Rebel Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  “Have you had any further word of survivors, Alex? Sometimes there—”

  “They are dead, my lady, all of them. One cannot run aground on an iceberg and swim to safety. Now, if you will excuse me . . .” He rudely pushed around her and stalked toward the liquor cabinet.

  Alyson drifted into his path before he could reach his goal, her pale hand lifting to his chest, her misty eyes worried. “Alex, you cannot blame yourself. The captain chose his route wrongly. Sit down and let one of the maids bring you some warm punch.”

  Alex wrenched her wrist away. “Tell me you’ve read a dead man’s mind to reach that conclusion, Cousin. Now, out of my way. I have more work to do, and the lazy maids we have about here haven’t restocked my brandy.”

  Rory materialized at Alyson’s side, holding out a snifter of his favorite drink. “Have this and sit down, Hampton. You cannot bring back the dead by working yourself to your own grave.”

  “By damn, will you get out of my way! Next time, I’ll send someone to fetch the damned bottle for me.” Flinging open the cabinet, Alex removed a newly filled decanter of brandy, and without looking at anyone, strode out of the room.

  The silence that follows a tempest filled the room. The roar and the thunder echoed in the distance as some unfortunate servant entered Alex’s path. Evelyn felt her aunt and cousin look away from her in embarrassment, but more than that, she felt the sympathy and curiosity in other eyes as they awaited her reaction. She was not accountable for Alex’s behavior, but they seemed to be waiting for her to do something. She clasped her hands and stared at them. How could she tell them that she was the last person in the world to persuade her husband to reason?

  The chatter slowly returned. Frances agreed to play the spinet. Tea was brought in. Rory made some excuse and departed, but Alyson took a seat beside Evelyn. She did not pretend to drink her tea but stared in the direction of the draped windows.

  “At least I am not afraid of him anymore.” She offered without any prelude or explanation. “His vile temper is dangerous, but usually only to himself. After our first child was born, Rory and Alex and all the men had a drinking contest. I could not blame them. That was a terrible time, and they deserved a night of oblivion, but Alex was still awake when all else had fallen under the table. He kept shouting for more, but the maids were too frightened to bring it to him. The house was practically barren of food and drink, and he nearly demolished several cabinets before he found what he sought, and by that time his hands were bleeding so profusely he could scarce lift the bottle. There is a madness in him sometimes that he does not recognize. I hope you do not mind, but Rory has told me of the child he lost. I think that night, with the birth of my child, Alex was reminded of what he preferred to forget.”

  Evelyn squeezed her nails into her palms. She knew the madness of which Alyson spoke, knew the anger inside Alex ate at him, but he had shut her out. “He will not listen to me,” she replied to Alyson’s expectant silence.

  “It is not words he needs, Evelyn. It is love. He does not think he’s deserving of love. Did you know that his father died when Alex was but three? His mother took him away from his rightful family, from the men who might have taught him a man’s world, because she hated his father. James Hampton was an undisciplined rake, but most of all, he was a drunkard. He died of a broken neck after making a drunken wager to race to Yorkminster. Despite his mother’s interference, Alex spent many years trying to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  There was only sad understanding in Alyson’s voice. Evelyn clenched her hands and mourned those wasted years. His father had died of drink. There was a good chance Alex might do the same if he were left alone long enough to discover there is no oblivion in a bottle. He needs love, Alyson said. Could she be right? Every time Evelyn got close to Alex, he pulled away, but if just once she could break through that wall and hang on . . .

  Without a word to Alyson, indeed, with little recognition that any others were in the room, Evelyn rose to follow her husband. If she thought about it, she would realize this was madness, so she stopped thinking and acted on instinct. Someone had to dissolve this barrier between them if they were to have a true marriage. She had forgotten her objections to marrying. Perhaps they had been valid once. Perhaps they still were. But what mattered most was the lonely man upstairs and her love for him.

  She had to believe that. Only the strength of her love could carry her into the lion’s den. In her own chambers, Evelyn removed her clothing. If she had only one way to reach Alex, she would use it. Acres of velvet and silk would only hamper her purpose.

  In one of the many drawers of her armoire she found the lovely lace-and-lawn nightgown that Deirdre had given her for Christmas. It was an extravagant confection unlike anything she had ever owned. The gossamer softness slid over her skin like cool water. Without corsets or garters or petticoats, she felt free and unfettered. Lace dripped from elbow-length sleeve to wrist. The wide ruff of lace at her throat lifted with every breath, revealing the valley between her breasts. The material was nearly transparent.

  Taking the pins out of her hair, Evelyn brushed it to a satin gleam. She was grateful she had given her maid the day off. She didn’t want anybody to know the seduction she embarked upon. Or the rejection she would almost certainly suffer.

  She set the brush aside and stared at the door to Alex’s dressing room. It wouldn’t hurt to go into his dressing room. If he were there, she could always ask to borrow something.

  She turned the knob and let herself in. The room was empty and unlit, and she had to cross it with only a candle and memory to guide her. Perhaps she should have brought a lamp, but she distrusted throwing any more light on what she was about to do.

  Her fingers hesitated over the latch to Alex’s chamber. Once open, there would be no turning back. She would seal her future. The choice was hers, and in his own enigmatic way, Alex had given it to her.

  It was that realization that made her turn the knob until it clicked, signaling her presence to anyone on the far side. Still, he did not call to her or give any sign that she was wanted. Setting her lips, Evelyn pushed the door inward. She was damned tired of being shut out of his life. He had promised they would talk. So they would talk. Now.

  The room was cold and dark, lacking even a fire. She hesitated, trying to remember the furniture arrangement. The huge bed she recalled from her one visit should be directly in the center of the far wall across from the door. With all the lights out, surely he had retired to bed. He couldn’t work in the dark.

  For a brief moment Evelyn feared Alex had not even returned to his room. Perhaps he had gone to the library, or worse yet, to some maid’s room. What had made her think he would come here?

  Because this was his home. This was where Alex would retreat when he was hurting. Evelyn raised her candle and approached the bed. She heard a sharp intake of breath and almost closed her eyes in relief.

  “Have you come to strangle me in my sleep? If so, I warn you that sleep eludes me. You will have to try poison.”

  She could see his wide shoulders rise up from the pillows. A glass clinked as he set it aside. From what she could tell as her eyes adjusted, Alex had discarded his coat but no more.

  “You are doing a fair job of poisoning yourself, sir. I need not do it for you.” Bravely, or foolishly, Evelyn set the candle down on the table and perched upon the edge of the mattress near his hip.

  As she had hoped, Alex reached for her. His hand caught in her hair and pulled her backward until she leaned against his shoulder. His fingers found her throat, and he caressed the bare flesh there. “Have you come as the sacrificial virgin, then? Did the others send you up to appease the angry gods?”

  “That would be like sending my soul to the devil. Your family is too considerate for that.” Evelyn pulled her legs up to the bed and curled beside him. Her toes were frozen, but Alex’s fingers were skillfully increasing the heat as they skimmed over her collarbone and slid to the neck of her bodice.
Daringly she raised her hand to his chest and found his shirt partially open. Her fingers caressed his warmth. When he tensed beneath her touch, she began unfastening the rest of his shirt.

  “So you’re sending yourself to the devil. Why?” Alex asked almost threateningly.

  Again she hesitated, but the time for denials was gone. Drawing her hand up his chest to his neck, curling her fingers about his nape, Evelyn drew him down to her. “Because I love you,” she whispered—before his lips descended to cover hers.

  Alex’s arms closed around her, pulling her hard against him as his mouth plundered hers. She felt his shudder as she circled his shoulders, pressed her breasts against his chest, and opened her kisses to him.

  Alex twisted to push her back against the pillows. “Tell me you want me, Evelyn. That’s something I can understand. Lie to me if you must, but say you’ll never leave me.”

  He still wouldn’t accept her love, but this time she wouldn’t back away. “I won’t lie to you,” Evelyn promised. “I’ll never leave you because I love you. Alex, couldn’t you love me just a little?”

  Evelyn felt his groan as much as heard it. His heavy weight shifted over her, pressing her into the mattress. Her fingers sought his face, encountering tears streaming down his rough cheeks. With a distraught cry of love and anguish, she crushed him to her. Their lips met in promises their voices could not offer.

  ***

  Evelyn’s fragile gown gave way beneath Alex’s haste. She moaned as he played her flesh, rousing the peaks to reveal she suffered the same aching hunger as he. Alex suckled and she arched against him, giving her body as a gift. He took it with a hunger that came from the soul.

  He wasted no precious minutes on undressing. Alex yanked the remains of Evelyn’s gown above her hips. Finding her ready, he unfastened his breeches and took what she offered before she had time to think better of it. He plunged deeply, satisfyingly, forcing Evelyn to take all of him before realizing she encouraged instead of fought him. That realization was an aphrodisiac to his senses, and he lost all control in the welcoming softness sheathing him.

  When she came as quickly as he, Alex knew there had been no others for her, as there had been none for him. When he’d discovered no desire to seek out other available women, he had thought himself half-dead. Now he knew he was fully alive only in his wife’s arms. He was not particularly grateful for that knowledge, but relief surged through him as he rolled over with Evelyn snuggled in his arms.

  “You are as mad as Alyson,” he whispered wonderingly against her hair.

  “Everyone should be as mad as Alyson,” Evelyn agreed sleepily. “Are you sorry that you are shackled to a madwoman?”

  Alex stayed silent for a moment, kissing her brow and exploring her breasts with purpose. “I was only sorry that I gave you no choice. I am not sorry that you chose to stay.”

  Such cold, formal words. Evelyn pressed a hand to Alex’s chest and pushed him back into the pillows. Leaning over him, she began kissing every inch of skin that she could reach. His tears had dissipated, but she tasted their salty path with her tongue, wondering that a man as cynical as Alex could still have the compassion to cry. Between kisses, she said, “You are an insufferable prig, Alex Hampton. I think I liked you better in Boston.”

  Alex caught the hem of her gown and finished pulling it off, exposing the nakedness of her back and buttocks to the cold air. When she gasped and tried to cover herself, he wrapped his arm about her waist and flung the gown aside. “I’ll do better next time, tyrant, and even better the time after that. And all the times in all the nights and days to come. You have bound yourself to a harsh taskmaster, my dear.”

  Heat flooded through her at his seductive promises. Hours they would have together. Hours when they could teach each other the ways of love. He might have more experience, but she could teach him love.

  Feeling his maleness rise against her again, Evelyn slid her hands into his unfastened breeches and shoved the cloth downward. The soft, downy hair that covered him startled her. The hard narrowness of his hips and buttocks was an erotic sensation, but she managed to remove the garment with only a little help. When he was freed from this confinement, Alex lifted her on top of him.

  “If you wish to be brazen, my love, let me show you how. Where were we? At nine hundred and ninety-seven?”

  That was the Alex she knew. Straddling his waist, Evelyn bent to kiss him. Just the feel of flesh against flesh inflamed her senses. She could smell the brandy of his breath as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. His jaw was rough with unshaven beard, but she rubbed her fingers over it anyway. She kissed his eyelids and felt the ripple of muscle beneath her as he reached for her and pulled her down to suckle at her breast.

  She needed his hunger, needed to know he wanted her. It was the fragile line that bound them. Wantonly Evelyn followed his dictates, discovering desires of her own under Alex’s roaming hands. She learned the boldness of her position when he pushed her toward his hips, and she was already open and vulnerable to him.

  When Alex lifted her so he could enter, Evelyn welcomed him with a cry of surprise. She heard him chuckle as she sank deep and discovered her own power in this position. When her inexperienced motions caught fire, he growled deep in his throat and flung her over.

  “Wanton tyrant,” he whispered in her ear as she clasped his neck and arched against him. “You learn too fast.”

  “I will be your equal in all things,” Evelyn gasped as he plunged deeper. “Almost all things,” she admitted as he repeated his action with swift, sure strokes.

  It wasn’t a game any longer. He was part of her, so much a part that she didn’t think they could ever be separated. She clung to his strong arms as he strained to find that final fulfillment that would merge them totally, blend them into one. When it came, it wasn’t blinding stars or noisy rockets but a sweet song and gentle paradise. Their bodies rocked together and the seed of his life poured into her, sealing their bonds. Perhaps physically they might part again, but part of him would always remain with her. To be complete, they would need to be together.

  Chapter 29

  Evelyn woke sometime in the middle of the night when Alex pulled her into his arms again. Lying on his side, he kissed her urgently. Before she was fully awake, he lifted her leg over his hip and eased into her.

  His need incited her to an excitement of her own. They found satisfaction quickly, with a pleasure that had more to do with their mutual joy than the physical joining of their bodies.

  Evelyn murmured a protest when Alex started to move away, and he obligingly remained, stroking her hair, holding her close, pulling the covers around them.

  “I want you in my bed every night. Will you do that? Even if I am not yet home, will you sleep in my bed?” His relaxed satisfaction barely concealed his anxiety.

  “I had never thought to sleep elsewhere.” Evelyn pressed a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. “You’re the one with houses so big you cannot think what to do with the space except create two chambers where there need be only one.”

  Alex smoothed his hand over her flanks. “We’ll make a billiard parlor of the other.”

  Evelyn giggled and they slept again, this time until past dawn.

  ***

  Alex had forbidden the servants to enter his room unless called, and he was paying for his privacy the next morning with the iciness of a dead fire. Hugging his wife’s slender warmth closer, he nuzzled at her ear with his rough chin. Evelyn murmured with pleasure and squirmed closer, her rounded bottom fitting neatly into the curve of his body as he curled around her.

  Alex gently pushed her back against the pillows to chafe her with his bristly kisses. Her eyes opened, and she caught his hair in both hands. “You need a shave,” she informed him.

  Grinning, he eluded her hold and buried his scratchy face against the vulnerable curve of her throat. She squealed and tore at his hair, and they went tumbling through the covers until Evelyn happened to notice the bed they were demo
lishing.

  Pushing him away, she pulled the sheet up to her chin and stared at the hand-carved posters she had last seen in Boston. “Our bed. I thought you had forgotten it. You’ve been sleeping in our bed!”

  Alex laughed, pulling her down into his arms. “You could have been sleeping here too, if you’d wanted. All you had to do was ask. I am eager to please.”

  “The deuce you are!” She pounded the hard bulge of his biceps with her fist, but he didn’t flinch. “You have been an insufferable cad for months. I don’t know why I even speak to you. You don’t deserve so much as the time of day from me.”

  “But you gave me a lot more than that last night,” Alex reminded her wickedly, holding her against him. “Several times, in fact. You must have a strange affinity for insufferable cads.”

  “Only in bed, I assure you,” Evelyn replied with a huff. “Out of bed, I demand explanations and apologies. You have been not only insufferable but also rude and intolerable and cold and arrogant. I demand reparations.”

  “To my holy saint of a wife, I humbly apologize. I was not aware of her affinity for insufferable cads. I intend to make full amends for my neglect by being as insufferable as she can desire. Will that do?” Alex nibbled at her ear.

  “Bah, you are a dolt who will never learn. I am starving. Am I allowed breakfast?”

  Leaning over her, Alex pressed his mouth to hers until her arms circled him. “I’ll feed all your hungers, my love. What kind of breakfast would you like?” he inquired suggestively.

  “You cannot possibly,” Evelyn whispered, half in fear that he would follow through on the promise in his voice. “I am sore in places I did not know existed. Have some mercy on me.”

  Alex kissed her cheek, pushed himself off her and out of bed, and strode in splendid masculine nakedness through the daylight streaming in the windows. “I have decided this house is too antiquated for our needs. We need running water up here, and a tub big enough for two.” He pulled a robe from the armoire. “I’ll be back in a minute.”