***
Exhausted and disgruntled, Alex wove his way back to the
Wellington house through the dark streets of Boston. The cold north wind
gusting leaves around his feet warned it was time to weigh anchor before winter’s
ice formed in the rigging. If he had his way, he would fling his wife over his
shoulder and ship out now. These damn stubborn Yankees had worn his patience to
the bone.
The earl was cozily warming his toes at the governor’s fire.
Now that the stamps were safely in hands that would dispose of them without
warfare, Alex was ready for his own bed. Evelyn had sent him on this wild-goose
chase. Now that he’d bagged the bird, he hoped she would be suitably grateful.
He had the nagging feeling that she would not.
The house was dark and cold when he entered, the kitchen
fire long since banked. He had no appetite for food, however. The desire for
sleep had even overcome lust. All he wanted was to be in the peace of his bed
with the warmth of his wife cuddled against him. He had never bothered to set
up a mistress whose favors he could enjoy all night, but he rather liked the
notion of waking to a warm and willing woman—sometime tomorrow afternoon,
preferably.
Wearily but with a wariness developed over the years, Alex
pushed open Evelyn’s bedroom door. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was not
bolted against him.
He searched the massive shadow of the hand-carved poster bed
by the window. Before he could determine if the bed was occupied, a candle wick
caught and Evelyn’s pale face emerged from the darkness.
She wore her hair in a single thick braid. Light wisps danced
in a draft as she reached for her robe. The high-necked flannel gown she wore
was not at all to Alex’s liking, but he could detect her slender figure beneath
the soft cloth. He stayed her hand to prevent her reaching for the robe.
“You don’t need that. Climb under the covers and I will join
you.” He began shrugging out of his coat, damning the tailor for sizing him so
correctly that the cloth had to be peeled like a second skin from his back.
“No, not until we talk.” Evelyn snatched her hand away as if
his touch burnt and reached again for the robe.
“Don’t, Evelyn. I’m too tired to talk.” Alex felt the
weariness descend like a heavy weight upon his shoulders. The intimacies of the
marriage chamber were new to him too—not the physical intimacies, but the
emotional ones. He had opened himself to this woman more than to any other
person in his life. The vulnerability left him uneasy.
“Very well, then, don’t talk. Tell me when you are ready. I
will be downstairs on the sofa.” Evelyn wrapped her robe around her and
searched for her slippers with her feet.
“Dammit, Evelyn, I’ve been up for three days and two nights,
and I can scarcely think, much less talk. I just want to sleep. Can you not be
reasonable about this?”
“I am being reasonable. I told you to sleep. I am simply
unwilling to go to bed with a man who has not been home in three days and two
nights after marrying me. You did not even send a note or a message or give a
thought to my feelings in the matter. I thought you would at least wait until
you tired of me before returning to your self-indulgent ways, but it seems that
now that everyone’s honor has been preserved, our marriage is of little
consequence. Good night, Alex.” Evelyn tried to push around Alex to reach the
door.
He didn’t touch her, but he refused to step away. Crossing
his arms, he glared at her with fury. “
My
self-indulgent ways? Had you
not been busy indulging in your usual disgraceful pastimes, you would not only
have received my message but also have been here when I came back to explain my
delay! Would you care to tell me where you went in the middle of our wedding
night? What scrape were you determined to get into that you sent me galloping
off on fool’s errands the same night we were wedded?”
“Disgraceful pastimes? Fool’s errands? Is that all you think
of what we are fighting for? If that is so, it seems passing strange that you
would concern yourself at all. Why did you not just drag me home by the hair,
take what you wanted, and then join your drunken cronies in some tavern? Would
that not have been more to your taste?”
“While I’m at it, why don’t I turn my shrew of a wife over
my knee and beat some sense into her thick head? Did you think to stay here and
continue playing at being a man once we were married, and I had paid your
fines? Let me disabuse you of that notion now, dear wife. I have no intention
of paying that fine. You will come with me or go to jail!”
“Bastard! I knew that’s what you had planned. Why me? Why
must I be the one forced to suffer the cruelty of being your wife? Were all the
others too timid to linger in your presence long enough? Damn you, Alex Hampton,
you will see how little afraid I am! I will find those smugglers and turn them
over to the court, and I will be free. You can go to hell!”
Evelyn shoved past him, racing for the door, but Alex
grabbed her arm and flung her to the bed. Her words had pierced him more
cruelly than she would know, more cruelly than he had anticipated, because they
came too close to truth. He had used his size often enough to intimidate, to
keep people at their distance. Women feared him. His manners were not gentle,
nor did he attempt to gentle them. His distaste for their sex was evident, even
when his need for them was great, perhaps more so because of it. Evelyn was the
only one to look at who he was, to stand up to him when he was wrong, to come
to him with the same need he had for her. And now she had seen him as he truly
was, a villain.
She did not cower against the bed where he had thrown her.
She merely threw her legs over the end and attempted to escape in that
direction. Alex almost let her go, but he could not. He reached for her out of
instinct and threw her back to the bed out of weariness, rather than crush her
in his arms and force her to surrender.
The challenge was not in taking her, but in forcing a woman
as strong as Evelyn to come to
him
.
He had thought he had accomplished it. Instead, he had proved his own weakness.
“I will not disturb your slumber any longer. I will leave.”
Alex towered over her recumbent form as she rose to her elbows to fight him
again. In the candlelight he could see the soft outline of her breasts against
the worn material, could almost feel the tininess of her waist between his
hands. A flicker of fear gave away her realization that he could tear her in
two if he so desired, and he clenched his fists against rage and helplessness. “But
understand this”—he rested his hands on his hips as he glared down at her—“you
are going with me. Your mother deserves better than a daughter in jail and a
son-in-law who departs and leaves his wife behind. She is eager for this
journey.”
***
That was the strangest argument Evelyn had ever heard.
Perhaps Alex was too tired to think. Obviously he was too tired to be sensible.
She wished she could see his face, but he stood above the candle’s light.
Still, it was not fear she felt when he stood so close. She longed to reach out
and urge him to rest beside her, despite knowing the danger.
Her gaze was on a level with his hips, and the candle was
close enough to that height to reveal the effect she had on him. She forced her
gaze back in the direction of his face.
Before she could utter a word, he was gone. Suddenly
realizing she was freezing, Evelyn pulled the covers around her while she
kneeled at the window. With heart-rending anguish she waited for the sight of
Alex leaving to ease his needs with his tavern doxy.
When no familiar masculine figure stormed out the door, her
stomach clenched tighter. Did he mean to come back? Should she bar the door or
have some words of apology ready?
She listened and heard his footsteps echo through the
carpetless hallway. The sofa she had offered to sleep on was swathed in covers,
and there would be no fire in the hearth. She heard the rattle of kindling in
the bin and imagined the spark of flint on stone. He was lighting a fire.
Curling down between the covers, she listened as he made the
fire and sought cushions for his head. The sofa was a large one, but she did
not think it over six feet long. He would spend an uncomfortable night in such
a bed.
He’d made that bed. Let him sleep in it. Spitefully, Evelyn
turned over and clenched her eyes shut. He had forced her into this marriage
for reasons of his own. Let him learn to live with it.
The loneliness of the cold bed made her want to weep for
what could have been, but she saw now how wrong she had been in choosing a man
who could not love her. There would never be any trust between them. The
promise she had felt in that brief dance before their wedding was a myth of her
own wishful thinking. She had imagined happiness where there was none.
She drifted off to sleep, to dream of dark eyes and a
laughing smile that suddenly turned cold and grim and shouted “Guilty as
charged!”
***
In the morning, Evelyn rose, dressed, and slipped down to
the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She could hear Alex’s heavy breathing in the
front room but did not look in upon him. Whatever he felt or didn’t feel, her
own emotions were too close to the surface to react sensibly to the picture of
her husband deep in sleep.
If she were lucky, he would sleep right through breakfast,
and she could go on to the wharf without further argument. She ought to be
looking for that packet with the names in it, but she was hesitant about
searching Alex’s personal belongings. She still had some pride and honor left.
Despite her desire to escape, she fed the fire and started
coffee brewing. She cut strips from what was left of the salted bacon in the
cold pantry and set them over the fire to cook. They had let supplies run low
in anticipation of leaving, but there were still eggs, and her mother had made
fresh bread just yesterday. She would set a proper meal and not be accused of
neglecting her wifely duties, even if her dear husband was too exhausted to
eat.
As the coffee boiled, she heard footsteps in the hall.
Nervously she removed the pot from its rack, burning her fingers when the
holder slipped. Cursing, she set the pot down and sucked on her singed fingers,
listening to the movement in the other room. She had brought fresh water and
towels to her room but not his. She bit her lip at the image of Alex muddling about
in her personal belongings.
With no one in the house but themselves to act as buffer or
diversion, Evelyn was aware of Alex’s every movement. She tried singing to
herself to disguise the sounds of Alex’s ablutions, but she had no heart for it.
She clattered the dishes onto the kitchen table and rattled the pots and pans
over the fire as she fried eggs and toasted bread. If she could just pretend she
was alone and that this was the first real day of their marriage, she would be
fine.
Still, she heard him when he approached the kitchen door,
knew when he stood there watching her. She tried not to look, but she could not
stay bent over the fire forever. Removing the frying pan, she turned to look up
into his newly shaven face.
He had changed into clean shirt and breeches and used water
to slick his unruly hair into some semblance of order. The ribbon at his nape
was slightly askew, as if he had hurried, but the expression in his dark, deep-set
eyes was cautious.
“I didn’t wish to be accused of starving you,” Evelyn said
as she lifted the eggs from the pan to the plate.
“I couldn’t sleep. I spent most of the night thinking.” Alex
took the heavy coffeepot from her and filled their cups, then pulled a chair
out for her.
Trying to hide her nervousness, Evelyn arranged her skirts
and sat down, holding her breath until he removed his hand from the back of her
chair. The kitchen table was small, and Alex did not take his place at the
other end but sat next to her. His long legs brushed her skirts as he sat down.
She made no reply to his comment. She could not.
Alex sipped at the strong coffee while Evelyn poured cream
and sugar into hers. The dark shadows beneath her eyes spoke of nights as
sleepless as his. He had put those circles there, and he didn’t know how to
remove them. He had spent a companionless childhood, and his tutor had taught
him little about developing personal relationships. He fitted well into large
parties, where the conversation was meaningless and actions counted more than
words. He had spent a lifetime dealing with servants and employees and had no
difficulty giving orders. But he felt helpless dealing with an intimate
situation with an equal.
“What you said last night was partially true,” he blurted
out. “I didn’t mean to force you into marriage, but that’s the way it looks,
doesn’t it?”
The coffee in her cup sloshed with her surprise. He had
certainly caught her attention, if nothing else. Alex took advantage of this
fair beginning. “I don’t know who sent us to that inn and stole our horses, but
I cannot hold you responsible for the deed any longer. I thought I was doing
what you wanted, but I suppose it was what I wanted too. I know if the
opportunity occurred again, I would do the same.”
“I don’t think I care to comment on that,” she replied
carefully, if a little unsteadily.
Caught in his own train of thoughts and determined to carry
them to the end at whatever cost, Alex let this slip by without wondering at
it. “If there were any way I could pay your fine, I would, but the court has
refused my notes. Much of our trading is done in merchandise and bills of sale.
We seldom carry that amount of cash on our ships. My cousin has already agreed
to look into the matter once we reach England. He can have your case set aside,
but that will take months. Right now, I simply don’t have any choices left. You
must go with me until the case is settled.”