Captive Pride (4 page)

“And as much as you have the audacity to argue the point, you will be a direct beneficiary of what you call my ‘obsession,'” Noah returned sarcastically. “If we are to return home and reestablish ourselves—”

“You're the one who's so intent on returning to England! I never said that I wanted to go back, let alone ‘reestablish' myself!” he declared furiously.

“We will be going back. Never doubt that for a moment.” The fierce determination of Noah's words chilled Matthew. “Now, if you don't mind, it's late and I would like to get ready for bed.” The rebuff in his tone clear, Matt knew it was useless to continue the confrontation.

“Of course.” Stiffly, he excused himself and then stalked across the room, closing the door firmly behind him as he made his exit.

As he entered his room, Matt was still angry and frustrated as he bitterly pondered the fate that had changed his once easygoing brother into a man so totally obsessed with wealth. Allowing his thoughts to wander, he tried to come to grips with the man his brother had become.

Striding to the window, he parted the curtains and stared out across the night-shrouded city. How had it all come about? Just a few months ago they had been happy. Their father had been alive and the lucrative Kincade Shipping firm had been flourishing. Now he and Noah were at the brink of financial ruin, the strain of which was tearing them apart.

Matt shook his head sorrowfully as he remembered the trauma of the duel with Radcliffe. It seemed to him now, as he pondered it, that the changes in Noah had already occurred by then, but he had been just too naive to realize it. Though Noah had never related exactly what had been said by Radcliffe the night before their fateful encounter, the insult that was issued had stirred a cold, deadly resolve within Noah and sealed, possibly forever, the transformation of his very being.

Sighing in resignation, Matt turned from the window. He knew he would get little rest this night. As he stretched out, still dressed, on the comfort of the wide bed, he couldn't help but wonder if Noah would ever be the same again.

“Marry me, CC. You've kept me waiting long enough.” John Robinson's proposal was ardent as he held the woman he loved within the possessive circle of his arms. “I've spoken with your father and he has no objection. It's up to you now. You know how I feel.”

CC regarded her longtime beau, John Robinson, from beneath slightly lowered lashes. She cared for John and didn't want to hurt him, but she knew that she did not share the same feelings that he did. He was her friend and her confidant in many things, but love…no, she didn't love John.

“I'm sorry, John,” she demurred softly. “I care about you. I truly do, but I'm not ready to marry yet.”

John's temper flared. As a gainfully employed, very attractive, very eligible bachelor, he was sought after by many women, all of whom were eager for his attentions, but he had spurned them for CC. She was the only woman he wanted, and yet, after paying serious court to her for months, she was still aloof. It was maddening!

Of course, John knew that he'd been warned. Many men before him had tried to win her elusive heart, and none had succeeded. Now, to his despair, it looked like he, too, was to suffer their same fate…unrequited love.

Still, no matter how he tried to downplay it, her answer hurt, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing her for some kind of more definitive answer besides “I'm not ready to marry yet.”

“When will you be ready to marry, CC?” he challenged. “You're twenty-two. Most women of your age have settled down and—” John got no further as the copper-haired vixen reacted sharply to his statement.

“I am not most women, John Robinson,” she told him haughtily, her green eyes flashing in the heat of her sudden anger. How dare he relate her age to her marital status! No man was ever criticized for waiting to marry; indeed, they were often congratulated by their comrades for having avoided the “trap” for so long. Annoyed, she moved quickly out of his embrace.

John quickly realized the mistake he'd made and he hastened to make amends. “I know you're not like other women, CC. You're different…special. That's why I love you and want to make you mine.” Going to her, he tried to take her back into his arms in hopes of smoothing things over, but she would have none of it.

“No, John.” CC coolly avoided his embrace. “And if your feelings are as serious as you say, then maybe we shouldn't continue to see one another.”

John's declaration that he wanted to
make her his
grated on her nerves. She would belong to no man. The man she would marry, if indeed she ever did marry, would have to accept her as an equal, no less. She would not be chattel. His superior attitude erased the slight guilt she'd been feeling and convinced her more firmly than ever that John was not the right man for her.

“But, CC…” he came toward her.

She held up a hand to stop his progress. “I don't want you to think that there's more to our relationship than what exists openly between us.”

John stood silently for a moment staring at her. She was lovely, his heart's desire, and yet his wounded pride almost prodded him to agree to end their relationship. His heart, however, refused to even consider an existence without her.

His dark eyes fixed upon her, John spoke slowly. “I love you. I have for a long time.”

Though she longed to erase the past few minutes and resume their friendship as it had been, CC knew it was impossible and that from now on things between them would never be the same.

“I'm sorry, John, but I'm just not ready to think about marriage yet. You, of all people, should know that.”

John grimaced inwardly at the truth in her claim. He knew very well in what direction her interest lay, and it certainly wasn't in hearth and home. “But don't you realize that the danger is growing? It isn't safe for you to be so involved any longer.”

Again, his domineering attitude screeched through her. Who was he to tell her what she could and could not do?

“John. I will not allow you or anyone to dictate my life. If you insist on continuing to try to do so, I'll put an end to our relationship right now,” CC told him emotionally. “And as far as the movement is concerned, I've been involved in it for a long time, and I intend to stay involved.”

John sighed. He loved her. He wanted to marry her and keep her at home having his children, away from the violence that was sure to erupt soon, but she would have none of it. Resignedly, he realized that he would have to bide his time and hope that she would someday come to accept that he was right. Until then, he would continue as he had, loving her, but never having the right to claim her as his own.

“All right,” he agreed in temporary defeat. “You've made your point and I see no reason to discuss this any further.”

“You understand?” she asked hopefully, for he had been a good friend and she did not want to lose his companionship.

“I'm trying, CC. Believe me, I'm trying.” He sounded disgruntled.

“Thank you, John.” She smiled sweetly at him, and as usual, John felt himself melt before her considerable charms.

“I almost forgot….” John spoke in low tones, forcing his thoughts back to reality. “Tomorrow night, eleven o'clock, the room in back of the stables of the Green Dragon Inn.”

Her expression grew suddenly serious. “I'll meet you as usual,”

“Fine,” he agreed as he realized that there was nothing more to discuss. “Well, I'll be going.”

“John?”

He gave her a quizzical glance.

“You'll still be my guest at our ball, won't you?”

Heartened that she still wanted him to escort her, he smiled. “I wouldn't miss it.”

“Just remember,” she confided. “Father made out the guest list, and everyone he invited is a loyalist.”

“I'll be my usual Tory self,” John assured her, for he'd become a near master at hiding his true feelings toward the king and Parliament.

As she crossed the room to accompany him to the door, John was unable to resist one last kiss, and he took the opportunity to boldly sweep her into his arms.

“John…” she gasped, surprised by his ploy.

“Just because I accepted your refusal gracefully doesn't mean I don't want you, CC,” he murmured as his lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss.

CC was not a stranger to his embrace, and she remained passive, finding his kiss neither exciting nor repulsive. When he finally released her, she moved away, his kiss leaving her womanly depths untouched by desire's fiery blade.

John, however, was not so unaffected by the exchange, and his breathing was rasping as he convinced himself that someday she would finally admit to loving him. He left the house then, murmuring in quiet promise, “Tomorrow…”

As the door closed behind him, CC hurried down the wide center hall to her father's study, where she knew she would find him awaiting her. As she reached the door, she met Gilbert, their butler, on his way out.

“Be sure to bring him in to me as soon as he arrives,” Edward Demorest was saying.

“Yes, sir,” came the polite reply as the servant held the portal wide for CC.

“Father?” she spoke softly and hesitated only briefly until she saw his welcoming smile.

At fifty-three, Edward Demorest was the picture of good health, and as always, CC marveled at the vitality he exuded. He had been a dashingly handsome young man, as evidenced by the oil portrait of him that hung over the fireplace in the parlor, and his dark good looks had not faded with the passage of time. Trim and fit, his black hair streaked with silver, his hazel eyes glinting with good humor, he was still a very attractive man. He'd been a widower for some ten years now, and more than a few of the ladies had set their caps for him. Edward, however, was not interested in remarriage, though he cut a wide swath through their numbers. CC's mother, Sarah, had been his soul mate. No one else would ever be able to take her place in his affections.

“Come in, come in.” Edward waved his daughter into the private haven that was his study.

CC smiled engagingly as she entered the room. “Do you have a business appointment soon?”

“Yes, Lord Kincade arrived in Boston yesterday and we've a meeting set up for this afternoon,” he explained.

CC couldn't help but wrinkle her nose slightly in distaste at the thought of the English nobleman. Though she'd never met this Lord Kincade, her encounters with other egotistical, supercilious members of the
ton
had left her completely unimpressed. CC hoped that she would be able to avoid this newcomer when he finally arrived, for no doubt he would be just as foppish as all the others she'd known.

“I see.” Her reply did not hide her already established dislike of the as yet unseen Englishman. Her father cast her a sharp glance.

“He will be here on business.” His tone was sharp, as he had intended it to be. Edward knew of his daughter's low opinion of the members of the peerage, and he had no desire for a possible run-in between the newly arrived Kincade and outspoken CC.

“Then I will endeavor to stay out of your way,” she teased with a lightness of spirit.

“Vixen,” Edward growled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Now, to matters at hand…?” He led the conversation, anticipating good news regarding a change in her present marital status.

“What matters, Father?” CC kept her features schooled into a mask of wide-eyed innocence as she strolled casually to the floor-to-ceiling casement window that looked out over their spacious garden.

“Blast it, girl! Don't play coy with me!” Edward had known her far too long to be taken in by her mischievous ways. “Tell me what you told the young buck! Am I to have a chance at grandchildren soon or not?”

“I'm afraid it's not quite your time yet, Papa,” she told him kittenishly, and she was rewarded with a frustrated groan. CC couldn't stop the chuckle that threatened, and she laughed as he scowled at her blackly. “Oh, Father,” she sighed as she came to stand behind him, looping her arms affectionately around his neck and giving him a sweet hug, “I'm sorry, but I'm just not ready to marry yet.”

“Sorry, bah!” he snorted in derision. “You're twenty-two years old, my lass. Well past the time for marriage! Why, when your mother was your age, she had already been married four years and had borne you.”

“I know that, Papa, but I am not Mother,” CC answered gently.

“It wouldn't hurt for you to try to be more like her. She was a wonderful woman, and I shall always mourn the day she was taken from me,” he related in a solemn tone as he thought of his dear departed wife, Sarah.

CC tightened her arms about his neck for just a brief instant in sympathetic understanding before moving to sit in the chair opposite his desk.

“Well, you might as well tell me everything,” Edward grumbled, studying the beautiful woman who was his daughter. How like her mother she looked, he mused as he gazed at her with loving eyes. Her hair was long and russet. As was her custom during the day, she'd pinned the sides up and away from her face, framing her perfect features with a tumbling array of thick, glossy curls. Her eyes were the mirror of her soul, as her mother's had been. Vividly green and reflecting a quick, keen intelligence, they could be sparkling with joy one moment or flashing fire the next. Her complexion was perfect, her nose slender, her mouth wide and given to easy laughter.

Edward knew CC was a woman to be reckoned with, for she was an educated woman of opinion. He also knew that he was the one responsible for having raised her to think as freely as she did, and he was now ruing the day. Though he loved her as no other, they seemed at odds on just about every subject. True, CC always gave the appearance of being in deference to his masculine mandates, but Edward somehow sensed that it was all an illusion, that underneath she held very firm convictions from which she would not be swayed—a less than desirable trait she'd inherited from him. His daughter was not a malleable female, and that thought bothered him. The ability to surrender to a man's will and submit to him as head of the household was the main quality that most men wanted in a wife. He wondered if his child would ever find her mate.

“What did the poor lad do that made you reject him?”

“Nothing, and there's not a lot to tell, Papa,” CC began. “You know that John and I have been seeing one another for some time now.”

“Yes, yes…so go on….” he encouraged impatiently.

“So, unknown to me, John's feelings had developed into something deeper than friendship,” she explained.

“And yours didn't?”

“No. I don't love John,” she replied honestly. “He's a good man, and kind, too, but I feel nothing more for him than friendship.”

Edward thumped the top of his desk loudly. “Don't you see, woman, sometimes love comes after marriage! John's a good man. You said so yourself. His affiliations are the same as mine, and he brings in a good living. He'd be the perfect husband for you! He's not bad-looking either, if I'm any judge of men, and you'd certainly make handsome babies together.”

CC flushed at his last statement. “I will not marry a man I do not love, Father. After all, you were in love with Mother when you married her, weren't you?”

“I give up!” he muttered in exasperation, and she immediately brightened at the thought.

“Do you really?” she queried hopefully.

“Never,” he came back quickly, smiling despite his heartfelt disappointment. “The right man for you is out there somewhere.” He steepled his fingers in a thoughtful gesture as he regarded her.

“I don't doubt that for a moment, Papa,” CC agreed easily.

“Just don't wait too much longer to find him! I do want to live to see my grandchildren.”

She laughed lightly. “If that's your only worry, I'd say I have a good long time to work with.”