The Captain's Pearl (19 page)

The quiet ride back to the house was the last tranquil moment they had. Guests converged on the house to offer condolences. Lianne was kept busy, but did have time to note that the members of the Stormhaven Abolitionists' Society were conspicuously absent. She had to admit she was glad they had not called. That hypocrisy would have shattered her fragile composure.

When the last guest had left, Lianne wandered out onto the dark porch. Her gaze turned toward the harbor and the Shadow ships. Father had trusted her to oversee them. She wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. She had made him proud as she had hoped.

Leaning her arms on the railing, she stared at the moonlight splashed across the sky. Footfalls sounded behind her as she continued to stare at the stars above the maple trees. The night made the thick branches appear as impenetrable as the wall surrounding Canton. She winced and looked at Bryce. Since his return to Stormhaven, her thoughts had wandered too often to the life she had had when she met him.

“I must go to New Bedford Saturday morning,” he murmured as he gazed at the sky.

“Saturday?”

He smiled. “Don't fret, blue eyes. I'll be back in plenty of time for the wedding.”

“You wouldn't miss it for the world. After all, it's not every man who gains so much with so few words.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Why does it gall you that Captain Catherwood acknowledged my skills with the ships? I want nothing to do with your work you do on shore.” His eyes narrowed to emerald slits. “Or is it your way of pretending you are not interested in this?”

His lips covered hers, gentle, demanding, unwilling to let her flee from the truth raging through her heart. Slowly her arms rose to encircle his shoulders, which were as unyielding as the spars of his ship. At her touch, his embrace tightened. Every inch of her was pressed to his broad chest and his powerful legs. When his tongue caressed hers, she moaned softly. So much had changed since she left Canton, so much, but not her yearning for Bryce Trevarian.

He raised his mouth from hers. Smoothing her loosened hair back from her face, he whispered, “Saturday can't come soon enough, blue eyes.”

“Bryce, I don't think—” His tongue tickled her ear until she giggled.

“Don't think. Just feel,” he murmured, every sibilant syllable shimmering in her. “Remember the night I first held you.”

“I don't like to remember that night.”

“Nor do I, except for when I held you in my arms.”

“That meant nothing to you!”

He shook his head, pulling her even closer. “How can you think I didn't want you that night?”

“You may have lusted for me, but how could you have had any love for me when you didn't know me?”

“Love?” He chuckled. “Love is for fools, blue eyes. It brings only grief and clinging which turns longing into disgust.”

Pushing herself out of his arms, Lianne stared at his face that was lit by the glow from the window. She started to speak more than once, then stopped. She wanted him to want her for more than the pleasure her body could offer and the Shadow Line.

“Dammit, you little fool!” he snarled. “Don't you know how stupid it would be to twist your heart about mine?”

“Yes!” she shot back, furious at him and her silly dreams that their story would end as happily as the fox's daughter's story in the thousand stories box.

“Good!” He pressed his lips over hers in a brief, fiery kiss. “Remember that, blue eyes. That is just the beginning of what we will share on Saturday night when you are mine.”

Her hand striking his face shocked her more than him. She heard him call to her as she ran into the house and up the stairs to the sanctuary he could not invade … yet. How easy it would be to love Bryce Trevarian if only he would love her in return! Too easy, and something, she told herself, she must never do.

Good advice, but far too late to save her anguished heart.

As Lianne stared into the mirror, she wondered where Iris had found orange blossoms for her hair. A piece of ecru veiling waited on her bed, but her gown would be funereal black.

“It is a shame such a lovely bride must be married in black,” crooned Great-Aunt Tildy from her chair in the corner of the bedroom.

“I would have no one think I didn't honor my father.”

“Nobody would accuse you of that, my child.” Rising stiffly, she leaned on a gold topped cane as she crossed the room to where Lianne continued to stare into the mirror. “It is not too late to end this before it begins.”

“I can't.” Lianne whirled away to the soft, accusing whisper of her satin petticoats. “Father depended on me to take care of the Shadow Line. It was his—” Hastily she corrected herself. “He would be pleased to have Bryce as his successor.”

When Great-Aunt Tildy placed her blue lined hand against Lianne's face, she whispered, “I knew Samuel since his birth, my child. For years, he was sad. I couldn't guess why until you arrived and I learned how he had missed your mother. You eased the grief in his heart.”

“I am glad.”

“Don't you understand, Lianne? He wouldn't want you to be sad. He loved you more than anything else in his life.” Her wrinkled cheeks became deep crevices as she smiled. “I wish I could have met your mother, Lianne. She must have been a remarkable woman.”

The most vicious pain erupted past her anxiety. “Mother may still be alive!” Walking to the fireplace, she held out her hands in black lace gloves. “Great-Aunt Tildy, may I be alone for a few minutes?”

There was a second of hesitation, then Great-Aunt Tildy answered, “Of course, child. I'll send Iris to get you when everyone is here.”

“Thank you.”

The tap of Great-Aunt Tildy's cane disappeared through the door and along the hallway.

Lianne did not move. This hurried wedding would be nothing like the glorious day she had planned for her and Weston.

That fairy tale was over. She could no longer believe her suitor would come riding up on a fleet charger to sweep her away from the handsome ogre she must wed. She shivered as she realized that beneath her imaginary knight's armor was Bryce Trevarian. Her shiver was not from the cold, but from the fire within her. A fire that her future husband had kindled with his fierce kisses.

Love or hate? She did not know which she felt for Bryce.

At a knock, Lianne opened the door and nodded to the maid standing there. She hurried down the stairs. Hyett was waiting in the foyer. He offered her a smile. She did not try to return it as she went to the front parlor.

She paused in the doorway. The guests were cluttered about the room, but her gaze was caught by Bryce's. He had become a dapper gentleman instead of a rogue. His coat was as black as her gown. Only his shirt was white, for his high collar was closed with a black cravat. Her trepidation drained away as he held out his hand. She placed hers in it.

Standing next to him, she repeated the vows which soldered her life to his. She was astounded by her thrill of happiness as she heard him promise to love and cherish her for the rest of their lives. A Catherwood never broke a promise. Did a Trevarian?

He drew off her left glove and slipped a ring on her fourth finger. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the symbol of yin-yang engraved in gold. Two small sapphires accented the design.

She could not ask where he had found it, because Bryce lifted her veil once Reverend Dover pronounced them man and wife. When Bryce's broad hands tilted her face toward his, she forgot everything but being in his arms. As his lips touched hers gently, she leaned toward him, wanting his touch to ease her excruciating need.

With a soft laugh, he whispered, “Soon, my dear wife. Soon.”

Lianne had no time to answer as their guests swarmed over them to offer them congratulations.

The usual hazing of the bride and groom was set aside in deference to Father's recent death. As the guests began to depart, she heard Bryce tell more than one that he would be working on the
China Shadow
in the morning. A pang went through her. Too many things demanded their time to enjoy a honeymoon, but she had hoped she could lure her husband away from his first love for more than one short night.

Bryce saw a swirl of black skirts fleeing up the stairs. “Why don't you come at midday tomorrow?” he asked the man standing beside him. “We can discuss the new mizzen for the
China Shadow
.”

“Captain, I—”

“Tomorrow!” He pushed past the man and left the room.

Although he would have enjoyed staying to discuss the ship's repair, the
China Shadow
's future had been assured with his wedding to Lianne. Now he must turn his thoughts to his marriage.

Taking the steps two at a time, he hesitated at the top as he looked at Lianne's closed door. How many times had he imagined completing the seduction that had been started in the despicable brothel? Now …

He smiled at the closed door. He never had considered that he would become Lianne's husband. Not that being married to her should change his life. His loyalty to the Shadow Line and his love for his ship—
his ship
—was the same. The sea was still his, and he had slender arms to enfold him when he arrived home.

All in all, it was the best life he could imagine.

He reached for the knob, half-expecting it to be locked, but the door opened easily. Glancing about the room, which was decorated with a feminine array of lace and pale blue wallpaper, he scowled. It was empty.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. With some guests still downstairs, he could not shout for his wife. Stamping into the hall, he saw a finger of light from beneath the door across the hall. He knocked.

“Come in, Bryce,” came Lianne's soft voice through the door.

He opened it and discovered a large room lost in a hushed twilight. Crimson drapes were pulled to shut out the day's last light. Furniture was scattered across the Oriental carpet, including a large bed.

When a door opened from what he guessed was a dressing room, his breath caught as he stared at Lianne. Dressed in a blue wrapper which matched the color of her eyes, she had loosened her hair to let it float in a black cloud along her back. The robe clung to her, suggesting the delights waiting beneath.

“I looked for you in your room.” He cursed the tremulous sound of his voice. It was not as if she were the first woman he had ever been with, but now she was the only one he wanted.

“Great-Aunt Tildy suggested we use these rooms. They belonged to Father and Davis's mother. I couldn't—” She glanced at her father's room on the other side of the dressing room.

“This is fine,” he said with soft sympathy.

Lianne said nothing as Bryce drew off his coat and dropped it over a chair. He pulled off his shoes and wiggled his toes. Loosening his cravat, he grinned. “These fancy things aren't for a man accustomed to a sailor's clothes.”

“You shall be wearing those clothes often now that you control the most important business in Stormhaven. Father was constantly entertaining investors from Boston.” She smiled ruefully. “At least that is something we can postpone for a few weeks.”

“Why? In honor of our nuptials?”

“No, in remembrance of Father's passing.” She stepped away from him.

“It is too bad he couldn't have seen this day,” Bryce said, pulling off his high collar. “It would have made him very happy.”

“If Father was alive, there would have been no reason for us to marry, Bryce.”

“Are you so sure? He made sure I received the letter
before
he died.”

She winced. She yearned to believe that her father had wanted her to be happy.

“You look frightened, blue eyes,” he whispered.

She started to reply, then realized he was speaking in Cantonese. The rich sounds were as sweet as rain on a summer's afternoon.

“You don't mind if we share this as our own private language of love, do you?” His hands reached for hers.

Weaving her fingers through his, she smiled. “It's the language of the first place I loved.”

“Now it shall be of the place where you are loved night after night.” With a laugh, he pulled her to him. “Be mine, blue eyes.”

“Yes,” she whispered, as all her hesitation vanished.

His lips were a soft whisper against hers as he kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other. The tip of his tongue warmed her lips as each shallow breath brushed her against the hard planes of his chest.

When his mouth traveled along her high cheekbones to the crescent of her ear, she moaned with soft desire. She wanted him. She wanted his kisses and to taste the masculine textures of his body. She wanted to give him the pleasure he offered her.

He laughed when she undid his dress shirt. “Eager, are you?”

“Aren't you?”

“You
have
changed,” he whispered, as her fingers spread across his chest, exploring his firm muscles. “In Canton, you cringed from me.”

“Would you prefer I kneel with my head against your feet?” she asked, with a soft laugh.

He put his arm under her knees and lifted her easily. Her hair draped over his arm. Resting her head against his chest, she delighted in the swift beat of his heart. When he placed her in the nest of pillows, he slanted across her, his hand on the curve of her hip. “I don't want you kneeling, blue eyes. I want you in my arms as we find the rapture waiting deep within you.”

His shirt gaped as he undid the sash on her wrapper. His fingers elicited succulent sensations that left her toes curling in anticipation. She started to slide his shirt off his arms, but she halted as his lips played along her neck. Wrapping her arms around his bare back, she pulled him closer, yearning for him against her. Her fingers combed through his thick hair as his mustache teased her skin.

She whispered his name as his mouth traveled along the lace dipping low across her breasts. His hushed laugh throbbed through her liked a storm wave pounding the shore.