Hope's Betrayal (14 page)

"Hope, what
have you done to me?"

Her hands
explored the steely muscles of his shoulder and his body responded with a
thrill of lust. Half-drunk on passion, he pulled away.

"Miss
Tyler, it was wrong of me to take advantage." Panting heavily, he stepped
aside. "I apologise for my ungentlemanly behavior. It was totally
unacceptable and will not happen again."

He stared into
the distance, a pulse pounding in his temple as Miss Tyler adjusted her gown.
He hung his head. As far as his sanity was concerned, the Admiralty's reply
couldn’t come soon enough.

*****

Nero's heaving
flanks were mottled with sweat after their ride, as Huntley pulled up. Beneath
a sapphire sky, bright with the promise of summer, it had been an exhilarating
ride—a headlong gallop for no reason other than to glory in the cob's great
muscles. They had traveled for miles until Huntley's commonsense prevailed, and
wary of overheating his mount in the midday sun, they turned for home.

In the stable
yard, as Nero submerged his velvet nose in the horse trough and drank deeply,
Huntley cupped his hands to douse his own neck with water. Rubbing his wet face
on his sleeve, he looked up at the sound of voices. Jim, the stable lad, took
the reins of a messenger's horse as the rider jumped down and made for Huntley.

"Captain
Huntley?"

"That's
me."

"A despatch
for you, sir."

Huntley
recognised the Admiralty's crest and pushed the letter into his pocket.

Only once he was
alone, did Huntley break the seal. His eyes skipped over the words and he
slumped with relief. He reread the missive; he was to hand command back to
Bennett and leave immediately for the Southwest. He nodded with silent
acceptance.  While his ship was still in refit, he would continue his
secondment to the Excise services—but working out of Plymouth. He'd gotten what
he wanted, so why this empty feeling of loss?

Anyhow, there
wasn’t time for that now. He pushed the letter back into his pocket. First, he
must break the news to his mother—that wouldn’t be easy—there was every
possibility he'd be recalled direct from Plymouth once the Swann was ready.
Entirely possible, depending on events, that he might not return to The Grange
for years. He stared at the sky, suddenly lacking the heart to distress his
mother on such a fine day. He was hot after the ride, let him first visit his
favorite childhood haunt, perhaps even cool off in the sea, a memory to
treasure in the years to come. 

As boys the
three Huntley brothers liked to play in the woods; climbing trees, building dens
or else go down to the estate's private cove. It was this secluded beach,
through the woods on the far side of The Grange, that was George's private
place and even now as a grown man, remained his preferred place to think.

A brisk walk
later, Huntley ran a finger around his collar to loosen it. In the shade of the
leafy canopy, the path was soft underfoot, moist with leaf mulch. There was a
smell of damp earth, and as he walked, Huntley smiled to see a blackbird
drilling for worms. He emerged into a small clearing where the ground shelved
down to the beach. The view was breathtaking; the sea calm, miraculous in its
many opalescent shades and suddenly Huntley longed to swim.

"Damn it,
why not?"

This afternoon
he would swim, and tonight he would break the news of his posting. This time
was his alone and in the name of nostalgia, he would explore the rock pools
where as a child he'd searched out cockles, crabs and mussels.

With a spring in
his step, Huntley headed down the steep path to the shore. In places, the cliff
had crumbled and rocks slumped into the sea forming several natural groynes. He
reached the beach as the tide was just running off—the rocks slippery with
bladderwrack. Seagulls wheeled overhead as Huntley jumped from rock to rock,
loosening his jacket as he went. It was as he clambered over the last ridge
into the private bay, that his heart catapulted against his ribs. For there,
walking away from him along the water's edge, was Hope Tyler.

His carefree
mood evaporated. How could she, the author of so much aggravation, have found
this—his special place? He watched; she appeared to have removed her shoes and
stockings, paddling in the shallows with her skirt hitched above her knees. Her
legs were shapely, a well-toned thigh hinting at the delights beyond. An
irrational yearning to hold and caress her, to run his hand up the inner side
of those thighs, tingled through his body. He reeled, shocked by the strength
of the compulsion.

Then a thought
slammed against his skull—what if Miss Tyler was here to guide in smugglers? It
would be the perfect place—a calm, secluded bay. His training kicked in and he
ducked behind a boulder to watch. In one moment of madness, he was tempted to
shout, to let Miss Tyler know she had company, and scare off the smugglers. But
to warn her betrayed everything he stood for and he would be duty bound to
resign. The navy was everything, without honor and action he was nothing…so he
waited and watched.

In fact, he
watched for so long his legs began to cramp. Miss Tyler's attention remained
focused on the sand, picking things up, turning them over in her hand and
dropping them in her pocket.

"Well,
here's a rum thing. She's collecting shells." He rubbed his calf.
"Ouch."

Something in his
movement drew Miss Tyler's attention. She shaded her eyes against the sun and
stared in his direction. Huntley swallowed his pride and stood.

"Miss
Tyler," he smiled, all innocence, "fancy meeting you here."

He clambered
over the rocky groyne while she waited on the shoreline, waves lapping around
her ankles.

"Captain
Huntley, good afternoon." 

He felt the
tension between them, and made light of it. "Good afternoon."

Her green eyes
mirrored the sea and a curl of hair bobbed against her neck, making him want to
smooth it between his fingers.

He swallowed and
nodded to the sea. "You are a most unconventional woman."

"My ankle
was sore after the walk. The water has taken the swelling down." Huntley
avoided staring at her shapely legs.

"I
expect," Hope added, "you think me immodest…but the temptation was
too great."

"Not at
all," It took all his effort to string words together. "The water
looks most inviting."

"Then why
don’t you join me for a paddle?" She stared, as if challenging him. It was
such a simple suggestion and suddenly he could think of no logical argument
against it.

"Well, I am
rather warm from the walk."

Without fully
knowing what he was doing, Huntley found himself pulling off his boots and
casting them aside. He pulled off his stockings and did likewise. The sand felt
good between his toes, slippery and cool, as he made for the water's edge. The
first wave was like ice against his skin and he gasped. Miss Tyler giggled.

"You didn’t
think it would be warm?"

"Perhaps
not quite as cold." He grinned as another wave assaulted his rapidly
numbing  feet.

"I like it
when you smile." Hope said softly, "You look so serious all the time.
You should smile more often."

"Smiling
isn’t much called for, in my line of work."

Hope merely
nodded. "Sometimes you just have to take pleasure where you can. Let's
walk."

He nodded.
Paddling in the shallows, Miss Tyler with one hand on her bonnet the other
raising her hem, Huntley walking stiffly trying to distance his emotions, hands
clasped behind his back.

"How did
you find this place?" He asked.

Hope cocked her
head. "I'm well acquainted with the coastline hereabouts."

Huntley raised a
brow. "Smuggling?"

She pursed her
lips and nodded. "Not so much here. Tis easy enough to land but difficult
to transport the goods inland. This spot is more of a safe haven if the weather
turns bad."

They walked on
in companionable silence. Something about Hope’s openness had defused his ire.
The gentle shush of the sea, the push-and-pull of the water was soothing and he
sighed. Having been responsible for uprooting Hope from her family, he really
ought to tell her about his reposting. Then he remembered he couldn’t trust
Hope not to tell the smugglers and closed his mouth. The disappointment stung
and for the umpteenth time he cursed Miss Tyler's effect on his wits—clearly
the sooner he left for Plymouth, the better.

By now, the
rocky outcrop behind which Huntley had hidden was out of sight around the curve
in the bay, and sand gave way to shingle.

"We ought
to turn back." Hope said.

"Is your
ankle hurting?"

"Not so
much now, but it's a long walk back to the house."

"Of
course."

They fell in
step together, walking in silence except for the shush of waves. Despite the
tension between them, Huntley felt strangely at ease. Hope made no attempt to
chatter, for which he was grateful. Truly, had circumstances been different,
she would make a charming companion, but they weren’t different, and he was in
danger of making a fool of himself.

"I love the
sea."

"I beg your
pardon?" he asked.

"I can’t
imagine living anywhere but by the sea."

Huntley risked a
glance as she stared dreamily ahead.

He cleared his
throat. "Why so?"

"I was
raised beside the sea. I used to lie awake at night, listening to the gulls
cry. I love the smell of the sea, especially seaweed, the changing colours, the
wind in my face, it makes me feel….alive."

"I can’t
stand being indoors." Huntley interjected. "Even on a warship, with
nothing to see but ocean, it's such a feeling of freedom, of belonging. Most
people don’t understand."

Hope breathed deeply,
savoring the salt air. "I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes, on a boat
with the wind in the sails, it's like flying, free as a bird."

His heart
swooped, she was the same as him. "Mother doesn’t understand. Not
properly. She says she does but sometimes, at her soirees, shut in with people
surrounding me, I can’t breathe. I hate not being able to see the sky."

He glanced at
Hope, challenging her to mock him, but instead her eyes shone with
understanding. They stopped walking, the water lapping around their ankles.
Huntley's heart pounded, aware of nothing but Hope; drawn by a force which
dwarfed reason, longing to kiss her and yet somehow he resisted. The waves
pulled the sand from under his feet like time ebbing away.

The moment
passed. They set off again and Huntley fixed his attention on the ripples in
the shallows. Varnished pebbles glistened like gems in the water, tendrils of
seaweed reached for Hope's ankle. Then, as Hope lifted her foot, he glimpsed a
striped shadow darting beneath it. Alarm slammed through his body.

Huntley pushed
Hope aside, their momentum sending them staggering toward the beach. Grabbing
her waist, he lost his balance as they tumbled to the sand. Lying full length,
Huntley became acutely aware of the press of her lithe body against his.

"A weaver
fish," he panted. "You were about to stand on a weaver fish."

Hope paled, her
face mere inches from his. "Thank you." Her voice trembled.

Inner turmoil
raged. Other women were as nothing, but Hope was different. She affected his
body and yet he cared enough not to hurt her. Suppressing a shudder of longing,
he tried to sit up but found his legs tangled with her skirts. Hope wriggled,
her hip bumped against his groin which sent a shaft of raw desire burning
through his body.

"Have a
care," he growled, nostrils flared.

Hope felt his
growing response and grew still, staring back with eyes dark with desire. Each
studied the other, unmoving. In that moment, her breath against his cheek,
Huntley knew he loved Hope Tyler. One kiss. Just one kiss, to prove he could
conquer this weakness. For who is stronger, the man with no weakness, or the
weak man who overcomes? Besides, what did it matter when he was going away?

He cradled her
cheek with his sandy palm, drawn to the luscious bow of her lips, those lips
which had tempted for so long. Hope smiled, her face dreamy with passion. When
he stroked her hair, she relaxed against his hand. She didn’t seem frightened,
or even surprised, staring back with those dazzling tilted eyes. He could smell
her skin and the subtle tang of salt and it made him giddy.

“Kiss me.” She
whispered, arms reaching around his neck.

His last shred
of self-control melted away. Her lips felt hot against his, that same sweet
taste, of Hope and heat which made his blood shimmy with desire. He kissed her,
as if it was his last act on earth, soul deep, worshipping her mouth. This was
more than lust, he wanted to give her pleasure, for she was the missing part to
his life. The empty hollowness which existed before, now filled by her. In that
instant he knew he would die for Hope.....no...more than that...he would kill
to protect her.