He gave the closed door a smug smile of his own. Let Diana and his sister plan a fine wedding and a grand ball that people would talk over for generations to come. Let Diana plan their lives after that all she wanted. Because while Diana took her revenge planning the wedding, James would have his planning the wedding night.
*** *** ***
It was over. The last guest had faded into the night, and the wilted garlands had fallen. O’Malley found Isabeau curled up under the violinist’s chair, and Honoria carried her off to bed. Diana’s father had met up with cronies he’d known from his long career, and he’d returned home with one elderly gentleman of Tradd Street, to talk over old times.
Honoria had had her grand wedding. James — peculiarly, Diana thought — had not fussed. He’d looked extraordinarily handsome in a black suit with a cutaway frock coat and tails, a stark white cravat, and his black hair trimmed and combed.
James had not looked himself, but when Diana had entered the church and seen his tall, body in the tight suit, she’d felt a bit weak in the knees.
Honoria made a lovely bridesmaid in cream-colored silk. Diana had convinced her to wear the lighter color — Honoria had at first chosen something dark and unobtrusive. Isabeau, likewise dressed in finery, had strewn flowers everywhere, enjoying herself hugely. Mr. O’Malley had looked after Isabeau, just as he had on the Argonaut.
At the altar, James had looked as calm and cool as when giving routine orders on the deck of his ship, but Diana had trembled all over. Any happy memories of her first wedding had been quashed by her bad marriage with Edward, and the sight of her father waiting to walk her down the aisle momentarily panicked her.
But it was James waiting for her at the altar, not Edward Worthing. James who was a true hero, not Edward who’d been a sham.
James waited for her with his warm green eyes and sinful smile, looking rather like he was planning something.
Then Diana placed her fingers on his strong, callused hand, and her panic vanished. She regretted her silliness over insisting on such an intricate wedding, because now she’d have to wait through a long banquet and ball before she and James could be alone together. When James slid the cool gold ring that had belonged to his mother onto Diana’s finger then leaned down to brush her lips with his, she longed for him to lift her over his shoulder and run away with her back to the Argonaut.
Diana lived through the dinner and the innumerable toasts, and kept a smile pasted on her face while Charleston’s finest citizens congratulated them. James sat through it all with a relaxed manner and a neutral expression, while below the tablecloth, his foot tangled hers in intimate and suggestive ways.
Diana was positively screaming with frustration by the time James led her upstairs to his bedchamber, the two at last alone.
The Ardmore staff had prepared a meal for them and left it under silver trays, in case they should be famished in the few hours between the banquet and the lavish breakfast that would begin at nine.
James insisted that they partake, lest they hurt the cook’s feelings. The cook had been working for the Ardmores since James was a baby, and she’d never forgive him if they didn’t send back clean plates.
Diana forced down the crab bisque, soft rolls that James called biscuits, slabs of ham, and boiled hominy. James ate contentedly, as though he’d looked forward to this meal all day. Diana dragged her spoon through her soup and watched him. James seemed much too capitulating.
“Tell me, Diana,” he said, fishing up a bit of ham and biscuit. “What do you want to ask me?”
Diana’s blinked. One wisp of his dark hair had escaped the careful combing and drifted across his cheek. His loosened cravat revealed a triangle of swarthy throat that Diana kept wanting to lick.
She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been watching me like you were making a bet with yourself about something. Like you’ve been wanting to ask me something for quite some time. Except we’ve been too busy to be alone together, what with traveling from England, fighting pirates, and planning the wedding, and all.”
He glanced up, his expression composed, his eyes cool. Diana stirred her soup again and set down the spoon.
“Very well,” she said. “Since you mention it. I’d like to know — what exactly is Lady Stoke to you?”
He started the slightest bit then his gaze dropped as though he found his biscuits interesting. “I really don’t want to talk about Finley and his wife on my wedding night.”
“I believe you were the one who wanted me to ask.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Diana lifted her spoon again. “My dear James, if you do not want your cook’s fine soup all over your new suit, you will answer the question.”
“Threatening me?” he asked mildly. “And I’ve just become your lord and master. You are supposed to submit and obey your husband.”
Diana’s laugh rang across the room. She swore she saw James’s mouth twitch before he became absorbed in buttering another biscuit.
“Were you and she lovers?” Diana asked.
There, she’d said it. Diana had wondered about it since she’d met Lady Stoke, though she’d realized that Alexandra was madly in love with her husband and anything between her and James would have been in the past. While Alexandra had been forthcoming about James and Lord Stoke, and their long-ago fight over the woman Sara, she’d been cryptic about anything between herself and James.
But James had gone to Alexandra when he’d needed help, not the mighty Lord Stoke. He’d trusted Alexandra, had known he could trust her. Diana hadn’t had the courage to ask Lady Stoke about it, but now she wanted to erase this one last possible barrier between herself and James.
“No,” James said. “Never even once.”
He stopped pretending to eat and watched Diana over the domed silver plate between them, the one that contained mounded slabs of ham.
Diana relaxed the slightest bit. But that still did not explain what he’d said to Alexandra when he fitted the ropes about her wrists. “When we were pretending to have overpowered the family to make our escape, you said to her, Just like old times, isn’t it? What the devil did you mean by that?”
James fingered the stem of his wine glass. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” James took a sip of wine and returned the goblet carefully to the table. The candlelight threw a ruby-red shadow onto the tablecloth. “Once upon a time, I abducted her.”
Diana’s heart beat swiftly, but she kept her voice calm. “Well, that is your usual style.”
“I abducted her, stripped her naked, put her in chains, and used her to exact revenge on Grayson Finley.”
James picked up his glass again and took another calm sip of wine, as though he did such deeds every day.
Diana swallowed, only her throat was too dry, and it turned to a cough. “Why?”
“At the time, I blamed Finley for Paul’s death, whether or not Finley’s finger actually pulled the trigger. I would have done anything to get back at him for that, including stealing the woman he loved. If Alexandra had not been who she was, I would have ruined her and broken Finley’s heart. I would have wrecked both their lives and pulled them down into my misery.” James reached across the table and touched the thick gold band around Diana’s finger. “There’s a world of hurting inside the Ardmores. You only have to look at us to see it. I’ve decided it’s time to change that.”
Diana studied his hand, scarred with years of fighting and surviving. James had saved people’s lives and taken other lives. He’d known quiet happiness in this house, and he’d known heartache of such magnitude she could barely comprehend it.
She touched his fingers. “I am glad you chose me to help you change it.”
“I damn well didn’t choose you. You sprang into my life like a comet and destroyed every preconception I ever had. It’s like holding a wildcat by the tail. I don’t dare let go.”
&nb
sp; Diana raised her brows. “Hardly flattering, James.”
“But true. I knew you were a wild one the minute I found you tearing up my cabin after I abducted you. Despite your title and your papa being so famous, I knew you weren’t anything like a proper young lady. But that’s fine. I don’t like proper young ladies.”
A drop of wine lingered on his lips. Diana wanted to lean over the table, platter of ham and all, and lick it off.
She made herself sit still. “Back to Lady Stoke, since you have so neatly turned the discussion. Why did you let her go? Did she tell you to go to the devil?”
“No, she was prepared to martyr herself to save Finley’s neck. She was besotted with her pirate next door, and she’d have done anything to keep him safe, including marrying me.”
Diana gasped and gripped the table. The table rocked and the soup swayed dangerously. “You asked her to marry you?”
He only looked at her, still infuriatingly calm. “I thought it the surest way to hurt Finley. I would let him live, and let him suffer.”
“And she said yes?”
“She did. But I don’t think I’d have enjoyed it much. Alexandra would have played the sacrificial lamb to the hilt. I get tired of that real fast, as you know.”
Diana had caught up her napkin, and now she clenched it hard. “I assume Alexandra came to her senses and turned you down?”
“No. I came to mine.” James watched her without heat, but a wary light burned in his eyes. “They were so sickening about each other that I couldn’t stand it any more.”
“Sickening?” She twisted the napkin.
“Ready to die for each other. It got a bit cloying at the end. I decided to stop playing the villain, and let true love take its course. Very romantic of me, I thought.”
He had the gall to take another drink of wine, as though he’d been the hero of the piece.
“Romantic?” Diana shouted. “You are the most unromantic man I have ever had the misfortune to meet!”
“Lower your voice, Diana. People are trying to sleep.”
“How romantic is it to simply take what you want? You decide to let Alexandra and Lord Stoke be together, because you couldn’t intimidate her to your side. You wanted to question me about my father and Haven, so you simply absconded with me. You brought me here because it was more convenient for you than dodging the Royal Navy to marry me.”
“You must admit,” James said, in his cool way, “that my house is much more pleasant than a village tavern or the drenched caves on Haven. A proper bed after a proper meal. I thought you’d like that.”
Diana sprang to her feet and snatched up a buttered biscuit. “Do not tell me I should be grateful!”
He came alert. “Don’t you dare throw that biscuit at me, Diana.”
“Tell me this, then, if you want to save your wretched suit. How many other women have you abducted then asked to marry?”
“Besides you? None.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course I’m certain. I didn’t really want to marry any woman until one threw soup at me in a wayside inn.”
Diana refused to let him distract her. “You and Alexandra seem highly fond of one another.”
“I admire her. And I respect her. It isn’t every woman who stands up to me and tells me where I’ve gone wrong, especially when I’ve just locked her in chains. Alexandra was scared to death of me, but that didn’t stop her from telling me exactly what she thought.”
“You have not shown much respect for me.”
“You are still alive,” James said. “I think that means I highly respect you.”
“You arrogant, infuriating, bloody blackguard! I cannot believe I let myself fall in love with you! I could be living peacefully with my father on Haven, but instead I let you drag me halfway across the world and help you hunt pirates. I’ve watched men I’m supposed to respect beat you until it nearly killed you, and then I thought you dead for days and weeks. What kind of a life will I have with you? Madness, that’s what I’ll have. And all because I was stupid enough to fall in love with you.”
“But I’m damn glad you did.”
Diana stopped. For some reason the gentleness of the reply, the warm light in his eyes, made her world change to one of brilliance.
She let fly the biscuit, then the other half of it, then the half-eaten bowl of soup.
James rose even as the missiles hit him. The bisque landed with a liquid splat all over his black cashmere frock coat and fine silk waistcoat.
“Diana.” His voice was very, very soft, at its most dangerous. “I can’t let you get away with that.”
She took a nervous step backward. “Your sister would be upset if anything happened to this dress.”
“Then you’d better take it off.”
Diana had seen that look in his eyes before, right before he planned to mince up a few pirates. “I think I will just keep it on.”
James took a step toward her. “I’ll do it for you.”
“No, no.” Her hands flew to the hooks, unfastening them. “You’ll rip it to shreds.”
“That was the idea.”
She undid the hooks quickly, knowing that if she lingered, James would grow impatient and tear it off her anyway. Diana slid the warm silk down her body and folded it carefully over a chair. By the time Diana turned around again, James had armed himself. She shrieked, but it was too late.
Buttered hominy made a good weapon. He laughed as it splattered across her shoulders, then blinked and cursed when she returned fire with a ladle full of bisque. The ham made a satisfying noise when it hit him too.
The battle did not last long. Within seconds, James seized her wrists and shoved Diana to the bed. She found herself flat on her back on a soft featherbed, James’s weight on top of her.
He took her mouth in brutal kisses, pinning her wrists above her head.
“I love you, Diana. I never thought I could love this much. It hurts me how much I love you. No one in my life has ever made me this . . .”
His hands burned, and his lips bruised her. Diana thrust her knee between his, lacing her foot around his muscled calf. “Yes?” she asked, pretending innocence.
“This crazed. And happy. All at the same time. Demon woman.” His green eyes sparkled. “You have grits in your hair.”
Diana laughed. She stroked her tongue across his cheek, where the crab bisque lingered. “You taste good.”
“You taste better.” He demonstrated how much he liked her taste. “Damn, but I love you.” James kissed her again, this time gently. “You brought me home.”
Diana touched his hair. “We’re getting maudlin, Captain Ardmore. I think we should get on with making love.”
“I must agree with you, Mrs. Ardmore.”
“I think we should make love until we’re worn out. But it will be morning soon. They’ll expect us for breakfast.”
James’s smile warmed the night. “Then we’d better get a move on.”
He seized the placket of her chemise and ripped it from neck to waist. James leaned down and licked her breasts, his hot touch blazing to life the fires he’d already stirred.
Diana laughed, loving him, put her arms around him, and drew him down to her.
Epilogue
Spring, 1813
James walked into the Charleston house after a week away consulting with the American navy on fighting the English in this new war, to find the ground floor hushed and empty. The staircase twisted silently upward, no Isabeau sliding down the banister as she’d learned to do.
“Where the devil is everyone?” James’s voice rang up through the staircase hall.
The butler Daniel hastened downstairs, his usual dignity erased by the largest smile James had ever seen him wear.
“Mr. James. You’ll want to come up. They thought you wouldn’t get home for a while, but I guess the little lad didn’t want to wait.”
James froze, unable to move. One heartbeat went by, two . . . and then James was chargi
ng up the stairs and around the landing, pounding down the short hall to the closed door to Diana’s bedchamber.
He found out where everyone had gone as soon as he opened the door. Diana lay in her bed, her red braid snaking across her shoulders, her face tired but holding triumph. Honoria stood a few feet from the bed, his haughty sister smiling radiantly at a bundle in her arms.
Isabeau stood on tiptoe next to Honoria, one finger on the cloth draping the bundle. The rest of the Ardmore staff, including the cook, crowded around.
When James came bursting in, they all looked up. Did they look worried? No, they smiled and laughed, as much at James as what Honoria held.
James made for the bed first, taking Diana’s hand and leaning to kiss her warm lips. She looked happy, relieved, but the tightening of her hand told him of the pain and worry she’d gone through in the night.
He took a long breath, straightened up, and approached Honoria. The others stepped back, except Isabeau, who kept staring in wonder at the tiny child in Honoria’s arms.
Honoria looked up at him. “Congratulations, James. My nephew is the most beautiful creature in the world.”
James looked down into the little face, pinched and wrinkled, and yet so relaxed in sleep. A tiny bit of black down clung to his head, and the fist he held clenched on his chest was impossibly tiny.
Honoria gave James another fond look — his sister, finally softened — and handed James the bundle.
James took the little life in his arms, his heart in his throat. The baby stirred, opened one eye, and gave his father a baleful look.
“Little lad,” James whispered. “I’m so glad to see you.”
He was so tiny, so perfect. The protectiveness James naturally possessed, which he’d used on his sister, his brother, Diana, Isabeau, and his crew . . . now focused on this small being in his arms. James drew him against his chest.
He’d grow into a sturdy boy, then a youth, and he’d be running all over the Argonaut as James and his brother Paul had done. With one exception — James would never, ever let anything happen to this boy.
Young Ardmore opened his other eye, stared up at James, opened his mouth, and yelled.