For Love of the Earl (7 page)

"We're are not stopping by Father's on the way to a duel to ask him for ammunition for said duel.
 
I don't think that would go over very well."

"Why not?
 
You have always been good at making Father laugh.
 
Tell him a joke, and he may hand you some shot.
 
It sounds like an excellent plan."
 

Alec did not bother looking at his brother.
 
He had spoken the very truth that now plagued him.
 
He had made his father laugh, had made him love him.
 
But he could not make Sarah laugh.
 

The carriage came to a stop in the grove just off the path.
 
The area was completely sheltered by a landscaped hedge and was a favorite for dawn appointments.
 
Another carriage set on the other side of the grove with the Earl of Wheaton's colors on it.
 

Nathan eyed the carriage through the window and asked, "Do you think he'll realize there isn't a bullet in it?"
 

Alec did not bother to give that question an answer.
 
He grabbed up the pistol case and alighted, Nathan right behind him.
 
The Earl of Wheaton emerged from his carriage, striding across the grove to meet them in the middle.
 
The earl's normally rather handsome face was purple along one side and his eye was swollen nearly shut thanks to Alec's right cross.
   

"Wheaton," Alec said when the man was close enough.
 

"Stryden," Wheaton nodded, "My second, Mr. Fletcher, perhaps you know him?," he asked gesturing behind him, "He is getting the rapiers out of the carriage. I hope you don't mind that I prefer that we use the set.
 
I realize some men have their own rapiers, but this set was specially made for occasions such as this."
 

Wheaton's good eye moved back and forth as if to indicate the situation in its entirety.
 

Alec nodded, feeling his teeth grind.
 

"Of course.
 
Would you excuse us?" He said more than asked, grabbing Nathan's arm and dragging him back toward the carriage.
 

"Rapiers?
 
Rapiers?" he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.
 
"Why did I spend so much time searching for these damn things?"
 
Alec flung the pistol case back into the carriage, not caring in the least what happened to it.
 
He slammed the carriage door shut for emphasis.
 

"I guess I misunderstood the arrangements," Nathan said, shrugging.
 

"You misunderstood the arrangements?
 
Are there any other arrangements you might have misunderstood?
 
Such as are you sure this is a duel to first blood or a duel to the death, because that seems like a very important arrangement not to misunderstand!" Alec accented the word by poking his brother in the chest.
 
"You are the worst second in the history of dueling!"
 

Nathan stepped in front of him, blocking out the rest of the grove.
 

"Alec, what's wrong?" Nathan whispered.
 

Alec massaged his forehead.
 
The headache was a hurricane wreaking havoc in his skull.
 

"I don't want to make a habit of dueling to protect my wife's honor," he whispered, "But I can't make her laugh," he said, sensing how the words did not make sense but continuing anyway.
 
"I don't know what else to do."
 

"What do you mean you can't make her laugh?" Nathan asked.
 

Alec's memory flashed an image from a long ago time, another time when he had not made Sarah laugh.
 
A time when things had not been as serious as they were now.
 
But he couldn't tell Nathan about that memory.
 
He had not even told Sarah for he was certain if she knew, she would hate him even more than she did now.
 

"I just can't," Alec said.
 
"Let's get this over with."
 

Alec pushed around his brother and strode back to the middle of the grove.
 
Wheaton waited with a sword case.
 
When Alec approached, he unlatched it and extended the case toward Alec.
 
Alec slipped his hand around the hilt of one of the swords nestled inside and pulled it free.
 
He stepped back, completing a few experimental thrusts with the weapon.
 

"Now then, this is to the death, correct?" Wheaton said, taking his sword out of the case held by Mr. Fletcher, who, unfortunately, still looked intoxicated from the night before.

Alec casually turned his head in his brother's direction feeling a murderous rage welling up inside him.
 
Did one go straight to Hell for fratricide?
 

Alec turned his attention back to Wheaton.
 
He didn't really feel like killing the man.
 
He was an all right bloke, after all.
 
Wheaton had been pampered a bit too much, perhaps, but he didn't drink overmuch or gamble or ruin debutantes.
 
He just had his nose stuck too far in the air to notice the merits of anyone below eye level.
 

But more importantly, did Alec feel like being killed?
 

No, he did not.
 

He felt like living happily ever after with his wife.
 
He felt like going home right now, sneaking into her room through the connecting door of their chambers, and slipping into bed beside her.
 
He felt like waking her up with a kiss that said everything he didn't know how.
 
If he were killed today, he would never be able to do any of those things, and that made him very, very unhappy.
 

But what if he did kill Wheaton?
 

Would that make Sarah love him?
 
Would she want him in her life?
 
Would she laugh?
 

Probably not.
 

If he killed Wheaton, he would probably start more whispers and that was sure to make Sarah hate him even more.
 

And his wife would still have no need of him.
 
She would still look down her nose at him for being unnecessary, unneeded and unwanted.
 
A burden the War Office made her carry.
 

So with a heavy heart, Alec raised his sword and fought to stay alive just so Sarah could continue to look down her nose at him.
 

~

On a ship bound for France

April 1815

"But you didn't kill him," Sarah whispered.
 

Alec looked at his wife who was sitting next to him on the bunk, obviously being careful not to let any part of her touch him.
 

"How do you know?" he asked with a touch more accusation than he intended.
 

Sarah's face colored a deep shade of pink.
 

"I followed you," she said.
 

Alec swallowed the instant burst of anger.
 

"You followed me?" he whispered because he really felt like screaming.
 

Sarah nodded, not looking at him.
 

"I thought maybe she would be there, and I would be able to see what she looked like."
 

"Who would be there?" Alec asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
 

"You know," Sarah said, shrugging one small shoulder, "Your mistress."
 

Alec bobbed his head more than nodded.
 

"And why would you want to see my mistress?"
 

Sarah shrugged that shoulder again, and Alec wanted to touch her.
 
He wanted to hold her in his arms, so she wouldn't feel so insecure.
 
He didn't like her feeling insecure.
 
She was beautiful and smart and funny and...nice.
 
Sarah was nice.
 
Above everything else, that was what he loved most about her.
 
She had never really been nice to him though, but that didn't really matter.
 
He had seen her be nice to other people, had seen her innate caring sense just seep out of her into others.
 
Had seen the way she didn't know she did it, and how other people were affected by it.
 
And now, he felt like giving her a little of her own caring, so she wouldn't look so sad.
 
If he couldn't make her laugh then maybe he could let her know he cared.
 
Even if he wasn't sure how.
 

"There was no mistress," Alec whispered as Sarah continued to look so heartbreakingly miserable.
   

"I didn't know that."

"If there had been a mistress, why would you have wanted to see her?"
 

Sarah looked anywhere but at him.
 
He raised his hand and caught her chin, turning her head toward him.
 
She looked at him briefly and then shut her eyes.
 

Alec was not going to have this conversation without her looking at him.
 
And if they couldn't talk, there was really only one other thing that he wanted to do just then.
 

He kissed her.
 

He kissed her softly, gently holding her head between his hands, so she couldn't pull away from him without ripping her ears off.
 
She didn't respond, but he didn't know if that was because she didn't want to or because she was too scared to.
 
He traced the line of her lips, and finally felt a tremble pass through her, but she still didn't participate in the kiss.
 
She stayed still beneath his hands, her lips unmoving.
 
He coaxed her lips open with pressure from his.
 
One of her hands came up to his chest, but it didn't push him away.
 
So he changed the angle and invaded her mouth, invaded her resolve in order to crush it.
 
She moaned softly, and he thought she leaned into him.
 

But then she tore herself away from him, and he did nearly rip her ears off.
 
She stood up, ungracefully as the ship pitched beneath her, and slid over to the corner.
 
She wrapped her arms around herself.
 

He hated it when she did that.
 

"Sarah-"

The sound of the lock scraping back had him lurching out of his seat.
 
Sarah turned around and took one step toward the door, but he was already in front of her.
 
He stretched out his arms to both sides, brushing the walls of their prison and effectively caging Sarah behind him.
 

Harpoon Man stuck his head in the door.
 

"C'est," he began but seemed to change his mind, "There is une problem."
 

Sarah ducked her head under Alec's arm.
 

"Quelle problem?"
 

Harpoon Man backed up a step, withdrawing his head from the crack in the doorway.
 
He frowned at Sarah and carefully closed the door.
 

Sarah removed her head from under Alec's arm, and Alec heard her take a giant breath.
 

Alec turned and looked at her.
 

"What?" she said when she realized he was looking.

Alec shook his head.

"I only asked him what the problem is," she said as he continued to look at her.
 

She opened her mouth a third time, but he cut her off.
 

"Why did you want to see her, Sarah?"
 

Her mouth remained open and unmoving a full five seconds after he finished his question.
 
And then she swung around to face the corner again.
 

So he grabbed her and spun her back around.
 

"Sarah, answer me."
 
He paused, watching her nostrils flare.
 
"Please."

Her eyes went dangerously flat after that, and her nose stopped flaring.
 

"I wanted to-" she began, staring hard at his chin.

He shook her a little when she stalled.
 

"I wanted to see what...what..."
 
She shrugged her shoulders beneath his hands.
 
"You know," she finished, looking down at her feet.
 

Alec leaned his head down, resting his forehead against hers.
 

"Sarah, I-"
 
He didn't know what to say.
 
What could he say that would convince her that it was all right to talk to him?
 
To really talk to him?
 
To pour out her heart to him?
 
But what?
 
Normally, he would have delivered an inappropriate jest just then, but Sarah didn't laugh with him.
 

"Sarah," he finally said, "when I was young, about eight or nine, I fell out of a tree and landed on Nathan, who was trying to catch me."
 

Sarah's head moved, and Alec straightened to let her look up at him.
 

"I squashed him, Sarah.
 
He was unconscious for at least a minute after I landed on him.
 
And I shook his shoulders and slapped his face, but he wouldn't wake up.
 
I thought I'd killed him, Sarah.
 
And I was never so scared in my life.
 
But then he did wake up, and he called me a name, and I started to cry.
 
And then I yelled at him for almost dying on me.
 
By then Father and Jane had heard me screaming and had come running to see what was wrong.
 
I had broken Nathan's arm, but he was alive, and Father carried him back to the house, and everything was fine.