The Marriage Bargain (16 page)

Didn’t she know that it was all he could do to keep his hands from touching her, his lips from kissing her, and his body from taking her?

If he did that now, he might lose himself in her. And he could not risk that. He would not risk that. For the truth of the matter was that Beckett was harboring a secret.

He had a bad heart.

It was bad because it was always getting him into trouble, developing feelings for women who would only hurt him.

And he couldn’t let Isobel know the truth, for if he let her into his heart now, he knew he’d never get her out.

After a breakfast of pastries and delicious exotic fruit, Beckett decided to take Isobel on a small tour of the St. James district. After he swung himself up onto his mount, and she onto hers, they set off down the grassy tree-lined road.

He glanced over his shoulder to see her riding behind him, the wind playing with the curly tendrils of her hair. Isobel had forgone a bonnet today, telling him that she preferred going without. To tell the truth, he preferred it also. The sight of her hair, arranged simply and much looser than she’d worn it in London, made him long to see it flowing wild and free about her shoulders.

Beckett slowed his stallion and let Isobel’s mare walk beside him. The two horses greeted each other, their noses nuzzling slightly whenever they could.

“They seem quite fond of each other, do they not?” he asked.

“They do, indeed.” Isobel smiled.

They stopped and let the horses communicate in their secret way. “Do you think?…” Isobel began.

“What?”

“It sounds silly, but… do you think these two could be in love?”

Beckett watched the horses’ heads rub against each other and listened to their quiet whickering.

“Isobel, I would daresay that these beasts are irrefutably, indisputably, and most conclusively, in love.”

Isobel smiled and the sight was so radiant it threatened to blind him.

“Then they are fortunate creatures.”

“Some might disagree with you, there.”

“Like who?”

“Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet and Ophelia. Othello and Desdemona. Love didn’t make them very happy, did it?”

“No. But it made Beatrice and Benedick happy. Not to mention Orsino and Viola, Orlando and Rosalind, and Titania and Oberon. So there.”

Beckett found himself smiling. “It seems you are having the better of this argument, madam. Shall we let the lovers alone then, and go exploring on foot? Mr. Cobb told me there were some very interesting caves down there by the beach. What do you say? Are you game for a little adventure?”

“There are very few things that could frighten me from it.”

“Then follow me.”

Beckett dismounted and tied his horse to a bush. He reached up to help Isobel down from her mare, then tied it next to his. Taking Isobel’s hand, he led her through the tall grasses toward the full sound of crashing waves.

They came around a bend to see the white sandy beach that stretched from the nearby cove as far as the eye could see. The turquoise water caressed the sand in frothy waves.

Beckett stopped near a jagged rock formation, resting his boot on the bottom of it. Above, a huge cave towered majestically over the rocks and beach below.

Isobel joined him. Before them, the entrance of the cave gaped like an enormous mouth.

“Might you be brave enough to go in there with me, my dear?” he said, flashing her a challenging look.

Isobel met his gaze evenly. “Of course. After all, someone has to protect you. Lead the way.”

Beckett started up over the rocky terrain to the entrance. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following, and was surprised to see her only a few steps behind him. She was a brave little thing, wasn’t she? Brave enough to challenge and escape a murderer. Brave enough to marry a stranger who might have turned out to be no better. She obviously felt she could take care of herself.

As they reached the cave mouth, he noticed that the air coming from the opening smelled rather earthy and pungent. It was strong but somehow pleasant.

“I should warn you, Isobel,” Beckett said as he helped her over the rocks. “From what I know of them, caverns can be treacherous places. So watch your footing and your head. Stay close to me and don’t make any noise.”

“Why should we not make noise? There is no one in there, surely.”

Beckett shrugged innocently. “For all we know, this is a pirate lair. They could be in there right now burying their treasure.”

Isobel put her hands on her hips, looking unamused at his teasing, yet cautious just the same.

Beckett laughed at her expression. “I thought you said you weren’t afraid.”

“And so I am not. I am sure that I am not.”

“You are quite sure that you’re not, then?”

Isobel huffed in exasperation and stepped away from him.

Beckett chuckled, then began searching the ground. “Cobb said that he left a torch here. He told me these caves are sometimes used by the natives in those rituals they have. Perhaps we’ll find a few skeletons. What do you think? Ah!” Beckett picked up a well-used torch and reached into his pocket for a match to light it. The acrid smell of the burning torch mixed with the cave’s unusual odor, but again, Beckett found it invigorating.

“Shall we?” he held his hand out in invitation.

Isobel took a deep breath and lay her hand in his. For an odd moment, Beckett found himself recalling their joined hands as they were pronounced man and wife.

“I should like to see Miss Cordelia Haversham go into a cave like this.” Isobel said, her eyes glittering with challenge. “I would wager she’d have none of it.”

Beckett cocked an eyebrow. “May I remind you that you have yet to enter it yourself.”

Isobel smiled back, calmly. “Quite right. I’ll remember those words when I’m forced to drag you out bodily, sir, when you yourself are undoubtedly overcome with an attack of nerves.”

He grinned.

Slowly, they entered. Beckett’s torch cast shadows everywhere, but provided enough light to show the cave’s incredible interior.

Beckett had never seen anything like it. The whole of the cavern ceiling was comprised of what looked like huge, dripping icicles, which seemed to glitter and glow with unusual, otherworldly colors.

“What on earth are those?” Isobel asked softly.

“Stalagmites and stalactites, if I remember my lessons correctly.” Beckett whispered to her. “Look, over there.”

He pointed toward an underground waterfall nearby, the torchlight illuminating more of it as they approached. Water flowed and bubbled over the odd-looking rocks, down to more of the formations which seemed to grow out of the cave’s floor like strange mushrooms.

“My heavens, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Isobel’s eyes traveled over the torchlit cave.

“Believe it or not, I’ve heard there are caves like these all over Barbados. Or should I say under?”

Beckett peered into the darkness. “Who knows how deep this one goes?”

“Shall we keep going?”

“We may explore a bit farther, but not too much. As I said, caverns can be very unstable. At least the ones in England are.”

“I have been in a cave before, Beckett.”

“Just trying to watch out for you, my dear—”

His words were cut off as a huge stalagmite ripped away from the ceiling high above them with a resounding crack. Beckett’s head jerked up to see it falling right toward them.

He seized Isobel in his arms and rolled them both out of the way. He grunted as his back took the brunt of the hard, rocky terrain.

The stalagmite smashed into the floor, its sharp point piercing the muddy ground a few feet away from their faces. It stood straight up, its tip buried deep into the damp floor.

An eerie, high pitched squeaking flooded the air and came closer, from somewhere deep in the cave.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Beckett! What in God’s name is it?”

“Bats!” Beckett yelled, and quickly shielded her body with his own. The deafening sound of flapping wings surrounded them.

The air compressed and a huge gust of wind blew overhead. A thundering clamor filled the air as thousands of bats swept through the cave. Isobel buried her face in Beckett’s chest and clung tightly to his body. He pressed her into the ground and covered her head with his arms.

Then, like a summer storm, the squeaking and flapping ceased as quickly as it had come. Slowly Beckett raised his head and looked around. Their torch lay flickering a few feet away.

He looked down at Isobel lying beneath him. They were molded together. “Are you alright?”

“Fine—I think.”

“You’re not hurt?” Beckett rolled off her and pulled her up beside him.

“No, just a little shaken. Was that your attempt at making me swoon?” Isobel brushed the dirt off her dress.

“Yes, but as you can see, I failed. You have not swooned, and I shall lose my chance to carry you out of this dangerous cave and look the hero.”

She slapped at him playfully. “But you protected me from the bats—and the falling rock. That was very gallant.” Isobel paused and studied him with cocoa-brown eyes. “Have I thanked you, Beckett?”

“For throwing you to the ground just now? I do not think many ladies would.”

“No. For all that you’ve done for me. Not just today. For everything.”

“A gentleman does not expect to be thanked, nor does he need to be.” He felt suddenly uncomfortable—as if he’d just realized he was swimming in deep water.

“But perhaps one should be.” Isobel touched her lips to his, then, lips as soft as a rose-petal, and kissed him with maddening delicacy. Beckett felt himself melting and hardening at the same time. Devil take him, how he wanted her!

She broke the kiss and touched his face, her eyes glowing up at him in the flickering torchlight.

“Are you trying to give me that attack of nerves, wife?” he said softly.

“I don’t know.” She stroked his cheek.

“Well, you are doing a damned fine job of it. But two can play at this game.”

Beckett’s mouth descended to claim hers and he deftly parted her lips with his tongue. He heard her quick intake of breath as he pressed her body tight against his and skillfully explored the secrets of her mouth.

Isobel trembled in his arms. He felt a surge of male vanity and kissed her more ardently. It felt as if she’d been made for his hands and mouth alone.

“Don’t swoon, now,” he said, “or I’ll have to carry you out after all. Like this.” He lifted her up and she squealed adorably.

Isobel struggled briefly in his arms as he carried her toward the mouth of the cave. “Put me down! I will not have you say that I have swooned when I have not.”

“No, but you soon would have, trembling and sighing as you were in my arms.”

“I did no such things!”

Beckett set Isobel down at the entrance to the cave. “Would you like me to demonstrate again, my dear?”

Isobel glanced quickly at him. “That might be most unwise, I should think.”

Beckett felt a pang of disappointment. He offered his hand to help her down the rocky slope and found himself agreeing with her. “Most unwise, with dinner but an hour away. I’m sure a demonstration like that would cause us to be late. Shall we go back to the house then?”

Isobel nodded.

They made their way to the horses, who were still nuzzling each other amorously. Beckett helped Isobel up onto her saddle before mounting, himself.

As they trotted down the road, Beckett fumed. Despite the stern talking-to he’d given himself, his resolve was weakening. Each day it became more and more difficult to resist his wife’s charms.

His wife’s charms, he repeated to himself. She was his wife after all, wasn’t she? Where was the harm in consummating their marriage? He wanted it. It didn’t mean he was in love with her.

Yet, he had sworn to himself not to take Isobel to his bed until he was certain she was innocent of the accusations against her. And that was hardly the case.

But what if that day never came?

What if his body gave in to its desires before he finished protecting his heart?

Isobel lay in her bed gazing idly up at the ceiling. It was quite late in the morning, she knew. But she had been having such delicious dreams. Why couldn’t she stay in bed and think about them for awhile?

She hadn’t known what had come over her when she’d kissed Beckett so brazenly in the cave. But she didn’t regret it. She’d wanted to thank him, and it seemed a perfectly natural thing for a wife to do to her husband. Besides—being in his arms was the most exciting feeling she had ever known.

Still, Beckett had made it perfectly clear to her that he would never have feelings for her or any other woman. Falling in love with him would be like stepping off a cliff to see if she could fly. While providing a unique experience, both would lead to her destruction.

And what of Sir Harry? If Alfred couldn’t find evidence against him, the despicable man would be free to torment her for the rest of her life. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Her cat meowed his morning greeting and came to sit near her head. Isobel was glad for the distraction.

When she made no motion to get out of bed, the beast reached over with his paw and softly batted her cheek.

“Oh! You’ve got quite the nerve, Captain Black, even if you are a heathen pirate!” Isobel shoved the feline playfully, and he meowed in protest, jumping back and then trying to pounce on her hand. She hid her hands under the bedclothes and moved them as if there were a mouse scuttling beneath. The cat leapt about, his tail swishing back and forth as he stalked the mysterious lump beneath the covers.

Isobel laughed merrily, then even louder as she covered Captain Black with the sheets. The cat bounced about inside the bedding like a frog, then looked surprised when Isobel threw the sheets back and set him free.

Seemingly tired of Isobel’s game, the haughty feline leaped off the bed and headed for the door, trotting quickly away.

“Oh, don’t leave in a huff.” Isobel stared after him, but he didn’t respond with so much as a meow.

“Men!” Isobel scoffed, finally getting out of her comfortable bed and going to look out the French windows. She opened them and sighed with pleasure as she breathed in the unique scent that could only be called Barbados.