Andrea Kane (34 page)

Alex gave her a beatific smile. “Actually, yes, it was rather a whirlwind courtship,” she confessed. “After all, this was my very first Season.” Alex gave herself a silent round of applause as Lydia, older by at least five years, winced.

“Then you and Drake met in London?” Elizabeth’s big blue eyes widened in surprise.

Alex was beginning to enjoy herself. “Why, yes,” she answered truthfully, watching as the women exchanged surprised glances. They were obviously nonplussed at having no recollection of Alex attending any of the grand balls. “Unfortunately, the Season was a brief one for Drake and me. My father, the governor of Upper Canada, required my presence in York.” A little white lie couldn’t hurt. “Drake was gallant enough to offer me passage on his ship.” Close enough to the truth.

“Drake took you on his ship to Canada?” Lydia’s incredulous expression was mirrored on five other faces. For Drake to have allowed any female into that part of his life was unprecedented.

“Why, yes.” Alex kept her expression innocent. “He was charming and so accommodating. Why, to spare my reputation he even forfeited his cabin to me for the entire duration of the trip.”

“You were unchaperoned?” Anne Kensgate looked appalled.

Alex dropped her eyes. “Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances, my lady’s maid was unable to accompany me.”
Most probably because I never told her I was going.
“Of course, Drake’s valet was ever so helpful, as was the rest of the crew. And, since we had planned on marrying once we reached York anyway, it was only a small impropriety.”

Lady Kensgate gave a loud, indignant sniff as if to counter Alex’s words.

“Well, I think that it is all wonderfully romantic,” Alicia Lyndale put in with a warm smile. “Obviously it was love at first sight.”

An image of Drake’s blazing fury at finding her in his cabin rose before Alex’s eyes, and she fought to control a giggle. She gave Alicia a grateful smile. “Yes, Drake and I had a rather powerful reaction to each other right from the start.”

“Most women react powerfully when they meet Drake,” Arabella jumped in, then giggled.

“They certainly do,” Lydia agreed with a leer. “And the reaction only grows stronger as the involvement deepens.” Her meaning was quite clear.

“True. But Drake rarely reacts the same way in return.” Samantha’s clear fifteen-year-old voice stunned all of them, and they turned to stare in surprise. They tolerated her presence because Drake insisted on it, but they were unused to being challenged by a mere chit.

Samantha met their stares calmly, looking much as Drake did when he was confronting an adversary. “My brother is usually unaffected by the attention bestowed upon him by eager women,” she continued, smiling at Alex’s startled, admiring expression. “Until Alex. I have never seen him so smitten. But then, I suppose he recognized the rare combination of good breeding, beauty, intelligence, humor, and charm in one woman. And he was wise enough, once he spotted it, to marry her.” She smoothed a wrinkle from her gown and folded her hands demurely in her lap.

All of the women but Alicia gaped at Samantha’s outspoken comments. Alicia gave a hearty laugh and nodded.

“You are quite right, Samantha. Drake has certainly had ample opportunity to select a wife. But a man of his great wealth and position must choose wisely.” She gave Alex’s arm a squeeze. “Apparently he did just that.” She led Alex over to the tufted sofa. “Now, please come sit down and relax.” She shot an annoyed look at the other occupants of the room. “Our intent is to welcome you, not to make you uncomfortable. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

Five heads nodded reluctantly. After that, the conversation went on to the newest fashions, the latest gossip about who was involved with whom, and the upcoming Christmas parties they would be attending.

Alex wished fervently that she were back on her island with Drake.

“Your new stallion is a beauty, Drake.” Eric Ravensley stroked the glossy neck of the proud black horse that stood in dignified silence, waiting to be mounted.

“So, I hear, is his new wife,” Stephen Lyndale chimed in with a twinkle.

“You hear correctly, Stephen,” Sebastian replied instantly. “Alexandria is an exquisite and noteworthy acquisition for my brother. She is a rare combination of grace and breeding.”

“Alexandria is a woman, not a horse, Sebastian.” Drake’s tone was cutting, his anger generated by the patronizing words and the damned intimate tone of his brother’s voice.

Alex might think him unaware of Sebastian’s ogling, but he was not. He was uncertain whether Sebastian’s interest in Alex stemmed from jealousy or lust. Either way, Drake saw red whenever he caught his brother staring at her with that predatory gleam in his eye. If Sebastian ever so much as touched Alex, Drake would kill him.

He turned cold green eyes to where Sebastian stood, preparing to mount his mare for their morning ride. Sebastian felt Drake’s stare, but chose to ignore it, swinging himself into the saddle.

Stephen cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. Drake’s antipathy toward his brother was well known, and in truth no one blamed him for it. Sebastian was neither liked nor trusted by any of the men, but out of respect for Drake, he was not shunned.

“We are looking forward to meeting this mysterious lady who has finally put an end to your days as an eligible bachelor,” Stephen teased, mounting his own chestnut mare.

Drake nodded his dismissal to the groom who had escorted the handsome thoroughbred out of the stables. With the easy grace that accompanied all of his movements Drake swung himself into the heavy leather saddle and absently stroked the horse’s neck.

“You will have ample opportunity to meet Alexandria this evening,” he told Stephen. He flashed him a quick smile. “I don’t think you will be disappointed.”

The men laughed, good humor restored, dissolving the tension of the last few minutes. The crisp fall day was perfect for riding, and Drake found himself anticipating the exercise with a great deal of enthusiasm. The vast grounds of Allonshire spread out before them, the immaculately trimmed hedges and numerous fences providing the perfect hurdles for jumping. Jupiter, his prize thoroughbred, had been well trained for such a romp, and the blood-horse now pranced with excitement as he awaited Drake’s commands.

Drake’s gentle slapping of the reins began the jaunt at a relaxed pace, and soon all were riding in companionable silence.

Sebastian stared at his brother’s broad-shouldered back with undisguised hatred. Even on a casual outing, the men automatically followed Drake’s lead. There was something about him that commanded respect and spoke of leadership and power.

But not for long.

Sebastian walked his horse slowly, falling into step beside Lord Reginald Kensgate. The older, silver-haired man was not as quick as the younger men, and, had fallen some distance behind the other riders—a distance that Sebastian took good advantage of.

“Hello, Reginald. It’s been a while,” he greeted him cheerfully.

Lord Kensgate swallowed deeply, the familiar pain constricting his chest and making breathing difficult.

“I have nothing to say to you, Barrett. Nothing at all.”

Sebastian raised his dark brows in mock surprise. “Now, is that any way to speak to a dear friend?”

Reginald’s glance was withering. “We are anything but friends, Sebastian. It sickens me that I was weak enough to succumb to your vicious blackmail in the past. It will torture my conscience for the rest of my life.”

“Such theatrics, Reginald.” Sebastian shook his head. “It does not become you at all. And words like ‘blackmail’ are so ugly. I prefer to think of it as a shrewd business deal.”

“A business deal?” Lord Kensgate looked ill. “You have a diseased mind. Thank God your father is not alive to see what you have become.”

“You were willing to help me,” Sebastian reminded him with a cold smile. “Remember that.”

“I will never forget it,” came the whispered reply. “And I thank the Lord that your plan failed.” He urged his horse on. “We have nothing more to say to each other, Sebastian. If I were a stronger man, if I were not so afraid to leave Anne alone, I would confess my crime just to see you punished for your treachery.”

“But you yourself admitted that you are weak.” Sebastian laughed cruelly as he watched Reginald ride off to catch up with the others. “I don’t need you any longer, old man,” he muttered under his breath. “I am taking care of things on my own … as I should have done from the start.”

Unaware of the angry exchange going on behind him, Drake let his rigid body relax in the saddle, allowing a small trace of the freedom he felt at sea to tantalize his senses. These past weeks had been laden with responsibility, and he had taken no time for recreation of any kind.

Almost any kind, he amended to himself, thinking of the nights he spent in his wife’s arms. Making love to Alex was a balm to his tortured senses, the only time he could forget who and what he was. When they were together, nothing existed outside of their union. Time had not dimmed his insatiable passion for Alex, but rather increased his urgent need to possess her, body, heart, and soul.

Alex’s adaptation had been incredible. While he was still reeling from his world’s upheaval, she had slipped into her role as the Duchess of Allonshire with amazing ease and grace. Just as she had captivated the hearts of his crew on
La Belle Illusion,
Alex had done the same at Allonshire. The servants looked up to her, Samantha adored her, even Blackbeard guarded her with fierce protectiveness and slept nightly by her bedside. As always, Alex was blissfully unaware of her effect on people. Unconsciously she enchanted everyone, just by being herself.

He was far more than enchanted. Determinedly he refused to assign a name to what he felt for his intoxicating wife. But the depth of it staggered him. And though he told himself that it did not matter, he held his breath each night in bed, feeling her body contract with pleasure and listening for her involuntary declaration of love—a declaration that he had not heard in over two months.

Desperately trying to clear his mind, Drake broke into a gallop. The most challenging obstacles loomed just ahead, and a surge of anticipation rose up inside him as they drew nearer. Jupiter could make any jump with effortless skill; Drake himself had painstakingly trained the stallion in hazardous jumps such as these.

The horse seemed to sense Drake’s excitement. His ears went back, his nostrils flared, and he increased his speed, leaving the others far behind. Gusts of cold air blew past them as horse and rider moved as one, nearing the series of intricate jumps.

“Here we go, Jupiter!” Drake called out, nudging lightly with his feet. “Now!”

Then they were flying through the air, sailing with the wind. They had barely touched the ground when the next hurdle loomed before them. Again they went up and over, landing lightly on the other side, only to begin again. Each fence was higher than the one before it, posing increasing danger.

The final fence was before them. No one but Drake would dare to attempt this feat, and the men all paused to watch their friend’s brilliant display of horsemanship.

Oblivious to all but the thrill of the sport, Drake urged Jupiter into a faster gallop and the bold horse responded instantly, gathering his legs under him and, in a flash of movement, springing up and over the fence.

Drake heard the snap when they were in midair. He had no time to think or react as the ground rushed up to meet him. And then a blinding flash of pain took his breath away.

“Would anyone care for more tea?” Alex asked, looking around the drawing room. Personally, if she had one more cup, she would explode.

There was a sudden din from the front door, and moments later Humphreys burst into the room, completely flustered. Alex had never seen the austere butler looking so harried, and she rose immediately to her feet.

“Humphreys, what is the commotion? Is something wrong?”

“Yes, your grace.” He hesitated for a second, knowing that he should take the duchess aside to tell her, then decided that this was no time for protocol. “It is his grace,” he told her. “He has taken a bad fall from his horse.”

Alex was halfway to the door. “Is he badly injured, Humphreys?” she began, then stopped as she looked out into the hall.

Two footmen and a frantic Smitty were carrying a white-faced Drake into the house.

“I
TELL YOU I
am fine!”

Drake was sitting, up, bare-chested, on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his disheveled raven hair and addressing a doting Smitty, who was pacing back and forth across the bedchamber.

At Drake’s words Smitty stopped, frowning. “You are not fine, your grace. You are badly bruised and cut, and your shoulder was dislocated.”

“Which, thanks to you, it no longer is,” Drake finished impatiently, gingerly moving his left arm, which still throbbed with a dull ache. It had been agony when Smitty snapped the shoulder back into place, but the worst of the pain had immediately subsided once the job was done. Now Drake was anxious to forget the whole incident. He glanced down at the raw skin and angry red gashes with a dismissive shrug of his uninjured right shoulder. “My bruises are minimal,” he announced. “I am quite all right.”

“Thanks to some very quick thinking and superb horsemanship, from what I hear.” Alex stood in the doorway, a cool, damp cloth in her hand. She approached the bed, grateful that Drake was improving. She had been overcome with fear at the first sight of him, pale, groaning with pain, covered with blood. Now, an hour later, he looked almost normal, with only the nasty cuts and scratches a reminder of his ordeal. “Alicia said that, according to her husband, if you had fallen any other way, both you and Jupiter would have been badly hurt. As it is, only your arm and Jupiter’s pride were injured.” She applied the compress to his left arm, gently cleaning the wounds.

Drake grinned. “It was pure instinct, I assure you, princess,” he said in a softer tone, enjoying the caressing motion of her hands on his arm. She bit her lip, concentrating on her healing ministrations, leaning over to examine the depth of the cuts. Drake relaxed, feeling soft tendrils of her golden brown hair tickle his bare skin. He breathed deeply, inhaling his wife’s familiar floral scent, thinking how wonderful it was to see her in something other than drab mourning colors. Today she looked young and vibrant and very, very beautiful.