Siren

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  She nodded.

  James dropped his arm. “You are a good woman, Judith. Happiness is waiting for you. If it can find me… it can find anyone.”

  Without waiting for a response, James stepped past her and retired to his bedchamber feeling strangely at peace. A great many demons were being aired tonight. He hoped Phoebe was still awake, he hoped to speak with her about it. He opened the chamber door and was not disappointed. He spotted her leaning against the windowsill, staring into the velvety night.

  She didn’t immediately notice his entrance and he paused for a moment to visually caress her. The glorious length of her hair poured unbound down her back and the luscious curls gleamed like silver and gold in the soft lamplight. She’d donned a simple white nightgown that flowed elegantly about her figure. He ached at the sight of her, marveling that the woman before him was actually his wife.

  Siren…

  The pet name whisked through his mind as he visually caressed the enticing curves of her body. She was a siren in every sense of the word.

  A weighty sigh escaped her as she reached out to trace a finger across the wavy window glass.

  James knew instinctively that she was gazing through the window at the massive Corsair keep. He shifted his gaze past Phoebe to the impressive castle jutting into the moonlit sky. Quietly he closed the door and stepped further into the room. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots.

  Phoebe turned, a little smile tilting the corner of her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.

  “Liar,” he teased, crossing the room, and linking both arms around her middle.

  Phoebe laughed. “Excuse me, sir, but what cause do you have to call me a liar?” She leaned back into his chest, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

  He sobered slightly and nodded toward the window. “You weren’t missing me, Siren. You were missing home.”

  She sighed, glancing away. “Perhaps I was missing a bit of both.”

  James dropped a kiss to her neck, and hugged her close. “I know it’s hard for you to be here, Phoebe.”

  She sighed, turning in his arms and looping both arms around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder. “Being here isn’t difficult. It’s pretending I’m invisible.” She slid her hands down his shoulders. “There are so many people I want to see while we’re here, but I know that I have to stay hidden.”

  “Phoebe, you know I’d love nothing more than to march down the street in broad daylight with you on my arm and announce to the world, and Corsair, that you are my wife.” He rested his chin on top of her head, curling his arms more securely around her middle. “That being said, I understand that you don’t wish to cast a shadow over your family name so we will continue to handle things delicately, but why don’t we send a note to your brother tomorrow simply letting him know you’re here.”

  “He won’t come,” Phoebe replied sadly.

  “Perhaps not, but it’s an olive branch. All we can do is keep extending them.”

  Wordlessly Phoebe nodded against his shoulder.

  “Have I told you today that I love you,” he whispered, turning his face into the sweetly scented waves of her hair. Gently he brushed her hair aside and pressed soft kisses against her skin. Nervous, he waited to see if she’d return the sentiment.

  Phoebe trembled as he caressed the sensitive flesh of her neck with his lips, but she said nothing in response.

  The fact she hadn’t returned the declaration hurt. James knew he still had a lot of ground to cover before she forgave him fully, but by damn their marriage was going well! He’d spent several weeks being a model husband, and now he was hungry for her love. He longed to hear the words I love you from her sweet lips. He longed for reassurance that she’d accepted him, not simply married him to keep their babe.

  He heightened the sensual assault on her. He knew exactly how to arouse her passions. Surely it was only a matter of time before he coaxed the declaration from her in the heat of a lovers’ storm. “Phoebe,” he murmured huskily. Seductively, his strong palms traced the slight curve of her belly and then down her hips. “You are so perfect.”

  “Oh, James,” she moaned, tracing her palms down the toned camber of his chest. “Take me to bed. I need… I need to feel you tonight.” She tilted her head and crushed her mouth to his in a devastating kiss that left him reeling as she turned to absolute fire in his arms.

  He lifted her roughly, losing himself in the intensity of the desire pulsing through him, and carried her to the bed without breaking the bond of their lips. He set her on the mattress, and she tugged him down with her, surrendering her body completely.

  Joining with her that night was perfection. Physically she denied him nothing, but the words he longed for… the confirmation of her love that he craved never once slipped from her lips.

  Twenty-four

  James woke to find Phoebe perched on the side of the bed, combing her fingers through the tangled expanse of her hair. Sunlight streamed through the window, lending a golden sheen to her flawless skin and shimmering hair.

  Hungry to hold her again, he leaned forward and snared her about the waist, drawing her back into the bed.

  Phoebe giggled as he settled her against the mattress and rolled above her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her haunting eyes locked with his and she smiled up at him gently. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry. Any morning I wake to the sight of you, is a gift.”

  A light flush rose in her cheeks and her eyes twinkled with the compliment. “I was thinking about what you said last night,” she said after a moment.

  “Oh? What was that?” For the life of him he couldn’t quite remember what they’d discussed.

  “I think I would like to extend an olive branch to my brother and let him know I’m here. Maybe he’s had time to cool off and is just waiting for me to reach out.”

  James smiled. Her optimism was one of the things he loved about her. She always believed the best of people… himself included. “By all means. There is ink and paper in the desk by the wall. Write the letter and I’ll have it sent over first thing this morning.”

  Phoebe beamed and rolled quickly from the bed. She rushed to the desk and began opening the top drawers.

  James folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the current view of her backside. He hoped things went well with her brother. All he wanted was her happiness. If her brother forgave her, likely much of her shame would heal.

  Across the room Phoebe froze, head bent as she stared into an open drawer. Ever so slowly she dipped her hand within.

  Oh, no… Oh, bloody hell! Pure ice flushed through his veins and he shot upright in bed. She must have found it. He’d all but forgotten about stashing the dreaded relic there after his uncle’s funeral last spring. “Phoebe…”

  She spun to face him, expression a mask of horror. Betrayal and sadness bled from her eyes. Her lips parted but no words came out as she lifted the Heart of the Nile up for him to see. “You lied to me, James. You did it, didn’t you? Y-you killed my brother.”

  “No, Phoebe, I didn’t. I swear it. I swear it on my father’s grave.”

  “Then why do you have this?” The long chain slipped through her fingers until the jeweled pendent swung hypnotically before her. “It went missing the night Patrick died. We always assumed that whoever murdered him had also stolen the pendant.” Her gaze drifted from James to the necklace, and then back again. “It was you,” she said with quiet conviction. “I am such a naïve fool.”

  “I did not kill Patrick,” he defended firmly.

  “Stop, James. Stop lying to me!”

  “Tobias did it,” he blurted, speaking the truth aloud for the first time in fifteen years.

  Phoebe’s wary gaze drilled into him. “Your brother?”

  Heart pounding, James drew a steadying breath as he prepared to divulge the secret he’d kept for so long. “Yes.”

  Phoebe’s expression faltered as a combination of sadness and hope
washed through her pale eyes. “D-do you know what happened to my brother?”

  “Yes,” he affirmed, tone grave as long stuffed away memories rose to the surface of his mind. He gulped. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the dew damp grass and woods from that night… he could still hear his brother’s laughter ringing in his ears… and Patrick’s angry shouts…

  “Tell me,” Phoebe’s strangled words interrupted his miserable thoughts.

  Where to begin… James sighed, and shifted to the edge of the bed keeping the sheet around his waist. He raked both hands through his hair and faced Phoebe. “Sit,” he invited.

  “Talk.” She didn’t budge from her place standing beside the desk.

  He knew better than to argue, and slowly began the awful tale. “As I’ve told you, my uncle and I never got along, but, more than that, he was a very difficult man to please. One night, about fifteen years ago, Tobias and I got it into our heads that we’d sneak into the Corsair Castle, steal the Heart of the Nile, and do my uncle proud by bringing it back to him. It would have been one hell of a prank if the prized attraction went missing before the grand Corsair ball.” James remembered that doomed scheme all too well. Just once he’d wanted to find himself in his uncle’s good graces. He’d thought it might stop the fighting between them and make his mother happy as well. “Being young, stupid, and impulsive, we snuck out during the night, and climbed into the castle through an unlocked window. We knew from town gossip where the jewel was displayed in the house, and found it without too much trouble.” His eyes drifted to the cursed artifact clutched in Phoebe’s hand. The Egyptian pendent caught the morning light eerily, casting blue-hued prisms across the floor. “I remember being disappointed when I saw it. It was much smaller than I’d expected given all the excitement about it.” He shook his head, focusing on the tale. “We were leaving,” he continued, “climbing out of another window, when Patrick found us. We all went to school together so he recognized us and guessed what we were about immediately. Tobias jumped through the window.” James shifted his gaze from the necklace to Phoebe. “I dropped the necklace right on the floor. We were caught so there was no point in taking it. Then I followed Tobias through the window and we ran into the woods. After a few minutes Patrick caught up with us. Tobias and I were arguing and your brother must have overheard.”

  Phoebe paled, but otherwise remained solemn and still as he recounted the events.

  “Patrick was furious. Called us thieving Witherspoons, among other things, and he had a pistol.” James scrubbed his fingers through his hair, wishing with all his soul—as he had so many times—that he could turn the clocks back to that very moment in time. “He pointed it at me.”

  The miserable events cascaded vividly through his mind.

  “You miserable thieving bastards,” Patrick growled. Absolute hatred glittered in his eyes.

  James gulped, staring at the pistol trained on his chest. “Patrick, wait!”

  A brilliant flash and the wicked crack of gunfire cut him short.

  James flinched, fire slicing across his left upper arm.

  “He shot you?” Phoebe’s shocked question jerked James back to reality.

  He’d been so lost in the memory he hadn’t even realized he’d still been speaking aloud. “Yes,” he rasped, inadvertently lifting a hand to the faded scar where the bullet had grazed his arm all those years ago. “And then Tobias shot him.” James lifted a heavy gaze to Phoebe. “I didn’t even know my brother had brought a gun. Stealing the amulet was just supposed to be a prank, but suddenly I had blood pouring down my arm and Patrick…” he swallowed hard. “Patrick was dead.”

  James didn’t even need to close his eyes to conjure the image of Patrick lying on his back in the foliage, his lifeless eyes illuminated by the moonlight, the spent pistol still clutched in his right hand, and The Heart of the Nile laced through the fingers of his left.

  “Your brother shot him because he shot you,” Phoebe said quietly.

  James nodded. “Tobias was hysterical. I-I remember shaking him so hard I thought his neck might break just to get him to shut up. I told him to go home, replace his father’s dueling pistol, and never speak of it again.”

  “So you brought Patrick home and let everyone believe the worst of you to protect your brother.”

  “Yes.”

  Sadly, Phoebe gazed down at the famed artifact, rolling the heavy gold chain between her fingers. “Y-you said you dropped this before you left the house. Why do you have it now?”

  James shrugged. “Patrick must have picked it up before he followed us. He had it with him in the woods. I can’t tell you how many times I meant to throw it in the ocean or bury the cursed thing, but for whatever reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I’ve kept it hidden all these years so no one could fight over it again.”

  Phoebe remained silent for a long while. Finally, she raised wary, accusing eyes to him. “You’ve known the truth all this time, and never told me? My mother cried herself to sleep for years wondering what happened to her son. She died not knowing.” Phoebe shook her head, eyes raw with a combination of anguish and disbelief. “Don’t you think we deserved to know?”

  “I was seventeen years old, Phoebe. I didn’t know what to do. It was all a horrible mistake. Patrick was dead, and I didn’t want to see a second young life ruined.”

  “So you dumped my brother in front of our house and hid the amulet so no one would ever know the truth,” she accused.

  “Yes! There was already so much hate over that blasted jewel. I knew the truth would only lead to all out war between our families, and who would have believed us? Patrick, the heir to a dukedom was dead. With only Tobias and I to recount the events no one would have believed us. My brother would have been crucified. I couldn’t let that happen, Phoebe. He was my little brother.”

  Wordlessly Phoebe dropped the Heart of the Nile and strode to the closet. She yanked out a simple day dress and pulled it on right over her nightgown.

  James flew from the bed, grabbing her upper arm. “Don’t go, Phoebe. Be reasonable.”

  “Be reasonable?” She yanked away from him. “You’ve been lying to me for months.”

  “Because I knew this would happen.” Desperation filled him. If she walked out right now he’d lose her forever. The truth of it resonated to the depths of his soul. He reached for her again, but she jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me.” The wild look in her eyes warned him to keep his distance even though every fiber of his being screamed to take her in his arms and force her to see reason.

  She twirled her hair into a half-hazard knot and stabbed a single pin through it. “I can’t stay here, James. I feel like I’m suffocating.” She stuffed her feet into slippers, scooped a knitted wrapper off a chair, and fled the room.

  James stared miserably into the empty hall. Was there any hope that Phoebe might forgive him or had he lost her for good this time?

  * * * *

  Heart broken and battling tears, Phoebe dashed down the stairs desperate to escape the house and her lying husband. She didn’t care who saw or what questions might arise. At the moment she was simply desperate to escape the horrible memories and the lies she’d uncovered that morning. She flew through the front door and descended the steps at a run. She could only think of one place that might grant her a level of solace…

  The beach.

  Phoebe trekked hastily through the town, keeping to the outskirts to avoid notice. It was early enough that few people were out and about, but at this point she was beyond caring if people in her hometown recognized her, she just didn’t want to talk to anyone. She crested a hill and the ocean, lined with white powdery sand, stretched into oblivion before her. She sighed and slowed, veering off the road toward the shoreline.

  Dragging a deep breath into her lungs, she stumbled down the sandy embankment as tears finally overwhelmed her. She hugged the knitted wrapper around her and walked along the beach, reliving all that s
he’d learned that morning in her mind. Soon her slippers were filled with sand and she kicked them off, letting her toes sink into cool sand.

  Absently Phoebe bent and lifted a smooth white shell from the sand. Cool ocean air gently caressed her cheeks, and dried the tears on her cheeks. Surrounded by the serenity of the seaside she finally calmed enough to consider all that James had divulged.

  Patrick shot James… Tobias shot Patrick… James covered it all up to protect his brother…

  The way James described that night it was all a tragic comedy of errors. One that Patrick had played his part in. Silently she cursed both Tobias and Patrick for bringing pistols. Little good it did to be angry with them now, both those boys were dead.

  Tossing the shell into the water, she conjured an image of her oldest brother. She could well picture him charging from the house in a righteous fury. No one liked to think ill of the dead, but if truth be told, Patrick had had a vile temper. Edward’s disposition was mild in comparison to Patrick’s.

  James and his brother never should have attempted that prank, but they’d set out for mischief not malice, and Phoebe believed that.

  She startled with the realization that she did believe James. Wholly and completely. Now that the initial shock of finding The Heart of the Nile had ebbed she could see that more than anything she felt betrayed because he hadn’t seen fit to tell her the truth. After all they’d shared he should have told her. With a sigh she stopped and shifted her gaze back down the beach. Perhaps she should go back and discuss this with him further.

  “Lady Phoebe?”

  Startled she whirled, staring up the embankment at the lanky figure of a man. “Reverend Alistair! Y-you surprised me.”

  “I thought I saw you pass by the parish house,” he said, gazing at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “You’ve been away for some time.”

  Phoebe resisted the urge to squirm. “Yes, I—”

  “You’re with child,” Alistair observed in a strangely flat tone.