Bound by the Heart (27 page)

Summer felt the chill of apprehension ripple through
her even as Glasse began guiding her back toward the receiving line. She saw
Bennett's suntanned features angled in her direction, and she had time to
wonder briefly at the knowing smile he gave Farley Glasse . . . and then her
gaze froze on the main entrance hall.

Captain Morgan Wade was standing in the open doorway,
as cool and indifferent as if he belonged. His black wavy hair was as unruly as
ever, standing out in the sea of white rolled periwigs that surrounded him. His
handsome face wore the familiar half-mocking smile. His broad shoulders were
encased in an elegant maroon cutaway jacket set off by a silvered brocade
waistcoat and white breeches. He exuded an air of power and insolence that
slowly drew every eye in the room his way. And every eye that was not on Morgan
Wade was fastened on the woman standing by his side: as cool and seductive a
beauty as Summer had ever seen.

"Well, imagine that," Glasse murmured.
"He actually had the gall to accept the invitation."

"Invitation!" Summer gasped. "You
invited him here tonight!"

"Only as a matter of formality, my dear. We heard
he was in the area, and as it happens, he owns a sizable sugarcane plantation
outside of Marchfield. We could hardly invite every other planter on the
islands and not him. Besides, there is an unwritten amnesty during the entire
week of the Governor's Ball. He knows he's as safe as a virgin while he's
anchored in Bridgetown."

Summer whirled and stared at Morgan Wade. He was not
looking out over the dance floor and so had not seen her yet. Bennett was
watching her closely, observing her shock and dismay, and she knew, suddenly,
the reason for his cloying good humor of the past few days. The bodice of her
gown cut into her flesh as she tried to calm her breathing, and she realized
that there, too, she had fallen into his plans. He had clothed her like a prime
courtesan, proclaiming his absolute possession for everyone to see.
. . . He even offered the
perfect bait.
...

Summer's eyes rested on the woman accompanying Wade,
and her heart took a further sickening plunge. She was nothing less than what
Summer expected to see with a man like Morgan Wade—and what a fool she was to
think he would remain alone for any length of time.

"Mrs. Winfield, you seem a little pale,"
Glasse breathed in her ear. "Perhaps you should be by your husband's side
at a time like this."

"Oh, no! No, I—"

"Come along, Mrs. Winfield." His voice was
grating and his grip decisive on her arm. "We mustn't keep you from your
duties as hostess."

Summer's head swam in a mist of confusion as she was
led to the entrance of the ballroom. She could hear Michael's enthusiastic
greeting and Morgan Wade's deep, throaty laugh.

"Is Mr. Thorntree with you, sir? Is he in
Bridgetown?"

"He is indeed, lad. I'll tell him you asked after
him; that should raise a spark or two."

"Oh, yes, please do, sir. And the same for Mr.
Roarke and Mr.—"

"Now, now, Michael," Sir Lionel interrupted.
"You mustn't pester Captain Wade. I'm sure you will have ample time later
to chat with him."

Wade's smile altered subtly. "I must say your
invitation came as a surprise, Sir Lionel. I am honored."

"Well, ah . . ." Sir Lionel cleared his
throat. "Nonsense, m'good man. It was the least I could do. We were mighty
grateful to you last summer, mighty grateful."

Wade nodded curtly. "Allow me to present Mrs.
Teague
...
Sir Lionel
Cambridge."

The beauty held out a hand to Sir Lionel, who had
already warmed several shades darker at the proximity to her cleavage. Her gown
was rose-colored and consisted of two sheer layers of tulle, the top one seeded
liberally with spangles of silver beading around the hem. She was nearly as
tall as Wade and had deep chestnut brown hair and the green eyes of a tigress.
Sir Lionel continued to hold her hand as he proceeded with the introductions.

"You, er, know my son-in-law, Captain. . .
Commodore Bennett Winfield?"

"By reputation only," Wade said easily, bowing.
"I understand our paths have just missed crossing one another on several
occasions."

Bennett's gaze was locked to Wade's, and for a moment
he could not speak. Had he needed any further proof, it was there in the depths
of the dark, slightly violet blue eyes. Sarah Hogarth Winfield's eyes were the
same dark, slightly violet blue.

"Your reputation, Captain Wade," he said
tersely, "leaves my own somewhat lacking, I'm afraid."

"Not at all. My associates tell me the
Caledonia
has become a formidable sight
on the horizon."

"My duty is to keep the sea lanes clear for
British ships going about their lawful trade. If your 'associates' feel
threatened in some way, perhaps they should look elsewhere for business."

The two men sized up one another silently.

"Perhaps they should," Wade murmured.
"Is there any small corner of the ocean you monarchists deem to be
unclaimed territory?"

Bennett's smile was equally sardonic. "I'm not
sure. I could look into it for you if you are toying with the idea of a
permanent change of climate. But forgive me, I am being remiss. . . . you have,
of course, met my wife?"

The dark blue eyes were on Summer without warning. She
was braced to see almost anything—from horror to complete surprise. Anything
but polite nonchalance.

"Mrs. Winfield. It is indeed a pleasure to see
you again. You will have to accept my belated congratulations. I was only
recently informed of your marriage."

"Thank you, Captain. And how is Mr. Roarke?"

"As well as can be expected." He smiled. An
introduction was made to Mrs. Teague to which Summer murmured something
hopelessly inadequate, and then he moved on.

". . . Mr. Farley Glasse—" she heard Bennett
say. She looked up in time to see the blue eyes flick away from her face, and
she remembered, with a jolt of panic, what she had neglected to tell Stuart
Roarke that night in the carriage—"He is attached to the Admiralty in an
advisory capacity."

"Captain." Glasse savored a deep breath,
like a cobra preparing to strike. "I have long been looking forward to
meeting you. We too seem to have had paths that have crossed but never quite
touched."

Wade arched a brow. "Glasse? The name is not familiar
to me."

"There is no reason why it should be,"
Glasse shrugged. "My dealings were more with your father . . . when he was
the king's exchequer."

Something shadowed Wade's eyes a moment. It passed
quickly, so quickly Summer wondered if the others had seen it at all.

"You must have me confused with someone else,
sir," Wade said, keeping his voice level. "My family were Virginia
farmers whose only dealings with the king involved chasing his soldiers off
their land thirty-odd years ago. Now, if you will excuse us, I see we are
holding up the guests, Gentlemen"—he raised one of Summer's ice-cold hands
and pressed it to his lips—"Mrs. Winfield."

Summer watched them descend the four shallow steps
into the ballroom. Mrs. Teague moved as if on a cushion of air, impervious to
the stares and whispers that followed in their wake. She held attentively to
Wade's arm as he smiled broadly and tilted his dark head to exchange some
remark with her.

"Well, my dear, that was a fair
performance," Bennett said. "Not perfect, but passable."

Summer rounded on her husband. "You truly
surprise me, Bennett. Each time I think you have stooped as low as you possibly
can, you prove me wrong."

"Whereas you are as predictable as the trade
winds, my pet. Always stormy, always going against the tide." He glanced
at Wade and his companion. "You seemed distressed at the captain's choice
of a partner."

"Why should that distress me?" she snapped.

"No reason. It was merely an observation."
He smiled and turned to Farley Glasse. "Have the arrangements all been
taken care of?"

"Adequately." Glasse bowed stiffly to Summer
and Sir Lionel. "And now I shall beg my apologies. Urgent business calls
me away."

"Business?" Sir Lionel frowned. "Ah . .
. ahem, yes. Yes, nice of you to come, Glasse."

The attaché smiled cryptically one last time at Summer
and strode toward the exit.

"What business?" Summer demanded. "What
other treachery have you planned for this evening?"

"Treachery?" Bennett looked amused. "At
the Governor's Ball? Come now, Summer, you're allowing your imagination to run
rampant again. What possible treachery could we concoct? The man is a neutral,
his ship is anchored peacefully in the harbor."

"In Bridgetown?"

"As safe as anywhere else, I should think."

"That is exactly what your Mr. Glasse told me,
and it sounded just as phony and insincere coming from him."

He took her arm and led her down onto the dance floor.
"What possible concern is it to you how sincere I am about my dealings
with Morgan Wade?"

"Absolutely none," she said, sensing his
pleasure at her discomfort.

The pale eyes raked down over the hard swell of her
breasts, down to linger on the lithe, satin-sheathed body. "I am relieved
to hear you say that. I should hate to think what effect a lot of unfounded
gossip would have on you or your daughter."

"Sarah? What does Sarah have to do with any of
this?"

"Nothing at all . . . if you behave yourself. On
the other hand, a word here, a word there . . . she could grow up to be the
most talked-about bastard in town."

Summer's heart ground to a halt. He saw the gray eyes
widen, and his hand circled her waist to keep her from stumbling out of their
stride. He danced smoothly for a sequence of intricate turns before looking
down at her.

"Did you really think you could get away with
it?"

"Bennett, I—"

"Uh-uh," he cautioned, and his hand squeezed
hers. "It won't do you any good to lie at this stage, and frankly, I'm
beyond giving a damn. If it becomes common knowledge, it only makes you the
whore and me the injured, lovesick husband willing to forgive the errant wife,
et cetera, et cetera.

"We are, after all, civilized adults," he
continued. "You need something from me, and I need something from you.
Surely we can arrive at an amicable arrangement to suit us both?"

"Arrangement?"

He laughed and drew several knowing glances: They were
the perfect couple, dancing and enjoying each other's presence.

"You needn't look so horrified, my pet. Your body
has long since ceased to interest me. I have found, over the past months, that
there are an astonishing number of willing participants in the world, greedy,
eager little bitches who have nothing more important on their minds than
finding new ways to please me."

Summer averted her eyes, feeling the revulsion wash
through her in cold shudders.

"No, my dear, what I want from you is precisely
what you are giving me here tonight. I want a beautiful, gracious wife on my
arm, a charming hostess at my dinner table. In exchange I will be the perfectly
charming, gracious husband. I will accept the responsibility of being the
father of your child, and I will give her anything and everything you might
want for her. Oh, yes—and in the matter of your past association with Morgan
Wade, it should be forgotten and unmentioned. There will be no communication,
no accidental meetings on the street, no contact present or future in any way,
shape or form. Although"—he glanced past her shoulder to where Morgan and
Mrs. Teague were parting the crowds with their dancing—"he hardly appears
to want it himself. Arianna Teague. It seems I have heard the name mentioned
with fond reverence"—he laughed briefly—"however, my dear, should you
unwisely venture to see your ex-lover, I shall declare the child a bastard to
anyone who will listen. I will disown her publicly, divorce you and do my
damnedest to bring ruin down upon your entire family."

He smoothed a golden curl off the curve of her
shoulder.

"Does that sound agreeable, my dear?"

Summer could only stare up at him with loathing,
knowing he had won. He would do as he threatened and take pleasure in seeing
her and her family humiliated beyond salvation. She had no recourse but to
accept the fact that he would and could use Sarah's future to hold her where he
wanted her. She stared into the pale blue eyes and felt the jaws of the steely
trap snap shut.

Chapter
17