Silver-Tongued Temptress

by Sara Ackerman

  He rushed to the dim room, the fading light of day doing little to penetrate the shadowy corners, yet her pale face, a stark contrast in the darkened room, was visible.

  Taking the candle from beside the bed, he held it over her to better see her face. The small flame outlined the terrible ravages her illness had taken. A wan, sunken face with dull, pain-raddled eyes stared back at him, and he was hard pressed to find a trace of the Beatrice he had once loved. Her smile, when it came, chased some of the illness away, and he was reminded of the young woman she had been.

  His brows wrinkled, and he cleared his throat. How will she greet me? Their last meeting had been passionate and filled with expectations. His note and craven departure had destroyed those hopes. She might demand an accounting for his actions, and though he dreaded the impending confrontation, he owed her an explanation.

  Yet she smiled and used her meager strength to pat the bed in invitation. He’d wanted to remain aloof, standing in case she regained her sharp tongue and railed at him for his previous shabby treatment. Despite the clenched warning his stomach gave him, he sat on the end of her bed, a cautious distance away from her, and waited.

  “Luka, I am so happy to see you. I was afraid.” Her voice choked, and tears slid on her cheeks.

  “What were you afraid of?” Conscious of her fragile health and tender emotions, he used the voice he reserved for skittish horses and uncooperative mares.

  “I feared you had perished in the accident. When Grandmother told me I was the only survivor, a part of me died, and I wished I had not woken, not if you were gone from this world.”

  Confusion replaced concern. She did not seem angry at him. In fact, she had scooted nearer and rested her head on his shoulder. He had not expected affection or forgiveness, though he had wished for both.

  “Explain to me how my absence would cause you such pain.”

  She cocked her head and frowned, her gaze having gone cloudy. “Don’t you see? I would have died had you also not lived, but you are here, Husband, and I have never been so happy. You have eased my heart and filled it with gladness. We are together again.” Her small arms wrapped about his middle, and she nestled her head on his shoulder.

  Some pieces of this puzzle had gone missing, for he was more confused now than when he had entered the sick room. His grandmother walked into the room, and he pinned her with a hard stare. Demanding answers from her had never worked; Aba revealed what she wished to when it was convenient for her.

  “Aba, is there something I should know?” His command as clan leader, though, was unmistakable, and he would permit no evasion from her today.

  “Had you stopped to listen, I could have told you your wife was confused and scared you had been harmed, but now she sees you are well. She is overwrought from the fright your absence caused her.”

  “But we’re not—”

  Aba cut him off with a firm shake of her head. “See to your wife, and when she sleeps, we’ll talk.” She left the room.

  More confused than ever, Luka was left to comfort a wife he had abandoned years ago.

  Chapter 6

  York, England, April 1800

  “There you are, you stubborn girl,” Luka said, his head popping over the edge of the stable’s hayloft where she had retreated after finding Luka in her father’s front hall. He had been away for four years, and Bea had been ecstatic upon spying him. Luka had been less so and had dismissed her with a raised eyebrow and a cool, formal bow. She had asked him if they could speak after his business had concluded, but he had ignored her and followed the butler to her father’s study.

  She raised her head from the piles of fragrant hay, her secret hiding spot when she wished to be alone. “Go away,” she said, horrified to hear her voice wobble and crack. “I never want to see you again!”

  He ascended the ladder and stood over her, his shoulders and head hunched to avoid contact with the sturdy barn beams.

  “You’ll soon get your wish. After six long years, I have concluded the last of my business with your father and my other English buyers. There is nothing here to keep me, and I no longer have to fear for my life every time I enter the country. The one bright spot of this wretched war is that, with soldiers coming and going, no one pays much attention to one man ferrying horses. Regardless, I leave tomorrow for the Continent and have no plans to ever return. This is goodbye.” He turned to leave, kneeling to better gain a foothold on the ladder.

  “What? No, you can’t leave.”

  “Now you want me? Make up your mind, Tris.”

  “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “What did you expect would happen? You accused me of theft of an expensive animal. I had no other option. It was either extradition or hanging. Neither suited, so we left.”

  “Why didn’t you write?” She grasped his upper arms and forced him to look at her.

  “To say what? ‘Sorry things didn’t end well, but don’t worry. I didn’t take it personally when you slandered my name and accused me of stealing your father’s prized stallion’? Not likely.” He laughed, a short derisive bark. “It was better we cut ties altogether.”

  “Why did you seek me out today?”

  He turned away to avoid looking at her, and hope pounded like a relentless staccato behind her ribs. “You care for me, don’t you?”

  “Beatrice, it’s not as simple as you imagine. It’s been four years, for God’s sake!”

  “I have never stopped loving you,” she said.

  “We were children. What did either of us know about love?”

  “When you left, there was a gaping hole in my chest where you had been. I had lost my best friend and confidant. I nearly expired the month following your departure, but your return was the constant hope which kept grief from consuming me. The summer you left, I went to your campsite every day. For two weeks I waited, rain or shine, before I understood you’d not be returning.”

  “Tris—”

  “With your absence permanent, I told myself I’d never love another. You are the only man for me. What we had was love. Maybe because of our age we were able to recognize it for what it truly was and not pass it off as some other emotion, so don’t sit there and tell me my love was not real because we were children.”

  His forehead rested on hers, and he sighed. “Of course I loved you. How could I not?” Silken heat caressed her cheek, and she looked into his dark eyes, almost obsidian in the dim loft light. “You were funny and fierce and loyal. I lived on your smiles until I saw you again. There was no one else but you.”

  There was no one else but her. Tension coiled in her stomach, but she refused to allow fear to prevent her from knowing. “Four years is a long time. Is there someone now? Have you found another?”

  He groaned and gathered her in his arms, nuzzling his nose against her neck. “God help me, but no. There has been no one but you.” Luka kissed her, a gentle meeting of lips which sent tingles skittering along her spine. She wiggled her arms out of his embrace and wrapped herself around him like clinging ivy on a tree.

  “Take me with you.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You’re the daughter of an earl, and I’m—”

  “You’re Luka, clan chief and the man whom I love.”

  He stood and strode the short distance to the small, dirty window. Leaning his arm against the wall as he looked out, he sighed. “It won’t work. My life has beauty, but there are trials I would not wish upon you.”

  An idea so delicious and wicked as to make her blush from her ears to her toes intruded in their conversation. There might be a way to change his mind after all. She removed her slippers and, with trembling fingers, unbuttoned her dress. “You said it yourself. I’m fierce. Maturation hasn’t altered much of my personality. I will come with you as your wife if you are willing or as your woman if you are not.” In one silent swoop, she pulled the garment over her head and placed it on the hay. Next she unrolled her stockings and put them in a neat pile by her shoes.
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br />   “I will not damage your reputation by sullying your name with illicit behavior.”

  Shimmying out of her chemise, she padded over to him and wrapped her arms about his waist, resting her head on his broad, muscled back.

  “Illicit only if it is not approved by the Church. Make an honest woman of me, Luka, and let us never be parted, from this day hence.”

  He shifted, the powerful twisting of his torso muscles bunching and smoothing as he turned to face her. Steel bands clamped about her waist. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a harsh rasp.

  “I’m making it impossible for you to say no.” She took him by the hand and led him to the makeshift pallet she had constructed from her cast-off clothing. Lying back on the hay, she held out her arms to him, refusing to be embarrassed by how she wished to express her love.

  He swallowed, an audible gulp in the otherwise quiet stable. Shaking his head, he said, “You haven’t changed a bit. You remain the most stubborn, headstrong female of my acquaintance.”

  She ran her bare toes along his calf and thigh. “Marry me, and I can torment you for the rest of your life.” Her hand brushed the tense muscles of his thighs, inching higher and higher until he grabbed her wayward hand and growled.

  He ripped off his jacket and shirt, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. Pulling them to his knees, his boots halted their progression. For several minutes he struggled to rid himself of his footwear. “You’re a menace. An hour in your company and you’ve got me tangled in knots again.”

  Her foot caressed his smooth leather boots. “Leave them on. I find it…stimulating.”

  With a muffled curse, he fell to his knees. She wrapped her legs about his waist and pulled him closer. “Was that a no? Or a yes?”

  In one smooth stroke, he entered her. She arched her back and cried out from mingled pleasure and pain. He moved within her, his strokes hard and powerful. An unfamiliar ache took hold of her, a blooming warmth mingled with a sharp edge of passion. She moved with him, frantic to ease the terrible ache when he surged and stilled within her. He slumped atop her and she purred, stroking his slick black hair and back. Sunlight poured through the small hayloft window and shone off Luka’s bronzed skin. He was beautiful, and he was all hers.

  “It’s a yes. I’ll take you with me on the morrow.”

  Chapter 7

  Herm, Channel Islands, August 1810

  “Take me to Guernsey, boy,” Aba said.

  He whipped his head around and yelped. Aba stood on a platform above the docks.

  “How did you find me?” With Bea’s recovery coming in slow stages, he’d taken to hiding at port during the morning to escape Aba and his wife. Home was intolerable, especially as her head wound and subsequent memory loss had concocted this ridiculous marriage. Yet to her it was as real as the pounding waves outside the window. She adored him, and purred affection any time he was near. His conscience pricked for the deception, but to avoid causing her a more severe mental lapse, he played along and tried to be a dutiful husband.

  A dutiful husband did not plot revenge on his spouse. This realization had soured his mood for days and only worsened when he abandoned his plan for good. Years of plotting had been destroyed by one of Tris’s sweet smiles. He’d have to employ other methods to find the answers he sought.

  “There isn’t much on this island I don’t know. Figured out where you were going weeks ago. You can’t stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been up to mischief for years. As a grown man, you’ve a right to do what you will, but as a clan leader what you had planned for your woman was dishonorable, and you know it, too.”

  “Maybe I did. Nothing has changed. I will find out what I desire, but this time I’ll use gentle persuasion.”

  “You’re going to take advantage of a sick woman who has no memory?” She curled her lip and spit on the dock. “Years of stealing have hardened you and turned you into a reckless, callous man.”

  “I’ve done what was necessary to ensure our family’s safety. Besides, Tris believes we’re married. I’ll be doing nothing more than asserting my rights.”

  “Rights you lied to have? Rights you stole? Your father would roll over in his grave if he were here to see the man you are now.”

  “Father is dead, and it’s because of him I’m in this situation in the first place. I was too young to be chief, but there was no other choice. He’s the one who died and left us. I did my best to carry on.”

  “Do you even consider the danger you place everyone in, should you be captured?”

  “Their safety is my main priority. Why else would I take such risks?”

  “There must have been another option. Stealing is never justified.”

  “We had to eat. You’d have us starve and be grateful for the privilege, but at least I’d have my honor.” He and Aba had argued for years about his method of feeding the clan. She’d never stopped him, though her silence was censure enough. Even now, after having provided so well for his family, she judged him and found him wanting. He ran his fingers through his hair and bit the inside of his cheeks to stop a scream. She willfully misunderstood.

  He missed her approach and flinched when her weathered hand cupped his cheek. “I’d have you remember how you were raised. You are not this man.”

  “Yes, I am, Aba. I’m whatever type of man our people need. I won’t be a thief forever. I’ve told you before you needn’t worry. I’m done with that life.”

  “Your heart is good, Luka, but as long as your intentions are dishonorable, you will remain a man divided.”

  “I’m trying to find my way.”

  “For your sake, I hope you find it soon. Beatrice is recovering and will want to return home. Whether you accompany her is not even your biggest concern. Two countries hunt you, my Wolf. What will you do then? Hide? Or accept responsibility for your actions?”

  His head reeled, the implications of his defection sinking in. “I want to do what is best for me and our family.”

  “What’s best is not always right, and until you see the difference, I can’t stay. Please, take me to Guernsey.”

  Once her mind was decided, there was no dissuading her, so he took her carpetbag and loaded it into the hull before helping his grandmother into the boat. Taking his place at the oars, he stroked, the physical exertion doing much to clear his head. Once clear, he panicked, for in his haste to do his grandmother’s bidding, he’d forgotten his wife.

  “What of Tris? Who is tending her today?”

  “I cast a spell and put her in a deep sleep. She’ll awaken tomorrow morning.”

  His rhythmic stroking faltered. “You’re jesting with me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I am. I asked a village friend to come up around noon to check on her and bring her lunch. She’ll leave dinner on the sideboard for you for when you return.”

  The issue of Tris’s comfort solved, and given Aba’s ornery constitution, he anticipated a quiet journey full of loud, uncomfortable silence. He was right, and with nothing but the measured slapping of oars on water, he had all the time in the world to stew on his grandmother’s reprimands. By the time they arrived in Guernsey, his jaw ached from constant clenching, and a small tic vibrated under his left eye. How soon guilt had turned to anger. All the while Aba had played the injured party, it was he who’d been slandered and abused. He was a man grown as well as a clan leader, and in no way did he need his grandmother’s advice.

  When he had helped his grandmother to shore, he waited for an apology or at least an admission he was somewhat right, but the old woman was ever contrary, and experience had warned him to avoid anything but cautious optimism. He was right to be wary. She turned to walk away, so he stopped her. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

  “I’ve done nothing of which I am ashamed. I leave those recriminations to you. I don’t want to see you again for another couple of months. Fact is, I might winter here, and you
can get me in spring.” She hugged him, a tight embrace which contradicted her harsh words, and walked away. Not once did she look back.

  There was nothing left but to row home.

  ****

  Moonlight glistened off the black water as Luka pulled into port, weary and depressed. He trudged home and hesitated when he reached the cottage, bypassing the comfort of the cozy home in favor of the warm August winds and crashing waves.

  “Maybe the answers I seek are out here,” he said and settled against a large tree. Though he doubted enlightenment was within his grasp this late at night after a full day of rowing, he had nothing but time to try.

  “There you are.”

  “Tris?” He whipped his head around to stare at her labored progress across the beach. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  She shuffled across the sand, careful to navigate around the debris of broken sticks and rocks the waves had brought with it to deposit on the shore. Panting, she sagged onto the ground, avoiding a serious bruising when he grasped her about the waist and pulled her to him.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed. It’s late, and you’re still recovering.”

  Heaven help him, she snuggled closer in his embrace and nuzzled his neck with her nose. “I awoke, and you had not yet returned. Aba said she was leaving but told me you would be home in time for supper. Supper was hours ago, so I came to find you.”

  Even as he steeled himself against the warm temptation of her feminine curves nestled against his body, his arms encircled her waist, and he rested his head on her crown. “I don’t wish you to hurt yourself.” He recognized the truth as he said it. He didn’t want her to injure herself. She was too important to him. When she placed a chaste kiss on his neck and licked where her lips had been, he groaned. Which means I don’t want to hurt her either, so seducing her is not an option. With one dilemma solved, another presented itself. How am I to steer our relationship toward platonic waters when she is convinced we are wed?

  She laughed, a throaty-pitched murmur wrapping him in its heady familiarity. “Impossible. You and Aba watch me like hawks. I can’t get away with anything, even if I wished to.”