Whisper of Scandal (21 page)

Joanna laughed. “Did you all survive?”

“The food almost killed us even though the ice did not,” Alex said. “We were lucky to escape with our lives.”

Joanna shivered, as though David’s shadow had fallen between them. Alex did not speak, but she knew that he, too, was thinking of his friend. Joanna snuggled closer to him, trying to banish the ghosts. For a moment he did not respond and there was a stiffness in his body, as though he was resisting the intimacy, but then he sighed and drew her close, his cheek against her hair. The night was getting cooler. She shivered a little.

“Are you cold?” Alex asked.

“No,” Joanna said. “I am afraid.”

“Of the journey?”

“Of what is waiting at the end of it,” Joanna said. “There is so much that is unknown.” She tilted her head so that she could look at him. She did not know why she was confiding in him. Perhaps it was the rum loosening her tongue. He was not a man who invited confidences,
she thought. He was too reserved, too well defended to approach. The sun had dipped behind the mountains now and the polar dusk was full of long shadows. It was impossible to see Alex’s expression.

“You have set so much store by finding Nina and giving her a good home,” he said. “It would be strange if you did not have some anxiety now that you are so close.”

“Anxiety!” Joanna said before she could help herself. “I am terrified!”

She thought he was smiling. “There is no shame in being afraid,” he said. “You are venturing into the unknown. You are very brave, Joanna.”

Joanna was so startled that for a moment she was silent. “Do you think so?” she said slowly. “I thought that venturing into the unknown was to sail the seven seas and trek through uninhabited lands and that courage was to shoot dangerous wild beasts.”

Alex laughed. “You mistake. Courage is facing the things that frighten us, the things that we do not want to do. Courage is mastering that fear, not allowing it to dictate to us.” He shifted. “You did not want to have to come here, but you came. You did not let your fear dictate your actions. That is true bravery.”

Joanna shivered at his words. She was feeling anything but brave. Alex took his coat off and placed it about her shoulders. Immediately she felt enclosed, protected in some mysterious way by his presence. The coat smelled of him, of cedar cologne and cold Arctic air and she wanted to draw it close about her even as she made a feeble attempt to give it back.

“Oh, no!” she said as she saw him in the crisp white
of his shirtsleeves. “You will literally freeze out here without a jacket!”

“We shall go below shortly,” Alex said. He bent his head to kiss her again and this time the warmth unfurled in her stomach in a slow curl of sensual pleasure. Navy rum rations, she thought hazily, were a wonderful thing. They lulled her fears and smoothed the hard edges from the guilt that stabbed her each time she thought of her deceitful bargain with Alex.

“I am glad that you came with me,” she whispered.

She felt him go very still for a moment and then he rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Truly?” he said. There was an odd note in his voice.

“Truly.” She felt very warm and grateful and happy. “Thank you. You’re prickly,” she added sleepily, irrelevantly, raising a hand experimentally to rub the stubble on his lean cheek. “A gentleman always shaves, no matter the situation.”

She thought she heard him groan at the soft touch of her fingers on his skin.

“Enough,” he said, capturing her hand in his and kissing her fingers. “It is not my style to make love to a woman who is three sheets to the wind, but you do tempt me.”

“I am not so very foxed,” Joanna whispered.

“Then you give me no choice.” He had swept her up in his arms even before she had caught her breath and was carrying her away from the light and the laughter and the noise, down the companionway into the secret darkness below. Joanna’s world rocked with the gentle shift of the ship on the swell. There was hot excitement inside her and Alex’s arms about her were like steel, sure and hard. He placed her gently on her feet outside
the cabin and pressed her back against the door, kissing her, his tongue stroking deeply. The pleasure rippled through Joanna and she made a soft sound of need in her throat. Alex held her trapped against the door and kissed her long and lingeringly until they were both gasping for breath.

He flung open the cabin door and they tumbled inside. Joanna looked at the tiny box bunk.

“How do we—” she started to say.

Alex silenced her with a finger against her lips. He slid his hand into her hair, tilting her head up so that he could kiss her throat. Joanna could feel his smile against her skin as his lips grazed the hollow behind her ear. His teeth nipped the tender line of her neck and she squirmed. She wanted to tell him to be careful he didn’t tear the Gothic-style ruffles on her bodice—and God forbid that he rip one of the flounces on the hem of her gown—but the worry was lost in a tide of sensation so sweet and fierce that she shook with it.

Alex pushed the bodice of her gown down to free one of her breasts and held it in his palm, tugging gently on the nipple, rolling her between his finger and thumb until she groaned. In all her twenty-seven years, Joanna thought faintly, she had had no idea that her body could provide her with such exquisite delight. It was a shocking revelation. She was afraid that her legs were going to give way completely.

Alex bent down and slowly circled the nipple with his tongue. Joanna gasped and he drew her into his mouth, biting gently down, sucking and teasing until she moaned. It was such delicious torture. She could feel her muscles jump and quiver, feel a heat in the pit of her stomach that built and burned. And then she felt him lift
her until she was sitting on the high edge of the bunk, and he fell to his knees and his hands were beneath her petticoats, hot on her skin through the silk of her drawers. He tugged the ribbon at her waist and Joanna felt the material ease and then he was pulling them down. He pushed up her skirts with all their ruffles and flounces so that they foamed over the white skin of her thighs, leaving her silk stockings with their pretty red ribbons exposed and above that the pale expanse of her naked skin.

It was too much. Joanna’s body felt hot and tight and ready to explode. She grabbed Alex’s shoulders, her fingers digging into him through the material of his shirt, and dragged him to her so she could kiss him again, her mouth slanted against his, her nipples pressed hard and tight against the barrier of his chest. Without breaking the kiss Alex stood and Joanna stretched up, raising herself to keep her mouth beneath his and keep that sweet, demanding contact. The bunk was high and she was straining to maintain the connection between them, bracing her hands behind her on the bed, her muscles taut as she tilted her head back to take Alex’s kiss.

“Don’t move.” His whisper was laced with wickedness. He eased back and Joanna opened her eyes to see that he was looking at her and his gaze was intent and hot. In a flash she knew what she must look like, her hair spread about her bare shoulders, one breast cupped by the neckline of her gown and thrust forward by the position she was in, as though begging for his hands and his mouth on her. She gave a little moan and Alex lowered his head and kissed the underside of her breast, running his tongue up to the nipple and making
her catch her breath on a scream. The skin all over her body rose instantly into goose bumps, sensitive to the slightest touch.

She felt Alex’s hands move, heard something give, then felt him pull her forward so that she was sitting on the very edge of the bunk. His fingers were against the softness of her inner thigh, parting her to his touch, drifting over her hip and her stomach, returning to her cleft to torment and tease. She shifted forward instinctively and then he was pressing inside her slick heat and she gasped in relief. She strained forward wanting all of him, but he held back. Each gentle sway of the ship against the tide eased him a little deeper inside her then out, until Joanna started to wish they were in the teeth of a gale again. She wanted more than this gentle torment. She wanted all of him. She squirmed, but the position he was holding her in made it impossible to drive him deeper. His hands were on her bare thighs above the stockings, forcing her legs wide apart, and she had to keep herself braced against the bunk in order not to tumble backward. She was shaking all over, the muscles in her stomach tightening and jumping with intolerable need.

“Alex! No, no more!” She almost felt like crying. It was too much. The shimmer of intense desire and the force of such overwhelming emotion threatened to overcome her.

“Please,” she begged. “I cannot bear it.”

Alex leaned forward and kissed her lightly and the movement brought his body more tightly into hers and she whimpered with dazed pleasure. He slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted her, forcing her at last to take all of him, driving in and pulling out, hurling her body
into a tender, terrifying climax. She was conquered, mastered, and yet she felt powerful and triumphant and shaken to the core by the strength of the emotion within her. Tears prickled behind her eyelids and she did not understand why. Her body felt soft, satiated. She felt Alex’s hands move over her, undressing her, easing her onto the bunk where he lay curved behind her, his chest against her back.

“We can sleep like this,” he said. His arms were about her. It felt astonishingly comfortable. She had not felt so safe in a very long time.

T
HE BUGLE CALL AT SIX O’CLOCK
in the morning almost split Alex’s head in two. “Goddamn Purchase,” he muttered under his breath. He rubbed his face. Joanna had been right last night. He was in dire need of a shave.

Alex rolled over. Joanna was lying beside him in a tangle of honey-brown hair, and the bugle call had not even caused her to stir. She felt so warm and soft and smelled so sweet that for the first time in his navy career Alex was tempted to ignore reveille and stay exactly where he was. For a few moments he simply lay watching her. There was something so trusting and vulnerable about Joanna in sleep, so different from the guarded woman who hid beneath that superficial carapace. He kept getting glimpses of a different Joanna, but the more he grasped after them, the more they seemed to slip from his reach. He was not even sure why he wanted to know her better. He had gone into this arrangement asking nothing of her except that she provide him with an heir and make no emotional demands upon him, but it was proving impossible to remain so detached. Last night, he thought, he had not even been thinking about conceiving his heir. Good old-fashioned lust had driven such thoughts from his mind and it had been Joanna he had wanted, not the son she would give him. And yet it was not even as simple as lust. He was committed
somehow when he had sworn he would not be. He had thought the extent of his obligation would be no more than a practical matter, ensuring Joanna’s physical safety on the journey, but from the moment he had kissed her the day before, it had turned into something far greater than that.

“I am glad that you came with me,” she had whispered the previous night and he had felt as though all the breath had been knocked from his body when he had heard those words. After she had spoken he had waited to feel the familiar chafing of responsibility and the urge to be free. It had not happened. Hell, he was even beginning to like the thought of being with Joanna, and that was more frightening than the most dangerous physical adversity he had ever been in.

His body tightened with something that felt like tenderness. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he put out a hand to touch Joanna’s cheek.

He touched fur instead. Recoiling, Alex saw that Max had at some point insinuated himself between their bodies and was curled up in a warm, happy, snoring ball. The dog opened one eye, gave Alex a look of profound triumph and went back to sleep.

The bugle call sounded again, its note sharp and urgent. Something was wrong, Alex thought. He rolled out of the bunk and stood up, grabbing his clothes and dressing haphazardly. He could hear shouts from above now and the pounding of feet. Joanna had woken and was sitting up in the bunk, the covers clutched to her breast. She looked confused and sleepy and scared.

“Alex?” Her voice was blurred with sleep. “What is happening? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alex said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
He bent to give her a hasty kiss. Remembering that it took her about two hours to dress, he added, “Perhaps you should get up, though.”

He staggered up on deck and emptied a pail of cold water over his head. Dev, looking as fresh as a daisy, Alex thought sourly, pressed a beaker of cocoa into his hands.

“You’re too old to drink so much rum,” his cousin said unsympathetically. “You look like death. Or perhaps it is that you are too old to indulge in other excesses—”

“Enough,” Alex snapped. He looked across to where Owen Purchase was deep in conversation with the coxswain. “What’s the emergency?”

“Sea ice,” Dev said succinctly. “The wind turned a half hour ago and the ice is forcing us in to the shore.”

Alex walked across to the side. The wind was cold and keen today and the sky gray. He could see the difficulty; the northwesterly was forcing the slabs of ice ahead of it, pushing them toward the ship, fencing
Sea Witch
in against the rocky shoreline. A mere fifty yards to the west the water was clear, a mocking, shining path away from danger. But they could not reach it and within a half hour, he thought, they would either be completely trapped in the ice or they would be wrecked on the rocks.

“What do you think?” Purchase spoke urgently to him from close by.

“We don’t have any choice,” Alex said grimly. “If we wait, we’ll either run aground or be crushed.” He glanced across to the open sea. “We’ll have to cut our way through to open water and we’ll have to do it now.”

He heard the captain draw a sharp breath. “I’ve never
done that before,” Purchase said. “It’s bloody dangerous. The ice is unstable—”

“I’ve done it before,” Alex said, “and it isn’t as dangerous as sitting here waiting to be shipwrecked.” He nodded to Dev. “Bring the saws.”

As Dev sped away, Alex turned to see that Joanna had come up on deck. He stifled a groan, wishing he had told her to stay in the cabin rather than get up and get dressed. He had no wish to deal with female hysterics at a time like this.

“Alex!” Joanna came across to him and put a hand on his arm. Her face was pale. “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Alex said. “Go back below.”

He spoke abruptly and he saw Joanna’s chin come up and her face set into stubborn lines. There was a spark of anger and obstinacy in her blue eyes.

“No,” she said. “I shall not. Not until you tell me what is happening.”

“The ship is trapped in the ice, Lady Grant,” Purchase said. “Lord Grant is going to cut us a path through to the open sea.”

Joanna flicked a look at him then focused back on Alex’s face.

“Isn’t that rather dangerous?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Alex said. “It is. But if I don’t do it we will all perish.” He heard Purchase give a murmur of protest, not at the truth of his words but at the brutal way he had expressed himself.

Joanna’s face paled even further. Her eyes burned as bright blue as sapphires now. Alex watched her, waited.

“You might drown,” she said, and it was not a question. She looked again from him to Purchase and beyond
them to the waiting crew: Dev with the ice saws, men with ropes and ladders. Alex saw her shiver as she picked up on the tension in the air. His blood beat hard with anticipation and the need to be gone, to get the job done.

“I had not thought that I would be a widow again so soon,” Joanna said. “It is not to my liking.” She grabbed Alex by the coat and pulled him close. Her breath warmed his lips.

“Be careful,” she said in a fierce whisper. There was something in her eyes that made his heart leap. She pressed a kiss on his cheek, released him and moved over to the rail, making it plain that she was prepared to stay there all day.

The men were grinning and Purchase gave him the ghost of a wink. “Seems you have something to come back for, Grant,” he said.

“Yes,” Alex said. He glanced across at Joanna. Someone had brought her a blanket and a cup of cocoa and she sat huddled up in a corner of the deck, a small but dignified figure. She was watching him. Something caught and burned inside him.

Something to live for…

For too long he had not believed there was anything truly worth living for.

Dev threw the rope ladder down and he went over the side.

J
OANNA WAS COLDER THAN
she had ever been in her life. She felt as though her hands, despite their fur-lined gloves, had been frozen to the ship’s rail like a bird on a twig. The chill was bone deep, enough to turn the blood cold.

She could not believe that the beautiful country she had fallen in love with the day before had turned into this spiteful, gray wilderness with a lowering sky and a biting wind edged with snow. Their progress out of the ice field had been tortuously slow. She had watched, her heart in her mouth, as Alex and Devlin had balanced on the ice floes, cutting what looked like a tiny clear path through the slabs that imprisoned them. As the water opened up, Owen Purchase eased the
Sea Witch
forward inch by slow inch, the sails trimmed to catch a breeze to help them whilst at the same time trying to make sure the wind did not drive them farther into a frozen wasteland. Every creak, every groan of the ship seemed magnified as the ice scored along their sides and closed in behind them as they passed. And always out of reach, the tantalizing clear blue ribbon of water that would see them to freedom.

“You have been out here all day,” Lottie scolded, appearing at one point in three layers of sealskin and with a bowl of hot broth for Joanna clasped firmly in her hands. “Come belowdecks before you catch an ague.”

“I cannot,” Joanna said, teeth chattering. “I need to know that Alex is safe.”

Lottie had gone away and Joanna had drunk the broth and tried to warm her hands on the bowl, and then, despite the cold, she thought she must have fallen into a doze, for she was not sure how much time passed. She was awoken by a grinding, splintering crash; the ship shuddered and then lurched forward as the wind cracked in the sails overhead, pulling them at last into the open sea. There was a shout from the bows, men were running, the rope ladder went down again and then Alex and Devlin were pulling themselves back over the side,
and the crew were laughing and slapping them on the back as the ship turned into the wind and set a course north.

Joanna took a step forward, stumbling a little with cold and stiffness. Across the wide deck Alex saw her and stood quite still for a moment. Then he was beside her, grabbing her by the arms, fury in his eyes, but beneath it puzzlement and another emotion that made her heart miss a beat.

“Have you been out here all day?” he snapped.

His coat was soaking wet and ice-cold beneath Joanna’s fingers. There were snowflakes on his eyelashes.

“Yes,” Joanna said.

“You could have frozen to death!” Alex roared. A muscle was working in his jaw. “Have you no sense?”

“About as much as you,” Joanna said, “standing here berating me when you should be belowdecks getting out of those wet clothes.”

They stood staring at one another for a second in bafflement and anger, and then Alex grabbed her and kissed her so hard her head spun, then more gently, tenderly, the kiss melting into a conversation without words that made Joanna unutterably glad that she had not broken faith with him. When he let her go Alex kept hold of her hand, turning it against his heart. He did not say anything and he was still frowning, but he did not let her go.

Joanna felt icy cold and burning hot both at the same time, vibrantly alive, her emotions in turmoil. She knew she was falling in love with Alex. Her head had warned her against it but her heart had not been listening and had taken the leap. Even as she felt his fingers entwine with hers and watched the snowflakes
melt against his cheek she felt herself sliding deeper, more helplessly in love.

He is another adventurer,
whispered the voice in her head, and even though she knew Alex was not like David, she shivered. Not so long ago she had wanted him gone so that she could forget the wicked deception she was practicing on him. Now she ached for him to stay with her even though she was haunted each day by the knowledge that their marriage was based on a sham. She was trapped.

T
WO DAYS LATER THEY SAILED
into the shelter of Isfjorden.

“We shall be starting at seven tomorrow morning,” Alex said, drawing Joanna to one side after the customary evening dinner of stewed beef and biscuits. “The ice is too thick at present for us to sail into Bellsund Sound, so we will drop anchor here and travel overland.”

Joanna, he thought, looked distinctly displeased. “Seven o’clock?” she said, sighing. “To think that in London I rarely set foot out of bed before eleven!”

“I’m afraid that you will have to be a great deal more prompt than that tomorrow,” Alex said. “And you and Mrs. Cummings will have to travel in the supply cart. It will not be what you are accustomed to, but there are no carriages—and barely any roads—in Spitsbergen.”

“I shall ride,” Joanna contradicted him. “I have had the most perfect habit made for me in London and I do not intend to waste it. There are breeches so I can ride astride, and a fitted military-style jacket—” The rest of her description was totally lost on Alex, banished by the vision that her words had conjured up.

Joanna was going to be wearing breeches and riding astride?

In all his plans and thoughts about this trip and the difficulties he would encounter along the way, Alex had not calculated that there would be any fashion-induced ones. He looked at Joanna and tried to imagine the effect that her figure in a pair of breeches and tight jacket might have on Purchase’s crew. He was all too aware of the effect that the mere thought was having on him. For three nights he had slaked his lust in his wife’s bed and yet the desire he felt for her was not diminishing in any way. In fact, since the day she had stubbornly insisted on keeping watch whilst he and Dev had freed the ship from the ice, his need for her had been edged with something far deeper and more complicated. Even before that he had felt himself slipping into uncharted waters and had been powerless to prevent it. Now his need for her drove him to seek out her company even if it was only to take a turn about the deck together in fine weather, or to talk, or to play chess. She always beat him. He was resigned to it by now.

“I had better ask Purchase to send only those men with us who are old or infirm,” he said now. He looked at her and shook his head. “We shall see how long you can endure being in the saddle,” he added. “This isn’t like riding in Hyde Park, you know.”

Joanna arched her brows at him in a look of challenge he was beginning to know. “You said yourself that I was a country girl,” she said. “I’ll wager I can last as long in the saddle as you.”

“Fifty guineas says you shall not,” Alex said.

She turned and put both hands against his chest. “I’ll win,” she promised, smiling. “Again. You’ll see.”

The following morning Alex wished he had wagered on how long it would take Joanna to get ready rather than on whether she would be able to ride for the entire day. Purchase sounded reveille at six; an hour later there was no sign of either Joanna or Lottie Cummings.