“You don’t have to be upset on account of the earl. He’s been very tolerant of your illness, and I don’t expect him to go changing now.”
That wasn’t why she was upset, but Summer didn’t feel she could share the true cause of her agitation with Bridgit. From the moment she had been well enough to think of anything other than her nausea and her aching body, she had been preoccupied with worry over the future of her unborn child. Miraculously she was still small, but it was too late to think of passing the baby off as the earl’s child even if she could have forced herself to let him touch her. She had to find another way, but what?
Maybe she could throw herself on his mercy. She was prepared to promise anything as long as she could keep her child, but did she really believe he would allow another man’s child to be reared as his first born, especially after he learned that Brent was the father?
A voice inside her screamed that she was a fool to think the earl would allow her to keep the baby, but she refused to accept the evidence she had of his unforgiving, vindictive character. She told herself that she hardly knew him. Surely there was a way to persuade him if she just approached him at the right time and in the right way.
Maybe he would let her go. She didn’t know what she would do, but she was prepared to face any peril for the sake of Brent’s child. There was no possibility that she could pay Gowan back—Ashton wouldn’t give up the money even if he still had it—but she was ready to work on her hands and knees for the rest of her life if it would save her son.
Bridgit had worked to get Summer to accept her husband for weeks, but now when it seemed that she was about to do just that, the older woman could not dispel the feeling that this was not what Summer intended to do.
“I don’t know what she’s planning,” fretted Bridgit as she tidied up, “but it isn’t natural for a woman fixing to eat dinner with her husband to act like every sound signifies the coming of Lucifer himself.”
“That was a excellent dinner, my dear,” Gowan said as Bridgit removed his plate and set out the brandy. “It confirms me in my opinion that I did well to come after you.”
“You were undecided?” Summer asked.
“From the wild story Brinklow told me, I supposed you to have been carried off by no less than a thousand ferocious savages. I was sure you’d be dead long before I could reach you. And even if you were alive, I suspected it would be impossible to overcome such a force as he described. It wasn’t until the next day that the quaking fool remembered to give me Brent’s message, and then I knew he’d exaggerated. I also knew that I had to move with great speed if I was to reach you before the good captain had time to work his mischief.”
“Mischief?”
“I doubted Captain Douglas could be depended upon to honor the bonds of decency. It seemed to me he would never be so foolish as to abuse you at sea and not share his good fortune with the crew, and I greatly feared for your safety once he had you on his island.” Summer didn’t trust herself to comment. Voicing any of the words that fought for utterance would render her task hopeless.
“I had acted as his guardian after his father died. The young hothead lacked the mettle to do more than strangle an old drunk.” If Gowan had thought to look at Summer, rather than his brandy, he might never have finished his speech. Implacable hatred was reflected in her eyes.
“The captain was very protective of me,” Summer stated, trembling from the effort to keep her voice steady. “He only took me to Biscay Island after a caballero tried to molest me.”
“He was just protecting his investment,” Gowan replied indifferently.
“The captain treated me like an honored guest, not a prisoner to be ransomed.”
“It’s the custom to treat captives of high rank as honored guests,” Gowan declared, and his oily superiority made Summer long to claw at his scar. “Brent Douglas may be a spineless fool, but he was brought up a gentleman.”
“What would you have done if he had abused me?”
Gowan’s third brandy caused him to miss the tension in Summer’s voice. “Sooner or later I would have hunted him down and killed him.” His scar curled menacingly.
“And me?” she said softly. “What would you have done about me?”
“I would not have recognized you. It is unthinkable that I should acknowledge a wife who had been dishonored by Brent Douglas.”
The sound of her beloved’s name on Gowan’s lips cut Summer to the quick. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover a tiny moan.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes. I fear my digestion is not yet used to such rich foods.”
“Allow me to turn your thoughts to something more pleasant.” He rose from his chair. “This is a small gift I slipped into my pocket to bring along.” Gowan took a large case from his coat as he came toward her. “It’s not an heirloom, but it’s a nice little set.” Summer nearly stopped breathing when he opened the case. Lying on a piece of white satin was a great ruby necklace set in a heavy gold-and-diamond setting. “You might say it’s a wedding gift.” Try as she might Summer could not keep from recoiling.
“You needn’t be reluctant to wear it.” Gowan misread her reaction. “It’s yours. And so are these.” He produced a second case which contained a pair of earrings and a bracelet, also rubies, diamonds, and gold. “And this too.” He reached for yet a third case which contained a huge brooch; Summer was speechless. “How do you like them?”
“They are stunning,” she gasped, awed by the sheer extravagance of so many jewels. “They must have cost as much as you paid for me.”
“They’re worth a lot more than that, but they’re not nearly as valuable as what I received in exchange.”
But Summer didn’t hear his extravagant compliment. To her, the jewels were a symbol of Brent’s death, and as she stared at the prodigal display, it seemed to change into something grotesque and horrible. Had Brent lived, she would never have received these expensive items. Had his treatment of her been known, she wouldn’t even be on this ship. The jewels were blood money, a kind of dowry of death; she shrank from them as from a coiled snake.
“Let me help you put them on,” purred Gowan, his expression warming at Summer’s nearness.
“Take them away!” she cried in alarm. “I don’t want them.” She half rose in the chair, backing away from the necklace dangling in the air before her.
“You don’t want these jewels?” Gowan’s disbelief was evident.
“Don’t let them touch me. They’re covered with blood, Brent’s blood.” Summer knocked her chair over in her haste to get away from the table. She ran to the door and wrenched it open. “Bridgit!” she cried.
“Sit down and stop acting like a lunatic,” ordered the coldly furious Gowan. “There’s nothing wrong with these jewels.”
“Keep them away from me, damn you!” Summer cried. Bridgit hurried in, and she hurled herself at the poor woman.
“What’s the matter, milady?” Brigit was completely bewildered. She wondered what Gowan could have done to have caused the composed countess she had left to turn into the pathetically crazed girl now clinging to her for protection.
“For some reason that I’m at a loss to understand, the sight of these jewels has completely deranged her,” Gowan stated. “One minute she was perfectly normal, the next she was a raving maniac. She’s mad, I tell you.”
Bridgit looked sadly at the distraught girl.
“You promised me she was better,” the earl said accusingly.
“I never knew her to act like this,” Bridgit declared helplessly, “not unless she was having a nightmare. Are you sure you didn’t say something to cause her to remember your shooting that young man?”
“I hardly even mentioned the captain.” Gowan’s scar curled.
“Maybe she’s tried to do too much.”
“She invited me here,” the earl reminded her.
“I know, but she’s weaker than she thinks. Why don’t you step outside and I’ll see if I
can get her to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I think she’s completely crazy, and I will not suffer the disgrace of being married to a half-wit.” Gowan said this more to himself than to Bridgit. “If she’s not sane when we land, I shall deny that I have ever set eyes on her and will leave her to the parish house.”
“She’s not crazy,” Bridgit insisted. “I’ve been with her every minute since you brought her on this ship. I’ve seen her when she was sick and raving, when she wept hysterically, and when she was scared half out of her mind, but never once did I think her crazy. Sick, exhausted, and confused—yes. Just let me talk to her. I know there’s a reason for all of this.”
“Try if you want,” Gowan snapped, “but you’re wasting your time.” He picked up the three cases and left the room.
Chapter 37
Brent tossed about in the bed, dashing the damp cloth from his forehead.
“Señor Douglas, you’ve got to stop wearing yourself out like this, or you’ll never get out of this bed,” Juanita said, dipping the cloth in cool water and then replacing it on his forehead.
“I’ve got to get up,” Brent muttered through the clouds of fever that clogged his brain. “I’ve got to find Summer.”
“You will, just as soon as you’re able to get about a little,” the heavyset woman said soothingly. “But now it’s time to take your medicine.”
Brent turned away from her.
“And there’s no use putting your face to the wall. If you refuse, I’ll get Mr. Smith to comé hold you so I can pour it down you.”
Brent’s wound had begun to heal, but a series of debilitating fevers had attacked him, each one more devastating than the last, until he was unable to do more than roll about helplessly in his bed. But his fevered brain had not forgotten Summer. He accepted the medicine from Juanita’s hands, but he was still restive, his half-formed thoughts still dominated by the need to find his love.
“I’ve got to get up,” Brent insisted, but he barely managed to lift his head from the pillow before it fell back again.
“You rest for a while,” crooned Juanita. “We’re going to go after that nasty earl, but it won’t do any good if you’re so weak you can’t even sit up in your bed.”
“I’m too weak to move,” he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.
“And you’re going to be that way for some time.” Juanita pulled up the sheet that had fallen off during his thrashing about. “The doctor says you ought to be dead, so you should be thankful that you can open your eyes, let alone run about cutting up an earl.”
Brent’s struggles grew sluggish; finally they stopped altogether.
“Sleep,” Juanita said soothingly. “You’ll soon be up again, and then that earl will wish he’d never set eyes on the señora. It just about breaks my heart to think the poor thing was carried off by that disciple of Satan, all the while thinking you’re dead.”
The door opened on silent hinges, and Smith entered to begin the evening watch.
“How is he today?”
“Still fretting himself into a fever. And the whole time he’s crying for the señora fit to break your heart. It goes against my grain to keep him so drugged up, Mr. Smith.”
“You know he’d never stay in bed long enough to get well if we didn’t, and it would kill him if he were to go after the earl in his present condition.”
“I know, but he’s going to kill us when he does get well.”
“I’m the one who gave the order, and I’m the one who has to bear the responsibility for it. Go get your dinner. Pedro is waiting for you.”
“You think the señora is all right?” Juanita asked. “Every time I go to sleep, I see that man’s face and I’m in mortal fear for her.”
“The earl has no reason to harm Mrs. Douglas. He think she’s his wife, so does she.”
“But what about the baby? She can’t hide that forever.”
“I don’t know,” Smith confessed. “We’ll just have to hope she can take care of herself until the captain is well enough to go after her.”
“When will that be?”
“It won’t be long now.” Smith looked down at Brent. “If I know Captain Douglas, he’ll make us carry him on board as soon as he can sit up. I’ve already sent Williams to Havana to gather the crew. We should be on the high seas before the end of the month.”
Chapter 38
Summer was restless and irritable. She had sent Lucy to bed with strict orders not to disturb her, but she couldn’t sleep. She sat down and picked up a book, but she soon flung it from her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she declared in a peevish voice. “I feel like a caged animal tearing at the bars. If having Gowan around is going to have this effect on me, I’ll go mad before the year’s out.”
Summer’s first month at Glenstal had passed quickly. Gowan had been away most of the time and when he’d returned she’d kept to her room, complaining of sick headaches and weak spells. At first, Gowan had accepted her excuses without question, but recently his temper had become so terrible that even the servants tried to avoid him. Her apartment was no longer a haven from the menacing forces closing in on her in an ever-tightening circle, for as Gowan showed increasing impatience with her illness, it was becoming apparent that before many days passed he was going to demand, and probably attempt to take, his marriage rights. Thinking of his touch, of his lips on hers, sickened Summer, but fear of what he would do when he discovered she was pregnant made her blood run cold.
The outline of her swelling belly was so unmistakable that the servants already suspected her condition. Very soon she had to tell Gowan, face the fire storm of his fury, or run away. But where could she go? She was penniless, and no one would help her hide from her lawful husband. Furthermore she had no idea what to tell him; months of thinking hadn’t provided her with an answer.
“There’s no use giving yourself a headache trying to come up with something clever,” Bridgit had informed her when she’d begged the censorious housekeeper to help her. “Nothing on earth is going to keep him from having a conniption fit. You’d be putting your time to better use if you was trying to figure out how to keep from getting a broken head, for I tell you, milady, I fear for you when you tell him. I really do.”
Summer didn’t hear the door open; she looked up and found the earl standing on the threshold. He rarely entered her apartments and she was unsure of what had brought him to them that night.
“I hope you don’t consider my presence an intrusion.”
“Not an intrusion exactly.”
“But unwelcome nevertheless?” He was being extremely cool, even for him, thought Summer.
“If there’s something you’ve forgotten to discuss with me, I wish you would save it until the morning. I’m really quite tired.”
“I approve of the changes you made here,” Gowan replied, ignoring her request and looking about the room.
“It was much too somber for me, and please don’t sit on that chair.”
“Am I not permitted to sit in my wife’s bedchamber?” he asked sharply.
“I doubt it will bear your weight, and I would rather you didn’t stay.”
“Nevertheless, I intend to remain, and as this is the only chair you have provided, other than the one you are presently occupying, I am forced to hope that it will not break.” Summer eyed him uneasily. He was carrying himself well, but she was sure he had been drinking and she didn’t like the set of his jaw. It was so rigid, his words seemed to come from between clenched teeth. Instinctively she pulled the dressing gown more tightly about her.
“I presume you’ve come for a specific purpose,” she said, finding the long silence uncomfortable.
“Yes, and no,” Gowan replied. “I have been away so much I run the risk of being entirely out of touch with your accomplishments. From what I hear, you’ve become a great favorite with all the old tabbies and encrusted titles for miles about.”
“You don’t make that sound like much of an a
chievement.”
“You must forgive me if I put it clumsily.” Gowan looked at her with eyes that resembled those of a predatory animal. “I might not find myself in agreement with all you seek to do, but I’m in awe at the rapidity with which you have accomplished it.”
“I can’t take the credit. Mrs. Slampton-Sands has been very kind.”
“I haven’t noticed the gentlemen holding back.”
“Gentlemen may admire a woman as much as they like,” Summer said coldly, “but it’s the ladies who decide whether she’s accepted or not. You can rest assured they wouldn’t accept me if I offered improper encouragement to their husbands.”
“I would never accuse you of giving encouragement to any man, my dear, not when you can’t even bring yourself to allow me to touch you.”
“I don’t take that as a compliment.”
“It is merely a statement of fact. I find your high-bred coolness quite admirable. There is a little too much of the snob about it for perfect comfort, but I feel sure in time you can be brought to clothe your disapproval in a less obvious guise.”
“If you mean by that twisted phrase that you hope I will be pleased to invite the vulgar men you call your business friends into my house again, let me assure you that is not the case.” Summer’s color heightened as her temper rose, but Gowan’s faded and Summer was made extremely uncomfortable by the pause that preceded his reply.
“Let me first point out that this is my house, and I intend to invite anyone here I wish.”
“But you can’t force me to be polite to them,” she replied mulishly.
“You will find there are more unpleasant ways to spend an evening than making polite conversation with even the most underbred person. And don’t bore me again with the litany of how hard you’ve worked for me and how little you’ve asked in return. First, it was that I might not touch you. Now you will not meet my friends. Next I imagine you will forbid me to enter your bedchamber, and after that you will probably agree to meet me only at dinner.
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