And beautiful beyond belief.
Chapter Thirteen
“Would anyone like to go for a sail in the Sea Witch?” Morgan strolled into Jeremy’s bedchamber, where Lalia was helping choose the boy’s clothes for the day, and casually tossed this grenade. The predictable explosion followed immediately on its heels.
“The cutter? Yes, Uncle Morgan, yes, yes, yes!” Jeremy bounced wildly around the room.
“One of your ships? Here?” Lalia stopped in her task to gaze at him. That was possibly a mistake. The heat smouldering in his eyes transferred itself to her and crept up her neck to her face. She drew a quick breath.
“Yes, yes. The cutter. Hooray!” Jeremy bounced onto the bed.
Pulling her gaze away from Morgan’s, Lalia shook an admonishing finger. “Jeremy! Calm yourself. That is enough.”
“Yes. The cutter. Yes.” The chant subsided to a whisper, the bounce to a bob.
Morgan laughed. “More than enough. Leave off, Jeremy.”
Peace restored, Lalia looked questioningly at his lordship. “I thought it unlawful for private citizens to own a cutter.”
“Not if one has a license from the Admiralty, but since I do not wish to become the object of hatred in this vicinity, I’ve chosen another path. This craft varies from the definition of a cutter in a few minor points, thus scraping by the law.” Morgan smiled wryly. “But she is as fast, or faster than anything of her size on this coast.”
“You are going to hunt the pirates.” Lalia’s heart dropped into her stomach. Pirate hunting was a dangerous business.
“Yes.” The hot green gaze focused on her again. “They should not have attacked my people.”
Lalia looked at him solemnly for a moment. The thought of him in danger frightened her so much that the very intensity of the feeling frightened her even more. She mustn’t let him become so important to her. The feelings between them could be no more than temporary. She must remember that.
She licked dry lips. “I—I suppose you must.”
Morgan almost extended his hand to touch her face, then, apparently remembering Jeremy, withdrew it. “I am not without experience, Lalia. Why do you think I own a cutter? Do not be worried about me.”
“Do you think it safe to take Jeremy…?”
“She mounts fourteen guns, Lalia.”
“I see.” Fourteen cannon. A fighting ship.
“Are you going to fight the pirates, Uncle Morgan?” Jeremy bounded around the bed, energetically slashing at imaginary foes with an equally imaginary cutlass.
“If I have to. More likely I will assist the Preventive Service. They get paid for doing it.”
Lalia was not deceived. That answer had been designed to discourage Jeremy’s more daring fantasies and to calm her fears. From the look on the boy’s face, it had done neither. But what could she say? She had no right to restrict his lordship’s actions. She was only…what? The governess? Nursemaid? His lover? Or…? She winced at some other possible designations that came to mind.
What had she done?
Not prepared to sort out the ramifications of the new status of their relationship or the probable consequences of her actions last night, she took refuge in flight. “My lord, will you help Jeremy dress while I change my own gown?”
She hastily closed the door, leaving him to gaze after her with hungry eyes.
Morgan pulled the curricle up at the pier in the village harbor. James jumped down from his perch behind to take charge of the horses while his lordship lifted Jeremy and Lalia down. The Sea Witch stood at anchor some distance out, her dinghy awaiting passengers beside the dock.
Morgan turned to his retainer. “James, would you like to accompany us? We can leave the horses at the inn.”
“Nay, my lord.” The older man shook his head emphatically. “I ain’t much of one for the water. Never took to fishing. Give me my horses and dry land any day.”
“Very well.” Morgan laughed. “We’ll be gone quite a while though, so make yourself comfortable.”
Lalia held tightly to her charge’s hand. She had her own doubts about this expedition. How they were to keep the energetic Jeremy contained aboard ship was a subject she didn’t even want to consider. Already he was wild with excitement. Presumably, his uncle had a stratagem in mind. She hoped.
His uncle’s plan proved to be simplicity itself. The end of a stout piece of rope tied around his nephew’s waist was secured to the mast. The rope was long enough to allow him to approach the rail, but not to fall into the water.
“A trick I learned from my father’s captains when I was Jeremy’s age.” Morgan grinned at Lalia. “It will also keep him out of the upper rigging.” He took her arm in a firm grip. “I will personally see that you do not go over the side.” In the warmth of his eyes on her, the sun’s rays paled in comparison.
Lalia flushed. How was she to maintain her composure before thirty sailors with Morgan so near, touching her, his scent washing around her? She tried to step away a little, but he playfully pulled her nearer.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” His voice was pitched for her ears only, husky, caressing. “I want you as close to me as I can have you. You may pretend to be afraid of the water if you need an excuse.”
“That requires only a little pretense.” She smiled up at him and gave up trying to escape. “I have not been on a ship since my father died, and the idea of really deep water has always unnerved me a bit. I love watching the sea, or wading in the tidal pools, but… Of course, I never admitted that to Papa, because a sail aboard his yacht was such a treat.”
“I don’t suppose you can swim?”
“Only a little. Papa thought it would make me safer, living so near the sea, but there is very little opportunity for young ladies to swim. My grandmother nearly had a fit at the very thought.”
“So you see…I must hold you close to provide for your safety.”
It occurred to Lalia that anyone seeing the expression on her guardian’s face would know his true motives in an instant. She decided to bask in the heat and enjoy it.
“Where are we going today?”
“I just want to sail along the coast for a little distance to reacquaint myself with how it lies. I have not sailed here for nearly twenty years.”
“I doubt that is something you would forget.”
“No, but precise knowledge often makes the difference between life and death. I want to be sure.”
Chilling thought. Lalia thrust that one away and watched as one breathtaking expanse after another of gray cliff hung with moss and fern swept by them. Gulls swooped and dived as they passed, but whirled away when no food fell from the craft. The cutter sliced the waves easily, throwing a fine spray over Lalia and Morgan where they stood in the bow. Drops of water beaded his dark curls, his face now strangely content, his gaze focused on something only he could see.
“Look.” He pointed at the headland just ahead of them. “Those are the Merdinn towers. Soon we will be able to see them clearly.”
As they approached, Lalia spied figures on the cliff top just short of the castle. A Gypsy caravan camped there, and gayly dressed figures waved a greeting. Lalia waved back. “That reminds me, my lord. Daj told me to tell you that the only reason your horses were not stolen last night is that my uncles intervened.”
“Your uncles?” Morgan gave her a startled look. “You have Gypsy uncles?”
“Yes, of course. They are my grandmother’s sons.”
“I—I suppose I have only thought of you as English—in spite of making love to you in your Gypsy bower.”
“Shh! Someone will hear you.” Lalia glanced around furtively, and Morgan grinned. “The Roma also consider me English, but they still respect and include my grandmother, and they are kind to me.”
“In any case, I must send your uncles my thanks.” He winked wickedly. “I shudder to think of our being required to walk home last night—that would have been a very disappointing end to a promising evening. But I’ll take t
his as a lesson in vanity. I had assumed that my position in this area kept my property safe. In the future…”
A squeal from the far side of the deck caused them both to turn. Lalia beheld Jeremy’s rope stretched to its full length and disappearing over the port rail. Both of them dashed across the deck, but one of the crew was before them.
“I’ve got him, me lord.” He hauled on the rope and a slightly damp Jeremy appeared. Morgan grasped the boy and lifted him over the rail.
“Oh, Jeremy! Are you all right?” Lalia knelt beside the boy and gathered him into her arms, her heart pounding with fright. “You are all wet. Did you go into the water?”
“The rope was not long enough for that. Only the spray wet him.” Morgan’s hand closed over her shoulder, squeezed and guided her back a bit. His unspoken message was clear. Don’t fuss over him. Lalia got to her feet.
“The purpose of the rope, Jeremy, is to allow you to learn from experience safely.” Morgan considered his nephew sternly. “I expect you to take the lesson.”
“Yes, Uncle Morgan, I will.” Jeremy looked up at them ruefully. “I lost my shoe.”
Morgan shook his head and sighed.
They spent a remarkably commonplace evening. No observer would have suspected from their careful demeanor that they were new lovers—much to Lalia’s relief. They even took tea together in the newly refurbished drawing room, talking of swimming lessons for Jeremy and his need for new footwear. The lost shoe made two pair ruined within a few days. They sounded like an old married couple, Lalia thought. Like parents.
Another moment to treasure for lonelier times.
She wasn’t at all sure what would happen next. It was possible that his lordship, having attained his goal, would be satisfied. But he hadn’t sounded that way this afternoon. Uncertain as to how to proceed, she excused herself and went to her room alone. While she was brushing her hair, a light tap sounded on the connecting door.
She opened it to find him standing there, bare-chested, boots discarded. “Would you like to have a glass of wine with me?”
Lalia nodded, and he stepped back, ushering her into his bedchamber. Two glasses and a decanter rested on the table that stood beside the large chair near the hearth. She would have taken the other chair, but Morgan stopped her with a hand on her arm.
He sat and drew her into his lap. “I don’t want you that far away from me tonight.” He poured the sherry and handed her a glass. His free hand stroked her hair. “There are some things we must discuss.”
Lalia’s stomached tightened. She had no idea what “things” he might find it needful to say. She nodded again without answering.
“Actually, there are many things we must discuss eventually, but most of them are better kept for later.” He sipped his wine, then looked directly at her. “Do you know any ways of preventing conception?”
Lalia shrugged. “Only what Daj has told me—that a couple should make love only in the light with their eyes open—and never look away from one another.”
His lordship raised one eyebrow. “Hmm. That sounds like a very weak reed on which to lean. Did you keep your eyes open?”
Lalia smiled. “You know I did not.”
“Yes, I know.” He placed a light kiss on her cheek. His voice close to her ear grew rough. “You are breathtakingly lovely in your passion. I would not miss a moment of it.”
“You closed yours, too.”
“Later I did. It seems we had best not depend on that method.” He wound her hair around his hand.
“I will ask Daj…”
“Uh…” Morgan interrupted hastily. “I had rather not involve your grandmother in this.”
Lalia giggled. “She will know, anyway. I’ve told you that.”
“Perhaps, but I do not wish to confirm her suspicions. There are devices that a man can wear. I will obtain some.”
“That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”
Morgan grimaced. “Nonetheless… I do not wish to subject you to any preventable difficulties. But nothing is completely effective.” He set down his glass and lifted her hair to his lips, kissing it softly. Lowering it again, he gazed steadily into her eyes. “Lalia, I want you to have no doubts about this. No matter what the future brings us, I will not desert you. And I would certainly not abandon my child. Have no fear of either.”
Lalia sighed. She didn’t doubt him. He had proved that he did not abandon those for whom he felt responsible. Yet, in spite of herself, she wished for more. She wished for—somewhere in a distant time—a future she could see. With him. With children. Foolish. He had told her he regarded Jeremy as his heir. He did not expect to have children. Which meant he had no intention of marrying.
Another reason to live for the moment.
He took the glass out of her hand and set it aside. With a hand in her hair he pulled her mouth close to his, his breath against her lips. “But now, come what may, I have a blazing ambition to see how you look in my bed.”
He released her hair and stood, lifting her in his arms. Feeling suddenly shy, Lalia buried her face against his shoulder as he carried her across the room. Morgan sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap and, with a hand on her chin, gently turned her lips to his. The kiss was soft, tender.
“Sweet lady.” His lips trailed to her throat, murmuring against her skin. “There is no need to be uncertain with me. At this moment I want you more than I want my next breath.” He slowly and carefully brushed the silk of her nightclothes aside and lowered his head to her breasts. His mouth left little damp kisses in the valley between them.
Lalia drew in a sudden breath as a delicious warmth began to grow in her lower body. Morgan responded by moving the kisses nearer to her nipples, his tongue just touching her skin. She arched her back, bringing her yearning nipples closer to his mouth, but he continued to circle them with hot, tantalizing touches. When she began to tremble, he stood her before him and let her gown drop to the floor.
In the next second she found herself lying on her back on the bed with Morgan, standing beside the bed, spreading her hair out around her, his hungry gaze feasting.
“Beautiful.” His hands found her breasts, stroked her quivering legs. “God, Lalia, you are unbelievably beautiful.” He stepped out of his britches and rolled across her to the other side of the bed. Stacking the pillows under his head, he lay on his back and reached for her. He lifted her to straddle his body and then carefully eased her onto his straining shaft.
Lalia felt only a moment of puzzlement before his hands cupped her breasts, drawing her closer. She leaned forward on her hands, her hair falling to create a curtain around them, shutting out everything but the two of them. His lips resumed the teasing kisses, moving ever closer to the touch her body demanded. When, at last, his mouth closed over her nipple, she moaned aloud, and her body clenched around him. He gasped and thrust into her hard.
For Lalia, the world dissolved into a cloud of sensation—Morgan’s mouth and hands on her nipples, the pulse of his hips under her, stroking her desire. Her own hips moved in the ancient, mindless manner of feminine passion, a force unto themselves, rotating, lifting, falling. The rough sound of her breathing and his echoed in her ears.
Suddenly darkness overwhelmed her. Her body began to shudder, closing around him tighter and tighter. She cried out—some meaningless sound—and heard the cry echoed in his deeper tone. When it seemed that she must surely die, the tension exploded into a thousand points of light, and she collapsed into Morgan’s arms, sobbing.
His arms closed around her, holding her hard against him while the world returned and she found she could breathe again. One of his big hands stroked her hair.
“Ah, my beautiful, generous lady.” Morgan’s lips found her ear. “Stay in my bed tonight.”
And she did.
The next morning Dr. Lanreath surprised Morgan with a visit as he was inspecting work newly done in the guest bedchambers. Morgan hurried down to the library and shook the older man’s hand warmly.
“How are you, Doctor? To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Have some news that I thought would interest you.” The doctor accepted a glass of Madeira and sat. Rather than barricade himself behind the desk, Morgan took a chair facing him and waited expectantly. The good doctor was one to waste neither time nor words.
“Found some bones.”
“Indeed?” That did interest Morgan. “Where were they found?”
“Under the bonfire.”
“The bonfire! Bloody hell, man. How did that happen? I was there myself.” Morgan set down his glass, his mind racing. While he had laughed and drunk and lusted after Lalia, someone’s body had been burning before his eyes. A chill raced up his spine. “Whose bones are they?”
“Don’t know yet. I can’t tell from what’s left. We’ll have to wait and see who comes up missing.” Lanreath crossed his ankles and sipped his wine. Apparently grim sights did nothing to disconcert him. “Again, I can’t be sure, but I believe the skull was cracked before the body burned. There were several broken bones, but the body being under the fire might have done that.”
“How did the damn things get in the fire? Someone must have put it there while the wood was being gathered.”
“I would say so. Building the pile required a couple of days. I would guess that the corpse was placed there the first night.”
They sipped wine in thoughtful silence. Morgan hoped that somehow Lalia would not hear of the gruesome discovery. He would like to think that she had fond memories of that night. He did not want them tarnished. But what did this imply? Another murder clearly.
He looked back at the doctor. “That suggests to me that the recent piracy is locally based.”
“Never doubted it.” Lanreath nodded. “I’ve suspected these several months that something is afoot. Never liked the cut of that fellow Killigrew’s jib. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t running an inn, but I’ve heard nothing to the point.”
A Dangerous Seduction Page 15
