Patricia Rice (41 page)

Morgan clenched his hands and stood away from the
tree. “Do you have some desire to make a martyr of yourself? Look at me,
Faith, and tell me you don’t wish to have pretty dresses, a home of
your own, and all the little things you’ve never had. The income from
that money would buy you all that. You wouldn’t have to work for others.
You could hire nursemaids for our son and go out and about a little.
Why give up all that for some stupid sense of pride?”

Faith glared up at him. “Will you quit towering over
me like some vengeful bird of prey? And don’t tell me about pride. I
have no lock on the world’s sum of pride. Who is it that has destroyed
his life and nearly had himself hanged for pride? I have learned to
humble myself to survive. What I will not do is turn my back on what is
right anymore. Taking that money is not right. It is not mine to take. I
lost our first child, Morgan, because I had turned my head away from
God. I’ll not ever do that again.”

Hearing the tears and anguish in her voice, Morgan
dropped to his knees and caught her shoulders, forcing her to look at
him. Those huge eyes he had reason to remember so well swam in tears,
and pain shot through him. The loss of that child still stayed with her,
then. That memory would always be between them. He touched her hair
gently.

“I don’t think God could be so cruel as to punish
you in that way. If I believed that, I would have quit believing in Him
long ago. I cannot believe I or my family did anything to deserve what
happened to us.
People
did that to us, not God.
If anyone was responsible for your losing the child, it was myself for
not taking better care of you. Lay the blame on my shoulders, Faith, not
yours or God’s. You are all that is good and right. I am the one who
has taken the road to damnation. I made that choice long ago. I would
not have you tainted by it.”

Faith found her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
“Then do not taint your son with it either, Morgan. I came here to
protect him. Let me do so.”

Morgan released her shoulders and fell back on his
heels. That was the blow he had been expecting. She asked that he give
up his son, but he could not do it. He shook his head dazedly. “Do not
ask more than I can offer, Faith. He is my son. I have some right to see
him grow. He is all the family I may ever have.”

Clenching her hands, Faith met his gaze. “Then don’t
destroy him, Morgan. Would you have him hear his father branded a
thief? Would you have him live in the shadow of his father’s corpse
hanging from a gallows? By all that is good and holy, Morgan, leave us
be!”

She may as well have lifted those fists to his jaw.
Morgan fell back beneath the blow of her words, watching her with a kind
of desperation. It wasn’t just George he wanted. She was his family.
She was his home. And she was sending him away. As he had done to her.
Clasping his hand over his eyes, Morgan steadied himself, then rose and
walked to the brook.

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind? I
know what I did was cruel, but at the time, I thought it necessary. I
have no more to offer you now than I did then, but I know now that I
cannot continue to fight a losing battle. My home and my family in
Ireland are gone, and I can never win them back. What has been done to
my people and my lands is wrong, but I cannot right it with more wrongs.
You and our son are all that I know that has any meaning anymore. Don’t
take away all my hopes, Faith.”

“Were it myself, I would not take anything from you,
Morgan. But I must protect George. Would you have him know his father
to be a thief?”

Morgan drew a deep breath and turned around to face
her. “No, I would not. If I turn king’s evidence on the thieves in
London and clear my name, would you allow me to stay?”

Faith rose from the blanket and held out her hand.
“I do not know the laws, Morgan. I only wish to keep our son free from
any taint. If you can promise me that, I will not deny you his company.”

Morgan grasped Faith’s hand and pulled her toward
him, his need for her beyond all sense and logic. She didn’t resist for
long, and he held her slight figure clasped firmly against him. He could
feel the beating of her heart, knew the softness of her breasts, drank
in the richness of her intoxicating scent. He pressed a kiss to her hair
and stroked her back the way he used to do.

“I’d promise you the sun and the moon and the stars were they mine to give. But I will not offer you lies this time, my
cailin.
I will promise only what is in me to give. I promise to do nothing to
harm you or our son or the name you carry. And I shall do whatever is
necessary to clear my past so you need not fear it ever coming to haunt
you. I have had time enough to settle the ghosts of my father and his
father before him. I can give the past up in exchange for a future.
Faith, if you can ever forgive me, you will give me hope for that
future. Doesn’t your religion have a prayer for lost souls? You’re the
answer to that prayer for me. Tell me what else you need to be happy, my
cailin,
and I will gladly spend a lifetime seeing that you have anything you desire.”

Faith rested her cheek against the warmth of
Morgan’s coat and let the magic of his hands and the silver of his words
take away the pain. She heard the agony behind his lilting speech, knew
the price the words cost him. If he promised to do this, he would keep
his promise at whatever cost—that she knew, even if it meant giving up
his revenge. She she allowed hope a place in her heart.

“To know you will be safe makes me happy, Morgan.
What else could I ask for? Do you have any idea how many nights I have
spent wondering where you were, or if you were still in this world? It’s
a terrible feeling. I wish that you would not ever put me through it
again.”

Morgan caught her chin and turned her face up to
meet his gaze. “I read the note you left, Faith. How much of it did you
mean? Can you really forgive me for what I have done? Will you give me a
chance to start anew?”

She loved the way the green of his eyes turned to
the gold and brown of the jungle when he looked at her like that. She
loved the way his black hair curled at his temple and the base of his
neck where it came loose from the ribbon. She loved the strong brown
column of his throat, the way his broad hands caressed her spine, the
feel of his long length pressed against her. She loved everything about
this man, including his sins and crimes. Perhaps that made her a sinner
too, but she could not help herself. Bravely she touched the carved
curve of his jaw.

“I meant every word of it, Morgan. Did you think I
would be here with you now if I did not? I am your wife, Morgan. I took
those vows before God, even if it were not a man of God who asked them
of me. I never wanted or intended to be anything else but your wife.”

Incredulous, Morgan caught Faith’s shoulders and
pushed her back so they were not touching. “You do not have to say that
because of those ridiculous vows we said before that charlatan. I will
not stand between you and happiness. You have a future here that I could
never offer you. Dammit,
cailin,
I am trying to
be noble, to show how much I love you by setting you free. You have a
whole court of suitors back there more suitable than I. I’ll admit, I’ll
wish to tear whomever you choose limb from limb, but I brought the pain
upon myself, and I’ll not have you suffer for it. Don’t be a fool,
lass. You owe me nothing. Take what I offer while I’m still strong
enough to offer it.”

These weren’t at all the soothing phrases of love
Morgan used to murmur when he took her to his bed. These were swords of
steel tempered by fire and honed to hurt or protect, depending on which
way they turned. Faith stared at him in amazement, read the anguish and
the truth in the rigid set of his features, and felt a small ripple of
hope and joy.

“You are a fool, Morgan de Lacy,” she said. “Must I
hit you over the head with your own weapons to make you see the light?
You are a rogue and a scoundrel. You deserve hanging for what you have
done. Would it be of any use, I’d punch you again. But you are
my
rogue and scoundrel, and I’ll have none other. Do you think one of
those men back there could take your place? Do not let me feed your
enormous arrogance any more than is necessary. You can declare our
marriage null and void. You can go elsewhere to seek a wife if that is
what you wish. But upon my soul, Morgan de Lacy, do not go ordering me
to do the same! I am married. I need no other husband. The one I have is
trouble enough.”

A grin spread across Morgan’s face as he regarded
the ferocity in her glare. “And it be trouble he is, that one,” he
agreed mockingly. “You would be wise to give him up. If he loved you at
all, he’d leave you be. But he can’t. Selfish bastard that he is, all he
can think of is the sweetness of your lips and how long it has been
since he kissed them. He’s no fool, I think. He’ll not be looking
elsewhere for what he has right here.”

Faith caught her breath at the hint of brogue and
the fire in his eyes. She didn’t know what she had done. She was quite
certain it wasn’t what she had set out to do. But when Morgan wrapped
her in his arms, it felt right, and she wouldn’t surrender her place for
all the gold in the world.

The touch of his lips brought remembered fire,
intensified by months of longing. Faith slid her hands about Morgan’s
neck, clinging to the strength of his shoulders as the fire licked along
her mouth and tongue and began to spread with the gales of a whirlwind.
She felt Morgan stiffen, begin to pull away as the realization of what
was happening hit him, but it was too late by far. The fire whipped
around them, lashing them together, and instead of pulling away, he
lowered her to the blanket.

His hands roved as their mouths sought the place
where they had left off, filling the months of absence with an urgency
that neither could deny. The fastening of Faith’s bodice came undone,
and she arched joyously into Morgan’s bare hand as he slid it beneath
the layers of cloth. His caress was gentle, learning the fullness of her
new curves, and she gave a shattered cry when he finally lowered his
head to kiss her breast. When Morgan lifted his head to look down on
her, Faith nearly cried with the tenderness of that look.

Morgan returned his mouth to hers while he kneaded
her flesh, exulting in the pleasure he had so long denied himself. When
Faith’s fingers feverishly worked at the ties of his shirt and the
fastenings of his waistcoat, Morgan felt an explosion of joy. Never had
she come to him with such eagerness. The touch of her fingers drove hot
shards of desire through him.

This wasn’t what he had intended when he brought her
out here, but nothing less than death could stop him now. When Faith
found the buttons to his breeches, Morgan moaned against her throat,
buried his kisses in her softness, and pulled her skirts up to bring her
closer.

Hot breezes blew across their naked skin as clothing
tumbled in jumbled piles. Faith cried out in welcome as Morgan’s
probing fingers explored her flesh, and she rose urgently against him.
Daringly she reached out to stroke him, urging him on.

“By all the saints,
cailin
!”
Morgan gasped. “I’m fair ready to burst with need. Touch me like that,
and I’ll not wait to pleasure you.” He grasped her hand, returning it to
his chest as he gazed down into eyes slumberous with desire. Just that
look made his loins leap, and he bent to kiss her swollen lips one more
time.

“Please, Morgan,” she begged against his mouth. Shamelessly she arched upward to encourage him.

Morgan eagerly obliged. With one swift stroke he
joined them, and Faith’s thrust brought him home. The need was too
great, too strong, and he plunged swiftly, surely, bringing her to the
peaks and nearly undoing himself in the process. When he felt her cry of
pleasure and release, he hurriedly withdrew, spilling his seed down her
side.

Faith wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Why
did you do that?” she whispered, pushing back the shirt he had not quite
removed.

Morgan nuzzled her ear, drinking in the sensuous
scent of her skin before pushing up on his hands to gaze down on her.
“It’s something I should have done long ago, had I loved you as I ought.
There will be time enough for making babies later. I’d not wear you
out, lass.”

“I’m nursing, you need not worry about such,” Faith remonstrated, her gaze tracing the line of curls down his chest.

A smile flickered across Morgan’s face as he
realized where her interest lay, and his body stirred in response. But
now was neither the time nor the place to continue this dalliance, not
until he had assured their future.

Sliding to one side, he pushed at her skirts to hide
temptation. “Tell me you have never seen women with a string of
children not more than a year apart. Then tell me they didn’t nurse
their brats. I watched my mother swell with child year after year, only
to lose them one after another. I think we’ve proved your fertility and
my virility well enough for now. I want you, lass, but I mean to keep
you for a long, long time. For that I’ll have to learn temperance.”

Faith fumbled at her bodice while Morgan drew on his breeches. “What are we to do, then?” she asked boldly.

Morgan fastened the last button and bent to press a kiss to her reddened cheek. “Get married.”

“Married?” Faith stared at him in bewilderment. “We
are
married.”

“In a church. With a proper man of the cloth. In
front of witnesses. I would have the whole world know you’re mine beyond
any shadow of a doubt.”

“A church?” Staggered, Faith tried to grapple with
what he was saying. “I don’t believe there is a Catholic church, Morgan.
I can accept the Anglican services, but can you?”