Rebel Dreams (23 page)

“You’re safe! Oh, thank God, you’re safe! You have no idea . . .”
Amanda’s voice trailed off as she hugged her daughter.

Upton’s words, in contrast, were less than cheerful. “At
least you had the sense not to elope, but you could have left some lie to
placate Amanda until you returned. You both ought to be ashamed of yourselves.
Hampton, I trusted you to act with a little more circumspection than this.”

Evelyn disentangled herself from her mother and squeezed
Alex’s hand, but he spoke before she could silence her uncle’s obnoxious
tirade.

“My apologies to all of you. There was a slight accident
that forced us to stay longer than we planned, and we couldn’t make it back
before dark.” He made a gallant bow in the direction of Mrs. Wellington. “You
are already aware of my feelings toward your daughter. Under the circumstances,
I think it is time to cry the banns.”

Amanda burst into more tears and George looked placated.
Only Evelyn appeared shocked, then grim.

“I told you, Alex, I will not marry you or anyone else. Now,
if you will excuse me . . .” She made an abrupt curtsy and
started up the stairs.

Below her, she could hear Alex reassuring her family.

Let them go on with their plans. They could not force her to
say the vows.

***

The first banns were cried that Sunday. Eager well-wishers
flocked Evelyn after church, most of them female and casting jealous glances in
Alex’s direction. Evelyn walked away as soon as was possible. She had begged
him to be reasonable, but Alex had remained adamant. There was no point in
arguing with Uncle George. Already he was smugly accepting congratulations on
his future nephew-in-law.

Evelyn considered appealing to her mother, but Amanda was eagerly
contemplating returning to England to visit her family. Her mother would be
free to return home anytime she liked, but Evelyn would not. Marriage was for
life. If Alex returned to his tomcat ways, she could do nothing but contemplate
killing him. It wouldn’t serve. She knew that this marriage was wrong, but she
could not tell her mother why.

Alex was the only one who understood, but he wasn’t
listening. She told him he would have to drag her tied and bound to the altar
and hold a burning brand to her back before she would agree to the vows. He
only replied that he would wait until she was in prison for a week and then ask
her again.

Evelyn still refused to sell the warehouse. Her uncle was
apparently waiting until she was married, so he could appeal to Alex. If they
married the day the final banns were cried, there would be a full week before
the fine had to be paid. They didn’t know her very well if they thought that
day would come.

Alex once again offered to remove himself to an inn to avoid
the appearance of any further impropriety, but Amanda refused to hear of it.
Evelyn suspected her mother enjoyed having a man to cook for and flirt with
again. Alex obviously soaked up the attention with great pleasure.

From what she had heard of his mother, Evelyn couldn’t deny
him this small pleasure. It just made things difficult for her to come down
each morning to the sight of Alex eating breakfast with her family, sharing in
the family discussions as if he were already one of them. His smile for her was
always welcoming, but she still felt the wariness behind his dark eyes.

Sometimes Alex ate dinner with them. Other times, he was off
about the town with his new acquaintances. Evelyn found it fascinating that he
could share dinner with the acting governor at his mansion one night and attend
a meeting of patriots in a tavern the next.

Frequently when he came home from these meetings, he would
sprawl on the sofa in the front room and tell her all that had occurred,
embellishing the tale with his opinions along the way. She loved those moments,
because they could argue on equal, impersonal levels, exchanging ideas instead
of violent emotions.

Evelyn listened eagerly to the reports of what the patriots
planned for the “Stamp Act Congress,” but she could see little hope. The hated
law would go into effect in less than three weeks. The congress of colonial
representatives was only beginning to gather. The distances involved would
prevent any immediate action.

The tension in town was unbearable, with militia marching in
the streets, the governor hiding in the harbor, and British soldiers stationed
at the batteries. The patriots might declare themselves free, but there was a
long distance between talk and action.

At night, she lay in bed wishing Alex would sneak into her
room to drive away the frustrating needs that left her sleepless and miserable.
But he kept a circumspect distance, only stealing an occasional chaste kiss
when they were left alone.

When Alex didn’t return at a reasonable hour on the night
before the next banns were to be read, Evelyn retired in the fruitless hope of
getting some sleep. She needed more time to make the memories of their
lovemaking go away, she told herself. Once she was behind the cold, hard bars
of prison, surely these feelings would dissipate.

She was still awake when she heard unsteady feet outside.
Her room overlooked the front door, and she leaned out the window to look.

It didn’t surprise her to see Alex staggering up the walk,
but his disheveled appearance frightened her. The fringed black cocked hat he
had worn when he left was no longer in evidence and his expensive silk
stockings were ripped. The sleeve of his good navy broadcloth coat had been
pulled from its seams. His unruly dark hair spilled from a half-untied ribbon.

Evelyn meant to turn away in disgust, when Alex moaned and
bent over the frostbitten flower garden by the door. Without a second thought,
she ran down the stairs. Whatever had occurred this night, Alex had been hurt
by it.

Garbed only in a flannel nightrail, she opened the front
door to find Alex still bent over the ground, vomiting into the dirt. Evelyn
knelt beside him, searching his coat pockets for the large handkerchief he kept
there. Finding it, she helped him dry his mouth, then lent her shoulder to bring
him to his feet.

Without a word, they shuffled into the kitchen where the
fire had been banked hours before. Alex dropped into a chair while Evelyn
stirred the fire and pumped water for him to wash in. Unsympathetically she
gave it to him cold, deciding he deserved the sting. He cleaned himself without
protest while she brewed a pot of coffee. When he was done, Evelyn brought the
lamp to the table to better examine the extent of his injuries.

The wound he had sustained in August was nearly healed and undamaged
by tonight’s altercation. One eye had turned puffy and a cut on his chin had
stopped bleeding. He closed his eyes as she searched for other damage.

“I’ll be fine, Evelyn,” Alex said unsteadily, clasping her
fingers to stop her.

She returned to the fire and the coffee, busying herself with
cup and saucer, sugar and cream. “Is brawling in taverns one of your vices too?”
she inquired, not accusingly.

Alex took the cup she offered and warmed his hands around
it. “I’ve done it before,” he agreed. “I try not to make a habit of it.”

“Wise man.” Pouring a cup of the strong brew, Evelyn sat
opposite him. She was shameless in her desire to be with him, even when he was
drunk and battered and in a foul mood. “I suppose there was a good reason for
this particular fracas.”

Alex shrugged and sipped at the coffee. “At the time, I
thought there was. Alcohol gives a man a different perspective.”

“I can imagine.” When he did not share the topic for battle,
Evelyn headed for the door. “If you think you will be all right, I’d better go
to bed now. I don’t want to wake Mama.”

“I’ll bank the fire in a minute. Go on up.” Alex purposely
stared into his mug and not at her as she departed.

A while later, Evelyn heard Alex’s tread on the stairs.
Evidently he had removed his shoes so as not to disturb the household. She
pulled the covers up and stared at the door as she followed his progress down
the hall.

It didn’t surprise her at all when the door opened to reveal
Alex standing there.

Alex removed his ruined coat and waistcoat and held them
in his hand as he propped his shoulder against the door jamb.

He had punched a lout at the tavern for saying the same
things about Evelyn that he himself had thought a few months ago. He generally compromised
ladies rather than defended their honors, but he had learned tonight how it
felt to be on the other side of the fence. He didn’t even want men
looking
on Evelyn in lust if he could
help it.

There would be a couple of soldiers reporting in sick in the
morning. Still, his stomach heaved at the image of what would happen should Evelyn
insist on this farce of going to jail guarded by those same soldiers with
brutish minds.

He let his gaze sweep over the narrow bed and its occupant.
Evelyn raised herself on one elbow and returned his gaze.

“May I come in?” He had tried his damnedest to play the part
of gentleman these last weeks, but worry and frustration had finally worn down
what little restraint he possessed. Drinking to assuage his fears had not been
an intelligent choice, Alex concluded as he watched the blanket slip from
Evelyn’s shoulders. The gentleman was gone. In his place was a man who
desperately needed what she had to offer and feared he could not have it.

He was inside the room and closing the door before Evelyn
answered. “You can’t come in here,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.” Alex sat down on
the narrow edge of the bed and stroked her hair. “I need you, Evelyn. Don’t
make me go.” The whisper was more like a growl.

He leaned in, cupping her head to keep her from retreating. He
brushed his lips across her cheek before settling on her mouth. Her response was
as intense and desperate as his.

“Alex, we can’t, not here.” She caught her breath on a gasp
as Alex caressed her breast.

“Let me show you.” He captured her protesting lips again and
lowered her to the bed, until they lay side by side on the narrow mattress.

He lifted her hair and sensing her acceptance, breathed a
sigh of pure joy. Someday she would be brave enough to come to him, but not
just yet. Alex was relieved that she allowed this much liberty. He stroked the
side of her breast, down to the valley of her waist, then pulled her hips
toward his. “I just want a little, love, just enough to hold me until I can
have you every night.”

***

Lud, but his words were seductive! Every night like this.
Imagination could run rampant with such bliss, so Evelyn banished the notion.
She couldn’t banish what he was doing to her, however. Alex’s very masculine
body in her childish bed was an overwhelming incongruity. His caresses recalled
previous passion, and the coffee taste of his mouth raised shivers of hunger.
With the wall at her back and Alex in front, there was no escape even if she so
desired. And once she felt the urgency of his need, her desire was for anything
but leaving him.

She slid her hands over his shirt to locate the buttons of
his breeches. He uttered a muffled groan as her fingers rubbed against him, and
when she tried to remove her hand, he caught it there, pressing her fingers
against his heat.

“It’s all right for you to touch me, just as I like to touch
you. But I’m like to burst from the need of you, love.” Alex’s voice was almost
rueful as he traced his kisses from her jaw to her throat.

Evelyn tentatively explored the place where he held her hand.
The knowledge that she had the power to make him as crazy as he made her was thrilling.
His breath played across her skin as he unfastened her gown and trailed his
kisses to the aching peaks of her breasts. In a dreamy lethargy, she offered
herself to him. When he took her in his mouth, the blood in her veins turn to
molten lava.

Their clothes became disarranged enough to feel flesh
against flesh and to escalate urgency to a burning need. Lying on her side
facing him, Evelyn bit her lip as his hardness slid between her thighs. When he
lifted her knee to give him entrance, she arched her hips to ease his way.

He took her swiftly, with all the need she had felt in him
when he first appeared at her door. Evelyn followed him without hesitation,
taking him deeper, reveling in his strength as he drove her to boundaries
previously unreached—while they bit back their cries. She had never known it
could be like this, like a tumultuous storm that dissolved the world in one
mighty blast, until they floated weightlessly in each other’s arms.

Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks once her body achieved
release. She had wanted this so much, she could not be angry that he had broken
her family’s trust to come to her. She bent her head beneath Alex’s chin, and he
rubbed lightly at the soreness until she glowed with desire again. His breathing
was labored once he extricated himself and smoothed her gown back over her
legs.

“Now there are only nine hundred and ninety-eight more ways
to teach you.” His breath teased along her ear.

“That’s not possible,” she argued despite herself. “I cannot
possibly think of more than four or five.”

“And I doubt that more than ten or twelve are physically
practical, but I’m willing to try them all and invent some new ones if you are
willing. Hold me just a little while, and then I’ll behave and return to my room.”
He released her hands to pull her close and sleepily trace a pattern of kisses
across her cheek.

“Alex, we cannot do this again,” she admonished, not as
severely as she ought when it felt so good to be in his embrace. “What if there
were a child?”

“I hope there is,” he informed her. “I fully intend to watch
you grow big and round with my child. I want it more than anything else I can
think of at the moment.”