The Diamond King (27 page)

“Aye,” Claude said. “And you? When will you return?” His gaze went to Jenna, who was still standing in the captain’s shadow, still held close by his arm.

“In the morning. The governor wants us to accept his hospitality tonight, seeing that I have neglected my wife so badly.”

Claude raised a bushy dark eyebrow.

“I do not have a choice,” the captain said wearily. “Lady Jenna has convinced him she and I have friends in very high places in France, and that we are indeed husband and wife. We cannot decline his hospitality without raising questions.”

“He will let us sail out?”

“Aye. I offered him the
Charlotte
. We will sell its contents. That seemed to alleviate some of his fear of the English. But he could still change his mind. If for some reason we do not make it back, I want you to set sail. It’s a new moon. Done slyly, you should be able to escape the fort’s guns.”

“Leave you?”

“I want the children safe. And the crew.”

“They will take their risks with you.”

“Nay, they will not,” the captain said. “Now go, before our host changes his mind.”

“Aye, sir.” He said it reluctantly.

“Now!” the captain snapped.

Claude disappeared out the door without another word.

The captain lowered his arm from her waist and walked over to the window. She joined him and looked outside, following the path of his gaze.

Claude emerged from the residence. He was met by Burke and Robin outside. The three walked down the walk, accompanied by one soldier.

The captain turned to her. “I should go back and have that cigar with the governor.”

She could only look up at him. She was feeling steadier now, but still had a flutter in her stomach.

“Take the bed,” he said curtly. “I will sleep on the floor.”

He could not wait to leave her. A chill displaced the warmth that had infused her at his touch. Perversely, she was wounded. She had worried about being alone with him, but it was not because he repelled her. Just the opposite—he aroused any number of wayward feelings in her.

His rejection was devastating. He could not stand being in her presence. The brief satisfaction at accomplishing something faded. She was no more to him than she had been the day he had taken her ship.

She was a fool to even entertain such thoughts, yet they had crept up upon her and would not leave.

She turned away from him, holding herself rigid, trying to keep tears from gathering in her eyes. She remained that way until she heard the door open and close.

A knock at the door sent a jolt of expectation through her, but when she opened it, a maid stood there, her hands full.

“My mistress sent this for you,” she said, spreading out a nightdress and robe across the bed. The nightdress was a fine lawn, its neck embarrassingly low, and there were no sleeves.

“
Merci
,” she said as the woman backed out the door.

Jenna slowly took off her gloves, glaring at the birthmark on her hand and arm, then stepped out of the hooped petticoat, watching as the green dress dropped to the floor.

She shed her clothes down to the chemise, then hesitated. Should she wear that, or the nightdress?

Then she realized it did not matter. The captain obviously had no interest in her. But the nightdress was lighter and would be more comfortable. She stood and looked in the mirror as she took the pins from her hair, letting it fall around her face. She should braid it, but...

Instead, she crawled into the large bed that dominated the room.

She pulled the coverlet over her and sank in the feather mattress.

And she had never felt so alone in her life, not even when she’d stepped foot on the
Ami
. She’d then had her anger and indignation as armor. She’d built a wall around her heart.

When had it been breeched?

She was appalled when a tear wandered down her cheek and dampened the pillow.

Alex had been stung by the effect of touching the Campbell lass. Even more stung by the vulnerability in her eyes. He had seen so many emotions in them this evening: trepidation, fear, pride. They had all touched him in ways he thought impossible.

Most painful of all was the desire that stirred in his loins. He wanted her. He could not deny that any longer.

He had tried to convince himself that his attraction toward her was nothing more than his lack of female companionship in nearly two years, that it was only the natural need of a man for any woman.

But as he’d watched her during supper, he knew it went much deeper than that. He had been stunned by the very audacity of her actions. That she was intrepid enough not only to do what she had done, but to plan it, was unbelievable. That she had been able to fool a Frenchman and his wife that they were wed was astonishing. That she had bluffed the governor into believing he—Alex—had far more important backers than he ever dreamed of was even more incredible.

That she would do it at all was beyond his comprehension.

He had also been uncomfortably aware of a stab of jealousy at the leering way the governor had looked at her.

To his surprise, he’d taken umbrage at such overt lust.

He surprised himself even more by risking everything by changing his mind and accepting the governor’s invitation for brandy. It was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

Next to the last thing, he corrected himself.

The last thing was being alone in a bedchamber with her.

One brandy led to another.

“Your lady was very positive she wanted to be with you,” the governor said after the second one.

“She is feeling unwell,” Alex said. “She said it must be the bairn. There is a change of moods, I am told, when a woman is with child.”

“
Oui
,” the governor said gloomily. “I fear it is true.”

“I will purchase something lovely for her tomorrow.”

“She is a very interesting woman,” the governor said.

Alex could not agree more. “
Oui
,” he said.

“You did not strike me as the marrying kind,” the governor said.

“There is always a woman who can make you change your mind,” Alex said. He had never quite believed it. A few of his friends had married well, but he had never seen a woman with whom he wanted to spend a lifetime.

But those friends were dead now, their wives either dead or fled to places safer than today’s Scotland.

He had given up any idea of a future. He was a poor prospect indeed.

The governor stood. “I will not keep you from her any longer,” he said. “My wife has sent up a nightdress and night robe.”

“My thanks for your hospitality.”

“I... apologize for the brief misunderstanding,” the governor said. “But we are in a very precarious place here on the island. We are so close to the English and we do not have the French troops we need. We have only the fort, and if they attack from the other side ...”

“I understand, your excellency. I want nothing to interfere with our mutual interests.”

The governor fairly glowed with good wishes. “I too have that desire.”

He started for the door, then turned around and leered again. “And say a pleasant good night to your wife on my behalf. As I said, I envy you.”

If only the governor knew that the Campbell lass was here only because of two children, not for him. She had no doubt braced herself for his return to the room. She must have felt the attraction between them, but she was fighting it as bitterly as he.

The world was between them. Not just a name.

He suspected the floor was going to be only a small part of his discomfort.

Alex paused before the room assigned him, trying to decide whether to knock.

But surely she would be abed. Hopefully asleep. He certainly did not wish to waken her.

He opened the door. An oil lamp flickered on a table in the room. She’d apparently left it lit for his convenience.

He pulled off his boots and his waistcoat, then sprawled in a chair, looking wistfully at the large feather bed.

She was lying on her side, her hair spread over the pillow. He longed to go over and run his fingers through it.

Hell, he longed to crawl into bed next to her and sate the ache in his loins. He would not sleep this night. He knew that. Not as long as she was in this room.

Alex saw her dress and the petticoat laid neatly on a chair, the bonnet she’d worn next to it. She had been shielded by clothes earlier. He wondered what armor she wore now.

He damned himself for such thoughts. Yet they would not go away. He trod quietly to the window. Dear God, how he was tempted to leave this room now and return to his ship. But that would belie the marriage they’d claimed, and one lie would suggest another.

To want something so badly, and be in such proximity to the object of that want, was akin to walking through hell.

He suddenly realized that he had not said a kind word to her tonight. Not a compliment or even the slightest expression of gratitude. He told himself it had been his shock, then lack of opportunity. Or was it resentment because he had been thrust into the position of owing a Campbell?

She was no longer a Campbell in his mind. She had, instead, become a woman unfettered by convention and traditional code. In his estimation, that took more courage than a man doing what was expected of him and going into battle. It was that woman who so intrigued and attracted him.

The woman with eyes the color of the sea and the wide generous mouth and the soft and lovely voice.

His nerves tingled. The ache throbbed. His skin seemed to burn even in the breeze that cooled the room.

He turned and found her watching him. In those few moments she had awakened—if she had been asleep at all.

He strode to the bed and sat down beside her. She seemed to withdraw into its depths.

“I did not thank you earlier,” he said softly. “I thank you now.”

“A Campbell?” she asked warily.

He then saw a small trail on her face. Dried tears. In all that had happened, he had never seen her cry. And then she had cried alone.

He felt like a bastard. A man who had forsaken his sense of justice in favor of hatred of a mere name.

“Aye,” he said. “A Campbell. And a brave and bonny woman.”

Her eyes widened.

“I did not thank you, either, for all you’ve done for Meg.”

“I did not do it for you.”

“I know that,” he said, knowing a smile was playing along his lips. How well he knew that.

“Has the governor changed his mind again?” she asked suspiciously, as if she believed he could have no other reason to be kind.

“Nay, you thoroughly charmed him with your tale of a wayward husband and bairn to be.”

“I could not think of anything else,” she explained, obviously unsure whether he approved or not.

“It did take me by surprise,” he said.

“You did not act like it.”

“I learned long ago not to react to circumstances.”

“And I am a circumstance?”

“Aye, a very intriguing one.”

“Why?” Her expression turned from wary to curious.

“Why would you help your captor? The man who kept you from your marriage?”

“Because ... I did not want the children to be at risk.”

“At the cost of your own future?”

He watched her swallow hard. “I have never met the man I was to marry.” He saw pain in her eyes, a pain so deep that it reached out and touched a heart hardened to tragedy.

“Then why?” he asked.

“You have seen my arm,” she said bitterly.

“Aye, a birthmark.”

“Many do not see it that way. They believe it is the devil’s mark, or that I am ... tainted in some way. My family kept me away from others. There were no ... suitors. Mr. Murray’s wife died. He needed a wife, a mother for his children. My father also offered a ... substantial dowry.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. She was being discarded because of something over which she had no power.

He touched her cheek, gently running a finger down the trail of dried tears. “Why did you accept?” he asked.

“I want... children.”

There was so much anguish in her words. He wondered whether she had ever been loved for herself, ever felt the security that he had as a child. He and his sister, Janet, had lost everything, but they’d had a heritage of love.

Janet had married the first time for the same reason as Jeanette was giving. She’d lost the one man she’d ever loved, and settled, instead, for a marriage with a man who had three daughters because she loved children. It had been a marriage made, consummated, and endured in hell.

Had Jeanette been sailing toward the same fate?

Yet he had nothing to offer, either. Any woman foolish enough to care about him could soon be a widow with a traitor’s name. Still, that odd attraction was more compelling than ever. He saw in her eyes a recognition of that fact, and he felt that they were both about ready to be swept into a whirlpool of currents that resisted all reason. He needed to step back, to get away from her.

Now.

Instead, he smoothed his thumb across her eyebrows, feeling the silk of them, over cheeks, feeling the heat, the softness. “Do not settle,” he whispered.

She moved, her hands appearing from beneath the coverlet, revealing the nightdress and its low neck. He could see the slight swelling of her breasts, the slight movement as her heart beat. She regarded him silently, her eyes full of questions.

“My sister married someone because she fell in love with his children,” he said. “He was a monster.”

“What happened?” she said.

“He died,” Alex said shortly, still trying to fight the urge to touch, to comfort, to savor.

“Where is she now?”

He was silent for several moments, unsure how much he wanted to tell her. There was already too much intimacy between them. He could not let her know his true name, nor his sister’s, or he could put Janet in real danger, along with her new husband.

“Safe,” he said more curtly than he intended.

She nodded. Accepting. For the first time, he wondered whether “safe” had meaning for her. He thought about her earlier words.
My family kept me away from others
. No self-pity. Just a statement of fact.