Captain Of Her Heart (28 page)

“Yes, Cap’n.”  The lad shrugged and then charged forth from the study.

After a few minutes, Jason read his fledgling attempt at the stuff of poets and groaned.  Without ceremony, he crumpled the stationary into a ball, tossed it into the wastebasket, and began again.  Concentrating, he mulled the sentiments he ached to impart.

The second effort comprised a pitiful improvement on the first, so he sent the drivel into the trash and resolved to succeed with the third endeavor.  Scratching out various passages, he mixed half of one sentence with another and struck syrupy, maudlin gold.

So Jason transposed the poem to a clean sheet of parchment and admired his accomplishment.  “This is not so tricky as I had guessed, and I possess a talent that had been unknown to me.”

In that second, Tom returned, bearing two cut-glass vases.  “Miss Phipps said Lady Alex will have our heads if we break these.”

“Sit them on my desk, and let us storm the garden, in search of flowers.”  He folded the missive, slipped it into an envelope, and inscribed his bride’s name on the front.  “When we complete our arrangements, you may compose your love verse.”

“I dread it, sir.”  The stablemaster clutched his hands to his stomach.  “As I am no bard.”

“Nonsense.”  Jason chucked Tom’s shoulder.  “And I shall help you, as it turns out I am quite the sonneteer.”

#

My most beautiful Alex,

Your body is like a well-stocked larder;

How I love to weigh anchor in your honey harbor.

Your breasts like cannonballs make my Jolly Roger stout;

How your naughty finger work inspires me to shout.

—
Jason

Alex read and reread the card, which accompanied a rather unusual display, if she could call it such, of flowers, and burst into laughter.  Gasping for air, she swallowed hard and attempted to calm herself, but she surrendered to another fit of giggles.  At last, she wiped a tear from her eye, pressed a hand to her swollen belly, and examined what had to have been the most unique floral presentation she had ever received.

An elegant crystal vase, containing bits of leaves and twigs floating in muddy water, had been crammed, for lack of a better term, full of roses, to the extent that some blooms had broken and hung askew.  But the bundle also featured what appeared to be small branches from the hedgerow, to her inexpressible confusion and amusement.

“Merciful heavens, what is that mess?”  Miss Phipps stood, hands on hips, in the back parlor and frowned.  “I should reprimand the maid—”

“You will do no such thing, as they are a gift from Captain Collingwood.”  Sitting at her escritoire, Alex gazed at the arrangement, yes, that description was far too generous, and smiled.  No words could convey the heights of her delight.  “And never have I enjoyed lovelier roses.”

Then she glanced at Miss Phipps.  In unison, they collapsed in unrestrained mirth.

“Oh, dear.”  Gertie neared.  “Should I resituate the blooms and change the water, your ladyship?”

“No.”  In truth, Alex had not the heart to change one aspect of Jason’s gift, which she cherished as priceless artwork.  “I would not, for the life of me, diminish my husband’s overture.”

“But the roses will not survive more than a day or two, at most, in that muck.”  The housekeeper snickered.  “I should instruct him, else he will strip the bushes bare, with minimal reward.”

“You will say nothing, as I can always plant more.”  So her captain courted her, as promised.  Had she thought she loved Jason?  In that instant, her capacity for said emotion grew in epic proportions, filling her chest with heretofore-unimagined bliss, and confidence charged the field.  “Miss Phipps, I should like to change the dessert menu, for tonight.”

“Have you a craving, my lady?” Gertie queried, with a grin.  “I shall have cook prepare whatever you wish.”

“Indeed, I do.”  A sweet recollection jolted her memory, and Alex contemplated the logistics.  If she caught her husband in the right place, at the right time, she could pleasure him, on her knees, with her lips, given a fortuitously placed pillow.  With his hedonistic tutelage, had she not licked a favorite sweet from his most prized protuberance, in Plymouth?  “I should like cherry compote, with shortbread and mascarpone.”

Perhaps it was time for Alex to woo her captain.

#

“A pleasant afternoon, Molly.  Sorry, I am late, but the pantry ledger did not balance, and it took me almost an hour to reconcile the amounts.”  Alex strolled through the sitting room and into the bedchamber.  “And then there was a minor emergency in the kitchen.”

The household remained short of staff, and she had yet to hire a lady’s maid, because she found it difficult to replace Lily, her servant from Penhurst.  Lady’s maids were like extended family, and she counted Lily a friend, so Alex struggled to employ a successor.  So she compensated the nanny to perform the duties Jason had not assumed.

“I am ready for my bath, and I am in dire need of a long soak, so you may be excused, after you help me undress.”  Alex kicked off her slippers and stopped short.

The tub had been situated by the fireplace, and rose petals floated atop the water’s surface.  Pedestals, bearing huge floral arrangements, occupied almost every corner of the octagonal-shaped room.  As Alex rotated, she discovered her husband.

“I wager it is going to be a very pleasant afternoon, indeed, my lady wife.”  With a broad smile, Jason strutted from behind an oriental screen.  “And I owe you a boon, given your naughty tongue work, last night, which was quite spectacular.”

“And here I thought it was the cherry compote that inspired your raucous approbation.”  She gave him her back, and he loosened her laces.  “The roses are stunning.  Thank you, Jason.”

“The compote was nice, too.”  As he inched the dress to her waist, he pressed his lips to her temple and then cupped her breasts.  “And the roses are roses.  You are stunning.  How are your knees, today?”

“A little sore.”  Alex stepped free from her gown.  “Where is Molly?”

“I arranged a distraction for her, as well as you, so I might spring my surprise.”  Jason squatted to unhook her garters and remove her stockings.  “Oh, love.  You are bruised.”

“I shall select a thicker cushion, next time.”  When she wobbled, she grasped a handful of his hair.  “Wait a minute.  Did you start the fire?”

“What fire?”  Jason stood and drew her chemise over her head.  “As I lit the oven, but it was a ruse to divert you.  I used a little wood and added paper, so it would smoke, for dramatic effect.”

“A little wood?”  Alex snorted, as he led her to the bath.  How strange it was that her nudity no longer embarrassed her.  “I could have built a ship with the amount of timber you used, and you never burn paper in the oven, as the blaze is too hot.  Really, Jason, you could have brought the house down, about us.  As it stands, I might have to purchase a new oven.”

“Hell and the Reaper.”  Her captain adjusted a pillow behind her neck, as she reclined and sank into the fragrant water.  “Should I check the situation?”

“No, as I took care of it.”  Alex sighed and closed her eyes, but she stole a peek at her beautiful husband, as he stripped to his breeches and shirt.  “When I could not locate the lord of the manor, I summoned Mr. Penniman and Phipps, and they organized an impromptu fire brigade from the stable hands.  Everything is all right, though you scared ten years off Gertie’s life.  But the kitchen requires repainting.”

“Well, as no harm is done, let us enjoy your bath, sweetheart.”  As Jason rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, he glanced at her and winked.  “And the next time I am in London, I shall search out a tub large enough to accommodate two, for our townhouse and Stratfield.”

“Do you intend to wash me?” she inquired, when he picked up the bar of soap and worked a generous lather with a cloth.  “If so, you should take off your shirt.”

“As you wish.”  She bit her lip and shivered, when he shed the fine lawn from his impressive frame.  Then he snatched the soap and cloth from the floor.  “Are you chilled, love?  Is the water not warm enough?  Now, where were we?”

“Everything is perfect.  Jason, while I appreciate the roses and the poetry—why are you doing this?”  She shrieked, as he scrubbed the soles of her feet.  “We are married, and never did I anticipate such care.”

“Because you are my wife, and I am courting you.”  She bent forward, so he could bathe her back and shoulders.  “And I enjoy attending your needs, more than I thought I would.”

“Do you?”  She giggled, as he rubbed her belly, but the babes kicked, and she winced.  “Oh, our children are rowdy sorts, just like their father.”

“Does it hurt?”  With an expression of reverence, Jason stilled and pressed his palm over her navel.

“Sometimes.”  She sucked in a breath, as her precious cargo seemed to dance a jig.

“You are amazing, Alex.”  Jason rinsed the suds, bent, and kissed her girth.  “I am in awe of you.”

Once again, beneath his praise, she blossomed.  There was so much she wanted to tell her captain, but she lacked the courage.  Yet his belated courtship bolstered her nerve, and she vowed to declare herself, again.

“Thank you for my poem and the flowers.”  She giggled, as she recalled the verse.  “It was a very romantic gesture.”

“They are Collingwood originals, my dear.”  After depositing the soap in a basin, he collected a towel and lifted her from the tub.  As he dried her, he waggled his brows.  “Bet you never would have suspected I wrote such sentiments, had I not signed the note.”

“Oh, I believe I would have guessed.”  She clucked her tongue, as he blotted her cheeks.  “Now, it is time for our nap.”

As was his way, Jason swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed.  After situating the covers, he arranged the pillows.

“Wait.”  Alex caught his stare and drummed her fingers on the mattress.  “Remove your breeches.”

To wit her captain cast her a slow, sensual smile.  “Darling, while I am rather fond of your busy hands, what I most treasure is the glimpse of
my
Alex, when you touch me.”

“But I seem to recall you once sang an altogether different tune.”  She rolled on her side, assumed her usual position, and sought his self-professed stout Jolly Roger.  “Do you not remember your pledge to change me, when we were in London?  You said Damian coddled me to excess, and you would tame my fiery independence.  I had thought you might prefer my more fearful, sedate side.”

“I was never so wrong in my life, Alex.”  Cradling her head, he kissed her hair.  “Because you were perfect.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

There was pleasure in the morning, pleasure in the afternoon, and pleasure with the evening sun.  And if Jason could have coaxed his charming bride from her shell, or enticed her to permit him entry into hers, there would have been pleasure all throughout the night.  Alas, Alex refused to let him make love to her.

The rosewater bath had failed in its ambition, the chocolates he fed her as they lounged in the new gazebo had given him false hope, and so he had resorted to a desperate pursuit akin to that of a randy sailor just returned from a long voyage.  Still, his uncharacteristically shy bride had not relented.  Release had been claimed in the palm of her hand, and once in her succulent mouth, but not in her honey harbor.

“I beg your pardon, Cap’n.”  Carrying a small table, Phipps halted in the sitting room.  “Have you a preferable location?”

“Near the hearth, as the evenings are chilly.”  Although Jason enjoyed the tender interludes with his bride, and her naughty finger work, each subsequent climax intensified his desire for true intimacy.  Because the old Alex was a passionate creature, he believed he could resurrect his firebrand, once and for all, if they joined their bodies.  And that was his primary objective.  “Does my wife suspect anything?”

“No, sir.”  The butler grinned.  “The staff has worked hard to keep your secret.  And the stable hands are carrying up the chairs, using the back stairs, to avoid her ladyship.”

“Excellent.”  Untying his cravat, Jason strolled into his changing room.  “Hold the dinner bell for an extra five minutes, as I would dress for the occasion, and I prefer to be ready, when Alex enters our chamber.”

“Very good, Cap’n.”  Arnold cleared his throat.  “We are prepared.”

So what should a sea captain wear to seduce a gently bred noblewoman?  Never had Jason given much thought to his attire, as he had spent his formative years in a uniform.  When it came to sex, he opted for nudity, unless he had been at sea and could not have been bothered to undress beyond that necessary to achieve completion.

“Captain Collingwood?” Gertie called.  “Are you there, sir?”

“Yes, Miss Phipps?”  While Alex adored him in black formalwear, Jason selected a simple satin robe and matching trousers.  Both garments belted at the waist, so he could strip naked, jump in bed, deploy the Jolly Roger, and ravish his bride, in a matter of seconds.  Humming a bawdy shanty of seduction on the high seas, he assessed his reflection in the long mirror.  “Not bad, Collingwood.”

“I set the table, Cap’n.”  Gertie smiled, as he strutted into the bedchamber.  “Shall I deliver the entrees?”

“Have everything portioned into covered dishes.”  He combed and smoothed his hair.  “I intend to serve my wife, myself.”

“Yes, sir.”  She snickered.  “I hope you prove a better server than flower arranger.”

“Very funny, Gertie.”  At the washstand, he scrubbed his face and then applied a liberal amount of sandalwood, as Alex once confessed the scent drove her to the limits of self-control.

The new maid, a giggly silly girl, rolled a trolley, loaded with various silver salvers, into the room.  With Miss Phipps supervising, they completed the preparations.

The butler dipped his chin.  “Sir, we are ready.”

With one last check of his appearance, Jason rested hands on hips.  “Then signal my wife.”

A peaceful calm fell over the octagonal-shaped suite, as he twiddled his thumbs and paced the floor.  He embarked on a grand tour of the chamber, stopping at each bouquet of roses and sampling their scent.  Then he scratched his head, as he wondered whether or not he had lit too many candles.