My Heart's Desire Read online

  “If the opinion of the ton is of such importance, then surely it is necessary for me to make what they consider a suitable match, Father. After all, it wouldn’t do for the only daughter of the Earl of Sudsbury to marry just anybody, now, would it?” Her tone was challenging, her gaze triumphant.

  For some reason Geoffrey seemed to find her statement amusing.

  “That is quite true, daughter.”

  Alex played her trump card. “Then how can you possibly allow me to marry a man who is so far beneath us? A man who can offer me no family name, no great wealth, nothing but poverty and a transient life at sea? Surely a slightly soiled reputation is far better than a lifetime with such a man, is it not, Father?”

  For one moment Geoffrey’s eyes glittered with some emotion that Alex could not assess. Then he merely met her stare with his own. “The situation is of your own creation, daughter. And now you must pay the price of your indiscretion. I suggest you begin to make your wedding plans. I will have a dressmaker come to your room to fit you for a suitable gown. A fortnight from this day you will cease to be my responsibility and become your husband’s.” He paused. “I suggest that you attempt to curb your reckless impulsiveness once you are wed. Drake Barrett does not seem to be the sort of man who would tolerate such nonsense from his wife.”

  Drake Barrett. The reality of the situation struck her all at once: she was going to be married to Drake Barrett. The man who had unraveled all of her senses, left them raw and unsettled; the man who aroused her, thrilled her, infuriated her, patronized her, and reached deep inside her soul—that same man was going to be her husband.

  She suddenly felt giddy.

  “How did Captain Barrett take this unexpected piece of news?” she asked carefully.

  “Why not ask him yourself, princess?” The familiar, resonant voice came from the doorway behind her, and Alex spun around in surprise. Drake’s face was a mask of non-emotion, but Alex recognized the furious gleam in his eyes. Her heart sank. He was livid.

  Geoffrey greeted Drake casually. “Well, good morning, Captain Barrett. Please join us. We were just discussing the plans for your wedding.”

  “So I heard.” He moved to where Alex was standing, but did not meet her questioning eyes. His features were carved in granite, his lips tightly set, and the muscle that worked in his jaw bespoke his anger. “Let us make the arrangements and be done with it.” It was an order, coldly issued.

  Alex wanted to sink through the floor and die. Not only was she being discarded by her father, she was being given to a man who resented the idea of marriage more than she did. Of course, there was one thing he definitely would not resent having—her body. Well, damn it, if he expected her to meekly submit to his demands without receiving any tenderness in return, he had a big surprise in store for him. Drake Barrett would whistle before she gave herself to him, marriage or not.

  Drake noted Alex’s rigid stance and wondered if she was reacting to the idea of becoming his wife or to his cold treatment. He couldn’t forget the scathing words he had just overheard her speak of what marriage to him would mean, or could he overlook the pain that her comments had caused him. And lashing out was the only way he could master the inexplicable feelings she aroused in him, feelings that made him weak.

  The pull between them was as strong as ever, regardless of the anger that now hung in the air. The decision had been made. He would marry her. He would claim her fiery spirit and her delectable body. And in return, despite her anticipated dismay, he would give her his name, his wealth, and someday his title.

  But the one thing he would never give her was his heart. That, if it existed, belonged only to him.

  The wharf was dark and deserted when Alex arrived. For a moment she stared longingly out over the crystal-clear waters of Lake Ontario, the waters that she had dreamed of sailing. Now, instead of the freedom she sought, she was moving from a life of shallow flirtations and empty experiences to a lifelong commitment with a man who cared nothing for her and resented both her affluence and her sex. Life had become very complicated, and she felt unable to cope with its complexities.

  Sitting down on the lovely stretch of beach near the wharf, Alex tucked her gown beneath her, buried her face in her hands, and closed her eyes. She had barely heard the details of the wedding that were discussed between her father and Drake. She’d been numb inside, needing only solace for her thoughts. Now her numbness gave way to the pain of rejection. Drake might owe her nothing, but how could her own father, a man who was supposed to love her, cast her aside so cruelly?

  Despair washed over her as she huddled alone on the sand. She knew that she shouldn’t be out by herself at night, but she, quite frankly, didn’t care. What more could her father do to her that he had not already done? She swallowed, fighting back the tears. She felt so alone.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” The dear familiar voice caressed her senses like a warm blanket.

  “Smitty!” Alex sat upright, greeting the older man whose face was nearly hidden in the shadows of night. At her eager smile he sat down beside her.

  “I thought I saw you running about on the beach,” he admonished gently, tender concern underlying his words. “Don’t you know that it is not safe for you to be here alone?”

  “I was hoping to be brutally murdered and left as food for the gulls.”

  He chuckled. “Now, now. It isn’t as bad as all that, my lady.”

  Alex responded with a dejected look and a deep sigh.

  “You know, my lady, ofttimes what appears to be a tragedy turns out to be a blessing. Many of life’s most sacred offerings are not recognized as such.”

  “You know.”

  He nodded. “Yes, Captain Barrett told me.”

  “And what sort of humor is Captain Barrett in?”

  Smitty grinned. “He is as cantankerous as an injured bear.”

  “He doesn’t want to marry me.”

  Smitty shook his head. “Correction. He doesn’t want to want to marry you. Therein lies the problem.”

  Alex looked skeptical. “Do you really believe he cares for me?”

  “Without a doubt, my lady,” was the firm reply. “Just as you care for him.”

  Alex did not argue the point. “It frightens me, Smitty. Marriage is a serious lifetime commitment, a commitment to one person.”

  “Not everyone views it as such.” Smitty watched her reaction carefully and was rewarded with her almost violent shake of the head.

  “To me marriage means lifelong respect, consideration, and caring.”

  “And fidelity?”

  Alex nodded. “And fidelity.”

  Smitty stared out to sea. “There are those who would disagree, those who would agree, and those who would like to agree but are afraid to for fear of being hurt. The people who fall into this last category need our compassion and our understanding. They do not need to be taught to love, only to believe. For with belief comes trust. And once they trust, they will become capable of a love so profound that it will transform their lives and fill their souls with joy.”

  “Why do I feel that we are no longer talking in generalizations?” Alex asked.

  Smitty merely stood, drawing her to her feet beside him. “Trust in your instincts, my lady. They will not fail you.”

  Alex remained silent for a moment, digesting his words. Then she said, “Will you come to the wedding?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Then at least I will feel as if my family is there,” she replied softly, looking up into his kind face. Perhaps Smitty was right. Perhaps Drake really did care. Perhaps …

  “Smitty! Where the hell are you?” Drake’s drunken shout from La Belle Illusion shattered the silence around them. “We have a lot to do—load the timber, drink ourselves into oblivion. After all, it’s not every day a man gets married, you know.” A pause, during which Alex could picture him gulping down another drink. “Well, Smitty, what do you say?” the uneven raving continued. “Can you just
picture my family’s reaction when I arrive home with Lady Alexandria Cassel as my wife? That should certainly cause an uproar, now shouldn’t it?”

  Smitty winced, reaching a protective hand out to Alex. But she shrugged it away, stepping back, her chin held high.

  “So much for your theory on Captain Barrett’s loving nature, Smitty,” she said in a shaky voice. “Well, you can give him a message from me. He may put a ring on my finger, but I will never, never go back to England with him as his wife. I’ll see him in hell first!” With that, she lifted her skirts and ran from the beach.

  Smitty stared after her, his expression sad. “He is already in hell, my lady,” he murmured to himself. “Now it is up to you to lead him out.”

  Chapter 13

  DAWN ARRIVED. RAIN EXPLODED from the heavens in hard, battering pelts, that drenched the streets of York with merciless intensity. Then, suddenly, just after ten o’clock, the storm ceased, making way for a soft June breeze, trilling birds, and a warm afterglow of sunshine. Sparkling rain droplets shimmered on the trees, and a spectacularly vivid, multihued rainbow arched gracefully in the deepening blue sky.

  It was Alex’s wedding day.

  Her moods were as changeable as the weather. One moment she was filled with impotent anger, trapped like a bird in a cage. The next moment she was overcome with tingly anticipation, wondering what it would be like to be Drake’s wife. Most of all, she was terrified, for despite her bravado with Smitty, Alex was well aware of a husband’s rights. What if Drake forced her to return to England as his wife and to perform all her duties as Mrs. Drake Barrett?

  She was more terrified that he would leave her behind.

  Since a fortnight ago in her father’s study, Alex had barely seen Drake. Her days were filled with dress fittings, her nights with doubts and worries. And now that the day was here, apprehension and confusion seemed to converge, inundating her with a fear that was suffocating.

  Wrapping her robe more tightly around her, she went to the bedchamber window and pressed her face to the glass, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Before she could make any progress, there was a firm knock on her bedchamber door.

  She jumped. “Come in.”

  Geoffrey Cassel opened the door and walked in, immaculately dressed and dreadfully ill at ease. His tone, however, was customarily brusque.

  “I see you are awake, Alexandria.”

  “I haven’t slept,” was the pointed response.

  He ignored the meaning behind her words and crossed the room to the small settee beside the window where Alex stood. “Sit down, Alexandria.” It was an order. “Today you are to be married, and it is time for us to talk.”

  Alex suspected that his talk would not be the soothing, caring chat she needed but rather another issuance of rules and expectations for her to live up to. So be it. She sat and waited.

  Satisfied with her action, Geoffrey continued. “If your mother were here right now she would be having this talk with you. Since you have made that an impossibility”—he scowled briefly, letting Alex see his disapproval once more—“the task has fallen to me. I want to assure myself that you are prepared for your duties and obligations as a wife.”

  Alex gave him an incredulous look. She hadn’t the faintest notion why her father was so concerned. After all, the numerous rules that applied to being the most gracious of hostesses, the most versatile of conversationalists, the very paragon of London society, would hardly be put to the test in a cramped cabin of a merchant ship. Fascinated, she waited for him to continue.

  “I recognize only too clearly that the words ‘obey’ and ‘submit to’ are not as yet in your vocabulary. You have precisely two hours to change that. Defiance and rebelliousness are not desirable traits in a wife.” He took a deep breath. “Especially to a man like Drake Barrett, who is used to others doing his bidding. He will expect certain things of you as his wife, some of which may seem rather … distasteful.” He cleared his throat, unable to meet her wide-eyed stare. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “You’re telling me that I must relinquish every independent thought and opinion that I possess,” she summed up.

  Geoffrey did not smile. “Not only your thoughts. You must relinquish everything, Alexandria. Now do I make myself clear?”

  Alex was torn between laughter and tears. “Are we discussing my wedding night now, Father?” she asked boldly.

  He was taken aback by her forthright question. At last he nodded. “I presume you know what to expect?”

  She had a very good idea, but there were so many questions she wanted answered, so much reassurance that she needed. Looking at her father’s granite-set face, she knew that none of it would be forthcoming. “Yes, Father, I have been told what to expect.”

  His relief was evident. “Good. Bear in mind that your submission is necessary in order to produce an heir for your husband.”

  An heir. The one thing that her poor mother had never been able to provide Geoffrey, despite her repeated “submissions.” Well, in this case, it didn’t matter. There was no title or land to pass on. The only thing Drake’s child would inherit was La Belle Illusion. Hardly a sizable fortune worth losing sleep over.

  Submission. Alex allowed herself a brief reflection on her limited physical intimacies with Drake. The memories were vivid and bone-melting. Instinct told her that Drake would be bored to tears with the sort of wife Geoffrey was describing—the sort of wife she could never be. She understood enough about the chemistry that existed between herself and her husband-to-be to recognize that she could either violently resist him or go up in smoke with him. But submit to him? Never.

  She stood up. “I understand what you’ve told me, Father. Now I need to bathe and dress. I wouldn’t want to anger my betrothed by being late on my wedding day.”

  Geoffrey ignored her sarcasm. “Of course not. I will see you downstairs in two hours.”

  Alex closed the door behind him, feeling more alone than ever. It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t sure exactly what Drake’s plans were after the wedding. Since, during their few terse exchanges over the last few days, he had made no mention of the need for her to pack or ready herself in any way, it was possible that he meant to leave her behind here in York when he returned to England.

  Well, that suited her just fine, the independent streak in her cried out. To hell with being a dutiful wife. She would remain in York, unavailable to men and therefore unencumbered by the demands society made on unmarried women. She would be free to sail her skiff, to make her own rules, to live her own life.

  To be alone.

  An undefinable ache filled her heart at the finality of the thought. Always she had dreamed, planned, anticipated the very life that now awaited her. So why did she feel so empty as the time to realize her dream drew near?

  She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids, sat down at the edge of her bed. Today, just after noon, in a quiet ceremony at the governor’s mansion, she would become Drake’s wife.

  What was he thinking now? Was he angry, resentful? Did he loathe her for what had been forced upon him? Or was he, like her, confused and uncertain, wondering what fate had in store for them?

  A soft knock at the door of her bedchamber announced the arrival of Alex’s bath. In a few short hours she would have her answers.

  Drake stood unmoving as Smitty tied the silk cravat about his neck. The stark whiteness of the material richly complemented the dark elegance of Drake’s formal waistcoat and pantaloons and perfectly matched the crisp frilled shirt.

  Once through, Smitty stepped back to admire his handiwork.

  “Flawless, if I must say so myself, Captain,” he declared, with a flourish.

  Drake gave him a searching look. “The attire or the bridegroom, Smitty?”

  “Both.” Smitty was not put off by his captain’s foul mood, for he knew what caused it, and it was time that the problem was addressed. Pausing only to firmly close the cabin door, he turned back to Drake’s
scowl.

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling that a lecture is about to be delivered, Smitty?”

  Smitty shook his head. “No lecture, my lord. Just a talk between old friends.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Smitty smiled. “You are angry that today is your wedding day.”

  Drake gave a disgusted snort. “A brilliant deduction, my friend. You need not have closed the door for such a grand proclamation.”

  “Did you expect never to marry?”

  “Of course I expected to marry. Someday.”

  “So you are angry that you are being forced to marry now, against your will?”

  “I am not being forced to do anything,” Drake shot back.

  “Ah, that’s right. You are doing this for your family.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Drake gave Smitty a suspicious look, wondering where all this was leading.

  “Then you should be proud—unless, of course, Lady Alexandria possesses some horrid quirk that I know nothing about and that would make her an unsuitable wife?” He waited.

  “You know damn well that there is nothing unsuitable about Alexandria.”

  Smitty nodded. “So you are marrying a perfectly acceptable young woman for only the most admirable reasons and of your own free will.” He paused, considering. “Actually there is no earthly reason for your foul humor, is there?” When Drake did not answer, he continued. “Unless you have some strong feelings for your wife-to-be. Now, based on your experience and your opinion of women, that would be a problem. To give this woman your name is most magnanimous of you, but to give her your heart… that would be an entirely different matter.”

  “Shut up, Smitty.” Drake had heard enough.

  Smitty regarded Drake soberly. His reaction had been as expected—angry, defensive, stubborn.

  Afraid.

  “Your heart may be hardened, but your instincts tell you that she is different,” he observed wisely.

  Drake stiffened. “She’s a woman.”

  “She cares a great deal for you.”

  “Some of the time,” Drake conceded, thinking of the way Alex responded in his arms.