Free Captain Of Her Heart by Barbara Devlin Page A

learned how to cook and jar preserves.  And then she baked four pans of Shrewsbury cakes, which the charwoman proclaimed the finest she had ever tasted.  With a small portion of bundled cakes, Molly departed for home.  Only then had Alex filled the tub, which persisted as her favorite task, as it signaled the end of her work, and she would soon after sink into a hot bath.
    Later, she sat on the sofa and braided her hair, which she had just finished when Jason strolled into the cottage.  “Good evening, Captain of my heart.”
    “Lady Alex, you are a sight for sore eyes.”  He tossed his greatcoat over the chair and then stopped to kiss the top of her head.  “How was your day?”
    “Productive.”  The ease with which they usually conversed seemed strained to her, and she searched for a saucy response to rouse his humor.  Instead, cold emptiness pervaded her senses, so she stood and sidestepped the object of her affection.  “Are you hungry?”
    “Famished.”  He frowned.  “Are you all right?”
    “Everything is fine.”  As had become their routine, while she served dinner, Jason steered for the washstand, and they met at the table.  “I made a lovely ragout of beef, with a side of macaroni and cheese, and for dessert I baked Shrewsbury cakes.”
    “My compliments to the chef.”  As he shoveled an impressive mouthful, he hummed his appreciation.  “May I admit something, without fear of reprisal?”
    “Of course.”  Alex bolstered her defenses, as she prepared for rejection.  Had he, at last, mustered sufficient courage to admit the truth?  Biting her tongue, she prayed for strength and vowed not to embarrass herself.  “What did you wish to impart?”
    “When you showed up at my doorstep, and I issued my challenge, never had I thought you capable of the task.”  Grasping her hand, Jason pressed his lips to her knuckles, and she shivered.  “You would think I should have learned not to underestimate you, by now, love.”
    “Praise, indeed.”  Prior to their disagreement, such words would have brought her inexpressible elation, but Alex celebrated no victory.
    The remainder of their meal passed in uncomfortable silence.  Once her captain had cleaned his plate and wolfed down three cakes, he stretched his arms over his head.  As she collected the dishes, she leaned to retrieve his napkin, and Jason caught her about the waist.
    He sniffed the air.  “What is that smell?”
    “I beg your pardon?”  Puzzled, she dropped the cloth.  “Can you describe it?”
    “What a sweet aroma.”  In the wake of a deep inhale, he wrenched her close and thrust his nose into the curve of her neck, and she gasped.  “Hmm.  It is you.”
    “Oh, that.”  She swallowed hard, as he nuzzled her, and despite her reservations, a sparkle of hope glimmered.  “Molly gifted me a bottle of her vanilla water.  It is quite different from my usual scent.”
    “It suits you.”  When he licked her throat, her knees buckled, and he drew her into his lap.  “And you taste good, too.”
    “Jason, I do not think we should—” In a flash, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his, and her mind blanked.  Without thought or care for the consequences, Alex twined her fingers in his hair and joined the fray, as she ached to kiss her captain.
    The world as she knew it tilted on end, and the little cottage yielded to a fantastical illusion, featuring a flirty chorus of mystical fairies and arrow-throwing chubby cherubs.  Molten heat poured through her veins, and desire simmered beneath her flesh.  As though he had read her thoughts, her captain kneaded her breast, and she moaned in pleasure.
    Was it possible that her conclusions were hastily drawn?  Had she leapt to unsupported deductions woven from whole cloth?  Could it be possible Jason intended to propose, else why would he seduce her?
    In that instant, armed with passion, Alex charged the fore.  When Jason shifted to loosen her bodice,