Captain Of Her Heart (19 page)

But how could he revive his much-cherished vixen sans anger?

The answer, when it came to him, seemed so pedestrian.  In what had become a familiar, if not exasperating, routine, Jason rounded his desk, plopped into his chair, and grimaced as the usual nettlesome cloud of dust engulfed him.  “Bloody everlasting hell.”

Why was it Alex had bought furniture for almost every room in their house but had yet to purchase a new chair or desk for his domain?  Once the smoke cleared, he retrieved a wooden box, withdrew a stack of notes, and counted an ample sum.  Bills in hand, he trod to the bellpull and yanked hard.

Seconds later, Phipps entered the study.  “Yes, sir?”

“Give this money to Miss Goodbody.”  When he returned to his desk, he sat with care.  “Tell her there has been a mistake, and we have no need of her services, thus we wish to compensate her for her trouble.  That will be all, Phipps.”

“As you wish, sir.”  Arnie snickered, and Jason would have taken exception to the concurrent smirk had he not more important matters on his mind.

The gaping hole from the broken drawer all but mocked him, as he recalled where he had stored his stationary, and he shifted to the left.  When the aged knob broke off in his hand, Jason swore a slew of invective and used a letter opener to pry the panel loose.  With parchment in grasp, he wrenched the pen from the inkstand.  It was time to enlist the full compliment of the Brethren husbands.

#

What does she look like?  S.

It was a curious question.

Three days after the nefarious nursemaid fiasco, Jason sat in his study and rubbed his chin, as he pondered the letter he had received by special messenger.  The correspondence relayed Everett’s response to the disastrous hiring, and subsequent firing, of Miss Goodbody.

To Jason’s dismay, Everett seemed just as perplexed by Alex’s ferocious reaction to the potential nanny, because Sabrina had acted quite the opposite.  As Jason read and reread the missive, disappointment invested his frame and chilled his marrow, until he noted the singular sentence, written in telltale feminine script, at the bottom of the stationary.

But what had Sabrina meant?

When he had penned the advertisement for
The Times
, which announced the search for a nursemaid, the qualifications focused not on appearances, as that had not signified from his perspective.  Instead, Jason had centered his concerns on the prospective candidate’s ability to supervise his children.  Still, as he had solicited the advice, common sense suggested he should consider Sabrina and Everett’s opinion.

If memory served, Miss Goodbody was young, had blonde hair, blue eyes, a trim figure, and, oh yes, very large—Jason almost fell out of his chair. “Hell and the Reaper.”

Could the solution have been so obvious?  Was the answer so simple?  While Alex had always struck him as a complex coquette, when it came to matters of the heart she viewed the world in such elementary concepts as black and white.  And she possessed a jealous streak that had set him on his heels the night he had dared ask a particular widow to dance.  “It is no small wonder she did not kill me.”

With recharged confidence, he jumped from his seat, marched to the door, and set wide the oak panel.  In the foyer, Phipps bowed, and Jason halted.  “Where is my wife?”

“In the back parlor, Captain.”  Arnie smiled.  “The new cook burned the afternoon refreshments.”

“That does not bode well for dinner.”  Or his difficult bride’s mood.  As he entered the back parlor, Alex rested hands on hips.

“You must be firm with your staff, Gertie.  Else they may take advantage of you.”  Alex inclined her head.  “If the tea is too cold and the biscuits too hard, return the tray to the kitchen.  If you reject mediocrity at the outset, it will never persist in this household.”

“Yes, my lady.”  Miss Phipps curtseyed.  “I promise to do better.”

“Do not fret, dear friend.  With patience and understanding, we will get it right.”  Just then, Alex peered at him, and Jason could only pray she would offer him similar courtesy, given she had said almost nothing to him since the incident with Miss Goodbody.  “That will be all, Gertie.”

The housekeeper cast him an expression of sympathy, as he held open the door for her.  Once alone with his perplexing spouse, he folded his arms, and she turned and gazed out the window.  “I wish to speak with you.”

“Indeed?”  She stiffened, and he stalked her.  “Make an appointment, as my schedule is full for today.”

“I think not, as we are married, thus all prior engagements must perforce yield to mine.”  Ignoring her frown, he escorted her to the
chaise
.  “Have a seat, my lovely wife.  There is something I wish to discuss, which remains unsettled between us.”

“Oh?  Am I remiss in my duties?”  Reclining amid the pillows, she refused to meet his stare, even when he perched beside her, drew her feet into his lap, and removed her slippers.  “What did I forget?”

“A matter of significance.”  Braced for a lightning strike, Jason caressed her ankles.  “Miss Goodbody.”

“Humph.”  Alex’s scowl would have made the most experienced sailor quiver in his boots.  “I refuse to confer about that woman.”

“Excellent.  Then you may listen to me.”  Considering his words, he mulled the precious ground he had lost in his attempt to make strides with his wife.  “My lady, I admit I made a mistake in hiring Miss Goodbody, as I should have consulted with you, regarding your requirements for the position.  What I do not understand is your presumption regarding her commitments as a member of this household.  Would you please explain to me what you found so offensive in her person?”

“Aside from the fact that she was to act as your mistress?”  Alex sniffed.

“I beg your pardon?”  Befuddled, an annoying state to which he had become accustomed, of late, Jason scratched his cheek.  “What on earth ever gave you such a ridiculous notion?”

“The woman was unsuitable.”  She lifted her chin and frowned.

“Based on what criteria?”  Again, he reviewed his prerequisites for employment.

“You can’t be serious.”  Alex snorted.  “The only thing Miss Goodbody is fit to serve is ale in a dockside tavern—and I would wager that would not be the lone offering on her menu.”

“And you know this—how?”  What had he missed?  What critical piece of the puzzle eluded him?

“Her hair was strewn about her shoulders, not in the respectable top-knot one would expect of an individual in her profession.  Her attire was immodest, in contrast to the usual decorous uniform of a nanny.  And she is too young.  Were she a lady of character, she would still require a governess.”  Then Alex quieted, and she furrowed her brow.  “And her...bosom is enormous.”

“But I thought that made her perfect for the job.”  Jason studied the pattern on the rug.  “Should not all nannies possess such ample endowments?”

“
What
?”  His bride appeared on the verge of an apoplectic fit.

He gulped.  “Forget I said that.”

“Not a chance.”  Had he thought her fierce?  “Expound on your assumption—now.”

“I figured her breasts would prove useful—”

She shrieked.  “In what manner?”

“In the event you chose to use her as a wet nurse for the babes.”  So much for improving their relations.  “Given we anticipate twins, she would have produced plenty of milk for our children.”

For a protracted pause, Alex stammered, choked, and blinked.  Then, to his utter dismay, she burst into laughter.  Just when it seemed she would calm herself, his confounding wife collapsed into another unrestrained fit of hilarity.  In a state of unrest, Jason shifted and rolled his shoulders.

“Oh, dear.”  Pale, she swallowed hard, giggled, and wiped a stray tear.  “Do you really believe large breasts equate more milk?”

Unsure how to respond, he shrugged.

“Jason Collingwood.”  At last, she smiled, and he sighed in relief.  “Never have I heard anything so preposterous.”

“Well, it seemed logical, at the time.”  And he had rushed the interview, in his haste to please Alex.  “I was only trying to help, as you have been occupied with the new staff and the renovations.”

“How thoughtful, silly man.”  She wiggled her toes, and he teased the soles of her feet with his fingers, eliciting a glorious yelp.  “Whatever am I to do with you?”

“Why, whatever you wish, my lady wife.  So is it safe to presume my innocent, if incorrect, assumption incited your anger?”  Now he stroked her shapely calves.  “Did you truly believe I intended to avail myself of Miss Goodbody’s...body?”

“Yes.”  The poor darling appeared so remorseful he could not summon a rebuke.  “I am ashamed to admit I did, but in my defense, that is customary behavior for men of the
ton
.”

“My dear, I wish—very much—that you had voiced your objection to Miss Goodbody before weaving unsustainable conclusions from whole cloth.  You could have spared us needless suffering.”  Of course, Jason recalled the difficulties surrounding their marriage, and her supposition was not unreasonable.  “And while I am familiar with the shenanigans characteristic of so-called noblemen, I must again stress the fact that I am a simple sailor.  In front of your brother and Mr. Catchpole, I vowed to keep myself only unto you, and I meant it.  There will be no mistresses between us, not now, not ever.”

“Then I owe you an apology.”  As Alex adopted a charming pout, he fought the urge to nibble on her delectable little chin.  “I see now that you were, in your way, trying to be of use.  And it would be nice to have a reliable nanny, but I would hire someone I know, as I will not place our children in the custody of a stranger.  I suppose I overreacted.”

“It is all right.  This marriage business is like navigating unfamiliar waters, so we are bound to strike breakers.  And I am soon to be a father, something about which I know nothing.”  In play, he tapped a finger to the tip of her cute nose and then cupped her cheek.  “In future, might I suggest you tell me when I have offended you?  It would make life simpler, as I cannot read your mind.”

“I will do my best.”  With a smoldering, sexy stare reminiscent of happier days, Alex turned into his palm and set her lips to his heated flesh.

Jason went up in smoke.

How long had it been since they had made love?  Judging from his reaction to a kiss that had not involved his mouth, it had been far too long.  Without thought, he drew her near, leaned forward, and kissed her.

And she kissed him.

When Alex twined her fingers in his hair and held him to her, he groaned, as he had primed for another wicked slap on the cheek.  So when she prodded him with her tongue, licked and suckled his, he could have cried like a baby.

“Jason.”  With a breathy sigh, she scored her nails at the nape of his neck.

“Alex.”  How he had missed her.

Then she flinched and retreated.  “Oh, Jason.”

“Oh, Alex.”  He closed the distance.

“The bowl.”  She flicked her fingers.  “Hurry.”

A porcelain dish, bearing painted rosebuds, sat atop the table, and he snatched the delicate container.  “You mean this?”

With nary a word of warning, his wife bent and disgorged the contents of her belly.  Well
that
killed the mood.  Had his hedonistic skills deteriorated to the point that the only response he could summon from his bride was a violent round of retching?

“I am so sorry.”  Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, as Alex again heaved hard.

“No worries, love.”  In that instant, Jason realized she rued the interruption, too.  When she teetered, he wrapped his arm about her and offered support, which she accepted with an unmistakable countenance of pure gratitude.  And although she had not conveyed such sentiment, he apprehended that she required his assistance.  In that moment, everything changed.

While he had focused exclusively on material expressions of affection, intended to foster marital accord and some semblance of trust, he had ignored his greatest advantage.  In short, Alex needed his strength, his comfort—him.  How could he have been so blind?

As she grew weak, she swayed, so he lifted her into his lap, as he balanced the bowl.  For a brief second, he thought she might resist his care.  Instead, his wife closed her eyes and collapsed against him.  “Better?”

“Yes.”  She sighed, as he wiped her brow with his handkerchief.

“Is this normal, sweetheart?”  He tucked a dangling tendril behind her ear.  “Does the sickness always last so long, or are there complications?”

“According to Dr. Handley, it varies.  Some women suffer nausea until they give birth.  Perhaps you should—
oh
.”  He retrieved the bowl in the nick of time, as she suffered another blow to her constitution.

“Hush, darling.  Do not try to speak.”  As she wrenched and convulsed, he held her.  “Poor little thing.  You have had a terrible go of it.”

After a few minutes, Alex relaxed in his arms and gasped for air.  For a long while, Jason held his bride and marveled when their babes moved in her belly.  With each successive motion, something within him stirred.  It was a foreign sensation, neither sensual nor companionable, but nonetheless powerful.

It sparked as a weight in his chest and spread, as comforting warmth, throughout his limbs.  Then the odd awareness charged every nerve, and he gave Alex a gentle squeeze.  While countless women had ventured into his lap during his naval tenure, none had been his wife, heavy with his heirs.  That remarkable fact, alone, made the experience with his bride far more arresting.

The door opened, and Alex started.

“Pardon my intrusion.”  Gertie halted.  “Is her ladyship unwell?”

“Indeed, and I would appreciate it if you would return the bowl to the kitchen.”  Jason cradled Alex’s head.  “And would you bring us a ewer of cool water and a clean cloth?”

“Of course, sir.”  Gertie dipped her chin.

“But I am quite recovered.”  His wife shifted.

“Nonsense, my dear.”  He nuzzled her temple.  “You are as green as a toad.  Allow me to dote upon you, please.  I find, to my surprise, I rather fancy this aspect of married life.”