by Candace Camp
It was only a few feet to the bed, but the journey there took a long time, for they paused to kiss, to caress, to unfasten a garment and toss it aside. By the time they reached the bed, their clothes were gone, their bodies too heated to feel any evening chill. Sabrina gazed at Alex’s long, lean body in appreciation, all former embarrassment falling away. Placing her hand on his chest, she moved it slowly across his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, the bony ridges of his ribs, following the hard center line of his chest downward.
She kissed his flesh, her tongue circling the hard buttons of his nipples as he had done with her the night before, and her hands roamed farther, skimming down his back and over his buttocks, sliding back around across his thighs. Every small sound he made, every twitch, every flare of heat in his skin, multiplied her own pleasure. She felt the passion surging in him, intensifying her own.
Beloved, she thought, though she dared not say it. Not yet. Not now.
Alex lifted her up and laid her down on the bed, stretching out beside her. He caressed her body with the same loving attention Sabrina had shown to his, and as his hands and lips moved over Sabrina, the heat inside her built to such heights she thought she could not go any higher, feel any more. Yet each time his lovemaking carried her on.
Then, at last, he moved between her legs, coming into her with the same slow power. Sabrina wrapped herself around him, moving with him, and gave herself up to the storm of pleasure. He filled her senses, her mind, her very being, it seemed, and when she reached the peak and shattered, she felt him shudder and fall with her into the sweet ecstasy.
* * *
HE AWAKENED IN a dark room, the only light a shaft of tepid sunlight through a high window. And even in the dream, he recognized it as the same place, the same time, the same chill of fear. He tried to turn over and bury his head to make it go away, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, trapped in the undefined dread.
“Alex. Alex!”
His eyes flew open. Sabrina bent over him, shaking his shoulder. He stared at her blankly, lost between worlds. “Oh. Sabrina. I’m sorry.” He sat up, rubbing his hands across his face. “Did I wake you?”
“You were dreaming. I woke up and you were thrashing about and mumbling.”
He could feel the film of sweat on his skin and the heat of his body beneath it. Why had his body betrayed him, sending the dream to him now, of all times? The last person he wanted to witness his weakness was Sabrina.
“Yes. I had a nightmare.”
“About what?”
“Nothing, really, you know, just the sort of crazy thing one dreams. It’s over now.”
Sabrina’s forehead creased in concern. “It didn’t seem like nothing.” She paused, looking at him, and when he didn’t reply, she let out a sigh and flopped over onto her back. “Very well. If you don’t wish to tell me...”
The chill in her voice equaled the one of the air touching his damp skin.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Alex explained hastily, then stopped, scrabbling for a reasonable excuse, since the fact was that she was exactly correct. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“I told you about my nightmare,” Sabrina pointed out.
“Yes, but...”
“But what?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Why?” She turned to her side again, batted her eyes at him and said in a saccharine voice, “Because you’re a big, strong man, and I’m just a little woman?”
“No!” he said in a groan, pulling at his hair. “Devil take it. You’ve clearly been around my mother too long. It’s because I don’t want you to see...that.”
“See what?”
“My fear. Over nothing. My...weakness.”
“Alex...” She snuggled up to him, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around him. He had to admit, it made him feel inexplicably better about the whole thing. “Having a frightening dream isn’t weakness. Everyone has nightmares. I’ll warrant even Achilles had nightmares.”
“Yes, well, who wouldn’t, getting dipped in the River Styx when you were a baby?” She chuckled, and that sound, the vibration of it against his chest, somehow made everything better, too. He let out a sigh. “I have the same nightmare, over and over. I’ve had it for years. I’m in a dark room. Alone, knowing I’m locked in. Unable to get out.”
“Like what happened to you years ago. When I ‘saw’ you.”
He nodded, sliding his hand up and down her arm. “Yes. They started after that.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.”
“Yes. For a child. Not for a grown man. I’m not small, I’m not young. It’s not even life-threatening—no monstrous creature chasing me, no falling off a cliff. You’d think one would get over it after a time. I thought I had, but this past year they’ve started up again.”
“The unknown, the invisible, can be scarier than something you can see.”
After a moment, he said quietly, “I’ve never been as brave as Con.”
“As brave or as rash?”
Alex laughed. “Obviously didn’t take you long to peg my brother.”
“It was rather apparent—a steady sort of man wouldn’t run about dressed up like a carnival barker, even in disguise.”
“He has an odd sense of humor,” Alex agreed. He smiled. “I fear I share that—at least to the extent of laughing at what he does.”
Sabrina rose up to look him in the face, her arms braced on his chest. “It must have been difficult being a twin—always compared to one another. I suspect that you have qualities Constantine wishes he had.”
“He’d love to have some peculiar ability like mine,” Alex admitted. “Lord only knows why.”
“It’s not a crime to be different from your twin in some ways.”
“It feels odd. We were always so similar. We acted the same, thought the same—Con was like another part of myself.”
“Is he no longer that? Do you not know what he’s thinking? Or doing?”
“Oh, most of the time I know. One has only to look at Con to know he’s contemplating mischief.” He paused, then added, “Or when he’s sad, though that doesn’t happen often. It’s dead easy to read him.”
“For you. Not for everyone else.” Sabrina leaned down and kissed his lips. “You don’t have to be Con. And you don’t have to be ever brave. Especially when you aren’t conscious.” She kissed him again. “Most especially for me. You know me better than anyone, however short a time you’ve known me. And I know you. There’s no need to be anything other than yourself.” She smoothed a hand across his chest, then leaned down to kiss the skin where her hand had been.
“You are a persuasive woman,” Alex said, wrapping his arms around her and rolling over so that she was beneath him. “And I know an excellent remedy for nightmares.”
She smiled. “Really? And what is that?”
“This.” His mouth came down to fasten on hers, and all thoughts of dreams or fears disappeared.
* * *
ALEX AWAKENED THE next morning in an empty bed. His stomach clenched and he sat up, shoving the covers aside, but then he heard the sound of Sabrina’s voice in the next room, followed by the clatter of dishes. He eased back down, linking his arms behind his head, and let himself float for a few moments in the aura of domesticity.
But the tug of duty, not to mention hunger, pulled him from his bed to clean up, shave and dress. When he stepped into the other room, a few minutes later, he found Sabrina standing at the window, looking out, humming beneath her breath. Since the day outside was gray and drizzly and the view she had was of the stables, Alex suspected it wasn’t the scene she contemplated that made her so cheerful. She turned and her face lit up, warming him in a most gratifying way.
“I had them bring breakfast.” She came forward and went on tiptoe to brush his lip
s with hers. He pulled her back for a longer kiss.
“I’m not sure I’m hungry,” he told her in a low voice.
Sabrina pulled away, laughing and rosy, and took his hand to pull him to the table. “I am. Tea?”
She poured him a cup while Alex began to pile food on his plate. They sat down to eat, talking as they did so. “Are we going to the next town on the road to Andover to visit the church?”
Alex half shrugged. “My guess is that this ‘wedding’ took place in Andover, as there would be more clergymen to choose from, but I don’t see how we can afford to pass them by. Truthfully, I cannot imagine how any minister could have agreed to marry you, special license or not, given the condition you were in. You had to be propped up to even stand, and I can’t imagine that you were able to give clear answers.”
She nodded. “It would have to be a very havey-cavey sort of churchman.”
“Yes, I would think that a large payment would have been involved, if the man was venal enough, or perhaps a bit of blackmail. Or both. I’ve been thinking. That’s why they took such a peculiar route. Look.” Drawing on an invisible map on the table, he went on, “They started here, then up to Andover, but then they turn to the southeast.”
“Didn’t the driver say they were headed for Winchester?”
He nodded. “I have some thoughts on that, too. Do the Dearborns have any connection to Winchester?”
“Not that I know of, but obviously there were a number of things I didn’t know about them.”
“I can’t help but notice that below Winchester is Southampton.”
Sabrina’s eyes widened. “You think he was going to take me onto a ship?”
“It makes sense—in a very slimy sort of way. We’ve already posited that he took you away from home so that no one who knew you would see what happened. But where are they to go after that? If they come home, you’ll eventually emerge from your fog and tell everyone what happened. If they travel to some other place in England, there’s the chance that you’ll wake up and call for help—or escape, as you did. But on a ship, he can keep you locked up and drugged and excuse it with sea sickness. Even if you awakened, you’d be on a ship in the middle of the Channel or crossing the ocean—there’d be no escape.”
“Until we docked—where I would be alone in a foreign country, among strangers, disoriented, not knowing the language. It would put me at a great disadvantage.”
“Exactly.”
“But we couldn’t have stayed away forever. We’d have to come home sometime. People would wonder where I was.”
“True. But Mr. Dearborn could go home, say you two had a whirlwind marriage and sailed off to Europe on your honeymoon. You could be gone several weeks, a month, with no one thinking anything of it. By the time you come back...” Alex had managed to keep his tone even and logical so far, but now he could not hold back the raw fury in him. “By then, you couldn’t deny his story without ruining your reputation beyond repair. You would have to reveal that for a month you had been living with a man. You could even...” He cleared his throat. “You could have even been carrying his child.”
Sabrina blanched. “You think he would have forced me?”
Alex reached out, resting a hand on her arm. “Given all the rest he did, I don’t know why he would have stopped at that. But even if he had enough decency not to, everyone would assume otherwise. If you left him, if you told people, you would have suffered terribly from the scandal. I imagine they hoped that once you saw how your circumstances were, you would give in. Accept it. After all, you had ’til then been compliant with them. You and Peter had affection of some sort for each other.”
“Not at that point,” Sabrina said flatly. “But yes, I can see that they would believe I was too spineless to kick up a fuss. But if they meant to take me to Southampton, or even just to Winchester, why wouldn’t they drive straight there? It would have been much closer.”
“Exactly. Andover is so far out of the way that I can only think they went there because they knew a clergyman whom they could rely on to do it. One who could be paid or blackmailed.”
Sabrina sat back. “That makes sense. Unfortunately, I don’t know who they knew in Andover.”
“A vicar of questionable morals would probably not be someone they would have introduced to a young lady.”
“I don’t think we can be positive it took place in Andover,” Sabrina mused. “They would have probably taken that road to get to any town between Andover and here. That’s a main thoroughfare.”
“Yes. You’re right. We can’t just head for Andover. We really must stop at each and every one.”
They spent the morning in pursuit of their elusive clergyman but met with little success. It was early in the afternoon when they stopped at their third church. The pastor there was a jolly sort and willing to help, and if he found their questions odd, he evinced none of the surprise or suspicion that the first two clergymen had shown.
“Let me see, let me see,” he mused, bouncing a little on his toes. “Three weeks ago. Was that the weekend of the fete? No, that was the week before. Ah, I remember! I took a few days after the fete—they can be quite exhausting, you know. We went to the theater in Andover one day that week. I cannot remember if it was the exact date you mentioned. Wonderful performance—a farce, which I prefer to a drama, don’t you?”
“But did anyone—” Alex began, but the man had turned and was puttering around at his desk.
“I believe I have a program from the theater. Perhaps it has the date. There we are.” With an air of triumph, he pulled out a booklet from a pile and came back around to show them. “Hmm, no, it doesn’t seem to have a date.” He leafed through the pages and sighed. “That’s too bad.”
“Wait!” Sabrina snatched the program from the startled man’s hands and flipped back a couple of pages.
“Sabrina? What is it?” Alex went to her, alarmed by the sudden pallor of her face.
She pointed to a page containing pen-and-ink drawings of the cast. “This man. That’s him. He’s the priest.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“OH, NO, DEAR,” the vicar told her kindly. “That man is an actor, not a clergyman. He was in the play we saw—though I don’t believe he was the vicar. That was a shorter man.”
“An actor!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing the pamphlet from Sabrina’s trembling hands and peering at the drawing. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” He let out a low curse.
“Sir!” the vicar said in an appalled voice. “Think where you are. And there’s a lady present.”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry.”
“Terribly sorry,” Sabrina told the cleric, giving him a shaky smile. Her stomach was like ice, and her heart pounding. “We are, um... What I meant was, I’ve seen this man. In a play.”
“Then you know the company?” The vicar beamed.
“No, I... It was somewhere else.”
“Where is this place?” Alex turned to the reverend, tapping his finger on the cover. “This theater. Where is it in Andover?”
“Why, near the center of town, close to the old market. But why—”
“Thank you,” Alex said. The look on his face was so fierce that the other man stopped speaking and took a step back.
“You’ve been a great help,” Sabrina assured the vicar as Alex whisked her out of the room.
Behind her, she heard the man splutter, “But, sir! Wait! My program.”
Outside, Sabrina turned to Alex, her eyes glowing. “This means it was a sham, doesn’t it? He wasn’t a clergyman, just an actor pretending to be one.”
“Yes. It makes perfect sense. They had to act quickly once Dearborn locked you in your room. No time to get a special license, and I would imagine it’s a difficult task to find a wayward clergyman who would be willing to perform such a ceremony. Far easier to get an actor who would play the p
art for a fee. He probably even had a handy clerical suit from the troupe’s wardrobe.”
“Peter or Mr. Dearborn probably knew him and knew he would do it. That’s why they diverted their course to Andover.”
Alex nodded, taking her hands in his. “The important thing is...you’re free, Sabrina. You’re no one’s wife.”
“Oh, Alex!” Sabrina threw herself into his arms, and Alex picked her up and whirled her around, laughing. “I’m so glad! This is wonderful. It’s such a relief.”
“Now,” Alex said, setting her down, his voice and face taking on a grim determination. “We just need to find this bloody actor.”
Alex set their horse off at its fastest pace, cursing that it was not faster. As they neared Andover, the traffic increased, but he deftly threaded his way through it. Once in the town, it was easy enough to locate the theater.
The theater doors were locked, but Alex pounded on them like a madman until finally a harassed-looking man opened the door and stuck his head out.
“What the devil do you want? The theater is closed now. Performance is in two hours. No one here but me, and I’m trying to get my job done.”
“What I want is that man.” Alex held out the theater’s program, folded back, and jabbed his finger at the picture of the actor.
“Fairfield?” the man asked.
“Is that his name?”
“Only one I know,” the other man replied. “Anderson Fairfield.”
“Where is he?”
“In his rooms, I imagine.” He pointed down the street. “Three blocks down, top floor.”
The man seemed happy enough to give up Fairfield, but Alex tipped him a coin anyway, and then they headed down the street. When they reached the building, he turned to Sabrina. “I want to see him alone.”
“Alex! I’m not standing by while you take care of it.”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve been thinking how to go about it. I don’t want him to recognize you before I question him. Just wait in the hall a bit first, then come in.”