by Connie Mason
When she was certain she would die of sweet wanting, he took her fiercely, ardently, driving between her thighs with ever deeper strokes until he freed them both in a burst of ecstasy that left them exhausted.
When Alexa awoke the next morning Adam was gone. And not just from her bed. The dour Hilda informed her that the master had left at daybreak without a word as to his destination or purpose. He was gone for ten days and when he returned gave not the slightest clue to where he had been. During his absence Alexa was guarded by a huge man named Curtis who told her he came from the village not far away. He seemed a simple man, albeit one blindly loyal to his master. It appeared Adam had effectively cut off all avenues of escape and until he released her she was his to do with what he liked.
Following Adam’s return to Penwell Castle he took up where he left off with Alexa, making passionate love to her nightly, most times tenderly. But there were other times he took her roughly, as if to remind her that she was nothing to him but the daughter of the man he hated above all others.
At the end of the first month in Penwell Castle, Alexa asked for her release.
“Not yet, Alexa,” he informed her coldly. “The pleasure your body affords me is still too great for me to let you go. You’ll be sent back, milady, when I tire of you, and not before.” Then he proceeded to make love to her with a tenderness that left Alexa’s mind whirling with confusion.
Afterwards, she dared to ask, “If you hate me so much why do you make love to me with such … caring?” Her face flushed becomingly at her temerity but for some strange reason it was important that she know.
“Don’t mistake my motives. Alexa.” Adam replied sternly. “It’s your father I want to hurt, not you. You’re just the instrument of my revenge. It’s not in my nature to mistreat a woman.
“I tried. Lord knows how I tried to take you callously, without a thought for your feelings. But it went against everything I’ve ever been taught. Not even a whore deserves such treatment. If I prefer to make love to you instead of raping you, you should be grateful and not question my motives.”
“So, I’m no better than a whore!” Alexa said angrily.
“You said that, not me. What I said was …”
“I know what you said and you’re right. I am your whore.”
“Mistress is a better word.”
“It will make little difference to my father.”
“Exactly.” Adam smiled cruelly.
After that encounter Alexa struggled desperately to curb her response to the devastatingly handsome Lord Penwell. But he was an expert in the art of arousal and she could not resist his tender ministrations. In the end Alexa was the one clutching at his broad shoulders, crying out for release. Oh, yes, he was adept and experienced and Alexa considered his lovemaking more devastating than if he had physically abused her.
Sometime during the second month Adam mysteriously disppeared again, staying away nearly two weeks this time. But at least Alexa had gained a concession from him before he left. He had agreed to allow her outside as long as the bumbling Curtis accompanied her. She readily agreed and was given the sailor garb she had worn previously, for it was obvious she couldn’t walk the wild moors clad in the fragile nightclothes Adam insisted she wear.
Alexa spent hours outside, roaming, exploring, enjoying the waning summer days out in the open. One day she came upon the secluded cove where The Gray Ghost had set her ashore. Inexplicably her thoughts flew to the Fox and the one night they had shared. And then a strange thing happened. In her mind the Fox and Adam became one and each tender moment she spent with Fox dimmed and faded into a single image. It was Adam’s face behind the mask but Fox’s hands and lips upon her body.
Ridiculous! she scolded herself, shaking her dark head to clear it of such confusing thoughts. It was only natural that she should confuse the only two men who had ever made love to her. No one could be as gentle and tender as Fox had been with her despite the fact that he was a pirate and enemy of England. Her romantic soul yielded to him, forgave him all, for he was a man around which dreams were spun.
Adam returned but refused to reveal to Alexa where he had been. It was now two months since she had been taken forcibly from her home and still she had no idea when her captivity would end. She couldn’t exactly say she was unhappy. She wasn’t mistreated, she was well-fed, and most of the time had Adam’s stimulating company to keep boredom at bay. During his unexplained absences the well-stocked library sufficed.
The servants were polite, if remote, and Alexa’s long walks along the moors and cliffs helped immeasurably to work, off her pent-up anger and anxiety. And of course there was Adam’s lovemaking. She grew so accustomed to it that she actually missed him when he was gone; his strong arms, warm body, and lips and hands that drove her wild. Alexa often wondered if Adam hadn’t planned it that way. Though she tried, she couldn’t really hate him. What she despised was her growing addiction for the man, Adam Foxworth.
Adam was absent twice during Alexa’s third month at Penwell Castle deep in the wilds of Cornwall. This time when he returned his lovemaking took on a frantic quality and when she sought to question him she encountered a nearly imperceptible clouding of his features. For over two weeks his unleashed passion rose in devouring fury to consume her, as if he were driven by an urgency to prove his mastery over her. Though his eyes often told her he cared for her his lips were still.
Then abruptly one night, without warning or provocation, Adam took her without apparent emotion or any attempt to arouse her, as though she were truly nothing but a means of exacting vengeance as he had so often insisted; a vessel into which he poured out his need. The hands and lips that had always intoxicated her with their tender caresses now denied her any satisfaction. She endured it in silence, never more aware of Adam’s power over her.
Alexa awoke with a vague feeling of dread hanging over her, but blamed it on Adam’s strange behavior the night before. It was almost as if he were trying to tell her something. She pulled on a robe just as Hilda brought in her breakfast tray, but she could only push the food around the plate in a distracted manner. A hard lump formed in her throat, preventing her from swallowing.
The hard, cold facts were that Alexa was faced with a dilemma. She knew little about the workings of the human body but what little she did know all pointed to the fact that she was pregnant. For over a week she had become queasy upon arising and she had not had her woman’s time since arriving at Penwell Castle.
Moreover, her breasts were tender to the touch and appeared to be fuller, the nipples darker. She was torn between telling Adam and remaining silent, certain that it would make little difference to him. In fact, her pregnancy probably would fit into his plans admirably. How fitting that he should be returned to her father not only dishonored but pregnant. How Adam would laugh when he found out! In the end she kept her own counsel.
Fighting off twinges of nausea rumbling through her stomach, Alexa wandered downstairs, wondering if Adam was about or off on another of his mysterious jaunts. On a whim she entered the study, for she rarely sought him out there, and spied him instantly, standing in an outpouring of sunshine as he stared somewhat pensively out the window, Only it wasn’t Adam. Almost immediately Alexa realized her mistake. Their muscular forms were nearly alike but there the similarity ended. The unruly mop of red hair could belong to no one but Mac.
Something must have alerted Mac to Alexa’s presence for he whirled to face her, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily at the sight of her lovely face. He opened his arms wide and Alexa had no compunction about flying into them.
“Oh, Mac,” she sighed, “it’s so good to see you again! When did you arrive! Does Adam know you’re here? Where is he? Not off on one of his mysterious trips, I hope.”
Mac laughed, happy and relieved to see Alexa looking so well. Adam had not lied to him. He had done Alexa no harm. “One question at a time, milady. I arrived last night and I’ve already seen and spoken to Adam early this morning.�
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“Is … is Fox here also?” Alexa couldn’t help but ask.
Mac eyed her curiously. “No, I’m here alone.”
Alexa bit her tongue to keep from inquiring further into Fox’s whereabouts. Instead, she asked, “What are you doing here? Where is Adam?”
“I’m here at Adam’s request. Lady Alexa.” Alexa’s heart rose like a stone in her breast.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” To her dismay, her voice broke slightly and a shadow of alarm touched her face. Every fiber in her body warned her what was coming next and she steeled herself against the impact by sitting in a chair, her thin fingers tensed in her lap.
A look of tired sadness passed over Mac’s features. “Aye, Alexa, he’s gone. I’m to take you back to your father.”
A flash of wild grief ripped through her, and when she lifted her eyes, the pain still lingered. Beneath his breath Mac cursed Adam a hundred times over for hurting this young, innocent girl.
“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Biting her lip she looked away and stirred uneasily in her chair. Her composure was a fragile shell around her and she measured her words carefully. “Of course I want to return home. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Good.” Mac smiled uncertainly, though her brave words did not fool him one bit. He could read in Alexa’s eyes the truth of her feelings for Adam. That damn fool had somehow made Alexa fall in love with him. Mac wondered if Alexa knew the extent of her own feelings for Adam. “How soon can you be ready?”
“I’m ready now.” She shrugged carelessly. What did it matter when she left? “But if Fox isn’t here, how will we leave? By coach?”
“I have a ship, milady. A captured British frigate. Fox has been so active in these waters the past three months that The Gray Ghost is too easily recognized and he dares not venture into London Harbor as he did previously. It was agreed that I should escort you home. I … I renamed my ship. I call it the Lady A,” he said shyly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Alexa smiled warmly. “Of course I don’t mind, Mac. It was thoughtful of you. I’ll be proud to sail aboard my namesake.”
“Er … I hope you have something more suitable to wear, milady. I’m afraid my men would forget their duties if you were to come aboard dressed like that.”
Only then did Alexa give a thought to the inadequacy of her attire. She blushed hotly at the warm look kindling in Mac’s eyes as he swept her thinly clad form from head to toe, liking what he saw. “I … I still have the sailor’s garb Adam gave me. I’ll change immediately.”
Alexa was out of the chair and nearly to the door when she turned to face Mac, asking, “About Adam. He’s with Fox, isn’t he?”
Mac nodded solemnly. “Fox was ordered back to American waters by Captain Jones and Adam went with him. The search for Fox was becoming too heated for the Captain’s liking. As for Adam, it was past time for him to return to his home.”
“What about his inheritance?”
“He never intended to remain long in England. He signed the lands over to a distant cousin, the money and title he kept for various reasons.”
“So this is how it is to end,” Alexa stated with finality. “I’ll never see him again. Did … did he leave a message for me.”
“No, milady, I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, Mac.” Alexa smiled a parody of a smile. “I believe he left his message loud and clear last night.”
Alexa thought of the cold, perfunctory way Adam had made love to her last night, and what he was trying to convey to her. His callous actions revealed to her that she was little more to him than a warm body, that his only interest in her was her close relationship to John Ashley, her father. Through her Adam was finally able to avenge his own father’s death. Now he was free to go on with his life, forgetting Alexa as if she never existed. Little did he know that he was leaving a part of him behind. Already she felt possessed by the child she carried beneath her heart.
Dragging in a deep breath; Alexa controlled her trembling and left the room. Behind her Mac cursed the day he met Adam Foxworth and agreed to his harebrained scheme.
Halfway up the stairs, Alexa froze, every nerve-ending tingling with a new discovery. There was one chance, albeit a remote one, that Fox had fathered her child, not Adam!
5
London 1778
Because of her unorthodox garb Alexa was grateful to Mac for hiring a closed conveyance to take her to her father’s house. Aware of the fact that the London season had just begun. Alexa knew her father would be at their townhouse located on a fashionable square surrounded by a green park. She prayed desperately that her arrival would pass unnoticed for soon enough her name would be on the tongue of every scandalmonger in London.
When they arrived at the gates of the huge two-story mansion. Mac insisted he accompany Alexa to the door, but she quickly disabused him of that notion. “No, Mac,” Alexa shook her dark head. “It’s best for all concerned that you not be seen. I have no idea how my father will react or what he might do.”
“He won’t harm you, will he?” Mac asked anxiously. According to Adam, John Ashley was the devil’s own disciple.”
“I’m his only child, Mac,” Alexa assured him confidently. “He won’t punish me for something over which I had no control.”
Mac was not at all certain about that, but had no recourse but to allow Alexa her own way. “All right, Alexa, you know your father best. But if you should need me for any reason I’ll be staying at the Stag and Horn for two weeks before I leave London.”
“Will … will you be seeing Adam any time soon?” Alexa could not help but ask. She could have bit her tongue once the words were out of her mouth and she turned her face aside before she noticed Mac’s pitying look.
“I don’t think so, Alexa. But if I should do you wish me to convey a message to him?”
“No,” Alexa lied unconvincingly. “The sooner I forget him and get on with my life the better. I’m certain Charles and I will be married once he learns I have returned.”
Her words were spoken so bravely, with such conviction, that Mac felt compelled to place a tender kiss on her forehead. “Be happy, milady.”
There was great sadness in his eyes as he watched Alexa’s small form leave the carriage, and Mac knew he could remain no longer. From the first moment he laid eyes on Alexa he had lost his heart to her. Had he been on the same social level with her he would have offered marriage rather than return her as Adam ordered. But he knew his dreams were impossible. He was but one son among ten offspring of poor Irish immigrants. He could offer Alexa nothing but his love. Better she should marry her Charles and take her rightful place among her peers. Had he known from the beginning how deep his feelings ran for the beautiful Alexa he would never had allowed Adam to carry out his devious plan to avenge his father’s death through the innocent body of Lady Alexa. Friend or not, Mac would have fought Adam to the death rather than allow him to defile Alexa.
Alexa felt her small frame shake violently as she grasped the large brass knocker in trembling fingers. Why should she feel such fear? she asked herself dully. This was her home and her father would no doubt be happy to find her safe and sound. Banging the knocker three times, she stood back to wait.
Within minutes the door was opened to reveal a pleasant-faced older woman dressed in a black dress covered by a voluminous white apron so spotless it dazzled the eyes. Her gray hair was drawn into a neat bun and her dark eyes viewed the bedraggled figure standing on the doorstep with compassion.
“Beggars are fed at the back door,” she said not unkindly as she started to close the door.
“Maddy, wait, it’s me!” Alexa cried, dismay clouding her perfect features. “I’ve come home!”
The housekeeper recognized her mistress the moment she heard Alexa’s voice. “Oh, my lady Alexa!” she cried, throwing her apron over her head, “you’ve come home!”
Alexa stepped inside and shut the door behind her, then moved
to take the sobbing Maddy in her arms. Maddy had been their housekeeper for as long as Alexa could remember and the closest thing she had to a mother. Maddy had bestowed love and understanding freely on the motherless child when Alexa’s father was too busy to care.
“I’m home, Maddy,” Alexa crooned consolingly. “Don’t carry on so. I’ve not been harmed.”
“But the note, milady! The note your father received said you were … were …”
“We’ll talk about it later, Maddy,” Alexa said, fully cognizant of Adam’s cruelty. His note to her father must have been explicit in revealing his intentions toward Alexa. “I need to talk to my father first. Is he home?”
John Ashley stood at the top of the stairs, thoroughly annoyed at having his work disturbed by loud voices. Still handsome and trim at forty-five, he frequently displayed a raging temper and mean streak that kept the servants terrified. To Alexa, he rarely showed this side of his nature, but with his cohorts he earned the reputation of being a man easily aroused to vindictive acts when crossed. He was invaluable to King George for he could be counted upon to deal swiftly and ruthlessly with enemies of his country and his king. No compassion existed in his stalwart body.
With the possible exception of his daughter, John Ashley exhibited strong feelings for nothing or no one. At least that had been so for the past eighteen years. And had Alexa not been such a loving and dutiful daughter, his disposition would have been entirely different. After he had killed his wife’s lover he watched carefully throughout the years for some manifestation of his wife’s unfaithful nature in her small daughter. But thankfully the child had grown up in her father’s shadow exhibiting no sign that she would develop into the wanton her mother had become. Until now, that is.