Traded Innocence

by Antonia Adams

  He opened one eye and smiled lazily, sending more tingles through her. ‘Good morning,’ he said. Then he groaned. ‘Even after a midnight swim, even wearing a sack, you’re still beautiful. To be sure, one of us needs to move quickly.’

  ‘Don’t I get even one kiss?’

  He scrambled up before she could nestle closer. She saw him straighten the baggy drawers he’d borrowed.

  ‘You’re a boy, David. A boy in big trouble. If anyone suspects you’re a girl, you’ll be in even bigger trouble. It’s as well the sea water washed away your perfume but you’d best stay here while I go up on deck. I need to talk to the captain. Don’t leave the cabin while I’m gone. If anyone knocks on the door, don’t answer. Lie on the floor and pretend you’re asleep.’

  On her own she thought how grim he sounded. How different from the tender man kissing her in the cave. This whole escapade had turned into a nightmare. There’d been no time for reasoning last night. Too much was happening. Now she recognised her vulnerability. She’d lost her travelling companion. She’d lost the bag containing the wherewithal to exist. She’d no idea where Morwenna’s relations lived. She’d thrown away her old life by stepping into her disguise. Jac probably hated her for upsetting his own plans. Maybe even now, he was regretting ever becoming involved with such a troublesome baggage. She lay down, unable to prevent hot tears from trickling down her cheeks.

  While Rebecca headed for her new life, her father sat in his study, digesting the news of her disappearance.

  Biddy watched as he shook his head slowly, eyes focused on a portrait of Rebecca with her mother and brother, painted before Rhys died. It was obvious what was in Hugh’s mind. Every person he’d loved was lost.

  ‘Try as I might I cannot imagine Rebecca living in a nunnery,’ he said. ‘Are you certain she hasn’t been concealing some other plan?’

  Biddy spread her hands. ‘I don’t know, my lord. I can’t think where else she would go.’

  Hugh Beaumont’s voice showed his despair. ‘How do you control a girl like her, Biddy? I know you’ve tried your best. Maybe I should have locked her up. I’ve tried to give her some freedom and look how she’s repaid me.’

  ‘You mustn’t think like that!’ Biddy’s cheeks pinked as he looked at her. ‘You’ve been a good father but none of us knew how much she dreaded marrying my lord Geraint.’

  Hugh drummed the fingers of one hand on the carved arm of his chair. ‘I thought it was the best solution. When he came to me first, yes of course I wondered about the age difference. But there seemed sense in combining the two estates. With no one left to run this one …’

  His words were interrupted by a servant. ‘Dermot Maddocks is asking to speak with you, my lord.’

  Hugh shot to his feet. ‘What the devil! All right, then show him in.’ He looked at Biddy. ‘We haven’t spoken in years. I wonder why he should turn up now.’

  Biddy stood up too. ‘I’ll leave you to talk alone. But I’ll be close at hand in case you need me.’

  She left the room as Dermot was about to enter. They acknowledged one another with a brief nod then the old friends stood face to face for the first time in years. The servant closed the door.

  ‘Why are you here? Do you have news of Rebecca?’

  ‘I’m here as a friend, Hugh, even if you don’t acknowledge me as one. As for Rebecca, I think your daughter’s a courageous young woman and you should be proud of her.’

  Hugh grunted. ‘Courageous or foolhardy?’

  ‘Has the unlucky bridegroom called upon you yet?’

  ‘No. Not that it’s your business.’

  ‘He thinks it is. I booted him out of my yard not two hours ago.’

  Hugh frowned. ‘You’d best sit down. Take a drop of ale with me now you’re here.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to explain. Try not to interrupt and please trust my judgement.’

  Hugh heard Dermot out in silence. Now and then he gnawed on his thumbnail. Only at the end did he get up and walk to the window where his dogs snoozed in the sunshine.

  ‘Jac will look after her, Hugh. If he didn’t care about her welfare, he wouldn’t have got on that boat.’

  ‘You expect me to believe a man like that won’t force himself upon my daughter?’

  ‘I expect you to accept my word,’ said Dermot, eyes flashing. ‘My nephew has his own code. I’m not denying he’s good with women and horses. But I’d stake my life he won’t steal Rebecca’s virtue. Had she stayed here and married Geraint the Grim, she’d have lost her soul and her mind and the will to live. Can’t you accept that?’

  Hugh put his head in his hands. Dermot waited.

  ‘I never knew all that about Geraint,’ said Hugh. ‘That filth – why didn’t you come to me before?’

  ‘Would you have even let me through your front door, leave alone listen?’

  The two men stared at each other.

  ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in my own affairs, so eager to assure the future of my estate, I didn’t take enough notice of people. I didn’t see through Geraint’s fine clothes and smooth talking.’

  ‘Rebecca’s like her mother,’ said Dermot. ‘She doesn’t settle for something or someone she’s not sure of. That’s why Marion chose you, over me. She didn’t want a black sheep.’

  Hugh smiled. ‘And Jac’s not a black sheep?’

  Dermot shrugged. ‘What you see is what you get. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He gives more than he takes. He passionately defends those he cares about. I know who I’d rather see my daughter marry.’

  ‘You’re saying Rebecca wants to marry Jac?’

  ‘I have no idea. But I’ve a feeling that if she wants to, he won’t keep her away from her father. Unless of course her father happens to be too proud to allow her home again. And isn’t it time that father thought about his own situation? Come on Hugh, you’ve known joy and plenty of it. Don’t you think it’s time to forget the sadness of the past and find contentment with a woman who obviously adores you?’

  Hugh began to weep. Soundlessly.

  Dermot walked to the door and opened it. He entered the hallway and called Biddy’s name.

  She appeared, eyes questioning.

  ‘He needs you,’ said Dermot. ‘Go to him.’

  Chapter Eight

  Half Moon Cove

  THE BOAT HAD TIED up at a fishing village on the south coast of Ireland.

  ‘It’s fate,’ Jac said when they disembarked. ‘We’re only an hour’s ride from my father’s farm.’

  Rebecca preferred to forget the end of the voyage. Howling wind and lashing rain had sent the boat bucking and dipping through terrifying walls of water.

  ‘You’ve earned your sea legs and that’s a fact,’ Jac had told her.

  They threw themselves on the hospitality of his sister. Yesterday Jac had borrowed a horse from his brother-in-law and set off to see his father. They hadn’t seen anything of him since. Rebecca, wearing a gown too big in the body but too short in length, was making herself useful, as well as trying to hide her uncertainty over her future. Jac’s brother-in-law was also a farmer. She was well aware it was a struggle to feed guests.

  She held her breath when Jac rode into the yard late morning and found her sitting outside, shelling peas.

  He tied the horse to a post and walked up to her.

  ‘What happened?’ She bit her lip.

  ‘We’ve made peace.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘He wants me to go back – help build the farm up.’

  She didn’t trust herself to speak, knowing tears weren’t far away. She’d known this might happen. Who wouldn’t want Jac around?

  ‘I’ve told him my heart’s not in farming. I’ll help as much as I can while I’m here but what I really want is to go back and breed horses in Wales.’

  ‘With Dermot.’ Her voice was quiet.

  ‘If he’ll have me back.’

  ‘Of course he’ll have you back. I … I’ll need to l
ook for work of some sort.’

  He knelt on the grass in front of her. She caught her breath as she read the expression in his eyes.

  ‘We need to wait till everything calms down,’ he said. ‘Just now your father will be wishing he could shoot me. Unless Sir Geraint can beat him to it and slit my throat.’

  ‘But that’s not fair. I was the one who went to you for help. If everything had gone according to plan, I’d be in France with Morwenna now.’

  ‘Is that where you’d like to go?’ His voice was gentle.

  ‘Of course not. I don’t know anyone there. Morwenna’s idea suited me because I was desperate. I was relieved when the captain decided to rest up here but I know it’s impossible for me to stay. I’m imposing on your family’s hospitality.’ She was dropping peas into the shell pile and placing empty pods in the bowl.

  He took her hands and trapped them in his. ‘Rebecca, where do you really want to be?’

  She wanted to say, “with you”, but couldn’t form the words.

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  She stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.

  ‘Now, didn’t that go well?’ His eyes sparkled with mirth.

  Jac’s face swam before her eyes. Maybe she’d misheard. ‘You don’t need a wife,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, but the Jac who thought that wasn’t thinking right. He almost let something very precious slip through his fingers. But fate took a hand. Like my uncle says it often does. You can’t fight it.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  He laughed. ‘You’re already picking up the Irish lilt. Before I ask you again, I’d better tell you I’ve bedded more than one woman on the peninsula.’

  ‘That’s why you wouldn’t go back to the cave with me?’

  ‘That’s the reason. I couldn’t trust myself. Knew I was falling in love with you. All I think of is being with you. For ever.’

  Her throat was dry. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I realised you were prepared to end up in France, rather than let me go alone. Then I thought you’d begun hating me once we got on that boat.’

  He touched her cheek, so gently she knew how foolish she’d been to doubt him.

  ‘Being cooped up in that cabin with you could have been heaven on earth. Having to treat you like a fellow was hell. How else was I to cope with it, David my lad? It was vital we kept up the charade. If they’d caught Morwenna … who knows?’

  ‘Promise me,’ she said, ‘promise not to call our first son David.’

  Joy shone in his eyes. ‘First things first, you hussy. I’m asking you again. Rebecca, will you marry me?’

  ‘You want to wed a penniless runaway with no pretty gowns and hardly a lock of hair left on her head?’

  He raised his hand. Wound a curl around one finger. ‘I do.’

  She looked into his eyes. Joy still shone there. So much so, she felt it wriggle itself round her heart, making her want to coil her body around him.

  ‘And so do I want to marry you, Jac without a K.’

  He stood up and took the bowl from her lap. Empty pea pods scattering, he pulled her up, taking her in his arms. They clung together till he tilted her chin and moved his lips to within a hair’s breadth of hers. ‘I’m going to kiss you. Then I need to prepare to return to Wales and face my demons. We’ll move you into my da’s place. He’s got a nice old housekeeper. She’ll spoil you as much as she does me!’

  She clung to him, tasting him, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, telling him with every fibre of her body how much she loved him. Wanted him.

  They broke apart and he hugged her to him again, whispering, ‘if anyone’s watching, I don’t care. But next time I kiss you like this, I want it to go on all night.’

  Rebecca’s legs almost didn’t support her. It was as if a pink cloud enveloped her, disturbing her vision and breathing. She wanted Jac so much. How could she wait weeks, or months, for their situation to be resolved? But she recognised the firmness in his voice. Loved him for it as much as she yearned for him.

  Two months later, Rebecca and Jac were married in the little chapel near her father’s manor house. Wanting no dark reminders, she wore a simple gown of white lace. Biddy, who’d wept tears of joy when Rebecca returned, fashioned a snood from pale blue velvet so the bright hair appeared to be mostly hidden beneath. She’d no idea what changed her father’s mind but hoped, if she waited long enough, he’d tell her. The sad, questing look in his eyes was gone. There was a new tenderness in the way he spoke to Biddy.

  Tongues wagged about Morwenna’s presence at Dermot’s house. But nobody dared question him. She was beside him to see Jac and Rebecca wed. She and Jac seemed to have an easy camaraderie. More than that Rebecca didn’t want to conjecture.

  Lord Geraint had rented his house to a wealthy merchant from London and was rumoured to be travelling on the continent. He’d left an estate manager in charge.

  Jac and Rebecca were to live in Beaumont Manor, in a suite of rooms first used by her parents when they were newly-weds. Jac, pledged to forego his smuggling ways, was to breed horses, advised by his uncle. He’d also learn to run the estate.

  After the ceremony, guests walked the short distance to the manor. Suddenly Rebecca took Jac’s hand. Drew him aside and whispered to him.

  ‘On our wedding day?’ His eyes sparkled with humour.

  ‘Especially on our wedding day.’ She saw Catrin smiling at her and placed one finger on her lips.

  Rebecca ran. He pelted after her. They hurried. Scrambled. Screeched with laughter when they swayed and staggered like drunkards on the shifting dunes. Jac slipped and sat down, cursing, on a thistle. She stopped to catch her breath, giggling at his frustration. Rebecca knew if she wanted, he’d take her there in the sandy hollow. Still she made him follow her. She knew this would be no polite deflowering. She’d asked Morwenna about love. The witch had told her to learn for herself, but not to hold back when she truly wanted a man.

  ‘Low tide,’ said Jac, pulling her close on arrival at the beach.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, lifting her face to his.

  They kissed greedily as if they wanted to burrow inside each other’s body. He scooped her up in his arms and set off purposefully towards the headland.

  ‘You’ll have no strength left,’ she warned.

  ‘You think so?’

  This was a momentous journey for Rebecca. No crashing seas and curious sailors. Every step Jac took nudged her closer to womanhood. At the cave, her eyes widened at sight of the blanket on the shingle. Gently he set her back on her own two feet.

  ‘Jac …?’

  ‘The water never comes up this far.’

  ‘You knew what I wanted?’

  ‘I wanted it too. So much. That time you asked me if we’d be safer going to the cave … I thought I’d burst my breeches.’

  She reached inside his waistcoat. ‘I’m glad you made me wait.’

  His mouth sought her lips. His tongue touched hers. Ripples of desire flickered. Nothing could stop their hunger for one another.

  His hands cupped her breasts. Her breathing was ragged. His fingers found the buttons at the back of her gown. ‘You smell like a rose garden,’ he said as she stepped from the lacy folds.

  She placed her hands on his chest. Smoothed them over his nipples. Let her fingers walk his ribs then reach lower. With one finger she followed the tapering arrow of dark hair disappearing beneath his breeches. Unfastened one button. Then another. With wonderment she found how real and warm that intriguing bulge felt in her hand. Breasts spilling above her bodice she stooped to caress him. Hearing his groan of pleasure, Rebecca felt triumphant. Now she knew how wise the witch’s words were.

  ‘It’s a good job I’ve nerves of steel,’ said Jac, reaching to unfasten her stays.

  She removed her hand to help him. When she stood naked before him, she laced her fingers round his stiff cock again. ‘I hope you won’t be disappointed,’ she whispered.

  ‘Impossible,’ he said,
pushing her twin globes together so he could flick his tongue from one pink nipple to the other. He licked then sucked on each firm nub in turn, making her gasp. Increasing her arousal.

  Rebecca was drowning in a sensuous sea of pleasure. Jac’s mouth moved down her body. Lazily. Finding each curve. Each dip and hollow. Tasting, titillating, teasing till she whimpered in his arms. She knew he was ready to take her on the sands where they’d first met. Still he didn’t rush her.

  Once they lay down, her voice became urgent. ‘Please,’ she said.

  He bent his head over the soft coppery mound hiding her sex. ‘I need you nice and wet, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.’ Gently he parted her folds and she felt a new sensation as his tongue began its cunning work. Before long, she was writhing. Crooning little animal sounds. Jerking her head from side to side as she rode the spasms.

  ‘What’s happening to me?’ She gasped.

  Jac didn’t answer. She curled her fingers in his hair, allowing his rhythmic rocking tongue to take her to the edge of reason. When she thought she could stand no more, he licked his thumb and pressed it to her little toy soldier. He needed only three strokes.

  Lying there, eyes closed, hearing his ragged breath, she reached for him, longing for the end of girlhood.

  ‘Now, Jac.’

  Gently he pushed his forefinger inside her. She felt the taut resistance. He straddled her, fingers still parting her inner lips. She felt his cock’s velvety head. Almost there.

  Jac pressed harder. ‘I can’t stop,’ he gasped. ‘I have to …’

  She opened her legs wide. Arched her back. Meeting him, welcoming him deep inside, helping him stretch that tight, wet slit. He pushed harder and harder. And then that solid, beautiful thing she’d longed for without knowing what it would feel like, filled her.

  A moan of sheer delight escaped Jac’s lips. His eyes were shut, telling her he was in a world of his own. Rebecca knew she would join him there. She coiled her legs round him. He groaned again, pumping her gently but steadily, rhythm building as he slid in and out … in and out. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was thrusting with all his strength. Pushing his hands under her rump. Tilting her hips forward so her petals opened for him.