Devil's Lady

by Patricia Rice

“I’d promise you the sun and the moon and the stars were they mine to give. But I will not offer you lies this time, my cailin. I will promise only what is in me to give. I promise to do nothing to harm you or our son or the name you carry. And I shall do whatever is necessary to clear my past so you need not fear it ever coming to haunt you. I have had time enough to settle the ghosts of my father and his father before him. I can give the past up in exchange for a future. Faith, if you can ever forgive me, you will give me hope for that future. Doesn’t your religion have a prayer for lost souls? You’re the answer to that prayer for me. Tell me what else you need to be happy, my cailin, and I will gladly spend a lifetime seeing that you have anything you desire.”

  Faith rested her cheek against the warmth of Morgan’s coat and let the magic of his hands and the silver of his words take away the pain. She heard the agony behind his lilting speech, knew the price the words cost him. If he promised to do this, he would keep his promise at whatever cost—that she knew, even if it meant giving up his revenge. She she allowed hope a place in her heart.

  “To know you will be safe makes me happy, Morgan. What else could I ask for? Do you have any idea how many nights I have spent wondering where you were, or if you were still in this world? It’s a terrible feeling. I wish that you would not ever put me through it again.”

  Morgan caught her chin and turned her face up to meet his gaze. “I read the note you left, Faith. How much of it did you mean? Can you really forgive me for what I have done? Will you give me a chance to start anew?”

  She loved the way the green of his eyes turned to the gold and brown of the jungle when he looked at her like that. She loved the way his black hair curled at his temple and the base of his neck where it came loose from the ribbon. She loved the strong brown column of his throat, the way his broad hands caressed her spine, the feel of his long length pressed against her. She loved everything about this man, including his sins and crimes. Perhaps that made her a sinner too, but she could not help herself. Bravely she touched the carved curve of his jaw.

  “I meant every word of it, Morgan. Did you think I would be here with you now if I did not? I am your wife, Morgan. I took those vows before God, even if it were not a man of God who asked them of me. I never wanted or intended to be anything else but your wife.”

  Incredulous, Morgan caught Faith’s shoulders and pushed her back so they were not touching. “You do not have to say that because of those ridiculous vows we said before that charlatan. I will not stand between you and happiness. You have a future here that I could never offer you. Dammit, cailin, I am trying to be noble, to show how much I love you by setting you free. You have a whole court of suitors back there more suitable than I. I’ll admit, I’ll wish to tear whomever you choose limb from limb, but I brought the pain upon myself, and I’ll not have you suffer for it. Don’t be a fool, lass. You owe me nothing. Take what I offer while I’m still strong enough to offer it.”

  These weren’t at all the soothing phrases of love Morgan used to murmur when he took her to his bed. These were swords of steel tempered by fire and honed to hurt or protect, depending on which way they turned. Faith stared at him in amazement, read the anguish and the truth in the rigid set of his features, and felt a small ripple of hope and joy.

  “You are a fool, Morgan de Lacy,” she said. “Must I hit you over the head with your own weapons to make you see the light? You are a rogue and a scoundrel. You deserve hanging for what you have done. Would it be of any use, I’d punch you again. But you are my rogue and scoundrel, and I’ll have none other. Do you think one of those men back there could take your place? Do not let me feed your enormous arrogance any more than is necessary. You can declare our marriage null and void. You can go elsewhere to seek a wife if that is what you wish. But upon my soul, Morgan de Lacy, do not go ordering me to do the same! I am married. I need no other husband. The one I have is trouble enough.”

  A grin spread across Morgan’s face as he regarded the ferocity in her glare. “And it be trouble he is, that one,” he agreed mockingly. “You would be wise to give him up. If he loved you at all, he’d leave you be. But he can’t. Selfish bastard that he is, all he can think of is the sweetness of your lips and how long it has been since he kissed them. He’s no fool, I think. He’ll not be looking elsewhere for what he has right here.”

  Faith caught her breath at the hint of brogue and the fire in his eyes. She didn’t know what she had done. She was quite certain it wasn’t what she had set out to do. But when Morgan wrapped her in his arms, it felt right, and she wouldn’t surrender her place for all the gold in the world.

  The touch of his lips brought remembered fire, intensified by months of longing. Faith slid her hands about Morgan’s neck, clinging to the strength of his shoulders as the fire licked along her mouth and tongue and began to spread with the gales of a whirlwind. She felt Morgan stiffen, begin to pull away as the realization of what was happening hit him, but it was too late by far. The fire whipped around them, lashing them together, and instead of pulling away, he lowered her to the blanket.

  His hands roved as their mouths sought the place where they had left off, filling the months of absence with an urgency that neither could deny. The fastening of Faith’s bodice came undone, and she arched joyously into Morgan’s bare hand as he slid it beneath the layers of cloth. His caress was gentle, learning the fullness of her new curves, and she gave a shattered cry when he finally lowered his head to kiss her breast. When Morgan lifted his head to look down on her, Faith nearly cried with the tenderness of that look.

  Morgan returned his mouth to hers while he kneaded her flesh, exulting in the pleasure he had so long denied himself. When Faith’s fingers feverishly worked at the ties of his shirt and the fastenings of his waistcoat, Morgan felt an explosion of joy. Never had she come to him with such eagerness. The touch of her fingers drove hot shards of desire through him.

  This wasn’t what he had intended when he brought her out here, but nothing less than death could stop him now. When Faith found the buttons to his breeches, Morgan moaned against her throat, buried his kisses in her softness, and pulled her skirts up to bring her closer.

  Hot breezes blew across their naked skin as clothing tumbled in jumbled piles. Faith cried out in welcome as Morgan’s probing fingers explored her flesh, and she rose urgently against him. Daringly she reached out to stroke him, urging him on.

  “By all the saints, cailin!” Morgan gasped. “I’m fair ready to burst with need. Touch me like that, and I’ll not wait to pleasure you.” He grasped her hand, returning it to his chest as he gazed down into eyes slumberous with desire. Just that look made his loins leap, and he bent to kiss her swollen lips one more time.

  “Please, Morgan,” she begged against his mouth. Shamelessly she arched upward to encourage him.

  Morgan eagerly obliged. With one swift stroke he joined them, and Faith’s thrust brought him home. The need was too great, too strong, and he plunged swiftly, surely, bringing her to the peaks and nearly undoing himself in the process. When he felt her cry of pleasure and release, he hurriedly withdrew, spilling his seed down her side.

  Faith wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Why did you do that?” she whispered, pushing back the shirt he had not quite removed.

  Morgan nuzzled her ear, drinking in the sensuous scent of her skin before pushing up on his hands to gaze down on her. “It’s something I should have done long ago, had I loved you as I ought. There will be time enough for making babies later. I’d not wear you out, lass.”

  “I’m nursing, you need not worry about such,” Faith remonstrated, her gaze tracing the line of curls down his chest.

  A smile flickered across Morgan’s face as he realized where her interest lay, and his body stirred in response. But now was neither the time nor the place to continue this dalliance, not until he had assured their future.

  Sliding to one side, he pushed at her skirts to hide temptation. “Tell me you have never seen wom
en with a string of children not more than a year apart. Then tell me they didn’t nurse their brats. I watched my mother swell with child year after year, only to lose them one after another. I think we’ve proved your fertility and my virility well enough for now. I want you, lass, but I mean to keep you for a long, long time. For that I’ll have to learn temperance.”

  Faith fumbled at her bodice while Morgan drew on his breeches. “What are we to do, then?” she asked boldly.

  Morgan fastened the last button and bent to press a kiss to her reddened cheek. “Get married.”

  “Married?” Faith stared at him in bewilderment. “We are married.”

  “In a church. With a proper man of the cloth. In front of witnesses. I would have the whole world know you’re mine beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

  “A church?” Staggered, Faith tried to grapple with what he was saying. “I don’t believe there is a Catholic church, Morgan. I can accept the Anglican services, but can you?”

  Morgan grasped her shoulders and gave her a happy kiss. “If you say you can find God in the good Church of England, then I’ll take your word for it. He is not likely to accept me back in the fold so easily, no matter which church the vows are said in. I mean only to impress mortals.”

  “Morgan!” Faith escaped his hold and stood up to brush out her skirts. “Don’t be sacrilegious. Besides, how can we marry in front of all the town as if we were never married before? I’ll not have George called a bastard.”

  Morgan rose and caught her waist and turned her chin so she had to face him. He was grinning with a happiness. “Dear heart, we have our marriage papers to prove he is no bastard. We can adopt him legally under my rightful name. We can hire Miles and a dozen lawyers to make everything as proper as you can desire. We can pretend I am your second husband. It matters not to me. I just want the whole damned town to know you’re mine.” His eyes darkened sternly and he asked, “You will marry me?”

  She knew she would, but she stood there uncertainly, watching the pattern of emotions in his eyes. “Are you certain, Morgan? I could not bear it if you left me again. Or if you found another woman. If you are doing this just for George...”

  Morgan pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her hair. “Never again, my love. I’ll never let you go again. I may give you reasons for regret. I’m not a patient man, nor always a rational one, but you can always trust in my love. If that can be enough for you...”

  Faith breathed a sigh of joy and reached up to pull his head down to meet her lips. “I love you, Morgan. All I ask in return is that you love me too. Will you do that?”

  He whispered against her lips, “I crossed an ocean for you, lass. I’m after thinkin’ this love business is a terrible crimp in a man’s style. But if it’s words you need to hear, there’ll be no end to them. I love you, Faith, my cailin alainn, my wicked bean sidhe. I’ll love you till the moon turns blue, till the sun rises in the west, till God accepts me into eternity. Say you’ll love me too.”

  Instead, she giggled and found another use for her highwayman’s silver tongue.

  In the harbor, not many miles away, a ship from England found dock.

  Chapter 33

  “We can have the banns declared this Sunday. That should give your Mrs. Needham time enough to find someone to take your place.”

  Morgan helped Faith from her horse outside the inn. The afternoon was drawing late, and he knew she worried about the babe, but he had to confirm their decision before either of them thought better of it. Already he was thinking he was robbing her of the future she deserved, but the idea of his Faith in another man’s arms quelled that notion.

  Faith caught Morgan’s arms to steady herself and stared at him as if he had lost his senses. “Take my place? I’ll not be giving up my place. We needs must live on something, and I’m quite happy here.”

  They had to enter the lobby when someone stepped out and held the inn door open for them. They continued their argument despite curious stares.

  “By all the saints, Faith, you can’t expect me to let you keep working around all your suitors after we’re married! I’m not a pauper yet. I’ll find us a place to stay and you can stay home and take care of George.”

  Faith jerked her arm loose and hurried to the stairs. She could hear her son’s hungry cries. She turned at the steps to glare down at Morgan. “We have a perfectly good place to stay here. We can pay rent and take a larger suite.”

  As she hurried up, Morgan grasped the banister and shouted after her, “By all that is holy, Faith O’Neill, you’ll do as I say when the day comes!”

  Echoing faintly, but very distinctly, from the second-floor landing came the words, “Go to hell, Morgan de Lacy!”

  Grinning, knowing her spirit to be unharmed, Morgan turned to discover their audience. Astounded faces stared at him accusingly, but he rose to the occasion in grand style. With a gesture to the taproom, he declared, “We’re to be married, gentlemen. Drinks are on me!”

  From the doorway came a single raucous cheer, and before any other could raise a voice in protest, Morgan turned to greet the newcomer. Finding a familiar red head, his grin disappeared, and he elbowed his way through the onlookers to grasp his collar. “I have a bone to pick with you, Tobias, my lad.” He shoved him into Faith’s office and slammed the door closed.

  Toby grinned. “The blithering idiot returns, by Jove! It’s about time.”

  With a growl, Morgan shoved him to the wall. “I ought to have your neck for taking her away from me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  Toby shrugged as best he could under the circumstances. “She would have come without me if I hadn’t.”

  Morgan felt the truth of that, and he reluctantly lowered the lad. “Damn your dirty hide, you could have at least told me.”

  Toby shook himself free and straightened his collar. “Could I, now? And how would I be doin’ that? Those vaunted circles are not for the likes of me.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Morgan clasped him on the back and shoved him toward the door. “Come have a drink with the rest of us. She’s agreed to have the banns said and do it proper this time, that’s all that matters now.”

  Toby beamed from ear to ear as they fell out into the lobby to see Faith’s suitors lingering curiously. Flinging caution to the winds, Toby pounded Morgan’s back and swung his hand in introduction. “Gentlemen, meet Black Jack O’Neill, Faith’s late husband!”

  Rage and astonishment filled the room. Fortunately, Faith was safely ensconced in her attic, contentedly feeding her son while the inn exploded into turmoil.

  ***

  “I don’t know why in hell you had to follow me. I can take care of the bitch without your help. This is none of your affair in any case.” Thomas Montague strode angrily across the crude dock and down to the barren expanse of land and cheap shacks that was his first sight of the colonies.

  “I just thought I’d make things easier for you, dear cousin. ’Tis a pity I’m a mite heavy to throw overboard. That storm would have made quite an effective excuse.” Edward Montague carried his large form agilely down the platform and looked about with interest.

  The heat was oppressive, but he merely mopped his brow as he looked about for some form of transportation. Surely this was not the much-trumpeted capital of Virginia. There had to be civilization somewhere.

  “That was an accident, I tell you. You caught me by surprise. I didn’t invite you to come along,” Thomas grumbled.

  “As her closest of kin, it is my right to see to my niece’s safety. That jackanapes thief-taker cannot be trusted any more than you, dear cousin. He could have sold the information to half of London.”

  “Safety, my foot and eye! You want her out of the way as much as I do. The old man has his spoon half in the wall and is twanging it for all it is worth.”

  “It’s of no matter to you any longer. He settled all he intends on you when you married your doxy. That was a damn-fool thing to do, Thomas. Did you really
think he’d believe that overblown strumpet was George’s daughter?”

  Edward waited languidly for a cart and driver ambling down the road. The colonial hayseed driver appeared more asleep than awake, but the conveyance looked strong enough to carry his weight. With irritation, Edward swung his cane and ignored his cousin’s furious pacing.

  “You had better ideas? You let the conniving highwayman get away. You didn’t know about the book. You didn’t even find the right damned lawyer. If it weren’t for Lettice, we’d still be searching for her.”

  “We are still searching for her, lumpkin.” Bored with this two-month-long tirade, Edward signaled the driver. “It should be interesting to see which of us finds her first.”

  From the safety of his hiding place on the ship, a lean figure listened to this perpetual bickering with increasing boredom. More than once he’d been tempted to shove them both overboard, but that wasn’t what he’d been paid to do. He wasn’t even certain he was being paid to be here, but there were times when a man had to use his own initiative. He watched the Montagues rumble away before advancing to the deck and signaling the captain.

  As if by magic, two excellent horses appeared from behind one of the shacks, and the lean man and the captain were galloping up the dusty road at an entirely different angle from the cart and its noble passengers.

  ***

  “You shouldn’t be in here. ’Tis not seemly,” Faith admonished as Morgan settled on her narrow bed. His long masculine frame filled the meager mattress, but his shoulder provided an effective pillow as she leaned back and adjusted the infant at her breast.

  With his arm about her shoulder, Morgan ran his fingers across Faith’s smooth cheek, then did the same to his son’s. The infant scarcely moved from his hungry quest, and Morgan grinned at such concentration. “We’re married. None can object.”

  Faith closed her eyes and tried to drink in all those things she had missed for so long. The hard muscles of his chest and arm held her securely, and the masculine musk of his skin aroused her senses. But it was the seductive undercurrent of Morgan’s voice that sent gooseflesh down her arms. She shivered and waited for his fingers to wander farther.