Captain Of Her Heart (4 page)

“But I am unaccustomed to such work.”  The poor darling paled and appeared as if she might swoon.  “And I am of noble blood.”

“Then you should summon your coach, and surrender your ill-fated campaign, my dear.”  Not for a minute had he believed Alex would actually quit the field.  “As I am no lord of the manor and hold no titles.  As an ordinary man of the sea, I maintain an estate just outside London, and a home in Hampstead Heath.  My properties are, no doubt, modest by your standards, thus my staff is small, as are my needs.”  Jason had baited the hook, and now he prepared to reel in his lady.  “Perhaps you no longer fancy a union with me?”

“How dare you disparage my abilities, even as you make light of my regard?”  With high dudgeon, Alex marched to stand toe to toe with him.  “I can learn anything, when I set my mind to it.”

He bit his tongue against laughter and shrugged.  “If you say so.”

“I do say.”  Her eyes flared.  “Have no fear, as I shall meet your challenge, and you had better meet mine.”

CHAPTER TWO

The hinges creaked, the door slammed shut, and Alex roused from a most pleasant but inappropriate dream, which featured her erstwhile fervent suitor in happier days.  Rubbing the back of her neck, she yawned.  “Jason, is that you?”

“No, ma’am.”  The charwoman sneezed.  “It is I—Molly.”

Bolting upright, Alex clutched the blanket to her chin.  Just as quick, she winced, as a sharp pain in her lower back reminded her of the uncomfortable night spent on the sofa.  “Good morning.”

“Merciful heavens, what happened?”  The petite cook-maid shuffled her feet, as she retrieved a broom.  “Did Cap’n make you sleep in here?”

“Oh, no.”  Alex snatched her house slippers from the floor and slid them onto her feet.  Then she scooted to the edge of the small sofa, dropped her legs over the side, stood, and stretched.  In an instant, she flinched, as her body ached in places she never knew she could ache.  “My darling brother was only too happy to surrender his bed, but I insisted he retain the use of his chamber, given his size and the fact that he must replenish his energy to oversee repairs to the
Intrepid
.”

In that moment, Alex could have choked on her tongue, because nothing could have been further from the truth.  The previous night, after sharing a painfully quiet meal, Jason had stormed into his quarters and slammed the door behind him.  Seconds later, when he unlatched the bolt, she had allowed herself a scrap of hope, which he swamped beneath a pile of blankets and a pillow.

So the estimable captain had resolved to make the situation difficult for her, while she had anticipated otherwise.  Much to her chagrin, his level of resistance, though somewhat admirable, was not normal.  The stronger sex rarely refused Alex Seymour anything.  With a playful bat of her lashes or a coy smile, she could bend the most stalwart man to her will.  Even her brother Damian was susceptible to her tears, which she had deployed on occasions too numerous to count, for a wide variety of infractions, in order to save her posterior.

Yet Jason remained immune.

“Are you hungry?”  Molly folded the blanket.  “Shall I cook some breakfast, ma’am?”

“Please, do so.”  Alex nodded once, as she considered her predicament.  “As I am famished.”

“How do you prefer your eggs?”  Molly stacked the bedding and pillow at one end of the sofa.  “Scrambled, boiled, fried, or over easy?”

“Scrambled, please.”  She frowned, as she posited her next move.  “And you must call me Alex.”

At one time, prior to his engagement in Cara’s plot to catch Lance, Jason had been Alex’s most ardent pursuer.  She had only to crook her little finger, and he came running.  Now he seemed impervious to her powers of persuasion, so how could she reverse course?

“Would you like a slice of ham, Alex?”  Molly tarried at the range.

“Yes, if it is not too much trouble.”  In silence, she revisited Jason’s provocation.

“It will take only a minute to prepare.”  A hairsbreadth later, a tempting aroma filled the primary living space.

Studying the efficient cook-maid, Alex dissected Jason’s words.  Had he sought a wife capable of providing such basic services as cooking and cleaning?  Or was his challenge a test of her mettle?  Whatever the case, she would not fail.  Regardless of his intent, she would prove herself worthy of his affection and a betrothal.  After all, how hard could it be to complete such menial drudgery?

“Molly, I hate to be a burden, as you were hired to care for Jason, alone.”  Alex shrugged into her robe, belted it tight, and then strolled into the kitchen.  “If you would teach me, I could assist in your duties.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Molly dropped her cooking utensil into the pan but quickly retrieved it.  “No offense, ma’am, but you do not appear suited to charwork.”

“In that I cannot argue.”  With a chuckle, Alex lingered at the servant’s side.  “But it is never too late to learn untried skills, and I pride myself in my willingness to attempt new occupations.  And I should dearly love to confound my brother.”

“I am not sure.  You have very fine things, and I would hate to spoil one of your beautiful dresses.”  Molly furrowed her brow, peered at Alex, grabbed her hand, and skimmed her palm.  “Just as I suspected.  No calluses and soft as a baby’s bottom.  I would wager your beau prefers you as such.”

“Perhaps we can broker an agreement, something that would benefit us both?”  Alex retrieved a napkin and a fork from a drawer.  “You admire my perfume.  I shall make you a bargain.  A bottle of France’s finest scent, in exchange for your housekeeping expertise and best recipes.”

“Oh, no.  That is not necessary.  If I help you, I will do so because I want to, not for personal gain.”  Molly frowned, as she seasoned the eggs and ham.  “And Cap’n pays a fair wage.”

“I have offended you.”  Alex retreated and retrenched.  “I apologize, Molly, as I never meant to insult you.  I had thought to reward your services, in kind.”

“Have a seat at the table.”  Molly dished the meal.  “And there is hot water in the kettle, if you wish to make tea.”

“Perfect.”  Alex located a serviceable pot and a canister of tealeaves and then halted.  “How much should I use?”

“You have never made tea?”  Molly blinked.  “You must live in a grand home, ma’am.  And I am not certain it is proper for me to use your given name.”

“Nonsense, as I am no snob.”  Alex picked up a spoon and opened the canister.  “Now, how much tea for the pot?”

“Mother says the rule of thumb is a spoon for you and another for the pot.”  After conveying the plate to the table, Molly retrieved a cup and saucer from a small cupboard.  “You should eat, before the food gets cold, ma’am.”

“Will you not call me Alex?”  She pulled out a chair and sat.  “As I would dearly like us to be friends.”

“Really?”  Molly poured a cup of tea and passed it to Alex.  “I have very few friends, as I do not socialize much, beyond my work or church on Sundays.”

“How sad for you.”  Alex sipped the steaming brew and could have cried.  “Oh, the tea is wonderful, and I made it, myself.  I feel so powerful.  You simply must show me everything, as I would prove to Jason that I am self-sufficient.”

“All right.”  Molly chuckled and settled in the opposite seat.  “I will make a trade, if you are willing.”

“Name it, dear Molly.”  Alex attacked the eggs.  “I am at your disposal.”

“It is embarrassing to admit, but I am a strain on my parents, and I would marry before my younger brother and sister suffer.”  The charwoman stared at the floor.  “As you seem a very fine lady, I wondered if you might help me catch a husband.”

Alex choked violently.

“Is something wrong with the food?”  Molly leaped to her feet, rounded the table, and smacked Alex on the back.  “Are you ill?”

“Everything is delicious.”  Alex swallowed hard and downed a healthy gulp of tea.  “You caught me by surprise.”

“I am sorry.”  The cook-maid shifted her weight and tugged on her long braid.  “Are you unfamiliar with the matter, as I know some may consider my request rather bold for a woman?”

“Oh, I am quite versed in bold behavior, Molly.”  If only the poor servant knew the truth.  “So has a particular gentleman caught your fancy, or are you speaking in general terms?”

“There is someone special.”  Molly compressed her lips.  “Tom Penniman, the stablemaster in Plymouth.”

“How charming.”  Alex envisioned her sea captain and smiled.  “Is he a man of character and good standing?  And does he share your affection?”

“Everyone speaks well of him, and he brings me flowers every Sunday, after church.”  Molly refilled Alex’s cup.  “And thank you for your friendship.  I must confess you are not what I expected when you appeared on the doorstep.”

“Oh?”  She recollected their initial meeting.  “What did you presume?”

“I had thought you one of those London society ladies, who have no interest in maids beyond how we serve them, much less consider us people with feelings.”  Molly bowed her head.  “I am sorry I misjudged you, as I should have known Cap’n would abide no snobbery in his kin.”

“No, Jason would not.”  A chill shivered down Alex’s spine, as Molly had provided food for thought.  “So you must tell me all about your conquest, and I vow to bring him to his knees, in no time.”

Molly gasped.  “But I do not wish to injure him.”

“I refer to a proposal, Molly.”  Alex giggled.  “And it will not hurt your Mr. Penniman to kneel.”

#

By the time Jason returned to the cottage that evening, he was exhausted.  After securing his horse, he rounded the side of the small structure and then paused.  Closing his eyes, he willed himself to resist the temptation Alex presented, but his body reacted to the mere thought of the brown-haired beauty.

Against his better judgment, he had allowed the source of his discomfit to remain at his rented lodgings, when everything inside him argued he should have sent her back to London.  So why had he permitted her to stay?

Because Jason wanted Alex.

It was with that singular thought dancing in his brain that he entered his temporary residence and found the one person he desired most, sitting on the sofa, with a serious expression, and concentrating on a repair to a shirt.  “Good evening, sweet lady.”

“Hello, Jason—
ouch
.”  Wincing, she stuck her injured finger in her mouth, and all manner of naughty imaginings assailed him.  “Is it possible to bleed to death from countless pinpricks?  And how was your day?”

“Productive.”  He laughed.  “And how about you?  Have you assisted Molly with repairs to my clothes?”

“Actually, I completed the mending, myself, because Molly feared I might ruin one of my dresses.”  Alex held a shirt for his inspection.  “She promised to bring a frock more suited to heavy labor, tomorrow.”

“My compliments to the seamstress, as I can scarcely note the stitches.”  Then he slipped his hand inside the sleeve and pulled the garment taut.  “Uh—Alex.  We seem to have a minor problem.”

“Oh?”  She gazed at the lace-edged cuff.  “Did I miss something?  Is there another tear?”

“Not quite.”  With a chuckle, he held the sleeve for her scrutiny.  “You sewed the end shut.”

“What?”  She wrenched and tugged at the fine lawn.  “This cannot be possible. 
Blast
.”

Jason burst into laughter.

“And just what do you find so funny, Jason Collingwood?”  With an impressive scowl, she yanked the offensive item from his grasp.  “After all my hard work and bloodshed.”

“There, there, my dear.”  He surrendered to another fit of guffaws but quieted when she cast him a fiery glare.  “It is only a shirt, and you are new to such work.”

“Bloody hell.”  With a groan, she rummaged through the remainder of the mending pile, emitting one unladylike curse after another.  “I repeated the same mistake on several sleeves. 
Oh
—I attached the end of this collar to the other.”

“Molly will help you set it right, in the morning.”  He patted her back.  “Perhaps I should wash up, while you serve dinner.”

“I will not ask Molly to correct my error, as this was my task, and I shall complete it if it takes until dawn.”  Crestfallen, Alex sighed.  “And I did so wish to please you.”

“You think me vexed?”  For a scarce second, Jason pondered his next move, as he knew from past experience he could not be too careful with the delectable Lady Seymour.  With that in mind, he settled on a half-hug and then sought shelter at the washstand.  “I am proud of your effort, love.  Now dish our meal, as you should replenish your strength, if you intend to sew all night.”

“You are horrible to make sport of my mishap.”  Alex stomped to the stove.

“Something smells delicious.”  Jason peered over his shoulder and winked.  “Did you prepare the food?”

“No,” she replied, with a precious pout, and he longed to bite her lip.  “Molly cooked before she departed, but she pledged to teach me a few of her best recipes, later this week.”

“Lord, save us.”  Jason rolled his eyes, as he could only conjure the potential for disaster.  “Just try not to burn down the house.”

“Blackguard, you take that back.”  Wielding a wooden spoon as a weapon, Alex bared her teeth.  “I can do anything, if I am so inclined, and I am most definitely inclined, sir.  Now not another word, or you will wear the contents of this pot.”

Jason clamped his mouth shut and splayed his palms in mock surrender.  And then they sat and ate in silence.  How disarming Alex was as she glanced at the mending pile and furrowed her brow.  And how it touched him that she cared so much for his good opinion.  Perhaps there was hope for them.  “Stop worrying about it.”

“I can’t.”  She drew her napkin from her lap, stood, and gathered the dirty dishes.  “Once I have cleaned the kitchen, I shall redo the repairs.”

“Alex, do not overtire yourself.”  He caught her by the wrist.  “I will not have you waning, and it is enough that you tried.”

“This was your idea.”  She snatched his plate.  “And I will do it right, or I shall cede the fight.”

And so Jason adjourned to his comfortable chair, lit a cigar, sipped his favorite brandy, and pretended to read the latest edition of
The Mariner’s Mirror
.  But Alex captured his attention to the detriment of all else.