The Making of a Duchess (30 page)

   "What—"

   "Stay down," Julien demanded. He was warm and solid above her, and she had little choice but to obey. Above, she could hear the crew yelling and scrambling into position.

   "What is it?" she asked after a long moment punctuated by the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

   "It sounded like a shot from a cannon." He rose slowly, gave her a quick assessing glance, and helped her to sit. "Stay there." He strode to the porthole and peered out. "Damn it."

   She jumped up to join him, and he frowned then moved aside so she could see. At first she saw nothing but black smoke dissipating, and then she saw the ship. It was larger than they, and its sails were tight with the wind. It was coming for them, coming at them fast and hard.

   "They're flying French colors," Julien told her. "That was a warning shot. If Stalwart tries to run, they'll blow us out of the water."

   Sarah gaped at him. "But I thought he was a smuggler. I thought he was supposed to be able to evade the authorities."

   Julien gave a bitter laugh, his eyes still on the approaching ship. "Who said these are the authorities? It looks like the Navy, but that might be a ruse."

   "What do they want? Are they going to attack us?" Worse yet, would they board? And if they did, what would become of Julien and herself? She could not imagine the French Navy would welcome them.

   "I don't know," Julien said. "But whatever happens, I want you to stay close—"

   Footsteps clumped rapidly in the passage outside the cabin before the door rattled and swung open. "Valère!" The first mate stuck his head inside, his voice calm but his manner brusque and hurried. Sarah jumped behind Julien to hide her state of undress, but the man did not even glance at her. "Valère, come with me."

   "What the hell is going on?" Julien demanded. He seemed unconcerned about his bare chest or the pile of clothing on the floor at the door.

   "We're about to be boarded by the French Navy. The captain can probably bribe his way out of this, but not if a French aristocrat is found on board. Captain's orders are that you hide in the cargo hold." The first mate pulled out a pistol and leveled it at them. "I'm to escort you."

   Sarah clutched Julien's arm and stared at the pistol. But if Julien had any fear, he didn't show it. "Won't they search the cargo holds?" he asked.

   "Not this one," the man said with a grin. "Now let's go." He motioned with the pistol.

   Far too slowly for her tastes, Julien took her hand and moved forward. Once in the passageway, he pushed her before him so the pistol was aimed directly at him. For the first few minutes, Sarah forgot to pay attention to where she was going. The first mate called out "right" or "left," and she did as she was bade. At one point, a dozen crewman ran past them, their faces stoic and stony. She hugged the wall, trying to stay out of their way.

   She was completely lost now. Despite the ship's small size, she had not seen much of it, and when they came to a dark passage that dead-ended, she turned to the first mate, certain he had taken a wrong turn. But he held up a lantern and gestured them forward.

   "The captain has a hold for special cargo." When she reached the end of the passageway, the first mate stepped in front of her and pushed at a section of wall. Silently, a door slid open. Sarah stared at it, amazed at how perfectly it had blended in with the wood surrounding it.

   "In there." The first mate pointed. "Climb down the ladder." He lifted his lantern, shining light into the void. Sarah peered down and down. She could barely make out the ghostly shadows of barrels and crates below. But the space was filled and would be cramped.

   "I'll go first with the lantern," Julien told her.

   "Hurry up," the first mate ordered. "They'll be coming alongside us in a few moments."

   Julien nodded, took the lantern, and began the descent. Sarah watched, frightened he would lose his one-handed grip on the rope ladder, but he held on. Before he had even reached the bottom, the first mate was waving for her to follow. Hands shaking and knees wobbling, she did so. She knew Julien would catch her if she faltered. As she climbed, she shuddered, thinking of all the spiders and rats and who knew what else waiting below. But Julien was there as well. She did not want to be anywhere he was not.

   When she reached the last rung, Julien caught her and pulled her into his arms. Together they looked up at the door and the first mate. Without a word, he shut the door. She heard it slide back into place, and then all went silent.

   Julien held up the lantern, shedding scant light upon the barrels and crates. They were unmarked and stacked high. Finally, he gestured to a spot on the floor between two crates where they could sit and would be hidden from view should the door open. "This is probably Stalwart's most valuable cargo," he told her. "He'll make certain this isn't confiscated. We should be safe."

   Sarah was not so certain, but the rapid pounding of her heart slowed as Julien pulled her into his arms. "You're going to be all right." He stroked her hair, and gradually she began to relax. After a few moments, he sat down on the wooden planks, and she sat beside him, wrapped in his arms. He held her tightly and covered her mouth when she felt the two ships scrape together and the sound of boots as the Navy officers boarded the smaller vessel.

   "Don't make a sound," he whispered in her ear.

   She could hear the men moving around, hear the faraway lilt of their French. But she could not understand them. Then all grew quiet, and Sarah held her breath. They were searching the ship, and she knew they would find her.

   Julien pulled the lantern close to hide the light. Sarah wanted to tell him to blow it out, but she was too afraid to be trapped there in the dark. Finally, except for the occasional voice or jostle of the two vessels, all was still. She sat encased in Julien's arms and prayed. When she opened her eyes, she stared at Julien's face, memorizing it. His look was grim but confident.

   The hours wore on. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because he was gently shaking her. She sat bolt upright, a scream trapped in her throat.

   "Shh." He pulled her close to him again. "The Navy is leaving," he whispered.

   Her heart lifted. "How do you know?"

   "I heard the boots. Wait… do you feel our ship moving away?"

   She nodded. "Yes!" Oh, thank God. They had not been discovered. She sat anxiously waiting for the door above to open. Julien's eyes were on the ceiling as well, but an hour passed, and no one came to free them.

   "Do you think they forgot about us?" she asked.

   He did not answer, and she knew he feared the captain would leave them there. After all, they could be valuable cargo. He might fetch a good price for them. Oh, why had she not thought of this before?

   "Not exactly what you had in mind for this afternoon, was it?" Julien said finally. Lord, how could he sound so nonchalant? But then, what good was worrying going to do them? And if this was the last of their time together, she did not want to spend it fretting.

   She took his hand, held it to her cheek. "I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever be together."

   He chuckled, and the sound rumbled through her. "Feeling impatient?"

   "Very impatient."

   He pulled her closer, put his lips by her ear. "Just

wait until I get you back to the cabin,
chérie
. I don't think either of us wants to wait any longer." She kissed him gently, letting him know she agreed. Fervently, she prayed they would once again reach the cabin. After a long silence, Julien began to speak. He spoke slowly at first and of things of no consequence, but gradually he began to speak of his family, and his voice warmed. Sarah was glad for the comfort of his voice, glad for the steadiness she heard there.

   She learned all about the Valère family. Julien's stories revealed how much he revered his father, who had been nothing short of a hero to his son. He told of how brave his mother had been during their flight from France and how she had tried to be both mother and father to him in those first years. He regaled her with dozens of stories about Armand and Bastien. She felt she almost knew them.

   After he had spoken for some time, he asked her for stories as well, and she told him about life at the Academy and the friends she had made there. But she had nothing to rival his tales of mischief and camaraderie with his brothers.

   Hearing so much about Julien's family, Sarah longed for a family of her own even more fervently. The phantom memories that had plagued her all her life—memories of a laughing mother and the warm, safe arms of a father—came back to her stronger than ever. She told Julien about the memories and her belief that they stemmed from a deep longing for her own family.

   By now the lantern had almost burned down, and they were both weary. Julien was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She was flush against him, her head on his shoulder. He had one arm about her and the other under his head.

   With no time to dress again, he wore his breeches and nothing else. She was still in her shift. She would have been cold had he not kept her close beside him. Her eyes were almost closed as she told him she yearned for a family of her own. She stroked his bare chest, letting her fingers swirl in and out of the smattering of hair there. When he sat and looked directly at her, she sat as well, unconcerned that the sleeve of her shift fell down, exposing her bare shoulder.

   His eyes flicked in the direction of that naked flesh, and the feel of his gaze on her aroused her. Oh, why had the Navy had to interrupt everything?

   "What is it?" she asked when he did not speak.

   "It's just that I never realized how alike we are."

   She raised her brows. "Alike? We're nothing alike. You're a duc. I'm a governess. You're rich. I'm poor. You're French, and I'm English."

   "Yes, on the surface we seem to have little in common, but in here"—he put his hand just above her breast, over her heart—"in here we have the same wants, the same desires."

   As always, the feel of his hands on her made her breathless. "How so?" she whispered.

   "We both want a family. I've been searching for mine since I was thirteen. You—I suppose you've always been searching for yours."

   She swallowed. "But I'll never find mine. I'll never know who my mother or father were."

"No, but I'd say you found a family anyway. Mine."

   She felt tears prick her eyes, but she could not look away.

   "We'll have our own family, Sarah. And we'll create our own memories."

   She looked down, the doubts that had plagued her since they began this voyage creeping to the surface once again. This time she could not seem to contain them. This time she
needed
the words he spoke to be real and true.

   "What's wrong?" he asked.

   "What if, when we return to London, we realize this marriage isn't valid?"

   "I told you. I'll get a special license, and we'll marry again."

   "But"—she gathered the hem of her shift and twisted it—"what if when your mother learns who I really am, she doesn't want me for a daughter-in-law? What if all of Society laughs at you for choosing to marry a governess?"

   He chuckled, and she glanced up at him sharply.
"Mon coeur,"
he murmured and pulled her against him again. "Do you think I care what Society says? If I never have to attend another ball, I'll be ecstatic."

   "Oh, me too. I hate dancing."

   "See, I told you we had much in common."

   She smiled, listening to the soft thump of his heart under her ear. "But, Julien, what about your mother?"

   "My mother wants me to be happy, Sarah. If you're what makes me happy, then she'll welcome you with open arms."

   Sarah sat up and stared at him. "
Do
I make you

happy?"

   "Excessively—though I couldn't tell you why, since you also cause me enormous trouble."

   "Maybe you needed some trouble in your life."

   He grinned and pulled her into his arms. "Maybe I did." Even as the lantern began to flicker and die, she could see his blue eyes darken.

   She looked at his mouth, touched it with one finger, and then met his gaze. It was already on her, filled with passion and longing—all the things she felt.
"Embrasse-moi."
His voice was husky, and it sent a shiver through her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with all the desire she felt, wanting him to feel it as well.

   He kissed her back, meeting her passion with his own. She welcomed his desire, matched it. She knew the pleasure his hands and lips could bring, and she offered herself to him completely. When his hands caressed her breasts, she arched to give him better access. When his lips brushed over the sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat, she moaned and pulled him against her.

   With the hard floor beneath him, he pulled her on top of him, and she enjoyed kissing his chest and neck, running her hands over his abdomen, down to his waistband, where she paused, excited and uncertain.

   Her fingers trembled as they grazed the edge of his breeches, and she looked up to find him watching her. "Perhaps we should stop," he said, his voice ragged.