Captain's Bride (37 page)

When they’d left, Glory turned to Nicholas. “Is she
always like that?”

“Like what?” Nicholas scoffed. “Biting and rude,
bitter and hateful? No, far from it. That was one of her warmer
greetings. Sometimes she doesn’t speak at all.” Glory’s heart went
out to him. “But why?” she asked, resting her hand against his
cheek.

“She hates me for what my father did to her.”

“What could he possibly have done to make her treat
you so—”

“He was a failure. She expected so much—wealth,
power, position. My father disappointed her.”

“But Papa said Alexander Blackwell was one of the
wealthiest shippers in the North.”

“He was for a time. Then he married Elizabeth St.
John and drank himself to death trying to forget the woman he
loved.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Nicholas, it must have been terrible for
you.”

“I was just a little boy when Father married her. I
didn’t understand why she loved Bradford and not me. She treated me
badly or ignored me completely. Of course, Brad was just an infant.
He was the sweetest baby you’ve ever seen. I used to sit by his
cradle for hours just watching him. Elizabeth would shoo me out of
the room whenever she caught me, but I’d always sneak back in. I
got the birch more than a few times for disobeying her, but it was
worth it.” His mouth curved in a thin, bitter smile.

“Father felt guilty and began to drink even more,” he
said. “Things got steadily worse after that. I ran away to sea when
I was twelve. You know the rest.”

“After all she’d done, you still provide for her and
Brad?”

“Brad is a gem. Elizabeth doted on him, but he never
became selfish or spoiled. I swear he was born grown up. He
deserves everything I’ve ever done for him. As for my stepmother,
she’s still my father’s widow. I could hardly turn her out in the
street.”

“Some would have.”

“That’s the ironic part. She hates being under my
protection—at my mercy, she says. She has to take money from me
because she has no other way to live. It only makes her hate me
more.”

Glory slipped her arms around his neck, resting her
cheek against his. “I had such a happy childhood,” she told him.
“Father was always there for me. Mother and I were never close, but
I knew deep down that she loved me.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too,
Glory. Never forget that.” He watched her for a moment, as if he
wished she’d say those words to him. Glory swallowed hard, trying
to find the courage but still unable to speak.

“I think we’d best descend to the lion’s den,” he
said, breaking the mood, “or should I say the lioness?” He took her
arm and opened the door. “It seems different this time. Easier with
you here.”

She felt a tightness around her heart, a yearning to
protect him. She wished she had the courage to speak her
feelings.

Arm in arm, they moved into the hallway and down the
stairs.

Later that night, after they’d made love, Glory
snuggled against him. She lay quietly for a while, but her
conscience wouldn’t let her sleep. When she rolled to her side, she
saw Nicholas was also awake.

She propped herself up in bed. “Why aren’t you
sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?”

She wet her lips, deciding now was as good a time as
any. “Because I’ve been keeping something from you that I shouldn’t
have.”

Nicholas sat up beside her, the sheet falling to his
waist leaving his chest bare. “You lied to me?” Moonlight streaming
through a window betrayed the pulse that hammered at the base of
his throat.

“No. I just didn’t tell you. It’s something I feel
strongly about, Nicholas. So much so, I was afraid to mention it
for fear you’d forbid me to continue. I didn’t want to go against
your wishes.”

Nicholas watched her closely. “Go on.”

“While you were gone to the city this last time,
Nathan came to see me. He asked for my help. I want you to know he
insisted that I seek your permission, but I convinced him I’d speak
to you when the time was right.”

“And you think that time is now?”

“I think that time was probably when you returned.
But you . . .”

“I what?”

She felt a rush of warmth, adding color to her
cheeks. Seeing the softening around his mouth, she knew Nicholas
had noticed it, too. “You . . .
persuaded
me back to your
bed.”

He chuckled, the sound no more than the merest
rumble. “Is
that
what I did?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. And then there was
Kristen Pedigru, and things got even more complicated.”

“So you decided to deceive me.”

“No! I wanted to tell you, but I’d waited so long . .
.”

“So you’re going to tell me now.”

She took a deep breath. “This is the most important
work I’ve ever done. I know you don’t approve; I’m not asking for
your approval, only your permission to continue.”

“Now, this
is
a first. Gloria Summerfield
Blackwell asking my permission.”

“Nicholas, you are making this harder than ever.”

“Good. Next time you’ll tell me the truth in the
first place.” The words sounded harsh, but the indulgent light in
his eyes said he wasn’t as angry as he seemed. “Go on,” he urged
when she didn’t continue.

Glory took a deep, steadying breath. “I belong to the
Underground Railroad. I helped runaways when I lived in Boston, and
the other day I sheltered two of them at Black-well Hall.” She
didn’t even move, just waited for his outburst. “Well, aren’t you
going to say something? I just told you I hid runaway slaves in
your house.”

“
Our
house,” he corrected. “Besides, I already
knew.”

“You knew! How did you know?”

“Isaac told me. He thinks the world of you, Glory.
But he’d never do anything behind my back.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I wanted you to tell me yourself.”

She twisted the folds of the sheet, unable to meet
his gaze. “It’s important to me, Nicholas.”

“So you said.”

She lifted her eyes to his. The smoky irises didn’t
waver, but they held no rebuke. “Does that mean you’ll let me
continue?”

“Could I stop you?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“At least you’re honest. I told you before, Glory, I
trade with the people of the South. I’d be a hypocrite if I worked
against them behind their backs. On the other hand, you’d be guilty
of a far greater sin if you didn’t heed your conscience. I will not
assist you, but I won’t stop you either.”

“Oh, Nicholas!” She rolled on top of him and covered
his face with kisses, smiling and laughing at the same time. “Thank
you, thank you, thank you.” The hard muscles of his chest bunched
as his hand cupped her bottom to settle her more firmly atop him.
Her eyes widened as she felt his rigid manhood pressing stiffly
between her thighs.

“I’m afraid I won’t settle for just a thank-you,” he
said, his voice turning husky. “It’s time you paid the piper.” With
that he kissed her until she felt breathless and hot all over. Then
he slid inside. She could feel the heat, the thickness of his shaft
as he filled her, gliding out and then in, stirring a surge of
desire with each demanding stroke. Wanting more, Glory arched and
bucked against him, but he gripped her flesh and held her steady,
thrusting into her again and again. The heat he fired seared her
loins. She moaned and writhed, but he didn’t let go. Just drove
hard and deep until she reached a climax and so did he.

When they’d spiraled down to a comfortable glow, she
ran a playful finger along his chest. “If that is my punishment,
maybe I should deceive you more often.”

“Try it again,” he warned, “and I won’t be so
gentle.”

“Gentle!” They both laughed at the same time.
Brushing her lips in a last brief kiss, he enfolded her in the
circle of his arm.

They lay quiet for a while, then, “Tell me you love
me.”

She didn’t answer. It was still too soon. “I can’t,
Nicholas,” she whispered. “Not yet. Please try to understand.”

“I’m trying, Glory. Harder than you know.”

“Do you think you can entertain yourself for a few
hours while I’m away?” he asked. “I need to check on a few things
at my office.”

Glory yawned and stretched catlike beneath the
sheets. Nicholas was already up and dressed in navy blue
splittailed coat, gray cashmere waistcoat and trousers, white
shirt, and stock. Damp black hair curled just above his collar.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she told him with a soft
smile.

“I won’t be back till late this afternoon. Just take
it easy today. I want you well rested for the ball.”

Glory’s smile faded.

Nicholas leaned over the bed and brushed her lips
with a kiss. “It won’t be that bad. I promise.” He strode to the
door. “I’ll see you later.”

A few minutes after he’d gone, a petite woman in her
early twenties knocked and entered the room. She was dressed in
black except for a crisp white apron and a white linen cap.

“Mornin’, miss.”

Glory sighed. “Good morning.”

“My name is Cheryl. I’ll be your lady’s maid whilst
you’re here.”

“Thank you, Cheryl.” Cheryl helped Glory with her
ablutions, coiffed her hair, and helped her dress. She was
extremely efficient, her demeanor almost stoic. Glory imagined the
maid had learned the attitude from her mistress.

Glory spent the day reading and resting, as Nicholas
had suggested. She walked in the gardens at the rear of the town
house, soaking up the early sun, then returned to her room. The day
passed far too quickly, though she’d spent the time alone. Nicholas
arrived before dark but still had work to do, so she saw him only
briefly. She ate a light repast, ordered a bath sent up, and had
her gown laid out She had chosen a beautiful white satin trimmed in
blue brocade. The bodice, also of blue brocade, fit closely, ending
in a deep-V-shaped inset below the waist. The color matched her
eyes; the décolletage was daringly low.

After a rose-scented bath, Glory dressed in a fine
linen chemise and demicorset; then Cheryl returned to comb her
hair, styling it in long cascading ringlets below her ears. Freshly
washed, it glistened in the flickering lamplight as richly as her
satin gown. Cheryl finished Glory’s toilette by smoothing
rose-scented cream over her bare shoulders.

“My, miss, you certainly look pretty. Every man there
will have eyes only for you.”

“Thank you, Cheryl.” Eyes only for her? Glory had no
doubt of that. They would be dying to see “the captain’s tart.” She
felt her stomach roll, the color drain from her cheeks. It was all
she could do to keep from bursting into tears. She would never be
able to face them. Never!

“Are you all right, miss?” Cheryl asked, and Glory
felt worse than ever.

Was she that transparent? How in God’s name would she
be able to fool Nicholas’s friends if she couldn’t even fool one of
the servants? “I’m . . . I’m fine, thank you. That will be all for
now.” Cheryl quietly left the room.

Glory sank down on the tapestry stool before the
giltframed mirror. If she gave in to tears, her eyes would be
swollen and red, and she would make an even bigger fool of herself.
Her stomach rolled again, and for a moment she thought she might
really be sick.

Just then Nicholas opened the door. He had bathed,
shaved, and dressed in black evening clothes, perfectly tailored to
his lean, hard frame.

Nicholas paused in the doorway, his gaze drawn to the
beauty who faced him from across the room. Though her cheeks were
pale, her blond hair glistened, and her skin locked so soft and
smooth he fought the urge to touch it. The creamy mounds of her
bosom rose and fell above the top of the gown, tantalizing him,
beckoning him—just as they would every other man who saw her. It
was all he could do to keep his jealousy at bay. He smiled at
himself. He’d married a beautiful, desirable woman. He would have
to learn to accept that. He certainly had no trouble accepting it
in bed.

Striding across the room, he dropped a light kiss on
the curve of her neck. “Good evening, love.’’ Again he allowed
himself the pleasure of watching her. “You look more beautiful than
I could have wished.” His voice had turned husky.

“Nicholas, I’m afraid I won’t be able to go with you
after all.”

He quirked a brow. “No?”

Nervously she glanced away. “I’m not feeling well.
Maybe my monthly time is coming.”

Nicholas chuckled softly. “You never cease to amaze
me. I was certain you’d be eager for revenge. A chance to show them
the stuff you’re really made of. That’s what your father would have
wanted you to do, but if you’re afraid . . .” He shrugged his
shoulders. “I’d rather you accompany me, but if you’re . . . ill, I
certainly don’t want to encourage you.”

Glory chewed her lip, looking uncertain.

“I believe an old friend of yours from Charleston
will be there,” he pressed. “Lavinia Bond. And of course you know
Kristen and Arthur Pedigru.”

Cheeks coloring, she lifted her chin. Nicholas took a
stride toward the door. “I’ll send the maid up to help you undress.
I don’t want to be late.”

She took a hesitant step toward him, hands clenched
at her sides. “Nicholas, wait.”

He faced her, allowing himself a narrow half-smile.
“Feeling better?”

“Damn you, Nicholas Blackwell. You are still a devil
of a man!”

“And you, my sweet, are still stubborn and spoiled
and in need of just such a man.”

They both grinned at the same time. Nicholas extended
his arm. “Shall we go?”

“You always win, don’t you?”

“Not always. I distinctly remember losing a game of
billiards once.”

Glory laughed, a soft tinkling sound. She accepted
his arm with an impish smile.

“One more thing.” Nicholas reached into the pocket of
his waistcoat and extracted a small velvet box. He opened the lid
and lifted a thin gold chain. A single blue sapphire surrounded by
a wreath of diamonds dangled from the end of the chain.