Louisiana History Collection - Part 1 (165 page)
“I know that. He asked me to marry him, to go with him to Spain when we got off the island, but I refused.”
He stopped. “Is there no proposal to your liking? Why would you not agree to be the wife of the heir to one of the greatest fortunes in Spain?”
“Because,” she said distinctly, “I did not love him.”
Even as she spoke, she realized that Bast’s proposal had been based on the fact that he had known of Morgan’s mission and the imminent arrival, once
La Paloma
left the island, of the Spanish guarda de costas. Thinking back, she saw that he had come very near to giving away the secret then, if she had only known how to listen.
Morgan reached to pick up the love lock that lay across her shoulder, holding its shining softness carefully in his hand. “You did not answer my question in its entirety. Perhaps I can put it another way. If I were to ask you now, for the second time, to be my wife, would you say yes?”
Tension that bordered on trembling ran along her nerves. She stared at the gold buttons on his waistcoat. Her voice a whisper of sound, she said, “No.”
He caught her forearms, his fingers biting into her flesh as he dragged her against him. “Before God, Félicité, you will drive me mad! Why?”
“It is true that I love you,” she began, then pressed her hands to his chest, as he would have pulled her closer. Her velvet-brown eyes were soft with glistening tears of anguish as she went on. “But you were right; I would not have told you if I had not thought that everything was over for us. For one to love while the other feels no more than desire, be it ever so consuming, is not enough. I could not bear to be your wedded wife on such terms, to have no more than your passion and your sufferance for the sake of a past wrong. I could not!”
His brows drew slowly together, and emerald fire danced in his eyes. “Because — dearest heaven, Félicité, how can you think I do not love you? Have I not told you so in a thousand ways? You are the breath of my body and the beat of my heart. The thought of you is a constant flow in my mind, and has been since the first moment I saw you with the contents of that damnable chamber pot perfuming the air! If I had not been obsessed with you to the point of sickness, the thought of your plotting my death with Valcour would not have been so enraging, and you might be a virgin still. If the look and feel and taste of you were not the only solace of my soul, why else would I have bartered for the command of my own private hunting expedition? I love you beyond the conception of sober and lucid men or the shrouded visions of yearning women, and if you will not agree to come with me and be the wife I would cherish in sanctified pleasure, then torment me how you may, I will forswear the part of a civilized man and become a pirate again, shackling you to me by force!”
The tears shivered on the ends of her lashes as her lips curved into a slow smile. “And if I will?”
“Then no man, no court, no set of laws, will ever take you from me as long as we both have breath.”
She went into his arms then, clasping her hands behind his bent head. Their lips met with passion and power, sweetly savored, tenderly possessed.
Morgan held her close then, his chin against the silk of her hair, his senses reeling with the fragrance of roses. “We can say our wedding lines before the captain this night, if you like.”
“Yes, eventually.” By slow degrees, she freed herself, drawing him with her toward the beckoning comfort of the velvet-covered bunk.
Much later, she stirred, cushioning her cheek more comfortably against Morgan’s arm as she spread her fingers over the sculpted planes of his bare chest. “You knew,” she said softly, “that Captain Bonhomme went away with Isabella, did you not?”
“Yes, I saw,” he answered, his voice deep with lazy satiation, the sound vibrating against her palm.
“I wonder if they can possibly be as happy as we are?”
“No.” The answer was simple, positive, and required, of course, a reward. After a moment, he said, “I expect Bonhomme will make a fine marques when he has grown used to the new identity Isabella will provide for him.”
“Perhaps he will use his own rightful name, left behind when he became a corsair?”
“Perhaps.” He turned, brushing the silken strands of her hair from her shoulder, leaning to press his lips to the curve he had uncovered.
“André, the captain’s manservant, will be furious about my hair, and about having to press my gown again.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Morgan murmured.
Félicité’s voice grew drowsy as he seared a path from her shoulder to the peak of her breast. “Doesn’t it?”
“His services will not be required again.”
“Not even for the wedding,” she mused, running her fingers through the hair over his ear and along the nape of his neck. He turned his head to smile at her, a promise in his green eyes.
“Well,” he conceded, his tone a fine blend of reluctance and anticipation, “perhaps once more.”
Since publishing her first book at age twenty-seven,
New York Times
bestselling and award-winning author Jennifer Blake has gone on to write over sixty-five historical and contemporary novels in multiple genres. She brings the story-telling power and seductive passion of the South to her stories, reflecting her eighth-generation Louisiana heritage. Jennifer lives with her husband in northern Louisiana.
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HISTORICAL ROMANCE
THE
LOVE AND ADVENTURE COLLECTION
The LOUISIANA PLANTATION COLLECTION
The LOUISIANA HISTORY COLLECTION
THE ROYAL PRINCES OF RUTHENIA
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CONTEMPORARY
ROMANCE
THE ITALIAN BILLIONAIRES COLLECTION
Jennifer’s brand-new contemporary romance is an Amazon Top 100 bestseller, with over 50,000 copies downloaded in its first 2 weeks.
