Cachet (32 page)

"I do so love it when you ask that," she laughed. "I think I like you best of all when you're angry, Lion."

"Stop it," Morgan snapped. The dog replied in kind. Morgan swore under his breath and forced himself to retreat a few steps and speak more calmly. "I would prefer you didn't say such things to me."

"As you wish, sir." She held up a document. "Besides the granary, I purchased the note against the Crowshaven Inn."

"You?" he gaped. "To think I suspected Boyd! I never dreamt you'd—You're not going to
buy
me, Richelle."

"Why would I need to buy my own husband? You married me twice. I don't see why you've chosen to hide that fact."

"You don't want this union between us. You lied to be rid of me. Even that last night, when you swore you'd follow me, I knew you weren't telling me the truth. I felt it."

"It
was
the truth," she insisted. "I did come. So I was delayed, what did you plan to do, divorce me? Forget about me, as if I'd never existed?"

"How can I forget?" he demanded harshly. "Tell me how! God knows, I've tried. I fill my gut with ale and brandy trying to blot out your image, but still you haunt me. I can't eat, can't sleep, can't bloody think half the time!"

She rose to her feet. The dog moved too, keeping himself pressed tightly against her legs. Richelle's voice was soft and beguiling. Morgan's chest ached with longing. He desperately wanted to hold her and kiss her.

"I'm trying to understand what will make you happy, Morgan. I can tear up the promissory note, sign over the granary and leave. Your assets will be restored. Your life will be back to what it was before I ever came to Crowshaven." She faltered slightly on the next words. "If you want a divorce, I'll contact my attorney. That's not what I want—"

"Nay, you want me bleeding by the side of this road!"

"Why would I want that? Do you believe I've deliberately set out to bring you pain?"

"You don't need me, Richelle."

"God, I need you more than ever! Didn't you read my letter?" She began to cry. "
My
feelings haven't changed. I waited for you to write back. I expected some reply, but none came."

Morgan stared at her. She genuinely looked distraught. He reached inside his coat and pulled out the sealed envelope. "I never opened it."

"Never opened it? What on earth's wrong with you? You thought I took the time to write, but had nothing to say?"

She sounded furious with him, which was a good sign, to Morgan's way of thinking.
The granary and promissory note might have been guilt. She's compulsive about debts.
But anger meant he still mattered to her.

She turned her back to him. Morgan saw her shoulders moving.
Tears over him?
He tried to ignore his rapid heartbeat and the soaring hope he felt.

"I was afraid you'd written to say you'd changed your mind about leaving America," he explained. "As you pointed out rather sharply, I couldn't fully comprehend your ties to the mansion and Pennsylvania. Compared to what little I can offer, I understood why you would make that choice. I just couldn't bear to read your words in defense of it."

"Read that letter and tell me again you've so little to offer," she sniffled.

He didn't look up for a long time. His question barely reached her ears. "You write here of a surprise. Does that mean you resolved the problem of your father's property?"

She turned around, her voice flat. "I deeded it to Sheila."

"Bloody Sheila! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Perhaps because you were too busy seeing the house and my father's money as obstacles between us."

He edged closer, eyeing the dog. "Maybe I was. Richelle, why did you stay so long? Don't give me that balderdash about ailing digestion. Something was wrong. Why couldn't you trust me and tell me what it was? If you still care, as your letter claims, why come here now and speak of divorce?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "Didn't I have good reason for being Rachel Cordell?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "What was the good reason you couldn't sail when I did?"

"I told you a dozen times how much you mean to me! How dare you think I'd just throw everything away? I sent you back here to take care of your business interests, but you didn't even do that! It sickened me to hear you've become a drunken wastrel!" Tears streamed openly down her cheeks.

"Piss on whomever says that. And stop crying," he barked. Her words struck at his heart. For the first time in years, he felt deeply ashamed of his own behavior.

"Maybe I was jumbled in my thinking, Richelle, but it's easy enough to become confused when there's been so little time between a man and his wife and so much distance and mistrust. You never completely trusted me after my deception on the vessel."

"You know I've trusted you since. You knew where and who I was even before you arrived in Washington. You could have left me at the brothel and taken the next ship home, or told the authorities where to find me. But I knew you wouldn't. I gave myself to you completely, Morgan! You've taken me in ways no other man ever has or ever will. And I'm— If you only knew how wrong you are."

He wiped a sleeve across his face. "I'm not masquerading as a bachelor. I just can't face the whole village learning I couldn't keep a wife."

"Morgan, I hated sending you away that day, but if I'd revealed the truth, you never would have set foot aboard that ship. You needed to come home. I couldn't let you lose everything!"

"Tell me your dark truth now."

"Do you still love me?" she asked softly. "Whatever you think I've done, please tell me honestly. I know I've hurt you. I can't deny that. But I swear I've been faithful and I still love you. Can you say the same to me?"

She read the pain he tried to deny in the depths of his eyes. "I shouldn't," he replied slowly. "You've deceived me, eluded me, torn my pride asunder. But I've lost my soul to you, Richelle. No amount of drink or time can wash you out of my blood. I never had a choice. I love you so much it's killing me."

She wiped a tear from her chin. "I've hurt you, but you've also hurt yourself. Don't make
me
the reason you drink to the point of destroying your life. You know I'd never want that. I fought to preserve your life. There has to be more making you so desperately unhappy."

"I bloody hate that house," he lashed out. "I never should have gone back, but I told myself you'd be there with me. Everyone who ever lived there is gone, even you. I hate that accursed cottage! I hate myself when I'm inside it!"

She reached to lay her fingertips against his lips. "Don't talk like that. I need you to stop all this and get back to your old self again. I need you to be strong. You're not alone any more, Morgan. I'm here." Her arms went around his neck.

"Jesus, but I've missed you," he groaned, kissing her passionately. His arms slid beneath her cloak. He abruptly stiffened and broke their embrace.

"Damn you! You had that doctor lie to me.
You
lied to me! The most important thing in my life, and you frigging lied to me! You're right. I'd never have sailed if I'd known—and I
should
have! I had every right, damn you. That's my child, too. How could you do this to me?"

The dog rose and curled its lips back in an ugly snarl. Richelle talked softly until the animal stretched out and lowered its head onto its paws. Morgan went to stand next to Phantom. He reached to stroke the animal's neck, unable to look at his wife. He didn't want her to see how strongly her deceit had affected him, how deeply the pain cut.

Her voice came quietly from somewhere behind him. "Remember when we spoke of the future and your son? You said he'd need a good education to follow you into trade. But how could he, if you'd lost everything? You wouldn't accept my financial help. I helped the only way I could. I know my decision seems cruel on the surface.

"But it also let each of us safeguard what was most precious to you. You have everything you did when we first met, and more. You have my love and a child on the way. If that's not what you want...if you tell me to leave, you won't see your son. I'll take him back to America and raise him without you."

He vehemently shook his head. "You'll stay. There'll be no divorce." He turned to face her. "You and the babe are all right?"

"We're both fine. This baby has his father's strength and determination. He kicks ferociously." She gave him a radiant smile.

Morgan stared into the distance, his throat tight. When he finally spoke again, his voice was still rough with emotion. "Your motive was honorable. I do see that. But you violated my trust as well as my direct command that you never again put yourself in jeopardy to protect me."

"It wasn't the same."

"Nay, even worse. This time you placed my son's life in jeopardy along with your own! The choice of whether I stayed in America wasn't yours to make. Deciding between the demands of my business and needs of my family is my responsibility. You had no right to keep your pregnancy from me." He squinted in the fading sunlight. "You wore that cloak so I wouldn't know the instant I saw you. For God's sake, Richelle, didn't you think I'd want it?"

"I didn't want a child binding you to my side if...if you no longer cared. You're too easily ruled by your sense of duty and honor."

"But that child is mine, thus I
do
have a duty. I gave you my word to be at your side when your time comes. As you honor debts, I honor promises. Let's go home." He walked Phantom to where Richelle stood and lifted her crosswise onto the saddle. Her eyes were soft as they searched his face.

"No more riding astride." He swung up behind her and settled her across his lap, his whole body rigid. "The hound can come along. But I warn you, if I ever feel his teeth, he'll find himself back out here chasing squirrels."

Morgan insisted they stop at Dr. Rowe's house. He stood beside Richelle as the elderly physician examined her. Richelle blushed when he pronounced everything normal and cautioned the couple against marital relations after the next several weeks.

Morgan had been so stonily quiet during the ride, Richelle wasn't sure there was any need for such a warning. She wasn't sure there would be any further sexual intimacy between them. She hadn't forgotten Morgan's fierce pride or how unforgiving he could be.

Lorella was already at the cottage, and had prepared Morgan's favorite, beef stew with dumplings. He greeted her stiffly and ate slowly, his eyes on Richelle. She'd been too nervous to eat that day, but was ravenous now. She downed two helpings of stew with a large glass of milk.

"Appreciate what you've done for us, Lorella," Morgan announced as he left the table. "We'll discuss your wages in the morning. Expect you're due an increase. Madam and I are retired for the evening. Have breakfast ready at eight."

He started up the stairs without a glance for Richelle. She obediently followed, but paused when she found him waiting outside the master bedchamber. He gestured for her to precede him. Her eyes misted over when she spotted new bedside tables and a pair of porcelain lamps. Lamps with pink flowers on their upper globes.

"You weren't sure I'd come, yet you bought these?"

"An impulse purchase." His voice was gentler now. "I knew how badly you'd wanted the lamp. The merchant admitted he had a second. I thought you'd like a pair flanking the canopy bed."

"It's a very nice surprise," she whispered. "Thank you."

"Nothing like mine." He sat on the edge of the bed. Lorella had placed the patchwork quilt across the lace coverlet. Morgan ran one hand over it. "I never liked this, you know. It's an eyesore, yet I wouldn't have believed I could miss the thing so much." His eyes met hers, and she saw his were misty, too.

The pain in the room was a palpable thing. She couldn't bear it.

"Morgan, please try to forgive me," she pleaded on a whisper. "I just couldn't risk losing this one. I didn't know for certain until after Boyd had written you. But if you can't forgive me, if things can't—" Her voice broke. "They'll never be like before."

"You promised when you came back here, I'd find you right beside me." He patted the mattress. She sat a little apart from him, still uncertain. He laid a hand gently on her abdomen. "Somehow I assumed a pregnant belly would feel like a pillow. But it's hard," he marveled. "Strong, filled with new life." His hand moved higher and cupped a breast. "This, too. Fuller, plumper."

She made no attempt to move his hand. He leaned closer until their lips met. He pulled back, then dipped his head to taste her again. It was like that first tremulous kiss long ago. Richelle felt the first tear begin its course down her cheek. "Tell me to go across the hall if you can't bear having me in bed with you. Don't humiliate me. I'll end up begging you to make love to me."

"Ah, love, you won't have to beg. I need you so badly, I can scarcely breathe. I'll be as gentle as I can, but it's been so damned long." He opened his breeches and freed his swollen manhood. "Touch me, Richelle." He bent to kiss her again, sucked in a hissing breath as her fingers reached to curve around him.

"It's been hell, hasn't it?" she whispered, closing her eyes as his thumb and forefinger tweaked her left nipple. "I missed you so very much."