The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance

by Sharon Cullen

  He held up a basket she hadn’t even noticed he was holding. Lovely, Emmaline. It might have been a dagger and you would be a dead woman.

  “You’re late for our midday meal.”

  “Midday meal?” She sounded like an imbecile, but her mind was sluggish with the heat and, yes, with thoughts of last night.

  He walked toward her and she had an irrational urge to step back, to turn around and run into the trees, but she held her ground, damned if she would let him get to her anymore than he already had.

  Still she searched his face, looking for any sign, any indication their night meant something to him, and saw nothing. Of course what happened probably wasn’t as earth-shattering for him as it’d been for her. More than likely, he’d shared many memorable experiences with many other women.

  The pain of that thought made her want to double over, but she forced herself to remain upright.

  He stopped before her, so close she could reach out and touch his smooth jaw. He’d shaved since last night. An indecent part of her mourned the loss of his stubble. It’d felt good against her bare breasts.

  She averted her gaze, afraid he would read her thoughts in her eyes.

  He shoved a blanket at her and she automatically took it. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  “Surprise?” Oh, stop being such a ninny. You can hold a conversation with the man.

  He smiled, a heartwarming smile that turned her insides to liquid, and before she knew what he was about, he leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. A quick peck, leaving her stunned.

  “Come, Emmaline. Let’s enjoy the afternoon.” He took her hand and she meekly followed.

  He’d kissed her in the middle of the day where anyone could see them!

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace special.”

  “But, I have … I can’t—”

  He stepped in front of her and faced her, placing a finger on her lips. “No questions. Trust me.”

  Her heart thumped. Trust me. Except for Phin and James, she trusted no one.

  His hand fell away and he replaced it with his lips. She stiffened, not expecting such an assault on her senses. But Nicholas was patient and gentle, his lips gently exploring, gently coaxing until she slowly relaxed. She wanted to put her arms around him, to feel the muscles she’d explored so thoroughly the night before, but her inhibitions kicked in. ’Twas entirely different, kissing in the light of day rather than the dark of night. At night she was able to let down her walls. At night it seemed like a different world, where possibilities were endless. During the day she couldn’t shed her reticence as easily. Couldn’t pretend her life was something other than what it was.

  Slowly Nicholas pulled away, took her hand again and led her through the trees. They were traveling deeper into the island, away from the house and the shore where her ships were anchored. She looked over her shoulder, not liking that she was leaving everything comfortable behind her.

  After a few minutes, Nicholas stopped and Emmaline pulled in a breath. “Oh.”

  Before them was a large pool of water, the edges covered in India red water lillies that gave off a pink shimmer in the heat. A cascading waterfall caused the water to ripple and sent a mist to cool her heated skin. A beautiful rainbow danced at the base of the waterfall.

  Towering trees grew in a canopy above them. They were isolated, with no signs of life except for the birds chirping in the trees. How had he known this was the place she went to when things got to be too much? When she needed to escape? ’Twas her favorite place on the entire island.

  Nicholas took the blanket and shook it out over a large, flat rock big enough to hold them both. He placed the basket on top of it and proceeded to take out enough food to feed her entire crew.

  He sat down amidst the food and poured two glasses of wine. Wine in the middle of the day, when she should be directing her crew on the repairs of the ship.

  “Where did you get all of this?” she asked.

  “I bribed Cook.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Impossible.”

  “Oh, very possible.” He patted the spot beside him. “Relax and enjoy our lunch.”

  Hesitantly she made her way to him. What did he want from her? Why was he doing this?

  The cynical part of her couldn’t comprehend that he didn’t want something from her.

  “Stop looking at me as if I’m going to eat you.”

  “Aren’t you?” She sat next to him, but farther than where he’d indicated.

  “Mayhap.” His eyes turned dark and he held her gaze far longer than necessary. Her stomach and various other parts did a slow roll at the implication of his “Mayhap.” She cleared her throat and looked down at the array of food.

  He leaned forward and took her chin in his hand, raising it so that she had no choice but to look at him. “I’m not the enemy here. Not today, anyway. Enjoy the afternoon with me. Just the two of us, Nicholas and Emmaline. Not Captain Addison and Lady Anne.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  He released her chin and sat back. “You did last night.”

  Her cheeks heated and she looked away. “It’s not proper to talk about that.”

  “Since when have you ever been proper?”

  Against her will, she smiled and reached for an island-grown cherry to pop in her mouth.

  Nicholas tipped his wineglass toward her, then drank.

  “How is the careening going?” he asked.

  “It’s finished.” Suddenly finding herself famished, Emmaline reached for a piece of chicken. “We missed you today.”

  When he didn’t show up at the work site, she’d worried he was angry that she’d left his bed, and she was angry that she cared. But all morning, she’d kept an eye out for him, because he always helped with the ships.

  “You missed me, eh?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  Embarrassed she’d revealed too much, she took another bite of chicken and watched the waterfall. “We needed your muscle.”

  “Is that all you needed me for? My muscle?”

  She glanced sharply at him, only to find him studying the chicken, deciding which piece to take.

  “Why did you leave this morning, Emmaline?”

  “I …” How could she tell him he frightened her? How could she admit the emotions she’d felt, when waking scared her more than facing the worst, most deadly pirate? If she wanted to keep any part of herself intact, she couldn’t tell him anything.

  “I had to get to the ships. We’re behind on the repairs.” A blatant lie. They were far ahead of schedule, and Nicholas’s look told her he knew she was lying. And he knew why, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be amused at her fibs.

  They ate in silence, though her thoughts were anything but silent. She should get back to Phin. Surely he was worried about her, and she needed to help with the repairs. There was a particularly nasty hole in the stern of the Delilah. But she found she couldn’t move. She’d eaten her fill—more than her fill—and her eyes grew heavy. While Nicholas packed up the dishes and what was left of the food, she lazed in the heat of the sun, the mist of the waterfall cooling her.

  Something heavy landed in her lap, and when she looked down, Nicholas’s head was resting on her legs, his eyes closed, boots crossed.

  She lifted her hands to push him away, but paused. A stray lock of black hair fell over his forehead and she brushed at it instead, loving the warmth of his skin against her palm, knowing she shouldn’t love it as much as she did. He made a contented sound deep in his throat, much as a cat would after a tasty meal.

  His head was heavy, but she didn’t mind the weight. So much for repairing the ships. What were they doing here? Hadn’t she run from this man for the very same reason she was sitting here? He asked too much of her, things she wasn’t willing to give, like her trust. And her heart.

  She rubbed at the spot above her heart, an irrational need to cry building inside her. She was nothing
but a diversion for him, until he finished his mission and returned to England.

  He should have returned yesterday. So why didn’t he?

  “Relax, Emmaline. Enjoy the day.” He didn’t open his eyes, but squirmed until he was more comfortable. “Talk to me.”

  “About what?” Yesterday morning she’d stumbled across him watching the HMS Challenger as it sailed out of port. She’d been heartbroken that he’d left, and yet determined that it was the best thing for both of them. When she spotted him on the hill, the ship sailing away behind him, her heart had soared. Why did he stay?

  “Talk about anything. I like to hear your voice. It’s beautiful. Has anyone told you that?”

  “My voice is beautiful?” Certainly men had told her she was beautiful, but none said her voice was beautiful. What an odd thing to say, and yet she found herself smiling.

  “You’ve maintained your English accent but there’s a hint of something else. It’s …” His brows came together and she had a nearly irresistible urge to smooth the crease away. “Exotic. Sultry.”

  Sultry? Her voice was sultry? The man was daft.

  “Talk to me,” he said again.

  “Um.” She’d never had to talk upon command, and suddenly found herself without words. “Tell me about your family,” she blurted out, reaching for the only thing that came to mind, besides the one question she wanted to ask: Why did you stay?

  One eye popped open and looked up at her. “That’s not you talking. That’s me talking.”

  She shrugged, tempted to touch his sun-warmed hair again.

  His eye closed and he nestled his head farther into her lap, causing lightning bolts of heat to shoot through her. Was he doing it on purpose?

  “I have an older brother. Sebastian,” he said. “He’s two years older than me and the Earl of Claybrook, as you know.”

  “Tell me about him.” She’d met aristocrats before. Aunt Dorothy mingled with an elite group of friends, but Emmaline had always stayed on the periphery of that crowd, tolerated because she was Dorothy’s niece, but never welcomed, for fear she had hopes of setting her cap on one of their eligible bachelors.

  “Sebastian is loyal to a fault. To his family and to the crown. When I was injured …” His voice trailed off and Emmaline tensed. She’d suspected Nicholas had been injured. After all, she’d seen him reach for his leg a number of times, brackets of pain on either side of his mouth. She witnessed the slight limp, which grew more pronounced after a hard day’s work. Now she knew and she wanted to know more. How? When? Where? Who?

  “When I was injured,” he repeated. “Sebastian refused to believe the doctors, when they told him there was no hope. I owe him everything.”

  No hope? He’d been so terribly injured the doctors had given up hope? Her throat thickened at the thought of Nicholas Addison wounded so grievously. If not for Sebastian, Emmaline wouldn’t be on this rock with Nicholas’s head in her lap. She wanted to thank the man, but knew she would never get the chance. Sebastian Addison, Earl of Claybrook, could never know of her existence. And now, hearing Nicholas’s voice, and the love in it when he spoke of his brother, she knew that whatever they had experienced last night, and what they were experiencing right now, was a moment out of time, never to be repeated.

  “It sounds like you two love each other very much.”

  Nicholas smiled. “He’s a pain in the arse, excuse my language, ma’am. And I’m certain he would say the same about me. But I would do for him exactly as he has done for me. He’s family.”

  He said that as if it were a foregone conclusion that family watched out for one another, when Emmaline knew that was not the case. What Nicholas had with Sebastian was special, and not to be trifled with.

  “Then there’s Claire,” he said, his voice warming even more.

  “Is she Sebastian’s wife?”

  Nicholas laughed. “Hardly. She’s our sister.”

  “Sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Claire is … How to describe her. She would like you. In fact, she would attach herself to you, and refuse to leave until you promised to take her plundering. Claire has always been the curious sort, with the type of curiosity that lands her in trouble every time. Sebastian swears his gray hairs are caused by her.”

  “I like her already.”

  “You two are a lot alike.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eighteen. When I left, she and Sebastian were arguing. Then again, she and Sebastian always argue. She doesn’t like to be stifled by society’s rules. Her word, not mine.” Emmaline laughed. “She sounds wonderful. I would like to meet this Claire.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to snatch them back. An awkward silence followed. If Nicholas’s head hadn’t been in her lap, she would have jumped up and told him she had to meet with Phin, then fled into the trees. Instead she was stuck looking down at him, wishing she was able to meet his brother and sister. Wishing she was the type of woman he could take home to his brother and sister.

  “Maybe someday you will meet her,” he said.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Both eyes opened to look up at her. “Why?”

  “Why? Because you can’t bring me to your family.”

  “I can do whatever I wish.”

  Spoken like a true aristocrat.

  “Tell me about your parents,” she said, in an attempt to divert the path of that conversation.

  She didn’t want to argue with him. Not now. Later she was certain they would take up their prickly arguments again, but for now she wanted to enjoy what little time they had together.

  “I told you most of the story a few days ago. My father died of a fever when I was sixteen, and Sebastian eighteen. My mother died soon after. She also contracted the fever, but I think she simply gave up, unwilling to go on without him.”

  Was it possible to love someone so much you simply couldn’t live without them? Her mother had done the same, but the circumstances were different. Her mother refused to believe she’d been abandoned, and her father never thought twice about them. There was no love there. Obsession, maybe, on her mother’s part, but not love. What would it feel like to know you were loved so thoroughly, and what would it feel like to love that deeply?

  Only half conscious of what she was doing, her hand sought out his hair, and she brushed it back again. She looked down at Nicholas’s closed eyes, at his sun-browned face that she knew so intimately and recalled so accurately when they were apart. Was this love?

  No. She would go on without Nicholas. She had to go on without him, because what they had here wasn’t meant to last. But was it different, knowing Nicholas lived and breathed somewhere on this Earth? What if something happened to him tomorrow?

  Her heart fell to her stomach, and her eyes filled with tears. It would tear her apart to know she would never see him again. Knowing there was no hope …

  She stopped her thoughts. There was no hope for them at all, and to think otherwise would be foolish.

  “Tell me about James Sutherland,” he said, shattering her thoughts. And she was glad of it. She didn’t want to think of never seeing Nicholas again. But neither did she particularly want to discuss James Sutherland. Damn Phin for telling Nicholas about him.

  “He was like a father to me.”

  He looked up at her, the slumber in his eyes replaced by curiosity. “And yet you married him.”

  She looked away, her heart aching as it always did when she thought of James. “He insisted.”

  His hand came up, fingers brushing her cheek. “Tell me about him. I want to know about the man who took you in.”

  She blinked furiously. “He was a privateer who taught me everything I know about sailing. He was a good captain with a big heart.”

  “Privateers are nothing more than pirates with letters of marque giving them authority to attack other ships.”

  She stiffened and her hand dropped from his hair.

  Nicholas touched her hand.
“Relax, Emmaline. I’m not criticizing Sutherland, simply stating facts.”

  “He was a good man,” she repeated forcefully, unwilling to hear anything bad about the man who saved her from a life of servitude in England.

  “I’m sure he was.”

  She searched his face, looking for any sign he was mocking her or James, but there was nothing there and slowly she relaxed.

  “James didn’t know of my plans to ruin Blackwell. If he did, he would have tried to stop me.”

  “I like him already.” Nicholas smiled, but she didn’t smile back. Why it bothered her that Nicholas didn’t approve of her choices, she didn’t know. And she certainly shouldn’t care, but damn her, she did.

  “When it became apparent his health was failing and he didn’t have much time left, he asked me to marry him. I refused, of course.”

  “Of course. Emmaline Sutherland doesn’t take charity from anyone.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Simply stating another fact, Emmaline.”

  “He’d been married before, and loved his wife very much. So much that he never wanted to marry again. But he also didn’t want his estate to fall into the government’s hands, or worse, to an unknown relative.”

  “My guess is he also wanted to ensure you lived as much of an independent life as possible, and his estate was able to afford you that lifestyle.”

  She shrugged, having already guessed the same thing. James Sutherland had been the kind of father she’d always wished for, and he’d treated her well. Her one regret was that he would have hated what she was doing now. He’d wanted her to be independently wealthy, but not alone the rest of her life. He’d talked to her many times during his last days about finding someone to settle down with. Someone who didn’t want her for her wealth, but for her brains. She’d scoffed and told him no such man existed. And she had believed that until she met Nicholas.

  “He sounds like a wonderful man,” Nicholas said softly.

  “He was.” She turned her head and surreptitiously wiped an errant tear. She missed James. He may not have approved of her plans for revenge, but he would have approved of Nicholas, and he would have urged her to pursue Nicholas. Not that she could, but things like that never stopped James, and he would tell her not to let it stop her either.