A Brother's Honor (19 page)

He did not release her hand as he led her across the terrace and out toward the enthusiastically blooming roses. “So you, too, know the siren song of the sea?”

“I liked being with my uncle. He always told me the most amazing stories about his voyages, and I never tired of them, even when I was no longer a child.”

“Why did he and your aunt raise you?”

Abigail had been about to bend to enjoy the fragrance of a rose that was the color of freshly churned butter, but drew back. “My mother died shortly after I was born.”

“From your birth?”

“I don't think so. I was almost six months old when she died.”

“Then how?”

She was glad for his hand around hers as she delved back into painful memories. “I honestly don't know. Once or twice a year, when I was very young, I asked Aunt Velma about it. She always told me that my mother's death had been a tragic accident. Nothing more.”

“But you don't believe that?”

“I want to believe it. I might have, if Aunt Velma had met my eyes when she told me that. Sometimes even a child knows that something is not quite right.”

He said nothing as he turned toward the pond. She was glad, because she did not want to chance an ear overhearing this conversation. As raw as her emotions were around this unhealed wound, she feared she might speak the very word that would damn them.

Only when they were at the edge of the pond and walking toward the springhouse did he murmur, “So you never asked again?”

“Aunt Velma always acted as if she wanted to cry when I did, so it seemed best not to ask. I did sneak out of the house several times a year to plant flowers on my mother's grave. I wanted to know her and to know my father.”

“But instead you were left with your aunt and uncle.”

“Who loved me dearly. They had no children of their own, so they needed me as much as I needed them.”

He laughed shortly as he stopped by the door to the small barn that held the spring. “Mayhap your childhood was a blessing. You were better off than you would have been if Fitzgerald had raised you.”

“Dominic!”

“Spare me the lecture about your father's saintliness. You are the first to admit that you do not truly know him. Mayhap it is time for you to admit as well that he is not the paragon you considered him when he intruded into your life whenever it was convenient for him, bringing you trinkets from far-off places.”

“He seldom brought me gifts.” She glanced at him and away. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“As if you had proven your point. Just because my father is not sentimental does not mean he has no affection for me. I am his daughter. He is my father. There is a loyalty there that cannot be ignored.”

“Is there?” When she started to walk away, he stepped in front of her. He did not touch her, but she was held by the sorrow in his eyes. “
Chérie
, I have come to wish that your father could have been a respected enemy. A respected enemy is to be treasured almost as much as a friend.”

“You are talking nonsense.”

“Am I?” He took her hand and pressed it to the center of his chest. “Listen to my heart if you will not to your own. Even though we pledged it to be so, you and I will never be friends.”

“That is true.” Her fingers trembled beneath his palm, and she wanted to sweep them across his broad chest.

“Are we enemies still?”

“I wish I knew how to answer that.”

His smile sent something whirling like a sea storm through her center. “You know the answer,
chérie
. We are enemies because there is one who will separate us forever.”

“My father?”

“He remains between us although he is far from here, in France. You have to accept that your father is not the man you believed him to be. You saw the guns in the hold. You know there are no Americans here, save for you and probably a few people from your government. What kind of man sells guns to his nation's enemies and—”

Putting her hand on his arm, she was shocked when he brushed if off. “And what? What makes you hate my father so much?”

“That is simple, for again you know the truth. Although you say nothing of it, I see it in your shattered eyes when you speak of your father. You comprehend no better than I do how a man could leave his daughter to his enemies.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “
Chérie
, I can forgive him for his loyalties, even though he is a traitor to your country. I can forgive him for his brutality when we hailed his ship. I cannot forgive him for leaving you without protection.”

“Nor can I.” She looked to the east and France where her father was awaiting the trial that could lead to his death. “I try to believe there is a reason, but I cannot guess what it might be. It no longer matters, does it?”

“No, it does not.” His thumbs beneath her chin tipped back her face. He smiled as his fingers spread across her cheeks beneath her bonnet. “So let us think of happier things.”

“I do not trust that twinkle in your eyes, Dominic.”

“You are a smart woman.” He laughed and released her. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“I thought you might be interested in what I discovered when I returned to the springhouse this morning.”

Abigail looked at the stone building. “You came back here? Why?”

“I saw something yesterday that intrigued me, but the time to explore it was not right.”

“Because Newton would want to join in?”

“No more questions.” He tugged on her hand. “You shall understand when I show you what I discovered.”

Knowing how useless it was to pester him with questions, for he was as impervious to them as Lady Sudley had been to her children's complaints about their lessons, she went with him as he opened the door. She stepped into the cool shadows and listened to the soft whisper of the water in the pool in the center of the room.

“Take care,” Dominic said as he drew her around the outer rim of the springhouse. “The floor is slick.”

Abigail gasped with delight when she saw a simple sluice in front of her. The waters from the spring flowed through it and dropped down in a miniature waterfall into a second pool before vanishing beneath the floor. “Why hide this in the darkness?”

“It was not always so dark in here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come and I will show you.”

Her curiosity sped her feet to keep up with his longer strides as he continued along the outer wall. When he stopped, she bumped into him. His laugh echoed oddly.

“Here,
chérie,
” he said, taking her hands and placing them on the wall. “Wait right here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Have patience.”

“You are enjoying my impatience.”

“As you have enjoyed mine.”

Abigail wondered if he could see her blush through the deep shadows. She could not mistake the meaning of his words. He had been more patient with his ankle and with being away from his ship than with his desire for her.

She heard a thump, then a second one before Dominic called, “Abigail?”

“Where are you?”

“Up here.”

“
Up there?
” She tried to see him, but saw only darkness. Then she realized that directly above her head there was a different shade of black about the size and shape of a settee.

“Take my hands,
chérie.
”

“Your hands?” She laughed. “I would if I could see them.”

He reached down from wherever he was and grabbed her hands. “Hold tight!”

She laughed again as he pulled her up through a hole in the ceiling. When she sat on its edge, she glanced around. All she saw was more darkness.

“Move away,
chérie.
”

“To where?” She put out her hands but discovered nothing, not even a wall.

Dominic chuckled as his hands settled on her waist. He lifted her back from the hole, sitting her on something that was softer than the wood at the edge.

Putting out her fingers, she found the wall. She followed it up and realized that the ceiling in this space was not far above her head. The top of Dominic's would brush it.

A thump resonated through what must be a small storage room. “What was that?” she cried. “Dominic! Are you still here?”

“I am here.”

“Where are you?”

“Here.” His hands edged her face, turning it to the right.

“What is this place?”

“The perfect place,
chérie.
” His fingers stroked her cheeks before sifting up through her hair. The caress of his breath lured her mouth toward his. As her lips found his, he leaned her back. She gasped with amazement when the softness enveloped her.

As he loosened the ribbons on her bonnet, tossing it aside, she whispered, “Clarissa said they were not allowed in here.”

“Exactly.” His laugh was low and rough. “No one will disturb us here. No maids bringing hot water to soak my ankle. No footmen bringing polished boots. No Lady Sudley making sure that we are comfortable.” He slipped his arm beneath her as his strong hands pulled her against his hard body. “This is the best comfort I can imagine.”

Her mouth was tilted under his before she could ask another question. Tenderly he kissed her. She could not fight the yearning his kiss invoked. As his mouth moved along her neck, she gasped with delight. He entangled his fingers in her hair, holding her closer as his fingers slipped up her back. He rolled above her, and she could not silence her moan of need.

She pulled his mouth down to hers, desperate for this pleasure that should never have been. She did not care about the loyalties that tried to pull them apart. All she wanted was this stolen moment, lighting the darkness with the sweet fires of their passion.

When he stroked her breast, a flash of ecstasy coursed through her as she softened beneath him. Everything in her world narrowed to his fingers caressing the tip of her breast and his mouth warmly moist against her neck. She enfolded him to her.

He pulled her over him and laughed, his breath caressing her, as he lowered the shoulder of her gown down her arm at the same time as he was unhooking its back. His finger trailed down her spine, an eager caress as he laved her skin with his fiery tongue. Sitting up, he put his hands on her hips to keep her kneeling on either side of his legs. Slowly his fingers glided up to the drooping front of her gown.

“This is no good,” he whispered.

“No good?” She could barely speak the words because she was overmastered by this delight. Wasn't he sharing it? “Dominic, if—”

“Hush,
chérie
. How can I make love with you when I cannot see your face?”

Abigail squinted as sunlight crashed into the narrow space. He had opened a narrow door in the roof, she realized. A door edged with iron bars, so no one could enter or leave. So many questions battered her lips, but she did not voice them as she grasped his face and slanted her mouth across his.

With a husky laugh, he hooked his fingers in the front of her gown. His eyes glittered with anticipation as he lowered it along her, but his gaze did not shift from hers, even when he edged the gown off her.

“You look baffled,
chérie,
” he whispered.

“I thought … You opened the window, so I thought you wanted to see—” She sighed in voiceless rapture as he cupped her breast.

“Your face,
chérie
. I want to see your face when I touch you, when you touch me, when we are one.” His voice grew more ragged with every word. With a moan, he pulled her to him.

Her palms pressed to his back as he lowered her to the pallet and placed his mouth on the curves above her chemise. All conscious thought fled as she dissolved into a sea of delights. But not an icy sea, a heated one, for fire burned her skin where his tongue carved a line of ecstasy. With a hunger as voracious as his own, she discovered the shape of his ear as he continued to enthrall the most sensitive skin of her breast.

Quickly he removed her undergarments as she undid his waistcoat and shirt. She explored his muscular chest, delighting in giving him the pleasure he offered. When he ran his fingertips along her legs, he awoke sensations she had never guessed she could experience. Ripples flowed through her, pooling deep within her.

“You are the most beautiful woman on this earth,” he whispered as she reached for the buttons on his breeches. He started to say more, but his words vanished into a gasp when she slid his breeches along him.

“And you are the most beautiful man.”

His laugh thrilled her when he drew her atop him again. He held her hips to his, and she quivered with uncontrollable yearning as his hardness teased her. She wanted this. She wanted
him
.

A cataclysm built inside her as he caressed her boldly, seeking the secrets that soon would be all around him. She moved with the tempo of his touch as his kisses seared deep into her.

She needed no urging to touch him. Throwing aside every inhibition, she discovered how to bring him pleasure with her fingers and her lips. Each reaction echoed within her, offering him what she knew he had wanted since their eyes first met. Now she did, as well.

He murmured sweet, wordless endearments against her mouth as he brought them together. His pulsating heat captured her. She gazed up at him as he whispered her name. Eagerly she matched his motions as he led her to delights unknown.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew his mouth to hers as she became lost in ecstasy. In one great crescendo of sensation, she shattered into prisms which revealed the very colors of her soul.

Abigail opened her eyes when kisses teased her eyelid. Smiling, she lifted her fingers to trace Dominic's lips.

“Happy?” he whispered.

“Is that an order, Captain St. Clair?”

He chuckled and watched her reaction when his laughter brushed her wherever their bodies touched. “How can anyone who tastes as sweet as you be so tart?”