His Wicked Kiss (42 page)

They had done it,
Eden
thought later that afternoon, as six of Jack’s crewmen rowed her to shore through the floating mist. They had crossed the wild sea, and now, at long last, she would plant her feet on dry land again. It wasn’t
England
—not yet—and in truth, she had come to love life aboard
The Winds of Fortune
, but Lord, she was glad to get off that ship.

Every stroke of the oars dipping rhythmically into the gray-green waves lengthened the distance between her and the mighty gunship. Behind them, greedy seagulls circled the masts, clamoring for handouts. The sound of the ship’s bell and the working crew’s sea chanty faded as the pounding rhythm of the surf grew louder.

Eden
sat on the rocking cutter’s low cross-bench, gripping the sides in nervous excitement and shivering with the cold. Phineas was wedged in against Jack’s sea trunk from the sleeping cabin, now filled with
Eden
’s newly made dresses and extra clothes for Jack. The Nipper was coming ashore, too, since his Auntie Moynahan was Jack’s housekeeper, but
Eden
ignored the boy’s eager prattle, caught up in studying this new land.

From a lush tropical paradise to the austere vastness of the ocean, she had now arrived at a whole new landscape completely unknown to her—one where the air was fresh and chill, where the breakers pounded the stark black rocks that strewed the beach. Here and there the slamming waves curled upward into tall, dramatic plumes of flying foam.

Beyond the craggy beaches, alive with all their watery motion, mysterious green hills beckoned, sculpted in smoothly undulant curves, with even more mysterious valleys between them.

The late March weather was not promising, true. Her first view of
Ireland
ahead was bleak and overcast, its desolate beauty whispering of grief and bloodshed, ancient heartbreak; but when the sun broke out through the heavy, piled clouds and etched everything with a glimmer of gold, she could suddenly
feel
the magic on these shores. She half expected to see mermaids twirling through the waves.

Ahead, a sturdy dock jutted forth to receive them, reminding Eden nostalgically of the rickety one in the jungle where her journey had begun; but her heart lifted higher still when she caught sight of the powerful figure waiting for her there, bathed in the sudden, fleeting sunshine.

Jack.

The mere sight of him warmed her by several degrees. He had gone ashore a few hours ahead of her to make some preparations while she packed her things: He had wished to give the servants at his estate a few miles inland at least some forewarning that he and his new bride were on their way.

He was also dispatching riders with messages for a few of his friends—Irish officers who had fought under
Wellington
in
Spain
. Eden knew of his plans because she had been given the task of copying Jack’s letter five times over, asking each of the officers spread throughout the various counties of Ireland to come and meet with Jack in secret.

He had explained to
Eden
that if all five agreed to sign on for
South America
, they could rally about a hundred foot soldiers each from their local fighting units. Though the regiments had been formally disbanded at the war’s end, the men who had become brothers in arms in the
Peninsula
certainly kept in touch. It would be easy for them to reassemble a good number of their ranks under Bolivar.

At last, they reached the dock. Higgins lashed the longboat to a post, and then Ballast handed
Eden
up the sturdy ladder. Jack met her with a smile, clasped her hands, and pulled her to safety. Next came the Nipper. Jack lifted the child up the ladder as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour. Finally, the men hoisted the sea trunk up onto the dock.

The sailors gave her a fond salute, which she returned. She knew she would see them again in a few days, for as soon as Jack had finished his meeting with the Irish officers, they would get back on the ship and sail on to
England
.

At least that’s what she thought.

Jack hefted the trunk up onto his shoulder while the Nipper ran ahead of them, barreling down the dock toward the black coach with crimson wheels that waited to carry them all to his estate. A stout old coachman took a quick nip from his flask before hooping down off the driver’s box to bend and hug Phineas, who ran to him.

“Uncle Pete!”

“He knows all the servants,” Jack explained when
Eden
looked at him in surprise. “They raised him, you see.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Peter,” Jack chided in amusement when the coachman started to set the boy aside to help his master. Jack loaded their sea chest into the boot of the coach without need of his servant’s help, secured it there, and then led her over to the carriage door.

After introducing her to his trusty driver, Jack handed her up into the coach. At once, the smell of well-oiled leather and horses replaced the bracing scent of sea brine and salty oak planks.

When the Nipper had jumped up, tumbling into the seat beside her, Jack shut the door with a smile and locked it.

“Aren’t you coming?” she exclaimed.

“Of course,” he said, adjusting his thick black leather gauntlets. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather ride. I’ve been cooped up too long on that ship, and he’s been too long in the stable.” He nodded to the left.

Following his glance,
Eden
beheld a magnificent cherry-bay stallion in the nearby grove of trees, his glossy coat gleaming like burnished copper in the golden sunshine, the breeze rippling through his long, sweeping mane and tail of pure black silk.

Tall and absolutely stunning, the fiery steed pawed the ground impatiently as a liveried groom on foot held the reins, awaiting Jack’s return.

“It’s Fleet Apollo!” Phineas cried, rushing to the window. “He’s the fastest horse in all the county!”

“The pride of my stables,” Jack conceded with a smile.

Eden
stared at the splendid creature as Jack gave her a farewell nod and walked away. He took the reins and mounted up with an easy swing, his dark greatcoat swirling around him; she caught a glimpse of his buff breeches spattered in mud and his shiny black riding boots. As he tugged the brim of his half-scrolled hat a bit lower over his eyes, she thought he looked for all the world like some romantic highwayman. Settling into the saddle, he leaned forward and gave his horse’s neck a firm pat.

As the groom strode toward the carriage to take his post beside the driver,
Eden
suddenly jumped out. Jack sent her a curious glance, urging the horse forward a few steps, but when she smiled at him, understanding dawned, twinkling in his turquoise eyes.

“Lady Jay, what are you doing?” Phineas called, but
Eden
’s stare was fixed on her beautiful man astride his beautiful horse.

Bringing the stallion to a halt beside her, Jack reached his hand down to her, smiling as he stared into her eyes, with the broad blue sky behind him.

Eden
took his hand without hesitation, set her foot atop his boot, and sprang up onto the horse with him. He laughed as he hooked his arm securely around her waist; sitting sidesaddle across the horse’s withers, she gripped the stallion’s jet-black mane.

“Ready?” her husband whispered, wrapping his arm more tightly around her waist.

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Hey!” the Nipper shouted as they surged past the carriage.

“See you at the house, boy!” Jack boomed, his deep voice full of suppressed laughter as the coach lurched into motion behind them.

In moments, they had left the coach far behind. Jack let the mighty Irish hunter stretch out, sweeping along the muddy road at a racer’s gallop. The sun shone more brightly, and
Eden
laughed aloud at the animal’s thrilling power, his hoof beats pounding the turf like a drum. Up hills and through dales, past meadows dotted with dingy sheep, they scared a flock of blackbirds up from the stubbled corn and sent a clutch of rabbits darting off through the brambles.

Rounding a bend on the crest of a windy hill, a gust of air mussed her chignon and sent her hair tumbling down about her shoulders.

When they came upon a jaunting cart carrying four nuns back to their convent in the valley, Jack slowed his horse to greet their neighbors. The sisters knew him at once, and when Jack introduced
Eden
as his wife, they looked their amazement, and then gave the two of them a fond benediction there in the road, blessing their marriage and promising their prayers for a happy and a fruitful union.

They rode on at a slower pace, and when the nuns were out of sight, Jack kissed her. “Barely ashore, and already you’re winning hearts,” he murmured.

“It’s the red hair,” she teased softly. “They probably think I’m Irish.”

“Well, considering where you’ve come from, I think you’ll be happy to hear there are no snakes in
Ireland
. Saint Patrick drove them out, you see.”

“Ah, no snakes! What a pity. Jack?”

“Yes, love?”

“The nuns called me ‘my lady.’ ”

“Well, of course, dear. It is your due.”

“Oh.” She marveled to absorb this. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

He laughed and urged his horse on.

Within an hour, Jack turned Fleet Apollo off the road, cantering through a pair of tall wrought-iron gates.
Eden
’s heart beat faster as they rode up the long graveled drive, but when the “house” came into view, her jaw dropped.

“Jack—it’s a castle,” she blurted out, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry, you will find it very comfortable, I’m sure. Part of it is all made new, with every modern convenience.”

She couldn’t even find her voice to tell him she hadn’t been complaining. She was simply in shock.

A real castle! There were brooding towers and formidable walls hewn from timeworn gray stone. Irregular additions jutted this way and that, made by various owners over the centuries. But the most recent bit was the main block in the center.

Through the skill of some cunning architect, a large neo-Gothic house built in front of the ancient keep somehow pulled the whole pile together, a castle-fortress fantasy with a crenellated portico above the massive front doors and matching towers framing the front face. The trim around the tall, narrow windows was fresh and white; not a weed grew out of place. It was as impeccably kept as the spotless decks of
The Winds of Fortune
.

The place was pure Jack.

Every modern convenience, indeed, she thought. As he had pointed out, the stern Gothic fantasy was tempered by a hint of Classical ease, as if to assure the viewer that, inside, the home was graced with every luxury. She shook her head, amazed.

When they came to a halt in the sprawling courtyard, half a dozen servants came running. She couldn’t tell the grooms from the footmen, though she guessed that the fellow in black was the butler, and the round lady with apple cheeks must be Mrs. Moynahan.

Eden
’s head was spinning. Amid a chorus of “Welcome, my lady!” Jack shooed the staff aside and helped her down from the horse. But instead of setting her on her feet, he shifted her into his arms and strode toward the front door, carrying her over the threshold.

Giving her a gentle kiss, he set her down inside.
Eden
nearly stumbled, staring all around her at the great hall, with its dark, carved wood, stained glass, and wondrous age-old tapestries; its gleaming flagstone diamond squares of white and bluish gray; its soaring corbeled ceiling painted white, and the cozy inglenook with a fireplace taller than she was.

“Well?” Jack murmured, watching her. “You are the lady of this house now. What do you think?”

“Shiver me timbers,” she whispered, and the whole staff burst out laughing.

The next three days passed as a beautiful dream, each moment like a pearl. Three days of shining love… and unbridled passion.

The heat of their desire awoke the spring, melted away the gray dreary frost, and began to revive the trampled grasses back to their emerald green. They made love constantly: in the grand bedchamber; in the stable; in the curtained inglenook before a roaring fire, atop a rich fur throw; in the back stairwell, rough and quick; against a tree that overlooked the valley. They simply could not get enough of each other.

Now and then, of course,
Eden
sensed the shadow lurking beneath Jack’s tender manner, but she attributed it to his understandable concern about his mission.

For now, however, three blissful days, all work was set aside. She had never known such joy, such pure relaxation, and above all, such love. She could hardly believe how much Jack had come to matter to her or how much she knew she had come to matter to Jack. She had never been so close to anyone before in her entire life. He was more than just her husband or her lover, he had become her dearest friend.