Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2

by Barbara Devlin

  “You believe my wife is with child?” Visibly pale, Lance swayed, toppled over the chair, and fell to the floor. “But she said nothing to me.”

  “Whoa, brother.” Trevor bent and hauled Lance to his feet. “And that is their way.”

  “Easy.” Dirk perched at Lance’s right. “Take it slow, as there is no rush.”

  “Now there is nothing to worry about, as Dr. Handley is a deuced fine physician. He delivered my son with nary a mishap.” Everett straightened Lance’s cravat, dusted the lapels of his coat, and then smacked him gently on the cheek. “Snap to it, man. Here is what you must do, on your way home. First, stop by Howell’s, purchase the largest tin of chamomile tea they have in stock, and place a recurring order for the next nine months. Then visit the hothouse and procure a bouquet of Cara’s favorite flowers.”

  “I am to be a father.” It was a statement, not a question. Again, Lance teetered, and the Brethren husbands reached for him. With a tear-filled gaze, he grinned. “Tea and flowers. I can do that.”

  Then Lance turned on a heel and exited the room. On his second step, he broke into a full sprint.

  “Poor bastard.” Dirk guffawed. “Has no idea what lies in store for him.”

  As the atmosphere calmed, the nautionnier knights relaxed, and Jason pondered his predicament.

  “By the by, I meant to ask you something. Mind you, I would never pry into your personal affairs, but curiosity gnaws at my gut.” Fidgeting, Trevor glanced at Everett. “Is it true that you removed the beds from Sabrina’s private apartments?”

  Everett growled and thrust his chin. “I did.”

  “But—why?” Dirk blinked.

  “Need I remind you that my lovely but misguided bride left me, when she labored under the harebrained notion that I loved her not?” Everett shuddered. “Scared ten years off my life, and I still have not recovered. So I ensured I would never again come home to an empty four-poster. And I had the walls separating our chambers torn down. Now my Brie and I share a single, large room, whether we reside in the city or the country, and I highly recommend it.”

  “What happens when you quarrel?” Dirk queried. “Not that I am familiar with such difficulties.”

  “On the rare occasion we argue, my countess takes it out on me, between the sheets.” Everett waggled his brows. “Best idea I ever had, and I sometimes seek excuses to rile her.”

  “You are a bloody genius.” Trevor narrowed his stare. “What company did you use to execute the renovations?”

  “Ooh, I love it when you say that.” Everett smirked. “And Benson and Sons completed the remodel at our Park Lane home and Beaumaris.”

  “And Sabrina voiced no complaints?” Dirk leaned forward and inclined his head. “She was amenable to the refurbishment?”

  “I gave her no opportunity to protest.” Everett shrugged. “I did what any sane husband would do and simply waited until we ventured to London, to have the work done in the country. Then, when we journeyed to Beaumaris, the crew demolished our apartments in the city. Even had she disagreed with my decision, it was too late when she discovered the alterations. But my most unlikely lady expressed nothing but delight and showed her appreciation in the coin I favor.”

  “I wonder how Rebecca would react to such developments.” Dirk peered at the ceiling. “It would be worth the risk.”

  “Gentlemen, given I share a single apartment with my bride, as I hold no titles, can we refocus the discussion, as I am in a terrible fix.” Jason toyed with the ring in his waistcoat pocket. “How may I steer my marriage into calm seas?”

  “To begin with, I must correct your assertion.” Dirk pointed for emphasis. “For good or ill, you are Sir Collingwood. Whether or not you wish it, you are a member of society, further distinguished by your wedding to the daughter of a duke. As such, you must abide the precepts by which we have lived, since birth.”

  “Bloody hell.” Jason speared his hair. “Whatever am I to do now, as I am entirely out of my element?”

  “The answer is altogether pedestrian.” Trevor lit a cigar and took a long draw. “In the privacy of your residence or your traveling coach, with the shades down, of course, you may indulge your every desire with your bride. In public, polite behavior runs contrary to male instincts.”

  “But there are ways to subvert society.” Everett winked. “My Brie is partial to libraries, and I have made love to her in some of London’s most palatial mansions.”

  “Oh, I say.” Trevor scoffed. “Tell me you have not waylaid her in our—”

  “I have.” Everett clucked his tongue. “Twice.”

  “That is nothing.” Dirk crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Becca prefers studies and desktops, in particular.”

  “No.” Everett gulped. “Not my desk.”

  To wit Dirk cast a lazy grin and held up three fingers.

  “I must remember to replace my blotter.” Everett scowled.

  “Enough, as you have made your point.” Jason had reached the end of his tether. “You enjoy blissful unions, so how do you propose to help me achieve the same happy results?”

  “Have you told her you love her?” Everett asked, in a soft tone.

  “Must you always cast that line?” Trevor sneered. “Mark my words, one of these days you will get us killed.”

  “Will you cease your prattle?” Everett groused. “You know as well as I that Alex needs his declaration.”

  “So have you or have you not pledged your troth?” Dirk folded his arms. “Tell us the truth, Collingwood. Are you in love with Alex?”

  “I am unsure.” Jason adjusted the lace trim of his sleeve and rested his hands in his lap. Then he propped his elbows on his knees. “Just how does one know when one is thus afflicted?”

  Dirk glanced at Trevor, who peered at Everett, and Jason feared he might vomit.

  “Well that is our first clue.” Everett chuckled.

  “I do not follow.” Jason’s ears rang with panic.

  “That you equate affairs of the heart with distress, trouble, or the cause of suffering is noteworthy.” Dirk reclined in his chair and met Jason’s gaze. “Describe something for me. When you reflect on your situation with Alex, how do you feel?”

  “As though someone ran a ramrod up my arse. As if I have swallowed lead shot.” He bit back the bile rising in his throat. “I would equate it with Prometheus chained to the rock and the eagle’s daily liver feast.”

  In unison, Dirk, Everett, and Trevor said, “You are in love.”

  “Hell and the Reaper.” Yet the revelation was no real surprise, as Jason had suspected his attraction to Alex had long since passed a predilection of the fleshly sort. “Brothers, I am in love with my wife.”

  “Well I am impressed, as the first time I accepted that remarkable fact, in regard to Caroline, I almost jumped overboard.” Trevor raised his glass in toast. “To Jason and Alex.”

  “Hear, hear,” Dirk and Everett replied, in concert.

  “Can we save the celebration, as I remain at odds with my bride?” Despite an urge to the contrary, Jason knew he had to confide in his co-conspirators, if he had any hope of winning Alex back. To his unutterable embarrassment, he detailed the events, as they had occurred, in Plymouth, excepting the physical relations. But the last confrontation again rendered him dizzy. “Gentlemen, I may have made a fatal mistake. In haste, and to my inexpressible shame, I accused Alex of attempting to trap me into marriage.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Everett choked on his brandy. “Does Damian know that?”

  “I would wager not, as Collingwood lives.” Dirk winced. “Yet I am speechless.”

  “But that is not the worst part.” Jason sighed.

  “There is more?” Trevor’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

  “Aye.” Jason braced for the shock. “When I inquired after Alex’s reasons for giving herself to me, without a promise of matrimony, she claimed she did so because she loved me. And then I rejected her.”

&n
bsp; Trevor’s mouth fell agape.

  Everett smacked his forehead.

  Dirk closed his eyes, lowered his chin, and groaned.

  “Well I am at a loss, and I need another drink.” Everett flagged a waiter. “Upon my word, but you swept the pool, when it comes to self-made disasters.”

  “What if I have squandered my chance?” How Jason wished he could travel back in time and undo the damage. “What if I have lost her?”

  “Not by a long chalk.” Dirk propped his chin in his hand. “Because when it comes to their heart, women are not so fickle.”

  “But Alex fears me.” Deep-seated dispiritedness nestled in his breast, and Jason shook his head. “She has said as much, on more than one occasion.”

  “It is because she loves you,” Everett expounded.

  “That makes no sense,” Jason replied.

  “Yes, it does.” Perched on the edge of his seat, Trevor sat upright. “As you hold your wife’s heart, you posses the power to destroy her. In light of your rejection, that is what frightens her.”

  “So how am I to win her?” Jason remained clueless.

  “Brother, you must embark on the courtship to end all courtships.” Everett quivered. “And I do not envy you.”

  “And you must make your declaration.” Dirk smacked a fist to a palm. “As she needs that.”

  “Is there not another way?” No man relished such maudlin sentiments. “What if she rejects me?”

  “Perhaps you should rehearse your pronouncement,” Trevor suggested. “As my wife once promised me, quite accurately, I might add, it gets easier the more you utter the singular statement.”

  “I will practice, as I can do it.” Jason nodded once and inhaled. “Alex, I love you.”

  “Well, that was not too bad.” With a strange expression, Trevor averted his stare. “For an amateur.”

  “Who do you think you are fooling?” Everett rolled his eyes. “That was terrible.”

  “Indeed.” Dirk blanched. “Can you manage it without the green face?”

  “I do not think so.” Jason cradled his head in his hands. “Bloody hell.”

  “There, there, brother.” Dirk slapped Jason on the back. “You must not lose faith. All you need is a little polish and refinement.”

  “Plus a boatload of blind luck.” Everett shot Trevor a side-glance, and they collapsed in a fit of convulsive hilarity.

  And so it was, with that vote of confidence, Jason returned to his townhouse, just as the sun had set. Again standing in the foyer, he handed his coat, hat, and gloves to Haynes and lamented another night without Alex, relaxed in slumber, at his side.

  Then Jason started and reversed course. “Send for the coach, and have my trunks loaded, posthaste. I depart for the country in half an hour.”

  CAPTAIN OF HER HEART

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The coach lurched to a halt, and Jason roused from a light sleep to discover he had arrived at Stratfield Manor. Given the breakneck pace with which the coachman had driven the team, they had cut an hour off the usual journey and landed at the doorstep at the crack of dawn.

  Pulling on his coat, Arnie appeared in the entry. “Captain Collingwood, welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Phipps.” Jason stretched his back and yawned. “Has my wife risen?”

  “No, sir.” The butler brushed his bangs from his face. “Her ladyship sleeps late into the morning, as she is in her last month of pregnancy and requires additional rest.”

  “Is she unwell?” He clenched his gut at the prospect. “Are there complications?”

  “No, sir.” Arnie smiled, as he directed the footmen. “Dr. Studly advises her ladyship’s condition is quite normal, for the final weeks of her term. And as the renovations to the house are complete, she enjoys more idle time.”

  “Then I shall join her, in our chamber, after I deposit these ledgers in the study, as it was a long ride.” Jason skipped up the stairs.

  “Captain—wait.” Phipps followed in Jason’s wake. “Sir, please, I can convey your effects. In light of your trip, you must be exhausted.”

  “I am quite hale and hearty, old friend.” Jason steered down the hall to the left and then strolled into his domain. “And I need to—”

  For a second, confusion fogged his brain, and Jason came to an abrupt halt. In a flash, he retraced his steps, glanced from side to side, checked his bearing, and re-entered his study.

  “It was her ladyship’s doing.” Arnie cleared his throat. “She personally directed the renovation, selected every scrap of furniture, and spared no expense.”

  “Thank you, Phipps.” Jason swallowed hard, as he digested the alterations to his sanctuary, which touched him more than he was willing to admit, to himself or anyone else. “That will be all.”

  The wall coverings of navy blue, trimmed in mahogany, his favorite color combination, continued the theme from the rest of the grand house. Draperies of lush velvet framed the window and highlighted a massive, hand-tooled desk, which held pride of place and bespoke categorical power and prestige. Running his finger in the grooves of the delicate carvings, he examined the most impressive furnishing he had ever owned.

  It was then Jason noticed the small portrait of his bride. With a sigh, he smiled, and uncharacteristic tears blurred his vision. “Exquisite, darling.”

  As he returned to stand at the center of the room, he gazed upon a magnificent rendering of the Collingwood coat of arms, hanging above the fireplace. On the mantel rested a unique maritime clock, and upon further inspection he discovered the timepiece was, in fact, a rare Harrison. “Superb, sweetheart.”

  Matching bookcases filled the right wall, and on the opposite side, two large displays featured his collection of spyglasses and compasses, including the family heirloom his father had used. Jason rotated and absorbed the majesty and intimacy of his sanctuary and wiped the moisture from the corner of his eyes.

  Without thought, he ran from the study and ascended the stairs, two at a time. In the gallery, he skidded to a stop, as resplendent works of art filled the cavernous hall. But what snared his attention was the large, full-length portrait of his bride, hugging her swollen belly.

  After untying his cravat, Jason doffed his coat and waistcoat, and trod down the corridor, which led to the octagon-shaped chamber he shared with the woman of his dreams. In the sitting room, he deposited the clothing on a chair and then eased open the interior door.

  The apartment remained dark, and Alex slept, propped on a mountain of pillows. He stifled a chuckle, as he stripped from his shirt, boots, and breeches. The bedroom was chilly on that cool September morning, so he relit and stoked a blaze in the hearth. Naked and aroused, so what else was new, he slipped between the sheets.

  As soon as he drew a cushion to his side, his wife rolled into him, snuggled close, rested a hand to his chest and her head to his shoulder, sighed, and smiled a feminine smile. He tucked the blankets beneath her chin and exhaled in unutterable contentment. And Jason vowed that, somehow, some way, he would declare his love.

  #

  The sun peaked through the heavy drapes, as Alex yawned and nestled closer to Jason’s warmth. Then she flinched and opened her eyes. Had she conjured a lifelike dream? If so, it was a most cherished fantasy, which had graced her waking hours every day, without fail, since her captain’s departure.

  The subtle rush of his breath gave her gooseflesh, and she caressed his glorious chest. But that vision and sensation had summoned her from peaceful slumber only yesterday, so she skimmed her fingers lower and squeezed his oh-so-reliable erection, which her reveries had neglected to replicate with any semblance of accuracy. “You are home.”

  Jason started and woke. “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Oh.” Alex shrieked and hugged him tight. “How I missed you, as it has been difficult to sleep without you at my side.”

  “I missed you, too. And I apologize for interrupting your routine.” With a chuckle, he winked and kissed her forehead. “You warned
that might happen.”

  “You are forgiven, as you kept your promise and returned to me.” Then, to her embarrassment, she wept.

  “Sweetheart, please do not cry.” Her knight cupped her cheek and teased her lips with his thumb. “I drove all night to be with you, and I can bear anything but your tears.”

  “I am sorry.” How Alex wanted to tell him the truth, as while she had decorated his study, surrounded by his personal items, he had captured her, all over again. But once before she had proclaimed her love, and Jason had rejected her. In her current vulnerable state, she could not withstand another disappointment, so she raised her defenses. “I have a surprise for you, which I would show you after breakfast.”

  “Well I have a surprise for you.” He cast her a lopsided grin. “I may have ruined your surprise.”

  “You have seen it?” Crestfallen, she pouted.

  “If you reference my study, yes, I have, and it is...never have I...you should not...bloody hell.” Jason gritted his teeth and groaned. “Alex, you have outdone yourself. When I purchased Stratfield, I had imagined a serviceable country estate to raise a family. What you have managed, in so little time, humbles me, as you have exceeded my expectations, and I am so proud of you.”

  “Praise, indeed.” And she could have danced a jig, were she not eight months pregnant, but ever-present doubt nagged at her consciousness. “So you are not vexed that I commandeered your private space, in your absence?”

  “On the contrary, everything is beyond compare, and I cannot believe you procured a Harrison. Really, darling, you are amazing.” And then Jason furrowed his brow and frowned. “But I do have one complaint.”

  “Oh?” Alex had celebrated her victory too soon. “There is something not to your taste?”

  “Yes.” He tapped a finger to her nose. “Your picture on my desk—”

  “We can remove it.” Knife to the heart with lethal accuracy. “It was just an afterthought—my little joke.”

  “Hold hard, love, as this is no joke, to me.” Jason toyed with her nipple, and she gasped. “My issue is not with your portrait, as I should prefer nothing more than to gaze on your stunning face, but with the size, as the current rendering is too small. With your permission, I would take the miniature with me, aboard the Intrepid, as it is perfect for travel. And we can commission a larger work for my desk.”