Xavier stared into Markham’s smoldering eyes. He could not help feeling excitement—amd dismay.
“There is little danger,” Markham said. “The assignment will be brief. Perhaps a year at most. England is a civilized place, not like Barbary. Your wife will be safe here with your father.”
“No,” Xavier said, not forcefully, his heart pounding against his ribs. God, how he would like to help put the damned British in their places, the British who were doing so much to damage American shipping—and how he would love to help destroy Napoleon.
“You would deny the president? We are virtually at war with Britain already, my boy. And real war is coming—soon. Surely you can see that?”
William had remained silent, and now he protested, “Xavier! You have done your duty a dozen times over.”
“I cannot refuse,” Xavier finally said heavily. “But do not say anything to Alexandra. I will tell her myself, in my own way, in my own good time.”
Three days later, Alex was gently awoken by a hand upon her shoulder. She was curled up in the massive four-poster bed in her hotel suite. It was the middle of the day, but she had fallen asleep after eating a huge lunch. Pregnancy had suddenly made her ravenous—now that she was no longer suffering from her bouts with morning sickness.
She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at Xavier. In another month or so, she would tell him about the baby.
He did not sit down beside her. His eyes were dark, shadowed, as if he had not slept well, and his expression was oddly grim.
Alex sat up abruptly, her heart lurching. “Something is wrong.”
“Yes.”
“What is it?” she cried, trying to remain calm. Hadn’t she already been through the worst? Surely no other trial, no other tribulation, could come her way? Were they not now destined for success, good fortune, and happiness?
And Alex did not like his tone or his look—which had grown both combative and defensive, at once. She slipped to her feet, holding her blue silk wrapper together. “What is it?”
“I have accepted another secret commission from the president.”
It took Alex a moment to comprehend his words. “To do what?” she cried.
“To masquerade as a blockade runner. I must get to England—where I shall remain for a short time—where I shall do what must be done to further the interest of the United States in these dangerous times.” He regarded her unflinchingly.
“You mean,” she said, her pulse rioting, “you are going there to spy!”
“Yes.”
“And I am coming with you?” she asked, already certain what his answer would be.
“No.” He was firm. “You shall remain here, with my father, until my assignment is done. By the time I return, I shall undoubtedly be free to remarry, and we shall be wed.”
“No way! You sexist bastard!” Alex shouted, throwing a velvet pillow at him. It hit him in the face. She turned and hurled a half dozen other pillows at him, of different sizes and shapes, trying not to cry. “How can you leave me after all we have been through?” It crossed her mind that she should tell him about the baby now, but as he was not convinced she was a “time-traveler,” she thought it would do more damage than good.
“I don’t know,” he cried, agonized. “In truth, I do not want to. I love you. But how can I refuse the president? Alexandra, there is going to be a war between our country and Britain—unless the current climate changes or is changed.”
The War of 1812, Alex thought silently. She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “You are too damned heroic. Don’t go.”
He moved to her and embraced her tightly. “I love you more than I love anything or anyone,” he whispered. “But I would not be a man if I did not go.”
Alex clung. “God, this is one of the reasons I love you so.”
***
The moment theAlexandraslipped out of Boston Harbor, Xavier knew he had done the wrong thing.
He missed Alexandra so intensely that it hurt, and even as his newly christened ship glided out of the night-darkened harbor, to avoid the British ships patrolling the coast, he continued to think about her. God, he was thirty-one and far too old for games of war and espionage. He should be at Blackwell House this very moment, with her, sharing port in front of the hearth, snuggled up together. Why had he accepted this damnable assignment?
“I am a fool,” he told the sliver of visible moon. But it was too late for regrets.
Xavier remained at the helm until theAlexandrawas safely out of the harbor and the night watch had assured him that no other ships were in sight. Then he gladly relinquished command to his first mate and clambered belowdecks. His cabin was small and dark from the night, as it was overcast, making it the perfect evening to weigh anchor. Yet he had left the four portholes open and a sweet, cool breeze filled the room. Xavier crossed the small cabin and lit a candle.
