He couldn’t hurt her…he’d known that even as she submitted to him in the maze and offered him her body, heart and soul. He’d known he could never accept her without her being his wife. He’d realized in that startling instant, something he should have known all along. The children were not responsible for the sins of their parents.
He had returned to the High Seas as a man for hire so to speak, and had given his official contacts back in England notice that should they ever need him for any sort of mission, he would serve them as he had done during the war.
He’d taken upon himself to intercept all of Woodward’s ships, and take what they were hauling for himself. He’d killed many a slave trader, and freed many slaves as a result. Slowly, he was rebuilding the fortune that his father had gambled away, but having Elizabeth and her fortunes would help him immensely, it would restore his family to the grand life they had once lived, and take away all of his mother’s sorrows and worries.
His legacy would be secure then. He would never have to worry about handing down to his heirs, the agony of an empty title.
When he’d met Ethan in a pub in London, the man had given him the same counsel he’d already given himself. He advised him against seeking retribution against Woodward directly. He advised him that Elizabeth was still the best way, but that they had to go about it in a different manner…they had to take her away from her son of a bitch of a father, and make her Mallory’s wedded wife.
He was happy that he’d decided against ruining Elizabeth. Besides, ruining her and leaving her, was not in his nature as a gentleman. On the other hand, ruining and marrying her, was in his nature. He knew deep in his heart, he needn’t feel so guilty, yet why did he?
He would never mistreat Elizabeth. And it wasn’t as if he were the only one gaining through their alliance. She would be gaining a title, and the respect of many. Why the St. Martin’s held a place at the Royal Court for centuries. They were a politically savvy family, and had made it through years of turbulence and change, without having to sacrifice too much. His father’s forebears had possessed a keen intellect, and way of maneuvering through turbulent times that Morgan St. Martin had obviously lacked.
If Woodward thought that he could destroy such a legacy with his petty attempts to strike back at him, then he was sorely mistaken.
He stared over at Elizabeth, eagerly awaiting him. He wanted to cover her body with his mouth, and take her to the peak of ecstasy. He felt himself readying for the seduction, and yet, his mind battled against his body.
The storm outside had died down, and the ship was now nearly calm in the water. But as the storm had gradually faded away outside, it had begun to burn fiercely inside.
He undid the first few buttons on his shirt, and sat down on the bed so that his body pressed up against hers. He frowned, when he noticed the trust shimmering in her eyes. Swallowing thickly, he reached for one of her hands. She sat up, and he finally noticed the signs of exhaustion that lined her features.
He brought her hand up, and gently kissed it. Unwilling to release it, he clasped it even tighter. He could not make love to her this night. Why, she seemed quite fagged. When he finally claimed her as his own, he wanted her wide awake, and fully aware of everything that passed between them.
As if she could sense his thoughts, her eyes flared with something resembling anger. Impulsively, he pulled her to him, and held her against his chest. He had to confess and tell her everything. She grew limp in his arms, and snuggled in even deeper.
Trustingly, she wrapped herself around him. A few minutes passed in complete silence, while he gently caressed her back. Moving his hands upward, he removed the pins from her hair. He was not prepared for the shining glory that cascaded down her back.
Her hair felt like silk, and weighed like velvet. Its sheen nearly took his breath away. He tenderly stroked his fingers through the mass of loose curls. They weren’t ringlets, and yet there was no doubting that her hair was curly.
He heard a faint moan and lost himself in the tranquil moment. For here and now, his world was tilting toward perfection. He would marry Elizabeth. Now, more than ever, there was no doubt in his mind. And even if he found out tomorrow that she was as penniless as he, he would still vie for her hand. She was the greatest treasure of all. He smiled when he heard her even breathing. At least she was not angered with him, or frightened of him.
He kissed the crown of her head, and then exerted all of his self-control, to keep from moving downward. Oh, how he wanted to spend the night with her, not remaining, would be the hardest battle he claimed victory over.
He pulled away from her, and cradled her in his arms. Intent on pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth, he was surprised at the strength of his resolve, to leave her in peace. He gazed down at her, and smiled wistfully.
She had succumbed to dreamland. And he could only pray that she dreamt of him, for one day soon, he would be the only man she would ever think of.
*****
Elizabeth drifted toward paradise. She reached out, straining her fingertips toward the man that was dressed as a Fairy Prince. Another dancer collided with her, and sent her hurtling into the crowd that lined the dance floor. She could not find him. He was lost in amongst the faces that now seemed to blur together.
Hot tears streamed down her face, and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her gloved hand. She tried to step forward, and slammed into a hard man’s body. She bounced off him, and nearly fell to her backside, when he stretched out a steadying hand. The man now wore a Pirate’s costume. Her breath caught in her throat, as her eyes roamed up his body.
His tight black breeches clung to his muscular legs. A bright red sash was tied at his waist, and he was wearing a loose silk white shirt. He wore no cravat, for such restrictions would seem out of place for such a wild and free spirit.
But as her eyes brushed against his face, she felt her blood run cold. He was none other than her own Rafe Morgan. His blue eyes sparkled merrily, and the chandelier above them, glowed down upon him, creating a mystifying halo around his sun kissed crown.
He was no angel. He was her kidnapper. He could not be trusted, no matter how much her heart might be inclined to do so. She stepped away from him, but felt his fingers dig into her flesh.
“Release me!” she cried, struggling wildly against him. But it was of no use, his strength was considerable, and deep down, she found she didn’t even want to escape. She stood transfixed, as he guided her closer to him. Then he leaned down, and swooped upon her mouth. His lips consumed hers, and she tasted heaven in his kiss.
Her eyes flew open, and she stared wildly around her cabin onboard The Valiant. Her limbs were sore from the odd position in which she had been lying. She let out a horrified gasp, when she realized whose broadly muscled chest she was cuddled up against.
Her eyes dropped down to her clothing, and she breathed out a small breath of relief when she found that she still wore her traveling dress from the day before. She wet her dry lips, and tried to imagine being back at Her Ladyship’s Kindness immersed in her canopied bed, snuggled beneath the gloriously soft bedclothes. But of course, before she would have fallen into bed, she would have had a luxurious hot bath scented with lavender.
She moaned, when Rafe’s hand slipped, to fall over her one heaving breast. She nipped down on her lower lip, and held her breath to keep from making any noise or movement. She was stiff from being in such a state, and she desperately wanted to stretch. She didn’t feel as if she were in danger, but she didn’t know how he would react, if he awoke to find her so near to him, and therefore so accessible.
He murmured in his sleep, as he glided toward the waking world. She could not hold the large breath that she had sucked in much longer. She let out the captured breath, and ruffled the wavy blond hair that curled around his face. Oh, how she wanted to bury her hands in his hair, and drop her lips to his forehead.
Shocked by her wildly wanton thoughts, she gasped, when she felt him move. He r
emoved his arm from around her waist, and reached up to brush his hair off his forehead. His face scrunched into a frown, and his eyelids opened.
“Good morning,” he drawled lazily, slanting his mouth into an amiable grin.
She didn’t know what to do. He was even handsomer in the morning than he had been the night before.
“Good…good morning,” she stammered, finally recognizing the heat of his body pressed against hers.
Her dress was nearly sheer, and her nipples were painfully taut against the thin muslin. The pelisse served more than just an article to keep her warm. Why hadn’t she worn a more substantial outfit, especially since it had been for traveling?
He moved again, and created even more friction against her. She tried swallowing past the large chestnut sized lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. She wanted to slide away from him, but he still had his one arm holding her against him.
He leaned down toward her, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She slanted her mouth to meet his, and his lips smacked against hers. Seemingly startled, he broke the kiss before it could even begin.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” The question spilled out of her mouth before she could even help herself.
“Because a true gentleman never kisses anyone but his wife.”
His cruel rebuttal stung her, and was in complete contradiction to the way that he had behaved the day before.
“And here I believed that you had full intentions of ruining me, and then forcing me to marry you.”
“A man does not need to kiss a woman, in order to ruin her.” He gave her a wicked grin, and made a tingling shiver race up and down her spine.
“You are a despicable scoundrel. You’re no better than a blackguard!”
His eyes glowed to a deeper blue, and his nostrils flared, while the one muscle in his cheek twitched. His one hand moved lower to lift the hem of her dress that was tangled around her legs. He swept his hand up to rest on her bare upper thigh. She snagged her bottom lip, as his gentle touch sent a delicious thrill through her.
Her bosom swelled with indignation, and she struggled to free one arm. Uselessly, she tried to slap his wandering hand away.
“Stop that!” she snapped out, making his hand freeze in mid-motion. For one brief second, she could have sworn that she noticed a mischievous glint enter his eyes. The glint gradually faded, to be replaced by a sobering gaze.
“Of course. You are not ready yet. I shall not make love to you, unless you are begging me to. And, my dear, it shall not take me long to urge you to that point.” Smug satisfaction glinted in his dancing eyes.
“Keep dreaming, sir.” She tried to move her hand, and cursed indelicately when her hand slipped, and swerved down to lightly brush against the private place between his legs.
Rafe stiffened, and she smiled, watching as his face gradually became mottled with colour.
“You, miss, are treading a very thin line. If you do not take care, I will have you here and now in this bed. I assure you, that I will not need much more convincing!” As it was, neither would she.
Feeling the maddened energy boiling within her, she pushed against him with all her might, and sent him rolling off the bed.
He hit the floor with a grand thud, and the ensuing silence was so still, that she found herself edging to the side of the bed to peer over. In one fell swoop, he sat, up, reached for her, and pulled her to down to straddle him. His deep rumbling laughter filled the cabin, and she couldn’t help but smile in return.
She swallowed again, and felt her heart skip a beat. As it was, Rafe did not make idle threats, for she could feel the burgeoning evidence of his desire straining against her. His eyes danced, and he was just about to run his hand up the back of her dress, when a loud urgent rapping was heard at the door.
“Captain, we have a bit of a situation brewing up on deck.” She didn’t recognize the young man’s voice, though she could tell by the sound of his voice that he couldn’t be much over twenty.
“Aye, Mister Roberts,” he muttered, frustration lining his face. “I was about to have a merry situation going on down here as well.” He dropped his voice so that only she could hear him.
“How do they know that you are in here with me?” she hissed, slapping him soundly against the chest. He grunted, and then pushed her off of him so he could sit up.
“My men always endeavor to keep abreast of the situations pertaining to me. If possible, I shall order a bath be drawn for you later on. Right now, I’d suggest changing into a clean dress. It might serve to freshen you up a bit.”
“Are you insinuating that I do not have a pleasing scent about myself?” her voice filled with anger, and she watched with delight as it grated against him.
“I, miss, would do nothing of the sort. You smell like a delicate flower.” He looked down at his own disheveled appearance, and groaned. “Come to think of it, I believe I may be in need of fresh attire myself.” He gave her that familiar wink of his, smiled, and strode from the cabin.
Sighing, she stared down at herself, and over at the cold washbasin of water, that sat on her dressing table. Shrugging her shoulders, she stripped out of her dress, and walked toward the water.
Soon, she’d be awake whether she liked it or not. As she trickled the cool water over herself, her mind drifted to the way that his hands had felt on her body. Shivering, she patted herself dry, and walked quickly toward her trunk of clothing.
Whipping the lid open, she searched for something suitable to wear. Crooking her mouth into a secret smile, she shook out the strange outfit that she had designed and sewn for herself. She slipped it on in no time at all, and quickly plaited her hair. She turned in front of the small full-length mirror, and sighed. Finding her secret stash of hard boiled sweets, she reached for a peppermint candy and popped it into her mouth. At least her breath would smell a bit nicer now.
When Rafe saw her, he’d be stunned beyond belief.
Chapter Six
Mallory moved with the gentle swaying of The Valiant. He came up beside Ethan and Nigel, and stared out at the ocean.
“We’re being followed, Rafe,” Ethan said, darting a cautionary glance at Mallory.
“Hells Bells!” he muttered, clasping his hands behind his back. “Any thought of which enemy it might be?”
“Not a clue as of yet. They are still too far behind us for us to see their flag.”
Mallory reached for the spyglass, and took it when Ethan handed it to him. He placed it up to his one eye, and looked down toward the stern. He strained his eyesight, wishing that he could make out the flag that billowed in the breeze. He would have to keep an eye on them, for the ship was quickly closing the distance that lay between them.
“Signal to The Red Dawn and the other ships. We’ll need to keep them a distance. I shall not give Elizabeth back to her father.”
“We still have quite a journey ahead of us, and we still haven’t been able to ascertain how many other ships could be traveling with them.”
“Aye, I know, Ethan. But we fight if need be, we don’t give up Elizabeth for anything.”
“I know Geoffrey Woodward, Rafe,” Ethan barked. “In his own distorted way of thinking, he believes that Elizabeth belongs to him, and I honestly don’t think he treats her the way he treats others. He loves her in his own, selfishly misguided way. And he won’t let you of all people have her. She is his, as far as he’s concerned.”
“Not anymore,” Mallory argued, through clenched teeth. “She belongs to me now. Keep a keen eye out, I’m going to go down to my cabin and arm myself. Make sure that everyone else is ready for battle.”
“Aye, aye Captain,” Ethan said, saluting and smirking at him.
Mallory rolled his eyes, and moseyed back down to the cabins. He pressed an inquiring ear to the side of his cabin wall, and was dismayed when he heard no movement inside of Elizabeth’s cabin. Frowning, he buckled his British Naval cutlass to his hip, and reached for his pistols.
He was j
ust about to knock on the outside of her cabin door, when Seamus emerged from the galley carrying a tray laden with food.
“That galley isn’t what I’m exactly used to, but I made use of it. I thought you might be hungry, sir,” Seamus chirped.
Mallory rolled his eyes and reached hungrily for two sticky cross buns, and a cup of tea with lemon. “Thank you, Seamus. As always, you know what my stomach wants.” He smiled at the Irishman, as Seamus darted his eyes wearily toward Elizabeth’s door.
“Do you suppose it would be safe, sir, if I were to knock on the door?” For a rugged seafaring man who touted many scars of battle, Seamus almost seemed afraid of encountering Elizabeth.
“I think that she will be very delighted when she sees that you come bearing food.” Mallory grinned, reached for a cloth napkin, and walked up the steps to the deck.
He could see that Ethan was keeping a furtive eye trained on the horizon. Just as he licked down the rest of the buns and swallowed the last sip of tea, he heard Ethan’s outraged curse.
“Those aren’t Woodward’s ships,” Ethan muttered, staring through the spyglass while pointing in the offensive direction. “They belong to that bloody Spaniard, Antonio.”
“Damnation!” Mallory cursed, wiping his sticky fingers. “What the hell is that infernal daogo doing is these waters?”
“Well, hell, I’ll take a stab at this one,” Ethan began, groaning. “Perhaps, he’s looking for you. He really doesn’t like you, sir.”
Mallory grunted, and nodded his agreement. “As always, Ethan, you are most assuredly correct.”
Sometimes, it just didn’t pay to be in the business of looting and pillaging.
*****
Elizabeth’s heart quickened, at the loud rapping on her door. Why was someone knocking when she was locked in? Unless…squaring her shoulders, and sticking out her chest, she proudly walked to the door.
His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) Page 6
