A fonder memory drifted into Nicholas’smind…of his father’s natural inclination toward his first-born sonas a source of pride. The Duke, sitting at the table after a mealwith a roomful of guests or at his desk with his solicitors andsecretary about. He would pull Nicholas up into his lap to pat andhug him. Sometimes they would ride around the estate to visit thetenants. His father lifting him up on the saddle in front of him,the high-headed bay cantering to the duke’s instruction. He couldstill feel his father’s hand and forearm crooked around his waist.While his father conducted business, Nicholas played with thetenant children. At those times, he was always aware his fatherkept a kind of vigil over him. He would look up from his play tosee his father gazing at him. His father would smile and nod, or hewould raise his hand in a kind of salute. The wonderfulcompanionship he had with his father during his youth was a tenderkindness that he would remember with pleasure and with regret.
Nicholas cut his meat in exact pieces. “Ihad a terrible fight with my father before my abduction. I havemany regrets.”
“What happened?”
“What I had built up inside for a long timeexploded. I told him how he was destroying the family.”
“Go on.”
“Due to my father’s unbending and stubbornnature, my sister, Abigail rebelled, becoming a bit of a hoyden.Nothing bad, but the threat of scandal existed. My father wasadamant on all of us marrying to gain privilege, esteem, and landsto enhance the Rutland name.”
Nicholas stabbed meat from the platter andput it on his plate. “To correct the problem, my father insistedAbigail marry right away, giving her two months to select from manyof the swains who camped on the doorstep. If she didn’t choose aspouse during the allotted time, he’d make the decision forher.”
“Abigail begged him to relent. She did notwant to marry, at least not yet. Stubborn by nature, and driven toextraordinary measures, she faked an engagement to a man she didn’tlove. I confronted my father, insisting he was handling Abigail allwrong. Told him he was being premature and unfair.”
“How did he take that?”
“Not well. The argument burst into ashouting match. I threw out all my pent-up animosity. Absentfather…my brother, Joshua disappearing in the wilderness of theColonies to get away from him…my brother, Anthony pressed to marrya selfish immature shrew who spent troves of his money and, who Isuspected, had cuckolded him. I said everything I could to hurt myfather. Felt good, lashing out at him. The real reason was that Iloathed the dukedom under his reign. I was born to command, felt myabilities in my blood.”
She looked out the window, silent in hercircumspection. His good mood from hours before fell away devolvinginto a morose brooding as another, morbid memory rose that includedkilling a man in self-defense. Not a part of him he was proud of,nor a part of him he’d reveal to her. A breeze rattled palm frondstogether. Hands fisted, he waited. Her opinion meant more than he’drealized…or cared to admit.
“We all do things we wish desperately wecould undo. Those regrets become a lodestone around our neck. Towaste time, trying to change that, is like chasing the moon.”
Her voice was quiet, reflective. Was she wasspeaking from experience?
She turned her gaze on him, her face playinga million emotions in the wavering candlelight. Hurt? Guilt?Remorse? What?
Nicholas bit out, “But you didn’t see myfather’s tortured face. And now, I’m not to know if he lived ordied. That last moment with my father…I threw away in anger.”
“It is not a perfect world, Nicholas. It’swhen you feel regret all the time and can’t do anything about it”She looked down at her hands then looked at him again. “From whatyou’ve said, it’s obvious your father loves you. He probably grewdistant because he didn’t want to risk losing you like he lost yourmother.”
He rose and moved to the window overlookingthe ocean. The sun set over the mountain behind them and splashedscorching oranges, pinks and reds, like a burnt poppy, across thesea.
“People react differently when they mourn.”He heard the scrape of her chair as she pushed it back, felt hercome up next to him. “I’m sure your father is alive, Nicholas. Havefaith in that.”
There was a long pause as the late moonclimbed out of the sea in the perpetual mystery of the tropics.Along the house, a coconut palm dipped and the night grew heavy,bearing down on the world.
With his fingertips, he gently lifted herchin and gazed down into her turquoise eyes. Alexandra, with herhair braided and secured with twine and her thin shift dirty fromthe day’s work. She did not break like a porcelain doll. She was sounlike Lady Susannah.
He considered her seriously. Thiswoman-child had a self-possession which went far beyond anything hehad ever encountered before. In many ways, it was disturbing andimpossible to think of her in a sisterly manner. “You are a verylovely girl, Miss Elwins. Don’t let anything or anyone change you,including me.”
The way the light caught her eyes, heimagined he could see into her, see her clarity, an openness thatdrew men. No. Couldn’t get close. Wouldn’t be fair to her. Whenrescued, he’d go back to England and resume his life.
Nicolas lowered his hand, regretted theconfusion reflected in her face. Turning, he strode outside beforehe began something he couldn’t stop. He plopped into his hammock,the blackness of night creating a strange uncertainty, the skyseeming to go round, and round like a circle with no beginning andno end.
ChapterSeven
Nicholas saluted her with a tankard of rum.“Would you like a flagon?”
Alexandra grimaced. “No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He took a long draught,plunking shaving materials, and then a water basin, splashing thecontents over the table. With his tankard of rum, he was morecautious. Not one drop did he allow to escape. With ceremony, heangled a mirror up against a pot to examine his face.
“The ration of rum should leave many a scar.Oh, to be witness to a senseless casualty.” Alexandra dragged achair to the far side of the room and stood on top. She rearrangedthe overhead shelves, finding herself peeking, and then leaning tosee what sort of barbarous face had been concealed by his thickblack beard. No doubt it would reveal a weak chin.
“You lean any further, you will fall offthat chair.”
She had been leaning so far to the left, shecould not recover her balance quickly enough to pretend she hadn’tbeen doing exactly that. She caught the shelf with her hands beforeshe plummeted to the floor. Reflected in the mirror, she jerked hergaze from his, her face flushing.
