A Taste of Paradise (21 page)

Sophia swatted at the flying insects that swarmed around her bonnet, grateful for the veil that kept them off her face. She considered Jamaica a paradise, but the island did have its drawbacks. Nothing in life was perfect, not even in Paradise.

Kingston was teeming with people. Vehicles clogged King Street, making travel slow and difficult. Finally Chris pulled up before the Church of St. Thomas and set the brake. He leaped lightly to the ground and handed Sophia down. They approached the rectory together. A servant answered the door and invited them to wait in the parlor. The reverend arrived a short time later.

“Captain Radcliff”—Townsend, a tall, thin man in his mid thirties, greeted them affably—“and Miss Carlisle, welcome to Jamaica. Lady Chester has told me all about you. You are the happy couple I am to wed Saturday next. Yours will be the first marriage in St. Thomas since my arrival three years ago. Most of the planters arrive in Jamaica with wives and family in tow. And the bachelors usually return to England to marry.”

Chris and Sophia made small talk and took tea with the reverend. After an hour, they took their leave.

“I am looking forward to performing your nuptials,” Townsend remarked as they said their good-byes. “It's refreshing to see a young couple so in love.”

Sophia shot a glance at Chris. He appeared discomfited. As for herself, she recalled Kateena's words earlier and wondered what the servants saw that made them think Chris loved her. Perhaps they judged Chris's feelings by what they saw in her. Were her eyes misty with love when she looked at Chris? Did she hang on his every word, follow him with her eyes?

“Where are we going now?” Sophia asked as Chris guided the wagon into traffic.

“To the docks to see if the
Intrepid
has arrived. Afterward, we'll visit the marketplace. Then I thought we would have lunch at the King's Arms, if that meets with your approval.”

Sophia's eyes glowed. She hadn't spent this much time with Chris since . . . She couldn't recall when. “I'd like that.”

The
Intrepid
hadn't arrived. “I was hoping to find her in port,” Chris said, clearly disappointed. “I wanted to take you to the church in style.”

Touched, Sophia laid her hand on his arm. “It doesn't matter, Chris.” He didn't shake off her hand, which Sophia considered a good sign.

The visit to the marketplace was pleasant, the combination of sounds, sights and smells uniquely Jamaican. After Chris made his purchases, they headed to the King's Arms for lunch. Mr. Ludlow greeted them enthusiastically and told them he had received an invitation to their wedding and would attend. Sophia had insisted that Lady Chester invite the innkeeper.

Sophia thought lunch went well. They didn't discuss anything controversial, which made the outing all the more enjoyable. After lunch, they left the King's Arms for their return to Sunset Hill.

“Thank you for this day,” Sophia began. “I wish every day could be like this.”

“We will have good days and bad days, Sophia. It's inevitable, given our past.”

His answer didn't satisfy Sophia. She sighed and broached the subject they both had avoided all day. “I know you're a reluctant bridegroom, and I'm truly sorry it turned out this way. There is still time to cry off.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Sophia,” Chris replied curtly. “We both know ours isn't a love match, but we are adult enough to muddle through this marriage.”

Curbing her sudden jolt of anger, Sophia said, “Muddle through? I don't want to muddle through. I want a real husband, Chris. If you can't be what I want, then cry off now.”

Chris reined the horse to a stop on a deserted stretch of road and glared at her. Sophia glared back. “I thought we'd worked through this,” he bit out. “You needed protection and I offered it. Once we are wed, you will never have to worry about Rigby or Caldwell again.”

The words that came out of Chris's mouth hurt. Why didn't he understand that their marriage meant so much more to her? All her life she'd looked forward to marriage as the culmination of all her dreams, a union that would provide a wealth of love and need. A need Chris didn't intend to fulfill.

“I mean it, Chris. Don't go through with this marriage if you intend to ignore me or find another woman to give you what you need.”

“Dammit, Sophia, you ought to know by now that I want you in my bed. If you want sex, I will give it to you unstintingly. If you need protection, I will be there for you. What more do you want?”

Love
. “I don't want you to feel trapped. Marriage is more than the need for protection or sex on demand. How can you possibly want me when you have shown so little interest in me these past weeks?”

“You think I don't want you? How can you believe that when I'm in your bed most nights?” Chris said angrily. “Perhaps I've done too good a job of controlling my lust.”

As if to prove his words, he pulled her against him.

“Chris, I—”

He swept away her words with his lips and tongue, his kiss demanding and thoroughly intoxicating. He tangled his fingers in her hair, moving her head so that their lips meshed fully. Shivers of pleasure danced along her scalp and down her spine.

The heat of her body set his on fire. She moved against him, and if they hadn't been in the middle of a public road, he would have dragged her beneath him and thrust himself into her sweet heat.

He broke the kiss with a ragged groan. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

Sophia's expression nearly unmanned him. Did she care for him that much? Should he trust what he saw in her eyes? He took several deep breaths, willing his erection to subside.

“Is there ever going to be a time and place?” Sophia challenged. “You say you want me, but all I see is a man who constantly fights his attraction to me.”

He picked up the reins, and the wagon jerked forward. “A man needs to protect himself, Sophia.”

“From what?”

Chris muttered under his breath something she didn't understand.

“Prove you want me, Chris,” she challenged. “Make love to me when we reach Sunset Hill.”

Chris hardened instantly, his hands tightening on the reins. “You know I can't. The plantation is shorthanded right now, and this is a hectic time of year. Can't you wait until tonight?”

Chris saw the light die in Sophia's eyes and immediately regretted his words. He knew that hurricanes arrived without warning this time of year, and that volcanoes were always a threat. So much could happen before the cane was harvested. Chris had to work night and day until the wedding to bring in the crop.

Sophia grew quiet, too quiet. “I'm sorry, Sophia. I don't mean to sound harsh, but the reality is I'm a planter trying to make a success of things without slaves. I don't want to cry off. If I did, I would have done so before now.”

Sophia lifted her face to his. Unshed tears wet her lashes. He looked away. Her next words made him cringe inside.

“I know why you won't cry off. It's so obvious. After we wed, you intend to withhold your affection in order to punish me for Desmond's death.”

“Do you truly think I would do that?”

“I . . . don't know.”

Neither did Chris. Did he want to punish Sophia for Desmond's death? He might have in the beginning, but things had changed. Now he was fighting tooth and nail to keep from falling under Sophia's spell. Chris wished he could forget that he had killed his best friend, but the guilt would always remain whether or not he married Sophia.

Rain clouds threatened Sophia's wedding day. Though she knew it wouldn't make Chris love her, she wanted to look her very best. After Kateena had dressed her, she gazed into her bedroom mirror. The peach lace gown had short sleeves and frothy layers that revealed the darker peach underskirt. A matching ribbon caught the gown high under her breasts, while the skirt skimmed the gentle swell of her hips. The mirror told her the color complemented her creamy complexion. Her tan had faded, leaving her skin with just a hint of gold.

“You look lovely,” Kateena sighed as she piled Sophia's hair atop her head in a froth of curls. “The loveliest bride I've ever seen.”

“Thank you, Kateena. What time are the Chesters supposed to arrive?” Since they had a carriage and Chris did not, the Chesters had offered to take her to Kingston in theirs.

“You have plenty of time.”

They heard a commotion in the foyer. Sophia sent Kateena to find out what was happening.

“The captain's ship arrived in port,” Kateena explained when she returned. “There is a brand new carriage sitting in front of the house.”

Sophia was genuinely pleased. “I'm glad. Chris wanted the
Intrepid
's crew to attend the wedding, and now they can.”

A few minutes later, Chris brought her the news himself. Kateena answered his knock but wouldn't let him inside to speak to Sophia.

“You can't see your bride, Captain. It is bad luck.”

“Sophia, can you hear me?” Chris called.

“I hear you, Chris. Kateena told me your ship has arrived.”

“Blaine delivered my new carriage. I'm driving it to the church. Lord and Lady Chester will arrive soon for you. I'll meet you at the altar.”

“Yes, at the altar,” Sophia replied. She heard his steps retreating and wanted to run after him. Wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted him to reassure her, tell her their marriage wouldn't be the farce she expected.

Of course, she didn't.

Sophia arrived at the church with the Chesters. Judging from the number of carriages and horses parked around the church, Sophia knew that the Chesters' friends had arrived in force.

“Oh, what a wonderful turnout,” Agatha gushed. “Are you ready, my dear? Don't forget your bouquet.”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Sophia replied, clutching her bouquet of roses and orchids as if they were a lifeline.

“Then take my dear husband's arm and let us commence.”

Lady Chester was the first to enter the church. She lingered in the vestibule until the reverend motioned the wedding party forward. Sophia watched her start down the aisle, and then felt a tug on her arm as Lord Chester stepped out smartly. She glanced toward the altar and faltered when she saw Chris.

Formally dressed in black and white, his powerful body looked taut and fit beneath his clothing. His handsome face showed little of his thoughts. Her own thoughts were emotionally charged. Soon Chris would be hers, all hers. Though his proposal had stunned her, he hadn't begged off, and soon they would be husband and wife. Was this what Chris really wanted?

Sophia scarcely recognized anyone in the crowded church except for the members of Chris's crew. She smiled at them in passing and took a measure of comfort in their presence. Then she was standing next to Chris as Lord Chester melted away. She sensed Chris's tension, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw a spark of something she couldn't read, something that gave her a glimmer of hope.

Reverend Townsend began the ceremony. Sophia tried to listen, but her mind kept wandering. She answered when it was expected of her, and then she heard the reverend ask, “If anyone knows why this couple shouldn't be wed, speak now or forever keep your peace.”

“Stop the wedding!”

The entire congregation turned toward the door. Two men stood backlit in the opening.

“Who are you, sir?” Reverend Townsend asked.

“I am Sophia Carlisle's guardian; she doesn't have my permission to wed.”

Rayford!
Sophia couldn't believe her eyes. What was he doing here? She felt Chris's arm encircle her and took comfort in it. Then she recognized Sir Oscar Rigby standing behind Ray, and she sagged against Chris.

Chris's arm tightened as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Chin up, Sophia. They can't hurt you.”

Sophia desperately wanted to believe him.

“Please continue the service, Reverend Townsend,” Chris commanded.

Caldwell started down the aisle. “I am Viscount Caldwell, Sophia Carlisle's guardian, and I demand to be heard.”

The murmur of the congregation rose in volume, earning a stern look from the reverend.

Sophia shrugged out of Chris's protective embrace to confront her stepbrother. “You are not my guardian, Ray. I am past the age of guardianship. You cannot dictate my life.”

From behind him, Rigby hissed into Ray's ear, “Stop the wedding now, Caldwell. The woman belongs to me. Pay your debt or go to prison.”

Chris pushed Sophia behind him. “You heard my fiancée, Caldwell. She is old enough to do as she pleases. And it pleases both of us to wed.”

“Sophia is a wanted woman in England,” Caldwell said in a voice only Chris could hear. “She attacked Sir Oscar for no reason and left him for dead.”

Chris smiled at Sophia, his opinion of her rising. “How very clever of her. Fortunately, this is not England, is it?”

“I can press charges here,” Rigby maintained. “This is English territory, after all.”

“Try it and you're a dead man,” Chris growled. “Now step back, both of you, and let the good reverend continue the ceremony.” He turned his back on Caldwell and Rigby.

Though Sophia thought it a bad idea to turn her back on either man, she trusted Chris as she faced the reverend.

“Is Viscount Caldwell your guardian?” Reverend Townsend asked.

“No, I am no longer under his guardianship,” Sophia asserted. “I am four and twenty years old. Please continue, Reverend.”

“Very well, then. By the law vested in me by the Church of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He smiled at Chris. “You may kiss your bride.”

Sophia's breath faltered as Chris turned her toward him, raised her chin with his thumb and forefinger and kissed her full on the mouth. If his kiss was meant as a display of possession, Chris succeeded admirably. She heard someone curse—probably Rayford—and more than a few titters from the congregation. And still Chris continued to kiss her. When he finally released her mouth, her knees wobbled like jelly and she had to hang on to Chris to keep from falling.