Captain Of Her Heart (33 page)

“I am not sure.”  Gasping for air, she sank her teeth into her clenched fist.  “Jason, I want you to know that I—”

Now his wife cried out and wrenched hard, in a tangle of linens.  In an effort to soothe her, he jumped from the four-poster, donned his robe, and ran to the opposite side of the bed.  “Alex, what is wrong?  Is it the babes?”

Coughing and wheezing, she hugged her belly.  “I think—
oh
.”

“Easy, angel.”  After fluffing her pillows and helping her into a more comfortable position, he trod to the side wall and yanked the bellpull.

As tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, his bride gritted her teeth, and he would have done anything to ease her suffering.  “Jason, send for the doctor.”

#

“Here, darling.”  Jason draped one of his robes about her shoulders, and she slipped her arms into the sleeves.  “Tom rode into town to fetch the physician, and they should be here, any minute.  And Miss Phipps is preparing tea and a light breakfast.”

“But I am feeling much better, and the pain has stopped.”  Alex giggled, as her husband fussed over her health and welfare, and she quite adored her excessively solicitous captain.  “And I could eat your stallion, as I am starved after our night of debauchery.”

“Sweetheart, this is no time for jokes.”  It was then she noted the perspiration beaded on his brow.

“Who is joking, as you exercised me, quite thoroughly?”  She clucked her tongue.  “But I am not complaining.”

A knock at the door had her covering her mouth, just as Dr. Studly entered the chamber.  “Mrs. Collingwood, how are you this morning?”

“Who in bloody hell are you?”  Jason stormed into the path of the young, very handsome doctor.

“Dr. Robert Studly, at your service.”  The physician extended his hand.  “You must be Mr. Collingwood—”

“
Captain
Collingwood, and how old are you?”  With a lethal scowl, Jason rested fists on hips.  “How long have you been in practice?”

“I began my study of medicine at age eighteen, under my father’s tutelage, completed my education at Guy’s Hospital in Southwark, and I am thirty-three.”  Dr. Studly set his black bag on the bedside table and shrugged from his coat.  “Now, if you would be so kind as to vacate the room, I shall wash, and then I will examine Mrs. Collingwood.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Brooding and beautiful, in his skintight breeches and flowing lawn shirt, her husband scoffed.  “If you think I am leaving you alone, with my wife, then you—”

“Jason, stop it, this instant.”  Propped on a mountain of pillows, Alex opened the robe, so the physician could commence the checkup.

“Captain Collingwood, regardless of my youthful appearance, I assure you, I am a professional.”  At the basin, Dr. Studly rolled up his shirtsleeves, poured water into the bowl, and soaped his hands.  “But if you insist on attending the appointment, then you must not interfere with my duties, as you would impede my ability to assess your wife’s condition, as well as that of your children.”

As Dr. Studly conducted a thorough evaluation, Jason huffed and puffed from the opposite side of the bed.  At last, Alex reached for him and squeezed his fingers, but her husband frowned at the physician.

“It is false labor.”  Dr. Studly returned the tools of his trade to his bag.  “What were you doing when the contractions began?”

Gulping, Alex glanced at Jason, and his eyes widened.  Then he flinched and gazed at the ceiling.  So much for her chivalrous knight.

“I lounged abed.”  Oh, how her cheeks burned, as salacious vignettes flashed in her brain.  “As the captain and I enjoyed a relaxed morning.”

“How peculiar.”  The physician scratched his chin.  “False labor is usually brought about by overexertion, excitement, or a combination, thereof.”

“Really?”  Alex mustered a nervous laugh.  “How odd.”

“Did we—I mean, were the babes harmed?”  Jason’s face flushed.  “And what of my wife?  Is she injured?”

“I am happy to report her ladyship is in fine fettle.”  Dr. Studly wrinkled his nose, as he collected his bag and hat.  “However, as she is very near her time, I recommend confining her ladyship to bed, Captain.”

“What?”  She sat upright, drew the covers over her belly, and nodded, as Jason adjusted a pillow.  “For how long?”

“Until you give birth, my lady.”  The good doctor cast her an expression of sympathy.

“You can’t be serious.  Dr. Studly, please, is there not an easier way?”  The nursery needed a final review, and Alex intended to make love to her husband, all afternoon.  “You know not what you ask of me.”

“Fret not, your ladyship.”  Dr. Studly checked his timepiece.  “Given the length and magnitude of your false labor, I expect you will deliver at any moment.”

“
Any moment
?”  Jason leaped from the mattress, paled, and slumped against the footboard.  “Are you leaving?”

“Calm yourself, Captain Collingwood.  Childbirth can be a very tedious process, and the entire affair can take hours.”  At the door, the physician peered over his shoulder.  “I promise, when you have need of my services, you will have ample opportunity to send your man, and I shall remain at the ready.”

“Thank you, Dr. Studly.”  Alone with her sailor, she slipped free of the robe, tossed it to the floor, and licked her lips.  “This is so unfair.  Whatever shall I do, while locked in our room, as it is early, yet?”

“Well I know what you will not do, as I ought to be horsewhipped for waylaying you, last night—and in the wee hours, this morning.”  After retrieving the discarded garment, Jason attempted to clothe her.  “What the deuce was I thinking?”

“I beg to differ, my lusty captain, as I loved every minute of it.”  She wriggled as he tried to drape the silk garment over her shoulders.  “And do you regret consummating our vows?”

“Alex—”

“Jason.”  She mocked his sigh.

“I regret nothing, as I cannot resist you, when you are as accommodating as you were last night.”  At last, he relented and abandoned the robe.  “And I have been trying to get under your skirts since we married.”

“Jason Collingwood, I like the way you think.”  And her confidence soared, as she rested her palm to his flat belly and then she skimmed her hand lower, to squeeze a telltale bulge.

“Stop that.”  He leaped beyond reach, as if she had set fire to his breeches.  Wagging a finger, her suddenly shy husband grimaced.  “You heard what Dr. Studly said.  We are not to excite you.”

“Too late, as I burn for you.”  Biting her lip, she inclined her head.  “Will you not climb between the sheets and suffer with me?”

“No.”  Utter panic invested his visage.

“All right.”  Alex threw back the blankets.  “If you think I am going to sit here, alone, all day, you are mistaken.  And if you refuse to entertain me, than I shall fend for myself.”

“Stay in bed.”  Gritting his teeth, Jason stomped to the edge of the mattress, grasped the end of the counterpane, and tucked it beneath her chin.  “If you have need of me, you have only to ask.  But I do not see what I can provide by way of amusement.”

“Actually, I have a wonderful idea.”  And it was time to embark on her campaign to win his heart.  “You may read to me.  The book is on the bedside table.”

“That sounds simple.”  Jason retrieved the requisite volume and flipped through the pages.  “If you swear you will rest, for the remainder of the day.”

“With your help, I should relax.”  And the contents might motivate him to make his declaration.  “And I shall nap.”

“Love sonnets?”  He blanched.  “Oh, Alex.”

“You swore you would do it, for me.”  She folded her arms and thrust her chin.  “Do you renege, sir?”

“But you said nothing about foppish sentiments written by overemotional parlor dandies, who are a bit too in touch with their feminine side, for my tastes.”  How she cherished his pout.

“Read—now.”  She narrowed her stare.

“Where did you leave off?” he inquired, with a glower.

“You may start at the beginning.”  And then she clamped her tongue against a giggle.

“Very well.”  Holding the leather-bound tome, he turned to the first page and groaned.  “Your eyes are like limpid pools—you can’t be serious.”

“That does it.”  Alex scooted to the edge of the bed.  “There are some entries I must note in the supply ledger, and—”

“Oh, all right.”  With a look that might have frightened her before their marriage, her husband stomped to her side of the four-poster, grasped her ankles, and eased her beneath the blankets.  “Weigh your anchor, and I will read the damn romantic drivel.”

Then he yanked off his boots and flung them none too gracefully to the floor.  “May as well be comfortable if I am to endure such humiliating degradation.”

“Humiliating degradation?”  She snorted.  “Are we not a tad dramatic?”

“Adequate to the occasion.”  The man was downright menacing.  “Because you are the only woman who could ever coax me to enact something so ridiculous, and if you breathe one word of this to anyone, I will deny it to my death.”

“Poor aggrieved darling.”  In that instant, Alex opened her heart and let it sing.  “I shall be as silent as the grave.”

“My sire is probably rolling over in his.”  Jason glared, but he fooled her not for a minute.

With a final mumbled protest, her captain embarked on a poetic oration that would have moved many of the fairer sex to tears, if only to make him stop.  At first, he practically barked the sonnets, which she thought an original, if not amusing, interpretation.

However, with each subsequent verse, he gazed into her eyes, emphasized more sensuous text, interjected bits of ribald humor, and then moved to sit beside her, so he could claim a kiss at the end of each line.  And Alex imagined that, years later, when she reminisced of her fledgling months of wedded life, the hour she passed that morning with Jason would prevail as her most cherished memory.

“Well, that was the last poem, my dear.”  He closed the book.  “Have you another?”

“I do.”  She nuzzled his chest and sighed.  “But right now, I would indulge in alternative recreation, if you retain your cooperative nature.”

“What is next?”  With a hearty chuckle, he kissed the crown of her head.  “Shakespeare?”

“Perhaps, this evening.”  She retraced her earlier path, straight to his crotch.  “As I am in the mood for your favorite activity.”

“No, Alex.”  Jason covered her hand with his.  “Dr. Studly said you are not to be excited.”

“But I am, and it is your fault.”  She squeezed his fast rising erection.  “As you have showered with me sonnets, and I want you.”

“You asked me to read them.”  He groaned and flexed his hips.

“Yes, I know, and all that flowery language worked on my senses.”  He released her, and she unhooked his waistband.  “Can we not enjoy the fruit of your labor?”

Jason dropped his head back on the pillow.  “The doctor said—”

“Bother the doctor.”  She closed her fingers about his girth.  “He is an old woman.”

“Admit it.”  He hissed.  “You are trying to kill me.”

“With pleasure, darling.”  How well she knew the rhythm, to make him howl in delight.  “Let me have you, just this once.”

Exhaling audibly, he closed his eyes.  “Do with me, as you wish.”

It was an enthralling experience, brandishing something so elementally male, yet delicate and vulnerable as a ripe peach, in her clutch.  “Have you ever given yourself into another woman’s control?”

“Never have I granted license of my body to anyone—until I met you.”  Clenching his jaw, Jason thrust in time with her movements.

“What is so special about me?”  She toyed with the drop of moisture that had seeped from the tip.

He pinned her with his stare.  “I trust you.”

Passion glimmered, and smug satisfaction rode in its wake.  Emboldened by his statement, she licked her palm and resumed her naughty handiwork, and that sent her husband over the brink.  With a startling roar, he jerked and exploded in an impressive display of virility.  After a few seconds, he whistled in monotone, and Alex burst into laughter.

“You unman me, love, but that is no criticism.”  To wit Jason grinned and waggled his brows.  “However, you forgot the towel, and I made a mess.”

“Wait there.  I will fetch a wet cloth and tend you, for a change.”  She shimmied and stepped to the floor.  At the washstand, she picked up the pitcher, just as a rush of warmth flooded between her thighs and puddled on the carpet.  “Oh, no.”

“Good God, you have sprung a leak.”  Jason leaped from the bed and rushed to her side.  “What happened?”

Leaning against him for support, she gasped.  “My water broke.”

He furrowed his brow.  “Speak English, Alex.”

“The babes.”  She hugged her belly.  “They are coming.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Oh, the pain.

Oh, the agony.

Oh, the misery.

It was an unimaginable torture.  Standing in the middle of the master suite, Jason grimaced, as his wife bent forward in the throes of another vicious contraction, moaned, and clutched his hand in a death grip.  Though she, alone, bore the burden of delivering their babes into the world, he suffered her torment down to his toes—if he still had toes.  At present, his legs had weakened to the point that he feared his limbs had been severed at the knees.

“
Bastard
!”  Her delicate features contorted as proof of her distress, and Alex gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath.  “You did this to me.”

“I know, dearest.”  He tried to remain calm and reassuring, but he was deuced scared.

“This is all your fault.”  With a fist pressed to her mouth, she sank her teeth into the fleshy base of her thumb and panted as a thoroughbred that had just crossed the finish line.  Only her race had just begun.

“Yes, darling.”  Jason patted her bottom.  “I am entirely to blame.”

“Sabrina was right, as this is not fair.”  Alex winced and emitted a soft sob.  “The woman must bear the pregnancy and birthing, while you get your jollies and an heir.”

“I am a double-damned heathen, sweetheart.”  He kissed her forehead and tamped his concerns.  “Do you feel better?”