Silver Sea (38 page)

Adrienne's will prevailed, however, and stirred the embers of her anger. "You were never this dull-witted in England, sir! How do you think I felt when you invited no one of meaning except two beloved servants to our wedding? I expected to find at least my father-in-law and Zachary among the guests, but instead there were two strangers who treated me as if I were an interloper!"

He frowned. "My father can't be riding back and forth between Tempest Hill and Bridgetown every day! And Zach had to oversee the work in the fields. You have no idea how far behind we are. Why I had to go back out myself this afternoon!"

"What a terrible hardship that must have been!" Adrienne shouted sarcastically, whirling on him. "Do you take me for a fool? You would have grasped at any excuse to separate yourself from me today!"

"You are the one who rushed away to your room before I could even propose a toast to my new bride!" he shot back.

"Don't imagine that I can be confused. You know me better than that." To her horror, Adrienne felt her eyes pool with hot tears. "Today I felt as if I were some dirty little secret that you were sweeping under the rug. Your planter friends imagine that you have only married me because you couldn't have Eloise!"

Nathan looked stunned at first, then furious. "You—you—Oh, for God's sake, stop crying! You don't know what you're talking about."

"I am waiting for your explanation."

Running a hand through his hair, he muttered, "I haven't worked it out yet in my own mind."

"You mean you don't want to tell me about her."

"No, it's that I'm not certain what to say yet." The anger seemed to drain out of him at the sight of her anguished face. "Adrienne, it's not that I'm ashamed of you. Never that. It's marriage that worries me."

Her stomach hurt. "Leave me alone."

"This is a damned odd way to have a wedding night," Nathan complained. He opened the door to their shared dressing room and looked back at her. "A lot of women marry men much worse than I, you know."

"And you're modest as well," she parried sarcastically.

"You jest? Perhaps you have forgotten that you belong to me now."

"I curse your bloody men's laws! I belong only to myself. Get out!"

He stared back at her, eyes flashing. "I trust that you remember where to find me, my dear."

"Snow will fall on Barbados before I come to your bed!"

"An empty threat." A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, and Adrienne blushed. As he made his exit, Nathan added, "Good night, for now... Mrs. Raveneau."

* * *

Lonely and hungry, Adrienne lay awake in her bed and wondered what time it was. Moonlight made luminous pools across the sheets. Was it past midnight? Hours seemed to pass as she tried in vain to fall asleep.

How had their relationship come to this? Could this be the same man who had once worked at appearing so earnest in his spectacles and unfashionable clothes? Adrienne's heart ached for Nathan Essex and the carefree humor and antagonism that had existed between them at Harms Castle.

She closed her eyes and imagined that they were in Lady Thomasina's library again, laughing and laboring together over her ridiculous Systems. Then they had walked together in the garden maze and eaten side by side in the servants' kitchen. And in spite of Adrienne's protestations, he had helped her contend with the eccentricities and hidden dangers at Harms Castle.

Nathan had always been an enigma, yet she had instinctively trusted him. Their lives had been entwined since the moment of their meeting on Oxford Street, when they had stopped traffic.

We are married! Adrienne thought. Whatever the reason was for Nathan's difficulty in opening his heart and giving up his freedom, she knew that he was not really a cold man. She'd seen gentler emotions in his eyes too many times. Sighing, she sat up and slipped her feet over the edge of the bed. A small lizard darted out, just grazing her toes, and disappeared onto the balcony.

Adrienne smiled. She slipped a Circassian wrapper over her nightgown, brushed her hair, and went into the dressing room with a pounding heart. There was a faint strip of light under the door to Nathan's bedchamber, and as she raised her hand and knocked, Adrienne felt a warm surge of joy.

"Nathan! A gruesome-looking reptile has just come out from under my bed!" She did her best to sound frightened. "Can I come in?"

"Yes—the door is open."

Adrienne entered slowly, brimming with mixed emotions. The room's lemon-hued walls were burnished with candlelight and shadows, and the big four-poster Hepplewhite bed was empty, its sheets in disarray. The room smelled faintly of cheroot smoke.

"Here I am."

She looked around the door and found him seated at his desk near the window, writing in the same dark blue leather volume she had seen at Harms Castle. Mahogany shelves, brimming with books, lined the wall behind him. There was a small glass of brandy at Nathan's elbow, and although he was still clothed, his shirt was open and his dark chest exposed.

"It must have been a lizard that you saw—hardly huge, my dear. I find it hard to believe that this was your first glimpse of one. They're as common as crickets on Barbados."

"Well... this lizard looked bigger to me."

He drew on his cheroot, eyes narrowed. "They are both harmless and helpful; they eat the insects. Were you really afraid?"

"Now that you put it that way... perhaps not. He must have startled me in the darkness." Pinned by her new husband's gaze, she swallowed. "I can't sleep."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Please." Adrienne was giddy to have received such an invitation. She hurried over and took the cane chair near his.

Nathan poured a little brandy into another glass, handed it to her, and toasted with a sardonic flourish. "Well, here's to our wedding night. And here's to our marriage. It's going awfully well so far, don't you think?"

His razor-sharp tone brought tears to her eyes. "I—gather that you blame me? I can speak only for myself, but I am feeling sad... about today. I expected to see your father, and certainly Zachary, at our wedding. Their absence seemed to be a way for you to let me know that this marriage is not—valued by you."

"Well, that's clear enough." Nathan was at a loss. Now what should he do? If he let his own heart open in response to her eloquent appeal, what would happen? "I do see your point. I suppose I thought that we had a different sort of arrangement and that you understood." He felt like the worst sort of cad, especially when he saw her beautiful green eyes swimming with tears.

"I did agree, but I don't know if I can fulfill that part of our bargain." Her lower lip trembled. "I am a real person, not a hollow shell. I know that I adored the idea of coming to this wild, exotic place and entering into another adventure with you, but I find that I am... lonely."

"I regret to hear it." Tentatively Nathan skirted the edges of emotion. "Perhaps you are right, and I am at fault for this botched wedding day. I—ah, haven't been very nice to you, have I?"

"Well, we have both been unkind. I sometimes wonder if our relationship has changed into a battle of wills."

Emboldened by the brandy, Nathan felt a sense of relief as they talked. "Adrienne, I am sorry if I have done a bad job of making you feel welcome at Tempest Hall. Zach and my father have both been at me about it, but I've found it keenly difficult to let someone else into my life... especially someone like you."

"I am grateful for your apology." It made her heart pound harder to look into his eyes without glancing away and to recognize the embers there. "If I were a different sort of woman, you'd have an easier time of it, wouldn't you? You should have married a bit o' muslin who would content herself with managing the house, picking flowers, doing needlework, and plotting the takeover of Barbadian society." Adrienne's dimples winked invitingly.

"Yes. I could ignore her except for the interludes of conjugal bliss."

She blushed under his suggestive gaze. "Why didn't you marry someone like that, then?"

"I didn't want to many at all, and as I recall, neither did you! It's one thing to care for one's friends and relations, but quite another to have a woman in my dressing room, at my table, and in my bed, daily, for the rest of my life!"

"And in your library," Adrienne added impishly. She sipped the brandy and luxuriated in the sensation of happiness gently creeping back into her heart. All was not lost after all. "You seemed to think it would be worth marrying me to have my father's land. Didn't you? Or did you imagine that you could put your wife off to one side and tend your marriage at intervals, the way you've been handling other parts of your life—like Tempest Hall?"

"I admire the subtlety with which you ply your rapier, my dear," he murmured, all irony. "You find the mark when your victim least expects it."

"I am only speaking the truth. I know you better than you think, Nathan. And I like you, when you aren't trying to build a wall between us." A tide of emotion rose in her again. "I—I have missed my friend."

He nearly put his hand to his heart, for she had struck deep with those last innocent words. "We have shared many good times, I will admit."

"Are we never to laugh again? Will pride, or fear, keep us from enjoying the camaraderie of months past?"

"Well... Adrienne, it is more complicated than that. We have shared much more than laughter, if you will recall."

She dared to reach her hand out toward him, her fingers slim and pale in the candlelight. A tear spilled onto her cheek. "It is only as complicated as we choose to make it. Nathan—we could be happy!"

His heart pounded in his ears. Every fiber of his being yearned to be close to her again. He reached toward her outstretched hand with his own dark fingers, captured it, and brought her onto his lap. Slowly he enfolded her in his arms, and a shudder ran through him. Nathan couldn't remember ever feeling anything as powerful, not even when he had battled for his very life, for this delved into his unacknowledged, deepest needs.

Adrienne took the liberty of resting her cheek against his hair, basking in the sensation and scent of him. For once, she didn't want to ask about Eloise. "While lying awake in my bed tonight, I was thinking about our walks in the garden at Harms Castle. Do you remember the time, at dusk, when you introduced me to the gloaming?"

"Yes." It was hard to speak. Memories rushed through the cracks that were opening in his heart. "You know, I'll have to show you our gloaming here on Barbados. The golden light is even richer and more magical... and then the sunsets over the ocean are beyond belief."

"I long to walk on the beach again. And swim."

"I might be able to arrange that, if you promise me that you won't wander off alone again!" He couldn't be angry; she smelled too sweet, too achingly familiar. Her wrapper and nightgown were tissue-thin, and the warm outline of her breast pushed against his chest. There was an insistent tightening in his groin.

"I remember the first time I saw that ship's log, open in your room at Harms Castle. I had a feeling then that there was much more to Nathan Essex than met the eye."

"It was stifling to pretend to be someone else," he reflected. "The only time I could bring out a few of my own things was late at night, in that room. I was horrified to see you there, peeking, dear chit." Nathan smiled. "You never could keep your nose out of other people's business. Why do I find that so charming?"

Adrienne ran her fingers over the hand she loved so well. "You aren't being nice to me just because—"

"No. But—" His tone was playful. "—it is our wedding night. What better time could we choose to make peace?"

"You're sly."

"Don't you want to seal our truce by making this a real marriage?"

"I—" She melted when he traced the curve of her throat with his lips. "Yes. But... you must promise me that you won't turn away from me in the morning. Nathan, can we strive to be husband and wife?"

He blinked. "I'm not certain how much I'm capable of. I'm bound to make brutal mistakes—"

"I don't expect anything as deadly dull as wedded bliss!" she rejoined, laughing. "All I ask is that you not shut me out again."

"I'll need courage," he admitted. "I'd rather fight a duel than trust my own cursed heart."

"Then be my friend. Fight with me if you must, but be my friend again." She blinked back more tears. "I prize my independence too, you know, but there have been times when I have looked into your eyes and have seen the best friend of my life."

Fear stabbed him again. It was a lot to ask of him, to be her best friend—
and
her lover
and
her husband! "I'll try. That's all I can promise." Gently he gathered her closer and stood up. "My father said the first step is the hardest."

Adrienne wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to the moment. The feeling of this tall, strong, raven-haired man carrying her as if she were a child was the stuff of her dreams. Every aspect of the bedchamber was romantically masculine, including the mosquito netting he'd tossed over the canopied four-poster. With infinite care, Nathan set his bride down on the edge of the feather tick and slowly drew back the rumpled sheet, watching for her reaction.

There were brightly colored flower petals strewn across her marriage bed. It was a lavish invitation to love. Adrienne made a sound of delight. "Nathan! How—" Slowly her catlike eyes narrowed. "Did you know that I would come to you?"

"How could I know that, unless you imagine that the lizard was in my employ?" He was smiling. "All right, I had an idea that you might come."

"And... you wanted me to?"

"What man would not?"

"Some men would have forced the issue, as you reminded me earlier this evening. It is your wedding night, after all." She cuddled against his chest. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"I may have faults, but taking a woman against her will is not one of them." As the hunger began to build within him, Nathan stripped off his shirt and boots before sitting down behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. "I do have one question for you, my bride."