The Captain's Surrender (Currents of Love Book 6)

by Emilee Harris

  Wasted years... If I wait long enough might see... Daniel’s head swam. Lenore sounded upset at his offer to allow her freedom in their marriage. What remained of his rational mind insisted on the impossibility of that.

  “Na’er ye worry, Captain Langdon,” she continued, face flushed in rage. “Ye needn’t speak wi’ mah brother. Ah willnae hae ye!” she spun on her heel and charged toward the door.

  Her statement hit him with the sharp, stinging reverberations of a slap, clearing the haze of his earlier thoughts. He hadn’t considered Lenore might refuse him altogether. Pressing the matter with her brother would only further refute the possibility of a peaceful relationship in future. This couldn’t happen. Heaven help him, he needed her too much, he must find a way to repair things, to make her stay.

  “Lenore, please,” he called after her, his voice a strained wheeze fighting against the constriction of his lungs.

  His blood rushed in deafening waves through his ears, his knees gave up their struggle to maintain him, and he crumpled into his desk chair, eyes aflame and vision blurred.

  “Ye willnae change—”

  The rushing in his ears swallowed her words, or so he assumed. Darkness edged his vision as the awareness of her leaving crept in. The earth fell away beneath him, and he tumbled into the endless spiral which promised a sleepless night.

  An odd thing happened then. Something he never experienced before. Something tugged at him, like the tug of waking from a dream. His awareness rose in hesitant increments until he again grew cognizant of the weight of his limbs and the floor beneath his feet. A calming warmth, dizzying movement, then a soft surface at his back. The ringing in his ears dimmed, the black vignette receded a fraction from his vision, and a golden-haired angel glowed down at him.

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered to the vision, the pain of the memory garbling his words. “As I rode up, a woman stood on the front steps, but I couldn’t tell who it was. For a moment I thought it might be Lenore,” here he paused, allowing his eyes to fall shut. “It frightened me,” he acknowledged, the words dragging reluctant from his throat. “Beyond reason. Beyond anything I can remember. More than any skirmish. In that instant, the possibility of losing her became real, and I couldn’t see any way of maintaining my sanity if that happened.” His voice hitched, and he swallowed, a hot moisture rolling along his temple and into his hairline from the corner of his eye.

  A soft warmth followed the tear, drying it away, and he sighed. Weariness overtook him, and he fell into slumber, content for the first time in ages, the warmth of his angel’s wings pressing in around him.

  Chapter 16

  The dark pressed in around him as he woke. Something had woken him, though he couldn’t say what. More a sense than any true movement or sound. Daniel blinked his eyes open and brought a hand up to rub at them. The room around him remained silent. Odd he hadn’t started awake, but the occasional peaceful waking did occur from time to time he supposed. The cuff of his shirt scraped against the side of his face, and he narrowed his gaze at the offending fabric in confusion. Why had he gone to bed with his shirt on?

  As his eyes adjusted to the dim, he recognized the additional cuff and dark fabric of his jacket covering his arm. Letting his hand fall to his chest, he patted along his torso to his waist. Apparently, he’d gone to bed clothed, save for his boots, which a wiggle of his toes revealed. Propping himself up on his elbows, he surveyed his position. Lying atop the blankets on his bed, a smaller throw blanket covered him, tucked in about the edges as a mother might lightly swaddle her child.

  Beside him, a soft sigh issued from the opposite side of the bed, causing his heart to race as he snapped his head in that direction. A small, distinctly feminine outline broke the continuity of the bedsheets, turned away from him, but displaying a cloud-like collection of curls draped across the pillow. Lenore?

  Frozen in place, Daniel tried desperately to remember what had happened. The events of the night left him distraught, on the verge of madness with his anxious concern for Lenore. He came up here, she followed, he angered her...again. But then what? He fell into his darkness, as he had countless times before. Pushed over into the abyss by a sorrow too raw for him to acknowledge. But this time had been different. There was a dream... the blissful hallucination of an angel...

  He swallowed back a groan. Letting his hands slide along the bed on either side of him, he sank back onto his pillow and scrunched his eyes shut.

  “Are ye awake?” Lenore’s husky, sleep-drunken voice smoothed over him, sending a ripple of awareness over him.

  “Would you prefer to hear a yes or no?”

  The mattress dipped and the blankets shifted as she rolled to face him.

  “You should be in your room,” he regretted the words the moment he said them.

  “Ah hae a question I’ll hae answered, an’ didnae trust ye nae tae avoid me.” A hard edge outlined the hurt in her words. Something ominous lingered under the surface, promising a step he wouldn’t be able to retract once taken.

  “All right.”

  “Dae ye love me, Daniel Langdon?”

  The words issued forth with authority but held a tremor. He considered lying. Her pity would only hinder her freedom in their future if she felt obliged to care for him. He got as far as opening his mouth to deny the sentiment, but his voice failed him. Turning his head on the pillow, he sought out the ethereal glow of moonlight in her eyes. “Yes. I love you, Lenore.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, searching his eyes for deception. A sharp nod, and she turned away from him again, slinking her way out of the bed. He assumed she headed for the door and her own room, but her steps took a sharp turn at the end of the bed, rounding the piece of furniture until she stood beside him.

  “Sit up.” She commanded.

  “What?”

  “Ye heard me. Ye were too blasted heavy fur me tae undress, it was a miracle ye managed tae drag yerself here, Ah thought every moment you’d pitch ontae th’ floor wi’ me in tow an’ crush me. Yer awake enough now, ye can help.”

  He gaped at her. “Thank you, but I’m sure I can manage.”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  “You know how I sleep.”

  “Aye, Ah dae. Sit up.”

  Fully awake, he complied with her mandate. She fell to, immediately tugging at his jacket. He assisted where needed, but the display of her soft and delectable bosom as she leaned in toward him soon drove him to distraction. Only the touch of her fingers at the buttons of his collar offered a momentary reprieve, or rather, a secondary distraction to confuse the brain further.

  “Now listen tae me,” she moved through her task with militant precision, flicking open one button after the next, knuckles skimming over his heating skin. “Ah ken you’ve got doubts about a marriage. But I’ll nae be kept as a contract wife.” She tugged at his shirt, untucking the hem from his trousers. “Th’ memories an’ fears you’re facin’, ye can face wi’ me by yer side or wi’ me helpin’ ye fight, but I’ll nae be left out.”

  “Why?” he wondered aloud as she pulled the shirt sleeve from his arm “Why are you making this your battle?”

  “Because Ah set mah claim on ye first!” she asserted, balling his shirt between her hands and tossing it into a corner. Tears glistened in her eyes as she pressed her lips into a line. “Ye had tae be th’ blasted gentleman even as a boy, didnae ye? Mah heart’s been yours frae th’ day ye boxed ‘at idiot Tyrsdale fur knockin’ down mah basket. I’ve waited too long already fur ye, I’ll nae play second tae specters!”

  Springing to his feet, he kissed her with all the fragile hope and joy her words inspired, needing them to sink through to his soul and echo through the ears of every demon that plagued him. “Do you love me, Lenore?” he whispered at her ear.

  “Aye, ah dae.” She leaned into him, allowing his eager fingers access to the ties of her gown.

  Elegant fingers skimmed over his bare chest, her soft lips pressing along his
neck, collarbone, and shoulder. His fingers forgot their task momentarily, eyelids sinking as he focused his entire awareness on that feather-light touch. But though a part of him wished to remain in this warm and gentle embrace with its half-innocent comfort, a greater part of him opened the gates to urgency and that age-old drive to bind himself to this beauty who healed him without effort, to find perfect completion in the union of two imperfect bodies.

  “You won’t let my memories take me?” he ripped at her gown, his skin aflame and desperate to feel hers pressed against him.

  “Nae, sae help me, I’ll tak’ ye fur mahself.” Her gown fell to the floor, followed in short order by her shift, and he let out a growl of satisfaction as she pressed her bare torso against his, reaching up for another kiss.

  He complied with ardor, his rough hands skimming over her lush, smooth skin, tracing out the curve of her waist and settling greedily on her bottom. He pulled her hips against his, delighting in the faint moan the movement pulled from her lips.

  A rush of heat enveloped him, and he took her face in his hands. “Show me.” Scooping her up, he settled her onto the bed, then quickly divested himself of his trousers and joined her.

  Her automatic inclination had her settling onto her back, but he smiled and curled an arm around her, hugging her close and rolling onto his back. Wide eyes met him once they’d settled and she braced herself up over him.

  “Show me how you’ll take me,” he reiterated, one hand burying into her hair to bring her closer again while the other guided her leg to straddle him. As yet inexperienced, he placed his trust in her stubborn pride, which never allowed for backing down from a challenge.

  He smiled against her neck as she brought her other knee up to his side and arched back to expose more of her neck and chest to his lips. Her body understood what it wanted, and he was more than eager to aid with the details.

  Hands roving, he stroked and kneaded at will, kissing, tasting, and suckling every inch of heated skin she presented within reach of his insatiable mouth. Then her hips curled against him, and he let his head fall back to the pillow with a low groan. The movement served to run the slick folds of her heated core along the entirety of his painfully hardened shaft, setting off an explosion of unrequited desire rippling through him.

  She stilled, propping herself up again, dark, smoldering gaze observing him a moment before a devilish spark ignited in them and she repeated the movement, this time a concentrated, languid stroke of her body against his.

  “You are a witch,” he panted, reaching up in preparation of rolling her beneath him.

  She resisted, taking hold of his wrists and settling his hands beside his head on the pillow. “Aye,” she breathed, “but there’s nae escape fur ye now, an’ Aam nae through takin’ what’s mine.” She dipped her head down to press a kiss to his neck as her hips took up their movement again, sliding and grinding against him in an ever more tumultuous heightening of the storm between them.

  Daniel followed where she led, assisting however she needed him to when she whimpered a command amid her sighs and moans or placed his hand where she desired his touch. He gave himself up to her exploration, fighting back his own hunger in order to experience this new sensation of being embraced and safe.

  The moment came when he regretted his need to take charge, but his body was losing its hold on control in favor of the surge of blissful release.

  Guided by his silent concern, she slowed and brought a hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look up at her. Eyes locked, she smiled down at him and shifted her hips once more, slowly. His eyes widened as she took him into her warmth, watching her struggle to focus as a reflection of his own.

  Once seated, they renewed their movements together, Daniel again lying back to allow Lenore full range of her motions and desires. He took renewed pleasure in the sight of her and the near frantic conjuring of this tempest between them which guaranteed both destruction of what plagued him, and the promise of a new start.

  The chain reaction of Lenore’s completion shuddered through her and into him as his muscles clenched, and he held her, caught between needing to comfort her as her body erupted into a cascade of pulses around his, and desiring the comfort of her nearness as he reacted in kind.

  He held her close long after her frenzied gasps and pants faded into the sedate, even rhythm of sleep. A far corner of his mind warned him not to fall asleep beside her, for fear of an inopportune waking and the potential repercussions thereof. He ran a hand along her arm, tugging the blanket a bit higher over her shoulder and gave a defiant smile. He knew his memories still haunted, likely would his entire life, but this time spent at Dailemor cemented at least one important understanding in his mind. His memories no longer owned him. Neither could he claim complete authority over himself. That sovereignty now belonged to Lenore, and he gave it over willingly.

  Breathing out a contentment which succeeded in evading him for years, he shut his eyes and tightened his arms about the woman he loved.

  Chapter 17

  Lenore straightened from her crouch beside the heavy wooden door of the town hall, rubbing the impression of the keyhole off her ear. “Must ye make sae much noise?” she hissed across to her aunt with a glare, moving with care as her knees cried out against the sudden shift in posture. An explosion of pinpricks erupted down one leg from hip to toes, and she reached one hand out to lean against the door as she shook the offending limb.

  Lily stopped her pacing across the floorboards, returning her niece’s glare. The woman had been pacing since they arrived, despite the warmer temperatures of the day, which encouraged Lenore’s cotton spencer to cling about the chest and neck. Three hours into their forced wait, the constant clack of Lily’s heels wore on Lenore’s fragile hold on her patience. “Ah cannae hear a word they’re sayin,” she huffed, though the complaint in reality had little to do with her aunt’s movements and more to do with the thickness of the door. Grumbling to herself, she crossed her arms in front of her. “This is ridiculous. The estate is ours. Why cannae we be allowed in on th’ proceedin’s?”

  “Ye had best get used tae it,” Lily responded, though her tone indicated an equal amount of irritation with the situation. “Women hae ne’er been considered ay high enough intellectual standin’ tae be present at these things, it would make sense ‘at th’ fool men ay this county would perpetuate ‘at thought an’ keep us locked out ay our own court proceedin’,” stomping across the narrow hall, she flopped herself down on a less than comfortable looking wooden bench in the corner.

  “But they’ve been in there fur hours,” Lenore argued, joining her aunt on the bench. “What in th’ world is takin’ sae long? The matter is simple enough, an’ Daniel can prove what Tyrsdale was up tae wi’ ‘at missing page.

  “Aye, Lily leaned forward in her seat. “It ought tae be easy enough, but frae what ye mentioned, Tyrsdale is a connivin’ little rat. He’s more practiced at lyin’ than a hallway rug. Hae nae doubt he came up wi a bag full ay excuses an’ arguments as tae why ‘at page is missing an’ how Daniel is the untrustworthy one fur havin’ hidden th’ ledger wi’ the Tyrsdale family information in it.”

  Lenore sighed, drooping back into her seat and glaring at the closed door. “Mother should hae taken a switch tae ‘at boy instead ay sendin’ him home fur punishment when he caused us grief.”

  “Aye, but hindsight willnae help us now. We must hope Daniel is as good at negotiation as Tyrsdale is at lyin’.”

  Daniel’s collar itched, but he refused to give any indication of his discomfort. This proceeding dragged on interminably, and his agitation grew exponentially with every passing hour. Not a window displayed so much as a hand’s width of opening, giving the impression, along with the sealed door, some proceeding of mass importance took place. He might resort to snorting his indignation were he not concentrated on conserving energy in the resulting swelter of the room. The light woolen fabric of his coat reminded him he ought to have allowed his mother to order a few
summer linens for him when she requested them for Eric earlier in the year.

  Across from him, seated behind a makeshift desk, sat the magistrate, squinting at the paperwork in front of him as he might a foreign text. To his right, Mr. Brown, eyebrows encroaching upon his hairline, peered over the rim of his spectacles perched at the tip of his nose in an attempt to monitor the clarity of the notes he wrote. The scene smacked of dramatic comedy, Daniel’s least favorite theatrical theme.

  “So in point of fact,” the magistrate mumbled, not lifting his gaze, “the MacAllisters have their own copies of this sale, dating from the time of Henry MacAllister, who the Baron here asserts as the original source of deceit in this land claim...”

  “That’s true,” Tyrsdale pointed out through clenched teeth. At least he appeared equally dissatisfied with the time investment of this proceeding, Daniel took some pleasure in that. “But you recall the personal copies hold no official weight without proof from the county clerk, which we’ve already established is missing.”

  Missing,” Daniel added in, “due to the page’s removal from the ledger, not from lack of recording.”

  “In which case the required proof,” the magistrate continued, rotating an index finger over the documentation. Unfortunately, the movement failed to conjure the understanding the man clearly lacked. An extended pause ensued as the man collected his thoughts, pouncing on the near forgotten ledger beside him. “Would be here, in the ledger brought forward by Captain Langdon and verified by the County Clerk.”

  Tyrsdale seethed in place, sending murderous undertones in the direction of the clerk, who remained unimpressed and shrugged a shoulder.

  “A convenient development, as noted earlier,” Tyrsdale pointed out. “Given that the clerk himself failed to locate the ledger in the shelving.”

  “Which I explained,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “Was my error. I am so accustomed to referencing naval paperwork and researching various vessels and ships that once I found the information I sought I misfiled the ledger. The more important element here,” he continued in a raised tone when Tyrsdale opened his mouth to argue, “is the fact the clerk inspected the ledger and verified its authenticity.”