Andrea Kane (13 page)

“What is it? I asked not to be disturbed!” Geoffrey Cassel, the Earl of Sudsbury and governor of Upper Canada, slammed his fist on the desk and glared at the nervous footman standing in the doorway.

“I am sorry, m’lord,” the footman replied uneasily. “But this diplomatic pouch was just brought by military vessel, dispatched with great haste from England. I thought you would want to see it at once.”

Geoffrey stalked over and snatched the pouch from the footman’s hands, dismissing the servant with a cool nod. Impatiently he returned to his study, withdrew a key from the top drawer of his desk, and unlocked the pouch with combined anticipation and apprehension.

Expecting an important communication from the government, Geoffrey was startled to find a letter penned in his wife’s hand. With a muttered oath, he scanned the contents of the frantic message. As he read, his lips thinned in anger.

The urgent missive from his countess was typically and glaringly devoid of details. But apparently his blasted, foolhardy chit of a daughter had run off at the very onset of her first Season, without a word to anyone and with only a short note in the way of explanation. According to his wife, Constance, Alexandria was supposedly on her way to Canada, of all places. Geoffrey scowled, shaking his head. Well, if she was coming, he would deal with her … oh, yes he would. This would be the last impertinent act his daughter would ever commit.

Drake stood quietly, unseen, watching Alex’s radiant expression. She was glued to the railing, as she had been throughout the week since Canada had been sighted. Now she breathlessly watched the Long Sault Rapids rush past the narrow canal that carried
La Belle Illusion
along. Her reaction to the beauty around her was like a rebirth to him. To see each sight through her eyes was to see it for the first time, the only time.

He frowned. His exuberant passenger had a way of reawakening him to life’s offerings … and awakening him to a vulnerability he never knew he possessed. There was a rare and beautiful innocence about her, a purity of both body and soul that had prompted Drake’s emotional withdrawal. He told himself that he had kept his distance to preserve her honor. But in his heart he knew that avoidance was his only defense against his need for Alex. And the tactic had been unsuccessful, for despite his apparent indifference, he craved her body and her spirit far more than he dared admit, even to himself.

With a will of their own, Drake’s legs carried him to Alex’s side. He leaned against the railing, pointing into the distance. “Look,” he said softly.

Alex was unprepared for the visual impact of the lush green velvet patches of land that greeted her eyes. Hundreds of them, all different in size and shape, were sprinkled throughout the Saint Lawrence as it approached Lake Ontario.

“Oh, Drake,” Alex breathed in wonder. “What are those?”

“The Thousand Islands, princess. Lovely, aren’t they?”

She stared. “There are hundreds of them!”

“Actually, there are close to two thousand of them in all, each one unique. There are many legends about then-creation. Magical, romantic legends.” He felt the islands’ natural splendor pull at him more intensely, envelop his senses more fully than ever before, this time, with Alex beside him.

“Will you tell me the legends?” She looked up at him.

God, those eyes, those silver-gray, fathomless depths, clear as the sea, turbulent as a summer storm. He could drown in them.

Drake swallowed hard. If he wasn’t careful the walls he had erected these weeks would topple all around him. He couldn’t let that happen, not at this point. They were too close to their destination.

“Another time, princess.” His voice was gruff as he struggled to control his emotions. “Right now I have to concentrate on steering the ship into Lake Ontario.”

Alex studied Drake’s handsome features, this time seeing through his intended brusqueness. The realization shouldn’t have mattered to her … but it did. With a warm glow, she reveled in the intuitive knowledge that, despite his struggle to the contrary, Drake cared. Somehow she had reached the impenetrable Captain Barrett.

“All appears to be peaceful in Little York,” Smitty observed. “Yes” was the terse response from the helm.

Smitty studied Drake for a long moment. Despite the calm that prevailed as the brig moved through Lake Ontario toward the docks of York, Drake had been moody and silent since they sighted the modest buildings and sandy beaches that marked their destination.

His political concerns were not responsible for his foul temper. His impending separation from Lady Alexandria was.

Smitty frowned. He was torn between annoyance at Drake’s damned stubbornness and hurt at the agony that tormented Drake’s soul.

No father could love his son more than Smitty loved Drake, nor could anyone better understand the reasons for his protective walls. But everything had changed now. Smitty suspected that Drake knew that only too well, and he was fighting it.

It was time to break a cardinal rule. Drake’s happiness was at stake.

“You don’t have to let her go, you know.”

The softly spoken words made Drake tense.

“Let it be, Smitty.”

But Smitty could not. “Do not let your bitterness blind you to the truth.”

“I’m too damned well aware of the truth.”

Smitty suspected that they were speaking of two different truths. “She is not like other noblewomen,” he persisted.

Drake gave a harsh laugh. “I know that, Smitty. And she is even more dangerous to me because she is different. For, in the end, she would be my downfall, and that is something I will never allow.”

Smitty knew Drake was remembering another time, long ago, and a young boy’s pain and disenchantment with the world. The damage would be near impossible to undo, but Smitty had to try. “She cares for you, Captain,” he told Drake softly, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “And you for her.”

“She doesn’t even know me,” Drake countered.

“Doesn’t she, my lord? I believe she knows you quite well, indeed.”

“But not
who
I am. To Alexandria it would make a world of difference.”

“Then tell her and see.”

Drake shook his head. “There is no need. In but a short time she will be with her father and we will be on our way back to England with our timber. It will be over.”

“Will it?”

The astute question pierced Drake like a knife. No, it wouldn’t be over. For even now, as he stared out at the approaching shoreline, all he could see was her laughing face, her small, utterly feminine body hidden beneath those ridiculous men’s clothes. She had worked her way inside him; there was no denying it.

It was up to him to pry her out.

“Once we dock in York, I will need you to supervise the unloading of supplies.” Drake’s abrupt change of subject did not surprise Smitty. It was the captain’s way any time their conversation became too personal. “I must deliver the missive to Brock. Then I will return and escort Alexandria to her father’s home. That should be some reunion,” Drake added with a scowl.

Smitty looked anxious. “Do you think Lord Sudsbury will be very angry with her?”

“Furious.”

“Lady Alexandria is only now beginning to suspect the unpleasant reception that awaits her.”

Drake’s look became tender. “Alexandria is too naive for her own good. Disastrous outcomes never seem to occur to her. It’s one of the things …” He caught himself before he had finished the thought. “Are the men prepared to dock?” he asked instead.

“Yes, Captain.” Smitty knew that, for now, the subject of Drake’s feelings for Lady Alexandria was closed. But Smitty had not had his final say, nor had he given up hope. He had never expected the resolution to be easy. If only there were more time …

For the first morning in weeks Alex had no desire to be topside. She sat on the berth in her cabin, rising only to give an occasional glance out the porthole. Within hours she would be in York with her father. Canada … freedom … a new life. At last she would be able to fulfill her dream.

Then why was she no longer sure she wanted it?

She curled up in a small ball on the bed, tucking her feet beneath her. Leaving the crew of
La Belle Illusion
would be more difficult than leaving her family had been. In truth they were more like a family to her than her own. Here among these rough-edged men she had found a warmth and companionship that she had never known existed. They were like brothers to her, and wise, compassionate Smitty was like a father.

And Drake.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an act of instinctive self-protection. So much remained unfinished between them; so much would be left unknown.

Perhaps it was better that way.

And perhaps not.

She heard the men call out to one another as the ship was maneuvered into port, heard the running footsteps, felt the gentle impact with the dock. She braced herself, waiting for Drake to come below and tell her it was time to go. Still, when the knock on the door did come, she jumped.

“Yes?”

Smitty opened the door. “Your pardon, my lady,” he began, as Alex rose from the bed. “We have arrived in York. The captain had urgent business to see to, but he will return shortly to escort you to your father’s residence. During his absence he thought you might enjoy a bath and a change of clothes.”

“A change of …” For the first time in weeks Alex remembered her unorthodox state of dress. She looked panic-stricken. “Oh, Smitty, what will I do? My father would never accept this attire on a woman, especially his daughter.”

Smitty had never seen her so distressed. Even the turbulent storm and the primitive conditions during the months at sea had not unnerved Lady Alexandria as did the thought of her father’s reaction to her unseemly attire. The realization made Smitty dislike Lord Sudsbury immensely.

“Do not fret, my lady,” he soothed. “If you will look in the trunk I believe you will find the solution to your problem.”

Curious, Alex opened the trunk and gasped. There, atop the men’s clothing, was her gown, freshly laundered and accompanied by all her undergarments.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, fingering the dark muslin. “How did it get here?”

“I brought it down this morning while you were finishing your game of whist with the men.”

“But Drake told me it was ruined!”

Smitty’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, well, I suppose he was wrong. It was salvable, after all.”

Alex’s flashing eyes told him she did not believe a word of the ludicrous story. “I will have bathwater sent to you directly, my lady.” He ducked quickly out the door to avoid any further confrontation. He did not envy Drake upon his return.

Drake was in a dark mood when he came back up on deck an hour later. His meeting with Brock had been most unsatisfactory. While the charismatic man had thanked him profusely for his services, he was not in the least inclined to discuss the contents of the message with Drake. Therefore, Drake now knew no more than he had in March when he left England.

Without pausing to discuss the meeting’s outcome with Smitty, Drake scanned the bustling deck for Alexandria. She was nowhere in sight. Where the hell could she be? The sudden thought occurred to him that she might have gone in search of her father on her own. With Alexandria anything was possible.

He took the steps to the berth deck two at a time, marched to the captain’s cabin, and flung open the door.

In the middle of the room, deeply immersed in a tub of warm water, was the object of his search. She started at his unexpected entrance, her half-closed eyes flying open in surprise.

“Drake! For goodness’ sake, what is it?” She crossed her arms modestly over her naked breasts, stunned by the look of intense concern on his face.

She was fine. The realization dissolved his worry instantly. She was also stark naked and more exquisite than his most erotic fantasy had allowed. Desire exploded like cannon fire through his bloodstream, nearly driving him to his knees.

“I didn’t see you on deck. It made me uneasy. I …” He broke off, unable to continue. With one swift gesture he kicked the door closed behind him, then moved to the side of the tub.

Alex felt her face growing warm. “Well, I’m perfectly fine, as you can see,” she answered in a soft, breathless voice. “So, if you will excuse me, I’ll continue with my bath … Oh, Drake … don’t.”

He had dropped down beside the tub and was sliding his fingers through her thick, wet hair. “I have to,” he whispered. “It may be the last time I get to hold you.”

He covered her mouth with his. Her lips were warm, wet, trembling. He groaned, half lifting her from the water to pull her against him. The water sloshed all around them, drenching his white lawn shirt and trickling to the floor in thin streams.

Alex caught his arms for support. “I’m getting you wet,” she whispered inanely, unable to catch her breath.

“I don’t care.”

“But Drake … your shirt …”

“Fine.” He held her with one strong arm and reached around with the other to tear off his sodden shirt and drop it on the floor. “There. Now you need not be concerned about my ruined shirt.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but pressed her soft, pliant body against him.

It was a mistake. He knew it the moment he felt her soft breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest. It was the first time their naked skin had touched. And he was unprepared for the impact.

Alex’s soft moan intensified the violent shudder that seized Drake’s body as wild, scorching flames leapt to life, igniting an inferno between them that could not be extinguished. He could feel her heart hammering against his, her hold on his forearms tightening, then sliding up to his shoulders.

“Oh, Drake,” she whispered in a soft, husky voice that shattered his control.

Without a word he brought her face up to his, parting her lips and moving his mouth back and forth over hers in a kiss of savage need and possession. He took her tongue, her mouth, her breath, and made them his. Gently, almost reverently, he slid his hands up and down her back, stroking her, urging her closer, feeling her body shiver with each touch.

This time was different. This time Alex was responding to him with the same utter desperation, the same bottomless craving that gnawed at Drake’s soul—because this would be the last time.