As the babe sighed and squirmed and drifted off to sleep, Morgan reached to caress a silken black curl at his nape. “Would you let me hold him?”
Faith was uncertain as to his reasons for his presence, and she ought to distrust his intentions, but she had spent a year of her life learning to love and trust this man. Wrapping the blankets around the child, supporting his head so as not to disturb his slumber, Faith lifted him into Morgan’s large palms.
Picking up one of the cloths on the bedside table, she folded it and put it over Morgan’s shoulder as he stared in wonderment at his firstborn. “Put him over your shoulder and rub his back gently. He gets bubbles in his stomach from eating so quickly.”
The large man holding his tiny son presented an incongruous image, but he did it with the gentleness that Faith knew Morgan possessed. She had feared him at first, with his large size and frightening pistols and rough ways, but she had learned to see beyond the outer man, to the man who loved life and craved the innocent. It was to this inner man that she offered her life and love.
“He’s so damned tiny, I fear I’ll break him.” Morgan adjusted the frail bundle to his shoulder and attempted rubbing the small back with two large fingers. The infant hiccuped and settled down as if he belonged there.
“Oh, he’s quite strong. He can even lift his head, and Bess says he is long for his age. He’ll be as big as you one of these days.” Without the protection of the babe, Faith fumbled at the fastenings of her gown to cover herself.
“What have you named him?” Morgan looked down in surprise at the babe’s belch.
Faith laughed at his reaction, then nervously laced her fingers. “George Morgan O’Neill. I did not know what to do about the ‘de Lacy.’ The marriage papers...”
Morgan looked up. “I’ll have Miles correct the marriage papers. O’Neill is my mother’s name, and it is a fine one, but I would have him bear the de Lacy name too.”
Faith nodded. Now that the first surprise was over, she feared to question further. Were the marriage papers legitimate? Had he had them annulled? Was she still married?
“Why are you here?” she asked.
The time had come to talk, but Morgan seemed strangely reluctant to do so. He lifted his son from his shoulder and cradled him in the crook of his arm so he could admire the tiny, perfectly formed fingers and toes. “Because I had nowhere else to go. Will you find it difficult to accept my presence in the same town?”
Faith shook her head. “Had I thought you would come with me, I would have asked you. I thought you meant to stay in London.”
“Perhaps I will again another day. I had need to see how you fared, and that cursed Miles wouldn’t tell me a thing. I will have his head for not telling me of the child.”
“He didn’t know of him until recently.” Growing nervous, Faith took the sleeping infant from Morgan’s hands and rose to place him in the cradle. “It would be better if we discussed this another time. It is late, and Bess will wonder if my light is still on when she goes by.”
He watched her cross the room, then rose abruptly and strode to the door, hat in hand. “We’ll need to talk. Surely you must see that. When may I see you again?”
Faith clasped her hands in front of her and met his gaze with trepidation. He practically filled her tiny room. Indeed, his head was bent to keep from bumping the rafters. This was no place for a man like Morgan. He needed open spaces and room to expand his enormous energies in. Sadness crept around her heart. “It is difficult to say. I stay very busy. Could I send you word?”
Morgan nodded curtly. “I stay at White’s. I am using my own name now, but I’ll not mention the ‘O’Neill.’ I will not harm you if I can prevent it.”
Faith breathed a little easier. She knew he would not intentionally harm her, but Morgan had a temper and a strong will. If he had chosen to make himself known, he could have wreaked havoc with her simple life. She was grateful that he had chosen to be reasonable. “I know you would not harm me, Morgan, but it has been a long time, and I’m still...” She hesitated over an appropriate word.
“You needn’t spell it out, little one. I play the part of bastard well, and you’re well rid of me, but there is the small matter of the child. We will have to work something out.”
“Yes, of course.” Dully she watched as Morgan nodded farewell and walked out.
He had come for the child, then, and not for herself. She should be relieved, but tears flowed freely down her face. He had not even asked to stay, or made any motion to touch her. Whatever had been between them had died. She should have known that all along, but in some small part of her heart she had clung to her fantasies.
She would be a long time recovering from the blow.
***
She heard the praises of the “Frenchman” the first thing next day as the young lawyer dug hungrily into his breakfast. It took a moment before Faith realized he spoke of Morgan. As Acton carried in a load of flour, he overheard their conversation and added his curiosity to the reason for the noble stranger’s presence in Williamsburg. Faith stared at him in disbelief and turned away as they began to speculate on the man’s background.
Morgan could turn the heads of every woman and sharpen the wits of every man in town did he but put his mind to it. Even as a stranger, his was a dangerous presence. There was something mysterious and aloof about him that caught people’s interest, and he only served to stimulate it more when he spoke. Morgan had a silver tongue. She had forgotten that. Damn his unreasonable pride, he could be anything he wanted to be. Why did he choose to be a thief?
She wouldn’t have little George learn his father had been hanged for thievery. If Morgan intended to claim his son, he would have to change his ways. She didn’t know how she would force him to it. For her own sake, she had never tried, but for her son she would run Morgan out of town on a rail.
With that determination made, Faith went about her tasks with a new fervor. She would send for Morgan and tell him in no uncertain terms that he had to turn to honest trade if he were to stay here. That should send him scurrying back where he belonged. Perhaps it was cruel to ask him to give up his son, but he had been cruel in sending her away. She had paid the price; now he must pay his.
After the noon meal was served and George was fed and sleeping quietly, Faith sent word to White’s that she would be available for a few hours. She didn’t expect Morgan to reply immediately. She had already been told that he had been invited to speak in the House on certain matters currently before Parliament and that he had breakfasted with the Speaker.
Morgan was a rogue through and through, portraying himself as a gentleman to these trusting people. But at one time he had been a gentleman, if his words could be believed. And perhaps the London society he had been keeping these last months had given him some insight into the laws governing the colonies. She ought to give him benefit of the doubt, but at the moment she was feeling ill-disposed toward such leniency.
When Morgan appeared within the half-hour, he caught Faith by surprise. She was working diligently over the prior day’s receipts in her office, and his shadow caused her to look up. He was dressed to the inch in a gentleman’s fashion. Holding his braid-trimmed cocked hat beneath his arm, he wore his black locks unpowdered, but the jade green of his frock coat and the striped silk of his embroidered waistcoat erased all hint of the highwayman. Without being told, she knew he had done this for her. Yesterday, for himself, he had worn black as usual.
Faith stood and glanced down at her plain brown gown and simple neckerchief. “I hope you did not wish to go somewhere fashionable. I thought you only wished a word with me.”
“I do, and you know you would be lovely in my eyes were you wearing nothing.” Morgan grinned and held out his arm. “But I would prefer a little privacy. This place seems overfull of your admirers. Should we come to, say, a little disagreement, I fear I would find a knife at my neck and a gun at my back.”
Remembering one or two of their “disagreemen
ts,” Faith had to agree with Morgan’s assessment of the situation. And they were almost certainly going to come to a disagreement when she gave him his ultimatum. She nodded and took his arm. She would have this over once and for all. She did not fear Morgan’s temper, but he had reason to fear hers.
Faith gasped in recognition as she stepped outside the inn to find not only Morgan’s stallion but also the little Arabian mare she had sold to buy her passage. “Dolly!” she cried, running to pet the mare’s nose and stroke the lovely proud neck. She turned inquiring eyes to Morgan as he came up behind her.
“Dolly? That is a ridiculous name for an animal with such illustrious ancestry. You could at least call her Elizabeth or Anne.”
Faith made a face at his mockery. “How did you find her? And why did you bring her here? I thought you wished to sell all your horses. That’s what you told Toby.”
“That’s another topic open for discussion. When I find that redheaded scoundrel, I shall thrash him within an inch of his life, but I prefer more pleasant topics for today’s outing. Let us at least leave town peaceably.”
Faith caught her breath as Morgan grasped her by the waist and threw her into the saddle. She had forgotten how firm and strong his hold could be. As she adjusted her leg around the sidesaddle, she covertly watched Morgan mount the stallion. She really ought to be more afraid of him. Perhaps he was more lean than large, but she knew all too well the muscles rippling beneath the dandy’s coat and lace. When he easily brought the restive stallion under control, she caught her breath at the grace of his movements. She was out of her mind to think she would ever get the better of him.
And she had agreed to a few hours alone with this man? She would be lucky to walk away unscathed. She ought to call a halt to this prime fallacy right now, while she still could.
Chapter 32
The Virginia heat encompassed them as they paced the horses down a country lane shaded with old elms and oaks. Faith regretted wearing the heavy broadcloth gown and discreetly eased open her neckerchief to allow more air to bathe her throat. With his incredible sense of timing, Morgan turned to catch her at it, and the light flaring in his eyes sent a sharp thrill to her middle.
“Let us not go too far,” she reminded him. “I must be back when George awakes.”
Her tone didn’t wipe the grin from Morgan’s lips. “Whatever milady requests. You know the area better than I. Will the owner of this fine property object if we rest in the shade of yon grove?”
“I cannot see why he should, since he has obviously chosen to let the land lie fallow. We won’t be disturbing anything.”
Morgan gave her a shrewd look and led the horses off the road to the shady protection of the trees. A brook babbled across round pebbles and beneath the wands of a willow tree, and thick tufts of grass provided an excellent seat to escape the sun. He climbed down and removed the blanket he had brought. Then he turned to assist Faith in dismounting.
Faith eyed the blanket with distrust. She had reason to remember a blanket in another time and place, beneath the stars on a spring night. She refused to be seduced as easily as that child.
She walked to the brook’s edge and bent to pick up a stone or two to skip across the water. “You wished to talk?”
Morgan caught her by the shoulders. “I do. Just talk, Faith. Come sit down beside me.”
“I am fine here.” She shrugged off his encroaching hands. “Where would you like to begin?”
“By seeing your eyes. Faith, look at me. I do not mean you harm, I promise. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to be this close without touching? At least give me the pleasure of your face.”
Faith turned questioningly to find Morgan with his fists clenched at his side, his dark brows pulled together in an expression of pain. Surprised, she took a step backward. “I did not think you wished to see me again. I am trying to make this easy for you.”
Morgan took a deep breath and pointed to the blanket. “Sit. It will be much easier if one of us is sitting still.”
Faith had to smile at that. His restless pacing was much a part of her memory of him. Spreading her coarse skirts, she took a place on the blanket and waited. Morgan nodded a curt approval and found a tree trunk to lean against. He had thrown his hat to the blanket, but the dappled shade served to conceal much of his features as he stared down at her, arms crossed over his chest.
“I sent you away for your own safety, Faith. And for your own good. I will be the first to admit that you are better off without me. I need only to look at how well you fare now to justify what I did. Were it not for me, you could have your choice of husbands and live in the company of good people, with all the wealth and comfort that you deserve.”
“I think we are past the stage of counting what we owe to each other,” Faith replied. “There were choices I could have made all along. You always gave me that. It was I who decided we must marry, and I did so with every intention of its being permanent. I do not blame you in any way for that.”
“And it was I who forced you into consummating the marriage, thus ensuring that you could not escape, particularly now that a child has come of it. That was not a fair way to thank you for saving my unworthy neck. Don’t let me off so easily, Faith. I took advantage of your goodness, and now you are suffering for it. That was not what I intended. Why did you not take the bank draft Miles offered you? That was your money, from your family. It belonged to you, free and clear.”
Faith folded her hands in her lap. Miles had tried to explain that to her, but she had been unwilling to listen. She knew Morgan had somehow forced her family to pay that sum, but she had no wish to be purchased by anyone. Or to buy off anyone’s guilt. She shook her head. “The money is meaningless. Perhaps it will someday ensure that your son has a proper education. I do not need it for myself.”
Morgan clenched his hands and stood away from the tree. “Do you have some desire to make a martyr of yourself? Look at me, Faith, and tell me you don’t wish to have pretty dresses, a home of your own, and all the little things you’ve never had. The income from that money would buy you all that. You wouldn’t have to work for others. You could hire nursemaids for our son and go out and about a little. Why give up all that for some stupid sense of pride?”
Faith glared up at him. “Will you quit towering over me like some vengeful bird of prey? And don’t tell me about pride. I have no lock on the world’s sum of pride. Who is it that has destroyed his life and nearly had himself hanged for pride? I have learned to humble myself to survive. What I will not do is turn my back on what is right anymore. Taking that money is not right. It is not mine to take. I lost our first child, Morgan, because I had turned my head away from God. I’ll not ever do that again.”
Hearing the tears and anguish in her voice, Morgan dropped to his knees and caught her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Those huge eyes he had reason to remember so well swam in tears, and pain shot through him. The loss of that child still stayed with her, then. That memory would always be between them. He touched her hair gently.
“I don’t think God could be so cruel as to punish you in that way. If I believed that, I would have quit believing in Him long ago. I cannot believe I or my family did anything to deserve what happened to us. People did that to us, not God. If anyone was responsible for your losing the child, it was myself for not taking better care of you. Lay the blame on my shoulders, Faith, not yours or God’s. You are all that is good and right. I am the one who has taken the road to damnation. I made that choice long ago. I would not have you tainted by it.”
Faith found her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “Then do not taint your son with it either, Morgan. I came here to protect him. Let me do so.”
Morgan released her shoulders and fell back on his heels. That was the blow he had been expecting. She asked that he give up his son, but he could not do it. He shook his head dazedly. “Do not ask more than I can offer, Faith. He is my son. I have some right to see him grow. He is all the fa
mily I may ever have.”
Clenching her hands, Faith met his gaze. “Then don’t destroy him, Morgan. Would you have him hear his father branded a thief? Would you have him live in the shadow of his father’s corpse hanging from a gallows? By all that is good and holy, Morgan, leave us be!”
She may as well have lifted those fists to his jaw. Morgan fell back beneath the blow of her words, watching her with a kind of desperation. It wasn’t just George he wanted. She was his family. She was his home. And she was sending him away. As he had done to her. Clasping his hand over his eyes, Morgan steadied himself, then rose and walked to the brook.
“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind? I know what I did was cruel, but at the time, I thought it necessary. I have no more to offer you now than I did then, but I know now that I cannot continue to fight a losing battle. My home and my family in Ireland are gone, and I can never win them back. What has been done to my people and my lands is wrong, but I cannot right it with more wrongs. You and our son are all that I know that has any meaning anymore. Don’t take away all my hopes, Faith.”
“Were it myself, I would not take anything from you, Morgan. But I must protect George. Would you have him know his father to be a thief?”
Morgan drew a deep breath and turned around to face her. “No, I would not. If I turn king’s evidence on the thieves in London and clear my name, would you allow me to stay?”
Faith rose from the blanket and held out her hand. “I do not know the laws, Morgan. I only wish to keep our son free from any taint. If you can promise me that, I will not deny you his company.”
Morgan grasped Faith’s hand and pulled her toward him, his need for her beyond all sense and logic. She didn’t resist for long, and he held her slight figure clasped firmly against him. He could feel the beating of her heart, knew the softness of her breasts, drank in the richness of her intoxicating scent. He pressed a kiss to her hair and stroked her back the way he used to do.
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