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Lady Fugitive

Page 22

by Shannah Biondine


  Chapter 26

  Morgan found Boyd was at least partially correct. It felt good to take a ride out here, even if it was most likely a fool's errand. He passed a grove of trees where the crows had found the remains of a rabbit or squirrel. Some were on the ground picking at the carcass; others were in the treetops, squawking and cawing. He remembered the ride out here with Richelle that Sunday afternoon. They'd talked about the birds...his plans...his dreams for the future and the village.

  He frowned as he glimpsed a large canine loping across the track ahead. Accursed mutt was likely responsible for whatever the crows were feasting upon. The dog lowered its head and moved toward someone at the outer edge of Morgan's vision. The figure clapped its hands once. The hound obediently approached and sat down. Apparently the man who owned the hound also now owned the granary. No one else was in sight.

  Morgan pulled back on the reins and peered through the dust. There was no carriage or mount, but the figure moved to sit on the big flat rock. Morgan frowned again. The man was dressed oddly, in a long cloak. The weather was mild, hardly cold enough for a fellow to need a cloak. His early estimation of a feeble old man seemed accurate.

  But drawing closer, he realized he was quite mistaken. He jerked Phantom to a halt and stared in disbelief. The person reached to pat the dog's large head, and a cascade of auburn tresses spilled with the forward movement. A bit of gold on her left hand flashed in the late afternoon sun. Morgan's heart knew what his mind had only begun to grasp.

  "Richelle?"

  Instantly the auburn head came up, and Morgan felt the sharp stab of recognition hit him in the chest.

  "Morgan! I'm so glad you came. I wanted to talk to you alone before we go back to the village."

  "I'm not working for you."

  It wasn't at all what he'd intended to say, Morgan realized with dismay, but he'd been too stunned to think clearly. Boyd knew! He set me up for this.

  His wife's welcoming expression didn't change a bit. "I don't see why not. I worked for you."

  Sliding out of the saddle, he tossed the reins at the branches of a low bush. He took two strides and the dog was instantly between him and Richelle, hackles bristling as it began to growl.

  "I think we better give him a few moments to realize you're someone I cherish," Richelle said, still smiling. "Now, as to that business you came to discuss. I purchased the granary. Fill it this harvest, and your commission will be ownership reinstated in your name. I'll sign it over to you as soon as it's at capacity."

  Morgan was flabbergasted. She'd arrived without warning and set up this…he wasn't even sure what this was. A happy wedded reunion, or honestly a meeting just to discuss business? "You're bribing me with my granary?"

  "Excuse me, sir, but I think I just explained that it's mine. I'd sign it over here and now, but I recall you steadfastly refused to benefit from my inheritance. I can't just give it to you, so I'm offering you means to attain it. You do want it back, don't you?"

  "Of course I bloody well want it back!" He started to step closer, then thought the better of it as the dog snarled once again. Protective is too mild a term for this creature's attitude. Wonder where she picked up the filthy beggar?

  Richelle nodded, clearly pleased with herself. "Then you will work. If not for me, for yourself. Good. That makes me very happy."

  "Seeing you finally back here in Yorkshire makes me exceedingly happy. I'd do something about it, if I didn't fear losing a leg for trying."

  She laughed, and his chest loosened. She was possibly even more beautiful than he remembered. And her smile...He remembered only too well its effect. Time hadn't altered the predictable physical reaction. He was stiff as a flagpole just looking at her.

  She rose from the rock, and damned dog or not, Morgan crossed to pull her close. "Jesus, but I've missed you," he groaned, kissing her passionately. His arms slid beneath her cloak. He abruptly stiffened and broke their embrace.

  "Good God, you're pregnant!"

  "Can't hide anything from you, Bargainer."

  "You should have written and told me…shouldn't have come all the way out here. How in God's name did you even get here? Please tell me Boyd brought you or arranged something. If he let you walk all this way, I'll have him horsewhipped. I swear I will. Maybe you should sit down again."

  She did, pulling him down on the rock beside her. She tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder. "It's so good to be with you again. I missed you dreadfully. It truly did take longer than I might have thought to sell everything and get affairs in order, but the child is the other reason I had to delay sailing. The doctor said I shouldn't risk it until he was certain everything progressed normally."

  "You and the babe are all right?"

  "We're both fine. Your seed apparently forms very solid roots. This baby has his father's strength and determination. He kicks ferociously." She gave him a radiant smile.

  Morgan stared into the distance, his throat tight. When he finally spoke again, his voice was still rough with emotion. "I'd be lying if I tried to convince you that I've been doing well since my return here. I'm afraid I've taken to drinking again, rather more often than you'd like. I've been staying at that bloody cottage, hating it because you're not there with me. Boyd pointed out that my garments are all in need of laundering and I'm…I've…I've been lost, Richelle."

  He stared down into her eyes. "You kept part of my soul and I've barely been able to function without it. Now you've brought it back with…so much more. I don't know if I'm ready for all of this."

  "I've had a bit more time to adjust to the concept of becoming a parent. You've a few months yet until the birth and fatherhood is thrust upon you. I think you'll come around."

  He clasped her hand tightly. "That child is mine, and I gave you my word to be at your side when your time comes. Let's go home." He walked Phantom to where Richelle stood and lifted her crosswise onto the saddle. Her eyes were soft as they searched his face.

  "No more riding astride." He swung up behind her and settled her across his lap, his whole body rigid. "The hound can come along. But I warn you, if I ever feel his teeth, he'll find himself back out here chasing squirrels."

  Morgan insisted they stop at Dr. Rowe's house. He stood beside Richelle as the elderly physician examined her. Richelle blushed when he pronounced everything normal and cautioned the couple against marital relations after the next few weeks.

  Lorella had prepared Morgan's favorite, beef stew with dumplings. He greeted her stiffly and ate slowly, his eyes on Richelle. She'd been too nervous to eat most of the day, but was ravenous now. She downed two helpings of stew with a large glass of milk.

  "Appreciate what you've done for us, Lorella," Morgan announced as he left the table. "We'll discuss your wages in the morning. Expect you're due an increase. Madam and I are retired for the evening. Have breakfast ready at eight."

  He started up the stairs without a glance for Richelle. She obediently followed, but paused when she found him waiting outside the master bedchamber. He gestured for her to precede him. Her eyes misted over when she spotted new bedside tables and a pair of porcelain lamps. Lamps with pink flowers on their upper globes.

  "Oh, Morgan!"

  His voice was gentle. "I knew how badly you'd wanted the lamp. The merchant admitted he had a second. I thought you'd like a pair flanking the canopy bed."

  "It's a very nice surprise," she whispered. "Thank you."

  "Nothing like mine." He sat on the edge of the bed. Lorella had placed the patchwork quilt across the lace coverlet. Morgan ran one hand over it. "I never liked this, you know. It's an eyesore, yet I wouldn't have believed I could miss the thing so much." His eyes met hers, and she saw his were misty, too.

  He patted the mattress and she settled beside him. He laid a hand gently on her abdomen. "Somehow I assumed a pregnant belly would feel like a pillow. But it's hard," he marveled. "Strong, filled with new life." His hand moved higher and cupped a breast. "This, too. Fuller, plumper."


  She made no attempt to move his hand. He leaned closer until their lips met. He pulled back, then dipped his head to taste her again. It was like that first tremulous kiss long ago. "Ah, love, I need you so badly, I can scarcely breathe. I'll be as gentle as I can, but it's been so damned long." He opened his breeches and freed his swollen manhood. "Touch me, Richelle." He bent to kiss her again, sucked in a hissing breath as her fingers reached to curve around him.

  "It's been hell, hasn't it?" she whispered, closing her eyes as his thumb and forefinger tweaked her left nipple. "I missed you so very much."

  She moaned when he took both swollen breasts in his hands and tenderly kneaded them. He slowly peeled away her garments, staring at her body. Richelle knew her areolas had darkened and spread. Where it had been a dimple before, her navel protruded slightly now. Morgan bent to flick his tongue against it the spot, tasting her flesh there.

  "That's the most erotic thing you've ever done," she admitted in a choked whisper, all at once shy and confused. "I was afraid you wouldn't like the changes to my body."

  "I like the way you've changed, and knowing I'm the cause."

  "I love you. So much." She stroked his length, worshipping him. "Please, Morgan. Make love to me."

  He quickly stripped and pressed her back onto the quilt, entering her with a single slow, measured thrust that made her gasp in pleasure. She made soft mewling sounds that grew louder with each buck of his hips. Her fevered hands pulled him in deeper and deeper. Richelle cried out, reaching her climax just as Morgan shuddered with his own release. She was still lying quietly sated in his arms when a soft rap sounded at the bedroom door.

  "I'm sorry," came Lorella's hushed voice. "Your partner's downstairs, Mr. Tremayne. Should I tell him you can't be disturbed?"

  "Have him wait, Lorella," Morgan called out. "I'll be down directly." He gave Richelle a look of reproach. "You and Boyd played a nasty trick on me today. Put something on and stay here until you hear your true name. Then come down and join me." He rose and retrieved his pants from the floor.

  He descended to the landing, upper body and feet still bare. His hair was loose around his shoulders. He glanced furtively toward the kitchen before frowning down at his guest. "What's so important you had to come here tonight?"

  "I wanted to see how you fared this afternoon. I gather it went well," Boyd winked, grinning.

  "You didn't tell me I'd meet a tempting wench in need of servicing out there! Had I known, I never would have argued about going. My wife's sent her maid and the luggage ahead. Going to have to finish pleasuring the wench quicker than I'd like, then get her out of here."

  Boyd visibly paled. "What in the name of God have you done, Morgan? I sent you to meet with your wife! I can't believe you're dallying with some milkmaid. If Rachel comes home and finds you tumbling—"

  "Richelle," Morgan corrected loudly. On cue, she appeared in the rose silk gown and descended to stand beside Morgan. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Most tempting wench I've ever met." He pivoted slightly and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. Richelle blushed from the roots of her hair all the way to her toes.

  Boyd almost dropped his hat. "God! You nearly gave me heart failure!"

  "Forgive me, oldest and dearest friend," Morgan taunted, "but you knew what lay in store for me, yet purposely had me chafing and distraught. I owed you a little of your own medicine back for your part in the little deception."

  "I'll take that as appreciation for my efforts," Boyd responded, smiling at the woman in front of him. "But I want to be certain I heard you correctly. Your name's not Rachel?"

  Morgan started to answer, but she nudged his ribs gently. "I came here originally under an assumed name, due to a legal problem. It's resolved now, thanks to your partner. My name's Richelle. Richelle Tremayne."

  "It's been a good many years since there's been a woman with that surname in this village. Congratulations, Morgan. You two must come to supper at our place one night soon. Chrissandra and I insist."

  "Aye," Morgan agreed with a slight bow.

  "Mistress Tremayne, I'm firmly convinced you're the ideal mate for this difficult fellow. I sensed as much from the first."

  Morgan pulled her closer against his side. "I'll be damned if I let you claim an ounce of credit for this marriage, Boyd. I had to scrape my knee in front of Squire Martin and the entire village, then pursue her through hell and high water."

  "No credit, eh?" Boyd retorted. "I believe the lady can settle this dispute." He glanced at Richelle. "Do you recall when we first discussed my business partner and your new landlord?"

  "Yes."

  With a smug air, Boyd asked, "When did he first make a suggestive comment or advance toward you?"

  "The afternoon he met me at the inn and insisted on walking me home."

  "What does that prove?" Morgan carped. "She wouldn't even give me a bloody cup of tea that day! She practically threw me out of here."

  "So you'd already been rebuffed when you complained about her the next morning at the office. She didn't jump at the chance for a flirtation. That's the first I've ever heard of that reaction from a woman where you're concerned. What a challenge that must have presented, Morgan!"

  Morgan's features went slack. Then he released a hearty laugh. "Get out of here, Atkinson."

  "Gladly," Boyd grinned. "Got a new bride and soft mattress waiting at home myself."

  Minutes later Richelle and Morgan were once again nude and wrapped in one another's arms. "It pleases me more than words can express to have you here with me, madam," he announced as his fingertip traced around her pliant nipple. "At my side, in this canopy bed, where I dreamt of loving you for so long."

  "It pleases me to hear you laugh again," she answered.

  "Afraid your child would have a sullen, disagreeable father, were you?"

  She shook her head. "He'll have the most handsome, wonderful, understanding father in the world."

  "What if he is a she?"

  "I won't have a she," Richelle replied tartly. "I'm not sharing you with another female. Even one who only weighs eight pounds." Her arms wrapped around his waist and she kissed him, starting the loving all over again. Morgan forgot the baby, the loneliness, the separation. There was nothing but Richelle wanting him and loving him.

  Later, when the parlor clock struck midnight, Morgan's baritone rumbled softly in the darkness. "You know I can't repay you for the granary, Richelle."

  "I don't expect repayment."

  "But I told you I didn't want any part of your inheritance. You've not only disobeyed me, you've left me deeply indebted."

  "Would you rather I'd left you bankrupt? You sound almost bitter. If you feel you must repay me somehow, do it by keeping your promise to be with me when the baby comes. And don't speak of my inheritance again. It only causes friction of the wrong kind between us."

  "Have you had enough of the right kind for one night?" Morgan asked, stroking her bottom. She nodded against his shoulder. "Good, because your rake of a husband is getting sleepy. "

  He felt a sudden movement against his flank. Richelle murmured something, snuggling closer. He realized with a shock what she'd said. "That was our son?"

  She nodded, yawning. The movement came again, stronger this time. Richelle was completely relaxed. She hadn't made the abrupt movements.

  His unborn child moved inside her.

  Only yesterday, even that very same morning, Morgan had been mentally examining a bleak future. Tonight he held his wife close to his heart. She'd spent part of her inheritance to restore his granary. Against his direct instructions. She always repaid her debts, she'd said. He couldn't tell her how profoundly that affected him. Tonight he had Richelle's warmth and comfort, the promise of a family. So much more than a simple debt repaid.

  "Richelle, thank you," he whispered. "For the child…and for coming back to me. For marrying me and loving me." He realized she'd fallen asleep. He pulled the quilt over her shoulder and kissed her forehead te
nderly. "Good night, Madam Tremayne."

  It had been long months since he'd whispered those words in the darkness. Tonight he truly meant their signal of peace and safety. His arms around Richelle, he closed his eyes, and for the first time since leaving America, drifted off to sleep without a single drop of liquor.

  Chapter 27

  Morgan rapidly got commitments enough to nearly fill the granary, and Richelle signed it over as promised, relieved to have it off her conscience. She filled in for Chrissy at the holding company office now and again, but Morgan insisted she spend most of her time resting at the cottage. She couldn't argue the point. His concern for her welfare and that of their unborn child touched her deeply.

  Still, she needed to get out for fresh air and exercise occasionally. She enjoyed accompanying Lorella on market days, although doing so also meant receiving all sorts of unwanted advice from Crowshaven's matrons and merchants. She was offered cures for hiccups, poor eye focus, teething, ear tugging, and bedwetting.

  "Sometimes I think they'll be telling me how to find my son a wife next," she groaned to her companion. But Lorella wasn't listening. She appeared to be getting lessons in how to select a pumpkin from a young man with a very cocky grin.

  "You want a good, firm stem," he told her as his fingers guided hers to check the solidity of the squash in question. He encouraged her to wrap her fingers around the green stump, and Richelle heard more than a few snickers around them.

  But the astonishing fact was that Lorella actually bowed her head and flushed a very becoming shade of pink.

  These villagers had no way of knowing that Lorella was anything but a timid young American housemaid. Her blush brought a wave of sympathetic teasing from the local farmers, who enjoined the young rascal to stop tormenting the poor lass.

  Richelle choked down her own laughter. If the rascal only knew! Lorella had caressed far more than pumpkin stems and could give him lessons about "solid meat" that would straighten all his rumpled curly hair. Lorella paid for the squash and kept her face averted as they crossed the square toward the cottage.

 

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