Ravishing Regencies- The Complete Series

by Emily Murdoch

  The end of his sentence hung in the roaring gale.

  “We will be miles from Port Royal,” said Nerissa hopelessly.

  “Better miles on land than miles by ocean,” he said. “Look, Nerissa – and I think in the circumstances, I should be permitted to call you by your first name. I know that you are frightened, and cold, and probably angry at me for some unknown reason that is in no way my fault.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but seawater filled it, and besides, there seemed to be a sparkle in Anthony’s eye.

  “But the best thing that we can do is try to get to dry land. We can worry about who hates the other more when we can feel sand beneath our feet.”

  Despite herself, Nerissa had to admit that she was impressed. She had not imagined that he had it in him, this ability to calm her, to think of others. It was not the Count Anthony that she had met in the court room, nor the man who had teased her on the Sea Scout.

  No, this was a caring Anthony. One that thought about others before himself, a man who was aware of another’s feelings.

  This, she thought with a wry smile, was a man whom she could truly care for.

  “‘Tis agreed then,” he said quietly. “Follow me.”

  It felt like an eternity to Nerissa, striking out as they did for the small piece of shore that they could make out. The thunder and lightning still roared, and the rain was distracting, falling continuously on them as they tried to swim against the current.

  Whether it was ten minutes, an hour, or half a day, Nerissa could not tell. All she knew was that by the time that her feet managed to touch sand and she staggered onto the beach in the twilight of the day, she was absolutely exhausted.

  “We…we made it,” she managed, half sitting, half falling onto the golden sand that was sticking to her. “We are alive.”

  “We are indeed.” Anthony collapsed beside her. “This has got to stop happening to me, really, it is all too ridiculous. Two catastrophes in three days, and the Marietta really was a disaster, and I still have no idea why it sunk…”

  They looked out together at the storm. It was already starting to wane, having blown itself out across the bay. They could see lightning forking down and touching the sea, but all the strikes were closer to the horizon now.

  Nerissa swallowed, and tasted salt. It was sticky on the beach, the air hot as it always was. Her gown, thin and light to keep her cool, was already starting to dry.

  “There,” said Anthony with a smile that she did not return. “Did I not tell you that we would make it here, to this part of Jamaica?”

  Being alive and being grateful that she was alive did not stop Nerissa from feeling irritation, and it welled up slightly now as he spoke.

  “We are still hours away from civilisation,” she pointed out. “Hours that we do not seem to have today. It will be tomorrow before we can return to Port Royal, and my…my father will think…”

  She did not have to continue. Her poor father: after losing the love of his life to the ocean, would tonight look out and think that he had lost the only other precious woman in his life.

  “Civilisation is overrated,” Anthony grinned. “But for you, Nerissa, I will attempt to be civilised.”

  She felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with the exhaustion she felt in her bones from the exertion of swimming so far. Did she even want him civilised – or did she want him raw, animalistic, hungry for –

  “Are you hungry?”

  Nerissa blushed as Anthony’s words cut right into her thoughts, and she smiled as she nodded.

  Anthony stood up wearily and held out a hand to her. “And I do not suppose that you brought any food or sustenance with you on your travels? No hidden pockets of food anywhere that you would like to own up to?”

  Nerissa smiled as he pulled her to her feet. “Not in this gown.”

  He sighed, and offered an arm mockingly to her. “Well in that case, we shall simply have to make do with the best we have. Miss Fairchild, may I escort you?”

  There was a strange tingling across her body as she took his arm, but instead of attempting to ignore it, Nerissa revelled in it. Here was a man that could make her feel something, feel something incredible. The question was, how far was she willing to explore it?

  “Count Anthony, it would be my pleasure.”

  5

  It was only after the storm had blown past, when twilight started to fall and the chirping of birds started to fall silent in the trees, that Anthony started to feel the tension in his shoulders disappear. They had walked on grasslands, over tree roots, and under dark leafy canopies for what felt like an hour, but now they had found exactly what they had been looking for.

  “Will this do?” Nerissa looked around at the clearing in the trees that they had stumbled into, feet weary and attention to logs on the ground failing. “Is this what you want?”

  Anthony looked around him. He would never have considered himself an outdoorsman, and it was always Samuel, his closest friend, who was the best rider and hunter. But he had camped outside with his father when a boy, and those small lessons that he had barely thought worthy of his notice at seven were now as valuable as gold at seven and twenty.

  “Yes,” he said slowly, inclining his ear. “Yes, I can hear running water. A stream is what we need, somewhere to get fresh water.”

  “And shelter?”

  He watched Nerissa who had neither complained nor grumbled during their long walk – how long, he could not tell, his pocket watch had been consumed by the ocean. She looked a little worse for wear, even he would admit, with her hair glistening with dried sea salt, diamond earrings barely visible beneath her long curls, and her gown torn in several places.

  But what a woman. What other woman would happily meander in the hope of finding somewhere to rest with a man she only met the day before?

  “Anthony? Anthony, can you hear me?” Nerissa had walked up to him and was smiling, waving a hand before his face.

  Anthony coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Yes, a shelter. All we will need is a few branches, and if we balance them carefully here…”

  But she was ignoring him. “I am not altogether sure that we require a shelter, Anthony.”

  There was a twist in his stomach each time he heard her say his name, and although hundreds had spoken it before her, she brought something new to it. Something that turned up the heat in his stomach and made him want to –

  “And why is that?” He said, walking into the middle of the small clearing and trying to ignore the impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her.

  Nerissa smiled at him over her shoulder, and his stomach contracted again.

  “Because this is Jamaica,” she said simply. “I have lived here far longer than you, and I can tell you that at this time of year, the temperature will hardly drop overnight. We need somewhere comfortable to sleep, not warm.”

  Anthony was still pulling at a large branch, but he smiled. “And if a storm comes, and rain pours down so heavily that we become wet to the skin? Will we be warm then?”

  He glanced up at her and saw a strange expression on her face. Something close to…admiration?

  In a few steps, she had joined him and together they managed to wrench the branch from one tree, and place it sturdily against another to form a small shelter.

  After their efforts, Nerissa dusted down her hands and then threw herself on the ground in the middle of the clearing, eyes staring upwards at the stars which were starting to appear in the velvet blue sky.

  “‘Tis a shame though,” she said quietly. “I have always wanted to sleep in the open air.”

  Anthony watched her, taken aback by her adventurous spirit. Would this woman never cease to amaze him? There seemed to be greater depths to her than any other person he had ever met. Each time he thought that he understood her then, a new refinement appeared, a new vision into who she was.

  “I suppose there will always be another time,” she said lazily, and closed her e
yes for a moment, revelling in the sensation of lying down and not struggling through undergrowth as they had done for so long.

  As she lay there, Anthony had a flash of imagination that rushed into his brain: the image of himself above her as she lay there, kissing her, touching her in a way that caused her to cry out but not in pain but in pleasure. And the image changed, and her gown, ripped and torn as it was, had disappeared, and so had his shirt and breeches, and –

  “Is anything the matter, Anthony? You are very quiet.”

  Anthony snapped away from the mesmerising daydream only to realise that his fists had clenched with physical anticipation. Now he was filled with nothing but embarrassment, but as he looked down at her with clearer eyes, he could still see her beauty, her elegance, and the delicious contours of her body.

  Nerissa was still smiling at him, unaware of his carnal desires for her. “Are you hungry?”

  He could have laughed with the irony, but before he could even think what to say, his stomach rumbled loudly.

  “I think that answers my question!” She was laughing now, and she sat up and crossed her legs. “You know, I never thought that I would miss Cook Nancy’s cooking, and yet here I am, desperate for it.”

  Anthony grinned back. There was something so comforting about Nerissa, comfortable. He did not feel any need to be Count Stratham with her but just Anthony, whoever that was.

  “Is she really dreadful?”

  “Dreadful is not the word,” Nerissa mused. “Badly inspired. You know she once decided that she was going to make me an apple crumble, one of my favourite puddings, but without apples any other cook would have decided that it was not possible. But not Cook Nancy.”

  Anthony could not help himself. Like a moth drawn to the flame, he stepped forward slightly, and smiled encouragingly, wanting her to continue.

  A broad grin now covered Nerissa’s face as she remembered. “So she went to the market and found that ortaniques were being sold cheaply for it was the end of their season…and so pineapple crumble it was!”

  He laughed, and unconsciously found himself seated beside her. “That sounds absolutely disgusting! And yet how sad that even the thought of that terrible pudding is making me feel even hungrier!”

  It was a complaint in jest, but his stomach gave another rumble and he clutched at it, desperately hoping that it would quieten.

  Nerissa shook her head with a wry smile. “I do not believe that either you or I will get much sleep tonight with that rumble echoing throughout the night!”

  “I apologise,” Anthony said hastily. “I cannot help it.”

  It was then that she looked at him strangely, and he realised that he was but a foot away from her. He was close, very close, and she was staring at him as though he had started speaking in French.

  “You know,” she said lightly, her dark blue eyes never leaving his own, “I think that is the first genuine apology that I have ever heard from you.”

  Anthony looked at her and swallowed. “I know.”

  The moment could have lasted forever, that gaze between them, an understanding that had transcended all their previous conversations – had it not been for his own ravenous stomach.

  Nerissa shook her head, and rose to her feet. “I have lived in Port Royal long enough to know that there should be some cherries growing wild here. They are perfectly safe to eat, if you can find them.”

  Anthony watched her beautiful face look left and right, and though his body ached with tiredness and fatigue, his body stirred at the thought of being far from her, of losing the closeness that they had at this very moment.

  “I will take a look down here, near the stream,” she said decisively and started to walk away.

  He groaned inwardly, but knew that he could not let her out of his sight. Try as he might to convince himself that it was for safety – for who knew what manner of beasts lived in these forests? – he knew that he simply could not be away from her.

  Pulling himself up, he strode after her, and after five minutes, they found a bush absolutely covered with dark red Jamaican cherries.

  “Success with speed,” he said with a grin, and Nerissa nodded, showing him the handful that she had already collected.

  As she busied herself with plucking the cherries from their stems, he stared at her, glorifying in the opportunity to take in every facet of her face. The sloping nose, the full rosebud mouth, the glittering eyes; there was not a trace of her father to be seen in her features.

  “You must look exactly like your mother.”

  It was only when Nerissa started and looked up at him with a shocked expression that Anthony realised that he had spoken the words aloud.

  “Forgive me,” he said hastily, “I did not mean to – ”

  “You are correct. I am apparently the mirror to her,” she nodded. “I was but seventeen when she died, so I do not have an exact comparison, but people sometimes mistake me for her. Those that knew and loved her.”

  Anthony’s eyes flickered across her face. “She must have been very beautiful.”

  There – was there a flush there on her cheeks? Anthony did not know why he was so interested in Mrs Fairchild, but evidently Nerissa had loved her mother dearly. To know her mother better was to know her better.

  “And…and your mother did not live here in Port Royal?” He asked tentatively.

  Nerissa looked away from him and continued picking the cherries, but she did not seem affronted by the question. “No. No, she died on the journey over here.”

  “If you do not want to – ”

  “It is quite alright,” she said with a weak smile. “It makes me equally happy and sad to speak of her. She was…she was an incredible woman. Her spirit was one of adventure, and it was actually she who encouraged my father to apply for the job here, at the Olympic Shipping Company, right from the beginning.”

  Anthony raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought that a woman would have preferred a simple, quiet life.”

  “That shows just how much you know about women,” Nerissa retorted, tartly. “No, my father wanted to advance, wanted to provide for us, but it was my mother who had the bravery to consider a new life on new shores. If it was not for her encouragement, of course, she…she would not have drowned.”

  Anthony’s heart broke for her a little as she spoke. What a terrible end for a courageous woman.

  Nerissa fell silent and continued to pick the cherries without saying another word. He ached for her like he had never ached for another human being in his life.

  “If I could but take away all the cares from your heart,” he said softly.

  She smiled wanly but did not look at him, concentrating on not getting prickled by the bush. “Ah, but Anthony, ‘tis the pain that we feel which reminds us that we truly have loved.”

  There was something wrong with his throat, and Anthony found that tears were threatening to fall from his eyes.

  In an attempt to prevent himself crying far more than anything else, he said gruffly, “But you have made a life here, and that must be pleasant. There must be wonderful society here.”

  Nerissa laughed and started to hand cherries to Anthony to hold as her left hand was full. “I think that is more wishful thinking than anything else!”

  “It is not diverting enough for you here?”

  “It is certainly nothing like my memories of London society,” she said with a smile, “although I admit that I am almost certain that my recollections of my time in London are not entirely accurate. I was only there for one season, you see, and that was five years ago.”

  This felt like a much safer topic to Anthony, and so he decided to plough on with some recollections of his own, rather saucier adventures in the capital of the world.

  “If you have not been there in five years, you will not have heard of Alexander, Duke of Caershire’s scandalous marriage?”

  He saw her eyes brighten, and warmth washed over him to give her such pleasure.

  “Ah, you sho
uld have been there when she was first presented at court. Miss Teresa Metcalfe, as was, had spent some years as a courtesan to the rich and famous – ”

  “So you knew her, then?” Nerissa interrupted with a sardonic smile that Anthony felt looked a little more enquiring than usual.

  He swallowed, and thanked God that his one opportunity to get to know Miss Teresa a lot better had been accidentally thwarted by Samuel’s most recent escapade.

  “No,” he said firmly. “But when the newly created Duchess Teresa was presented at court, the Regent obviously was decorum itself, but the Royal Chamberlain snubbed her by refusing to take her hand after the presentation.”

  Nerissa’s eyes were wide now, and she had forgotten her cherry picking in the depths of the story. “And?”

  “And Teresa,” laughed Anthony, “looked him up and down and said, ‘My goodness, sir, you must barely recognise me. I certainly hardly recognise you with so many clothes on!’”

  Their laughter echoed in the trees around the clearing, and Anthony found himself finding more joy in her merriment than in his own. To make Nerissa Fairchild laugh, to make her happy every day – why did he long for her almost as much as he longed for her body?

  “And yet despite all of the glittering lights and entertainments that London can offer,” he said more seriously, “nothing has compared to the time that I have spent with you over the last two days.”

  Nerissa’s laughter slowed and disappeared, but she was still smiling and did not take her eyes from Anthony. Without looking down at her hands, she placed a cherry in her mouth and the deep red juice coated her lips.

  Anthony swallowed. He was in very real danger of dropping all the cherries that they had gathered to the ground, kissing Nerissa very hard on the mouth, and taking her right there in this forest if he was not too careful. He could see the same desire in her eyes, a desire that she did not quite understand, but it was growing, it was real.

  Realisation dawned across his mind, and his body stirred to attention. He could have her; he could make love to Nerissa and she would probably not resist. She was hardly his typical woman, and she was adventurous, and kind, and everything about her was enwrapt in the most arousing body he had ever seen.