Elizabeth Boyle (99 page)

Instead, it held a warm, welcoming ambience. From the rich wood paneling to the worn oak table where she laid her wedding bouquet to the wide, deep berth she would soon be sharing with him.

She looked over at the bed and smiled. Scattered over the green coverlet were more flowers.

The back of the cabin, which took up most of the ship’s stern, was dominated by long, wide windows. Heeding his request, she unlatched them and threw them open.

Outside, darkness had settled over the West Indies cay. From the beach and the nearby ships, music still played, the wild, unbidden cadence rising and falling over the gentle waters, calling to her.

Truth be told, Maureen felt that the night before had been their wedding night, but tonight . . . there was something different in the air.

A hint of mystery, a wish for the future.

The soft scents of the ocean and the palm-covered cay floated inward. Maureen stepped back and closed her eyes, letting the magic of the night and the magic of what was to come wash over her soul.

She wanted to never forget this night. Ever.

“Julien, I love you,” she whispered into the breeze.

When she opened her eyes, she found her new husband swinging in from a rope through the open windows.

He grinned as he landed right in front of her. “Ah, a bride calling for her groom.”

He’d removed his coat and now wore only his breeches and white shirt. He’d tied a red sash around his waist, where an ornate dagger was tucked. His feet were bare, and his hair was still tied back in a queue— like a pirate of old.

“What are you doing?” she asked, stifling a giggle. Why, she never giggled, but tonight even that seemed possible.

“I swore more than one oath today, my lady. I am now a member of the Alliance, fully sanctioned to carry out the duties of a pirate.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “My first act as a buccaneer was to follow a rumor I’d heard.”

“And what, pray tell,” she asked, “was this rumor?”

He raised up one finger. “Aha. I’m glad you asked. I heard tell that the most beautiful woman was married here today, and I thought to come and steal her away.” He caught her in his arms, tugging her close. “Could it be I’ve found her, or I have come across some lost Spanish treasure?”

It was Maureen’s turn to grin. She was more than willing to play along with his game. It was made of pure magic.

“Oh, sir pirate,” she exclaimed in mock horror. “I will not have you risk your life just to please me. My groom is a jealous, fierce man. Why, he’ll kill you if he finds you here. Any moment he’ll come through yonder portal,” she said, pointing to the cabin door, “and then our time together will be lost.”

He let go of her and crossed the room. With a wide flourish he latched the entryway and then pulled a nearby chest in front of it. “I’d say we have our privacy now, milady. Unless you prefer to await your groom?”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to have to wait any longer.

“So I thought,” he said. “Now, you mentioned something about pleasure? You are in luck.” His gaze drifted over her with a slow, easy familiarity. “I have traveled every sea in search of that elusive mystery, and everywhere I went I was told to seek a woman with hair as dark as the midnight sky and with eyes that sparkle like sapphires. And she would hold all the secrets of my heart.”

“And have you found her?” she whispered.

“Oh, yes.” He tipped his head and studied her for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was edged with a soft, gentle touch. “I didn’t realize until today that I’ve spent my life looking for you.” He plucked the dagger out of his belt and tossed it aside. “Come to me, my beautiful bride. Tonight we start a lifetime of nights together.”

Captured by his command and the sensual promise of his gaze, she moved wordlessly into his embrace.

Their lips met in a searing kiss. His arms wound around her, pulling her against him. Last night’s gentle claiming was nothing in comparison to the wild heat burning between them now.

His teeth nipped at her lips, his tongue tasting her. She sighed and opened herself to him. They continued to kiss, until he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

She gazed up at him, and without breaking eye contact she reached up and plucked free the ribbon holding her hair. The long curls fell down around her shoulders. “Is this what you sought?” She said with a saucy smile, throwing her hair back, arching and stretching like a cat.

Julien seemed mesmerized by her movements. She stepped back and eased up the hem of her gown. Up over her stockings, up over her stomach, up over her unbound breasts and over her head. She tossed the dress aside and stood before him.

She reached out and caught his hand, guiding it to her breast. “Or was it this that you sought?”

His hand stroked her naked flesh, teasing her. She moved closer to him so his fingers could cup her, so he could taste her. His mouth dipped to the hard nipple, his tongue washing over the pebbled surface.

She sighed, a soft, throaty moan coming forth.

He pulled her closer, one hand around her waist. With a swift move he swept her up into his arms, carried her to the berth, and gently laid her down amongst the petals.

She inhaled deeply, breathing in the wild, sweet scent surrounding her. This magic would be forever, she thought.

In front of the berth, Julien quickly divested himself of his shirt and breeches. He joined her in their bed, cradling her in his arms.

“Maureen, my love. Whatever the future holds, know this: I love you. I’ll love you always.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

Again they kissed, sealing their pledge, which seemed more sacred than the ones they’d repeated just a few hours earlier. And as they continued to kiss, he entered her, slow and tentatively. As her hips rocked to meet his movements, the heat between them grew, until it exploded in a fevered pitch.

They held on to each other, languishing in the afterglow, touching each other with a lazy reverence.

Several times during the night they made love. Each one with the same enchanted claiming.

Just before dawn she sighed and glanced over his shoulder and out the window, where night still held sway over the sun. From the cadence of the
Destiny
, it seemed as if they were moving.

“Have we gone adrift?” she said, sitting up.

He pulled her back down and into his arms. “I know I have.” He laughed, as he began to make love to her again.

Maureen fell back into his arms, only too willing to believe her husband. And why shouldn’t she? He loved her and she trusted him, trusted him with her life, with her heart.

But looking back, she should have said something, should have realized that his quick, witty answers about the lone sailor in the rowboat or why the
Destiny
felt as if it had gone adrift were nothing more than lies.

Just like everything about Captain Julien de Ryes.

“M
iss Fenwick, are you feeling ill?” asked Lord Hawksbury.

Maureen looked up, still distracted by the sight of Julien hovering over Miss Cottwell. “Uh, yes—I mean, no. I am quite well, thank you.”

She glanced one last time in Julien’s direction, then turned her back to him. “What were you saying about a wager?”

At this the young man’s features lit up. “A ride in the park. If my uncle proposes to Miss Cottwell before the midnight unmasking at my mother’s masquerade.”

“And if he doesn’t?” she asked.

“Name your price.”

“Your fastest horse.”

The earl turned a faint shade of scarlet. “My fastest horse? But that would hardly be …”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Maureen challenged his earlier offer to name her price.

The young man, honor and duty-bound from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, nodded in reluctant agreement to her outrageous request.

She meant to win this wager. She may well need a fast horse to get out of London if her growing suspicions about Julien were correct.

He certainly couldn’t announce his engagement to Miss Cottwell with his living and breathing wife standing nearby to add her happy returns to the couple.

There was only one way Julien could take another wife.

Remove the first one.

And Maureen had no intention of giving him that chance.

She found herself watching Julien all night, despite the numerous invitations to dance, offers for punch, and other gentlemanly favors and distractions. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop seeking him out.

The very thought of him with Miss Cottwell made her furious.

Jealous, even.

Just as he’d accused her of being.

What have I come to?
she chastised herself. Jealous of Julien with another woman.

From the rumors she’d heard, he’d had a long string of mistresses, everything from demimondaine, actresses, and dancers to widows, wives, and even some young ladies, tempted from their privileged lives to utter ruin at his skillful hands.

The monstrous cad. The worst of it was that she had to count herself among the many fallen temptations in Julien D’Artiers’s less than straight path.

Yet Julien’s nephew was right about one thing, she thought. Julien was paying too much attention to Miss Cottwell. But marriage?

Maureen closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It was supposed to have been so easy. Point him out to the Lord Admiral, see him hang, and sail away.

But something was changing inside her. Years of hate were falling away and leaving something else, something she feared would never allow her to see her vow completed.

Instead, she’d betrayed her father by letting Julien live. As much as he had betrayed Ethan Hawthorne by murdering him.

Not long after midnight, Julien appeared suddenly at her side. Without a word he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

She didn’t protest.

His touch, as it had in the carriage, reignited the desire she’d once felt for him. Her body was more than willing to break the faith and revel in the passion that brought them together in the past.

The warmth of his fingers penetrated her gloved hand. And as they trailed a slow, blazing path up her forearm, she shivered when he came to the brief bareness between her gloves and short-sleeved gown, his touch bringing back the memories she’d been replaying all evening long—their recent kiss in the carriage and now, as he held her so intimately, their wedding night.

His touch, his kiss, the feel of his naked skin over hers—it clouded her senses, left her missing the first step of the dance as the music began.

“What is it, Reenie?” he whispered. “What has you over a barrel tonight?”

They moved down the column of couples past Miss Cottwell, who appeared to be dancing with Julien’s nephew.

He must have seen her glance in the girl’s direction. “Eustacia?” He laughed. “I don’t care how you may deny it, you’re jealous of her.”

“I would hardly say
jealous
,” she told him. “Why she’s young enough to be your—”

“Wife?” he teased. “I always fancied a young wife, not one of these long-in-the-tooth spinsters who seem to be so popular this Season.”

She deliberately trod on his foot as she passed him. “So it seems you will have your wish. I understand congratulations are in order. The room is rife with gossip that you are about to announce your betrothal to that witless child.” She paused for a moment, for the steps had left them facing each other. “I find that an interesting notion, but with only one problem.”

“And that would be?” he asked, his eyes wide with innocence.

“You already have a wife.”

“Yes, but she won’t claim me.”

Maureen clamped her mouth shut.

Nor will I ever
, she wanted to tell him.

If only she could say it. And mean it. “I’m just surprised you think the two of you suit,” she managed to venture.

He nodded, as if considering her advice seriously. But the light behind his green eyes told her he was enjoying her discomfort enormously. “And what type of woman would you choose for me?”

“One who understands who you truly are.”

“
Touché
,” he said. “But I must argue in Miss Cottwell’s defense that she has some amazing attributes that other women don’t possess.”

Maureen glanced over at the other girl. The angelic blond hair, the clear complexion, the perfect manners. But she hardly had the spark to match the fire Julien could kindle in a woman. “She is pretty,” she conceded.

“I suppose so, but I fancy something different about her, something she has that no other lady in the room possesses.”

What could the Lord Admiral’s daughter have that all the other misses in the room didn’t have? From Maureen’s vantage point the girl had everything. Position, wealth, breeding, family connections.

Family connections.

Maureen stopped herself. Eustacia was the daughter of the Lord Admiral.

The Lord Admiral.

That was the key. And while the Lord Admiral might want to see Captain de Ryes rot in hell, he obviously viewed Julien D’Artiers in an entirely different light.

A light that went on in Maureen’s head.

She glanced up at Julien. “If you married Eustacia, the Lord Admiral could hardly denounce you as de Ryes. Why, he’d look the worst fool for marrying you to his daughter and letting you have free rein in his home.”

“Someone cynical might say that,
if
I intended to marry the chit.”

“And you don’t?”

“What do you think?” he asked, raising his gaze to meet hers.

There she saw it—the passion, need, and desire she recognized so well.

The same look he’d used to entice her back into his arms in the carriage just hours before.

As he looked at her, Maureen could almost feel his touch, as if he wanted her to know what he would be doing to her this night if only she would utter the words.

She tore her gaze away.

It was a dangerous course Julien was navigating, and she knew the reason why. By being close to Eustacia, he could move into the Lord Admiral’s circle of confidence. From there he could more easily obtain the information about the payroll ship.