Siren

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  She patted his arm. “That is very sweet, James, but I will leave this room when I’m Mrs. James Witherspoon, and not a moment before.”

  * * * *

  Belly full and exhaustion settling over her like a lead blanket, Phoebe perched on the edge of the bed at the inn, staring down at the ring on her finger. The deep blue gem sparkled in the sunlight.

  I’m a married woman!

  The reality of it refused to sink in. So much had happened in the last day that her mind and emotions were desperately running to catch up. Despite the cautious happiness warming her from the inside out, lingering worries continued to dampen her spirits. So much remained undecided, and what if Edward never forgave her? The thought of never being allowed to return to her childhood home left an ache in her heart that she feared may never dull.

  The door creaked, jarring her attention as James entered the room. He dropped their belongings onto the wooden floor with a thud, and kicked the door shut. “Sam is stabled and I plan to leave for my uncle’s estate as soon as we’ve had a little rest.” He faced Phoebe with an easy smile.

  Her heart threatened to melt. How could he look so chipper, carefree and perfectly handsome after all that had happened? It simply wasn’t fair. She’d glimpsed herself in the mirror, and she was a wreck.

  The smile quickly slipped from his face. Brow furrowed with concern, James loosened the buttons of his uniform jacket, revealing a simple white shirt, and dropped the coat over the back of an empty chair. Crossing the small room, he sank onto the mattress and slid an arm around her, tugging her close. “What’s this?” he asked softly. “You hardly portray the countenance of a bubbly blushing bride. Is something the matter?”

  “No,” she lied, staring at his abandoned coat across the room. “I-I’m just tired.” Closing her eyes, she relaxed into his hold. It felt so good to be close to him. To be touched and held. The warmth of his skin seeped through the thin layer of his white shirt, bringing back the memories and feelings she’d valiantly sought to lock away. Absently she spun the ring on her finger, afraid that once she fell asleep she’d wake up back in the cottage, alone and unmarried. “After a sound nap I’ll feel less—” her voice cracked as all the suppressed fears, emotions and loneliness… oh the awful loneliness… welled up and threatened to explode. “—less… less—” It was too much. She didn’t even know what she’d meant to say as months of anguish strained against her internal dam. She choked back a sob as a few tears tumbled onto her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t mean to be like this. So much has happened and I—”

  “It’s all right,” James murmured, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her across his lap. “Just let it out.”

  She looped her arms around his neck, and sobbed. He was so solid and warm. She never wanted to let go. “I-I thought you were dead,” she cried. “When I saw your name on the casualty roster I died inside.” At the time she’d already been so hurt and angry, she’d desperately walled off every emotion possible. Now that she’d softened to him, the walls were crumbling, and the wealth of quelled grief poured out. Much as she hated to cry, she simply couldn’t hold the tide back.

  “Oh, Phoebe,” he whispered into her hair. “This is my doing.”

  Slowly the tears ebbed, and she shook her head against his chest. “It’s not only your fault, James. I behaved carelessly and now we must make the best of things.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry about Edward,” James said after a moment.

  Phoebe pulled back and met his gaze. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “You always seem to know exactly what I’m thinking. How did you know I was thinking of Edward?”

  James flashed a small secretive smile though his eyes remained serious. “He will forgive you, Phoebe, I’m sure of it.”

  She sighed, dropping her gaze to the button at the top of his shirt. Absently she ran her fingers over it. “What if he doesn’t? He is my only family.”

  James shifted and palmed her cheek, tilting her face so that she faced him directly. His warm whiskey eyes held her captive. “No, Phoebe, I am your family now. Today and forever.”

  Her heart stumbled, threatening to arrest altogether.

  Slowly James leaned down, his warm breath whispering over her lips, until he pressed the lightest kiss against her mouth. “Give me your heart, Phoebe.”

  Her pulse stuttered. Give me your heart… the words smoothed over her lonely spirit like music on a moonlit night. Lips burning, her gaze dropped to his mouth. Oh, how she wanted another taste… to give in to the perfect dream he offered…

  “Give me your heart. I swear, I’ll never disappoint you again.”

  Twenty-two

  Phoebe rose slowly from the dregs of sleep, more than a little disoriented after a sound, dreamless slumber. Thoroughly disoriented, she blinked against the unfamiliar surroundings, mentally wading through the thick fog surrounding her brain. She didn’t even remember falling to sleep or having climbed into bed. Vaguely she recalled strong arms and hands…

  The sheets rustled beside her.

  Heart pounding, Phoebe snapped to a full state of wakefulness as memories of the last day streamed through her mind.

  James!

  She lifted her left hand in front of her face. The sapphire in her ring twinkled in the sunlight. Elation swelled. It hadn’t been a dream. She wasn’t back at the cottage. She was in Scotland with James. Married. The relief washing through her spoke volumes. She’d made the right choice. Clasping her hands against her breast she drew a few steadying breaths, willing her racing pulse to slow.

  Finally, she turned her head to the side. James… her husband… lay on his stomach, still sound asleep. Careful not to shake the bed, she rose up on an elbow, propping her head on her hand, allowing her gaze to sift over him. He was a fine specimen of a man. Not only was he recklessly handsome, but he sported a warrior’s physique. Smooth, swarthy skin sheathed the powerful, perfectly defined muscles rolling along his arms and torso. A large silvery scar marred his right shoulder, and Phoebe shivered with the physical reminder of how close she’d come to having him stripped from this world.

  Give me your heart…

  His tender plea rolled through her mind, sending little flutters through her veins and straight to her heart. The words seemed to seed there.

  Give me your heart…

  With a little nurturing her heart would be more than open… it would be bursting with affection and love. Was James up to the task? Was she?

  Tentatively she reached out and grazed her fingertips over the marred flesh.

  James stirred and opened his eyes. After a few seconds his sleep clouded gaze focused in on her and a slow smile stretched over his face. He stretched an arm out and snared her about the waist, drawing her snuggly against his side. “Good morning, wife.” He nuzzled her neck and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Or is it the evening now?”

  Once more her pulse jumped to a run. She wore only her shift and every heated inch of his taut frame melted through the thin fabric, branding her with the intimate pose. “The evening I believe,” she replied more than a little breathlessly.

  His palm slid possessively along her side and then across the slight swell of her belly. “And good evening to you too… Samuel.”

  “Samuel?”

  “Yes. I’m trying out names, and Samuel is one I am quite fond of.”

  Phoebe laughed, spirit skipping with happiness. “But your horse is named Sam. You cannot name our child after a horse.”

  James met her gaze, eyes twinkling with good humor. “I resent that logic. My horse has more character than half of the people I know, and besides, Sam’s full name is not Samuel… it’s Sampson.”

  Phoebe threaded her fingers through James’s hair, enjoying the intimacy and the ease of their conversation. “Sampson? Did you not once lecture me on the folly of giving horses uppity names?”

  He lifted his head, gazing down
at her with an irresistible grin. “Which is why I call him, Sam. No need for him to know he has an uppity name.”

  Phoebe laughed again. Truly, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. Probably not since last spring when her romance with James had first budded.

  He winked. “But now that you mention it. We’d best not name our children anything unusual. Perhaps we’ll name this one John.”

  “Mm hm, and what if she is a girl.”

  “Anne.”

  Phoebe tilted her head, surprised by how readily the name came to his lips. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

  He sobered, expression remaining soft. “Since the moment I learned of my impending fatherhood.”

  Their eyes connected for a long moment. A warm flush crept through Phoebe. She believed him. He wanted to be with her, and to make a family together. He hadn’t walked away when given the chance.

  “I was thinking,” he murmured, shifting so that he lay half on top of her. “There is no need to leave for my uncle’s estate this evening.” He dropped a kiss to the tender flesh where her throat met her jaw, and his fingers nimbly danced along the ruffle at the top of her shift. “We could stay another night here.”

  Little shivers glided along her spine as James skimmed his palm down her side and across her hip to the very edge of her shift. Her heart skipped a beat as his calloused fingers dipped beneath the hem and breezed over the bare flesh of her thigh. Excitement and desire flared to life in her blood. She remembered this… the exhilaration of his touch… the absolute bliss of being held in his lover’s embrace. In all the madness to follow their first forbidden encounter she’d all but forgotten how perfect it felt to lie with him. The perfection of simply being in his presence.

  Phoebe took his face in her hands, searching his eyes. “I would be more than willing to stay here so long as we don’t leave this bed.”

  James grinned roguishly before taking her mouth in a hungry kiss. “Make me an offer like that and we may not leave tomorrow either.”

  * * * *

  Late afternoon sunshine bathed the Viscount Huntington’s lovely manor house in golden rays, creating a picturesque view that left Phoebe itching to paint. Large leafy trees lined the road and beautiful flowering hedges decorated the yard. Excited, Phoebe slid her arm through James’s and glanced up at him. Their eyes connected and they shared a warm smile.

  “Do you suppose there are any art supplies at your uncle’s house?” she asked. “I’d love to paint this scene. It is absolutely beautiful.”

  James laughed. “The poor man has seven daughters. I have no doubt there are art supplies of some kind here.”

  Phoebe too laughed and shifted her attention back to the house as they approached.

  The front door opened and a few staff members trickled out to greet them. One woman of perhaps fifty grinned from ear to ear. “Master Jamie,” she called as James drew the cart to a halt before the stone steps. “We’ve been expecting you for days now.”

  James swung down from the cart with a boyish grin on his face. It pleased Phoebe to see him so lighthearted and genuinely happy. “Forgive me, Mrs. Hansen, but we were delayed.”

  “Well, you might have written, my boy. We were beginning to worry.”

  James turned and assisted Phoebe out of the cart. Keeping an arm firmly about her waist he turned her toward the staff. “Mrs. Hansen, I’d like you to meet my wife, Lady Phoebe,” more than a little pride touched his voice. “Lady Phoebe, this is my uncle’s housekeeper, Mrs. Hansen.” He leaned close as though to divulge a secret, but spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “She’ll try to tell you that I’m responsible for every last gray hair on her head.”

  Mrs. Hansen laughed merrily. “Perhaps not all of them, but more than a few to be sure.”

  Phoebe grinned up at James. “I look forward to hearing some of those stories during our stay, Mrs. Hanson.”

  The smiling woman turned twinkling eyes to Phoebe. “It is a pleasure to have you here, my lady. I must apologize, no word of your wedding reached us until Colonel Witherspoon wrote to us a few weeks ago.”

  Phoebe slid James a calculating glance. He must have informed the staff that he intended to bring his wife for a visit even before coming to find her in the country. Her heart warmed with the knowledge.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself, Phoebe shifted her gaze back to Mrs. Hansen and smiled. “No need for apologies, Mrs. Hansen. It was a small affair.”

  The housekeeper’s smile widened. “Knowing this rascal, you most likely eloped before he went back to the war last spring.”

  “Something like that,” James interjected, giving Phoebe an affectionate squeeze. “Now then. Shall we get settled and have a little lunch?”

  Mrs. Hansen flipped a hand in the air. “Follow me. I have rooms all ready for you. If you anything isn’t to your liking say the word, and I’ll have it taken care of.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine.” James motioned for the footmen waiting by the steps and instructed them to carry their belongings upstairs and to stable Sam.

  Phoebe allowed James to escort her up the expansive stone stairs, relieved that no one here suspected the true circumstances of their marriage. As they stepped into the house she took in the brightly lit foyer, and then looked up to James. A weight lifted from her. He was already gazing down at her, eyes warm with affection. James looked so very happy, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be happy with him.

  * * * *

  The days at the Huntington Estate slid blissfully by, and James spent two weeks making up for months of lost time and courtship. Together they enjoyed long strolls through the countryside and ate almost every afternoon meal in the flourishing gardens. The estate was famed across England for it’s gardens, and blooms of every shade and variety lined the quaint walkways, and dripped from vines and trellises. Every evening James gathered a different collection of flowers, and had a bouquet waiting for Phoebe when they climbed into bed. Little by little she was opening up and beginning to relax.

  “I don’t suppose we could find a place in the country exactly like this to live?” Phoebe sighed wistfully, and slid her fingers through his, leaning in. “It’s so beautiful here.”

  He dropped a kiss to her brow. “We could certainly try. I can name any duty station I wish once I’ve recuperated and return to the Army.”

  “And how are you recuperating, Colonel?” Phoebe teased.

  “Well enough I should think, but I’ll need at least another month under my wife’s healing touch.”

  Phoebe laughed.

  “We should start discussing options,” he said more seriously.

  “Have you considered retiring?” she asked.

  “Retiring?” Caught off guard, James glanced down at Phoebe. “Well, no. Not particularly. I’ve been a soldier my whole adult life. What else would I do?”

  She slowed a fraction and met his gaze. “Well, I’ve been thinking about the future, our future, and I think we should raise horses.”

  “Horses? You mean start a breeding farm?”

  “Yes,” she replied enthusiastically. “You have such a wonderful way with animals. We could breed and raise horses, and you could train them. We could even ask Nick and Sarah Collins to join us in the endeavor.”

  Raise horses? The idea had merit. James certainly had no political future, nor did he want one. Now that he was a married man with a child on the way perhaps it was time he considered a future outside of the army.

  “Colonel Witherspoon!”

  James and Phoebe stopped in unison and turned toward the frantic call. A footman sprinted down the hedgerow with a second man, covered in road dust, following after him.

  “Colonel, an urgent message just arrived for you.”

  Concerned, James dropped Phoebe’s hand and strode forward. “Is it from General Boland?” he asked as the footman and the stranger stopped before them.

  “No, sir,” the second, dusty you
ng man replied breathlessly. He handed James a sealed letter. “I hail from Corsair. Your sister-in-law sent me.”

  Brow furrowed, James quickly opened the missive. Judith’s harried script leapt up at him.

  James,

  Your mother and Toby were in a terrible carriage accident. Come with all haste.

  —Judith

  “What is it?” worry laced Phoebe’s tone as she approached and laid a hand on his arm.

  “There’s been an accident,” he said, handing Phoebe the brief note. “We need to leave for Corsair immediately.”

  Twenty-three

  “Do you have any details of the accident?” James asked the rider. “Are my mother and nephew badly injured?”

  The messenger shook his head. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I have no other information. I was dispatched as soon as word arrived that there had been an accident.”

  James gritted his teeth. How like Judith to panic and send word without waiting to learn a few essential details. Or maybe it was an excuse to bring him home. She’d obviously been disappointed when he’d left so soon after returning from the war. She wasn’t getting over her infatuation as quickly as he’d hoped. She likely wouldn’t take word of his marriage well either. Regardless, she could have easily sent the message after she’d discerned if his mother and Toby had broken any bones? Or worse…

  The thought sickened him. James flew to action. He turned to the footman. “Have my horse and curricle readied immediately. My wife and I will be leaving within the hour.” Turning on a heel he stalked toward the house, consumed with fear.

  “James? James!” Phoebe grabbed his arm, forcing him to check his stride and face her. Worry etched her brow. “I realize there is no time to waste, but I can’t go back to Corsair with you. You’ll have to go yourself.”

  He glanced impatiently toward the house. “Why can’t you go with me?”