Free Captain's Bride by Kat Martin

She’d always known
her father was a man of lusty appetites—at least he had been until
Hannah died. After that he’d gone to Charleston, she was sure, to
call on the ladies of the evening. He had never again visited the
slave quarters, as he had when Hannah lived there.
    Until tonight, Glory had always been certain she’d
inherited her mother’s more delicate sensibilities regarding a
woman’s duties in the marriage bed. To her mother, intimacy was an
obligation. After Glory was born, Louise had been thankful when
Julian stopped visiting her room altogether. Her mother had
explained to Glory that what happened between a man and a woman was
for procreation, to bring new life into the world. Passion was
something only a man enjoyed. Glory had always believed her
mother—until tonight. Surely she hadn’t inherited her father’s
passions instead of her mother’s! But now Glory wasn’t so
certain.
    Julian spotted the change in attitude the moment
they entered the dining room early the following morning. Last
night both had pleaded fatigue and gone straight to their chambers.
This morning Glory watched Nicholas covertly from beneath her thick
dark lashes, an achingly wistful look on her face.
    And Nicholas smiled. Not a thin, narrow, mirthless
smile, but a real, genuine, full-fledged smile. At least when he
looked at Glory.
    Julian wondered what could have happened between them
on the road last night, and part of him questioned his judgment in
throwing them together so much. The other part said he’d had to
give his daughter the chance at love he’d known only briefly.
    Now Nicholas was leaving. And if the look on Glory’s
face was any indication, she was damned sorry to see him go.
Nicholas didn’t look any too pleased himself.
    “Good-bye, Captain Blackwell,” Glory was saying.
They’d walked outside on the piazza to stand in the warm spring
sun.
    Nicholas took her slim fingers in his hand and
brought them to his lips. His eyes, usually a dark gray, looked
lighter somehow. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Summerfield. More than
you’ll ever know.”
    “Will you be returning to Charleston soon?” she
asked, almost willing him to say yes, it seemed to Julian.
    “I’m afraid not.” He didn’t add anything further, and
Julian wondered why he sounded so final while his expression seemed
to belie his words.
    Glory straightened. “Then I wish you well, Captain.”
She turned to go, her head held high, fair hair gleaming in the
early morning light.
    “And you, Glory. Don’t settle for less than what you
want.” He glanced pointedly at Julian. Then he climbed aboard the
calèche, his rented saddle horse trailing behind. The captain had
found the animal lame that morning, so Mose was driving him into
Charleston.
    “Thank you again, Julian,” Nicholas called out. “For
everything.”
    As the carriage rolled into the distance, Julian
moved to stand beside his daughter. She looked down the lane until
the calèche turned the bend in the road and moved out of sight.
    “You really liked him, didn’t you?” Julian said
softly, meeting his daughter’s troubled gaze.
    “Too much” was all she said.
    Glory spent the next few weeks determinedly trying
to forget Nicholas Blackwell. It was no easy task. She attended
several soirees and finally Miriam’s costume ball with Eric Dixon.
But now the men who fawned over her seemed immature or dandyish.
When she kissed Eric and felt nothing more than a pleasant glow,
she thought of Nicholas’s more passionate embrace. Whenever she saw
Lavinia Bond, she fought the torturous image of Nicholas lying with
the luscious red-haired woman, his hands caressing her, his warm
lips brushing her eager flesh. Worst of all, she felt jealous that
it was Lavinia and not she who had been the object of his
ardor.
    Not until the first of May did Glory’s life return to
some semblance of order. She’d resigned herself to marrying Eric
Dixon as her mother had strongly begun to