Captain Of Her Heart (24 page)

“There, there, brother.”  Dirk slapped Jason on the back.  “You must not lose faith.  All you need is a little polish and refinement.”

“Plus a boatload of blind luck.”  Everett shot Trevor a side-glance, and they collapsed in a fit of convulsive hilarity.

And so it was, with that vote of confidence, Jason returned to his townhouse, just as the sun had set.  Again standing in the foyer, he handed his coat, hat, and gloves to Haynes and lamented another night without Alex, relaxed in slumber, at his side.

Then Jason started and reversed course.  “Send for the coach, and have my trunks loaded, posthaste.  I depart for the country in half an hour.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The coach lurched to a halt, and Jason roused from a light sleep to discover he had arrived at Stratfield Manor.  Given the breakneck pace with which the coachman had driven the team, they had cut an hour off the usual journey and landed at the doorstep at the crack of dawn.

Pulling on his coat, Arnie appeared in the entry.  “Captain Collingwood, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Phipps.”  Jason stretched his back and yawned.  “Has my wife risen?”

“No, sir.”  The butler brushed his bangs from his face.  “Her ladyship sleeps late into the morning, as she is in her last month of pregnancy and requires additional rest.”

“Is she unwell?”  He clenched his gut at the prospect.  “Are there complications?”

“No, sir.”  Arnie smiled, as he directed the footmen.  “Dr. Studly advises her ladyship’s condition is quite normal, for the final weeks of her term.  And as the renovations to the house are complete, she enjoys more idle time.”

“Then I shall join her, in our chamber, after I deposit these ledgers in the study, as it was a long ride.”  Jason skipped up the stairs.

“Captain—wait.”  Phipps followed in Jason’s wake.  “Sir, please, I can convey your effects.  In light of your trip, you must be exhausted.”

“I am quite hale and hearty, old friend.”  Jason steered down the hall to the left and then strolled into his domain.  “And I need to—”

For a second, confusion fogged his brain, and Jason came to an abrupt halt.  In a flash, he retraced his steps, glanced from side to side, checked his bearing, and re-entered his study.

“It was her ladyship’s doing.”  Arnie cleared his throat.  “She personally directed the renovation, selected every scrap of furniture, and spared no expense.”

“Thank you, Phipps.”  Jason swallowed hard, as he digested the alterations to his sanctuary, which touched him more than he was willing to admit, to himself or anyone else.  “That will be all.”

The wall coverings of navy blue, trimmed in mahogany, his favorite color combination, continued the theme from the rest of the grand house.  Draperies of lush velvet framed the window and highlighted a massive, hand-tooled desk, which held pride of place, and bespoke categorical power and prestige.  Running his finger in the grooves of the delicate carvings, he examined the most impressive furnishing he had ever owned.

It was then Jason noticed the small portrait of his bride.  With a sigh, he smiled, and uncharacteristic tears blurred his vision.  “Exquisite, darling.”

As he returned to stand at the center of the room, he gazed upon a magnificent rendering of the Collingwood coat of arms, hanging above the fireplace.  On the mantel rested a unique maritime clock, and upon further inspection he discovered the timepiece was, in fact, a rare Harrison.  “Superb, sweetheart.”

Matching bookcases filled the right wall, and on the opposite side, two large displays featured his collection of spyglasses and compasses, including the family heirloom his father had used.  Jason rotated and absorbed the majesty and intimacy of his sanctuary and wiped the moisture from the corner of his eyes.

Without thought, he ran from the study and ascended the stairs, two at a time.  In the gallery, he skidded to a stop, as resplendent works of art filled the cavernous hall.  But what snared his attention was the large, full-length portrait of his bride, hugging her swollen belly.

After untying his cravat, Jason doffed his coat and waistcoat, and trod down the corridor, which led to the octagon-shaped chamber he shared with the woman of his dreams.  In the sitting room, he deposited the clothing on a chair and then eased open the interior door.

The apartment remained dark, and Alex slept, propped on a mountain of pillows.  He stifled a chuckle, as he stripped from his shirt, boots, and breeches.  The bedroom was chilly on that cool September morning, so he relit and stoked a blaze in the hearth.  Naked and aroused, so what else was new, he slipped between the sheets.

As soon as he drew a cushion to his side, his wife rolled into him, snuggled close, rested a hand to his chest and her head to his shoulder, sighed, and smiled a feminine smile.  He tucked the blankets beneath her chin and exhaled in unutterable contentment.  And Jason vowed that, somehow, some way, he would declare his love.

#

The sun peaked through the heavy drapes, as Alex yawned and nestled closer to Jason’s warmth.  Then she flinched and opened her eyes.  Had she conjured a lifelike dream?  If so, it was a most cherished fantasy, which had graced her waking hours every day, without fail, since her captain’s departure.

The subtle rush of his breath gave her gooseflesh, and she caressed his glorious chest.  But that vision and sensation had summoned her from peaceful slumber only yesterday, so she skimmed her fingers lower and squeezed his oh-so-reliable erection, which her reveries had neglected to replicate with any semblance of accuracy.  “You are home.”

Jason started and woke.  “Hello, beautiful.”

“
Oh
.”  Alex shrieked and hugged him tight.  “How I missed you, as it has been difficult to sleep without you at my side.”

“I missed you, too.  And I apologize for interrupting your routine.”  With a chuckle, he winked and kissed her forehead.  “You warned that might happen.”

“You are forgiven, as you kept your promise and returned to me.”  Then, to her embarrassment, she wept.

“Sweetheart, please do not cry.”  Her knight cupped her cheek and teased her lips with his thumb.  “I drove all night to be with you, and I can bear anything but your tears.”

“I am sorry.”  How Alex wanted to tell him the truth, as while she had decorated his study, surrounded by his personal items, he had captured her, all over again.  But once before she had proclaimed her love, and Jason had rejected her.  In her current vulnerable state, she could not withstand another disappointment, so she raised her defenses.  “I have a surprise for you, which I would show you after breakfast.”

“Well I have a surprise for you.”  He cast her a lopsided grin.  “I may have ruined your surprise.”

“You have seen it?”  Crestfallen, she pouted.

“If you reference my study, yes, I have, and it is...never have I...you should not...
bloody hell
.”  Jason gritted his teeth and groaned.  “Alex, you have outdone yourself.  When I purchased Stratfield, I had imagined a serviceable country estate to raise a family.  What you have managed, in so little time, humbles me, as you have exceeded my expectations, and I am so proud of you.”

“Praise, indeed.”  And she could have danced a jig, were she not eight months pregnant, but ever-present doubt nagged at her consciousness.  “So you are not vexed that I commandeered your private space, in your absence?”

“On the contrary, everything is beyond compare, and I can’t believe you procured a Harrison.  Really, darling, you are amazing.”  And then Jason furrowed his brow and frowned.  “But I do have one complaint.”

“Oh?”  Alex had celebrated her victory too soon.  “There is something not to your taste?”

“Yes.”  He tapped a finger to her nose.  “Your picture on my desk—”

“We can remove it.”  Knife to the heart with lethal accuracy.  “It was just an afterthought—my little joke.”

“Hold hard, love, as this is no joke, to me.”  Jason toyed with her nipple, and she gasped.  “My issue is not with your portrait, as I should prefer nothing more than to gaze on your stunning face, but with the size, as the current rendering is too small.  With your permission, I would take the miniature with me, aboard the
Intrepid
, as it is perfect for travel.  And we can commission a larger work for my desk.”

“You wish to carry my image with you, to sea?”  In that moment, her heart sang.

“Have I made you happy?”  Now Jason gently stroked her breast.  “You glow, my dear.”

“Yes.”  Emboldened by his request, she again searched out his erection.  “And I would wager I can inspire a bit of euphoria in you, too.”

“Wait.”  Jason peered at the bedside table.  “Where is the cloth, as we will need it?”

“In the top drawer.”  As he came to life in her hand, her confidence soared, and she worked him, hard and rough, just as he liked it.

“I am a poor substitute for your naughty finger work, darling.”  He hissed, and moisture seeped from the plumb-shaped tip.  “I had better situate the towel, as this will not take long.”

Truer words were never spoken, because no sooner had her captain put in place their odd protection than he opened his mouth in a silent scream and let fly a wicked volley.  Over and over, he grunted and thrust his hips, and his completion seemed never-ending.

At last, Jason relaxed and laughed, in his booming baritone.  “Oh, Alex, how I needed that.”

“So I gather.”  She giggled.  “And you made a mess.  Should I discard the cloth?”

“That is your fault.”  Suddenly, her husband glanced at her, narrowed his stare, and shifted until he hovered above her.  Rubbing his nose to hers, he slipped his fingers between her thighs.  “You tempt me beyond the limits of sanity and self-control, and leave the towel, as we are not finished.”

“Do I?”  She shivered, as he teased her most intimate flesh, and their interlude harked back to treasured memories of those carefree days in Plymouth.

“Yes, but I think you know that.”  He growled when she moaned.  “How I savor your pleasure song.  Sing for me, sweetheart.”

Alex went up in flames.

#

“Alex, I love you.”  The world shifted beneath his boots, and Jason teetered and collapsed into the chair, in his study.  For a few minutes, he gasped for air, and nausea clawed at his throat.  As the room seemed to spin out of control, and his ears rang, he bent forward, rested his head between his knees, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled.  “This is deuced humiliating, Collingwood.  Your sire must be rolling over in his grave.”

Without thought or care, he stood, and the room tilted left and then right, and he dropped to his seat, sans the old infuriating dust cloud, to his relief, thanks to his wife’s procurement of the new, high-back leather masterpiece that currently supported his miserable arse.  Focused on the ceiling, he growled in frustration, speared his fingers through his hair, slowly rose to his feet, and leaned on his desk for stability.

The miniature of his bride, the chief source of his discomfit, seemed to mock him.  “Darling, I swear I will get this right and make my declaration without vomiting.”

Dirk, Trevor, and Everett had been right.  Uttering that simple but nonetheless powerful phrase constituted the most terrifying prospect of his existence.  Then again, perhaps he approached the situation in reverse.  Instead of centering his efforts on the declaration, he should commence the courtship.

Now that posed a daunting task, as never had Alex required such formalities, and whores demanded only money, thus he had no experience with such triviality.  From the first waltz, his bride had made no secret that she wanted him.  How ironic it was that Jason had accused her of deceit, when the reality was his wife wore her heart on her sleeve.  In his ignorance, he had trounced her generous spirit, to his everlasting regret.

“I know what I can do for her.”  He snapped his fingers.  “My bride adores roses, and, thanks to her efforts, I have a rose garden.”

So with his constitution quite recovered, he strolled to the door, unlocked the bolt, and strode into the hall.  Taking a shortcut through the house, he navigated the back parlor and then exited via the terrace.  As he rounded a large hedge, a sharp rebuke had him ducking for cover.

“You soiled my dress.”  Carrying a basket of cut flowers, the nursemaid stomped her foot and thrust her nose in the air, and Jason stifled a snort of laughter.  “Get out of my way.”

“But—apples are your favorite fruit.”  The bungling Mr. Penniman retreated, and his shoulders slumped.  “I had thought we could slice it in half and eat it beneath the oak tree, near the creek.  It boasts a lovely view of the countryside.”

“I have no time for such nonsense.”  Molly sidestepped the clumsy suitor and pranced toward the manor.  “My mistress requires my assistance.”

It was the nanny’s newfound confidence and haughty demeanor that drew Jason up short and distracted him from his mission.  As his former cook-maid dressed down the stablemaster, she garnered a measure of respect.

There was something vaguely familiar in her condescending tone and aloofness.  With an expression of utter confusion and dispiritedness, Tom scratched his chin.  Suspicion nipped at Jason’s heels, and he returned to his study.

The household accounts occupied him until lunch, given Alex’s spending spree, so it was only when his stomach grumbled that Jason realized he was hungry enough to eat his toenails.  When he entered the dining room, he halted, as the nursemaid huddled beside Alex, who occupied her usual place at his left.

“Just do as I told you,” his darling bride said, in a low voice.  “Show him no mercy, and everything will be fine.”

In that instant, Molly spied Jason and jumped.  “Good afternoon, Cap’n.”

“Oh, Jason.”  With a hand pressed to her temple, Alex cleared her throat.  “I am so glad you could join me, as I am quite starved.  That will be all, Molly.”

“Then it appears my timing is excellent.”  As he perched at the head of the table, he draped a napkin in his lap.  “So what did I interrupt, as you two looked thick as thieves?”

“How you do exaggerate.”  Her nervous laughter further piqued his curiosity and suspicion.  “We discussed additions to the nursery, as I remain unhappy with the overall renovation.”