Free Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) by Barbara Devlin

he was in love, and wished to marry.  So I gave him my heart, I had such high hopes.”  Caroline choked on a sob.  Her hand shook as she lifted her balloon of brandy and sipped.
    As she set the glass down, Trevor reached for her hand, clasped her fingers, and squeezed a reassurance.  She did not look at him, but he spied tears pooling, glittering in her blue eyes.
    “And?”
    Still, she stared unseeing.  “As I awaited a proposal, he announced his engagement to another.”
    “I do not understand.”
    “Do you not?  He used me to gain the attention and acquiescence of another.”  Caroline impaled him with a steely gaze simmering with anguish.  “He never wanted me.”
    “Good God,” Trevor exclaimed in disbelief.  “What of your brother?  Surely he called the blackguard out?”
    “He was at sea.”
    “He bloody well should have demanded satisfaction when he returned.”
    “He wanted to, but I would not let him.”
    “Why the devil not?”
    “Because it would have only prolonged my shame.”
    “So your family did nothing?  The bastard should have been forced to wed you.”
    “I would not have him marry what he did not love.  And my family settled with his.  My brother’s broken knuckles and my former suitor’s black eye attested to it.  Polite explanations were made to cover my affront.  A rumor circulated to the gossipmongers that I had conspired with my friend to bring his chosen lady to the altar, and suddenly I was a veritable saint.”
    “And that made it all right?”
    “No.”
    “Because you were in love?”
    “Actually, I’m no longer certain it was love.”
    “Then what was it?”
    “I suppose it was the possibility that, at last, someone could want me.”
    “Forgive my confusion, but you think yourself unattractive?”  Positive the charming paramour was fishing for compliments, he vented a snort of skepticism.  “My dear, you are beautiful.”
    “I know what I am, I know how I look, and I make no apologies.”  Caroline shot out of her chair, and it fell backward to the floor with a thud.  “My face is not fair, I stand too tall--I am neither petite nor graceful, and I have opinions, which I can, will, and do share.  I will not lie to myself, or anyone else, and pretend to be something I am not.  Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to go to bed.”
    Stunned by the revelation, by the force of her estimable declaration, Trevor remained in his seat, unable to move, as she marched to the bunk they shared and eased to her side.  If it were anyone else, he would have questioned the sincerity behind the bold affirmation.  But the ladybird’s trembling shoulders and soft sobs she tried, but failed, to stifle told him her emotional distress was genuine.  It appeared Mistress Caroline carried wounds as deep as his own, a fact that unnerved him for reasons he understood too well.  And in that instant, she earned from him something no woman had ever claimed.
    Respect.
    #
    Oh, why had she told him so much of her past?
    It was almost evening, and Caroline had not left the comfort and refuge of the bunk.  So much had transpired, and she was reeling.  After her embarrassing confession the previous night, she’d hid in the cabin all day, wanting nothing more than to avoid Trevor’s sympathetic stare.
    She did not want his pity.
    Something else nagged her conscience.  She had not told him everything; she had held something back.  If she was going to give her captain her most intimate gift, she wanted him to know the whole, complicated truth of her circumstances.  She had to, really, because she cared for him.  Of late she compared what she’d felt for Lord Darwith, her errant suitor, with what she now felt for Trevor.  In all honesty, there simply was no comparison, so her choice was made.  And, if he would have her, if only on a temporary basis, she would surrender.
    “Still in bed, my lady?”
    Holding a tray of covered dishes, the green-eyed dragon kicked the