Bound By The Heart

by Canham, Marsha

  "Glasse?" Wade arched an eyebrow. "The name is not familiar to me."

  "No reason why it should be," Glasse said easily. "My dealings were more with your father, when he was the king's exchequer."

  A shadow passed across Wade's eyes, gone with the next blink.

  "You must have me confused with someone else, sir," Wade said with a polite smile. "My family were Virginia farmers whose only dealings with the king involved chasing his soldiers off our land thirty-odd years ago. Now, if you will excuse us, I see we are holding up the guests. Gentlemen—" he touched a finger to his brow and moved on.

  Summer watched the handsome couple walk away. Mrs. Teague glided as if on a cushion of air, impervious to the stares and whispers that followed in their wake. She clung possessively to Wade's arm and he, in turn, bowed his ear to her lips, laughed and nodded, then gently kissed her cheek.

  "Well, my dear, that was a fair performance," Bennett said. "Not perfect by any measure, but passable."

  Summer rounded on her husband. "You truly surprise me, Bennett. Each time I think you have stooped as low as you possibly can, you prove me wrong."

  "Whereas you are as predictable as the trade winds, my pet. Always stormy, always going against the tide." He glanced at Wade and his companion. "He seems to have moved on rather spectacularly, I must say. You disapprove of Mrs. Teague?"

  "I have no opinion one way or another," she said coldly.

  He chuckled. "Yes, I can see that by the spot of blood on your lip." He turned to Glasse. "Have the arrangements all been taken care of?"

  "Everything is as it should be." The oily little man bowed stiffly to Summer and to Sir Lionel. "If you will excuse me now, urgent business calls me away."

  "What business?" Summer asked, watching Glasse slither away into the crowd. "What other treachery have you planned for this evening?"

  "Treachery?" Bennett feigned offence. "At the Governor's Ball? Come now, Summer, you are allowing your overly fertile imagination to run rampant again. What possible treachery could we arrange? The man is a neutral, his ship is anchored peacefully in the harbor under no threat from us."

  "That is not what your Mr. Glasse implied."

  He took her arm in a firm grip and led her out onto the dance floor, joining other couples as the opening reel was announced. While they waited for the first chords of music to begin, Bennett pressed his lips to her ear. "I do not know what Glasse told you, and frankly I don't care. You will, however, hold your own council, madam. Smile and play the role of pretty wife and perhaps...just perhaps you and your daughter will emerge from this whole sordid affair unblemished."

  "Sarah? What does Sarah have to do with any of this?"

  "Nothing at all...if you behave yourself. Conversely, if you do anything to cause further embarrassment to me, she could grow up to be the most celebrated bastard in town."

  Summer's heart ground to a standstill. Her eyes widened and his arm had to circle her waist to prompt her into taking the first intricate steps of the dance.

  "Did you really think I would not discover the truth?"

  "Bennett, I—"

  "Tut, tut," he cautioned as his hand squeezed hers. "It will do you no good to lie at this stage, and frankly, I am beyond giving a damn. If it becomes common knowledge, however, it only makes you the whore and me the injured, lovesick husband willing to forgive the errant wife, etcetera, etcetera.

  "We are, after all, civilized adults," he continued, leading her gently around the dance floor, smiling as if he hadn't a care in the world. "You need something from me, and I need something from you. Surely we can arrive at an amicable arrangement that will suit us both."

  "Arrangement?"

  He laughed and drew several knowing glances from other guests. They were the perfect couple, dancing and enjoying each other's presence.

  When the steps brought them together again, he chuckled. "You needn't look so horrified, my pet. Your body has long since ceased to interest me. I have found, over the past months, that there are an astonishing number of willing participants in the world; greedy, eager little bitches who have nothing more important on their minds than finding new ways to please me. Ways you never would...or could."

  Summer turned her face away, feeling the revulsion wash through her in cold waves.

  "No, my dear. What I want from you is precisely what you are giving me here tonight. I want a beautiful, gracious wife on my arm, a charming hostess at my dinner table. In exchange I will be the perfectly charming, gracious husband. I will even accept the responsibility of being the father of your bastard." This last was said, accompanied by an elegantly flamboyant bow that was part of the dance. "As to your past association with Wade, it should be forgotten and never mentioned again. Should you break that rule, for any reason, should you...for example...ride out in the middle of the night to a clandestine meeting on the dark streets of Bridgetown—" he waited for her startled gaze to lift to his— "I shall declare the child a bastard. I will disown her publicly, smear your father's good name with an ugly divorce, and do my damnedest to bring ruin down upon your entire family."

  He reached out, as the music stopped to happy applause, and tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear. "Do we understand each other, my dear?"

  Summer could only stare at him with loathing, knowing he had left her little choice. He would do as he threatened and take pleasure in seeing her and her family humiliated beyond salvation. She had no recourse but to accept the fact that he would use Sarah's future as leverage.

  "My dear?"

  She shivered, despite the heat of the crowded dance floor, and felt the jaws of the steely trap snapping shut.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Summer smiled her way through the rest of the evening somehow, conscious of Bennett watching her every move. Terrified of the smallest gesture being misread, she went out of her way to avoid all contact, visual or otherwise, with Morgan Wade.

  He did not lack for attention. He proved to be an accomplished dancer, and when he was not with Mrs. Teague, he had ample partners to choose from. Even Admiral Stonekipper's daughter caused her mother to faint when she accepted a dance from the bold privateer. Hardly anyone passed a word in conversation without lowering lashes and voices and speaking about him from behind raised hands. He was pronounced to be by far the most handsome man present...the broadest across the shoulders...the finest tailored...the most outrageous...the most charming...

  The list of his attributes grew until Summer's head ached and her temples pounded from the tension of ignoring him.

  To her utter relief, Wade and his companion left shortly after midnight. Summer managed to carry on for two more hours until the baccarat and backgammon tables were set up in the gaming rooms. It was the time for lovers to steal away unnoticed, for chaperones to usher the younger charges home, and for the serious gamblers in the crowd to settle down to cigars and brandy. No one paid heed to Summer as she bid her goodnights and headed wearily up the stairs. The party would go on well into the morning, and the noise followed her all the way into the west wing of the house, drifting hollowly up and down the empty hallway.

  She stopped first in Sarah's room, holding up a hand to the nurse as she tip-toed over to the cradle. The baby was sleeping soundly; her thumb was jammed determinedly into the pink mouth and was being fretted with tiny, quivering suckles.

  Summer smiled and touched her lips to the down-covered head.

  Nothing will ever hurt you, she promised silently. Nothing and no one, regardless of what happens to me or what I must endure.

  She walked slowly through the adjoining dressing room to her own bedroom. She stood at the open window for a time, watching the stray couples strolling along the pathways and around the fountain. The night air was cool where it brushed her cheeks, helping to ease some of the burning fatigue. Her fingers were clumsy and wooden as she began pulling the long hairpins out of her curls, releasing them to tumble around her shoulders. She unfastened the clasp of the emerald necklace a
nd let the chain trickle through her fingers as she set it on the window seat. She removed the jeweled earrings she wore and the delicate filigreed bracelets. Returning to the dressing room, she closed the door to the nursery and turned the lamp higher while she stripped out of her gown and underpinnings, scrubbed her face clean, and pulled a soft white nightdress over her head.

  All of her motions were done by rote. She did not want to think about anything; she wanted only to splash the water, run the brush through her hair, crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years.

  Sighing, she doused the lamp and returned to her bedroom. She was still dragging the brush through her hair when she stepped into the wide beam of moonlight streaming through the window. Her hand froze mid-stroke and her skin prickled with alarm. The french doors, which had been closed when she first entered the room, were now open and the candle that had been burning on the night table was extinguished, trailing a thin finger of smoke across the beam of moonlight.

  "Bennett...?"

  She turned, and the brush fell to the floor.

  Morgan Wade was seated in the brocade wing chair, his coat unbuttoned, his silk cravat loosened and the ends trailing down over the stark whiteness of his shirt.

  "You!" she gasped. "How did you get in?"

  "The door was unlocked."

  "But...what are you doing here?"

  "I thought perhaps you could tell me." He reached to an inside pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He was only partially lit by the moonlight, but she recognized the personalized writing paper he produced. It was pale blue with a delicate scroll of silver around the edges, monogrammed with the initials SW in the upper right corner.

  She raised her eyes to his. "I don't understand."

  Wade arched an eyebrow and quoted it without looking at the sheet. "Morgan, I must see you as soon as possible. Urgent. Please come. Summer."

  She shook her head, still not comprehending. "I did not write that. I did not send you any note."

  "I realized that as soon as I saw the look on your face downstairs." He returned the folded sheet to his pocket. "Which leaves some interesting alternatives."

  Summer glanced nervously at the door. "You mustn't be found here. My husband—"

  "Your husband is thoroughly entrenched at the backgammon tables. He is a devout gambler, so I am told, and with the amount of gold at stake down there, I doubt very much whether he will leave before he collects his fair share. Besides—" the dark eyes dropped lower, lingering on the moonlit curves of her body— "he saw me leave several hours ago and would assume I was being entertained elsewhere."

  Summer's cheeks flushed a violent red. "How dare you force your way into my bedchamber. This is not your ship, Captain Wade, you cannot come and go as you please."

  "By the frosty shoulder you kept turned to me, it was obvious you did not want to be seen talking to me downstairs."

  "Nor do I want to talk to you here. Will you please leave now. Go to your...Mrs. Teague. I have no doubt you would find the reception warmer there."

  "Is that what has your feathers all in a ruffle?" He grinned. "Arianna Teague?"

  Summer flushed again. "Nothing about you or your Mrs. Teague ruffles me, Captain."

  "I am glad to hear it. Arianna is lovely to look at, but she finds it difficult to string too many words together at one time. Roarke merely thought it prudent for me to have a suitable companion on my arm tonight."

  "Roarke thought?"

  "Aye. He thought I might need a distraction to keep both my temper and my manners in check. As usual, perceptive bastard that he is, he was right."

  "You cannot stay here," she said through clenched teeth. "I did not speak to you earlier because I had nothing to say. And contrary to what you may think, Bennett will not remain at the tables much longer after my departure."

  "The loving husband, is he?"

  Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "I fail to see what business it is of yours."

  "I noticed how loving and attentive he was all evening. You would be flattered to know how many good people made it a point to tell me how happy you and your husband are together; what a loving couple you are; what a dedicated husband and doting father he is. It warmed me all over."

  Summer's breath backed up in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond to his sarcasm, to defend Bennett and order Wade out of her life once and for all...but nothing came out. Her belly was churning and her legs were trembling. Her skin was hot and cold at the same time and where the nightdress brushed against bare flesh, it had the same effect as sandpaper against sensitive nerve endings.

  He was smiling as if he could, indeed, hear the pounding of her heart within her chest.

  "Summer," he murmured. "The name suits you. I often wondered...but then I suppose it was my own fault, for I never asked. Names have a way of lending things a certain permanence which is, in my line of business, not always an option." He laughed softly and the sound quivered along Summer's spine. "I also had the devil of a time trying to figure out why someone would date the note instead of signing it—until Roarke enlightened me, that is."

  "Please." Summer closed her eyes. "Please will you leave? I have already told you I did not send the note. I have nothing to say to you. And so far you have said nothing I wish to hear."

  "Then what are you afraid of?"

  She opened her eyes, startled to see he was not in the chair but standing just on the edge of the moonlight. "I am not afraid."

  "No?"

  "No," she whispered. "I have stopped being afraid of a great many things lately."

  "Then it must be that pride of yours making you tremble so."

  "Or anger."

  "Or anger," he conceded with a smile. "Very well, Mrs. Winfield, you win. I will leave. Perhaps you might be so kind as to answer a few questions first? Surely under the circumstances—" he patted the pocket where he had replaced the note— "you cannot deny me that much."

  Summer exhaled softly. "I do not know why you were invited here tonight. I do not know whose idea it was. I did not know a thing about it until the moment you walked through the door."

  "That was painfully obvious," he nodded and moved a step closer.

  "As for the note—"

  "The note did what it was supposed to do: It made certain I would come tonight. It also earned Roarke a dressing-down he won't soon forget."

  Summer moistened her lips. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

  "Not quite. What can you tell me about Farley Glasse?"

  "Other than he is a horrid little man and I avoid him as much as possible, not much. He seems to have some idea of proving you to be a titled Englishman." She saw his eyes narrow as he moved yet another step closer. "He is determined to have you arrested and face charges of treason against the crown...and murder."

  "Murder?"

  "He probably has men watching you, and if they followed you here, or if they see you leaving my room—"

  "No one will see me. His watchdogs have already been led off on a merry chase."

  "You knew about them?"

  Wade chuckled dryly. "The harbor is so thick with spies a man has difficulty pushing through the crowds. Your husband and Glasse have had my ship and my men under constant surveillance since we dropped anchor. They even managed to discover which tavern my men prefer and replaced the barmaid with a sloe-eyed minx who has their eyes rolling to the backs of their heads. Luckily they fear me more than they admire big bosoms."

  "I should think you would be the one worried, in that case, if they have you watched so closely."

  "There is no reason to fear something you already know is there. It is the unknown that takes a man by surprise. For instance: Who is Sarah's father?"

  Summer's hand flew to her throat. "I don't...wh-what?"

  "I told you, your guests were extremely talkative. You were married three weeks after Stuart returned you. The child was born less than the allotted time after...a case of either being several weeks early...or exactly on time." />
  "Bennett Winfield is my husband," she said on a tight breath. "He was here at Sarah's birth. H-he named her after his mother."

  "I'm told she has big blue eyes."

  "Bennett's eyes are blue."

  "And that she has dark hair."

  She shook her head and took a halting step away from him. "No. She is nothing to you. I was nothing to you. Nothing but a...a diversion, a pleasant way to pass a few warm nights."

  "Pleasant, I grant you, but the only thing you managed to divert was my peace of mind for the next few months," he murmured. "Mind you, had you admitted to being Sir Lionel's daughter at the outset, you might have arrived home with your virginity intact and I might have been able to chase you out of my thoughts. Although," he paused and shook his head, "I think not. We were spark and tinder from the outset...and for those three days and nights, nothing burned quite so brightly."

  "You sent me away. You didn't care what happened to me then. Why should you care now?"

  Wade moved closer, stepping into the full stream of moonlight. "But I did care. More than I should have, and that was why I had to send you away. I am also admitting I made a damned stupid mistake. It isn't the first one I've made in my life, but it was possibly one of the worst. And when I received your note...I thought perhaps...you felt the same way."

  She shook her head and backed up another step, but the wall was behind her and cut off any further retreat. "You thought wrong," she whispered. "The mistake was made on Bounty Key. A foolish, dreadful, sinful mistake."

  "If you tell me it's too late, I'll go. If you tell me the child is not mine and if you tell me that you love your husband, you will never have to see me again."

  "I mustn't see you again." Something stirred against her skin and she realized he had reached his hand out and was shifting a long blonde curl back off her shoulder. His other hand followed, sliding up her arm to her shoulders...up to cradle her chin and force her to tip her head up to meet his eyes.

  "Who is the father of your child?"