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My darling Alex is dead. Please come to Briarcliff. I need you desperately.
Eden
The enormity of what they would both need was more than Raven could bear to contemplate in depth, but clearly Eden expected him to help bury her late husband. To refuse to attend Alex’s funeral was unthinkable. It was more than a hundred miles overland to Briarcliff, and while it was a pleasant journey when made by carriage with the nights spent in inns, the need now wa
s for all possible haste. When Raven questioned Peter, he discovered the groom had ridden a succession of rented horses at a wild gallop to reach London in under two days, but Raven was confident he could sail the Jamaican Wind into Lyme Bay below Briarcliff in well under that time. Calling for the mate, he explained what they had to do and why.
Randy MacDermott had seen Peter’s downcast expression when he had come on board, but he had not suspected the groom’s errand had been of such a tragic nature. “How did it happen?” he immediately wanted to know.
“Assemble the crew, and I’ll tell you all at the same time. I know there are several men on shore, but we’ve no time to send anyone out to find them. We’ll just have to leave word that we’ll return in a few days. We haven’t received everything I ordered from the London Armoury, so we’ll have to come back to load the balance anyway.”
Randy stared at Raven, his expression a mask of confused disbelief. “Alex is dead, and you’re concerned about the cargo?”
“No!” Raven denied hotly. “I don’t give a damn about the cargo, but I’ll not leave munitions Alex paid good money to buy sitting on the dock. Now hurry and assemble the crew as I asked.”
Randy knew Alex and Raven had been close, and he could not understand why Alex’s sudden death had not had the same devastating effect on Raven as it had on him. Raven was not an easy man to get to know, but Randy had always thought he knew him as well as any man did, until now. Now he was looking at an aloof stranger who had just given him an order he quickly obeyed.
Far from immune to the sorrow that flooded Randy’s eyes with tears, as he went up on deck Raven felt as though he were the one who had died. He mouthed the words he knew his crew would be deeply saddened to hear, but kept himself from reacting to their chilling effect. He dug his fingernails into his palms and forced his own grief down deep inside his soul as he watched the grown men who had served Alex before him cry like motherless babes.
Shocked and filled with dismay, the crew asked questions Raven answered as truthfully as possible, but he did not admit Alex had not been in as good health as they had all assumed. Heart trouble ran in the family, was all that he would reveal. When a melancholy silence settled over the crew, Raven nodded to Randy and the mate began the series of orders that would get them under way. Readily understanding the need to reach Briarcliff as soon as possible, the men dried their eyes on their shirtsleeves and ran to their places.
Peter had left the last horse he had ridden at the nearest livery stable, and never having sailed, he grabbed the rail and hung on with a frantic grasp as the sails were unfurled and the Jamaican Wind pulled away from the dock. On any other day, he would have been teased unmercifully by the crew, but now no one felt up to making jokes.
As swift as she was beautiful, in full sail the Jamaican Wind was a glorious sight. Raven set a course that kept them close to the coast as they passed through the English Channel, and with the entire crew working to speed their way, they were able to drop anchor in Lyme Bay the following afternoon. It had been three days since Alex’s death, and they all hoped they had not arrived too late to attend the dear man’s funeral.
Approaching the house from the sea, Raven recalled the first time he had visited Briarcliff. The elegant stone mansion had looked like a castle to a child of eight, and he had asked Alex if he were a king. Alex had laughed, tousled his curls, and told him it was a drafty old place he did not like half as much as his home on Jamaica, but Raven had still believed Briarcliff to be a palace fit for a king.
Peter Brady followed Raven up the worn stone path. The groom had insisted upon carrying the captain’s valise, and had volunteered to return to the Jamaican Wind to inform the crew of the funeral plans once they had learned them. “Lady Clairbourne wanted to wait for you. I hope that we’ve arrived in time.”
“We’ll hold a second service if we’ve missed the first,” Raven assured him.
Peter had never heard of anyone having two funerals, but he dared not question Raven’s remark. When they reached the terrace, the captain turned back to survey the grounds of the impressive estate that now belonged to him, but Peter saw only sorrow in his dark eyes, rather than a warm glow of pride. Thinking perhaps he wished to be alone for a moment, he stepped by him.
“I’ll take this on up to your room, m’lord.”
“What? Oh yes, thank you.” Raven was unaccustomed to being addressed in that fashion, and needing some time to get used to it, he was indeed glad to have a few moments to gather his thoughts before entering the house. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze focused on the Jamaican Wind anchored in the bay. He had always felt more at home on the sea than on land, and despite what he knew would be an entirely new set of responsibilities, he did not want his life ever to change.
Startled by the sound of Eden’s voice, Raven wheeled around to find her running toward him. She was dressed in a gray gown she had worn for one of their afternoon outings, but his opinion of her was so low, he was not surprised to find she had not chosen to wear black as any other newly widowed woman surely would have.
“Eden,” was all he managed to gasp before she threw herself into his arms.
“Oh Raven, I knew you’d not disappoint me!” Eden hugged him tightly, enormously relieved and reassured by his presence. She closed her eyes and held on to him for a long moment, grateful for his warmth when she felt chilled clear to the bone. Raven was shocked by the enthusiasm of Eden’s greeting until he remembered that she had always been a far more demonstrative person than he. Certain they were being observed from the house by the servants, and possibly a great many people paying sympathy calls, he responded by enfolding her in a light embrace and patted her back with what he hoped would pass for a soothing rhythm.
To his utter dismay, he immediately discovered the sensation of holding the fair beauty was far more pleasurable than merely dancing with her had been. She was pressing her whole body against his as though he were her dearest relative, and even though he was appalled by her boldness, he had to fight the nearly overwhelming impulse to cling to her just as tightly.
Her perfume was a light floral scent that not only clung to her somber clothing but also graced her tawny hair. As she lay her head against his chest, her upswept curls brushed his chin like a silken caress, sending his senses reeling. He was unable to draw a breath for a moment as with a lover’s grace Eden swayed against him. Appalled by the speed of his body’s predictable and, he was certain, totally inappropriate response, he forced himself to grasp her waist firmly and pushed her an arm’s length away.
“Forgive me,” Eden begged, for a few seconds as disoriented as Raven. The usually aloof young man’s embrace had been so like that of her beloved husband that she knew she had lingered in his arms far too long. Not ashamed to admit how badly she needed his comfort, however, she attempted to smile as bravely as she had all day.
“Would you like to sit with Alex for a while before I tell them to close the coffin?” she asked considerately.
Not even tempted to spend a few minutes alone with the dead man, Raven shook his head. “No, thank you. I want to remember him as he was.”
Eden took Raven’s arm as they started toward the double doors that led into the house. “I wish I had been able to do that but he died in my arms. One minute we were laughing together, and in the next he was gone. Did Peter tell you what happened?”
“Yes.” Raven knew it would be polite to inquire how she was getting along, but the answer was too obvious to merit wasting his breath. Eden was doing beautifully. He stood by her side as she calmly gave Jonathan Abbot, the butler, the order to close Alex’s coffin and see that it was promptly delivered to the church in Exeter. Apparently she had been awaiting his arrival, and now saw no reason for further delay. Raven reminded himself that Alex had been dead for three days, but still Eden’s haste to have the funeral struck him as unseemly.
Eden slipped her hand into Raven’s as they took their places in the first pew. The church was filled to overflowing with sailors, townspeople, servants, and tenant farmers. It was an unusual gathering but she had known most of Alex’s close friends would be in London and unable to reach Briarcliff in time to attend the service. She was pleased that so many others who had known and admired her husband had wanted to be with him now.
