Across Captive Seas

by Michele du Barry

  “I just thought of it tonight! I knew she was due back, but when I looked in the locket and there was Scott and the ship, side by side—I was foolish not to have thought of it before! This means that I will be there months sooner.”

  “It’s a hazardous voyage.”

  “I know all the dangers, but I must go! I would go anywhere, do anything to be with Scott again!”

  Owen’s gaze was wistful. What a fortunate man Scott Harrington was to have a wife like Angela. A woman whose love was so compelling she would face any danger, overcome every obstacle to travel to the other side of the world and be with her man. If only his love had been as strong.

  “You are thinking of her.”

  “I can’t deny it; I was wishing she had a little of your courage. Just a drop would have done, but it’s no use supposing. Beth is dead and gone and I have only myself to blame. If I had been like your husband I would have carried Beth off on her wedding day the way Lord Harrington captured you.”

  “But even then we didn’t live happily ever after. Does anyone? I think it only happens in children’s stories!”

  “Angela?” A sleep-befuddled Jane stood in the doorway taking in their tête-à-tête.

  Owen got to his feet staring; he knew it was bad form but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Always before when they met she had been demurely dressed and though she liked to chatter, he often wondered what she was trying to hide beneath her cheerful demeanor. He had thought of Jane as rather prim, but not now.

  Jane wore a rust-colored velvet robe belted loosely at the waist. She obviously thought Angela had been alone to appear in such dishabille. The top of the robe was not closed completely and Owen could see her flesh gleaming through the translucent material of her nightgown.

  As if reading his mind she hugged the robe tightly around her tall slim body, her cheeks flushing prettily in confusion. But her hair! It was a tousled web of spun gold tumbling over her breasts and down her back in glorious abandon.

  “Jane, I didn’t think you would be back until Monday!” Angela rose smiling at a thunderstruck Owen and a perplexed Jane.

  She couldn’t believe what was happening right before her eyes! Even when she had removed her cloak at the club Owen hadn’t looked at her the way he was looking at Jane now. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, warm and rosy with sleep; her lips unconsciously parted invitingly and the long gold-tipped lashes half veiling her dark-blue eyes. Angela wondered what would have happened if she wasn’t in the room.

  The heat radiated from Owen’s eyes and seemed to scorch Jane’s skin and she blushed even more furiously. He was magnificent looking tonight in his evening clothes and there was no mistaking the hunger in his green gaze. Jane felt confused and dizzy and she didn’t think she could speak if her life depended on it. Although he hadn’t moved she could feel his hands in her hair and she was frightened. In her whole life only one other man had made her feel this way.

  It had happened in just seconds, long, drawn out moments in time. Owen broke the spell and took his leave, wondering at the alarm he had glimpsed fleetingly in Jane’s eyes. He could still see Angela’s knowing smile as he left; and then other lips, pink and moist, parted over small white teeth.

  Owen heard no ghostly echoes from his past disturbing his sleep that night. It was as if by finally telling his story to a sympathetic listener he had exorcised some of the hurt of Beth’s betrayal and death.

  Angela, Angela, Angela. Thurston Vaughn repeated the name over and over in his mind like a litany. That was his only hint as to who the siren with his brother had been. It was a common enough name but the woman was anything but that. She was exquisite and he would find her and take what he wanted. The fact that she had been with Owen and on familiar terms with him only added a fillip to the chase.

  He tried to recall every detail of that evening. Her eyes had been most unusual, the same color as the aquamarines she had worn. Her hair was as black as a night sky and her figure and complexion flawless. He could see her long slender fingers holding the cards and a large diamond on her left hand. Could she be married? Come to think of it the ring had been uncommon. Thurston couldn’t ever remember seeing a heart-shaped diamond of that quality. Probably worth a king’s ransom. She had a very rich father, husband, or lover, or was wealthy in her own right.

  He didn’t have much to go on. He would look for a petite, dark-haired woman with green-blue eyes, a heart-shaped diamond ring, and a perfect figure. If she were one of the ton it would be easy to find her at the upcoming ball at Almack’s.

  Thurston became obsessed with Angela as the days passed and her mystery only added to the excitement that was building. When he found her, he would do absolutely anything to have her. It was clear she disliked him intensely but that was no barrier. There were ways to acquire reticent women, and ways to tame them!

  He was so preoccupied that even during his duel with Owen he could not stop thinking of her. That and the dawn fog led to his bad aim. But he didn’t really want to kill his brother in the first place. They parted, both unhurt and still antagonists.

  Jane lay on the window seat reading a book of poetry. The sun streamed golden through the crystal diamond-paned window, warm and pleasant against Jane’s fair skin. A big black and yellow bee droned in the garden bumping gently against the glass as if to gain entrance and settle on the delectable flower within. A feeling of well-being and drowsiness overcame her like gentle waves lapping at a shore and she shut her eyes.

  For some inexplicable reason she had been tense and disturbed for the past few days, ever since she had returned early and found Owen and Angela in close conversation. It had been nearly dawn and they were just returning from a night on the town, together. There had been a hint of intimacy in the air and Angela had refused to say where they had been.

  Thank goodness Keith hadn’t found out about it or he would have been insanely jealous. He tended to think of Angela as his own personal property, even though Jane was sure they were not on the same terms they had been before. Fortunately Keith had been involved in some business affairs for the last few days and they had hardly a glimpse of him, so he hadn’t heard about the duel.

  It was just like Angela to have men fighting over her like dogs over a bone and it wasn’t the first time. His own brother too! The only good thing about the whole affair was that no one had been hurt. Jane had guessed the fight was over Angela and although Angela remained silent her reaction gave her away. She had finally admitted that Jane’s guess was true but wouldn’t say anything else.

  “If you want to know, go ask Owen,” Angela had told her. But Jane had been avoiding him.

  He had embarrassed her with his ardent look when she had surprised them in the library. Lord, she could still see those strangely compelling green eyes darken till they glittered like emeralds! She was scared; Jane had admitted that much to herself, but why she should be eluded her. She was perfectly safe in Angela’s house and Owen was a gentleman, surely he wouldn’t take advantage of their close proximity during the days. But that look he had given her the other night had been far from gentlemanly. He desired her and she wasn’t used to men gazing at her like that. They all inspected Angela that way and she just ignored it, but Jane didn’t think she could ever get used to it.

  Owen scanned the book-filled shelves looking for the particular one he needed when a spill of pink muslin caught the corner of his eye. Half concealed behind the heavy beige draperies Jane was lying asleep on the window seat, as enchanting as Sleeping Beauty. An open book of finely tooled leather lay on her bosom, rising and falling with her gentle breathing and above the book was the bare curve of skin revealed by the low neckline of her gown.

  He should go instead of staring breathlessly at the picture she made, gilded all over by the sunlight. Owen’s better intentions lost the battle and he sat down on the edge of the seat, filling his eyes with her loveliness. Jane stirred slightly, the book slid down and Owen caught it before it fell to the flo
or.

  A pink ribbon was threaded through her hair, through the glorious splendor of glistening gold and he longed to undo it and let his fingers play in the heavy mass of curls. There was such an air of untouched innocence about her, but at the same time an unconscious provocativeness that stirred something in him long untouched.

  To be sure, there had been other women after Beth’s tragic death, so many of them that their names and faces were a meaningless blur. But Jane was different somehow, and Owen wondered if after seven long years he was finally free enough of Beth’s ghost to start feeling again. No one could know what torture he had gone through for such a long time and quite suddenly, overnight, the dull ache that he had learned to live with was gone.

  The gilt lashes fluttered delicately like tiny fans and she looked up at him like a small defenseless animal trapped by a predator. Jane had dreamed he was looking at her in just that way, and he really was! How long had he been there studying her while she slept unaware? Her heart beat erratically and her cheeks flushed red at the volumes his eyes spoke.

  Sitting halfway up Jane darted a quick look around the room. They were quite alone and the door was firmly shut, secreting them from the rest of the house. Owen blocked any route of escape with his lean body bending slightly over hers.

  “What are you afraid of, Jane—me?” asked Owen very much aware of her agitation.

  He could see the pulse beating quickly in the hollow of her throat and it drew him like a lodestone. Jane gasped in shock as his firm, smooth lips pressed against her throat, and she caught at his shoulders to keep from falling back. Owen’s fingers moved gently in her hair scattering pins, undoing the ribbon; and his mouth moved slowly, in a burning trail up the long swanlike neck. Jane’s skin was as soft and smooth as the finest silk and he couldn’t think of a word to describe the texture of her hair, now free and flowing everywhere.

  She had made a sound of outraged protest, a quick indrawn breath when Owen first touched her, but now there was only silence, broken by their ragged breathing and the persistent bump of the bee outside. Her head fell back and Owen lowered her onto the cushions, looking deeply into her startled eyes. For just a moment their eyes locked, green and blue in voiceless combat and then his mouth found hers.

  Jane was hot and couldn’t breathe, but when she opened her mouth to gasp for air his tongue invaded it, seeking and exploring. The whole world began spinning, slowly and then faster and faster. His kiss deepened, became intensely demanding, while one hand still moved in her hair and the other traveled upward from her waist until it rested just beneath her breast. She surprised them both by her abrupt, upsurging response that molded their bodies tightly together.

  Jane’s lips moved in ardent response beneath his, soft and clinging while her arms sought to pull them even closer together. Owen’s heart beat like a drum against her breasts and he knew that if he didn’t stop he would take her right there with the possibility of an intrusion at any moment. Any doubts or confusion he had about the way he felt toward Jane had vanished as soon as their lips had met.

  Wrenching his mouth free Owen looked down at her trembling lips and her dazed, fervent eyes. Her flaxen hair was spread out around her like a halo.

  “Owen,” Jane whispered, brushing the light-brown, slightly wavy hair out of his eyes. Her fingertips traced one long sideburn and the hard line of his jaw, stopping to rest delicately against his lips.

  Her touch told him more than any words, and he was glad he had the willpower to stop when he did. She was a precious jewel, to be cherished and treasured, not used like the women in his past. When he made love to her for the first time it wouldn’t be a hasty decision, but a long awaited event. Owen knew then without a doubt that she would be his wife. What beautiful children they would make together.

  “Jane, I—”

  A piercing, agonized scream rang out loudly, shattering the magical moment. Owen was on his feet in seconds rushing for the door and Jane was right behind him oblivious of her disheveled appearance. Across the hall through the open doors of the drawing room they saw Keith catch Angela as she crumpled, white and lifeless.

  He laid her on a sofa and Jane knelt by her side while the two men hovered, watching.

  “Get some smelling salts,” ordered Jane. “Keith, what happened?”

  His eyes were troubled as he jerked on the bell pull to summon a servant. “I had a letter today containing some rather upsetting news.” Keith’s voice trailed off as Molly appeared and was sent after the smelling salts.

  Jane waved the tiny glass bottle beneath Angela’s nose and her eyelids fluttered slightly but remained closed. She tried again and it didn’t work.

  “She is not coming out of it,” said Jane looking up distressed. “I think we had better send for the doctor.” She had a terrible feeling deep inside and when she looked at her brother’s drawn face it intensified.

  Keith carried Angela upstairs with Owen and Jane trailing after him. He put her on the bed and Jane covered her cold limp body with several blankets.

  “What did you tell her, Keith?” Jane demanded an answer. “I have never seen her like this before. I think she is in shock!”

  “I didn’t want to tell her,” explained Keith noticing Jane’s disarray for the first time and the way Owen rood close to her side. “She has been through so much in the past few months. But remembering the last time,” he looked straight at Owen, “I wouldn’t want her to near it from a complete stranger.”

  Jane took one step back and started shaking her head, the color slowly draining from her face. Her lips formed a silent no and Owen looked from Keith to Jane and rack again. Taking her arm he led Jane to a chair and made her sit down.

  “I received a communications from the captain of the Columbine. There was an outbreak of cholera aboard one ship, half the convicts died.”

  For a minute black dots danced in front of Jane’s eyes but she forced them back. “Go on,” she managed to get out, her eyes never leaving Keith.

  “He died before they reached Cape Town and was buried at sea.”

  “Scott,” whispered Jane stricken to the heart. “I can’t believe it—it can’t be true!”

  Keith produced a paper from his pocket and handed it to her, watching silently as she carefully read every word. Owen knelt by her side watching with concern lest Jane faint also. But she didn’t, though her mouth, so soft and tender a few minutes ago, pressed into a white line of agony. She handed the letter back to Keith with a shaking hand and got to her feet, swaying slightly.

  “I have to be alone.” A silent communication passed between brother and sister that Owen could not fathom. “You will see to Angela, won’t you, Keith? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Without a backward glance Jane walked stiffly out of the room as if each movement of her body was an unendurable pain.

  Chapter Six

  A deadly hush settled over the house in St. James’s Square. Angela was locked in her room and had been for two days. No amount of knocking, pleading, or shouting would make her open it and she had stopped telling them to go away. It was so silent in the room that Jane was afraid she might have done herself some harm.

  Owen had been wonderful and Jane didn’t know how they would have gotten through the past few days without him. He took all the calls and helped her answer letters. But most of all he asked her no questions even though he was aware that she spent long hours in her room crying. Her red swollen eyes testified to that and no amount of cold compresses helped.

  Jane went into the library and Owen looked up from the desk piled high with correspondence. He smiled at her crookedly and she immediately burst into tears. Before she had kept all her grief to herself but his smile had reminded her so much of Scott that the reaction had been instantaneous. She turned to go but he was beside her, his arm about her shoulders, leading her to the sofa. Owen sat down and pulled her onto his lap holding and rocking her as if she were a baby. He stroked her hair and uttered soothing sounds and Jane
pressed her face against his shoulder crying even harder.

  Later when Jane stopped he tenderly wiped her face with his handkerchief and his silent knowing eyes somehow made her believe that he knew how she felt. Then he kissed her very gently until he felt a response and her hands went around his neck.

  “What is going on?” Keith stood in the doorway. He was upset over Angela’s rejection of any help or sympathy and now he found Jane perched on Owen’s lap kissing him like a strumpet.

  Jane jumped to her feet instantly, abashed that someone had discovered them. After all she wasn’t sure how she felt about Owen so how could she defend what they had been doing?

  “This is really too much, Jane! Angela is upstairs behind locked doors, dead for all we know, and you are down here carrying on a dalliance.”

  “You had better watch what you are saying,” Owen said, standing beside Jane and gazing levelly at Keith. “I will let no one talk to Jane that way!”

  “I’m her brother and I have every right to say whatever I want to her, especially if she is on the point of ruining our good name.”

  Jane gave a little gasp and Owen rudely cut in, “If you don’t apologize to Jane immediately then I will call you out and really give the gossips something to talk about! As for my intentions toward your sister, they are completely honorable.” He was beginning to dislike Keith’s self-righteous attitude. “Perhaps if you had been less concerned with your own problems you would have had the time to comfort Jane over the loss of a lifelong friend. In that case she wouldn’t have had to turn to me!”

  Their eyes locked, blazing gems of emerald and sapphire sparkling in silent combat. At last Keith dropped his gaze. The man was right and even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was forced to admit it to himself. His agitation over Angela’s behavior was making him short-tempered and rude, and he could see from Jane’s expression that he had hurt her.

  “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to fly off like that but with everything in such an uproar—”