Defiant Captive Read online

  "Yes, I have, haven't I?" Hawke said grimly, turning to the woman he held loosely in his arms. "Whether she likes it or not!" Fierce gray eyes plumbed bottomless aquamarine. "For I mean to have you, Alexandra — will you, nill you. I give you fair warning here and now. What happened with your father is over and done with. It has nothing to do with us."

  There were two spots of feverish color on Alexandra's cheeks as she glared up at the arrogant stranger before her. "Is that your notion of a marriage proposal?" she asked icily.

  "No, by God, it is not!" the Duke of Hawkesworth thundered. "It's a bloody order! As soon as Liverpool hands me the bill of divorcement, you will become my wife — even if I have to carry you drugged to Scotland to accomplish it!"

  Alexandra's fragile shoulders were unbearably stiff. "Over my dead body!" she snapped.

  Hawke's quicksilver eyes flashed dangerously, as if he were considering that possibility as well. "You'll marry me, my girl, or I'll tell everyone who'll listen that the Honorable Alexandra Maitland is the most wretched, calculating sort of fortune-hunter! I'll tell anyone who'll listen that this woman insinuated herself into her cousin's household with the express intention of seducing her cousin's husband. That in short, she is a determined, heartless little baggage" — the duke's voice dropped to a hoarse growl — "and that I adore every conniving, stubborn bone in her treacherous body and couldn't live another day without her!"

  Then Hawke was on his knees before her, his eyes hungrily searching her face. "Marry me, Alexandra," he entreated, ignoring the ring of fascinated spectators. "Promise me all your nights. You'll never regret it, my heart, I swear this to you."

  The object of this disjointed diatribe blinked suddenly. Then a glow of such radiance swept across her face that more than one of the male onlookers felt a lump tighten his throat.

  Like a seasoned campaigner Hawke pressed home his advantage. "We'll have six children, and each one will be more stubborn than the last. I'll open a charitable school in the Whitechapel slums." His long fingers bit into the fine bones of her hand. "I'll live one year out of five in India. I'll release all the swans at Hawkeswish."

  Alexandra's smile, which had been growing wider, suddenly halted in a look of dismay. "Oh, no, Hawke! Never that! The swans belong on the high stream, just as they have been for eight generations. God willing, they may grace your lands for another eight." Unconsciously, her hand slipped to the hollow of her abdomen in a gesture that made Hawke's eyes smoke.

  "Then you must come to keep an eye on me," he growled. "See that I don't shirk my duties."

  "Very well, my love," his radiant wife-to-be answered, running a gentle finger across the bruised skin beneath his bloody bandage. "I accept your offer, sahib. Indeed, I quake at the thought of denying you anything."

  "Little liar," Hawke said lovingly, rising from bended knee to sweep her into a fierce embrace. Then he stiffened, and his eyes were hard upon her face. "What of the man in India?" he demanded. "You swore I would never be his equal."

  "My father," Alexandra said softly. "And I find you are in every way his match. But no matter," she added in a voice of calm certainty, "like Isobel, he shall haunt us no more."

  With a groan Hawke swept her against his hard frame and covered her face with hungry kisses, oblivious to the circle of interested onlookers.

  A roar of approval went up from the men around them, echoing to the rafters of the cavernous room, but the two lovers did not appear to notice.

  For they were far away from the tumbledown warehouse by the bank of the Thames, far from the tangled webs of revenge and betrayal, already halfway to heaven.

  Epilogue

  A summer breeze swept across the grassy slope, tossing the long blades like waves upon a vast sea of green. Right up the crest of the hill the wind hurried, then fled down the other side, scattering the broad leaves of a towering linden whose magnificent branches trailed nearly to the ground. From the dappled shade beneath the green canopy came the sounds of gentle laughter.

  "But she is always ravenous! I cannot think how you keep her satisfied."

  The Duke and Duchess of Hawkesworth were lying beneath the luxurious foliage while their three-month-old daughter rested from her luncheon beside them. Hawke's criticism was belied by the besotted look of fatherly pride on his handsome face.

  "Come, admit it, Richard. Julietta is perfect, as well you know." Alexandra hesitated for an instant. "You do not regret that our firstborn is a girl, do you?"

  Hawke's eyes were dark and chiding. "Little fool," he whispered gruffly, "I am delighted with our firstborn. She is perfect in every way, from her glossy curls the color of sun-drenched honey to that stubborn little chin, which I rather fancy she inherited from me."

  "Oh, quite, you may take all the credit for her stubbornness!"

  "Wretch! She might just as well claim that heritage from you, for you have been fighting me with unflinching obstinacy from the first moment of our meeting!"

  A shadow crossed Alexandra's eyes, and Hawke read her thoughts at the same moment.

  His gentle finger brushed her lips. "I would have it no other way, my heart. I fear I should grow most lamentably bored were you different in any detail." The warm light flooding his smoky eyes convinced her of his sincerity. "Now," he continued, after clearing his throat, "it appears that the ton is to accept us, in spite of the furor over the divorce. Davies tells me that a carriage full of gifts has arrived from London, where they've been gathering dust since we so precipitously fled. Everyone is claiming a part in the affair, in fact. Canning and Liverpool led the way, while Morland has been offering violence to anyone rash enough to breathe a word of opposition. Poor fellow — he's more than half in love with you himself, I think."

  Alexandra touched Hawke's sleeve. "I grieve to think I gave him pain, for he was a friend when I needed one badly."

  "Nevertheless, Morland will have to find his own heart's desire — which I have no doubt he will soon do, for he's always had a knowing way with the ladies. So no more worrying over Morland, if you please. It reminds me of my own pigheadedness," Hawke said darkly, his eyes tense upon her face. "Soon I would wonder that you ever forgave me."

  "It was not easy," his wife said enigmatically, "but fortunately, I discovered that you have certain redeeming traits."

  "Indeed," Hawke said. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

  Alexandra's laugh tinkled across the shimmering summer air. "Very well, Richard. You see, I've found you out."

  A crease worked its way across Hawke's forehead.

  "Oh yes, I've discovered the Black Duke's secret at last." To Alexandra's very great delight, he looked worried. "Why, Richard! You are squirming! Have you been hiding a mistress or two somewhere about the countryside while I've been occupied with Julietta?" She managed to make herself sound affronted.

  "God help me if I have. There are quite enough females about my estate already." His fingers skimmed her lips, which were threatening to curve into a smile at any moment. "Now, out with it, sphinx! What is this terrible secret you've discovered?"

  "Why, I've discovered," Alexandra said softly, "that the Duke of Hawkesworth is a good man, caring and fine, but he would die before he let anyone see that."

  A muscle flashed at Hawke's jaw as he stared into Alexandra's luminous face. "Thank God I found you, sweet changeling. Otherwise, I might have haunted the high stream forever in search of one perfect white swan."

  "And here she is," Alexandra whispered, "with your swan mark upon her to prove it."

  "Are you, my love?" Hawke asked, rough uncertainty in his voice. From behind him he pulled one perfect dusky rose and gently traced her cheek with it. "Almost as soft as your skin. Take it, my love, and know that with it goes my heart."

  Alexandra's eyes were huge and radiant as she accepted his gift. "No more than I give myself."

  "No regrets for the past?" he persisted. "For the country you left behind? You might go back, you know, now that your father has been cleared of cu
lpability in the uprising. Say the word, and I will take you."

  "How like you to offer, Richard," his wife said, deeply moved. But Alexandra knew she would never go back to India. Her life was here in England now, beside her husband and child.

  Not that she would ever forget the country of her birth.

  On still nights when the moon was the color of saffron floating in an ebony sky, she would always see the faint line of snow upon the distant Himalaya.

  When a hot summer wind fanned the noonday heat, she would always imagine she caught the elusive hint of cardamom and ginger.

  But of regrets, she had none. "I am here until the next swan-hooking ceremony — and the next and the next, as long as you will have me, Richard."

  "Forever," Hawke vowed darkly, sealing his lips against her neck. Deeply, he drank from the shadowed well beneath her jaw, but it did not nearly quench the fire that exploded through his veins. Indeed, his desire threatened to rage out of control, after he had so carefully held himself in check these last months.

  With a muffled curse Hawke set her from him and leaned back stiffly, brushing a white linden petal from his navy coat. "I do not mean to be sidetracked, however. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Lady Jersey is wild to meet you, and Prinny has even rumbled something about showing you his plans for the new pavilion at Brighton. A signal honor, I assure you."

  Alexandra shook her head. "How strange it all seems! And yet only one year ago —"

  "No," Hawke said sternly. "That time is behind us. Telford is dead, and Isobel is ... nothing but a shell since his death. She will never harm us again. I suspect there was a great deal more to that relationship than I knew. No," he continued, seeing the question in Alexandra's eyes, "ask me nothing more. Suffice it to say she lives in a dream world now, but in tolerable comfort — which is much more than she deserves. And now," he said resolutely, with a dangerous look that warned her that the subject was closed, "you will find that Madame Gres has sent us an exquisite set of christening clothes for Julietta, along with the express order that you present yourself to her before you set foot in London society again. It would damage her reputation beyond repair if you came back looking like a country dowd, she vows." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "By the way, what did you say to Robbie? The boy's been floating on air the last several days."

  "I only told him the truth about why I married you."

  "Indeed? Don't stop now," Hawke growled.

  "Yes, I confessed 'twas him I fell in love with first. Unfortunately, the only way I could have him was if I married you." The shining blue-green fire of Alexandra's eyes belied her laughing words.

  "I shall have to punish you for that. Now, what else had I to tell you?" Hawke pretended to be lost in thought, while Alexandra waited impatiently for him to continue. "Oh yes, I've received news that Pence's brother Tom has been located at last. He was desperate with worry about his brother and was only too happy to accept employment here at Hawkeswish. He wishes to be a gamekeeper, it seems. Which reminds me — just as I came from the stables, Havers presented me with a sturdy miniature fishing rod of whittled oak. At the very same moment, however, Jeffers appeared carrying a painted horse of his own design. The two of them were positively scowling at each other, waiting to see whose gift would receive precedence. It was a dangerous moment, I can tell you."

  "Dear friends, one and all," Alexandra said quietly, her eyes glistening with sudden moisture.

  For a moment the two were silent, pondering the strange fate that had brought them together, the friends who had stood firm, and how close they had come to losing each other forever. Their fingers met and clasped tightly.

  "I am glad that Rajah will have company," Alexandra said after a little while. "It was very kind of Sir Stanford to make us a present of the little female mongoose he had been meaning to take back with him."

  "Raffles is a stubborn man, but I think history may well account him a genius. I only wish I could persuade him to delay his return to Java."

  "He is very like my father," Alexandra said, "with a strict code of honor."

  "His mongoose is certainly giving Rajah a run for his money, which is only what the little potentate deserves. In fact, I rather fancy him living under the cat's paw, for it is no more than I shall do."

  "Indeed, Your Grace?" Alexandra asked, a martial light in her eyes.

  "Most assuredly." Hawke's free hand slipped to the curve of her cheek. "But I mean to take a page from Shakespeare and tame my shrew. And although I have been most admirably denying in the last months, my abstinence is nearly at an end." His long fingers traced her graceful throat.

  Beside them the infant cooed contentedly and popped a fat thumb into her mouth.

  Alexandra's eyes widened. "But Richard, what if one of the staff should come upon us? I still flame with embarrassment when I think of Havers —"

  "Nonsense! Havers long ago willed himself to forget everything about that day. As for the rest of the staff, they've been warned under penalty of death to come nowhere near this corner of the estate."

  Alexandra's hand flew to her cheek. "Richard, you have not!"

  "I most certainly have," her husband said gruffly. "And they are blessing you for it, for I've become devilishly short-tempered of late. You can well imagine why." His eyes softened for a moment. "Unless you truly find you need more time ..." His strong fingers stilled upon the dark hollow beneath her collarbone.

  His heart leaped then, for he read the ardent answer in her eyes. But the crunch of brisk footsteps startled them.

  "There you are, my lady." It was a female voice, low and foreign and frankly scolding. "What are you about to lie here in the cool winds with no blanket?" The dark-skinned woman who appeared amid the linden branches lifted a fine shawl of paisley cashmere and unfurled it about Alexandra's feet.

  "I should have known you'd be above listening to any orders I might give," Hawke said to the intruder in irritation. "You may be certain that I will not allow the duchess to grow cold."

  "Humph," the old Indian woman said, dismissing this assurance. "I trust my little one will not, now that I've brought a blanket for her. And as to this talk of duchesses, I say nonsense! She has always been my little one, my Sadis. Nothing will change that."

  "What does it mean — Sadis?" Alexandra asked curiously, glad to distract the pair from their hostility. "You've called me that as long as I can remember."

  The old Indian woman frowned for a moment, puzzling over the proper words in English. "She is the goddess of wisdom and music, she who rides a swan." She gave Alexandra a mysterious, enigmatic smile before she turned briskly to the drowsy infant. "And now, minakshi, come back to the house with Ayah, and I will tell you a story of Krishna." As she spoke, the Indian woman deftly scooped up the contented infant and tucked her into the crook of her arm.

  "Thank you, Ayah," Alexandra said.

  "I do not require thanks, mistress," the old woman answered over her shoulder, for she was already climbing the slope to return to the great house. "And it is good that I do not. For what thanks is there for me in this barbarian country, with its disagreeable climate, with no heat, no spice, and no punkahs? By the Lord Shiva, I will remain six months and not a single day more. I tell you that, minakshi, and not even your liquid eyes will persuade me to stay an instant longer." Her voice was fading as she passed over the brow of the hill. "No bazaars to trade gossip in! No food worth eating! Bah! A barbarian country."

  Alexandra looked up at Hawke's irritated face and laughed guiltily. "Bless you for sending for her, my love, and please find it in your heart to forgive her. She is an old woman far from home."

  "Old retainers must be the same everywhere," Hawke said dryly. "My nurse was just the same. And your ayah is the only one you'd trust with our child, is she not?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Then I must learn to bear her presence." An odd light crossed his face, and his slate-gray eyes became measuring. "Only you must give me some incentive so that I don't backslide."
r />   "Incentive?"

  "Yes," the duke growled, "solace. Relief from this gnawing ache I bear for you." His fingers gripped her shoulders. "It is too late to be coy, changeling. You've swum into my net, and this time I shall not let you go." He caught her and rolled them over as one until he lay beneath her. His eyes burned across the white lace chemisette still open above the loose bodice of her pale pink muslin gown. "Ah, love, more beautiful than ever you've become! I never dreamed it possible." There was a trace of awe in his voice as his fingers grazed the proud peach crests where his child had rested.

  His touch was feather-light, but it sent a wild tremor through Alexandra, teaching her how much she had missed him in the months since their daughter's birth.

  "Hawke?" she said faintly, her voice uneven with a passion of her own.

  "I warn you, my heart's delight: When you say my name just so, I can deny you nothing."

  "Nothing at all?" Alexandra asked, a tiny smile playing about her lips.

  "Nothing — 'tis a lost man you see before you."

  Laughter tumbled from her lips then, and she moved to nip his lobe playfully and whisper something in his ear.

  Hawke groaned. "With the greatest of pleasure," he said unevenly. And then he saw to it there was no more talking between them.

  The sun was high and the bees were busy in the hyacinths as a small brown figure parted the grass a few minutes later. His tail twitched lazily as he halted before the sweeping linden tree. Satisfied with what he saw there, the little mongoose turned silently and jumped to a flat boulder warmed by the afternoon sun.

  He fluffed out his fur and settled back upon the rock, contentedly surveying the green valley and the great stone house beyond.

  It was a strange world he had come to. The trees were too tall and green, the ground too cool. He tucked his head for a moment and nursed the painful bruise on his leg where the last viper had lashed him. Still, it had been the evil creature's final act on earth.