by Andrea Kane
She was fine. The realization dissolved his worry instantly. She was also stark naked and more exquisite than his most erotic fantasy had allowed. Desire exploded like cannon fire through his bloodstream, nearly driving him to his knees.
“I didn’t see you on deck. It made me uneasy. I …” He broke off, unable to continue. With one swift gesture he kicked the door closed behind him, then moved to the side of the tub.
Alex felt her face growing warm. “Well, I’m perfectly fine, as you can see,” she answered in a soft, breathless voice. “So, if you will excuse me, I’ll continue with my bath … Oh, Drake … don’t.”
He had dropped down beside the tub and was sliding his fingers through her thick, wet hair. “I have to,” he whispered. “It may be the last time I get to hold you.”
He covered her mouth with his. Her lips were warm, wet, trembling. He groaned, half lifting her from the water to pull her against him. The water sloshed all around them, drenching his white lawn shirt and trickling to the floor in thin streams.
Alex caught his arms for support. “I’m getting you wet,” she whispered inanely, unable to catch her breath.
“I don’t care.”
“But Drake … your shirt …”
“Fine.” He held her with one strong arm and reached around with the other to tear off his sodden shirt and drop it on the floor. “There. Now you need not be concerned about my ruined shirt.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but pressed her soft, pliant body against him.
It was a mistake. He knew it the moment he felt her soft breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest. It was the first time their naked skin had touched. And he was unprepared for the impact.
Alex’s soft moan intensified the violent shudder that seized Drake’s body as wild, scorching flames leapt to life, igniting an inferno between them that could not be extinguished. He could feel her heart hammering against his, her hold on his forearms tightening, then sliding up to his shoulders.
“Oh, Drake,” she whispered in a soft, husky voice that shattered his control.
Without a word he brought her face up to his, parting her lips and moving his mouth back and forth over hers in a kiss of savage need and possession. He took her tongue, her mouth, her breath, and made them his. Gently, almost reverently, he slid his hands up and down her back, stroking her, urging her closer, feeling her body shiver with each touch.
This time was different. This time Alex was responding to him with the same utter desperation, the same bottomless craving that gnawed at Drake’s soul—because this would be the last time.
He tore his mouth from hers, gazing down into her smoky gray eyes. “Alex,” he said in a hoarse voice, “I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone in my life. If I had my way, I would carry you to that bed right now and bury myself so deep inside you that you would know just how much.” He shook his head, staring at her with a look of utter amazement. “God, how I want to be the one to unlock the passion that’s inside you, to teach you what that beautiful body of yours is capable of feeling.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “But that can’t be. We both know that, don’t we, love?”
Confusion warred with passion in her dazed expression. “Drake, I want—”
“I know what you want, princess—at least what you want right now. But in less than an hour I have to deliver you into your father’s very proper hands. Can you go to him, begin your new life, knowing that you just came from my bed?” He shook his head again. “I don’t think so, love. Nor could I look at myself with anything short of disdain if I were to take advantage of you right now.” Absently he stroked a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. “I must be insane,” he murmured softly, “but if I don’t stop now I won’t be able to stop at all. The feel of you in my arms …” He paused again, this time lowering her back into the tub. “You’d better finish your bath.” He smiled a little at her obvious disorientation. “I’ll wait for you on deck.”
“Drake.” The softly spoken name made him pause, his hand on the door, his back to her.
“Yes?”
“I … thank you.”
She couldn’t see the pained expression on his face, the torment in his eyes. “I suppose even we lowly sea captains have a shred of decency in us,” he managed.
Her next words made him stiffen. “My father is a very generous man. You won’t be sorry.”
He turned slowly, the eyes that had bathed her in warm green light now glittered with chips of emerald ice. “My beautiful, passionate princess, I already am.”
He slammed the door behind him.
Chapter 11
LADY ALEXANDRIA CASSEL WAS back.
The men stared open-mouthed as she glided toward them, draped in all the finery of a noblewoman. Those sailors who were wearing hats instantly removed them.
Alex waved away their formalities, then smiled fondly. “Please don’t. Nothing has changed. You are still my friends, and I have enjoyed every minute of this voyage with you.” She wrinkled her nose at some private memories of the crew’s antics. “Well, almost every minute,” she amended. She was rewarded with a few chuckles, though the men still seemed ill at ease.
“I want to thank all of you for making me feel like a part of La Belle. It was a privilege I shall never forget.” She said good-bye to each man in turn, from the warm face of Jeremy Cochran to the worshipful expression of young Thomas Greer. Finally she met the tender, dark gaze of the first mate.
“Smitty, the only way I can bid farewell to you without disgracing myself shamefully is by telling myself that we will meet again,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hands. “I don’t doubt it, my lady. Not for a moment.”
“Thank you for everything, Smitty.” On an impulse she stood on tiptoe and kissed his weathered cheek. “I love you.”
He looked as if he might cry. “Godspeed, my lady. Until we meet again.”
She nodded, then turned to disembark.
The impeccably dressed, devastatingly handsome man who reached up to assist her could not have been Drake Barrett.
But it was.
His features carefully schooled, Drake drew Alex to the dock beside him, releasing her hand as soon as she was steady on her feet.
Alex was astonished. From the tips of his shiny boots to his perfectly tied snowy cravat to the superbly tailored coat and breeches, Drake looked every inch a gentleman.
“You can close your mouth now, princess,” he drawled. “You look different, too.”
And she did. How could he have forgotten the staggering effect of the breathtaking woman he had found in his cabin last March? Soon Alex would have more suitors than she knew what to do with.
Drake wanted to choke each and every one of them.
Then he reminded himself of her earlier behavior, not in his arms but afterward, and his resolve strengthened. He wanted no woman in his life—now or ever.
Alex sensed his anger, and she had a good idea of its source. The instant the patronizing words about her father’s wealth had left her mouth she wanted to retract them. But she had felt so off balance, throbbing with some unfulfilled need that she did not understand. Yet he had been able to distance himself so easily, recover so completely. That reality had hurt.
She looked up at him now, wonder softening her gaze. Today he looked every bit the proper English gentleman … and still his blazing sexuality burned through.
“Welcome to York, princess,” he continued, his expression carefully impassive. “You can finally cast your illusions aside and get a close look at your chosen home.”
The town immediately captivated Alex’s senses. The smell of fish permeated the air, the sounds of the farmers’ market mingled with the shouts of the sailors unloading their cargo. Women with baskets moved about, purchasing fruits and vegetables from tables piled high with mouthwatering delicacies. In the distance Alex could see streets crowded with strolling townspeople.
She was enthralled.
Drake watched the exuberance of Al
ex’s unguarded expression. He knew she had grown up in the lap of luxury, never mingling with commoners, and yet her reaction was anything but the one he had expected.
“I’ll arrange for transportation to take us to your father at once,” he began, only to be stopped by her small hand on his arm.
“Oh, Drake, don’t. I want to see everything, learn everything about Upper Canada! Couldn’t we walk?” She lifted her determined chin and he wondered briefly if that was a request or an order. “Also, I’ve just spent months on a rolling deck, and now it feels wonderful to have solid ground beneath my feet again. I realize riding would be faster, but … please?”
He gave her a grudging smile. “Why not? The streets are so clogged with carts that we will travel just as fast on foot.”
Actually the idea of walking appealed to Drake. He told himself that he needed a change of scene, anyway. The pleasure he was feeling had nothing to do with the additional time he would be spending with Alexandria.
The little shops, the tradesmen, and the plainly clothed women, their heads covered by large bonnets, seemed to fascinate Alex. Drake smiled in spite of himself as she began to fire questions at him.
“What was that great stone structure I saw in the distance?” she asked suddenly.
“That was Fort York.”
She looked up at him as they strolled along a footpath, moving steadily away from the more congested streets.
“Is that where you went when we first docked?”
“Yes, princess, that’s where I went.”
“Then Major General Brock’s offices are there?”
He nodded. “Why are you so interested in my meeting with Brock?”
“Because you were obviously disturbed when you returned. I merely wondered—”
“I had other reasons to be disturbed,” he reminded her.
She blushed but refused to be put off. “You were in a dark mood before we … before you …”
“I know what we did, princess. And, yes, you’re right. I was in a foul mood after my meeting with Brock.”
“Is the situation worse, then?” she asked anxiously.
Drake shrugged. “I don’t know. No information was imparted to me.”
“You believe there will be war.”
Drake started. He had forgotten how astute his little spitfire could be. Well, he wouldn’t lie to her.
“Yes, I believe there will be war.”
“Why?” She looked more curious than alarmed.
He should have known better than to worry about frightening her. “Because,” he explained, “the Americans will not be content with their independence from England. Among their leaders are certain greedy expansionists who believe Canada will be an easy conquest because England is too preoccupied with Napoleon to intervene. But they are wrong. With our passage to Europe blocked, England needs Canada’s vital resources more than ever. And Canada neither needs nor wants to belong to the States. The situation is highly volatile.”
He stopped abruptly, watching Alex’s face for a reaction.
“Perhaps you are judging the Americans too harshly,” she returned.
“And how is that?” Drake’s brows went up. How typical of Alex to defend the fledgling nation. She undoubtedly saw some parallel between the “oppressed” Americans and herself.
Her next words confirmed his opinion.
“Perhaps the Americans are guilty not of greed but merely of enjoying their newfound freedom, of reveling in their limitless opportunities. The British presence on their continent must unnerve them.”
She had a way of making a power-hungry nation sound like an innocent colt that had just discovered his legs and learned to walk. Drake understood, better than Alex realized, her abhorrence of repression. She had suffered from it all her life … as had he.
Unfortunately this was different.
“I agree that the British presence in Canada must make the Americans uneasy,” he countered. “But having fought for their own independence, they should respect the right of self-determination in another nation, not try to usurp that right, as I am convinced they intend to do.”
“I hope you are wrong,” Alex said sadly.
“So do I, princess.”
They walked on in silence past a section of modest two-story homes. Then gradually the buildings grew more grand. Drake pointed to a huge frame structure at the end of the street. Its graceful balconies and ornate fence bespoke wealth and power.
Alex did not need to ask where they were. Grim anticipation seized her, and without realizing it, she reached for Drake’s hand, seeking comfort and strength.
Immediately Drake’s own larger hand closed around it, enfolding her trembling fingers in his warmth. “Your journey is over, Alexandria,” he said softly.
Alex had a sudden overwhelming urge to run—anywhere—and hide. The security of La Belle Illusion felt far away, as did England. In mere moments Drake would be gone as well, and she would be alone with her father’s coldness and disapproval. This was the part of the journey she had refused to think about. But it could be avoided no longer.
She turned to Drake. “I know you are eager to return to your ship and prepare for your journey back to England.” She paused. “I am not sure how to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Everything?” He cupped her chin tenderly and was rewarded with a faint stain of color on her cheeks. “Save your good-byes, princess,” he continued. “You will continue to be my responsibility until I place you safely in your father’s hands.” He didn’t add that seeing her free spirit so tightly reined both pained and angered him. There was not a chance that he would allow her to face Geoffrey Cassel alone. The reasons did not matter; he would be there for her.
Alex smiled, seeing the reasons very clearly. “Thank you, Drake.”
“Don’t thank me until we’ve spoken to your father,” he warned. “I do not anticipate a warm welcome.”
She looked startled. “You know my father?”
“We’ve met.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Why the surprise, princess? I do make frequent trips to Upper Canada. It is only natural that I should know its governor. Or did you think I mingled only with commoners?”
“No,” came the rebellious reply. “I am only surprised that you hadn’t mentioned it before.”
Drake shrugged. “The subject never came up.” He nudged her forward. “Come, my lady. It is time to pay the piper.”
She gave him a scathing look, a direct contrast to the way she clung to his hand as they walked through the formidable gates that protected the governor’s mansion.
A pinch-faced butler answered their summons, then calmly advised them to wait in the library while he informed Lord Sudsbury of their arrival.
Drake leaned against the heavy oak bookcases and watched Alex pace back and forth. He was more than a little curious to see how she would react when she confronted her father, who possessed about as much warmth as a Greenland iceberg. Yet, surely with his daughter …
Drake had no time to finish his thought. The library door was flung open so forcefully that vibrations of the impact resounded throughout the room.
The man who strode in was of average height and lean build. His hair was several shades darker than Alex’s, his eyes the same unusual hue as his daughter’s, but while Alex’s eyes were warm with sunlight, bright with spirit, Geoffrey’s were wintry cold, devoid of tenderness. And at the moment there were thunderclouds in their slate gray depths.
“When your mother’s message arrived by England’s fastest military vessel, I assumed it was an hysterical reaction on her part,” he fumed, walking toward her with slow, menacing steps. “I hoped it was all a mistake. But I should have known better, shouldn’t I, Alexandria? After eighteen years of blatant disobedience I should have expected no better from you!”
Alex flinched. “Father, this has nothing to do with disobedience. I begged you to bring me to York with you; you know I did. But you and Mother refused, over
and over.”
“Yet you came anyway. If that is not disobedience, what would you call it?” he roared.
Drake was amazed. He had expected to see annoyance, possibly anger, but not this callous chastisement prior even to listening to the facts surrounding Alex’s behavior.
Such treatment, however, was not unfamiliar to Alex. She was well aware that in her father’s eyes she was one colossal disappointment. But it didn’t matter. Ultimately she would make her way without his support. She always had.
“I wanted to begin a new life, Father,” she answered, straightening her spine and meeting his livid gaze. “And since you would not assist me, I found my own way of getting to Canada.”
“You are insolent, impulsive, and headstrong, but you are also resourceful, Alexandria. ’Tis a pity you were not born a man. Then—”
“Then you would have the son you always wanted and Mother never provided,” she concluded in a weary voice. “No, I am not a man, Father. But I am resourceful, as you pointed out. Captain Barrett was kind enough to provide me with passage”—she gestured toward Drake, who brazenly stared at Geoffrey, waiting for his reaction—“and I was able to achieve my goal without mishap. I am sorry my appearance here displeases you.”
Geoffrey’s startled eyes flew to Drake, seeing him for the first time. His shock escalated into fury. Then storm gray fused with ice green.
“Lord Sudsbury,” Drake acknowledged Geoffrey’s presence with stiff formality.
“Barrett, what sort of nonsense is my daughter spouting?”
Drake inclined his head slightly. “Alexandria is making herself quite clear.”
Alex winced at her father’s murderous expression. “Father,” she hastily intervened, “please don’t be rude. The men aboard La Belle Illusion were extremely kind and respectful, as was Captain Barrett.”
Geoffrey’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Alex feared it might snap. “So, kind and respectful Captain Barrett accompanied you to York, did he?”
Alex looked stunned by her father’s scathing tone. Drake did not.
“Yes, father, he did.”
