THE PAINTING OF Beau had been lifted to a place of distinction on the easel, and it was where Cerynise’s gaze was focused as she sipped tea in the loneliness of her studio. No one knew how much she yearned to have the real man sitting across from her, but that would never be now. He was probably destined to become Germaine’s husband, and they’d no doubt have beautiful, dark-haired children who would have rightful claim to their father’s name.
Cerynise blinked away a start of tears and, taking a deep breath, determined that she wouldn’t cry again, at least not for another moment…or hopefully, even two. Cora was outside, taking in the clothes. With the wind that had sprung up, tiny twigs and dead branches were constantly being flung against the windows or falling onto the roof. The noise had ceased to startle Cerynise, for she was far more apprehensive about the storm that was sweeping toward them. Her dread deepened apace with her gloom as dark clouds continued to roil overhead and lightning sizzled in jagged streaks across the sky. The rumble of distant thunder grew steadily louder as it followed the flashes of light making their way toward the city. With the flying debris bombarding the house, she was surrounded by a wild cacophony of different noises, so much so that she wasn’t even motivated to investigate a distant rapping. A moment earlier she had responded to a similar noise and had gone to the front door to see if a visitor was there, only to find a broken branch rattling down the steep roof.
Yet in the midst of all of this chaos, unbelievably, a keen awareness swept over her, causing Cerynise to lower her teacup shakily to its saucer. She wanted to turn and search the hallway behind her for the familiar figure, but she knew the foolishness of that farfetched idea. No one would be there. Beau Birmingham had gone out of her life like the dousing of a candle. Indeed, if she went to live in another city, they would probably never see each other again.
Tears blurred her vision, and as much as she tried to halt them, they quickly erupted into harsh sobs that shook her whole frame. With an agonized whine, she shoved the teacup and saucer aside and, folding her arms upon the table, buried her face within them. She wept bitterly, her shoulders shaking with the violence of her sorrow.
A soft thump on the table beside her startled Cerynise, and she sat back with a sharp gasp, her tears for the moment forgotten. She wasn’t at all certain what had happened, but when she could blink away some of the moisture from her eyes, she saw a small stack of torn papers that she could only guess were remnants of what used to be a sheaf of documents. She picked up one curiously and saw her own signature on one section and then Beau’s on another. Then she saw the word annulment. Could it be? But how…?
Catching hold of the back of her chair, Cerynise turned upon the seat and saw a tall, broad-shouldered form advancing toward her from the doorway. She blinked, wiping desperately at her tears, and somehow managed to push herself to her feet despite the trembling limbs that threatened to give way beneath her. Then she saw Beau’s smiling face and his arms extended toward her, and all of heaven opened up to her. In an instant she was flying into his embrace and being lifted off her feet. She wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. Laughing and crying crazily, she covered his face with ecstatic kisses. Then his searching mouth snared hers, and it became a wild, ravenous meeting of lips and tongues, a hungry consuming search that left Cerynise fairly faint with joy as he held her closely against him and slowly turned in a circle in the middle of the room. Finally she drew away for a breath.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she whispered, brushing her lips across his brow, down his lean nose and pressing them once again to his mouth.
“Why did you sign the papers?” Beau asked huskily between her teary, salt-tinged kisses.
Cerynise leaned back in his arms to look at him. “I thought you wanted me to.”
“Never!”
“Never?” She frowned in confusion. “But why…why did you sign them?”
“Because it seemed that you were demanding them.”
“But that was only because I knew you wouldn’t be able to get an annulment if we waited much longer.” She gulped, hoping she wouldn’t destroy their happiness by what she was about to tell him. “I know you don’t remember making love to me during your illness, but we made a baby together, Beau, and my condition is getting very noticeable.”
Beau stood her to her feet and turned her about until her front side was silhouetted against the storm-darkened light streaming through the windows. His hand followed the gentle curve of her belly, and as she awaited his reaction in suspenseful trepidation, he began to grin and then to chuckle. “Many times I wanted to ask you if I had dreamed it all or if I had actually made love to you. I remembered bits and parts, but I was half-afraid I was fantasizing, and I could only imagine that my inquiries would convince you that I was a lecher.”
“’Twould seem our marriage has often been foiled by our own reticence.” Cerynise tilted her head aslant as she peered up at him. “In fact, the way Germaine left here after she took a close look at me, I thought she’d search you out posthaste to tell you the news.”
Beau laid his arms around his wife’s slender shoulders and pulled her close again. “Aye, she did, but she only gave me the proof I needed to hold you in our marriage. Had I known sooner you were carrying my child, I’d never have consented to an annulment.”
“Even though it meant losing your freedom?” she queried timidly.
“Freedom be damned,” Beau rejoined, and then stated emphatically, “I lost all interest in my freedom as a bachelor soon after we were married. I began to want you as my wife on a permanent basis, and that’s the way it will be from now on.”
“Oh, how happy that makes me!” Cerynise exclaimed joyfully, slipping her arms around his waist and snuggling close.
“Is your uncle here?” he asked, pressing his cheek against her hair.
“No, he’s been gone for several hours now, and I really don’t have any idea when he’ll be back.”
“Then we’ll leave him a note if he’s not here by the time we’ve finished packing your belongings.”
Cerynise pulled back again to search his sun-bronzed face. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home! Our home, where you belong.”
“And my paints…”
“We’re taking everything. I’ve got my carriage outside waiting for us, and I’d like to leave before it starts raining.” Even as reluctant as he was to turn her loose, he was even more anxious to get her home with him. “Where are your trunks?”
“Upstairs in my room.”
Beau took her hand. “Show me.”
Cerynise was soon escorting him upstairs, a climb that was just long enough to permit a little marital familiarity. Laying a slender hand over the much larger one that inspected the tautness of her breast, she smiled up at him. “Still rutting, I see.”
“Aye,” he acknowledged huskily, meeting her gaze. He raised a dark brow inquiringly. “Do you have any arguments against me indulging my husbandly rights?”
“None in the least, sir,” she murmured with a smile as she swept her own hand down the front of him, making him catch his breath at the sudden pleasure she evoked.
“As long as I can indulge a few wifely ones as well.”
Greatly relieved, Beau nuzzled her neck. “By all means, madam, but let us not tarry here lest we shock your Uncle Sterling out of his scholarly wits.”
Once in her bedroom they began packing her clothes, and soon Beau was toting her trunks down the stairs. Returning to her bedroom once more, he found her trying to lift one of the heavier satchels. He quickly relieved her of it.
“Madam, believe it or not, I’m quite capable of carrying everything you’ve packed if you’d but give me the chance,” he gently scolded. “You’ll have to think of our child from now on and refrain from exerting yourself. Now, while I’m getting the rest of your paintings and supplies, you’d better write a note to your uncle and tell him the annulment is off and that you’ll be living with me from now on as my lawfully wedded wife.”
Cerynise made no attempt to subdue her grin. “Aye aye, Captain!”
Beau gave her a wink above his own wide grin. “Good girl.”
In less than an hour they were in the carriage and on their way at a brisk pace. Upon their arrival at his residence, Beau lifted his wife down and then hefted a trunk on his shoulder as Cerynise paused to look at the house. At present, several large trees around the structure were being buffeted by the wind, but she gave little heed to the gusts with her husband near. It was a large Georgian-style mansion surrounded by a pleasant garden behind a wrought iron fence, situated well back from the street to assure both privacy and serenity. The weatherboards were painted white, the shutters on either side of the windows a deep forest green, and the front door a matching hue trimmed in white beneath a fanlight of cut crystal depicting a vessel under full sail. In all, the residence reminded her of a countryside estate though it was located only a short stroll from Charleston’s busy wharves.
Cerynise smiled up at her husband. “Oh, Beau, I feel like a princess being brought home to a castle.”
“Well, in that case, madam, you should be shown in royally,” he replied, setting the trunk on end and motioning Thomas to fetch the others. When Beau turned back, he swept his wife up into his arms and bore her swiftly to the door as the rain began in earnest.
In the entrance, he set her to her feet. “Why don’t you look around a bit while Thomas and I carry in your things? If it’s all right, I’ll put your paintings and oils in my study. You can work in there if you find the amount of light acceptable.”
“But won’t I be disturbing you if I do?”
“You may, but only because I’ll be indulging my second favorite pastime…watching you.”
Cerynise giggled. “I need not ask what your first is.”
“That will come shortly,” he promised her warmly.
She ran to open the door for Thomas, who was struggling with her largest trunk. Then, as Beau and the driver returned to the carriage for the rest of her baggage, she looked around at the rich, tasteful appointments. Cerynise couldn’t have imagined herself not liking the interior, for Beau, in his own right, was an artist of exceptional abilities. He had a keen eye for elegant furnishings and decor and applied that talent well. An entrance hall with a beautiful floor of variegated marble in tones of white, gray and magenta opened onto a more spacious, airy central hall where a curving staircase, replete with polished mahogany steps and handrail that sat atop gracefully turned spindles of white, twined gracefully upward to a second-story landing. The interior woodwork was painted white, and abundant greenery complemented it. Everywhere she looked, Aubusson carpets were plentiful, and furnishings of Chippendale, Queen Anne and similar pieces were fully in evidence throughout.
Once again Cerynise returned to the front portal and held it open for the men. They carried in the last of her trunks, satchels and paintings just in time, for the rain, driven by the wind, had begun to pelt the windows. Thomas ran out to bring the carriage around to the back, leaving Cerynise to close the door behind him. With a vivacious smile, she turned to face her husband. “You leave nothing for a wife to do but stare in awe,” she said with pride. “The interior is even more lovely than the exterior.”
“Want to see the bedroom?” Beau invited with a teasing leer.
Her eyes shone as she scanned the length of him. “Only if you’re willing to show it to me.”
“I’m eager to show you a lot more than that,” he assured her with a chuckle. “But Philippe is in the kitchen, and he’ll want to see you ere I whisk you upstairs. The way I’ve been yearning for you, it may be another week before I allow you to leave my bedroom. I’m definitely not going to tolerate any interruptions until I’ve sated my every craving.” Beau stepped near, and his wife lifted her face expectantly. He lowered a soft, warm kiss upon her lips before he urged huskily, “Now hurry, my love. Go see Philippe while I get your baggage upstairs. Then we can be alone together.”
The kiss was so nice Cerynise wanted more and rose on tiptoes to steal another. Her husband readily accommodated her, this time making it far more sensual as his tongue slipped inward to play chase with hers. When he drew back, it seemed she had no strength of her own, for she leaned heavily against him.
“More,” she pleaded wistfully.
“I dare not, madam, lest you’d have me wear your skirts.”
“Beast,” she fussed with a pretty pout as she rubbed herself against him.
“Wench,” he whispered back, smiling as he brush his lips against her temples. “Ere long, you’ll have my heart in your hot, greedy hands if you don’t desist, my winsome wench. I’m not two seconds away from taking you upstairs and pleasuring myself with you. Philippe and your trunks be damned.”
Cerynise heaved a sigh, exaggerating her disappointment. “I suppose I must leave you since you put duty before pleasure.”
Beau’s eyes glowed as he watched her wander dreamily toward the kitchen. He could only marvel at the significant change that had taken place since he had let himself into her uncle’s house. His knock on the front door had gone unanswered for several moments, and when he had finally ventured in and traversed the hall in search of his wife, he had found her seated at a table in a back room, staring dejectedly at his painting. She had reminded him of a small child who had been severely rebuked, for with shoulders hunched, her slender frame had clearly conveyed an attitude of defeat. He had expected her to turn at any moment after she had straightened, for he could have sworn that she had sensed his presence, but what had followed had nearly torn his heart. He couldn’t remember ever having heard a woman sob with such deep, harrowing anguish.
Her cheery voice now came from the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Philippe? Where are you?”
“Madame Birmingham?” the chef cried in surprise. He ran into the corridor and, upon seeing her, took both her hands in his and liberally pressed happy kisses to them. “Oh, it is so excellent to see you, madame.” Immediately cautious of what he was about to say with her husband in the house, he slipped into his native French and began to confide how the captain had nearly sunk into the depths of despair without her warm glow lighting his life. “He would not eat, madame, and drank far more than he ever did.” Then with a knowing smile and an upward flick of eyebrows, Philippe sighed. “Ahh, l’amour.”
“Cerynise?” Beau called from upstairs some moments later.
“Coming,” she answered happily, and blew a kiss to the chef as she pushed through the swinging door. The storm was now upon them, but she hardly noticed as she hurried into the hallway. Beau was waiting for her at the landing above the stairs, and when she came into view, he held out a hand to hasten her flight. The windows behind him displayed roiling black clouds, and now and then, streaks of lightning tore across the sky, ending in great, bellowing peals of thunder. The wind was equally as fierce, but even with her fear of such turbulence, Cerynise could think of nothing but being in her husband’s arms.
She was breathless by the time she arrived, but the radiance in her eyes evidenced the precise cause. Taking her by the hand, Beau whisked her into the master bedroom of his home and then nudged the door closed behind him. He reached around to lock it and, leaning back against the sturdy plank, pulled her within his embrace and kissed her with all the passion he had been saving up for her alone. His fingers freed her hair, and then he was lifting her up in his arms and carrying her to his bed. He stood her to her feet beside it, and immediately they were seized by a frenzied haste to undress one another. Soon they faced each other in all their naked glory. Cerynise’s hands moved down the hard length of her husband’s body in admiration while he stroked her soft breasts and covered her with greedy kisses. In the next moment they were wrapped in each other’s arms and tumbling to the mattress. This time, there was no lengthy, tantalizing prelude, for Beau had endured an agonizing abstinence and wanted nothing to hinder their union. His wife was soft and willing, and he was hard and ready. There was enough kissing, tasting and handling to elicit sharp gasps of pleasure from each as they boldly searched out familiar territory. Then Beau was loving her in a most physical way and snatching her breath with his fierce ardor. In the midst of their intimacy everything came flooding back to him in a newly awakening reality, her panting breath in his ear, her nails digging into his back, her silken limbs entwining his hips…it was just as he had thought he had dreamed it.
Though the storm continued to rage outside, they lay in each other’s arms, kissing, touching and whispering. Beau finally questioned her about what he now suspected to be true, and Cerynise confirmed that they were no illusions he had had, for she had actually sat beside his bed that night luxuriating in her new wifely state. He also told her of the many times he had tried to question her about it, but she had refused to accept his invitations. Cerynise was rather appalled at her countless blunders. If not for her mistakes, they could have been enjoying the intimacy of marriage months ago.
She snuggled against her husband’s side and idly caressed his chest. “Do you hate me for what I almost did to us?”
“Hate you?” Beau was incredulous. “Good heavens, woman, can’t you understand by now how much I love you?”
Bracing up on his chest, Cerynise searched his handsome face. “It’s not just your rutting instincts?”
His hand caressed her naked back. “If it were, my dear, I would have been able to find appeasement with any woman, but I wanted no one but you.…You’ve held my mind ensnared from that moment I put you into my bed and brought you close to my heart.”
“The day we were married, you mean.”
“No, the night I carried you aboard my ship.”
“So long ago?”
“Aye.”
Cerynise traced a finger along the hard ridges of his muscular chest. “You must know I’ve been in love with you ever since I was a child.”
His dark eyebrows lifted in a small shrug. “I had always thought that, but you led me to believe otherwise when you wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“I was afraid you’d hate me if I got with child. You’d have felt obligated to do the gentlemanly thing.…”
“So you were willing to let our child be born a bastard rather than tell me that you had gotten pregnant? Madam, you must think me a cad to have gone to such lengths to hide that fact from me.”
“How could I possibly think you a cad when I’m sure the sun rises and sets just for you?”
Without another word, Beau turned with her, pressing her flat upon the bed as he rose up on an elbow beside her. He gently caressed her breasts, noticing again how much firmer they had become since her pregnancy. His hand moved downward to examine the gentle roundness of her small belly, affirming once more that it was true, that she was going to bear him a child. He needed no further proof, but the sudden hard knot that formed beneath his palm made them both laugh. He slipped farther down into the bed and pressed the side of his face close against her stomach to listen.
“He’s kicking me.” Cerynise giggled and moved her husband’s hand over the spot. “Do you feel him?”
“Aye, I do,” he replied, and chuckled as he pressed his lips to the place. “Papa’s first kiss.”
One kiss led to another and soon his tongue and mouth were tracing upward over his wife’s body until they blended with hers in an erotic exchange that left them both heady with desire. Quickening fires were lit beneath provocative caresses and titillating kisses until Beau rolled, pulling her on top of him. Cerynise caught her breath at the sensations aroused within her as he settled her over the hardened shaft and directed her hips in a long, languid caress of his loins. His mouth greedily claimed a soft peak, and the fires of passion leapt higher still, sweeping away her restraints. Slipping her forearms beneath her heavy tresses, she lifted the tawny length above her head, capturing his gaze. Her lips curved in a sensual smile as she looked into his lusting eyes and moved her hips in a slow, undulating motion, much like a dancer before an Arabian prince. The hotly pulsing flame within her quickened her blood until her movements became more concentrated and increasingly forceful, igniting their fervor. His hands seized her breasts as he rose up beneath her, and soon their passions were soaring out of control, driving them onward until their harsh gasps were finally muted and became soft, blissful sighs of contentment.
Beau was certain he had never experienced the like of such fulfillment. He also knew he wouldn’t have traded all the freedom in the world for what he now held within his arms, his wife, his mate for life. She had been delightfully creative in her innocence, and he could only imagine, with a little more instruction, that she’d entangle his mind so thoroughly that he’d be willing to yield her anything for a few moments in her embrace.
“How would you like to accompany me on another voyage after our baby is born?”
Cerynise didn’t even have to think about his question. “Oh, yes! That would be absolutely heavenly…that is, as long as I don’t get seasick again.”
His finger sketched a pale pink nipple. “I had thought you were pretty much over that until your last bout.”
Cerynise smiled up at him. “I don’t think that particular sickness was caused by the motion of the sea, my love. By that time, I had already begun to suspect that I was with child after missing my monthly.”
“Did you always come at a regular time?”
Cerynise was somewhat amazed that he was so knowledgeable about women. “Yes, but how…”
Beau chuckled at her naiveté. “You’d be amazed what boys talk about while they’re growing up, my love. But then, I also had a sister a couple or so years younger. As much as it appalled our mother, Suzanne would fly into a rage whenever I’d tease her about hiding out in her room. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she was suffering a woman’s curse and threatened to pray it down on me, too. I never dreamed her threats would have much effect, but I suppose a husband must endure monthly self-restraints when his wife isn’t pregnant.” He feigned a thoughtful frown as he measured her small belly. “We’ll have to become a little more creative when you grow too round to mount, madam.”
Happy laughter spilled from her lips. “With your propensities, my lecherous husband, I don’t think I’ll have too much time between the birth of one and the conceiving of another.”
“Definitely a possibility, madam, but then, I can afford as many as our love may bear.”
“I’ll likely be having more than a fair share of them while you’re away sailing the seas.”
“One more voyage, madam, and then Mr. Oaks will captain the Audacious,” he promised. “I have found something I love far more than sailing to distant climes. I want to be wherever you are.”
Lifting her gaze again to his, she searched his face. “But what will you do if you give up sailing?”
Beau chuckled. “Stay at home and make love to you.”
Cerynise caressed the hard, muscular ridges of his chest once again. “And when you’re not doing that?”
“My uncle would like me to help him out at his shipping company. His two sons haven’t shown much interest in doing so as yet. The oldest one definitely prefers managing their plantation. Uncle Jeff said he’d give me a full partnership if I wanted it. But then, of course, my own father would like me to help him run the plantation.”
“You won’t miss the sea?”
“Not with you beside me.”
She nestled close against his long body and murmured drowsily, “Then I will endeavor to make your existence on land as interesting as possible, sir.”
“And I will attempt to do the same for you, madam,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her brow.
It wasn’t long before Beau heard the soft, steady breathing of his young wife and realized she had fallen asleep in his arms. With great care, he drew the sheet up over them and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off in sweet, relaxing slumber, the best he had had in some time.
A soft rap of knuckles against the door tore Beau from dreams that were very much like those he had savored only a pair of hours ago. Sliding ever so cautiously from his wife’s side, he snatched on his trousers, padded barefoot across the rug to the door, and opened it a crack. Philippe was standing at the threshold looking very apologetic.
“Excusez-moi, Capitaine, but your father is here. I asked him to wait for you in your study.”
Beau nodded sleepily. “Tell him I’ll be right down. Can you make us some coffee?”
“Oui, Capitaine.”
Closing the portal, Beau stumbled into the dressing room, splashed cold water onto his face and then brushed his teeth. Garbed just as he was, he went downstairs.
If not for a definite graying at his temples which contrasted handsomely with his black hair, Brandon Birmingham could have passed for a man twenty years his junior. His sun-bronzed face seemed amazingly free of wrinkles, with only a slight deepening of crow’s-feet at the corners of his black-lashed, green eyes. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was still taut and muscular, evidence of an active, hardworking man.
Brandon had been staring out of the window at the churning sky, mulling over what he needed to say to his son. After Professor Kendall’s visit, he had done a lot of thinking back on his own life, especially that moment when he had been threatened with harsh consequences if he refused to do the right thing by the pregnant girl whose virginity he had taken while under the mistaken belief that she was a harlot. The intimidation had served to arouse his ire and spite, which he had later taken out on Heather soon after they were married. He recognized the fact that his son had inherited not only his looks and his larger frame but his temperament as well. Because of that, he knew that force was not a judicious way to handle a delicate situation with his offspring.
“Afternoon, Pa,” Beau mumbled, smothering a yawn as he passed through the open door of his study.
Brandon’s eyebrows lifted in sharp surprise as he faced his son and saw that he was only half dressed. “’Tis a poor late hour in the day for you to be rising from bed, son. Are you ill?”
“No.” Beau shook his head. “Just trying to catch up on a little sleep. I didn’t go to bed till dawn.”
Though he wasn’t necessarily proud of the fact, Brandon also knew his son had followed too closely in his footsteps to imagine that he was a teetotaler in regard to spirits and women. It seemed practical to assume that his firstborn had been too busy indulging those propensities during the past evening to get any sleep.
Philippe entered with a silver tray bearing the coffee service and, after pouring each man a cup, took his leave.
Brandon downed his in a hurry, and then cleared his throat, not knowing exactly where to begin. He settled on a more direct approach. “Professor Kendall came to see me today.”
“Oh?” Beau’s brows gathered in some bemusement. “What did he want with you?”
“To talk, mainly about you. When you came out to deliver Cerynise’s painting, you never mentioned the fact that you had married the girl. Why?”
Beau swallowed another sip of the hot brew before he shrugged his naked shoulders. “I didn’t want Mama to get her hopes up when an annulment was in the offing.”
Brandon had had the task of explaining to his wife instead, at least as much as he had been told from Sterling’s point of view. So far as Heather was concerned, there was only one problem with Beau: He spent too much time away from Charleston. Otherwise, he couldn’t possibly do any wrong, at least not in her eyes. She had been certain that he would do the right thing by Cerynise without interference, but Sterling had all but insisted that Brandon talk to his son, since no gentleman would even dare consider an annulment after taking a wife to bed. “Your mother always thought well of Cerynise. In fact, she’d like it very much if you kept the girl as your wife.”
“You mean you discussed everything with her?” Beau queried in some amazement. He knew well enough what conclusions his mother probably came to after the good professor went and babbled about the intended separation.
Despite the tenseness he felt over the situation, Brandon managed a chuckle. “I’m sorry if that distresses you, Beau, but you should know by now that there is very little your mother and I don’t discuss together.”
Beau had long known his parents were very close. Throughout the years they had shared a love so profound that he had come to believe that he would never discover such devotion for himself, but since Cerynise had reentered his life, he was of a different mind entirely. He was also aware that his parents were in a habit of conferring on matters pertaining to their family, but in this situation, it just seemed that his father should have consulted him before causing his mother to fret.
Brandon eyed his son before stating carefully, “I think you and your sisters are well aware that your mother and I are very devoted to each other, but that hasn’t always been the case.”
It was a full moment before his father’s words registered on Beau and alerted him with a faint prickling of his senses. While living at home, he had overheard bits and parts of vague allusions to something that had happened very early in his parents’ marriage or, perhaps, even before. Uncle Jeff had seemed wont to tease his brother about whatever had occurred back then, but no one had ever cared to enlighten the offspring of that union, and whenever Beau had asked what they were talking about, he had always been told that his father would tell him one day. He had a feeling this was the day.
“What was the case exactly?” Beau inquired cautiously, not at all certain at this point that he wanted to know. He set his coffee cup aside, lending his sire his undivided attention.
Brandon went back to stand near the window and looked out once again as the slashing rain pelted the window. With a sigh he finally faced his son. “There was a time when I was forced to do the honorable thing by your mother, and as a result, my own stubborn pride caused a great conflict between us. Heather was clearly afraid of me, and my resentment and anger incited much of that fear.”
Beau stared at his father, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You mean Mama was pregnant with me before the both of you were married?”
Even after so long a time, Brandon still suffered the blushing heat of deep chagrin over what he had done to the young girl who had been brought aboard his ship. “Aye.”
In all of his years, Beau had never experienced a moment of greater shock. He knew his parents were human beings. Even now, they were susceptible to being surprised during an intimate caress or a passionate kiss, but they seemed so honorable and respectable that he was stunned to learn that there had been a time when they had seriously transgressed the accepted boundaries of morality.
Very carefully Beau questioned his parent. “Are you telling me that Mama was your mistress before she became your wife?”
“Absolutely not!” Brandon shook his head emphatically. “It was what I wanted from her after I took her into my bed, but she would have none of it. She ran away from me instead. No, it was entirely different from that.…” He fell silent as he realized he was probably confusing the issue. What he needed to do was to start from the beginning. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the mire of the story. “I had just docked in London and was feeling in need of some feminine companionship. Unbeknownst to me, Heather had been brought to the city under false pretenses and threatened with assault by her aunt’s brother. In defending herself she became convinced that she had killed the man and fled in fear. She was found wandering on the docks by two of my men who mistook her for what she most definitely was not.”
“But when you realized their mistake, surely you—”
“I didn’t realize she was an innocent until too late. Even then, I believed she had been led to sell her virginity.…” His skin darkened perceptibly. “It must be obvious what I thought. At any rate, I played the rutting stag and acted reprehensibly, even to the point of trying to force her to stay with me. She escaped me, and when next she was hauled before me, it was not only her aunt and uncle demanding satisfaction, but a prominent lord who had the ability to hinder my departure from England. I could do nothing else but placate their wishes. I took my resentment out on Heather, making her dread the very sight of me. I told her that I would own up to the fact that she was bearing my child, but in all other areas she would be no wife to me at all. I kept my distance, vowing no woman would get the better of me.” He laughed harshly. “Except the more I was around her, the more I wanted her, and it became a torturous rack that I had made for myself. She was everything I had dreamed of as a woman, and yet it wasn’t until after you were born that I finally submitted to what my heart was urging me to do. During that time I never once touched another woman, nor have I since.…”
Beau couldn’t help himself. His amusement was too much to bear in silence, and his laughter came spilling out, causing his father to cringe in growing discomfiture. For all that Brandon Birmingham was his father, Beau realized he was a man like himself, possessed of a fiery nature and a keen appreciation of the joys a woman could provide. The idea that he had kept his distance from his beautiful wife for nigh to a year was absolutely on the far side of astounding.
“The reason I tell you this,” Brandon continued with a rueful smile, “is to warn you against the folly of making the same kind of mistake with Cerynise as I once made with your mother. Sterling Kendall has assured us that his niece is an honorable young woman who is in love with you. But he strongly suspects that she is carrying your child and, for some mysterious reason of her own, will not tell you that fact even though it may mean the babe will be born a bastard after the annulment. If you truly believe she is pregnant with your child, then search your heart well before you abandon your offspring and its mother to the consequences those two will surely reap.”
“Some changes have occurred which I think you should know about, Pa—”
Beau’s words were rudely interrupted by a loud, insistent tapping of the front door knocker, which was quickly followed by Philippe’s frantic assurances that he was coming. As the portal was swung open, a voice barked irately from the entrance hall.
“Where is he?”
“Excusez-moi, monsieur. Do you mean le capitaine?” Philippe inquired, sounding a trifle haughty, as if he had been deeply offended by the other man’s harsh demand.
“Capitaine, ha! I have better names for that despicable scoundrel!”
“I will see if le capitaine is at home,” the chef replied stiltedly. “If you would identify yourself—”
“Kendall! Professor Kendall!”
Upon hearing the name, Beau hastened from the study, followed by his father, and gestured for Philippe to let the visitor in. The gray-haired professor seemed clearly distraught as he stalked through the foyer. Upon espying Beau, the elder approached him with glaring eyes. Since an angry confrontation seemed imminent, Philippe took himself briskly back to the kitchen, having no doubt that his captain could handle the situation without any help or listening ears.
“My niece has left for parts unknown! She has packed up her belongings and taken off like a scalded pup.” By this time Sterling Kendall was close enough to jab a forefinger repeatedly into Beau’s naked chest as he asked angrily, “It is your child she’s carrying, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m sure Cerynise has fled to another town,” Sterling raged on, giving the younger man no chance to explain. “I can’t much blame her for not wanting to face the trauma of bearing your child without a name to give it. The very idea that you would even consider an annulment under the circumstances makes me ashamed that I once mistook you for an honorable gentleman.”
“Beau?” a muted feminine voice called worriedly from upstairs. “Where are you?”
Beau could imagine that his wife was frightened by the storm after being left alone, and he raised his head to allow his voice to carry to the upper rooms. “I’m down here.”
Abruptly Sterling came to his own conclusions and, facing Brandon, jeered in distaste, “No wonder your son didn’t want to tie himself down to my niece. He’s too busy entertaining all the other women.”
Brandon was just as surprised as the professor and glanced at his son with a curious brow raised.
Beau held out a hand toward the interior door that he and his father had just stepped through a moment ago. “Professor Sterling, perhaps you’d care to come into my study, where we can discuss this matter rationally.…”
“Aren’t you anxious-to get back to your little doxy?” Sterling queried sarcastically.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Beau casually assured the man. “Now, please, come in here where we can talk.”
Brandon wasn’t at all certain that he shouldn’t join Philippe, considering the present predicament his son had gotten himself into, but when Beau motioned for him to follow, he reluctantly complied. He was the last one through the door and made no effort to close it as he paced forward uneasily.
“You didn’t find a note from Cerynise?” Beau questioned, facing the professor.
“There was none that I know of,” Sterling rejoined tersely.
“In your study…”
“A blasted mess with that limb breaking a window and all my papers scattered about the house. I was too worried about Cerynise to do anything more than board up the window. If my niece left any kind of note there, then it will probably be weeks before I find it.”
Beau glanced toward his father, who seemed to be having some difficulty settling down. Perhaps Sterling’s accusations were coming too close to home for his sire to feel at ease with what the man was saying.
“Beau?” the feminine voice came again in a hushed, wavering tone, this time from the area of the parlor.
“In the study,” he called in response, realizing that Cerynise was searching the house for him.
Sterling rose to his feet, muttering sourly, “I’d better go so you can get back to your little wench.”
Beau waved the man back in his chair. “I think you should meet this little wench.”
He stepped outside the door and beckoned to his wife. “Come in here, my love. I have someone to whom I want to introduce you.”
“Oh, but, Beau, I’m not dressed,” Cerynise whispered in protest, clutching the collar of his robe up close around her neck. Her feet were bare, and her long hair was a tousled, swirling mess that fairly bedazzled the eye. “I can’t meet anyone looking like this.”
“I insist,” he announced, holding out his arm invitingly. As she came near, he slid his hand to the small of her back, where it rested comfortably as he propelled her into his study.
“Cerynise!” her uncle gasped upon seeing her. Immediately he pushed himself to his feet as his eyes swept her in amazement. Then he glanced toward Beau to consider the younger man’s inadequate attire. It was all too obvious what the two had been doing in the middle of the afternoon. He blustered, his face burning. “’Twould seem you’ve been disturbed.”
“Cerynise, I’d like for you to meet my father,” Beau said, turning her to face his sire.
“Pa, this is my wife, Cerynise.”
Self-consciously she clasped the edges of the voluminous robe together and dipped into a nervous curtsy. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Birmingham.”
“Well, I’ll be dam—”
Beau cleared his throat and grinned pointedly at his father, who usually tried to restrain himself around young ladies. Brandon was visibly apologetic, evidenced by his wry smile and the sharp quirk in his eyebrow.
“It must run in the family,” Cerynise quipped with a teasing gleam in her eye.
“You’re looking at the one from whom I learned it,” Beau assured her.
“Your pardon, Cerynise,” Brandon begged, bending forward in a shallow bow. “My son seems to delight in astounding me out of my senses.”
She chuckled in sympathy. “I’ve had the same experience, sir.”
“Your wife, you say,” Sterling challenged, drawing their attention. “Does that mean the annulment is off?”
“Aye,” Beau affirmed with a grin. “And we’re extremely sorry that you didn’t get our note. I went to fetch Cerynise this afternoon and helped to pack up her possessions. She made a point of leaving the missive in your study, but no telling where it is now.” He paused briefly at his wife’s perplexed frown and explained what had happened. Then he directed his attention once more to her uncle. “I think you should know that neither Cerynise nor I wanted to be separated from one another, but we were both confused by what the other wanted. We beg your apology for worrying you; we worried ourselves no less.”
“You’ll have to tell your mother all of this yourself,” Brandon broke in. “Tomorrow night at dinner will hardly be soon enough. If you have other plans, you’d better cancel them. Your mother is not going to take it kindly if she doesn’t get to meet her new daughter-in-law very, very soon.”
Beau chuckled. “We’ll be out, Pa.”
Brandon stepped forward and, taking Cerynise’s hand, gallantly bestowed a kiss upon it. “You do us up proud, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mr. Birmingham.”
“Pa will do,” he assured her. “Beau’s the only one who calls me that, so I give you leave to do the same.” His handsome lips twitched with amusement as he winked at her and added drolly, “That boy likes to make me feel old at times just to test my temper, but he knows that’s a damned lot of nonsense.”
Cerynise clapped a hand over her mouth to subdue her laughter, but it did little good as Beau threw back his head and gave way to his own mirth. They were soon in each other’s arms, relenting to their gaiety as Sterling Kendall joined in.