Enthralled

by Lora Leigh

  It finally began to make sense. “Including the chest of gold coins?”

  “Yes. Everything my ancestor took with him was documented, with the understanding that it would all be returned when the Horde had been overthrown. That documentation reached the Americas with one of the king’s ministers. But my ancestor did not. The Irish fired upon his ship, instead.”

  “They denied it.”

  “Yes. So my ancestor was labeled a thief when the treasures in his keeping disappeared—and his title and lands were stripped from him and his heirs. I ought to have been next in line.”

  “Now you want to restore your family’s good name.” Along with the title and lands.

  “Yes.”

  “And you needed the coins as proof that your ancestor didn’t steal them?”

  Smiling, he dipped his head in a slow nod. “Exactly right, Mrs. Thomas.”

  What a load of ballocks. She didn’t doubt that there was some truth to his tale of being an heir and of lost titles, but the history of those coins would have been revealed when Thom put them up for auction, and Southampton’s family’s name would have been cleared then. So that could not be his only reason for taking such drastic measures to secure the coins—and the most probable reason was the same as the one she’d first suspected: money. Those coins were worth a fortune. A clever man could claim that he’d only recovered half their number from the wreck, return those to the Crown as proof of his ancestor’s innocence, then sell the remainder on the sly.

  Georgiana didn’t know what his ancestor had been, but this would-be Lord Southampton was likely nothing but a thief, after all.

  But she didn’t say so. “You must have been searching for these coins for some time—along with the other treasures that your ancestor took with him.”

  “As my father did, and his father, and his father. We have hoped to hear any mention of the items.”

  “So that is how Thom’s salvage dealer knew to contact you.”

  Southampton nodded again. “I would not miss any opportunity to gain proof of my ancestor’s innocence. My children will not be raised under the shadow of shame that I was.”

  Perhaps in Manhattan City, that shadow had been a painful one. But considering that he would likely try to deny Georgiana and Thom the chance of having any children at all—or a life that lasted longer than a few more days—she could not feel sympathy for him.

  “Why didn’t you send your own divers to Dublin, then?”

  “We didn’t know exactly where the items were, in truth. The weeks following the invasion were complete chaos. No one was certain which ship he’d boarded, or even if he’d made it onto a ship at all. The treasures might have shown up anywhere.”

  So he hadn’t known much of anything until Thom had found the coins. “And what would you have done if they’d been found elsewhere?”

  This time, the smile that touched his lips wasn’t amused. Just determined. And a bit frightening. “The same thing I am now: make my best offer, then go about securing them any way necessary.”

  “And you will let us return home after Thom retrieves the coins for you?”

  “Of course.” Southampton shrugged, the coldness falling away. “Just as I said I would.”

  “So you did.”

  And Georgiana didn’t believe a word of it.

  * * *

  Their dinner arrived shortly thereafter—fish and potatoes, and just as coarse as she would have expected from a mercenary cook—and they spent the remainder of the meal speaking of pleasant trifles. Georgiana was glad to finally return to the stateroom, where her time would be spent in a worthwhile purpose.

  It was almost midnight when she and Thom finished running the air hose through the tub—at least five hundred feet of it. Probably more than would be used in a hundred-foot dive, but he would need at least some of the extra length to move around when he reached the bottom, and it was always better to have too much than too little.

  She rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders to loosen stiff muscles. “Are you coming to bed?”

  Shaking his head, he hauled the giant coil of hose out from the middle of the floor. “I’ll make do with that big chair.”

  Big chair? Georgiana glanced toward the porthole. He meant the settee—but to a man of his size, it probably looked the same.

  And it would be ridiculous for him to sleep there, whatever he called it.

  “No, Thom. You’ve just spent days in a fever, recovering from a bullet wound. You will share the bed with me.”

  Once again, her husband proved himself a sensible man. He didn’t argue with her. He just nodded.

  Mrs. Winch hadn’t brought any of her nightgowns. By the soft glow of the lamp, Georgiana unpinned her hair. She removed her dress and stockings, then quickly climbed into bed wearing only her chemise. She watched as Thom stripped down to his drawers and snuffed the lamp. Darkness filled the cabin, but the silvery moonlight through the portholes allowed her to follow his progress to the bed. She waited, holding her breath. He lifted the blankets. The bed creaked, the mattress dipped.

  As soon as he settled onto his back, Georgiana turned against his side, flattening her hand over his heart. Crisp hair tickled her palm. His hard body tensed against hers before he relaxed. His fingers slid down her spine, steel whispering over cotton, and with a tightening of his arm drew her a little closer against him. Smiling, she rested her head against his biceps.

  A few seconds later, she began shaking with silent laughter.

  “Georgie?”

  “It’s harder than I realized.” She sat up to the sound of his deep laugh and tucked her pillow into the crook of his arm. “Is this all right?”

  “Yes.”

  In the faint light, she saw he was smiling. Georgiana lay down again, her cheek cushioned by down and supported by steel. In all her life, she didn’t think there’d been a single moment that had been as wonderful as this.

  Then she sighed, because there were less wonderful things that needed to be spoken of. “Even if you find the gold tomorrow, you should delay bringing it up.”

  “So that we’ll have tomorrow night to bring up the submersible?”

  Or to develop another plan, if that proved impossible. “Yes.”

  “You think he’s lying about returning us home, too.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “Your discovery of the coins would have been the proof he needed to clear his name. But as the salvager, you’d have had a claim on any profits—or a reward, if the Crown decided to simply take the coins back.”

  “He’s after the money,” Thom agreed. “As if he doesn’t have enough.”

  “I don’t think he does.” Georgiana came up on her elbow, her breasts pressing softly against his side. Moonlight and shadows made a handsome sculpture of his features. “I did, but not after he told us that he’d made his best offer. That doesn’t make sense. I believe that he wants to reclaim his title—that he’s desperate to. So why would his best offer be so low? He’d want to be certain that no one could buy those coins before he did. So I don’t think he was able to offer more.”

  “You think he’s strapped?” Doubt colored Thom’s voice.

  “Very likely. In Manhattan City, it’s quite common for the noble families to have all the appearance of wealth, while in truth they are living on credit and the goodwill of their relations. And if Southampton was desperate for the money as well as his title—or if he’s just a greedy bastard—it would explain why he chose this route.”

  “Trying to kill me for it? He still could have just taken the coins when I offered them.”

  “But you know how many coins were found. If fewer than five thousand were returned to the Crown, you are the one person who could expose him.”

  “The dealer knew.” Thom’s body stiffened against hers. “And you know, too.”

  “And that’s why I don’t believe he’ll let us live. No matter what he says. And I wouldn’t lay bets on your dealer’s life, either.”

&nbs
p; With a heavy sigh, Thom nodded. He reached up and drew the curtain of her hair back over her shoulder—it had been shadowing her face, she realized. She caught his hand before he lowered it back to his side.

  Her fingers slipped through his. Hard, cool. Surprisingly smooth. The joints were so finely constructed, she could barely detect the seams. In brighter light, she’d seen the great number of components, as if Ivy Blacksmith had taken twenty different machines and reshaped them into his arms.

  “They are truly amazing,” she said softly.

  “Yes.”

  His voice was thick. Suddenly her throat felt the same. Without letting go of his hand, she lay her head against his chest, listened to the heavy thud of his heart.

  “I need to tell you, Thom. What I said—what I made you promise—it wasn’t what I meant.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “Holding me in your arms. I should have explained. My mother . . . When my father was gone, she was always looking out the window. Waiting for him. And when he wasn’t home, she never even seemed alive. Like some part of her was gone, too.”

  “She always looked happy to me.”

  Georgiana came up on her elbow again, saw his confused frown. “Because you only saw her when my father was there, too. When you worked on his ship, you came home when he did. So after we married, I didn’t want to be like my mother. I didn’t care what sort of arms you held me with. I just wanted you home every night.”

  His mouth flattened into a hard line. “But I left, anyway.”

  Yes, he had. And that remembered hurt tightened her throat. Because she hadn’t explained herself then, but he’d known she wanted him home. “I asked you to stay.”

  As if in frustration, he lifted his head and slammed it back against the pillow with a soft whump. “Your father told me you would. And that if I did as you asked, and didn’t bring anything home, soon you’d be asking why I wasn’t out there working and supporting you.”

  Georgiana frowned. Though she didn’t like to think so, maybe she would have. When they’d married, she’d had no occupation for herself, aside from helping keep her father’s records. What had she expected Thom to do? She’d wanted him to stay near to their home. But work was scarce, and staying close to home wasn’t always an option for a laboring man.

  It would be now. Her shipping interests earned enough to support them both. Thom could work anywhere he liked—or not work at all, if that was what he wanted.

  And despite all the hurt of the past four years, a part of her was suddenly glad for every bit of pain. His absence had turned her into a woman who wouldn’t ask her husband when he would support her.

  “Did I do that to you?” His words were low and rough. “Did I make you watch at the windows, with a part of you gone?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let myself. I kept myself occupied. I made a business.”

  “Did you?” Admiration tinged his deep voice.

  “Yes.” Lightly, she traced her fingers down the center of his chest. “And it’s partially yours. For years, my father had been selling whale oil to men who turned around and made a fortune trading it with the Horde. So I took the money you sent and used it to pay a crew to sail my father’s ship to Morocco and trade directly. I might have lost everything. But I was lucky. I made enough to buy more vessels, though I don’t take so many risks now. Primarily just shipping cargo around the North Sea.”

  “That’s good, Georgie. I’m glad you did well. But I’m sorry that you had to. I should have done better.”

  The sudden bleakness of his expression ripped at her heart. “No, Thom. It was good of you to want to, to try to. But you’re not the only one in this marriage who is responsible for my happiness and well-being. Or for yours.”

  He gave a slight nod. Not of agreement, she saw, but the sort of nod someone gave when they didn’t believe something, yet they didn’t want to argue, and there wasn’t anything left for them to say. Despite her words, he still thought that he’d failed as a husband.

  She would convince him otherwise. But she needed to know how to do it, and first learn more about this man she’d married. Not by assuming, but by asking.

  “Was it truly such a huge difference, Thom, when the tower came down? In everything you thought and felt?”

  He hesitated for a long second, then his throat worked and he said, “Like coming out of the fog into bright sun.”

  “But that’s a good thing.” Though the thickness of his voice and that hesitation made her wonder. “Isn’t it?”

  “It is. Now.”

  “But not then?”

  “It was then. But it was all at once. All these things I never felt, all at once. Fear. Rage. Everything. I went mad with them.”

  She couldn’t imagine it. Not her calm, ordered husband. But perhaps that explained why he was so controlled now. “Did being that way frighten you?”

  “Yes. I was more like an animal than a man. I wanted to be a man again. The things I did, Georgie . . .” Voice strained into nothing, he shook his head.

  Her heart ached with every painful word. Talking about this was clearly difficult for him. She could barely make herself ask more. But she needed to know. How could he ever think he wasn’t a man? “What sort of things?”

  “Killing the men trying to put us down. Rutting.”

  Rutting? Did he mean . . . “With women?”

  “Not just. Men, too.”

  “Oh.” Georgiana didn’t know what to say. That was completely outside her experience, except as whispers and jokes. But Thom didn’t seem to think one or the other any different—only his lack of control seemed to bother him. So that would be her only concern, too. “You did that during the frenzies, too?”

  “It was the same. Though the tower made us feel it, then. But after it came down, that need was overwhelming in the same way. I was still trying to get ahold of myself. And all around me, others were trying to do the same. Just a look or a touch could set us off, and we’d fuck in a street.” His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I shouldn’t have said.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I wanted to know, Thom.” Her heart hurting, she stroked her fingers down his beard. Some of what he said, the way he said it—all rough and shocking, but so had his life been. “You weren’t like that with me.”

  “I made myself control it. I didn’t want to hurt you. Back then, I only cared about what I felt. Getting into someone and spending inside them. I didn’t want to be an animal with you.” He met her eyes, and the torment she saw in his almost ripped her open. “But it’s still in me. All of it’s still in me, Georgie.”

  “Oh, Thom. If feeling more than you can bear and wanting someone makes you an animal, then I am one, too.” She leaned over him, her fingers sliding into his thick hair. “But you’re a man. The finest I know.”

  Without waiting for his answer, Georgiana bent her head. Her lips pressed to his. She felt the sharp catch of breath, but that was all. He didn’t move. Still controlling himself.

  He didn’t need to, not with her. But perhaps she would never persuade him with words alone.

  She softly kissed her way from the corner of his mouth to the center of his firm bottom lip. A shudder ripped through his big body. Steel hands came up to frame her face, then he kissed her back, his mouth so gentle and slow that she wanted to cry from the sweetness of it.

  Her husband. Her man.

  Her breath hitched. Immediately, he pulled away.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Georgie,” he said hoarsely.

  “You won’t.”

  Through the shadows over his eyes, she saw that he wasn’t convinced. But he was not the only one responsible for their happiness. She was, too. And when necessary, she would see to a task herself.

  “May I touch you, then?”

  His brows drew together in a dark line. “Me?”

  “Yes.” Smiling, she smoothed her palm along the heavy muscles atop his shoulder, marveling at the seamless meld of hot skin
to cool steel. “When you were with fever, I washed you down with ice water, and saw more of you than at any time since we’ve married. And I was so worried then, I didn’t think of how appealing you looked—but now I cannot stop thinking of all that I saw. Of all that I’d like to touch now that you’re well. And how I want to kiss you again.”

  Expression torn by desire and worry, his face darkened in the silvery light. But he didn’t deny her. “Anything you want of me, Georgie.”

  His mouth, first. This time, he didn’t hesitate before kissing her back, half rising to meet her. Not so sweet now, but hot, his mouth opening against hers to suck lightly at her upper lip before moving to the lower, gentle tugs that pulled at a painful need inside her. Heart racing, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, though she could feel the air coming and going through her parted lips, sharp little pants heated by Thom’s mouth.

  Her fingers fisting in his hair, she pushed closer. A gentle lick against her bottom lip sent pleasure bursting into a desperate ache. She whimpered low in her throat, wanting more and more.

  Thom dragged his mouth away. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. You can’t. Please, Thom.”

  Lying across his heaving chest, she pulled him back into the kiss, wanting him to feel what she had, licking and tugging at his firm lips.

  With a groan, his hands gripped her hips. He hauled her fully on top of him, her thighs straddling his abdomen, her chemise sliding up past her knees. His mouth opened under hers and suddenly there was the more she’d wanted, in the steady pressure between her legs and the thrusting penetration of his tongue, but they didn’t ease the ache, only made it sharper and harder.

  Deep and hungry, each kiss drew more whimpers from her throat, started the rocking of her hips. His bare skin so hot between her thighs, and the ridged muscles of his stomach so hard, she couldn’t keep herself from rubbing against him, where she felt so empty and needy and . . . wet.