The Captain's Caress

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by Leigh Greenwood


  “But where shall I go?” Summer asked. “I have no dowry, and I can’t support the child alone.”

  “I don’t propose that you go anywhere or that you support the child. You must remain here as my wife. No explanation would cover your departure from Glenstal without discrediting me.”

  Cold fear gripped her heart. “What are you going to do?”

  “When you are nearing your time, I shall announce that I do not trust the local doctors with the safe delivery of anything so precious as my heir. I shall take you to Edinburgh to. be attended by specially chosen physicians.”

  “And…”

  “It will be announced that the child has been born dead. In reality, I will secretly place it in a foster home far from here.”

  “I won’t let you!” Summer was too dazed to be able to move. She stared at Gowan, on her face a mixture of fear and doubt, but his calculating impassivity did not waver.

  “You will have no choice. It will be arranged ahead of time and you will agree to it.”

  “Nothing will make me abandon my child!” she declared adamantly.

  “Even though it’s the spawn of a common criminal?”

  “It is my child, too,” she said miserably.

  “Why don’t you confess that you were in love with Brent Douglas,” Gowan demanded, now in a black fury, “that you couldn’t wait to fall into his arms every night?”

  “I did fall in love with Brent,” Summer said simply, “more deeply than I had ever dreamed possible, but I didn’t fall in love willingly and I didn’t fall into his arms every night. I supposed it’s a judgement of sorts that he should love the medium of his revenge and I the man who seduced me, but it’s too bitter an irony to find myself wife to his enemy and to know his child is subject to your mercy.”

  “I can find no sympathy for your moving tale. Even if things were as you say, a woman of character would have continued to revile the man and spurn his embraces.”

  “No woman could be indifferent to Brent.” A sad smile of remembrance came to Summer’s lips. “I don’t think any woman ever tried.”

  “And you call yourself an honest woman?”

  “Yes. I tried not to love him, but I couldn’t help it. After a while it hardly seemed worthwhile to keep resisting. Then he took me to Biscay Island, and I knew he loved me as much as I loved him.”

  “This tale is as mawkish as it is wanton. You are a lusting wench, and once this child is out of the way, I shall take pleasure in seeing that you have all the amorous attention you could possibly desire.”

  “You will never be able to separate me from my child,” Summer cried. “I will never give my baby up.”

  “Don’t force me to take drastic measures.”

  “I shall run away.”

  “Speak of that again and I shall lock you in your apartments and post a guard at the door until time for your delivery.”

  Summer was beginning to think that she had truly lost. “Please let me keep my baby. I don’t want anything else. You can tell people both of us died.”

  “That would be easy to arrange if it were the result I wanted,” Gowan admitted, and his cold, viper’s eyes told Summer that he would calmly murder them both if that suited his ends.

  “You can be as grief stricken as you like, but I will spare your child only on the condition that you divulge the truth to no one. Should you do so, your offspring will not live to grow up.”

  “No! ” The cry was a soaring wail of anguish torn from the very depths of Summer’s soul. “Don’t make my life more of a living hell than it already is!” She slid from the chair to the floor and rocked back and forth on her knees. “I beg of you, just let me go. I promise you’ll never hear of me again.”

  “You must remain here as my wife.”

  “Why? What can you want with a woman for whom you feel nothing but scorn and contempt, a woman who hates you and loves another man, a woman who bears the child of the one man in the world you loathe?”

  “I find you very beautiful,” he said flatly.

  “That’s not it,” Summer insisted. “My beauty hasn’t tempted you in all these months, so why should it now?”

  “You’re wrong. It has tempted me quite often.”

  “I don’t believe that’s it at all. There’s some other reason, and I demand to know what it is.”

  “You’re in no position to demand anything.”

  “I will make your life miserable. I’ll fight your every move. I’ll run counter to your every wish.”

  “You can be dealt with,” Gowan said calmly.

  “You can’t keep everything that happens in this castle a secret. Abuse me and it will cost you any remaining loyalty your people have. They already hate and despise you so much they might even be willing to strike a blow to help me.”

  “Are you seriously trying to threaten me?” He found it hard to believe that this lone, fragile girl could actually think she could intimidate him.

  “I’m trying to get you to tell me the truth. Why do you insist that I be your wife when you’d rather be married to almost anyone else in Scotland?”

  “I’ll tell you, since you will have it, but it will do you no good.” His expression was so ugly Summer began to wish she hadn’t sent Bridgit from the room. “I inherited Glenstal from a distant cousin I remembered only from one short, disagreeable visit. All I knew of him was that he had eloped after a whirlwind romance and had then died quite mysteriously. Years later I saw a portrait of a young girl, done by a painter who had visited the Indies. The girl was the image of my cousin. I remembered that the girl my cousin had eloped with had been quickly married to someone else and sent off to the Caribbean.”

  “My mother.” Summer was beginning to understand the tangled explanation.

  “Exactly. My distant cousin was Frederick Boyleston. At the time, only a few people knew he had eloped with your mother; none knew that he had a child. Even I had no suspicion until I saw your portrait. You are Boyleston’s legitimate daughter and a possible claimant to these estates. I’ve never been able to find the records of that marriage and destroy them, but that’s unimportant now. As your husband I control your property. I had no choice but to go after you.”

  “So you are as much tied to a wife you dislike as I am to a husband I loathe. That’s why you brought me back even though you never believed I was still a virgin.”

  “It does seem an unfortunate tangle.”

  “And I’m bearing the son of the man you tried to ruin, the grandson of the woman you wanted to marry and the man who was once your best friend.”

  “Your perception is remarkable,” said Gowan. Summer suddenly smiled and then laughed. She tried to check herself, but her laughter began to erupt in uncontrollable bursts. Finally, she sank down upon the sofa, helpless.

  “You’re hysterical.” Gowan feared the madness that had struck her during the voyage had reappeared. “I’ll call Mrs. Barlow.”

  “No, don’t,” she managed to say. “She’d never understand.”

  “Should I?”

  “Don’t you see that the joke’s on you?” she asked.

  “I can’t see any joke at all,” he said icily.

  “You must see it,” Summer choked out through her laughter. “I’m the heir to the estates you inherited by mistake. You can’t get rid of me without losing the whole basis of your power because you’ve buried the money you stole from Brent into my estate to hide it from the world. And right here in my body is the one person who can rob you of everything you’ve struggled for your whole life. My child can destroy you and all your evil just by being born.”

  “Take care you don’t drive me too far,” Gowan warned.

  “I’m safe for now,” Summer said, rising from the sofa. “You don’t dare touch me after that foolish attack, and once everyone knows I’m the real heir to Glenstal you won’t dare to lay a hand on me.”

  “You won’t be safe forever.” Gowan was chafing under the knowledge that he was cornered. “I stil
l hold the power to give or deny life to your child.”

  “But I shall discover a way to defeat you before he’s born,” Summer stated coldly, turning on him with a look of such hatred that Gowan was silenced. “You have given me the one thing I lacked: confidence. I shall beat you, Gowan McConnel, I swear it. I shall bring you to a ruin so shattering that you will never have the power to harm my child.” She then turned and swept from the room, allowing him no chance to respond.

  Chapter 40

  Impatient at being confined, Brent rose from his chair and stared out the porthole. “The storm is just about over.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking of going on deck.” Smith looked worried. “The wet and cold will make you sick again.”

  “If you tell me one more time how the four of you toiled to make sure I didn’t die, I’ll throw you into the wet and cold,” Brent threatened. Doing what good sense told him would speed his recovery had him completely out of temper. “I still haven’t forgiven you for keeping me in that bed an extra month.”

  “It was just long enough for you to be able to get about on your own,” Smith said. “I was certain you’d head for Scotland the moment you were conscious, even though you knew you’d never make it.”

  “And now you’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Brent grumbled. “You actually enjoyed being able to make me do exactly as you said.”

  “It was an experience I never expected to have,” admitted Smith, a trace of a smile on his lips, “but on the whole I’m pleased that it’s over. You were a very difficult patient.”

  “And you’re an impudent dog.” Brent roughly disguised his affection for the man to whom he owed his life. He had been enraged when his mind had cleared and he’d found out what had happened to him, so he had continually abused Smith even though he knew the man was acting in his best interest. The constant verbal persecution kept his mind off what was really worrying him: what had happened to Summer?

  Reason told him that she was probably safe, but he could not be sure. And his anger over imagining the earl was forcing Summer to accept his caresses paled before his worry over what Gowan would do when he learned she was carrying his child; Gowan’s hatred was virulent and longlasting. Brent stared out the window again, a feeling of helplessness stirring rage in his heart. He wouldn’t let himself think about those fears now, but Gowan would pay with his blood if he harmed either Summer or the child. Brent swore that oath anew each day.

  Chapter 41

  “Don’t forget to tell Wigmore to pack the medicine for the Claxton child. She’s not getting any better.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep jaunting all over looking after sick people,” Bridgit said disapprovingly. “I’m worried to death you’ll catch something in one of those dirty cottages.”

  “I’ve never felt better in my life. If I didn’t fear running into the earl, I wouldn’t spend a waking minute in this apartment.”

  Wigmore entered the room on silent feet.

  “I beg your pardon, milady, but a man who claims to be your parent has arrived and wishes to see you.”

  “That can’t be. My father’s in the Indies.”

  “So I thought, but this gentleman claims to have just arrived from the Indies. He also seems to be in possession of a great quantity of information about you.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “I would not like to be disrespectful to your father, milady, but unless I’m mistaken, he has been drinking too liberally for this hour of the day.”

  “If it’s Charles Ashton, he drinks too heavily for any hour of the day.” Summer rose. “I suppose I must go down.”

  Ashton was pouring himself a liberal drink when Summer entered the salon. He turned and surveyed her swollen belly through bleary eyes. “My God, you didn’t wait long.”

  “What are you doing here?” Summer inquired coldly.

  “That’s not a very warm greeting for your father,” he said. “How about a welcoming kiss?”

  “You’re not my father, as you were at pains to point out just before you sold me.”

  “I was angry then, worn down with worry.” Summer’s expression didn’t change, so he went on. “You’re not going to hold that against me, are you? I was just upset.”

  “You’re always upset, and when you’re upset you drink too much.”

  “I’ve reformed. I’ve decided to make a complete change in my life.”

  “You can start by putting down that glass. Or is that one of your exceptions?” Ashton looked hurt, but Summer’s eyes didn’t soften. “Have you given up gambling as well?”

  “Absolutely. I have sworn never to pick up a card again, not even in a friendly game.”

  They stared at each other like two strangers.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down? Don’t you even want to know why I’m here?”

  Summer motioned him to take a seat. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve come to visit my daughter, to see how she’s getting along with her new husband.”

  “Have you sold the plantation? Is that why you’ve come? You must have left before the planting season.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said testily. “I can’t sell the damned hellhole. I can’t even raise a penny on it.”

  “What happened? Did you lose it in a card game?”

  “Your grandfather cheated me, he and your mother.”

  “You got half. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  “I didn’t get anything,” he complained, aggrieved, and then drained off the rest of the glass. “The whole thing belongs to you, every stick of furniture and stalk of cane. I don’t get a penny.” He poured himself out another glass and swallowed half of it. “Do you know what those thieving bankers told me when I went to see them?”

  “No,” she said patiently.

  “They told me I couldn’t have any of the money unless I stayed on the plantation and worked it. They said if they had to pay an overseer, everything would go to you. I told them they could have the bloody plantation and everything on it. I was tired of the never-ending heat and the damned hurricanes that scare a man half out of his wits.”

  “You were never sober during a hurricane.”

  “Did you expect me to get through one of those howling, screeching monsters without a few drinks?” Ashton asked with injured air.

  “As I recall, it usually took several bottles.”

  “Just like your mother, always counting everything. Now you made me forget what I was saying. Oh, I told those bloodsucking swine that I was going to see my daughter. Told them you’d take care of me.”

  “But you’re not my father, and you can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? You’ve got plenty of room.”

  “I’d have to double the amount of spirits we keep in the house.”

  “You can’t let the little tyke you’re carrying come into the world without a grandfather.”

  “You aren’t his grandfather either.”

  “Well you can’t tell him you’re a bastard, can you? Your husband wouldn’t like that very much.”

  “My husband knows who my father is.”

  “You weren’t fool enough to tell him a thing like that?”

  “No, he told me.”

  “You’re lying! He couldn’t have known. He never would have paid a pound for you.”

  “That’s the only reason he paid anything at all. I’m Frederick Boyleston’s legitimate daughter, and this little tyke will be his grandson. Mother was married when she eloped.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ashton said, his drink suspended halfway to his mouth.

  “Maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you the earl only married me to keep control of these estates.”

  “Damn!” Ashton slammed his glass down onto the table. “I could have gotten at least twenty thousand instead of a measly ten.”

  “That measly ten ought to keep you for the rest of your life.”

  “It can’t. It’s gone.”


  “All of it? Not even you could have gambled away ten thousand pounds in less than a year.”

  “There wasn’t ten thousand left by the time I paid Carter. I ended up with a little over two, and that doesn’t last long when you’re in the middle of the worst run of luck that ever cursed a man.”

  “So you’re out of funds.”

  “I’ve got less than twenty pounds.”

  “And you expect to live at rack and manger here?”

  “It’s not much to ask, seeing as how I took care of you for all those years.”

  “But you’re not worth much, are you? I certainly won’t be able to sell you for ten thousand pounds after I’ve put up with you for nineteen years.”

  “You’re more like your mother every day.” Ashton suddenly dropped any pretense of fatherly feeling. “Hard as nails and not an ounce of forgiveness in you.”

  “After what you did to me, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “I’ll wait for the earl. You may be the mistress here, but I’ll wait to hear what he has to say.”

  “And just what is it you would like to have me say?” The unexpected sound of Gowan’s voice startled Ashton into spilling wine down the front of his coat.

  “Now see what you’ve made me do?” he sputtered, quite put out. “You ought to cure yourself of the habit of sneaking up behind people. It gave me a nasty turn. I’ve quite ruined this coat.”

  “I’m sure it can be replaced.” Gowan’s cold eyes regarded him evenly.

  “That’s easy for you to say, rich as you are, but I don’t have a pocketful of gold pieces.”

  “As I recall, I gave you enough to fill even the most commodious pocket.”

  “Nothing lasts forever, especially money,” Ashton declared cynically. “In fact, it’s the first thing to go.”

  “I take it from the complaining note in your voice that a want of gold is the reason for your visit.”

  Ashton was pleased by Gowan’s quick understanding, but he would have preferred that the earl had phrased it differently.

  “I came to see how my daughter was doing in her new home, and to make sure you were treating her right.”

 

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