Captive Hearts Read online

  “I was attacked outside a jeweler’s shop, after going in to retrieve a gift.”

  Talbot’s mouth flew open in surprise. “Attacked by whom?” he asked

  “By two of the men who attacked Katherine and her family. They were actually there to bargain with me. They wanted me to turn her over to them for a fee.” Talbot shook his head, his features registering disbelief.

  “They decided to repay my refusal with knife play.

  One of them was injured, and the other escaped down an alley.”

  “Where the hell was Barlow and the two men I sent with him?” The man’s shock grew into outrage.

  “The whole thing happened so quickly they didn’t have time to react. Besides, it was nearly dark, and none of them could get a clear shot without hitting me.”

  “Blast and damnation!” Talbot’s exclamation was explosive.

  He placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder as his face became florid with color. “It’s over and done with, and I’m still in one piece.”

  “You are sure you are all right?” He ignored the twinges of pain the long narrow cut across his forearm gave him. “I’m fine. Now, is there some reason why you wanted to see me? “ His uncle frowned at the question. “We were going to make ourselves scarce and attend a dinner at the Arkwrights, but under the circumstances I believe we should stay here.”

  “I think it would be better for you and Clarisse to go on with your plans, with the appropriate precautions of course. I think you should double the number of men you take with you. As for telling Katherine and Clarisse what happened tonight, I’d like to hold off on that.” He had thought about it in the coach on the way home while he bandaged his arm with a handkerchief. It would alert the women to the danger certainly, but Katherine was already traumatized enough by what had happened. As long as he could keep her close and ensure her safety, there was no need to tell her. “Why do you suppose they thought I would hand Katherine over to them for money?”

  “Since money is so important to them, perhaps they thought you might be open to that as well.”

  “They knew about her inheritance. One of them said she’d be worth more to me dead than alive. Meaning, I

  assume, that I would inherit whatever she claims from her parent’s estate. How would they know any of that?” Talbot shook his head. “I do not know unless they were sent by someone intimately involved with Edward Leighton or Lord Rudman.”

  He drew a deep breath. “I also had the pleasure of reporting the incident to St John in Avery Rudman’s presence.”

  Talbot’s features settled into a scowl. “I am sure that was pleasant.”

  He raised a brow at his uncle’s sarcasm. “Is there a problem with Katherine?” he asked changing the subject.

  “If you put it like that there may be.”

  “You said only you and Clarisse were going out to dinner. I thought perhaps she was ill.”

  “Your aunt is concerned that you have not had enough time together of late.”

  He was being told he had been neglecting his bride in a not so subtle manner. A smile borne of half amusement and half wry deprecation, curved his lips. If he had neglected Katherine, it was out of self-preservation. He awoke every morning breathing in her scent and cradling her against him as though she belonged there. It felt too right. Having her beneath his hand without being able to caress her was slowly driving him mad.

  “I thought it best that Katherine be introduced to certain elements of marriage slowly. I’m unsure of how much she witnessed, and was subjected to the night her mother died. I didn’t want to press the matter too quickly or too often.”

  The explanation, not entirely untrue, cleared Talbot’s frown and had him nodding. “I see. Has she spoken of that night at all?”

  He shook his head. He hadn’t tried to urge her to speak of it for fear of stirring memories that might once again spark her fear of him.

  “Your aunt has been upset all evening, Matthew. She believes that Katherine has given up hope of ever being accepted by her peers, and that she has resigned herself to it.”

  He tried to ignore the hollow feeling that struck him just beneath his ribs. If he left her behind, as she wanted

  him to, her fate would be sealed. She would be alone and defenseless against the judgment of a society that was all too quick to point a gleeful finger at any whisper of impropriety. The thought of abandoning her went against every honorable instinct he had. But short of throwing her over his shoulder and forcing her onto his ship, how was he to persuade her to accept their marriage?

  “There’s little we can do to force them to accept her, Talbot. It may cause Katherine more distress if Clarisse presses the issue.”

  “I believe that is what has upset her. Katherine yielded to her wishes just to please her and has been silently miserable.”

  Matthew wondered what other things his wife had held back just to keep the peace.

  ****

  A few moments later, Matthew tapped upon their bedroom door and frowned as his bid for entry met with silence. Opening the portal, he scanned the chamber only to find it empty but for the lingering feminine smell of scented soap. He paused to enjoy it, for it had been some time since he had shared such things. He enjoyed women. The way they smelled, the softness of their skin, the sound of their voices, their laughter, the way they moved. He found more pleasure in his wife than he should. That thought brought to mind his own restraint when interacting with her. Was he keeping her at arm’s length because it was what she wanted, or because he wished to avoid growing attached to her?

  Despite both their attempts to remain in control, he was beginning to know his wife. Katherine didn’t fuss over her appearance, yet appeared neat and feminine even in the dark mourning garb she was required to wear.

  When angry, her cultured tone grew clipped. When moved, her voice sounded husky and soft. Her smiles were rare as pearls. He had never heard her laugh with any humor, and that piqued his concern.

  Though she tried hard to cover it, her wariness when in the company of men truly bothered him. Her normal outspokenness and confidence seemed to dwindle away, and she withdrew into herself. He was at a loss as to what to do about it.

  A flicker of color in the dressing room caught his attention, and he crossed to the door to look in. As he watched, Katherine folded a cream-colored shift and placed it in the drawer of the chest. He couldn’t discern her expression, but sensed an air of melancholy in the slump of her shoulders and the bend of her neck. Her damnable English reserve, combined with the wariness she exhibited toward him, kept a distance between them he believed he had no right to cross; yet, he found he wanted to more and more.

  As his desire grew stronger, so did his guilt. He had certainly not been celibate since Caroline’s death, but the relationships he had pursued had been based on lust, not on any lasting affection on his part. He had certainly liked the women he had bedded, but he had never been tempted to make any of them a permanent part of his life.

  Until Katherine.

  He woke up in the night, hot and hard, aching to make love to her. He wanted to taste the soft white skin just behind her ear and work his way down to her toes. He wanted to cup the full firmness of her breasts in his hand then lathe them with his tongue until the nipples were taut and she begged him for more. But most of all he wanted to break the careful composure she donned like a cloak and see her features flushed with passion and hear her moan with pleasure. Just thinking about it stirred his blood and made him sweat. He knew his reactions were probably heightened by his earlier experience. How much better a way to reaffirm life than by making it. He could only hope she didn’t notice the obvious signs of his arousal.

  “Good evening, Katherine.”

  Katherine looked up at the sound of his deep lazy drawl. It slid over her like a warm caress. Swallowing against the emotions swamping her, she struggled to gain control, when really all she wanted to do was to run to him and throw herself at him to be held. “Good eve
ning,” she managed after a moment.

  “Elton said you’ve been in the kitchen cooking today.

  Is that right?”

  “Mrs. Parkins was kind enough to allow me to share her kitchen and bake some bread. I find it relaxes me.”

  “It seems Clarisse and Talbot have been invited to a dinner party tonight and will be out for the evening.”

  “Oh.” The tight knot to her stomach relaxed somewhat. At least for one night she wouldn’t be subjected to a barrage of dinner guests. Nor would she have to endure the women’s whispered comments made purposely within her hearing and the men’s bold, speculative glances that teetered on being leers. After tomorrow, such behavior would be mild compared to what would follow. She had to be strong, for herself and for her family. She had done what she had to do.

  She looked up at Matthew and wondered if he would understand that. Light from the oil lantern etched one side of his face with a pale glow and cast bluish highlights in his hair as he stepped into the room. He wouldn’t be prepared for the situation in which he would find himself embroiled. He deserved better from her.

  “Matthew—” his name came out in a breathy, soft tone, and she turned to rest her hand upon his arm. If she warned him now, he might find a way to stop her. She couldn’t allow that. The knot of dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach tightened painfully. She had become a sneak. She had lied through omission. How much farther she would have to go in order to see justice done?

  Guilt had her going on the offensive. “You have instructed the servants to spy on me.” He didn’t try to deny it. “To watch over you, for your own protection.”

  Katherine nearly snorted at that. “I helped you escape your prison only to find one of my own.”

  “Where do you wish to go that you can’t with my knowledge, Katherine?”

  She shook her head. “Knowing that my every movement is being observed is what I find objectionable.

  Elton has hung over my shoulder all day and, I am certain, reported to you as soon as you walked into the house.”

  “I’ve a duty to keep you safe, Katherine.” Between her father’s actions and her uncle’s, she’d had enough of duty to last her a lifetime. Men did all manner of things against you in the name of duty. “Save

  your duty for something or someone you truly care about, Captain.”

  He blocked her attempt to go around him by stepping in front of her. “You’re so busy trying to keep a distance between yourself and everyone else you don’t realize it’s already too late. Talbot and Clarisse already care about you, as do I.”

  She noticed how reluctantly he said it and anger spiked by hurt, lent her voice an edge. “I do not need your grudging declarations of care and concern. And you would be wise to keep your distance. Neither of us would like to endure the embarrassment of an emotional entanglement before you leave. In fact, it might be wise for us to seek an end to this as quickly as possible.” He grasped her chin forcing her features upward for his perusal. His features were a study in light tinged angles and shadows. His jaw was taut with control. “You know as well as I do that will not be possible. And even if we could, we’d have to produce proof that we haven’t been lovers. How difficult will that be, Katherine?” She gasped as pain lanced through her and couldn’t control her reactive flinch. “You may always accuse me of coming to our marriage bed soiled. I am certain the court will have no qualms in accepting your petition for divorce then.”

  The pressure of his fingers about her jaw relaxed. He ran his fingertips along the curve on her cheekbone and jaw in a caress that brought a flutter to her stomach. “Do you believe you must be punished in some way because you survived that night?”

  “No.” She

  didn’t, but others did.

  His touch branded her with heat, the steady regard of his pale blue gaze inspired an airless feeling beneath her ribs and brought to life an empty ache low in her belly. Her mouth grew dry with longings to be closer. She laid a hand against his chest whether to hold him at bay or bring him closer she didn’t know.

  Matthew swore, his tone laced with frustration. In a snap, he crushed her to him. His hand thrust through the soft curls at the back of her head as his mouth covered hers. His lips and tongue tempted, tasted, and then plundered the depths of her need, drawing from

  Katherine a response just as wild and impatient as his.

  With a groan, she looped her arms about his neck urging him closer.

  He obliged by running a hand down her spine to mold her body to his. His kisses grew languid and hot. She felt boneless. She didn’t think she’d be able to stand had he not held her so close.

  She drew a shuddering breath when his mouth left hers to nibble her earlobe, his breath warm against her skin. Sliding one hand upward beneath his bound hair, she pulled free the black cord that held it and buried her fingers into the lush rich strands. Matthew’s mouth came back to hers and their tongues thrust, and parried. When Matthew sucked upon her tongue, an insistent ache raced through her and she groaned aloud.

  After tonight, no other man would treat her with respect as he did. She would never know this pleasure with any other man. She would not want to. That knowledge seeped into her passion-clouded mind and brought an ache of loss deep inside her that was almost unbearable. She cupped his face between her hands and felt the texture of his skin beneath her palms. She fed from his kisses as though each were the last she would ever experience.

  “Katherine—” Matthew spoke her name on a ragged breath. He buried his face in her hair and held her as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

  She sensed his withdrawal. Embarrassment had her drawing a deep breath. She lowered her hands and took a step back. It was self-preservation alone that had her dragging her pride around her like a shield.

  “Katherine—” he said again.

  “Please, don’t.” If he voiced one word of apology or regret, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  Matthew raked his hands through his hair and swearing beneath his breath he strode back into the bedroom. It took all the courage she could muster to follow him.

  Matthew shook free of his long coat and she gasped.

  The lower half of one sleeve was dark with blood. “What happened?”

  “Just an accident.” He untied his stock and began to

  remove the ruined shirt.

  Going to the dressing room, she filled the washstand basin with water. He followed her, his arm banded by a handkerchief. “Come, let me see how bad it is,” she urged.

  He seemed reluctant to let her, but finally stepped close to the basin.

  “You should have said you were hurt when first you arrived.” She pulled him forward and untied the handkerchief. “Webster or Georgie could have done a better job bandaging it.”

  “They weren’t about when it happened, so I had to tie it myself in the coach.”

  The cut ran across the middle of his forearm and was deeper in the center than at the edges. She thought it was too straight to be anything but a knife wound. She swallowed against the sudden rush of fear that cut off her breath for a moment. She positioned his arm over the basin and began to gently bathe away the dried blood.

  The coppery smell made her queasy, and she breathed through her mouth until the feeling passed.

  She paused to look up at him, her throat feeling tight. “Tell me I have not brought trouble to you.” He smoothed a dark auburn curl back from her cheek. “You haven’t. Sometimes the docks can be a dangerous place, Katherine. Knives are a sailor’s first choice of weapon when in a fight. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  She continued to study his features for a moment before going back to the task at hand. She wanted to believe him, but knew she shouldn’t. “You will need a few stitches. I will ask Elton to send for a doctor.” If this incident was somehow caused by the men who had attacked her family…Fear clenched like a fist in the pit of her stomach. She had to draw them away somehow. She had
to leave tomorrow.

  ****

  Katherine gripped the corner of the pillow and fought the urge to weep. The finality of what she had planned had come crashing down upon her at dinner. Every time Matthew had spoken, she had caught herself studying his expression in a desperate bid to remember it. Every touch of his hand had become precious. His protectiveness when

  they were in social situations—his penchant for sharing his cloak and his body heat in the coach—and his hand covering hers in the bend of his arm when they walked together—had all become gestures to hold dear in her memories.

  How many times had he unfastened her gown, just like any other husband? Or touched her cheek, or smoothed back a wayward curl? How many times had he shared some passing thought or observation and made her feel privy to his inner thoughts? And why had she not done the same in return? What could it have hurt? Regret tasted like bitter ashes in her mouth.

  It did no good to torment herself with questions, or dreams of something different. The very needs and desires that had brought them together would keep them apart. An ache of loss squeezed her heart and she turned her face into the pillow to fight against a fresh wave of tears.

  “What is it, you are mulling over?” Matthew asked his tone hushed.

  The fire’s pale glow threw flickering light across the bottom of the bed just enough to see his profile. Katherine swallowed twice to clear her throat, but her voice still came out weak and husky. “I was just wondering…if we had met in a different manner…but then we would have probably never met at all.”

  “Despite my close relationship with my aunt and uncle, I doubt a lowly sea captain would have been invited to court.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “You didn’t have a coming out?”

  “No.”

  Matthew turned on his side facing her. “Why not?” Katherine drew in a breath laced with his scent.

  Even that she would remember. “My father wished to choose my husband.”