Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

Alex ignored the aghast expression on Captain Duffey’s rain-slapped face when he lurched onto deck, his wife in his arms. He found a spot protected from the slashing rain and wind just outside the wheelhouse and ordered a tired sailor to bring him a chair.

To his relief, he felt Giana relax in his arms within minutes. Alex slipped his hand under the mound of blankets and gently touched her belly.

“Better?”

“Oh yes. I cannot believe it. Alex?”

A sheet of blowing rain whipped around the side of the wheelhouse, and Alex lowered his head to protect her. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He dropped a light kiss on her brow, and smiled. “You are most welcome, Mrs. Saxton. If we don’t get washed overboard, perhaps I have found a cure.”

They slept through the morning, their first unbroken sleep in nearly three days. When they awoke, Alex grinned shamelessly at the passengers who lay huddled around them on the deck.

“Quite a honeymoon,” he said, delighted to see her color returned. “Never has a man who is not even a husband endured such a sorry excuse for a wife—”

“Who is not even a wife,” she said. “I must look awful.” She tried to free her hand from the blankets, but Alex held her still.

“I am getting used to your greenish complexion, Giana. Since you’re showing signs of renewed vanity, do you think you could drink some hot broth perhaps? I don’t want a wraith on my arm when we arrive in New York.”

She blinked, surprised at herself. “I’m starving,” she said.

When she had finished the broth, and a piece of bread as well, she slept again, and did not wake until evening. She stretched in Alex’s arms, and felt him burrow his hand to her belly.

“No more cramping, Giana? You feel better?”

“Yes, I promise. But how your arms must feel.”

“If you survive, my arms will also, princess.” He paused a moment, staring toward the gray, rolling storm clouds. “It occurred to me,” he said, “that we have not spoken much of my family.”

She smiled up at him. “Delaney Saxton, sir, I know quite a bit about. My research into your skeletons, you know, before you came to London. He is twenty-eight, and unwed. He is still in California?”

“Yes, indeed. My last letter from him was gleeful. He appears to be gambling on making his fortune in gold, owns two gold mines now, and also has the dubious pleasure of having been drafted into local politics. He was in the thick of things when California was admitted into the union last year as a free state.”

“At least England, with all her faults, did away with that nonsense.”

“It is true we are fast evolving into two separate nations, shouting at each other through their newspapers. Henry Clay, the senator from Kentucky, staved off a confront

ation for at least a while with his compromise last year. I wrote to Delaney that he should stump about the West a bit if he wants to make a name for himself.”

“And likely spend all his gold in the process. I look forward to meeting him, Alex, but I shall meet your daughter, Leah, first. And she is truly the dark horse to me.”

“She is a charming little girl, I believe, not at all standoffish.”

“You are probably a great cuddly bear to her. Does she resemble you?”

“Somewhat, I guess. Our eyes are the same, but for the rest—” He shrugged. “I would appreciate your being kind to her, Giana. I have been away a lot in recent years, and she has been left overmuch to her governess.”

“That,” Giana said firmly, “I do know about. You didn’t think I would act like the wicked stepmother, did you?”

“No, but then again, you will not be staying overlong in New York, will you?” She said nothing. “I ask only that for the time we are together, you treat her with smiles and kindness.”

“That, Mr. Saxton, you may count on. I haven’t been much around children, but she is special, is she not?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, “very special.”

Giana blurted out, “Laura must have been special too, Alex.”