Proposing first wouldn't even solve the problem. She had already told him even if he did so, she would say no. She was bound and determined to live a society life in England, so it seemed as if there was no compromise to be made. She wanted an Englishman, and he was an American. Despite his title, he could never give her what she needed.
His best bet was to set sail for Boston as soon as possible and forget he had ever met her.
A knock sounded on his door, breaking him from his musings.
"Come," he called.
Tim O'Brien stuck his head in. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but there's a lady here to see you."
Puzzled, Garrett asked, "What lady, Tim?"
The door opened further to reveal a cloaked figure standing beside the mate. The woman took a step into the cabin and drew back her hood.
Lucinda.
Stunned, Garrett rose to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to speak to you."
He could only stare at her. Never had he expected Lucinda Devering to step into his world, yet here she stood, looking like a dream in a pale blue dress with a midnight-blue cloak over it. She wore the delicate pearl earrings and necklace that he had seen her wear many times before, and her curly hair had been temporarily tamed into a sedate coil at the base of her neck.
She looked just as beautiful as if she had stepped out of a London drawing room, but to see her here, surrounded by the wood planking of his ship, with the creaks and groans of the vessel around them, seemed beyond the realm of fantasy.
"Ah...do you want me to take the lady's cloak?" Tim asked from the doorway.
Garrett tore his gaze from Lucinda with difficulty. "No, Tim, that's all right. Please close the door on your way out and see that we're not disturbed."
"Aye, Captain."
The door shut behind the mate with a soft click, leaving them alone together.
Lucinda seemed to be waiting for something. Finally she said, "Would you mind if I removed my cloak?"
He shook his head to clear it, realizing he had been staring at her like a green boy who had never seen a woman before. "Of course. Forgive my rudeness, I'm just so surprised to see you here."
"I am rather surprised to find myself here, but I have a matter of some urgency to discuss." She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and handed it to him. He took it and went to hang it on a hook, marveling at the way her scent mingled with the familiar smells of wood and sea and tar.
"May I offer you some refreshment?" He returned to his desk to show her the bottle of brandy. "This just came in from France."
"No, thank you, Captain," she said with a shake of her head that sent the candlelight dancing through her hair. "I don't indulge in spirits."
He grinned. "I seem to recall you indulging in a bit of sherry late one night."
She blushed adorably. "Yes, well, there were extenuating circumstances."
"Yes, there were," he murmured, and her blush deepened. "May I interest you in something else? I can have Tim bring some tea."
"No, thank you." She folded her hands in front of her and twisted her fingers together. "Do you mind if I sit down?"
He winced at his own foolishness. "Of course not. Please do. I'm sorry." She seated herself in a nearby chair and he sank into his own, taking a big gulp of the brandy as he did so. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"You weren't at dinner this evening," she said.
He raised his brows in amusement. "Did my grandfather send you here to chastise me?"
"Of course not!" She took a deep breath and toyed with the folds of her skirt. "I was just making an observation. Lady Farvendale was very put out with His Grace that you did not arrive."
"Lady Farvendale? Don't tell me that old fool invited Penelope and her grandmother to dinner after I expressly told him I would not marry the girl."
"I'm afraid he did," she confessed. "But take heart, Captain. It seems that Lady Agatha's grandson is interested in pursuing Lady Penelope."
"Knightsbridge? Really? Well, I wish him luck. She never was my type. I wonder what my grandfather was thinking."
"Probably that he wants you to stay in England."
He snorted. "That will never happen."
"I know," she whispered.
An awkward silence fell. Garrett sipped his brandy and watched her, wondering how they had come to this. How had they gone from passionate lovers to polite conversation? The enormity of what he had lost gnawed at him.
"So," he said, realizing too late how harsh his tone sounded. "If you did not come here to chastise me for missing dinner, why are you here? What is this matter of great urgency?"
She bit her lip. "It concerns Meg."
He put down his goblet and focused his complete attention on her. "What's the matter with Meg?"
"Oh, she's in fine health," Lucinda assured him. "It's another matter entirely, and—please forgive me, Captain—but this is rather difficult for me to explain."
He picked up his goblet again. "Difficult how? Difficult as in the story is complicated? Or difficult in that you are embarrassed to tell me?"
"Both," she admitted.
He watched her nibble on her lower lip and tamped back the urge to drag her into his arms. He could hardly believe that she was here, on his ship, unchaperoned, and it was all he could do to remember he was a gentleman.
"We've never had a problem talking to each other, Lucinda," he said quietly.
"I know. But this is a delicate matter, and..." She sighed and met his gaze, her dark eyes serious. "No one else will listen to me, and I am worried about Meg."
He set down his goblet, then reached across to lay his hand over hers where it rested in her lap. "I will listen, Lucinda."
She stared down at their hands for a moment. "Garrett," she said, "you may not want me to have any contact with your sister once I have told you my story."
"I doubt that," he scoffed. "You are her dearest friend, and you are the one person I trust with her safety." He slipped his hand beneath hers and twined their fingers. "Now tell me what's bothering you."
Her fingers tightened around his. "Lord Arndale has been courting your sister."
"Your husband's brother?" At her nod, he said, "I've seen him about. I've never laid eyes on a bigger popinjay. Don't worry, Meg won't have anything to do with him."
"I'm afraid you're wrong there," she said. "I tried to tell Meg what kind of man Malcolm is, but she accused me of wanting him for myself." Her lips twisted in disgust. "As if I have eluded his advances for the past eleven years only to become his wife! Ugh!"
Garrett froze, his fingers tightening around hers. "What do you mean, ‘eluded his advances'?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, I should have started at the beginning."
"Lucinda." Garrett waited until she looked at him. He hated the despair he saw in her lovely brown eyes. "Did he ever hurt you?"
"Not in the way you mean. He's been trying to get me into his bed since before I married his brother, but he's never forced the matter. At least, not physically."
Garrett clenched his jaw at the casual way she described years of unwanted attentions. "Lucinda, why don't you start from the beginning."
She sighed. "When I was eighteen years old, I thought I was in love with Malcolm. My father found us in an embrace and demanded that Malcolm marry me.
"Malcolm's father said my background wasn't impressive enough to wed his heir, but since my father was a man of some political power, the earl offered his younger son in order to hush up the scandal."
"What a bastard!"
Lucinda gave him a secret little smile that tugged at his heart. "I often thought the same thing," she confessed. "But ladies don't say such things."
Then her expression grew serious. "Malcolm never gave up trying to seduce me, even after I was married to his brother," she said. "Knowing what I know of him now, I believe he would have ruined me completely had my father not walked into the co
nservatory just then."
"I don't doubt it," Garrett agreed roughly. "And this is the rotter who's courting my sister? The bounder won't get her anywhere near the altar!"
"Thank you, Garrett," she said, squeezing his hand.
"Lucinda," he said softly, "this was not easy for you to tell me. I know how much your reputation means to you."
She nodded.
He took both her hands in his. "I'm honored that you chose to confide in me."
A single tear slipped down her cheek. "I had no one else to turn to," she whispered.
He stood, tugging her to her feet, and pulled her into his arms. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "It's all right. You can tell me anything, and I'll always love you."
Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with shock. "What did you say?"
"Hell," he muttered as he realized what he had admitted. "I said I'll always love you, though I didn't mean to tell you like that."
"You love me?"
"Yes." He cupped her face in his palms, forcing her to look into his eyes and see the truth. "I love you, Lucinda Devering, spotty past and all."
"Heavens," she whispered. Then she kissed him, and he lost himself in the joy of her touch. Maybe they had a chance, after all.
Chapter 18
Garrett was in love with her! The world suddenly seemed a bright and beautiful place. "God, I've missed you," he murmured, taking control of the kiss and making her head swim. "I've been sitting here dreaming about holding you in my arms again."
"I'm here," she murmured. "I was afraid you would hate me."
He pulled back and stared at her. "Why? Because a young girl fell in love with the wrong man? Do you know how many times Meg thought she was in love with some scalawag or another? Why, when she was fourteen, she declared herself in love with Tim, and he left for the Indies until she came to her senses."
"An Englishman would think me disgraced," she said, caressing his shoulder.
"Then it's a good thing I'm no Englishman." His smile turned wicked, and the hungry gleam in his eyes made her knees weak. "I want you, Lucinda," he whispered. "Come to bed with me."
Her heart pounded and her blood bubbled like hot molasses in her veins. She hesitated, unsure of their future. But then he raised her palm to his mouth and gently bit the pad of her thumb, and common sense dissolved into absolute passion.
He loved her. Somehow they could make it work.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, cupping her face in his hands once more. His kiss was feather soft, and he nibbled gently at her lips, melting her insides like hot candle wax. "Come to bed, Lucinda."
She gave a breathy moan of assent.
He unfastened the many buttons of her dress as she tugged open his shirt and nuzzled her nose into the dark hair sprinkling his chest. He attempted to slip the gown down her arms, but she had managed to completely open his shirt, and when she pressed her mouth to one of his nipples, he hissed in response, his head falling back and his hands clenching on her gown.
She continued to tease his nipple with her lips and tongue until he pulled her mouth to his, kissing her deeply and slipping his tongue into her mouth.
She moaned and arched against him, twining her arms around his neck until the kiss gentled, and he cupped her face tenderly in his palm.
His gentleness undid her. She could do nothing but cling to him as her dress pooled around her feet, and he caressed her bottom through the thin material of her chemise, nibbling at her lips until she longed for him to take her.
"Garrett," she whispered against his mouth.
He slid a hand beneath her thigh, tugging her leg up over his hip as he worried her lower lip gently between his teeth. She could feel him, hard and ready, through his breeches, but he took his time as if she were a fine liquor to be savored.
"What are you doing to me?" she murmured, lost in sensation.
"Loving you," he whispered, tugging down the strap of her chemise and placing a kiss on her shoulder. "I want to spend all night loving you."
Somehow, they made it to his bed.
Garrett fell backward, taking her with him so she sprawled atop him, and her chemise flipped up, baring her bottom to the cool air. She squealed and tried to tug the flimsy undergarment back into place, but he stopped her with a hand on her bare flesh, caressing her until she forgot everything but his touch.
"I need you," he groaned, slipping a hand between her thighs. His mouth found one of her nipples through the thin chemise and sucked strongly, his fingers stroking her slick folds.
She whimpered and let her head fall forward. She'd already lost some hairpins, so she tugged the rest of them out, letting the toffee-colored, curling mass fall down around them.
He made a sound of approval and tangled his other hand in her hair, bringing her face to his for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His clever fingers continued playing between her thighs until she thought she would go mad. Hungry, she pressed the flat of her hand to the front of his breeches.
He groaned, breaking the kiss and letting his head fall back against the mattress as she explored him through the fabric of his clothing.
How she had missed this, the beauty of his body and the sheer pleasure of his hungry response. How could she have thought even for a moment that she could forget about what they had together, turn her back on such rare passion in favor of a tepid marriage to Sir James?
Garrett was the only man she wanted, the only man she would ever want.
She straddled him, dodging his questing fingers when he sought the dampness between her thighs again. She grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands to the bed on either side of his head, holding him there, though she knew he could easily break her grip if he wanted to.
They stayed that way for a long moment, breathing hard, eyes locked in silent combat as her hair fell in a silken curtain around them.
"Let me love you," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly.
The strap of her chemise drooped over her shoulder, and he grabbed it between his teeth and tugged. "Take this off," he said, letting the material slip from between his lips. "And then take me—if you dare."
His soft command sent ripples of need through her.
"I dare," she breathed, releasing him to trail both hands down his chest. When he shuddered, she smiled with feminine victory.
He reached for her, pulling off the chemise and tossing it to the floor. He hooked a finger around her pearl necklace. "And don't you look the proper lady with your pretty pearls?"
He released the necklace to trail his hand down her body, brushing his fingers against her breast and along the curve of her hip. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Everyone knows a lady is never without her pearls," she gasped.
"And you're very much a lady, aren't you?" he cupped both her breasts in his hands, looking at her body as boldly as you please. She arched into his touch, moaning as he fondled her soft flesh until her nipples hardened.
"Do you want me?" he asked.
She nodded, caught up in sensation.
"What do you want?" he coaxed.
"I want... you inside me," she breathed, meeting his eyes with no hesitation.
He gave her that pirate's grin. "And I want to be inside you, my love. Very much. Now why don't you be a proper lady and ask me nicely?"
She raised a brow at him. "Why don't you ask me nicely?"
Before she could blink, she found herself flat on her back beneath him. He slid his thigh between her legs and nudged them apart, pressing against that part of her that ached for him. "Ask nicely," he commanded.
"Garrett . . ." she pleaded.
"Ask nicely," he repeated, bending his head to tease one peaked nipple. She whimpered and arched her back, offering herself to his mouth, but he pulled back, the devil. Obviously, he would not continue until he had what he wanted.
"I want you," she whispered finally, cupping his cheek.
Her head spun as he bent his head to her breasts, and she clung to him with
limbs that had grown heavy with arousal. Somehow he removed the rest of his clothing without taking his mouth from her. At some point she felt him, hard and hot against her thigh. Finally he slipped inside her, that first, hungry thrust that never failed to steal the breath from her lungs.
She clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he surged heavily inside her. This was what it should be like, a sharing of souls as well as bodies. An expression of emotion that could not be demonstrated any other way.
He met her gaze, blue eyes intent, completely and utterly focused on her. It was all she needed to lose herself. She let go, her body singing with release, as he murmured soft words of encouragement in her ear.
"I love you," he whispered, and the world spun away.
* * *
Afterward Lucinda lay content in Garrett's arms, the beat of his heart a reassurance against her skin. A glow of happiness suffused her, an emotion she had not felt in a long while.
A miracle had happened—Garrett loved her. The future held more possibilities now. He knew she would settle for nothing less than marriage, so he must be planning on doing so. Perhaps that meant that he was finally ready to forget the past and mend things with his grandfather. He would take on his title, and they would be married.
But what if the duke objected? What if he felt she wasn't good enough for Garrett? Worried, she cuddled closer to Garrett and stroked her hand over his bare chest. He covered her hand with his and twined their fingers together over his heart.
She relaxed. Garrett would not let the duke come between them.
A knock sounded on the door.
Garrett sat up in bed. "I told them we weren't to be disturbed. Blast it." He threw back the covers and grabbed his breeches. Lucinda couldn't take her eyes off his lean, muscular form as he yanked on the garment and stalked to the door, fastening his breeches as he went.
"What is it?" he barked, jerking the door open partway.
A Necessary Husband Page 19
