Andrea Kane (17 page)

She was more terrified that he would leave her behind.

Since a fortnight ago in her father’s study, Alex had barely seen Drake. Her days were filled with dress fittings, her nights with doubts and worries. And now that the day was here, apprehension and confusion seemed to converge, inundating her with a fear that was suffocating.

Wrapping her robe more tightly around her, she went to the bedchamber window and pressed her face to the glass, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Before she could make any progress, there was a firm knock on her bedchamber door.

She jumped. “Come in.”

Geoffrey Cassel opened the door and walked in, immaculately dressed and dreadfully ill at ease. His tone, however, was customarily brusque.

“I see you are awake, Alexandria.”

“I haven’t slept,” was the pointed response.

He ignored the meaning behind her words and crossed the room to the small settee beside the window where Alex stood. “Sit down, Alexandria.” It was an order. “Today you are to be married, and it is time for us to talk.”

Alex suspected that his talk would not be the soothing, caring chat she needed but rather another issuance of rules and expectations for her to live up to. So be it. She sat and waited.

Satisfied with her action, Geoffrey continued. “If your mother were here right now she would be having this talk with you. Since you have made that an impossibility”—he scowled briefly, letting Alex see his disapproval once more—“the task has fallen to me. I want to assure myself that you are prepared for your duties and obligations as a wife.”

Alex gave him an incredulous look. She hadn’t the faintest notion why her father was so concerned. After all, the numerous rules that applied to being the most gracious of hostesses, the most versatile of conversationalists, the very paragon of London society, would hardly be put to the test in a cramped cabin of a merchant ship. Fascinated, she waited for him to continue.

“I recognize only too clearly that the words ‘obey’ and ‘submit to’ are not as yet in your vocabulary. You have precisely two hours to change that. Defiance and rebelliousness are not desirable traits in a wife.” He took a deep breath. “Especially to a man like Drake Barrett, who is used to others doing his bidding. He will expect certain things of you as his wife, some of which may seem rather … distasteful.” He cleared his throat, unable to meet her wide-eyed stare. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“You’re telling me that I must relinquish every independent thought and opinion that I possess,” she summed up.

Geoffrey did not smile. “Not only your thoughts. You must relinquish everything, Alexandria.
Now
do I make myself clear?”

Alex was torn between laughter and tears. “Are we discussing my wedding night now, Father?” she asked boldly.

He was taken aback by her forthright question. At last he nodded. “I presume you know what to expect?”

She had a very good idea, but there were so many questions she wanted answered, so much reassurance that she needed. Looking at her father’s granite-set face, she knew that none of it would be forthcoming. “Yes, Father, I have been told what to expect.”

His relief was evident. “Good. Bear in mind that your submission is necessary in order to produce an heir for your husband.”

An heir. The one thing that her poor mother had never been able to provide Geoffrey, despite her repeated “submissions.” Well, in this case, it didn’t matter. There was no title or land to pass on. The only thing Drake’s child would inherit was
La Belle Illusion.
Hardly a sizable fortune worth losing sleep over.

Submission. Alex allowed herself a brief reflection on her limited physical intimacies with Drake. The memories were vivid and bone-melting. Instinct told her that Drake would be bored to tears with the sort of wife Geoffrey was describing—the sort of wife she could never be. She understood enough about the chemistry that existed between herself and her husband-to-be to recognize that she could either violently resist him or go up in smoke with him. But submit to him? Never.

She stood up. “I understand what you’ve told me, Father. Now I need to bathe and dress. I wouldn’t want to anger my
betrothed
by being late on my wedding day.”

Geoffrey ignored her sarcasm. “Of course not. I will see you downstairs in two hours.”

Alex closed the door behind him, feeling more alone than ever. It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t sure exactly what Drake’s plans were after the wedding. Since, during their few terse exchanges over the last few days, he had made no mention of the need for her to pack or ready herself in any way, it was possible that he meant to leave her behind here in York when he returned to England.

Well, that suited her just fine, the independent streak in her cried out. To hell with being a dutiful wife. She would remain in York, unavailable to men and therefore unencumbered by the demands society made on unmarried women. She would be free to sail her skiff, to make her own rules, to live her own life.

To be alone.

An undefinable ache filled her heart at the finality of the thought. Always she had dreamed, planned, anticipated the very life that now awaited her. So why did she feel so empty as the time to realize her dream drew near?

She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids, sat down at the edge of her bed. Today, just after noon, in a quiet ceremony at the governor’s mansion, she would become Drake’s wife.

What was he thinking now? Was he angry, resentful? Did he loathe her for what had been forced upon him? Or was he, like her, confused and uncertain, wondering what fate had in store for them?

A soft knock at the door of her bedchamber announced the arrival of Alex’s bath. In a few short hours she would have her answers.

Drake stood unmoving as Smitty tied the silk cravat about his neck. The stark whiteness of the material richly complemented the dark elegance of Drake’s formal waistcoat and pantaloons and perfectly matched the crisp frilled shirt.

Once through, Smitty stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Flawless, if I must say so myself, Captain,” he declared, with a flourish.

Drake gave him a searching look. “The attire or the bridegroom, Smitty?”

“Both.” Smitty was not put off by his captain’s foul mood, for he knew what caused it, and it was time that the problem was addressed. Pausing only to firmly close the cabin door, he turned back to Drake’s scowl.

“Why do I get the distinct feeling that a lecture is about to be delivered, Smitty?”

Smitty shook his head. “No lecture, my lord. Just a talk between old friends.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”

Smitty smiled. “You are angry that today is your wedding day.”

Drake gave a disgusted snort. “A brilliant deduction, my friend. You need not have closed the door for such a grand proclamation.”

“Did you expect never to marry?”

“Of course I expected to marry. Someday.”

“So you are angry that you are being forced to marry now, against your will?”

“I am not being forced to do anything,” Drake shot back.

“Ah, that’s right. You are doing this for your family.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Drake gave Smitty a suspicious look, wondering where all this was leading.

“Then you should be proud—unless, of course, Lady Alexandria possesses some horrid quirk that I know nothing about and that would make her an unsuitable wife?” He waited.

“You know damn well that there is nothing unsuitable about Alexandria.”

Smitty nodded. “So you are marrying a perfectly acceptable young woman for only the most admirable reasons and of your own free will.” He paused, considering. “Actually there is no earthly reason for your foul humor, is there?” When Drake did not answer, he continued. “Unless you have some strong feelings for your wife-to-be. Now, based on your experience and your opinion of women,
that
would be a problem. To give this woman your name is most magnanimous of you, but to give her your heart… that would be an entirely different matter.”

“Shut up, Smitty.” Drake had heard enough.

Smitty regarded Drake soberly. His reaction had been as expected—angry, defensive, stubborn.

Afraid.

“Your heart may be hardened, but your instincts tell you that she is different,” he observed wisely.

Drake stiffened. “She’s a woman.”

“She cares a great deal for you.”

“Some of the time,” Drake conceded, thinking of the way Alex responded in his arms.

“Be gentle with her, my lord,” Smitty told him softly. “She does not understand the bitterness that drives you to her and then away.”

Drake closed his eyes for a moment, and Smitty saw the struggle that raged inside him. “I will try not to hurt her, Smitty. It was never my intent.”

“I know, my lord. I, better than anyone, know the kind of man you are.”

Drake gave him a tortured look. “And what kind of man is that, Smitty?”

Smitty smiled. “I will let the future answer that question for you, Captain.” He moved toward the door, gesturing for Drake to follow. “Come. It is late. We wouldn’t want to delay your wedding, now, would we?”

Drake looked around the cabin, a new reality causing anticipation to replace his pain, heightening his senses. Tonight he would bring Alexandria here as his wife.

He glanced at the bed, imagining the long hours he would spend awakening her to her passion before he finally made her his wife in every way. Tonight, at long last, Lady Alexandria Cassel would be his.

No, he wouldn’t want to delay the wedding. Or the wedding night.

Lord Sudsbury had done his work well. The special license had been obtained, the minister was already present to conduct the brief ceremony, and a small afternoon buffet awaited the wedding participants. The blue salon had been transformed, its elegant yet dignified furnishings enhanced with sprays of pastel flowers, the fire that burned in the wide stone fireplace stoked just high enough to suffuse the room in low, filtered light.

Geoffrey surveyed the room with a self-satisfied smile. Because of her reckless and impulsive nature, Alexandria had stumbled unknowingly into the most enviable match of the Season. She would wed one of the wealthiest, most sought-after men of the
ton,
a man whose fortune and family name were among the most prestigious in all of England.

A notorious rake whose reputation with women should have horrified his future bride’s father.

It did not. As far as Geoffrey was concerned, Drake’s lack of reverence for women was a small price to pay for restoring Alexandria’s reputation and, in fact, raising her to the very pinnacle of society. No father could have asked for more.

A noise from the doorway made Geoffrey glance up. Drake stood with Smitty just inside the room. The bridegroom’s splendidly tailored evening clothes outlined his powerful body; the expression on his handsome face was unreadable.

“Lord Cairnham,” Geoffrey acknowledged with a nod.

Drake strode into the room, giving a cursory glance at his surroundings.

“Lord Sudsbury,” he returned. “I am ready to begin. Smitty will act as my groomsman.” He gestured toward the older man. “Also, I would ask that you cease to refer to me as Lord Cairnham. Alexandria will soon be my wife, and I shall decide upon the proper time to inform her of my identity.”

Geoffrey shrugged indifferently. “As you wish,
Captain
Barrett,” he replied, then lowered his voice. “As I told you when you first arrived, I have no interest in the details of your relationship with my daughter. The other guests are unaware of your rank among the peerage, so your secret is safe. How you handle Alexandria in the future is your responsibility, not mine.”

Drake gave him a dark look. “Yes, I know. You made your parental interest in Alexandria’s life quite clear to me. And to her as well.” He looked back over his shoulder, not waiting for an answer. The more he spoke to Geoffrey Cassel the more certain he was that this marriage was the right thing for Alexandria. Her father’s lack of regard for her happiness angered Drake to an irrational level. All he wanted right now was to take Alex as far from here as possible. As soon as possible.

Drake turned back to the earl. “Is Alexandria ready to begin?” he asked impatiently.

Geoffrey nodded. “She should be downstairs at any moment now.”

“I am here, Father.”

Alex’s soft voice came from the open doorway. Both Geoffrey and Drake turned at the sound. Only Smitty waited long enough to catch the unguarded look of raw emotion that registered in Drake’s eyes, then disappeared at the first sight of his bride.

Alex had stubbornly refused to wear a traditional bridal gown of white and silver, insisting that it would be absurd to do so at such an unconventional wedding as this. Instead, she wore a simple high-waisted gown of delicate blush-colored silk, trimmed at the bodice and hem with white lace. Its long, full sleeves flowed to her wrists, where they were tied with pink silk ribbons. She wore a wreath of pale pink roses on the crown of her shining golden brown hair, which hung in soft curls down her back.

She was the most exquisite bride Drake had ever seen.

Along with awed admiration and aching desire, Drake felt profound pride in the heart-stoppingly beautiful young woman who was soon to be his wife. She walked into the room, her head held high, proud and composed, ready to accept her fate.

Their eyes met. Everything she was feeling was reflected in the clear gray eyes that regarded him from beneath the long fringe of her gold-tipped lashes—all her vulnerability, her hurt, and her fear. Drake felt a surge of protectiveness so strong that it left him shaken. And in that moment he made a decision: no matter what lay ahead for them, no matter how little of himself he could offer her, no one, including him, would ever hurt Alex again. He would make sure of it … as her husband.

Alex was so deeply aware of Drake that it made her tremble. His strength, his very presence, made her feel weak and afraid, protected and whole. Standing by his side, hearing his deep baritone voice speaking his vows, gave her the courage to speak her own.