Patricia Rice (40 page)

Faith was uncertain as to his reasons for his
presence, and she ought to distrust his intentions, but she had spent a
year of her life learning to love and trust this man. Wrapping the
blankets around the child, supporting his head so as not to disturb his
slumber, Faith lifted him into Morgan’s large palms.

Picking up one of the cloths on the bedside table,
she folded it and put it over Morgan’s shoulder as he stared in
wonderment at his firstborn. “Put him over your shoulder and rub his
back gently. He gets bubbles in his stomach from eating so quickly.”

The large man holding his tiny son presented an
incongruous image, but he did it with the gentleness that Faith knew
Morgan possessed. She had feared him at first, with his large size and
frightening pistols and rough ways, but she had learned to see beyond
the outer man, to the man who loved life and craved the innocent. It was
to this inner man that she offered her life and love.

“He’s so damned tiny, I fear I’ll break him.” Morgan
adjusted the frail bundle to his shoulder and attempted rubbing the
small back with two large fingers. The infant hiccuped and settled down
as if he belonged there.

“Oh, he’s quite strong. He can even lift his head,
and Bess says he is long for his age. He’ll be as big as you one of
these days.” Without the protection of the babe, Faith fumbled at the
fastenings of her gown to cover herself.

“What have you named him?” Morgan looked down in surprise at the babe’s belch.

Faith laughed at his reaction, then nervously laced her fingers. “George Morgan O’Neill. I did not know what to do about the ‘de Lacy.’ The marriage papers...”

Morgan looked up. “I’ll have Miles correct the
marriage papers. O’Neill is my mother’s name, and it is a fine one, but I
would have him bear the de Lacy name too.”

Faith nodded. Now that the first surprise was over,
she feared to question further. Were the marriage papers legitimate? Had
he had them annulled? Was she still married?

“Why are you here?” she asked.

The time had come to talk, but Morgan seemed
strangely reluctant to do so. He lifted his son from his shoulder and
cradled him in the crook of his arm so he could admire the tiny,
perfectly formed fingers and toes. “Because I had nowhere else to go.
Will you find it difficult to accept my presence in the same town?”

Faith shook her head. “Had I thought you would come with me, I would have asked you. I thought you meant to stay in London.”

“Perhaps I will again another day. I had need to see
how you fared, and that cursed Miles wouldn’t tell me a thing. I will
have his head for not telling me of the child.”

“He didn’t know of him until recently.” Growing
nervous, Faith took the sleeping infant from Morgan’s hands and rose to
place him in the cradle. “It would be better if we discussed this
another time. It is late, and Bess will wonder if my light is still on
when she goes by.”

He watched her cross the room, then rose abruptly
and strode to the door, hat in hand. “We’ll need to talk. Surely you
must see that. When may I see you again?”

Faith clasped her hands in front of her and met his
gaze with trepidation. He practically filled her tiny room. Indeed, his
head was bent to keep from bumping the rafters. This was no place for a
man like Morgan. He needed open spaces and room to expand his enormous
energies in. Sadness crept around her heart. “It is difficult to say. I
stay very busy. Could I send you word?”

Morgan nodded curtly. “I stay at White’s. I am using
my own name now, but I’ll not mention the ‘O’Neill.’ I will not harm
you if I can prevent it.”

Faith breathed a little easier. She knew he would
not intentionally harm her, but Morgan had a temper and a strong will.
If he had chosen to make himself known, he could have wreaked havoc with
her simple life. She was grateful that he had chosen to be reasonable.
“I know you would not harm me, Morgan, but it has been a long time, and
I’m still...” She hesitated over an appropriate word.

“You needn’t spell it out, little one. I play the
part of bastard well, and you’re well rid of me, but there is the small
matter of the child. We will have to work something out.”

“Yes, of course.” Dully she watched as Morgan nodded farewell and walked out.

He had come for the child, then, and not for
herself. She should be relieved, but tears flowed freely down her face.
He had not even asked to stay, or made any motion to touch her. Whatever
had been between them had died. She should have known that all along,
but in some small part of her heart she had clung to her fantasies.

She would be a long time recovering from the blow.

***

She heard the praises of the “Frenchman” the first
thing next day as the young lawyer dug hungrily into his breakfast. It
took a moment before Faith realized he spoke of Morgan. As Acton carried
in a load of flour, he overheard their conversation and added his
curiosity to the reason for the noble stranger’s presence in
Williamsburg. Faith stared at him in disbelief and turned away as they
began to speculate on the man’s background.

Morgan could turn the heads of every woman and
sharpen the wits of every man in town did he but put his mind to it.
Even as a stranger, his was a dangerous presence. There was something
mysterious and aloof about him that caught people’s interest, and he
only served to stimulate it more when he spoke. Morgan had a silver
tongue. She had forgotten that. Damn his unreasonable pride, he could be
anything he wanted to be. Why did he choose to be a thief?

She wouldn’t have little George learn his father had
been hanged for thievery. If Morgan intended to claim his son, he would
have to change his ways. She didn’t know how she would force him to it.
For her own sake, she had never tried, but for her son she would run
Morgan out of town on a rail.

With that determination made, Faith went about her
tasks with a new fervor. She would send for Morgan and tell him in no
uncertain terms that he had to turn to honest trade if he were to stay
here. That should send him scurrying back where he belonged. Perhaps it
was cruel to ask him to give up his son, but he had been cruel in
sending her away. She had paid the price; now he must pay his.

After the noon meal was served and George was fed
and sleeping quietly, Faith sent word to White’s that she would be
available for a few hours. She didn’t expect Morgan to reply
immediately. She had already been told that he had been invited to speak
in the House on certain matters currently before Parliament and that he
had breakfasted with the Speaker.

Morgan was a rogue through and through, portraying
himself as a gentleman to these trusting people. But at one time he had
been a gentleman, if his words could be believed. And perhaps the London
society he had been keeping these last months had given him some
insight into the laws governing the colonies. She ought to give him
benefit of the doubt, but at the moment she was feeling ill-disposed
toward such leniency.

When Morgan appeared within the half-hour, he caught
Faith by surprise. She was working diligently over the prior day’s
receipts in her office, and his shadow caused her to look up. He was
dressed to the inch in a gentleman’s fashion. Holding his braid-trimmed
cocked hat beneath his arm, he wore his black locks unpowdered, but the
jade green of his frock coat and the striped silk of his embroidered
waistcoat erased all hint of the highwayman. Without being told, she
knew he had done this for her. Yesterday, for himself, he had worn black
as usual.

Faith stood and glanced down at her plain brown gown
and simple neckerchief. “I hope you did not wish to go somewhere
fashionable. I thought you only wished a word with me.”

“I do, and you know you would be lovely in my eyes
were you wearing nothing.” Morgan grinned and held out his arm. “But I
would prefer a little privacy. This place seems overfull of your
admirers. Should we come to, say, a little disagreement, I fear I would
find a knife at my neck and a gun at my back.”

Remembering one or two of their “disagreements,”
Faith had to agree with Morgan’s assessment of the situation. And they
were almost certainly going to come to a disagreement when she gave him
his ultimatum. She nodded and took his arm. She would have this over
once and for all. She did not fear Morgan’s temper, but he had reason to
fear hers.

Faith gasped in recognition as she stepped outside
the inn to find not only Morgan’s stallion but also the little Arabian
mare she had sold to buy her passage. “Dolly!” she cried, running to pet
the mare’s nose and stroke the lovely proud neck. She turned inquiring
eyes to Morgan as he came up behind her.

“Dolly? That is a ridiculous name for an animal with such illustrious ancestry. You could at least call her Elizabeth or Anne.”

Faith made a face at his mockery. “How did you find
her? And why did you bring her here? I thought you wished to sell all
your horses. That’s what you told Toby.”

“That’s another topic open for discussion. When I
find that redheaded scoundrel, I shall thrash him within an inch of his
life, but I prefer more pleasant topics for today’s outing. Let us at
least leave town peaceably.”

Faith caught her breath as Morgan grasped her by the
waist and threw her into the saddle. She had forgotten how firm and
strong his hold could be. As she adjusted her leg around the sidesaddle,
she covertly watched Morgan mount the stallion. She really ought to be
more afraid of him. Perhaps he was more lean than large, but she knew
all too well the muscles rippling beneath the dandy’s coat and lace.
When he easily brought the restive stallion under control, she caught
her breath at the grace of his movements. She was out of her mind to
think she would ever get the better of him.

And she had agreed to a few hours alone with this
man? She would be lucky to walk away unscathed. She ought to call a halt
to this prime fallacy right now, while she still could.

The Virginia heat encompassed them as they paced the
horses down a country lane shaded with old elms and oaks. Faith
regretted wearing the heavy broadcloth gown and discreetly eased open
her neckerchief to allow more air to bathe her throat. With his
incredible sense of timing, Morgan turned to catch her at it, and the
light flaring in his eyes sent a sharp thrill to her middle.

“Let us not go too far,” she reminded him. “I must be back when George awakes.”

Her tone didn’t wipe the grin from Morgan’s lips.
“Whatever milady requests. You know the area better than I. Will the
owner of this fine property object if we rest in the shade of yon
grove?”

“I cannot see why he should, since he has obviously chosen to let the land lie fallow. We won’t be disturbing anything.”

Morgan gave her a shrewd look and led the horses off
the road to the shady protection of the trees. A brook babbled across
round pebbles and beneath the wands of a willow tree, and thick tufts of
grass provided an excellent seat to escape the sun. He climbed down and
removed the blanket he had brought. Then he turned to assist Faith in
dismounting.

Faith eyed the blanket with distrust. She had reason
to remember a blanket in another time and place, beneath the stars on a
spring night. She refused to be seduced as easily as that child.

She walked to the brook’s edge and bent to pick up a stone or two to skip across the water. “You wished to talk?”

Morgan caught her by the shoulders. “I do. Just talk, Faith. Come sit down beside me.”

“I am fine here.” She shrugged off his encroaching hands. “Where would you like to begin?”

“By seeing your eyes. Faith, look at me. I do not
mean you harm, I promise. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for
me to be this close without touching? At least give me the pleasure of
your face.”

Faith turned questioningly to find Morgan with his
fists clenched at his side, his dark brows pulled together in an
expression of pain. Surprised, she took a step backward. “I did not
think you wished to see me again. I am trying to make this easy for
you.”

Morgan took a deep breath and pointed to the blanket. “Sit. It will be much easier if one of us is sitting still.”

Faith had to smile at that. His restless pacing was
much a part of her memory of him. Spreading her coarse skirts, she took a
place on the blanket and waited. Morgan nodded a curt approval and
found a tree trunk to lean against. He had thrown his hat to the
blanket, but the dappled shade served to conceal much of his features as
he stared down at her, arms crossed over his chest.

“I sent you away for your own safety, Faith. And for
your own good. I will be the first to admit that you are better off
without me. I need only to look at how well you fare now to justify what
I did. Were it not for me, you could have your choice of husbands and
live in the company of good people, with all the wealth and comfort that
you deserve.”

“I think we are past the stage of counting what we
owe to each other,” Faith replied. “There were choices I could have made
all along. You always gave me that. It was I who decided we must marry,
and I did so with every intention of its being permanent. I do not
blame you in any way for that.”

“And it was I who forced you into consummating the
marriage, thus ensuring that you could not escape, particularly now that
a child has come of it. That was not a fair way to thank you for saving
my unworthy neck. Don’t let me off so easily, Faith. I took advantage
of your goodness, and now you are suffering for it. That was not what I
intended. Why did you not take the bank draft Miles offered you? That
was your money, from your family. It belonged to you, free and clear.”

Faith folded her hands in her lap. Miles had tried
to explain that to her, but she had been unwilling to listen. She knew
Morgan had somehow forced her family to pay that sum, but she had no
wish to be purchased by anyone. Or to buy off anyone’s guilt. She shook
her head. “The money is meaningless. Perhaps it will someday ensure that
your son has a proper education. I do not need it for myself.”