Andrea Kane (18 page)

It felt like a dream, and she was the omniscient observer watching it unfold. She stared at her own hand, fascinated, as Drake slid a simple gold band on her fourth finger, sealing their union. She raised her gaze to his face, and he smiled, leaning down to brush a soft, chaste kiss across her lips.

“Hang on, princess,” he murmured softly, for her ears alone. “The ordeal is almost over.”

She wondered vaguely if he meant her ordeal or his own. Either way, she nodded, managing to give him a small smile.

The dreamlike feeling prevailed even after the ceremony ended. The midday buffet was a quiet affair, hardly the elaborate celebration that usually followed the joining of two noble families. It mattered not to Alex, who wouldn’t have been able to force down a bite if her very life had depended on it.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Smitty’s compassionate voice penetrated her mental haze.

“Yes, Smitty, I am fine.” She fingered the folds of her gown thoughtfully, considering whether or not to broach the subject of Drake’s plans for her.

“You are the most beautiful of brides,” Smitty told her with a warm smile.

Alex returned his smile halfheartedly. “Thank you for being here. Whether it was only for Drake’s sake or for my own as well, I am grateful to you for coming.”

“I am very fond of you, my lady,” was the instantaneous reply. “Your happiness and well-being are as much my concern as your husband’s.”

“My husband.” Alex repeated the words, looking across the room at the man they designated. Her husband. Tall and commanding. Bitter and angry. Gentle and passionate.

As if he felt her gaze upon him, Drake looked up from his conversation with Lord Sudsbury and met Alex’s eyes. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his handsome face, and at that moment Alex felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. And the most unsure.

“I must be getting back to the ship,” Smitty was saying to her. “There is much work to be done before we depart for England at week’s end.”

“At week’s end?” Alex asked. “Is that when you plan to leave?”

Smitty looked surprised. “Hasn’t Captain Barrett told you of his plans?”

His
plans. Alex’s heart sank.

“No, Smitty, he has not.” Out of the corner of her eye Alex saw the butler hurry into the room and speak quietly and rapidly to her father. A moment later Geoffrey excused himself and disappeared from the room. Well, now was Alex’s chance to discuss the future with her new husband.

Smitty was frowning. “I thought for certain …”

He never completed what he had been about to say, for Drake’s appearance at their side interrupted the conversation.

“Is
La Belle Illusion
going to be ready to sail on schedule?” he asked Smitty.

Smitty nodded. “Of course, Captain. The timber is nearly all loaded; the men are settling down.” He grinned.

Drake grinned back. “Good.” For the first time he looked down at Alex. “Smitty, I would like a few minutes to speak with my wife.”

“Certainly, Captain.” Smitty looked from Drake to Alex, his eyes shining with love and pride. “I want to congratulate both of you again. May the future bring you only happiness.”

Smitty was gone before Alex could say good-bye. Well, she would just have to find him before the ship sailed. She needed to make him understand just how important his friendship was to her.

“Princess?” For the first time the word sounded like an endearment and not a mockery. “Are you all right? You look as white as a sheet.”

Alex swallowed. “Yes, Drake, I’m fine. I promise not to embarrass you by fainting.”

He chuckled, glad to see that her spirit was still intact. “Let’s take a walk. I need to talk to you about the plans I’ve made.”

At last. The moment of truth.

Alex allowed him to take her arm and lead her onto the wide balcony overlooking the front gardens of the estate.

“I have to get back to England.” Drake did not mince his words. “I’ve already been away too long. Because of the winds and the storm, we lost a great deal of time. I must take the timber home as soon as possible.”

“I know.” Alex’s voice was devoid of emotion.

Drake stared down into her pale face, trying to assess her reaction. “I’m sorry that things cannot be the way you want them to be. If it were at all possible I would make it so.”

I will not cry,
Alex told herself, fighting back the tears of humiliation that threatened to erupt.

She lifted her small chin and met his gaze. “You don’t have to apologize, Drake. I had no illusions about this marriage.”

He looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“About your plans to return to England at week’s end.”

“What the hell does that have to do with your expectations of our marriage?” he asked in an incredulous tone. “Did you think I could remain in Canada forever? You know I have a job to do, Alexandria.”

Her hands made tight fists of control at her sides. “Yes, I know you do.”

“Have I not given you enough time? Is that it?”

“You have
given
me your name and respectability,” she shot back. “I suppose that is more than any woman should ask.”

“Apparently you’re not any woman.”

“No, I suppose I’m not. So perhaps this is for the best. You can live your life, and I can live mine.”

“That’s going to be rather difficult in such cramped quarters,” he told her in a cold voice.

“Half a world away is not far enough for you, Captain Barrett?” she demanded.

“Half a world …” Drake broke off as the truth of the situation struck him. “You were planning to stay here in York?” There was such anger and accusation in his voice that Alex flinched.

“Evidently we agree it would be for the best.” She would hold on to her pride if it was the last thing she ever did.

“The best for whom?” he spat out. “Damn it, Alexandria, you are my wife. Like it or not, you belong to me now.”

The joy accompanying the realization that Drake intended to take her with him was obliterated by his dictatorial words.

“I belong to no one,” she returned, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Funny, I remember the vows you took saying otherwise.” His pain and hurt manifested themselves in rage. “The fact is that you are now my possession. You relinquished your rights as an individual the moment you became Mrs. Drake Barrett.” He lowered his head until she could see the glitter of emerald steel in his eyes, feel his breath on her face. “You have three days to ready yourself, princess. And then we leave for England—
both
of us.” He paused. “And don’t plan on using your nights for packing. I plan to keep you thoroughly occupied at night.
All
night. Understood?”

Color flooded Alex’s face. “You coldhearted bastard, I wouldn’t submit to your lust if …”

“Submit?” he growled. “Is that what you planned to do, princess? Submit to me? Well, I assure you, you
will
come to my bed, and it
will not
be submission you feel when you do.”

Alex raised her hand and slapped him hard. The sound echoed in the quiet afternoon. For a moment they both stood, stunned at her action. Then she backed away, her expression a mixture of fear and fury.

“We will never know, will we?” she spat out. “For I have no intention of ever seeing you again.”

He caught her arms and lifted her easily off the balcony floor, raising her face to his. “This conversation is far from over, princess,” he said in a deadly whisper. “For once in your life you are not going to do exactly what you want to do—”

“Drake.” Geoffrey’s voice came from the open doors to the balcony. He was totally oblivious of the violent argument he had interrupted, his usually composed face flushed, his hands shaking. “I need to see you at once.”

Slowly Drake lowered Alex to the balcony, taking in Lord Sudsbury’s overwrought appearance. “What is it?”

“It is urgent. I must see you alone.”

Drake nodded, then gave Alex a withering look. “Wait here for me.”

It was an order. How she would have loved to disobey him, to show him how little his authority meant to her. But her curiosity as to the cause of her father’s distress won out. She nodded. “I will wait.”

Satisfied that she would do as she said, Drake went inside to speak with Geoffrey.

Alex paced back and forth on the balcony. It seemed forever until Drake returned. When he did, his expression was dark.

“Drake? What is it?” Instinctively she knew that the news was bad.

“Go and get your things, Alexandria. Our plans have changed. We sail for England at once.”

Alex’s eyes opened wide with disbelief. “Now? Today?”

“Yes. Immediately.” He turned to go inside.

“Drake.” Her voice stopped him. “Please. Tell me what has happened.”

He turned back, knowing he could not lie to her, knowing he had no choice but to tell her.

“An invasion of Upper Canada is imminent,” he said in a somber tone. “Word just reached us that on the eighteenth of June, America declared war on England.”

A
LEX WAS STILL SHAKING.
If the first half of the day had been a dream, the remainder had been a nightmare.

Precisely three hours after Drake told her of the war’s onset,
La Belle Illusion
had set sail for England. Alex’s new husband had left the mansion immediately following his announcement to assist with the preparations. The crew’s festivities had ceased at once, every man returning to the ship.

Alex had quickly assembled several of her new gowns, all of her undergarments, and a few sundry items from her dressing table. At the last moment she had decided to pack the delicate ivory silk nightgown that had been laid out for her wedding night. It was certainly a luxury, but having spent countless nights at sea clad in a man’s shirt, she felt entirely justified in packing it.

Her father had barely said good-bye. Moments after Drake’s departure he had left to see Major General Brock.

“Be well and safe, Alexandria,” he had told her as he awaited his carriage.

“And you, Father,” she had replied softly, praying that the war would end quickly and with minimal bloodshed.

Then he was gone.

Alex and her luggage had been delivered to the docks just after two o’clock. She barely recognized the crew of Drake’s brig, so intent were they on their jobs. Gone were the jovial men who had laughed and teased their way to Canada with her. Now the air about them crackled with tension; their taut muscles were strained and sweating as they silently prepared for the treacherous voyage home. But Alex had expected no less. England was again at war.

Thomas Greer had been squatting at the opening to the hold when Alex climbed aboard. Peering down into the square pit, he wiped sweat from his brow with a tanned forearm and stood.

“That was the last of it, Cochran,” he called down. “Time to ready the sails.”

Cochran’s affirmative answer echoed onto the main deck, and for the first time in hours, Thomas stretched, ready to begin his next task. He started when he saw Alex.

“Miss Alex … I mean, my lady … Mrs. Barrett…” The poor boy was at a total loss.

In spite of her depleted emotional state Alex smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Thomas. And nothing has changed. Miss Alex will do fine.”

He looked relieved. “I’m real glad yer back with us, ma’am.” He scanned the deck, his mind already on the work ahead of him. “I ’ope you understand … there’s a lot t’ do and—”

Alex waved away his apology. “I’ll be fine, Thomas. Do what you must.”

“Would you like me t’ carry yer bags t’ your cabin?” he offered.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She wondered briefly where Drake was and then decided against asking. The last thing he would be concerned about right now was his bride and her fears.

“The cap’n is determined t’ leave port within the hour,” Thomas informed her, as if reading her mind.

Alex frowned. It wasn’t like Drake to panic. “Is time
that
precious?”

He looked grim. “There’s no telling what’ll happen once word gets out that the Americans ’ave declared war,” he answered. “And frankly, Miss Alex, Cap’n Barrett is really worried about ye. He wants t’ make sure he gets ye home t’ England quick and safe.”

“Oh.” Alex wasn’t quite sure what to say. A warm feeling melted some of her earlier anger. While she realized that Drake simply felt responsible for her, still … it made her feel a little more secure, a little less desolate. “Thank you for telling me, Thomas.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced down at her luggage. “Is that all you brought with you?”

“That’s all.”

“I’ll take it down t’ the cap’n’s … t’ yer cabin right away,” he corrected himself. “Then, I’ll go tell Cap’n Barrett that you’ve arrived and are safe below.” He scampered off like a rabbit.

From the time the merchant brig left York and began its journey through Lake Ontario toward the great Saint Lawrence until bedtime Alex did not see Drake. Knowing him as she did, she was certain that he had remained at the helm to assist his men. She understood. First and foremost came his ship and his crew.

At dinnertime Smitty brought her a tray of food and asked that she remain in her quarters in case of any danger. Alex did not need to ask whose orders those were, nor did she question them. Now was not the time.

It was after midnight when Smitty finally persuaded a tight-lipped Drake to go below.

“Captain, there has been no incident as yet and no sign of an American ship. You will need all of your resources over the next few days to guide us through the Saint Lawrence. Please try to get some sleep.”

Drake ran his fingers through his windblown hair and nodded. “All right, Smitty. But I insist that you wake me if there is the slightest hint of trouble.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Drake made his way to the lower deck, knowing he should be exhausted. Instead, his body was taut with the stress of the day, the blood pulsing through his veins, energy tingling through every pore of his body, making him wide awake. Only his eyes burned from the strain of scanning the horizon for hostile ships.

Drake opened his cabin door, then kicked it closed behind him.