a wry shake. “All I could think was God save me, what have I got myself into?” He sobered, growing serious once more. “Within weeks I found myself in the middle of a nasty skirmish. James never left my side. He was steady, encouraging, kn
ew exactly what to do. Without his guidance I would not be here today.”
Phoebe nodded, unsure what to say, simply divesting the information, and hungry to learn more.
“The colonel is a wonderful officer,” Nick continued. “He knows how to lead, how to gain the respect and love of his men. He is not like other officers sitting high upon self-important pedestals. He works alongside his men. If his men sleep on the ground, so does he. I have seen James pick up a shovel and work beside the lowliest enlisted men to fortify or build encampments more times than I can count. He never gives an order he isn’t willing to follow through himself, and he knows the given name of every man beneath his command.” Nick smiled. “Most superior officers disapprove of his methods.”
“They believe familiarity breeds contempt.”
“Precisely.” Nick nodded. “But as a military man, I strive to be like him.”
Phoebe’s gaze drifted to James, handsome and resplendent in his uniform, he knelt in the gravel with an infectious grin on his lips, and appeared to be charming the flower girls. “You’re telling me there is more to him than society would have us believe?”
“There is more to James than he believes himself.” Nick turned serious eyes to her. “I would see him recognize it. Old man Witherspoon ran him down a great deal, I don’t know all the specifics. James keeps personal matters close to the vest, but you are a good person, Phoebe. Like your mother. I think you could help him.”
Phoebe’s gaze drifted back to James, heart filled with compassion, and mayhap something more. She supposed she should be angry after yesterday’s rebuff, but she knew he only pushed her away to protect her.
Phoebe nibbled her lip. Perhaps she didn’t want protecting. All she really wanted was James.
The heavens opened, pouring rain upon the merry lot.
Nick broke away from her. “My bride is about to get soaked!” he called to the crowed, carving through the throng to Sarah. “Come, my love, I will whisk you away.” With an infectious grin, he scooped her rather dramatically into his arms.
Sarah squealed with laughter, looping her arms around his neck as he took ground eating strides away from the church.
The action spurred everyone to rush to Sarah’s home for the luncheon spread. Phoebe fell to the back of the crowd as did James. Together they dashed through the rain and mud, laughing with all the others. As they approached the house James turned a wicked grin to her.
Without warning he snaked an arm around her waist drawing her beneath the canopy of a large tree. Hands on her shoulders, he pressed her back to the fat trunk, stepping close, and away from where anyone could see them. “Forgive me, Siren,” the husky murmur shot straight to her soul. “I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you.” Before she could respond, he captured her lips in a devouring kiss that stole her breath away.
Phoebe melted in an instant, curling her arms around his shoulders and parting her lips in silent summons. Sweet rainwater trickled from his lips to her tongue and she tugged him closer, pressing her body against his unyielding frame. She wanted more. Even through the layers of their damp clothing every toned swell of his muscled frame scorched her like fire.
James broke the kiss and Phoebe stood on tip-toe, seeking his lips once more. He resisted her lure, instead pressing his forehead against hers. He continued to hold her close, ragged breaths leading her to believe he was at the brink of his restraint. “Will you meet me at the cottage today? I have something important to tell you.”
“Of course,” she whispered breathlessly, twining her fingers through the wet locks at his nape. Barely any rain drizzled through the branches of the ancient tree, granting them a sheltered haven of their own. “When?” Phoebe did not wish to go to the party. She longed to linger alone with James, but knew she must make an appearance. Slipping away in the excited merriment would not be difficult later, and no one at home would be suspicious if she did not return until evening.
“One hour.”
The minutes crept by like snails on the sea bottom. Phoebe gazed politely upon the festivities, taking in the toasts and speeches with half an ear. She paced about the party, restless, and eager for the moment she could slip away and meet James. She was acutely aware of his presence and exactly where he was in the room at any given moment. She could feel him, and he seemed as affected as she. Every time she glanced in his direction she found his eyes upon her. She’d flash a covert smile and he’d wink in acknowledgment. It was a fun game.
Once he ambled past her, bumping his arm against hers. “Smile, Phoebe,” he whispered.
She cast him a sheepish grin and drew a long breath, striving for patience. She caught a glimpse of Sarah’s glowing face and a bit of guilt tempered her excitement. This was Sarah’s day after all. While Phoebe was certain her friend would understand the prospect of falling in love, she may not approve of her choice in men. Phoebe locked eyes with her friend and quickly crossed the room to join her.
“Oh, Phoebe,” Sarah gushed, grasping her hands. “I cannot remember a day when I’ve smiled so much.”
Phoebe laughed, pulling her friend in for a quick hug. “You deserve this, Sarah. I wish you every happiness.” She pulled back and opened the satin reticule dangling from her wrist. “I made these for you and Nick.” She removed the hand-painted miniatures.
Sarah gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Phoebe, they’re beautiful! The likenesses are uncanny.”
“For when he’s away. Though we won’t think of such today.” Phoebe grinned. “Today is your wedding day.”
Sarah grabbed Phoebe in another impulsive hug. “This means the world to me, Phoebe. I shall cherish it always.”
Phoebe gave her a loving squeeze. “I’m glad.”
“I must show these to Nicholas right away.” Sarah hurried away, weaving through the well-wishers toward her new husband.
Phoebe smiled, her heart warming as Sarah handed Nick the small likeness.
His gaze lifted to Phoebe’s and he nodded in acknowledgement and appreciation.
She waved in response, but a gaggle of women approached the newly weds, blocking Nick and Sarah from view. Without cognizance Phoebe found herself searching the room for James. He was gone. Her heart leapt as nervous energy shot through her veins. The time had come for their clandestine meeting.
Ten
Rain fell in a steady drizzle as Phoebe ran on foot to the cottage at the edge of her family’s property. Cold seeped through the wispy fabric of her gown, and the flimsy wrapper she’d draped over her head and shoulders did little to ward of the wet chill. Her heart hammered and her stomach churned with excitement.
What did James wish to tell her? She hardly dared to hope his affections mirrored her own. Would he kiss her again as he had beneath the tree? Would he press for other liberties? More importantly… would she resist him? Did she have the strength? Did she even want to?
A trickle of nerves traced her spine, but whatever trepidations she might experience, she felt no inclination to turn back or abandon this reckless endeavor.
The cottage came into view through the mist and drizzle. The door hung slightly ajar and her heart leapt. He’s already here. She drew a ragged breath, and rushed through the portal, throwing the wooden door back with such force it banged against the wall. The cottage interior was surprisingly tidy and well kept, leaving her to wonder who else used this as a haven for clandestine trysts. She glanced quickly about the tiny hut and spotted James immediately. Their eyes collided with physical force and thrills of awareness shivered over Phoebe’s cold skin. Soaked through, he appeared dangerous and rugged.
He stepped forward, gaze intent upon her, intensity and wonder glinting in his eyes. “You came,” he said in a deep husky tone that reached into her core.
“Of course,” she whispered breathlessly.
He strode the remaining few feet between them and scooped her up in an impulsive embrace. His powerful arms consumed her. “You shouldn’t have,” he whispered. His breath bl
ew hot and heavy in her ear.
“Perhaps not, but I wanted to.” She trembled, curling her arms around his neck. “What is it you wished to tell me, James?”
He settled her feet back to the floor, dragging his palms possessively down her curves and pressed his forehead to hers. “A dispatch rider carried my orders in yesterday—”
A gust of wind tore through the cabin, startling them both.
“By damn that’s cold!” James released her from his arms and quickly crossed the room to shut the door. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his eyes to her. His expression grew somber. “I ride out tomorrow. I’ve been ordered back to the war.”
Devastated, Phoebe swayed on her feet. “So soon?” Visions of him charging into battle with hundreds of muskets and sabers aimed at his heart seared her mind. “Oh, James!” She ran forward and threw her arms around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to go.”
He gathered her up, linking his arms intimately around her middle. “And I have no wish to leave you.” After a moment he lifted his head. Their eyes locked and sheer magic lit the moment. “Phoebe…” her name fell from his lips like a favored delicacy and hunger flamed in his amber eyes.
Phoebe sighed. Lost. She could drown in those intoxicating eyes. Drink from them.
The low burning desire in her belly built to an all-consuming fervor. Restless with unfulfilled passions, Phoebe twined her fingers through the hair at his nape, pulling him down, and raking his lips in a sizzling kiss.
Without further urging he crushed his mouth to hers in a voraciously possessive kiss that matched her own greedy need. She leaned fully against his chest and tightened her hold around his shoulders for fear she’d crumble to the floor in a heap of sensation and longing. She needn’t have worried, however, James dipped an arm beneath her knees and in the next moment she was floating.
James crossed to the bed at the back of the crofters hut in three long strides.
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