Druid's Daughter (12 page)

“Beautiful, irresistible Morgan,” he whispered as he claimed
her in a blazing kiss. She felt herself dissolving into a puddle of some kind
of soft material he could mould as he wished. Her very bones seemed like
treacle. The sensation was not a bit alarming, in fact she quite liked it. She
wriggled her body a little closer, loving this very intimate contact.

Lance ran his hands over her figure, lingering a moment at
her hips as he pressed her even closer to his body. She slightly angled her
head to kiss him again, but before she could do so felt herself lifted from him
and set aside. He turned on his stomach and lay there without speaking.

Morgan lay beside him, bewildered. The thrill of his hot
kiss still reverberated through her body. She could feel little shivers
creeping from her spine outward. She’d been amazed at how easily he raised her
and placed her beside him. She’d always guessed he was an incredibly strong
man, yet this brief proof was an exciting joy.

She wanted more. She sat up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Is that all?” she asked.

Lance flipped over and stared at her. He didn’t seem to be
breathing quite steadily.

“Do you want it to be all?”

Morgan stopped to think just a second.

“No,” she said.

Lance still stared at her, his blue, blue eyes burning with
intensity.

“Morgan, you’ll purely be the death of me. I stopped because
if I go on I’ll kiss you much more deeply and I’m afraid I’ll frighten you.”

She looked at him stretched on the blanket. He took up a
good share of the blanket and she was right he’d been framed by a master. Every
bone and muscle seemed to flow into the next. She wanted to be wrapped again in
his strong arms and kissed even more, no matter what it entailed. She knew
enough to realize the pronounced bulge in his pants meant he desired her and
she gloried in her power to so affect him.

“Please,” she said in a husky voice, as she lay down again,
as close to him as she could wriggle.

Lance groaned and reached for her. He laid his lips against
hers, gently at first and then with insistence. This time when he ran his
tongue around her lips and then pressed to gain entrance she let him in. A
shock ran through her, a thrilling shock, as he swept his tongue into and
around every crevice of her mouth, seeking her sweetness. She was determined to
reciprocate and he held still and let her try, at first tentatively and then
with a joyous assurance as she realized he was affected just as much as she.

They both had to surface for air and Morgan clung to his
shoulders as she put her cheek on his and gasped.

“Did you like that?” His voice was a low rumble in her ear.

“Oh yes, Lance. Beyond anything.” Although her breath was
still short he understood her and turned her lips again to his.

He increased the intensity of the kiss immediately and
Morgan drowned in a sea of pleasurable sensations she’d never dreamed possible.
His lips and his agile tongue swept her away into a world of pure feeling. She
barely knew when he started caressing her breasts, she only knew she loved his
touch anywhere he chose to move his hands.

Abruptly, every intoxicating caress was over. Lance pushed
her aside almost roughly and putting his hand on the ground, vaulted to his
feet. His back was to her as he ground out his words.

“That’s all, Morgan. You don’t know what you’re doing, but I
do.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I thought you were
enjoying yourself.”

His voice sounded a little steadier, although he still
didn’t face her.

“I enjoyed it far too much.” His laugh was short and bitter.
“This was not what I intended when I asked you to lunch. At least not
consciously.”

She was too embarrassed to answer. Not by his rejection as
much as her own knowledge she’d not wanted him to stop. The fact he could give
her such delight amazed her, but she suspected it was too dangerous a delight
to dally with again. She’d not trust herself if he kissed her even once more.

All her certainties had flown at his kisses. Was she such a
spineless creature as this? She’d better reconstruct her values and have them
firmly in place before she saw him again. She had no future in his life, nor he
in hers.

She finally found a rather creaky voice.

“I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. We won’t do
this again.”

His laugh sounded genuine. “You have no idea what I’m
thinking, my dear girl. But of course we mustn’t do this again. Shall we go
back to the carriage?”

He’d asked the driver to stop around a corner. When they’d
first pulled over so she’d thought he was looking for a big enough tree to
shade the horses. Now she suspected he mainly wanted to give them privacy.

They picked up the small amount of debris from their lunch,
Morgan shouldered her blanket and they walked silently back to the carriage.

Holding out one big hand to help her into the carriage was
the only time a solemn Lance touched her again.

The ride home was far too long.

* * * * *

Lance Dellafield, Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard’s famed
C.I.D., felt as if he had just engaged in a major skirmish with an overpowering
enemy and barely escaped intact. Outwardly intact, at least. He might have
changed a bit inside. When he finally found and married the conformable girl
best suited to him, would he still go over and over those delicious moments
with Morgan? The way he couldn’t stop doing now?

Blast her for being his own personal witch, regardless of
her claims to be nothing but a Druid. Certainly he’d been close to taking her
right there on the blanket, in a public park and to hell with the consequences.

How could she do this to him? And with no effort at all.

He and Morgan had so little in common. She lacked regard for
anyone except on his individual merits. He’d been raised to feel members of the
aristocracy were superior to the common people. She believed living one’s life
so your goodness would produce a better situation for you when next you were
born. He was born and raised in the English church, who believed if you at
least tried to be good you’d be let into heaven. Especially if you belonged to
the peerage! She saw visions, for God’s sake and auras. And her mother could
work magic. It was impossible to think two such dissimilar worlds could ever
mesh in peace. Worst of all, she seemed able at times to read his mind. Part of
his half-buried fear was if he let her get close enough she’d find out what he
was really like. He could never stand to have her look at him with disgust
darkening those bright green eyes. Not this particular girl. A girl whose
purity shone from her mesmerizing eyes.

Lance was back to the resolve with which he’d started out on
this disastrous and unforgettable day. He must keep away from Morgan McAfee.
This time he must keep his resolution.

What was she doing now? Was she going over and over in her
mind those remarkable kisses? Was she regretful she’d allowed him to kiss her
almost into submission? He was no green lad, he realized she’d been close to
allowing him any liberty he chose. Which was exactly why he’d called a halt to
their amorous pleasures. He knew where they were headed and she didn’t.

Not seeing her ever again was for the best. Or if fate
decreed they meet again, he would coolly keep his distance. Perhaps it was time
to examine some of the other women he knew with an eye to marriage. He’d not
kept a mistress for over a year, which was probably the reason Morgan could
break his control so easily. That was doubtless the problem. His last mistress
had bored him to tears and he’d been delighted to rid himself of her. He’d
thought his fencing twice a week would take care of his surplus energy.
Evidently fencing wasn’t the right kind of exercise.

He needed an outlet for his sexual vigor, but the idea of
another mistress didn’t appeal. Perhaps it truly was time to look for a wife.
Yes, that was what he needed. He’d keep his eye out for a suitable woman. One
trained to be amenable to her husband and who’d not probe too deeply into intimacy.
If he picked carefully he would not have to let this chosen wife get close to
him at all.

Marriage must be the answer to the pernicious unrest and
longing now driving him mad.

* * * * *

His schedule was so tight he found no chance to make a sustained
move to start courting another woman. Worse yet, every time he met a suitable
female at one of his parents’ or his married brothers’ affairs he found he was
glad to be so busy. He tried but couldn’t summon up interest. He danced with
them and even took one of them out to dinner and wondered why he could not wax
enthusiastic about girls who were charming, well-bred and obviously interested
in him. Morgan’s natural beauty, her beauty from within as well as her outer
loveliness, outshone any woman he met.

When under heaven or hell was he going to stop thinking of
his Druid witch?

* * * * *

Commissioner Devon Randall was also distraught. He couldn’t
make his mind function at top speed, if at all. He was distressed not with fear
but with worry about what would be best for Jamie. The morning after Jamie’s
flight to Viviane he’d faced his sister-in-law in her room.

Her face was puffy and she was still in her dressing gown.
She looked like a slattern. He didn’t much care if his disgust showed, although
at least she’d always looked like a lady until now. Or had she? He remembered
the few times he’d pushed to the back of his mind when she appeared at dinner
in an inappropriately low cut gown. Several times she’d manufactured
opportunities to bend over him, her meager breasts almost fully exposed. He’d
risen to avoid her. He should have evicted her then. Instead, out of
desperation for care of Jamie, he tried to ignore her unwanted approaches.

Now was different. Not his discomfort, but Jamie’s safety
was involved.

“I will give you two days to get your things together,
Cynthia. You will then move either to your brother’s home in Sussex, or to a
hotel. I will stand your expenses in a hotel for a month if that is your
choice.”

Her fresh outburst of tears did not move him, except with a
revulsion he tried to mask.

“Do not waste your time asking me to change my mind. I will
never forgive the fact you were so uncaring of Jamie’s wellbeing you forced him
to flee his own house for a friendlier one.”

“Marian would be heartbroken to see me treated this way,”
she sobbed, her face made even more unattractive by her uncontrolled weeping.

Devon neither knew nor cared what his former wife would have
thought. He doubted Cynthia was correct. Looking back, he remembered Marian had
never been overjoyed when her sister announced a visit. He surmised Marian
realized Cynthia was selfish from top to toe. None of that mattered now.
Nothing mattered except Jamie’s safety and happiness. He did not even bother to
answer her accusation.

“Let Millson know when you need help with your luggage.”

With that he’d gladly left the room. He hoped he’d never
have to see her petulant face again.

Since then he’d pondered a variety of solutions.

Millson could guard the boy for a while each day, but he
knew he must find companionship and warmth for his son. Hiring a stranger
wouldn’t do, any more than sending him away to school. He needed love and
affectionate guidance.

Of course that meant Viviane.

He envisioned a kind of triumvirate care system, Viviane and
Millson during the first part of the day and himself during the afternoon. He
would have to delegate more of his duties. There were certainly plenty of
ambitious aspirants eager to help him lessen his load. His deputy commissioner
would be delighted. In addition, he’d long wanted Lance to accept the rank of
Commander, but Lance had not cared to leave active investigating. He’d try once
again to persuade Lance so there’d be an exceptional policeman coming up the
chain of command. Lance would make a superlative Commissioner some day. With
his ability and his connections he’d be assured to reach that goal if he so
desired.

Now he needed to approach Viviane. Viviane, whom he wanted
beyond reason for his wife. He well knew the more he enchained her with Jamie,
the better off his chances of claiming her in the future.

Viviane said no word at first when he approached her about
committing time to Jamie daily.

Then she smiled and barely touched his cheek with one
finger.

“You’re a reprehensible rogue. But I love Jamie and agree he
needs stability in his life. I’m well aware of your hidden motives, but your
main concern is genuinely for your son.”

Devon had endured so much stress in his life lately he
exploded against the one he loved.

“Damn it, of course I have other motives. I’ve loved you for
ages and want you in my home. I also love my son. Blast if this isn’t a
regrettable situation where I have to beg you to help me, even though it’s the
very thing I want. I just don’t want you here under a compulsion of pity.”

Viviane walked over to him and pulled his face down for a
brief kiss.

“My dear, you’re not talking coherently but I understand
what you’re saying. You’re so loveable sometimes I don’t know how I resist
you.”

Her smile glowed as welcome as water in the desert.

He grabbed her shoulders and held her a little away from
him. She was dressed in a rust colored outfit that fit her perfect figure
snugly. He wanted to run his hands over those fetching curves, but knew that
would frighten her away. He kissed her forehead and contented himself with
holding her lightly. She always smelled like heaven.

“What scent are you wearing, my love?” He nuzzled her auburn
hair.

“I distill my own fragrance. This is from the daffodils of
spring. Shall I tell you what daffodils mean? I’m an expert in the language of
flowers and herbs. They have their own language you know.”