by Susan Ward
“You are such an insufferable man at times,” Merry exclaimed in frustration. “I know the worst of you, Varian. I know Morgan. What possible legacy could there be in England you would be reluctant to share with me?” She pushed her curls from her face and hugged her legs with her arms. Laying her cheek on her knees, she was silent for a long time, and then shifted her eyes to his. “The thought of Virginia is pleasing, even tolerable with the thought of being stuck with you.”
Her fast pleasure stung him. Even in his greedy pleasure of this he couldn’t escape the truth he was taking more from her by having this child. Nor could he quiet the voice that had been taunting him for days he had done this deliberately, subconsciously chaining her to him in his fear of losing her. A bastard child was an entirely different fate for her and made the necessity of him absolute. Even now he did not know if his acts in creating this child had been calculated.
Was it fair to burden her this way? He studied her young face, guilt sharply jabbing him. Her youth gave him the likelier advantage of having things his way, and he wondered if Merry even knew the child was not an inescapable destiny.
Was she too young to understand she didn’t have to have his child, that the child wasn’t a decided fate? Was that possibility something she even knew of?
“There is another possibility for you to consider if you don’t want the door locked permanently against you returning to Falmouth to your family someday,” Varian said calmly into her still uncertain gaze. “It is not exactly a decided fate that you have my child. There are things women can do not to have a child. We will reach port within a fortnight. I can make arrangements in London if that is what you decide you want to have me do.”
It took her an agonizingly long time for Merry to attach meaning to his words. The emotions on her face were flashing so rapidly he couldn’t catch any of them. Finally, he didn’t have to.
“How can you be so vile as to even suggest such a thing?” she screamed, at a level surely heard all through the decks. Merry hit him again. This time twice as hard. Again he let her, this time with deep relief, knowing on the other side of his chin would be a twin bruise. “You odious, insufferable man, do you believe me capable of that? Are you such a demon you could suggest to rid us our child before it is born?”
“I never suggested you do it, Little One,” he said on a ragged whisper, taking her in a protective circle of his arms. “I only wanted you aware of the option. Aware, and I am relieved you rejected it. That decision was not one that would have pleased me if that were what you decided, Merry.”
Indignantly, Merry hissed, “I did not reject it. I refuse to consider it.”
Varian lay back on the bed with her in his arms, until she was draped on his chest, her beautiful face above him. “Why not? Why would you not rid yourself of my child and perhaps me after the process? It’s not too late for you to go home, Little One, no matter what you may think will happen because you’ve been with me. It’s not such a sin they would not want you back with them.”
Frustrated, Merry exclaimed, “You are not that easy to get rid of, you insufferable man. If I could rid myself of you I would run to the first ship I could find in Bermuda and begged passage back to Falmouth. I am stuck with you it seems until I tire of you or reason out a way to stop loving you.”
He smoothed the curls from her face and placed the lightest of kisses on her mouth. “I hope you don’t tire of me soon, Merry. I can’t image a time when I will ever tire of you. Just when I think I have seen all your facets, you create a new one. You are going to make a beautiful, but very amusing mother. I love the thought of watching you run through meadows and playing with dirt, making our child smell and touch things. No stuffy attic bedrooms and governesses. Just touch of Merry.”
Varian’s laughter came in such pleasant waves the last of Merry’s temper melted. She made a playful face at him as her soft arms slipped around his neck. She kissed each one of the surely to form bruises. Then on a heavy sigh, half-delighted, half-exasperated, she said, “I don’t even want to imagine what manner of father you will make. Mr. Craven is right. I am a lunatic for wanting to see that.” She kissed his chest and when her face lifted there was a subtle change to her expression. “Why do you want to see that, you insufferable man? I make your existence preposterous at times.”
Brushing the dark curls back from her face, he whispered, “You make me happy. Touch of Merry. Touch of happiness. I want to share every breath of my life with you.”
“Will you still want to watch me run through meadows when I am fat and unsightly and preposterous?” she murmured breathlessly, her lips trailing across his face.
He caught her lips as they sailed passed his mouth. In between lingering touches, he whispered huskily, “You will never be fat. Never be unsightly. You have never been preposterous. You will always be beautiful. I can’t wait to see the beauty of you round with my child.”
Varian eased her back against the pillows and he wanted her with an intensity that was glorious. Merry’s eyes beneath him told she wanted him as well. It seemed right he should touch his lips first on the soft flesh covering their child and he did. His arms around her slim hips, he sent his mouth to explore the smooth surface of her womb.
She arched against his mouth, the slow trek he made across her lower abdomen becoming more insistent. He felt joy, unmistakable joy from her exulted welcome of his kisses there, in the way her hands slipped to gently caress on each side of his face, and in her blissful acceptance of a child between them.
He had not wanted this. He had long since believed himself beyond this need; he could not imagine anything filling him more completely than knowing he was kissing his child nestled in the womb of this miraculous girl. His child. He had never wanted anything more. More than this child. More than Merry. More than the joy he felt at this moment, being with them both.
Later, as Merry slept, Varian moved down to enfold her hips in his arms, to lay his cheek carefully on the soft under curve of her full breasts. Through his bliss-numb senses drifted the ever present worry of Indy.
He was not a man given to surrender to futility, yet a steely coldness crept into his stomach as the truth came to him that he no longer had the luxury of not choosing between Merry and Indy. He wondered if he could live with the sacrifice of the boy.
Merry could not stay on his ship much longer. Once he concluded his business with Rensdale in London they would have to set sail for Virginia at once, leave the ship and by doing so leave the boy. Indy wasn’t ready for life on land. He didn’t believe in the possibility of that. Varian was worried about leaving him just yet, unsure if the lad would go with his new freedom to kill Rensdale. He knew the boy would carry a burden forever if he killed Rensdale.
As much as he wanted the new life nestled in her womb, his child with Merry changed everything. What it changed was the freedom not to let go of Indy.
~~~
Varian was as unabashedly natural about her pregnancy as he was in his lovemaking. At first it had embarrassed her. Merry thought she would die of humiliation those early days, though her condition was a private circumstance between them.
She was used to men who accept the role of impending fatherhood with proper reserve and a certain degree of self-consciousness. Varian was a man of fully expressed sensuality. The child, a natural bond of her to him, became a part of his intimacy and love play.
His hands moved freely in exploration of her slowly changing body. If he felt an impulse to kiss her there, he did. If she tried to revert to modesty in covering herself when she slept, he would not allow it. He wanted to see, to feel, to touch, and he did so with frequency.
Watching him, Merry blushed, wondering if anyone would have thought the world’s most villainous pirate would be so openly enraptured by impending fatherhood. Yet his displays only moved her deeper into her feelings for this man.
He never spoke of their future, was never willing to share his past so she might understand him better, but there was so
mething about such total tenderness that made the absence of those things not matter. His love filled her with contentment for the life she had chosen with him.
Varian was so happy with this child, when logic told her he shouldn’t be. Merry had asked him to explain it to her.
He told her: I have lived so long without hope, Little One, and now you carry it in your young flesh. How could I not be happy?
Merry didn’t understand his words, but he had made love to her so tenderly that night she’d weep afterwards in his arms.
Lying back against Varian’s bed, wrapped only in a towel, freshly bathed and slightly damp, one hand moved in soft patterns against her womb. Her eyes fixed at the vast endless horizon through the windows, and she thought, I am floating through my life and I know not where I am going. I do not care because I love him.
~~~
Varian paused in the doorway, savoring the vision Merry made. She was naked, the towel draped low at her hips, her creamy flesh sparkling still lightly damp. Her tiny fingers delicately stroked her womb. Her beautiful lush breasts were half hidden by her web of dark curls, shimmering against her paleness. Her eyes were closed and every beautiful line of her face rich with animation. Somehow she managed the image of part Venus, part Madonna and part virginal innocent all at once.
There were times when what she stirred in him was so powerful it was frightening. Like it was now. Her thoughts had left traces of worry and sadness on her face, even in this absolutely erotic vision she made.
He closed the door and eased down close to her. Varian kissed her lightly on the lips. He smiled to hide his concern as her wide doe eyes of crystal blue fluttered open to him.
“What troubles you, Little One?” he asked her quietly, brushing wayward curls from her face.
Merry rolled onto her side toward him, bringing the towel into place to cover her. The gesture made him smile more. Her shyness with him seeing her nude was endearingly sweet.
“We will reach port in London tomorrow,” Merry began, softly and cautiously. “I want to leave the ship. Alone. My parents have a home in the city. I don’t know if they are there, but I want to go and see my mother. I want to put her from worry. I want her to know I am alive and well. I will tell her whatever fiction you’ve created so that you may safely make port in London. She will not be ashamed of me for the things I have done. It would only matter to her if I am well and happy. So I wish to go to her, alone, as soon as I can, so she will not worry for me any longer.”
Merry lowered her eyes from him. Varian folded her into his arms, understanding her need, but knowing she hadn’t thought this through. He brushed the curls back from her face, tilting up her chin so she could see his eyes, and said quietly, “Little One, if you go to them they will not let you come back to me.”
Merry was crying before he’d finished. He could feel the wetness dribbling down his chest. Through faltering sobs, her words came, ragged whispers that struck like daggers. “I miss my family so much, but it is worse knowing they are close to me. Close enough that I may see them if I go and knowing that I cannot. Because you are right. My father would stop me. He would hold me there and he would search until he found you. He is a powerful man. A proud man. He would never understand how I could love you since I am his daughter, a reflection of him, and I should know my duty better.”
Holding her shivering body against him, Varian realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Merry. The completeness she brought to his life had made it possible for him to release the last shred of his longing to return to England. He had no desire to return now, but Merry would always have a privately held ache for her home and family. And that ache would carry regret into the future with her, chipping away at her love for him, possibly to the point where she would love him not at all.
Staring at her tear stained face, he knew his future had been predestined from the first moment he’d taken this girl from England into his heart.
Varian brushed away her tears with his thumbs and tilted her face to meet his eyes. “Merry, I want you to tell me who you are. It is ridiculous you won’t. It doesn’t matter what the truth is. I don’t know why you are afraid to tell me. I need to know so that I may get you to see your mother. I cannot manage that without knowing who you are.”
In a stubborn voice Varian knew all too well, Merry said, “It doesn’t matter. Not any longer. I want nothing to change. I don’t wish to go back to Falmouth. I don’t wish to leave you. I don’t wish to bring unhappiness between us. I won’t tell you. Don’t ask me again.”
There was no point in fighting with Merry when she was like this. Varian didn’t bother to. He’d have Camden provide him the answers he needed. Explore if he could even return to England as the man he’d been, if they’d covered his past as Morgan well enough here that it would never surface. If the torture of that old scandal had died down enough so Merry could find some peace living here, and how much danger there was in attempting this lunacy. It was past time to know the name of the girl he wanted to marry.
Kissing the soft slopes of her cheeks, he wondered what Merry’s reaction would be to the truth about him. Would those bluebell eyes look on him differently when she learned of the hideous scandal he’d left behind in London? Would she want him if she realized he was man not so different from the others she had known in Falmouth?
She was such an unpredictable creature at times. Gently born, she had only surrendered to someone who was all the things she shouldn’t want, in a manner that was all the things she didn’t deserve. He couldn’t help but to wonder how much of a part Morgan played in his appeal to her, though she would hotly deny any if he asked her. Or to worry about where she would settle with the truth of who he was and what that would mean to her future. Would she even want him if he shared with her all that?
“Give me your mouth, Little One,” Varian whispered. “I have never been more desperate to make love to you than I am at this moment.”
~~~
Merry rolled over in bed to find an empty space beside her. She struck a match to candle. It did not surprise her to find that Varian gone. His mood had been uncommonly pensive, even during their love-making. Afterward she could feel his thoughts churning deep within him.
Wrapping a quilt around her, she made her way to the open deck above. She found Varian on the quarterdeck leaning against the rail. He was a strangely isolated and lonely looking figure in the slowly lightening blue of pre-sunrise and misty fog, as he stared at London beyond.
Padding barefoot across the deck, she smiled when he turned to her, his eyes registering a flash of surprise. “I did not expect to see you up so early,” he murmured, kissing her curls and easing her body against his chest to warm her.
She could feel his inner-turmoil in his hands and touch even now. She wondered if it was worth making mention of. Instead, she said, “I woke to find you gone. I don’t sleep, not ever, unless you are beside me. I have forgotten how.”
That made him laugh. “I would think when I am beside you is when you are least likely to sleep.”
His palms slid down her belly, caressing gently before resting there. There was only a light guard on deck, but it surprised her when he leaned over to press a kiss on her womb. It was not the type of thing Morgan ever did. There was never a hint of Varian topside.
“How is our child today?” he whispered.
“I think in a better mood than you. I am not sick this morning.” She tilted her head into his kisses on her neck. Then pulling away, she warned, “You can’t divert me so easily, sir. What is troubling you? Why will you not share your worries with me?”
There was silence from him. The sound of flapping from the mast drew her eyes. Above her head the bold colors of Great Britain capered proudly in the wind swirling off the water.
“Someday you are going to explain to me your tricks. How is it that you can make port in London with as little concern as you did in Bermuda?”
“It is not a trick, Merry. No trick at all.” Varian
smiled into her questioning blue eyes and then shrugged. His dark gaze shifted back to the city. “Does it all look differently to you now that you have been away for a year?”
It surprised her, it did look different. Nodding her head, she said, “Yes, it looks smaller and less significant. I will miss it not at all.”
“And will you be happy in Virginia with me?” His whispering voice made her shiver.
So that was what was troubling him; her tears yesterday over her mother. “I am happy with you on this ship.”
She heard him slowly inhale, a troubled sigh she was sure he was unaware of. She leaned into his chest with its familiar warmth, scent and firm angles. She knew for certain she would go with this man and never look back.
On a quiet voice, she said, “I will be happy wherever you take me, Varian, if you are there with me.”
He knew she meant it. Merry’s emotions rose to her eyes with transparency, and her gaze was clear, direct and unwavering.
He held her face between his hands. “You are so beautiful, Little One,” he said, kissing her eyes, her nose, and her mouth. He scooped her up into his arms before she could protest, transparent himself in all this and no longer caring.
Tomorrow he would leave this ship. God willing he would never return. Tomorrow would be the first day of his life as only the man who loved Merry.
~~~
Varian looked up from his desk and realized he had been so deeply in the process of his work, he had been unaware Merry was retching into a washbowl. He could tell she’d been sick for quite some time and somehow he had neither heard nor noticed it. Her face had lost all color, even with the light tint of the sun her skin carried, and she looked limp and haggard.
He crossed the room to her. “I thought you were done with this.” He kissed her lightly on the brow. “I am sorry I didn’t notice. You do it so quietly. Do you want me to get you some tea or maybe something to eat?”
