Page 32 of Swept Away


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“Are you always so practical?” Eden asked in a stunning imitation of the sarcastic tone he resorted to so often. She was certain she would never understand him. He had insulted her deeply, but rather than apologize, he simply wanted to discuss how they would turn a profit on what he had chosen to view as a business deal rather than a noble effort to aid the Confederacy. In her opinion, leaping over issues in such a fashion was no way to settle them. It was plain in his expression that he did not believe a word she said, and she was swiftly learning that he hurt her far too often for her to trust him.

“Always,” Raven replied proudly, for he considered the practical aspects of his nature a valuable asset. “Do you feel up to going up on deck for a few minutes? Perhaps some fresh air will inspire some much-needed ideas.”

Although she had slept all afternoon, Eden still felt weary. “No, I’d rather just go to bed and continue this discussion at another time,” she suggested, although she doubted Raven would ever be in a more reasonable mood. Now in a terrible mood herself, she longed to be left alone. The taste of the blackberry brandy brought back the most erotic of her memories, and she wanted to be alone with them.

“Alex must have had his own cabin. Would you mind if I used it tonight?”

“Yes, I most certainly would. Have you forgotten what I said on our wedding night? I don’t care how bitter our arguments become, I’ll always want you.”

Eden took another sip of brandy to stall for time, but could think of no way to change Raven’s mind. “You are a very strange man, Raven.”

Both pleased and puzzled that she had spoken in such a reasonable tone, Raven took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Strange? I’ve been called many things, but never that. In what way do you consider me strange?”

“You seem to think you can insult me in any way you choose and then be welcome in my bed.”

“The only bed available tonight happens to be mine, my lady, and I’ll always do my best to make you feel welcome in it.”

Eden looked up at him, and rebelling against the smugness of his smile, both her gaze and expression became defiant. “And if I do not choose to be made welcome?”

Raven broke into a wide grin. “I’ll consider it a challenge to change your mind, and you already know how easily I can do it,” he bragged confidently.

Disgusted with that boast, Eden refused to back down. “There seems to be only one thing about me that you like, and you can get that elsewhere.”

Raven took the precaution of setting his brandy snifter down on the table before he stepped to Eden’s side and yanked her to her feet. Holding her pressed tightly against his chest, he emphatically refused that insulting suggestion. “You are my wife, Eden, and I will be as faithful to you as Alex would have been. Would you have refused his affection, or told him to sleep with whores?”

Shocked that he would compare himself to Alex, Eden turned her head away. “He loved me,” she reminded him. “It’s plain that you never will.”

“Never is an exceedingly long time.”

“Not nearly long enough where you are concerned,” Eden vowed darkly.

As disgusted with her as she was with him, Raven dropped his hands to his sides, then turned and went out the door. He closed it softly behind him, but he was seething all the same. He was well aware that he lacked the warmth to inspire the devotion Alex had always received from women, but if Eden thought she could shut him out of her bedroom, she would soon learn just how mistaken she was.

Eden grabbed for the back of her chair to steady herself, but that did not serve to stop the dizziness that had enveloped her when Raven had jerked her to her feet. From her past experience with him, she thought him far too proud of his talents at seduction to force himself on her, but the thought of having to make love with him later that night truly sickened her. He cared nothing for her—she was merely convenient, that was all. That he had once served exactly the same purpose for her was more than she could bear to admit.

The return voyage to London was an easy one. Raven was not needed on deck but he remained there until midnight anyway. He had never struck a woman, and had no intention of beginning with his wife, but as long as he was angry enough to strangle her, he wisely stayed away. When he at last returned to his cabin, Eden had been asleep for several hours. He had half expected her to hurl the bottle of brandy at him as he came through the door, and it was a relief to find she had not waited up to confront him anew.

As he undressed, Raven was sorry their second day of marriage had not ended on a better note. Not expecting her to deny all knowledge of the order Alex had wanted placed with the Armoury, he had again made the mistake of speaking his mind without considering what Eden’s reaction would be. Damn it all, he swore to himself, a man ought not to have to watch every word that he spoke to his wife.

As he eased himself into the cabin’s single bunk, he considered his crew’s opinion dead wrong. To them Eden might have appeared to have switched her affections to him with shocking speed, but in reality she was still Alex’s wife, and it seemed now that she always would be. He had not wanted a wife, and now it seemed to Raven that fate had granted his wish in the cruelest of ways.

Saddened by how poorly they were getting along, he drew Eden into his arms and made himself as comfortable as possible without waking her. He wished she were half as warm and pliant when she was awake as when she was asleep. Even in her dreams her pose was such a graceful one he could not help but want to snuggle close, but it was a long while before he fell asleep when he dreaded what the next day would bring.

Eden awakened as Raven left the cabin the following morning. He had closed the door quietly, but she had still heard it swing shut. She sat up slowly, but the nausea that had plagued her the previous morning returned in a sickening wave that sent her right back to the comfort of the blankets and pillows. After lying still for a moment, the feeling abated slightly, but she was positive it was not the rolling motion of the ship which had upset her stomach for she now recalled that the same queasiness had greeted her upon waking several mornings at Briarcliff. She had blamed it on her grief then, and Raven’s stubborn persistence in occupying her bed, but now she recognized that might not be the case.

She could think of only one likely possibility that would cause a

woman to feel so wretched upon awaking. She and Alex had made love often during their brief marriage, but they had not once considered the possibility of her conceiving his child. It was an overwhelming thought even now, and Eden’s eyes filled with tears as she realized Alex would never know he had fathered a child. That would be heartbreaking, but at the same time, Eden knew she wanted Alex’s child with a desperation she had never before known.

Believing she had had ample opportunity to become pregnant, Eden sat up more slowly this time. After a brief struggle, she gained control of her rebellious stomach and rose to her feet. Making her way to her luggage with cautious steps, she was not too dizzy to search through her belongings for her diary. Her own body’s rhythm had always followed as predictable a sequence as the moon, until that very month. She counted the days twice to make certain she had not made an error in her calculations, and just as she had suspected, her monthly flow was overdue by a week.

Had the tragedy of Alex’s death upset her body as greatly as it had her heart and mind? That seemed possible, but she did not want it to be the case. The door swung open then, and Raven strode in carrying a teapot and basket of hot biscuits. Eden quickly clutched the small leather bound volume to her breast as though it contained her deepest secrets rather than only a listing of social engagements and a personal calendar.

“I thought you might want some breakfast.” He placed the items he had brought on the table before turning to face her. Then noting her bewildered expression, he pulled out a chair. “I think you’d better sit down if you’re not feeling any better than you look.”

Eden swept her hair out of her eyes with a nervous flip, slid into the chair he had offered, and hid her diary in her lap. She watched him bring cups, a sugar bowl, and spoons from one of the cabin’s many ingeniously designed cupboards and debated whether or not she ought to confide her suspicions in him. He was very bright. How long would it take him to realize she felt ill only in the mornings? Regardless of when that was, she knew he would promptly accuse her of lying to him for keeping such an important matter a secret. Maybe every recent widow felt as awful as she did, and hoped she was pregnant, so she did not want to share her suspicions for another few weeks. How long did a woman usually wait before announcing such news to her husband, one month, two?

She could imagine no greater comfort than having Alex’s child to raise, but she had no idea what Raven would say to that. He had loved Alex too—would he be happy for her, or merely grow increasingly more infuriated as his pretty bedmate’s figure took on the proportions of incipient motherhood? That she did not know the man well enough to judge his reaction saddened her greatly.

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