Sleep eluded him but his thoughts remained relentless. Dorian struggled from his bed, pressing a hand to his thigh where the cutlass had severed his flesh. The wounds inflicted along his body were steadily healing, but the wound in his heart was another matter entirely.
His hands curled into fists as he braced his weight against the wall, clenching his eyes shut as he imagined her alabaster skin, hair like moonlight, and eyes the color of golden brown.
The length of his frame erupted in flames, his desire demanding he claim his woman. Mindless of his actions, he left the confines of his room and stalked the dark corridor leading to her room.
The room was dim but warm, a gentle fire burning low in the hearth as he closed her bedroom door. His ice-eyes immediately sought her sleeping form, small and curled in the large four-poster bed.
He moved toward her, his undeniable hunger intensifying with each step that brought him closer to her side.
In her restlessness, she had kicked the covers away, her nightgown rising high on her thighs. He felt a moan rise deep from within his throat as his hands resisted the temptation of running the length of her silky skin with the tips of his fingers.
His eyes moved higher and fell firm on the evident roundness of her belly. A minatory rage gripped him fiercely, and he jerked away, tearing his eyes from this lovely creature that he’d given his heart too.
How could she have given herself so carelessly to Cummings? Had he been so enraptured with her, so oblivious to their discreet love that he had not noticed any wayward glances, lingering touches? But the flattery, he thought bitterly, the flattery had been there, clear as the morning light.
Infuriated, he spun back around, cringing as the abrupt movement caused him pain. He settled beside her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as his eyes roamed the extent of her small frame.
Her chemise was thin and flimsy, like a whisper of silk concealing the object of his insatiable hunger. Her breasts swelled, rising with each sleeping breath and he had the fierce urge to rip the material apart and lavish her lovely flesh with his mouth.
Heedless with desire, he reached out and lightly caressed a creamy shoulder, trailing his fingers smoothly down her arm. Her shudder passed through him and he gasped, his manhood jerking with anticipation, thrusting against the seams of his breeches.
His hand dipped lower, brushing lightly over the soft mounds of her breasts and her mouth parted in her slumber. She stirred but did not wake, her body shifting towards his touch, and her legs slightly parted.
A rush of heat spiraled low in his belly as he reached down and gently caressed the inside of her thighs. It would be so easy, he thought, his hand straying provocatively close to her moist center.
Her head turned on the pillow and it was there he noticed the wet streak that trailed her cheek. His hand froze and his brow furrowed as he reached up and cupped her face.
She had been crying for whom he wondered?
He forced himself from her bed and for a moment, stood staring down at her. Had he been wrong in accusing her? How could he think otherwise when she had been betrothed and she had not denied carrying another man’s child?
The morning light was heavy and grim, as her eyes fluttered wide; Ginelle slowly sat up and stared around the room.
Had she imagined it? Surely she had thought Dorian had come to her in the night? She shook her head for he repelled the sight of her, what reason would he have to come to her?
The notion brought sudden tears to her eyes as her hands fell lightly on her budding belly. She wouldn’t give up hope, she vowed determinedly. She would convince him of her love and prove to him that she carried his child.
She had suffered many hardships and refused to cower from this. Surely if his hatred burned so deep, there must have been some sort of affection before it all? He must have felt something for her to shun her so painfully? He had not banished her from Ashford, certainly that meant something?
Her chest expanding with a small ball of hope, she arose from bed and began to dress. She took her time, contemplating ways of expressing her everlasting love. She would make him see; she thought with a hopeful smile, she would make him see how wrong he had been in his allegations.
As she started for the door, she stopped suddenly, remembering the beautiful red-haired woman from yesterday. She shook her head of the image, not wanting anything to deter her from her purpose. She would make him see.
**********
“Where is Master Dorian?” Lucile peered up from beneath the cupboard to stare curiously up at Ginelle looming above her.
The housekeeper straightened to address her young mistress, “I believe he’s gone into town, my dear.”
Ginelle frowned, “But his wounds have not completely healed?” she said, her words laced with concern.
The older woman shrugged helplessly, “He refused to reason. He said he had important business to see too, concerning Sir Stefan.”
Ginelle’s heart dropped in her chest. Surely Dorian wouldn’t hurt his own Lieutenant, he had to know that Stefan’s intentions had been honorable?
“Thank you, Lucile.” She said before walking away, knowing the older woman sensed her unease.
She couldn’t allow Stefan to suffer Dorian’s wrath on her expense. She had to find him and explain before something harrowing happened for she sensed a terrible, foreboding dread.
She dressed in her warmest cloak and gathered it close, chancing a glance towards the rear of the manor in fear Lucile would be standing nearby and when she saw no one, not even a servant, she opened the door and rushed out into the frosty, morning air.
The coachman assisted her into a carriage and she gave specific orders to start for town as she clutched anxiously at the locket dangling from around her neck, her heart beating erratically in her chest as she stared blankly out her window as they bypassed snow-encased hills.
She loved him; she had to convince him of that.
Aboard The Silver Wind, docked along the Eastern harbor, Stefan opened the cabin door and stepped into the dimly lit room. He shrugged out of his waistcoat, oblivious to the man lounging in the corner.
“Did you bed her, Stefan?” his words cut through the quiet like a jagged blade, startling Stefan as he turned to peer at Dorian’s hulking frame.
“Captain? What are you doing here? Your wounds-“
Dorian stood slowly from his chair and stepped closer, his eyes like shards of ice as they settled on Stefan. “Answer me, Lieutenant.” He demanded coldly.
Stefan shook his head, “No.” he said indubitably.
Doubt flickered in his icy stare as he stepped around Stefan, his stride unbalanced, his wounds causing him great discomfort. “I find that hard to believe, especially since at my arrival, I find you escorting her around as your betrothed.” He hissed suspiciously.
“Dorian, you have it all wrong.” Stefan conveyed, shaking his head. “We all thought you dead. There were rumors that the Royal Navy attacked the Spaniard’s vessel and sank every merchant ship on sight?”
Dorian grunted with pain as he shifted his weight to better ease the shooting spasms spiraling through his leg. “You heard right, Lieutenant. The Spaniard is dead, but as you can see, I am very much alive.” He said breathlessly, “And I returned to claim my woman only to see that she is betrothed to you, my own mercenary, and confidant. She carries your bastard!” he exclaimed furiously.
“You are wrong in your allegations, Captain.” Stefan replied calmly. “She loves you, always has.”
“Yet, you intended on marrying her? Why is that, Lieutenant?”
“Because she carries your child!” Stefan proclaimed, “Tis your babe that she carries and I could not abide her reputation to be tainted, so I did the honorable thing and asked her to marry me, to see her unharmed by society’s cruelty because you and I both know she has suffered enough in this life.”
Dorian felt the blood rush from his face. “You speak the truth?”
Stefan nodded, “I have never misled you, Captain.”
“Your feelings for her are strictly amiable?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with intensity.
“She is merely a friend.” He confirmed, “My affections have not changed.”
“Does she love you?” Dorian asked, surprised by the sudden somersault of his heart as he anxiously awaited Stefan’s response.
Stefan smirked, “Every woman cannot resist my undeniable charm-“ he paused, his russet eyes glinting with that familiar wry humor. “-aside from one.” He added.
Dorian fell silent as a pang of guilt seized him abruptly. He had treated her cruelly the night of his return and all along, she had not betrayed his heart, and she carried his child.
“She was a shadow of herself.” Stefan spoke, drawing Dorian’s attention. “When she thought you dead, she withdrew from the world. She loves you undeniably.”
“I have made a grave mistake in doubting you, old friend.” Dorian collapsed into a chair and swept an unsteady hand through his tousled hair. “I have made a grave error of this whole misunderstanding.”
Stefan settled across from him, “You shouldn’t waste time with lingering regrets. You love her, so claim your woman and child.” Dorian peered over at his friend as Stefan added, “Marry her.”
The carriage carried her further into town and Ginelle shivered uncontrollably as a slight fear shuddered down her spine. She had never ventured to town alone but she had to find Dorian, she had to resolve everything.
She peered through the window as children swept along the street, dodging patches of ice as snow flurries began to descend from the milky sky.
Ginelle tried to keep her anxiety at bay but the familiarity of these roughened streets, the dangers lurking in every corner despite the midday light, left her shaking with dismay.
The carriage suddenly rolled to a precarious stop, wrenching her forward. She cried out as she quickly caught herself and straightened against the leather seat.
The door suddenly opened, revealing the coachman. “I am sorry, mademoiselle, but the streets are too crowded for me to continue.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Ginelle gathered her cloak tightly together. “No need, Henry. I shall continue on foot.”
“Milady?” he frowned with disapproval. “These streets are not safe for a woman like you.” he objected.
“I know, Henry. I will only travel a short distance if you’ll just wait here?” she asked gently as he assisted her from the carriage.
“Aye milady, but please do hurry.”
The moment her slippered feet touched the frozen cobblestone, a feeling of trepidation settled heavy in her belly. Grateful that the cloak concealed her small frame, she reached up and pulled the hood over her head and started into the thickening crowd.
Her brown eyes scanned frantically for the docks but through the crowd she had poor sense of direction. Bodies jostled her about and she felt panic rising in her throat as grimy faces leered back at her. Struggling to not get alarmed, she pushed her way through the crowd and managed to step onto the sidewalk and there she spotted the docks with a gasp of aspiration.
“Looking for someone in particular?” spoke a velvety voice laced with distaste.
Ginelle stiffened and slowly turned to peer into a pair of dark, sapphire eyes. Her eyes widened for a fraction to find her affronted by Dorian’s mistress.
The woman radiated beauty but the animosity that glinted cruelly in her deep blue eyes, resembling a stormy sea sent an inclination of intended harm. “He is not there.” She said coolly, her blue eyes peering past Ginelle’s shoulder.
Ginelle lifted her chin, determined not to be swayed by this woman’s indifference. “I’m sorry but I do not know who you are talking about.”
The woman’s blue eyes met hers once more, narrowing with contempt. “Don’t play coy with me girl, I know you seek Dorian.”
Her heart jumped against her breast, “How are you so certain of that, madam?”
Her mouth twisted into a smile that didn’t quite reach the blue of her eyes. “He sent me for you, of course.”
Ginelle stiffened; startled that Dorian would send his mistress to fetch her! She lifted her chin more defiantly, compelling herself to remain firm. “If he sent you for me, than where is he?” she demanded.
The woman grinned, her head turning slightly as she motioned Ginelle to follow her. “He is this way, please, come with me.” Her voice had softened, drawing Ginelle forward as a sudden inkling warned her to be cautious.
She followed the red-haired woman and realized she was leading her away from the crowd and into an alley. Her heart hastened within her chest and she hesitated as she darted a fearful glance back towards the crowded streets.
“This way.” The woman beckoned and proceeded on down the darkened alley. When she saw her disappear around the corner, Ginelle quickened her steps, eager to escape the damp, deserted passage.
She appeared on the other side of the building, the street less crowded but crammed with carriages lining the cobblestone.
Just as Ginelle managed to catch her breath, the hairs at the nape of her neck tingled in warning as a shadow fell over her. A startled gasp escaped her throat as a large hand seized her arm, jerking her roughly about and her gaze connected with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.
“Nathaniel!” she rasped, her eyes widening a fraction as his grip tightened mercifully around her arm. “What are you doing?” she cried in desperation, struggling to wrench free of his grip.
His expression was made of stone but his eyes were almost remorseful as he said, “I am sorry Ginelle but you left me little choice in the matter.”
She frowned, fear clogging her throat as she struggled against him. “What are you talking about? Release me, Nathaniel!”
His face hardened and he jerked her closer until his breath fanned her forehead. “I did not take Dorian’s warning lightly when last we met.” He growled, “I am touching you, yet he is no where to be found?” he growled ominously.
She blanched, the color draining from her face as she caught a flash of red from her peripheral. “Why are you doing this?” she cast a fearful glance at Dorian’s mistress, her red lips curving wickedly.
“I find myself in financial straits.” Nathaniel said, drawing her attention. “Miss Petroff has obligingly liberated me from my current predicament with one minor exception.”
Ginelle paled, her stomach churning with dread as she stiffened in his grasp. “I have to keep my end of the bargain.” He said and than he started forward, dragging her along as he started towards one of the carriages.
“No!” she cried, “Nathaniel, please!” her plea lodged tight in her throat as she struggled in vain to escape his clutches.
He reached out and jerked the carriage door open and shoved her abruptly inside, slamming it closed before attracting unwanted attention.
Frightened, Ginelle stared dumbfounded at the door, her heart pounding forcefully against her chest as she struggled to catch her breath.
Suddenly, her skin prickled in alarm for although the carriage was dark with the curtains drawn closed, she felt the presence of another concealed in the small compartment.
“I tired of these cat and mouse games, kitten.” The voice that spoke from the darkness sent an alarming rush of terror down her spine as the curtains were wrenched apart, revealing the recipient of all her fears.
**********