Captain Of Her Heart (6 page)

“I hate to disturb you, but you must come out, now.”  Molly retrieved a towel.  “That is, if you still hope to prepare Cap’n’s dinner, under my direction.”

“Oh, I do so wish to cook for Jason.”  Alex stood and stepped from the bath.  “And I shall impart sage advice on how to attract a man.”

“Do tell, dear Alex.”  The charwoman all but bounced.

After donning the well-worn printed muslin dress Molly had brought, Alex sat at the end of the bed and braided her hair in the maid’s usual fashion.  Later, she assumed an altogether foreign position before the stove and stirred delicious smelling gravy, which she had produced with valuable guidance.

“All right.”  Alex bent to check the bread in the oven.  “So how shall you approach your Mr. Penniman, when next you meet?”

“I should incline my head, ever so gently, dip my chin, and gaze at Tom through my lashes.”  Molly demonstrated her newfound prowess.  “How was that?”

“Perfect.”  Alex wiped her hands on her apron.  “Such tactics have served me well, as I have often rendered Jas—I mean, gentlemen incapable of forming a coherent sentence.”

Once Molly had departed for the day, with a gifted gown from Alex’s belongings, Alex collected dishes and utensils from the cupboard and set the table.  “Jason had better sing my praise for the effort I have expended today.”

And no sooner had she uttered the statement than the man in question strode through the door.

“Good evening, Alex.”  Jason shrugged from his greatcoat and hung it on a wall peg.  “How was your day?”

“Very enlightening.”  Not to mention painful, but her travails were worth their weight in gold in anticipation of his commendation regarding her hard work.

“Upon my word.”  He surveyed the surroundings.  “Everything looks shipshape.  Molly outdid herself.”

Alex could have strangled him.

CHAPTER THREE

How was it possible for a woman to possess provocative toes?  As Jason entered the little cottage he shared with Alex, he found her standing, bare-footed, before the stove.

Wearing one of Molly’s old dresses, a modest frock with a frayed lace collar, and with brown locks woven in a single braid and draped over her shoulder, Alex could have passed for a servant to the undiscriminating eye.  Until she cast a charming glance and favored him with a coy smile, which underscored her patrician features and never failed to set his heart racing.

“Good evening, Captain of my heart.”  How he loved her welcome, delivered in the sultry tone that ignited a raging inferno in his loins.  “Are you hungry?”

Oh, yes
.

But not for food.

The well-honed control he had spent Sunday afternoon fortifying with the best ale at the Blood and Swash tavern fled him in a scarce second.  Gazing heavenward, he doffed his greatcoat and prayed she would not notice his animated Jolly Roger, as it was dangerously jolly and only too ready to lay siege to her virgin field.

Six days had passed since the inimitable Lady Seymour had arrived on his stoop, and he had yet to bed her.  Either his halo shimmered, or he had lost his mind, as both were possible, given the circumstances.

Temptation personified, he considered Alex a prime piece, bedecked in the latest fashions money could buy.  With her hair coiffed atop her head or in a fountain of carefree curls, and an expensive gown accentuating her generous curves, the society maiden’s attire served as a potent reminder of her status and kept the beast at bay.

But the new Alex, the provincial ragamuffin, tested the limits of his sanity and his breeches, as he found her unutterably irresistible.  Had she paraded about the ton’s ballrooms in such garb, she would incite a riot.  The thick braid evoked images of his Alex, sans clothing, engaged in a tantalizing impersonation of Lady Godiva, and he vowed, right then and there, to one day enjoy that fantasy, in truth.

“You should wash for dinner.”

Jason blinked.  “I beg your pardon.”

“Our meal is ready.”  The object of his affection and the source of his discomfit carried two plates to the table.  “Do you not intend to wash before we dine?”

At that moment, there was only one thing he desired, and it had nothing to do with the meal.  Bolstering his defenses, Jason walked to his lady, rested a hand at the small of her back, and stared into her blue eyes.  When Alex trailed her tongue across her rosy lips, he stopped short of his destination, as it was a ploy for which he had fallen on occasions his pride had not allowed him to count.

“Dinner smells delicious.”  Given her duplicity, he questioned everything about her, so he dropped his hand to his side and cleared his throat.  “Did you cook this, all by yourself?”

“Indeed.”  How sincere she seemed, as she gushed beneath his meager praise.  “After you departed this morning, I trapped and skinned the rabbits, just as Molly taught me.  And I followed her recipe for hare stew, to the letter.”

“Ah, my favorite.”  No doubt the astute Lady Seymour had seized upon that information and hoped to capitalize on his favor.  Jason poured water into the corner basin and scrubbed his hands and face.  “By the by, have you misplaced your slippers, or have you started a new trend?”

“Oh, that?”  She shrugged.  “Molly prefers to complete her chores without shoes, and I must profess equal fondness for the habit.”

“You are comfortable?”  He pulled out her chair and then settled himself in the opposite seat.  “Are you not cold?”

“Not in the least.”  She draped her napkin across her lap and then paused.  “Tarrying over a hot stove keeps me plenty warm.”

Then Alex leaned forward and compressed her lips, and he realized she waited for him to sample her fare.  So with heightened expectancy, Jason picked up his fork and speared a generous bite.  To relish the experience, he held the sample in his mouth—and almost gagged.  The temperature singed the tip of his tongue but not so much to temper the stomach-churning taste.

In a flash, he bent and spat the repulsive morsel to the plate.  To mitigate the foul flavor, he grasped a pint of ale and gulped half the contents.

“What is wrong?”  With shock investing her expression, Alex gasped.  “Do you not like it?”

“Bloody hell.”  Shuddering, Jason set down his fork and took another swill of ale to erase the persistent hint of the offensive concoction.  “Alex, just how much sugar did the recipe suggest you put in this stew?”

“Sugar?”  His society miss wrinkled her nose and snickered.  “Silly man, you do not put—
oh
.  Please, do not tell me I mistook the sugar for salt.”

“Do not fret, love.”  He snorted and then burst into laughter.  “I am sure it could happen to anyone, as they are both white.”

“Perhaps I can set it right?  It may only require the addition of salt to counteract the sweetness.”  Her mouth fell agape, when he snatched her plate from the table and stood.  “Wait—what are you doing?”

“This fare is fit for neither man nor beast.”  Jason dumped their portions into the pot, which he then carried outside.  With a hearty heave-ho, he tossed the food to the ground.  “Woe the poor creature that stumbles upon your odious feast.”

“You are horrible to make fun of me.”  Alex folded her arms and loitered in the doorway.

“No, your stew is horrible, and I am honor-bound to save us from it.”  He halted at the edge of the stoop, as their respective positions brought them almost eye-to-eye.  In a single swift move, he twined her braid in his hand and gently tugged.  “But I am proud of you, love.”

“Proud of what?  Regardless of my hard work, I produced an inedible meal unworthy of praise.”  She mustered a precious pout and lowered her chin in defeat, and he claimed a whisper of a kiss.  “And I did so wish to please you.”

“Darling Alex.”  Jason pulled her closer and rubbed his nose to hers.  “What matters is that you tried.”

And then in defiance of his instincts, he freed her braid, wrapped an arm about her waist, claimed her mouth in a sumptuous assault, carried her into the house, and kicked the door shut behind him, without ever breaking contact.  After dropping the empty pot to the table, Jason unleashed his hands, resting a palm to her delectable derriere and the other at the nape of her neck.  When he rocked his hips into hers, Alex favored him with a sultry moan, as their tongues dueled.

The erotic heat of his society maiden, coupled with her succulent lips, far more tempting than the sweetest confection, well nigh drove him insane.  And when she wound her arms about his shoulders, and speared her fingers into his hair, he shifted his attention to her modest but accommodating dress.

In seconds, he perched in a chair, situated his lady in his lap, untied the ribbon at her bodice and chemise, and then bared one breast. At that point, he halted, only to discover Alex watched him.  Why was he not surprised?  So he pressed on her pliant flesh caresses intended to incite—to arouse.  And he recalled the first time he had touched her thus, albeit through a heavy gown.

In the drawing room at Seymour House, in London, just prior to enlisting his aid in Cara’s plan to catch Lance, Alex had caught his wrist and set his palm to her bosom.  To his chagrin, he had assumed her silent plea indicative of a healthy desire for him.  Now he wondered if her bold behavior had been nothing more than means to an end.

Holding her gaze, Jason licked her pert nipple, and his lady gave vent to a plaintive cry.  Her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, yet she belied no hint of shyness, trepidation, or fear.  So he repeated the decadent maneuver, but he lingered and suckled, as she bucked and wiggled, and his thighs erupted in flames.

To her credit, Alex never averted her stare, even as he teased her soft skin with gentle nips of his teeth, and in that moment he realized she wanted him.  That knowledge worked on him in ways he could not have foreseen, and he turned it to his advantage.  “Why did you not tell me the truth about Lance and Cara?”

“What?”  She inhaled a shivery breath, as he sucked hard on her nipple.  “
Jason
.”

“I want to know, Alex.”  Wielding his tongue as a weapon, he lured her into his trap.  “I will have the whole of it.”

“Because Cara begged me not to betray her confidence.”  She wrenched her head from side to side and then bit the fleshy part of her hand.

“And you value her affinity more than mine?”  Again and again, he plied her with a licentious massage.

“No.”  With something between a sob and a sigh, she arched her back.  “Jason—
please
.”

“Why did you lie?”  With a flick of his wrist, he hiked her skirt and then walked his fingers to the honey harbor at the center of her core.  When he found her warm and wet, he groaned and shifted his weight.  “Out with it.”

“I promised Cara, and I could not break my word.”  And then she emitted an achingly sweet cry.  “I have known her since birth and you not half so long.”

“So you acted out of loyalty?”  Summoning the expertise of a lifetime, Jason played a masterful accompaniment with his hand and mouth.  “And what of us?  Am I nothing to you?”

“You are the captain of my heart.”  She twisted and turned to a heady mix of half-screams, moans, and sighs.  “Had we an arrangement, I should have allied myself with you.  But we have no understanding, so Cara claims my allegiance.”

Even in the throes of passion, Lady Seymour had made a convincing argument, and he could not dispute her logic, given her strong familial ties.  The burden he had carried since discovering her betrayal seemed to vanish, and his thoughts seized on an altogether nobler goal.  “Do you remember that afternoon we spent in the drawing room of your home?”

“Yes,” she responded on a shivery exhale.

“Why did you encourage me?”  He played an arresting drumbeat between her thighs, urging her ever higher, as he clenched his jaw and fought the beast in his breeches.  “Were you curious?”

“Lance did it to Cara.”  Alex whimpered and yanked his hair.  “I wanted to know you, in that way.”

“Why?”  Now her confession was a gem not to be missed.  “Am I so special?”

“Because you make me feel—
oh
, I know not how to describe it.”  Her breath hitched, when he grazed his chin to her nipple.  “My belly flutters, as if I have swallowed a swarm of butterflies, and I am warm inside, from head to toe, even when there is no fire in the hearth.  And I ache, but it is not painful.  It is a hunger, one I can neither explain nor comprehend, but I want more.”

“And has anyone else affected you, thus?”  As he uttered the query, Jason braced for her reply.

“Only you, Captain of my heart.  That is why I had to find you.”  She rattled the roof with an ear-splitting shriek, and he suspected she neared completion.  “I wanted to make amends, as you are everything to me.”

“Then consider the matter closed, dearest Alex.”  With that, he manipulated the succulent flesh between her legs, faster and faster, increasing the intensity, as he covered her mouth with his.  Telltale rigidity heralded her release, even as she bit his lip, and her spectacular contractions tempted him beyond reason.  Without warning, the fully loaded cannon in his crotch fired a violent fusillade, and his gut clenched repeatedly from the force of his climax.

For a long while, Jason simply held Alex, and she hugged him, in turn.  Apologies and explanations swirled in his brain, when it dawned on him that he had just accosted a highborn woman of character, but as he attempted to retreat, she squeezed him.

“No.”  She nuzzled him  “Please, do not leave me, as I would savor our glorious intimacy.”

“Enjoyed yourself, did you?”  He chuckled.

“Yes.”  With a flirty giggle, she placed a chaste but inexpressibly tender kiss on his cheek.  “Reality is much better than my dreams or the hints and innuendos from the Brethren wives.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Ah, it was good to have his Alex back.  “You dream of me?”

“Oh, yes.”  She nodded.  “Every night, without fail, you visit my bed.”

“Really?”  And there was the characteristic aggression he relished.  “What do we do in your dreams?”

“We kiss.”  Resting her head to his chest, she grabbed his wrist and resettled his palm to her bare breast.  “And you touch me, like now.  Sometimes, you run away, but I chase you.”