Captain's Bride (34 page)

“No. No, he didn’t.” She glanced at the two by the
fire, pleased with Nicholas for having the courage to apologize to
Nathan, and wondering why he hadn’t told her. But then, that was so
like him. It was almost as though he tried to hide the gentle,
caring side of his nature. “At any rate, he’s gone into the city.
He won’t be back for three days. Valentine and Hilly can stay here
until he arrives.”

“That should give them time to rest. A wagon will
come by on Wednesday morning to carry them on to the next stop.” He
looked at her hard. “Promise me you’ll tell Nicholas, even if
they’ve already gone.”

“I won’t promise, Nathan. This work is important to
me. I’ve been looking for a way to help. I’d even thought of
writing to George McMillan. I just didn’t want him to misinterpret
my reasons. Now you’ve solved my problem. When the time is right,
I’ll tell Nicholas. Not before. If it looks as though he’ll oppose
my work, I shan’t tell him at all. I think Isaac will help me.
Between the two of us, we can manage.”

“I think you should tell him as soon as he arrives.
But I’ll let you handle it your way.” He grinned again. “I always
have, haven’t I?”

“Thank you, Nathan.” She turned to Hilly and
Valentine. “Come along, you two. Let’s get you settled in.” She led
them to a cozy room off the kitchen. “This should do the
trick.”

They eyed the fluffy quilt, the pitcher on the walnut
bureau, and the wide, comfortable-looking bed. “Thank you, missus,”
Hilly said with an appreciative smile.

“Thank you, missus,” repeated Valentine, lisping
through a missing front tooth.

“You’re both very welcome. I’ll be back in a while
with your supper.” She closed the door and followed Nathan’s tall
frame back through the kitchen to the drawing room. “How long can
you stay?” she asked him.

“I’m afraid I have to return right away. Exams, day
after tomorrow.”

“Then let’s not waste time. I want you to fill me in
on everything you’ve been doing.”

“How about you? What’s it feel like to be a married
lady?”

She wished he hadn’t asked. How could she tell him
she felt far from married. She slept alone and worried constantly
that her husband didn’t. She glanced away. “I’m doing just fine.
Now tell me about school.”

With that he launched into a thirty-minute monologue
on the horticultural experiments he was working on.

The night before Nicholas was due home, Glory lay on
her bed beneath its heavy velvet canopy. She had seen the runaways
to safety, then returned to her big empty house. Being near the
little boy had dredged up painful memories of the child she’d lost.
But more than that, Hilly had told Glory about losing her husband,
how much she had loved him, how lonely she was without him.

As she stared up at the canopy, Glory tried to
imagine what life would be like without Nicholas, forcing herself
to remember that day in the harbor when he had abandoned her, her
feelings of despair. Would a wedding ring stop him from leaving her
again? She’d lost his son; she had no real hold on him now.

All day long she’d walked in the gardens trying to
decide what to do. The Hudson flowed past clusters of weeping
willows that were just beginning to green while ducks bobbed and
dived below the surface in search of food. Maybe she should return
to Summerfield Manor, she thought. Her mother’s letters had
softened over the past few months. It seemed her mother had missed
her after all. Or maybe she should return to Boston. Should she ask
Nicholas for an annulment again? Maybe this time he would agree. Or
should she follow her heart and stay with him, be his wife, bear
his children? That would take the greatest courage of all.

Every day she spent with Nicholas wound her deeper
into his spell. She’d survived his mistreatment once, even survived
the death of their child. But she could not survive his loss
again.

By late afternoon Glory had worked herself into a
state of nerves that left her moody and on edge. When Nicholas
returned from the city that evening, she pleaded a headache and
refused to join him for supper. Before he retired, he came to her
room to check on her, but she wouldn’t face him. She stood at the
window in her simple cotton nightdress, determined not to let him
know what she was thinking, and feeling totally bereft.

“Are you ill, love?” He crossed the room in long
strides to settle a gentle hand at her waist.

“It’s just a headache,” she said softly, keeping her
back carefully turned to him.

“You’re sure it’s nothing serious?”

A hard lump closed her throat. Just the sound of his
deep voice caused her heart to pound. She felt drawn to him,
desired him, and loved him, just as she had on the strand. “I’m all
right . . . really,” she said, her voice soft and strained. “I’ll
be fine by tomorrow.”

He turned her to face him, and try as she might to
prevent it, a single tear slid down her cheek.

“Tell me,” he said, whisking the tear away with a
long brown finger. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t. Please, Nicholas, just go away and leave me
alone.”

“I’m your husband, Glory. You can tell me anything.”
She only shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m making a fool of myself.
Please, just go away. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Dammit, Glory. Tell me what’s wrong!”

Glory rounded on him, his anger bringing a surge of
her own. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Everything! Everything’s
wrong. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with you. I want
to go home!”

“But why?”

Tears washed her cheeks, but she didn’t answer.

“You seemed happy,” he said. “I thought . . . If I’ve
done something to upset you . . . tell me.”

Still she didn’t respond.

“Tell me, dammit! Tell me why you want to leave.” She
lifted her chin, her anguish turning to fury. “Because I don’t
trust you. I never know when you’ll walk out that door and never
come back.” She swallowed past the tears in her throat. “But more
than anything else,
I
don’t want to love you
.”

Nicholas pulled her into his arms. He held her close
to him, circling her protectively while she sobbed against his
chest. He smoothed the pale strands of her hair with his hand, his
voice low and heavy with conviction.

“Don’t you understand?” he said. “I love you more
than life. For months after you left I grieved, wishing you were
with me, believing you were in love with someone else. Do you know
what that did to me? Do you honestly believe I could go through
that again?”

She turned her face to look up at him. “In love with
someone else? I don’t understand. Who?”

“We’ve talked so little, Glory. I can’t believe you
didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“I thought Nathan was your . . . I didn’t know he was
your brother.”

Glory pulled away. “You thought Nathan was . . . ?
What?”

“I thought you were in love with him. When I came to
Boston, I tried to explain.”

“No, Nicholas. You didn’t.” She looked at him hard.
“How could you have believed that of me? That I would make love to
you and be in love with someone else?”

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I was a
fool.”

“Well, I don’t know, either. Can’t you see? I don’t
understand you, Nicholas. And until I do, I can’t believe you or
trust you. Most of all, I can’t allow myself to love you.”

“Dammit, Glory. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Maybe it would be best if I just went away.”

“No.”

“In time things might work out.”

“Things are never going to work out between us until
you’re back where you belong.”

She tilted her chin in defiance. “And just where
might that be?”

“In my bed. It’s time I showed you my love in the
only way I know how.” He scooped her up into his arms, strode
across the floor, and lowered her onto the huge four-poster that
dominated the room.

Glory began to struggle as he lay down beside her.
“Please, Nicholas. You’ll only make things worse.”

“I told you once before that I would decide when the
time was right. I want to love you, Glory. Maybe my body can make
you believe what my words alone cannot.” With that he cupped her
chin and kissed her, stilling any further protests. With her hands
trapped against his chest, she could feel the rapid beating of his
heart. Slanted against her mouth, his lips felt firm and warm, and
Glory stifled a moan. She had to stop him. If she didn’t stop him
now, she would be lost.

“Please, Nicholas,” she whispered, pulling away.
Again he silenced her with his mouth, kissing her relentlessly. He
smelled of musk and tasted of brandy. Plundering her mouth with his
tongue, he sampled the velvet corridors within and demanded she
respond.

Glory could hardly breathe. Her struggles turned
feeble, useless, as if she sensed winning the battle would be
losing somehow. In truth, she knew she wanted him as much as he
wanted her. Gently, he held her, pulling her nightdress over her
head, leaving her bare and trembling beneath his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her ear. “Just
as I’ve remembered every night these long months past.”

“Nicholas,” she breathed, wishing she could stop the
words, “I’ve missed you so.”

He released her hands and they slipped around his
neck. She laced them through his curly black hair. He stroked her
upturned breasts, lifting and caressing each one, touching them
almost reverently. When he lowered his mouth to her nipple, Glory
moaned and arched her back, wanting more and wishing she didn’t. He
kissed her mouth, her nose, her eyes, trailed tiny kisses along her
shoulder.

With shaky fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt and
slipped her hands inside to touch his warm skin. The feel of his
stiff chest hair sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine and a
surge of heat to her core. She moved her fingers to the buttons of
his breeches, but he stopped her.

“Not yet,” he whispered. While one hand cupped her
breast, the other moved downward to gently part her legs. He
lowered his body until he nestled between her thighs. His mouth
burned a path of kisses from her navel along the smooth flat skin
beneath until he reached the source of her passion within its
protective nest of pale blond hair. As his lips surrounded her,
Glory felt a flash of heat that drove her to madness. She moaned
and writhed against him, calling his name and begging for more.
With his mouth and his fingers, he brought her pleasure unlike any
she’d known. Wave after wave of passion, withheld these long,
lonely months, washed over her. Until at last she lay spent and a
little embarrassed at her bold response.

She hardly noticed when he left her, only noticed his
return as his heavy weight pressed down the thick feather mattress.
When she turned to look at him, she saw he’d removed his clothes,
and the sight of his lean hard body, his swollen manhood, filled
her with a fresh jolt of desire. She watched him for a moment,
drinking in the sight of his swarthy features, the hard, powerful
body so long denied her. Then she cradled his face between her
palms, feeling the angular cheekbones, and brought his lips to
hers. Though the kiss began gently, she could feel the power he
withheld, the passion he’d denied himself in order to bring her
pleasure.

As her hands moved down the muscular planes of his
body, the kiss turned demanding, and she heard him groan. Her
fingers traveled to the smooth curves of his buttocks; taut muscles
bunched beneath her hands. Moving on top of her, he guided his
hardened shaft to the entrance of her womanhood.

“Please,” she whispered, “I want you so.” In answer,
he claimed her mouth, forcing his tongue inside at the same moment
his hardness eased into her.

White heat flooded her loins. She moaned and writhed
against him, calling his name, begging for more. And Nicholas gave
her what she wanted. Their skin glistening with perspiration, they
rode the crest of their passion. Again and again Nicholas drove
into her, filling her, pounding against her, and each time Glory
felt sure her pleasure could be no greater. Just when she was
certain she could stand the torture no more, a piercing sweetness
washed over her, tiny pinpricks of ecstasy that carried her to
release. Nicholas followed in her wake as shudders of pleasure
washed over him.

They lay quiet for a time, lost in their own
thoughts. Nicholas cradled Glory against him. Nicholas, she ached
to tell him, I’m so afraid. Please love me as you say. I promise
you won’t be sorry. But she said nothing.

They made love again. And yet again. Each determined
to breach the lonely months. Then she turned her head into the
curve of his shoulder and pretended to sleep. By returning her
husband’s passion, she had made her decision. She was now his wife
in every way. Whatever happened, she had chosen the path she would
walk. But thoughts of the happiness they’d shared on the strand—and
the terrible consequences that followed—kept her from falling
asleep. She wondered if Nicholas rested as fitfully as she.

Glory awoke to find she’d slept after all. She
blinked against the sunlight streaming through an open window, then
remembered the events of the evening. With a start, she turned to
find Nicholas beside her propped up on an elbow, sheet bunched at
his waist, gray eyes open and watching her. He smoothed a lock of
sleep-tangled hair from her face with his hand but said nothing, as
if he felt a little uncertain.

“Still want to leave?” he finally said. There was a
forced lightness in his voice she was sure he didn’t feel. His
expression seemed remote, guarded, as if he feared her answer but
still had to ask.

“No.”

“Regrets?”

She shook her head. The tension in his face drained
away, but her answer was only half true. For she truly regretted
the nagging doubt, the constant insecurity she felt in loving
Nicholas. She’d always been so confident, so sure of herself. Now
she faced every day with an uncertainty that never gave her a
moment’s peace.