Chapter Eight
“Dear God this church is stifling, and I’m not even the one getting married,” James muttered to Nick.
“Shut up, James.”
James chuckled. Beads of sweat glistened on the young Captain’s brow, whether from wedding jitters or the insufferable humidity James couldn’t be sure. Resisting the urge to stick a finger or two beneath his own stiff collar, James clasped his hands behind his back sweeping a gaze over the wedding goers packed into the pews. Several women waved fans in futile attempt to move the stifling air. James stood on the first step beneath the altar, just below Nick, he couldn’t imagine how miserable the seats in the pews must be.
Restless murmurs rose up from the crowd of would be well-wishers. “I wish they’d get on with it. What is taking so long?”
James couldn’t agree more with the disgruntled sentiments. Perhaps the bride had gotten nervous and fled the church. If such were the case, he certainly couldn’t blame her. Not that he’d voice the thought aloud. Nick hardly seemed in the mood for a good joke. Pity. James had a string of witticisms—
The door behind the altar slammed. Reverend Alistair rushed into the assembly hall in a flurry of oversized, ill-fitted robes. He approached the gray haired woman seated patiently at the pianoforte and whispered into her ear. The pianist nodded, straightened her spine, and placed her fingers over the keys.
Finally.
A collective sigh of relief suffused the church as the frazzled reverend—spectacles askew and hair mussed—stepped up to the altar, and nodded. A moment later the pianist rolled into a respectable rendition of Pachelbel’s Cannon.
James snapped to attention as the wide double doors at the back of the church swung open. Two adorable girls—perhaps five years old—dressed in white gowns with blue flowers weaved through their chocolate hair stepped into the aisle followed by… Phoebe.
James’s heart stuttered and all but arrested.
The devil help him, she was a vision. Swathed all in lavender silk, she commanded every aspect of his attention from the serene expression she wore to the set of her hands holding the bouquet of spring forget-me-night. He could do naught but stare as she glided down the aisle, carving the path for the bride, her every movement graceful and fluid like a song. The pale length of her hair swept up in a gentle chignon while a few soft tendrils floated down in slender spirals, kissing her neck. Oh, how he envied those strands their proximity to her willowy throat. He’d give his left thumb to graze that wickedly smooth flesh again, and be surrounded in the soothing scent of lavender. Her beautiful eyes lifted to him, glittering and tender, and he could almost believe she walked for him. His feeble heart stumbled back to life. Beat anew. Beat for her. Lost, James all but forgot his purpose. He had eyes only for Phoebe.
“I envy you, Collins,” James murmured.
“Have eyes for my Sarah do you?”
“I envy that tonight you shall take the woman you want to bed.”
* * *
A fat rain drop splattered square across Phoebe’s forehead the moment she stepped out of the church after the ceremony. She glared up at the soupy black clouds roiling above them, silently commanding the storm to hold off long enough to get to Sarah’s home for the wedding dinner.
Well-wishers milled merrily about the churchyard, oblivious to the impending storm, laughing and surrounding Sarah.
“Lady Phoebe.”
Startled, Phoebe whirled. “Captain Collins.” She smiled warmly. “Congratulations. The ceremony was beautiful.”
He bowed his head graciously.
Phoebe laughed. “Why are you standing in the rain with me? Should you not be with your bride?”
“I will join her again shortly,” Nick said. “However, there is something I wish to ask you about.”
Surprised and curious, Phoebe all but forgot the sprinkling rain. “Go on.”
“Colonel Witherspoon made an odd statement today that I believe referred to you. Forgive my boldness, Lady Phoebe, but how well do you know him?”
Phoebe blushed. What could James have said about her? “N-not well,” she fumbled. Nick quirked a skeptical brow, fixing her with a firm stare—Phoebe was a deplorable liar and knew it—finally she relented. “I am curious about him.” She shook her head, unsure how to voice her thoughts of the man that proved time and again to be a living contradiction. “What can you tell me of him?”
Nick hesitated for a moment, resting a thoughtful gaze upon her as though judging her worthy of the information he had to share. After a moment Nick shifted his attention toward James. “He saved my life. I was young and newly commissioned, didn’t have a clue about anything, and was deployed to Spain under Colonel Witherspoon’s command.” He laughed. “I will never forget the first time I saw him, stumbling drunk out of a tavern with a wench under each arm, crowing about some bet he’d won.” Nick gave his head a wry shake. “All I could think was God save me, what have I got myself into?” He sobered, growing serious once more. “Within weeks I found myself in the middle of a nasty skirmish. James never left my side. He was steady, encouraging, knew exactly what to do. Without his guidance I would not be here today.”
Phoebe nodded, unsure what to say, simply divesting the information, and hungry to learn more.
“The colonel is a wonderful officer,” Nick continued. “He knows how to lead, how to gain the respect and love of his men. He is not like other officers sitting high upon self-important pedestals. He works alongside his men. If his men sleep on the ground, so does he. I have seen James pick up a shovel and work beside the lowliest enlisted men to fortify or build encampments more times than I can count. He never gives an order he isn’t willing to follow through himself. He knows the name of every man beneath his command.” Nick smiled. “Most superior officers disapprove of his methods.”
“They believe familiarity breeds contempt.”
“Precisely.” Nick nodded. “But as a military man, I strive to be like him.”
Phoebe’s gaze drifted to James, handsome and resplendent in his uniform, he knelt in the gravel with an infectious grin on his lips, and appeared to be charming the flower girls. “You’re telling me there is more to him than society would have us believe?”
“There is more to James than he believes himself.” Nick turned serious eyes to her. “I would see him recognize it. Old man Witherspoon ran him down a great deal, I don’t know all the specifics, James keeps personal matters close to the vest, but you are a good person, Phoebe. Like your mother. I think you could help him.”
Phoebe’s gaze drifted back to James, heart filled with compassion, and mayhap something more. She supposed she should be angry after yesterday’s rebuff, but she knew he only pushed her away to protect her.
Phoebe nibbled her lip. Perhaps she didn’t want protecting. All she really wanted was James.
The heavens opened, pouring rain upon the merry lot and spurring everyone to rush to Sarah’s home for the luncheon spread. Phoebe fell to the back of the crowd as did James. Together they dashed through the rain and mud, laughing with all the others. As they approached the house James turned a wicked grin to her.
Without warning he snaked an arm around her waist drawing her beneath the canopy of a large tree. He pressed her back to the fat trunk, stepping close, weaving his arms around her. “Forgive me, Siren,” the husky murmur shot straight to her soul. “I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you.” Before she could respond he captured her lips in a devouring kiss that stole her breath away.
Phoebe melted in an instant, curling her arms around his shoulders and parting her lips in silent summons. Sweet rainwater trickled from his lips to her tongue and she tugged him closer, pressing her body against his unyielding frame. She wanted more. Even through the layers of their damp clothing every toned swell of his muscled frame scorched her like fire.
James broke the kiss and Phoebe stood on tip-toe, seeking his lips once more. He resisted her lure, instead pressing his forehead against hers. He continued to hold her close, ragged breaths leading her to believe he was at the brink of his restraint. “Will you meet me at the cottage today? I have something important to tell you.”
“Of course,” she whispered breathlessly, twining her fingers through the wet locks at his nape. Barely any rain drizzled through the branches of the ancient tree, granting them a sheltered haven of their own. “When?” Phoebe did not wish to go to the party. She longed to linger alone with James, but knew she must make an appearance. Slipping away in the excited merriment would not be difficult later, and no one at home would be suspicious if she did not return until evening.
“One hour.”
The minutes crept by like snails on the sea bottom. Phoebe paced about the party, restless, and eager for the moment she could slip away and meet James. She was acutely aware of his presence and exactly where he was in the room at any given moment. She could feel him, and he seemed as affected as she. Every time she glanced in his direction she found his eyes upon her. She’d flash a covert smile and he’d wink in acknowledgment. It was a fun game. Once he ambled past her, bumping his arm against hers.
“Smile, Phoebe,” he whispered.
She cast him a sheepish grin and drew a long breath, striving for patience. She caught a glimpse of Sarah’s glowing face and a bit of guilt tempered her excitement. This was Sarah’s day after all. Though Phoebe was certain her friend would understand the prospect of falling in love—Sarah may not approve of her choice in men, however. Phoebe locked eyes with her friend and crossed the room to her.
“Oh, Phoebe,” Sarah gushed, grasping her hands. “I cannot remember a day when I’ve smiled so much.”
Phoebe laughed, pulling her friend in for a quick hug. “You deserve this, Sarah. I wish you every happiness.” She pulled back and opened the satin reticule dangling from her wrist. “I made these for you and Nick.” She removed the miniatures.
Sarah gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Phoebe, they’re beautiful!”
“For when he’s away. Though we won’t think of such today.” Phoebe grinned. “Today is your wedding day.”
Sarah grabbed Phoebe in another impulsive hug. “Thank you so much. This means the world to me.”
Phoebe gave her a loving squeeze. “I know.”
“I must show these to Nicholas right away.” Sarah hurried away, weaving through the well-wishers toward her new husband.
Phoebe smiled and glanced about the room. James was gone. Her heart leapt as nervous energy shot through her veins. The time had come for their clandestine meeting.