Pure Temptation (25 page)

The night was indeed fine, Moira thought as she and Paddy walked through the fields. After an interminable silence, Paddy said, “I know about your babe, Moira. Kevin told me. You need a husband and I need a wife. I promise to be a good husband if you’ll promise to take care of my children. Kayla’s death was a shock to all of us, ’twas so unexpected. I can’t cope with two motherless children. I need you as surely as you need me. We’ve known one another for years. I remember when you were born. A wee little thing with beautiful eyes. You haven’t changed, Moira. Will you marry me?”

Moira realized that this was probably the longest speech Paddy had ever made, and she was curiously touched. “You’re kind, Paddy, and as good a man as I’ll ever find, but…”

“I know I’m not the father of your babe, but Kevin said there’s no chance he’ll show up to marry you. I don’t think any less of you for…” He gestured helplessly, at a loss for words. “Being in this predicament. God said that he who is without guilt should cast the first stone. I’ll never cast stones at you, lass. Your babe will be treated the same as my own.”

“I know, Paddy. Kevin is right, you truly are a good man. I’ve always known it, just as I know you’ll always love Kayla. It isn’t right to saddle you with another man’s child.”

“Wouldn’t I be saddling you with two children who aren’t yours?” Paddy rebutted. “’Tis the same thing, to my thinking.”

“I need time to think, Paddy. I’ll give you my answer in a day or two.”

Nothing convinced Moira more than Kevin’s absolute
certainty that marrying Paddy would be right for both her and Paddy. Since love wasn’t involved, not even considered, she expected no emotional involvement. She refused to think about marital rights, which Paddy would doubtlessly expect. She knew she would have to endure it for her child’s sake no matter how repugnant it was to her. For a brief moment, she entertained the notion of returning to England and becoming Jack’s mistress. But what man would want a mistress large and ungainly with child?

Did Jack even want children? She vaguely recalled him mentioning that he wanted her for the mother of his children, but she didn’t put any faith in words uttered when lust ruled his brain. Men often said things they didn’t mean when thinking with their loins instead of their minds. God, she was confused. Jack had been so angry with her before she left, she could well imagine his rage when he found her gone without a word or message.

The very fact that Jack hadn’t followed her to Ireland proved how little he cared for her. Stealing his money probably hadn’t endeared her to him, but she’d had no choice. He would have forced her to become his mistress had she remained. A man’s pride was his honor, and she had wounded Jack’s pride by refusing to marry him. Perhaps she
should
have wed him, she reconsidered. That idea died as soon as it was born. She couldn’t bear watching his love wither and die when his friends cut him off and he became an outcast in society.

Two days later, Moira agreed to marry Paddy. Kevin was overjoyed to see his sister’s honor saved, but Katie had reservations. Paddy’s rather sterile kiss sealed the bargain and afterward, recalling that passionless kiss, Moira imagined living out her life in joyless companionship. Of course the children would bring her a certain amount of happiness, but it wasn’t the same as lying in the arms of a man she loved, responding to his caresses with nearly mindless ecstasy.

Jack paced the length of his room and back, his mind sluggish, his legs unsteady beneath him. Lord, how could he have fallen so low? He’d been drunk before, but never had he suffered guilt over his inebriated condition. Spence had lost patience with him, and Pettibone’s staunch disapproval was the bane of his existence. The sorry state of the food Matilda placed before him when he took time to eat hardly passed for civilized fare. Jilly acted as if it were he who had turned Moira out of the house. He’d wanted to marry Moira—didn’t they know that?

To make matters worse, Spence still hadn’t discovered the identity of the man pictured in Moira’s locket. Though vaguely familiar, Spence hadn’t come up with a name. Jack couldn’t understand why the man in the locket should be important, but something told him he was.

Planting himself in a wing chair, Jack stared into space, remembering the taste, the scent, the utter joy of possessing Moira. When he was with Moira, he felt so alive, so content and at peace with the world. Then he recalled how she had refused to marry him, and the joy he felt withered inside him. She had hurt him deeply, and he had retaliated by demanding that she become his mistress. Unfortunately, Moira had reacted in a manner he’d not expected. He wondered if she’d have left him if she’d known his old devils made him treat her in such a despicable manner. Now it was pride that was keeping him from following her to Ireland.

Hurry.

Jack raised his head and peered bleary-eyed into the dark corners of the room, seeing nothing but hazy shadows. But he didn’t have to see her to know Lady Amelia was about to pay him another visit. He shot to his feet and poured himself a drink from the decanter sitting on the table next to his chair. He raised his glass in salute and said, “Here’s to the Devil, milady.” He drank deeply, nearly gagging at the vile
taste. He raised the bottle to inspect the date and found it a very good year. With a curse, he threw the remainder of the brandy into the fire. He watched numbly as the fire flared and Lady Amelia materialized from the center of the flames.

Hurry.

“Go away, damn you! Can’t you see I don’t need you? You’ve brought me nothing but trouble. I was happy until you decided to reform me. I told you it was too late. The Devil’s clutches are too deeply embedded in me.”

He
shan’t have you.

Jack gave a bark of laughter. “You’re too late, milady, he’s already claimed me.”

You must go to Moira. She needs you.

“She doesn’t want me. She made that abundantly clear.”

Men
are such fools.

“What about pride? Aren’t men allowed their pride?”

Lady Amelia bowed her head, and Jack swore he could see tears flowing down her cheeks. He knew he hadn’t been mistaken when a drop of water splashed on the floor at her feet.

“What in bloody hell do you want from me? Go away, damn it, just go away!”

Lady Amelia pointed a finger at him, saying nothing, merely looking at him with the saddest expression Jack had ever seen. “Moira doesn’t want me. She’s gone. She played me for a fool, milady.”

Your child needs you.

“I have no child,” Jack scoffed. “Perhaps you’ve gotten me confused with some other Graystoke from another generation.”

Your child…Your child…Your child…

Lady Amelia’s words pounded against Jack’s sodden brain until he thought it would burst. Clapping his hands over his ears, he tried to obliterate her words. Instead they grew louder and more insistent. Finally Jack could take no more. Grasping the brandy decanter by the neck, he flung it at the
ghost. It passed through her and crashed harmlessly against the wall.

Remember my words. I won’t be back.

“Good riddance,” Jack snapped peevishly. “Find someone else to haunt.”

“Lord Jack, are you all right?” Pettibone burst into the room, a candle held high to light his way, his nightshirt flapping around his bony legs. “I heard a crash, milord.”

Jack glanced toward the fireplace and was relieved to see that Lady Amelia had vanished. “Go back to bed, Pettibone,” Jack said grumpily. “I dropped the decanter. You can clean up in the morning.”

Pettibone glanced at the wall, saw rivulets of liquid trailing down to the floor and knew Jack’s explanation was far too simple. “Very good, milord. Good night, then.” He closed the door quietly behind him, fearing that his young master was losing his sanity.

Jack sat brooding long after Pettibone left, wondering if Lady Amelia would return or if she’d really meant what she’d said. The longer he brooded, the more puzzling her words became. She knew he had no children, so why did she insist his child needed him?

“Damn you,” he muttered plaintively. “What did you mean?”

Lady Amelia chose not to answer. Nor did she reappear.

Suddenly Jack bolted upright in his chair, stone-cold sober for the first time in weeks. Could it be? Was Moira carrying his child? Had she left specifically to deprive him of his child? Rage seethed through him. The anger he felt before was nothing compared to what he felt now. Moira had no right, no right at all to keep something as important as his child from him. She may not want him for a husband, but the law was on his side. He still had the special license. If she was indeed pregnant, he would make her his wife no matter how fiercely she protested.

The following morning, Pettibone found Jack not only up at an ungodly early hour, but he appeared to be sober. “Ah, Pettibone, you’ve arrived in time to pack a bag for me.”

“A bag, milord? Are you going somewhere?”

“To Ireland. Instruct the coachman to ready the coach for a journey to the coast. Young Colin will accompany us. ’Tis faster than taking a packet from London. With any luck, I will be in Kilkenney inside a week.”

Pettibone’s face lit up. “You’re going after Miss Moira? Thank God you’ve finally come to your senses.”

“Aye, Pettibone, I’ve regained my wits. Moira has something of mine, and I want it.”

Pettibone blanched. “If you’re referring to the money she stole, ’twas a paltry sum. Surely you don’t intend pressing charges, do you?”

Jack sent him an oblique look. “Don’t worry, Pettibone. Pressing charges is not my intention, though I can’t promise not to wring her graceful little neck once I get my hands on her. Enough chitchat. Bring my bag down when it’s packed. I’ll leave directly after breakfast.”

Jack’s departure was delayed by the arrival of Spence, who appeared in a high state of excitement. “Going somewhere, Jack? I saw a bag in the foyer. I’m glad I caught you before you left. I have information on the man pictured in Moira’s locket. You’ll never guess who he is.”

Somewhat distracted by Spence’s unexpected appearance, Jack’s attention sharpened when Spence blurted out his news. “Come into the study and tell me what you learned. I’m glad you caught me before I left for Ireland. It could be important or it could mean nothing, but either way, I want to be armed with the knowledge when I confront Moira.”

“You’re going after Moira,” Spence said, more or less resigned to the fact that Jack was head over heels in love with her. Despite his warning, Spence knew Jack intended to flout society and marry Moira. Perhaps the resulting scandal
wouldn’t be quite as bad as he assumed it would be, Spence reflected. But if it was, he imagined Black Jack Graystoke would weather the storm in his own inimitable fashion.

“Aye,” Jack admitted, “the moment you tell me what you learned.”

“You’ll never believe it, Jack. I certainly didn’t. The man is highly respected and his name a legend of his time. He was a personal advisor to King George. He retired five years ago due to ill health. He now resides quietly in the country.”

“Sweet Lord, you don’t mean…No, it couldn’t be. Why would Moira carry a picture of the Earl of Pembroke?”

“Aye, ’tis true. Herbert Montgomery, the Earl of Pembroke. The miniature looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until yesterday that I learned it might be the earl.”

“Then you’re not sure,” Jack said, clearly disappointed.

“Not entirely certain. Only the earl himself can identify the picture. But he was once in the British army and quartered in Ireland.”

“How did you come by the knowledge that it was the Earl of Pembroke’s likeness in Moira’s locket?”

“As a last resort, I showed the likeness to Father. He said he’d seen the very same picture hanging in Lord Herbert’s gallery when he was invited to his country home for the hunt many years ago. He assumed it was Lord Herbert as a young man. So there you have it.”

“You may be right, but I understand none of it. Moira said the locket belonged to her dead grandmother, handed down to Moira by her mother.”

“What do you think it means?” Spence asked curiously.

“Damned if I know. Before I return to England, I’ll have the answer. You’ve been a tremendous help, Spence. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Don’t mention it. I just hope the information helps you in some way. I’m not sure we can ever get Lord Herbert to
verify the fact that he is the man in the miniature, for he’s a virtual recluse now. His only son died years ago, and he has no children or grandchildren to inherit the title.”

“I’ll contact you when I return. Moira isn’t going to get away with keeping me in the dark about…” His sentence trailed off, unwilling to disclose information that may or may not be true. But true or not, Moira belonged to him, and willing or not, mistress or wife, she was going to remain his.

Moira stared at the pounding rain through the tiny window of her room. The day was as bleak as her heart. Bloated clouds turned the sky dark and forbidding. The air was heavy, thick and depressing; the wind was becoming brisker by the minute. The dismal day matched her mood. It was too late for tears, too late for second thoughts. Today was her wedding day.

The quiet ceremony was to take place that morning in the village church, witnessed by her family. It wasn’t a match made in heaven but one of convenience. Moira was certain the whole village knew of the wedding, but not the reason for haste. She hoped they would assume it was because of Paddy’s need for a mother for his children and not because she was swelling with another man’s child.

A timid knock on the door brought Moira out of her reverie and back to the present. “ ’Tis Kevin, lass.”

“Come in.”

“We’ll wait a while longer for the rain to let up before starting for the church,” Kevin said, taking note of her paleness. “Are you all right, lass?”

“I’m fine, Kevin. Do you think this dress will do? ’Tis the best of the lot I brought with me from England.” Moira pirouetted slowly before Kevin. Fashioned of violet brocade and lace, the gown fit her still-slim figure to perfection.

“You look lovely, lass. I’ve never seen you in anything so grand. Try not to fret. Everything will turn out fine. I promise.”

“Nothing will ever be fine again, Kevin. I know Paddy is a good man, but he isn’t Jack.”

Kevin’s attention sharpened. “Jack? Is that the name of the bastard who seduced you and left you with child?”

Realizing she said more than she intended, Moira sought to diffuse Kevin’s curiosity. “The man’s name is of little importance since you’re unlikely to meet him. I’ll not disappoint you again, Kevin. I’ll be a good wife to Paddy.”

“I’m not disappointed in you, lass. You’re a special woman. Your Englishman doesn’t know what he lost, and I’m not about to tell him. He doesn’t deserve you and the babe. Now,” he said, lifting her chin, “give me a smile.”

Moira’s lips wobbled into a parody of a smile, which seemed to satisfy Kevin. He left her then, to her dismal thoughts, until the rain let up enough to permit them to reach the church without getting soaked to the skin. An hour later, the rain had diminished to a fine mist. Kevin loaded the family into the farm wagon and set out for Kilkenny.

Jack debarked at Rossiare Harbor before dawn, the first person to step off the mail packet. He rented a horse at the livery and asked directions to Kilkenny. Suffering through a long, tedious ride, Jack hoped Moira appreciated all the trouble he was going through to reach her. Steady rain made a quagmire of the one-lane road and chilled Jack to the bone. He reached Kilkenny wet, hungry and feeling very much put upon.

The muddy, rutted lane through Kilkenny was nearly deserted, due to the inclement weather. Since Jack had no idea where the O’Toole farm was located, he decided to find a room at an inn and ask for directions to the farm. When the grocer stepped out of his shop to peer at him, Jack reined in his horse. “Can you direct me to an inn, sir?”

“Only one inn in town, mister. The Gull and Tern is two blocks down on the right side of the street. You can’t miss it.”

Jack found the inn with little trouble and paid in advance for the best room it had to offer. “Can you direct me to the O’Toole farm?” he asked the innkeeper before going up to inspect his room.

Strangers in Kilkenny were looked upon with suspicion, and Jack was no exception. “Are ye a friend of the O’Tooles, mister? Don’t recollect Kevin or the missus knowing any Englishmen.”

“I’m a friend of Miss Moira O’Toole.”

A relieved look passed over the innkeeper’s florid features. “Why didn’t ye say so? Are ye here for the wedding?”

Jack went still. “The wedding?”

“Aye, Miss Moira and Paddy McGuire are tying the knot.”

Jack’s heart beat like a trip-hammer. How dare Moira marry another man?

“Aye, I’m here for the wedding. I’m not too late, am I?”

“The rain held up the ceremony. If ye hurry, ye might be in time to hear Father Sian pronounce them husband and wife.”

Jack cursed beneath his breath. “For God’s sake, man, direct me to the church!”

“Turn right at the corner; ye can’t miss it. ’Tis the only building with a steeple.”

Jack was out the door before the innkeeper finished speaking. The curious innkeeper walked to the doorway to watch Jack gallop off. He shook his head and muttered something about impatient Englishmen with no manners.

Jack located the church within minutes. He spied the farm wagon parked outside and feared he was too late. How could Moira wed another man when all she had to do was say the word and he’d have married her? He prayed he wasn’t too late to stop this farce. If she carried his child, not even a religious ceremony would stop him from taking what was his.

Worked into a frenzy of fear and anger, Jack burst into the church. The murmur of voices drew him through the vestibule
to the main part of the church. Shock rendered him mute for all of thirty seconds when he saw Moira standing before the altar beside a giant of a man, listening to the priest intone words that would join them irrevocably.

He found his tongue in a rush of words. “Stop! Stop the wedding!”

The priest looked up, bewildered. Moira turned slowly, recognizing Jack’s voice instantly. In a single moment, Jack saw her paleness, her trembling lips, her pinched features, the thinness of her small frame, and knew intuitively that she carried his child.

“Jack.” His name was a sigh on her lips.

“Who in the hell are you?” Kevin thundered.

For the first time, Jack noticed the other people in the church. The man who had spoken had to be Moira’s brother. They had the same look about them. “I’m Jack Graystoke, Duke of Ailesbury.”

“I don’t care who you are! You have no right to barge in here and disrupt my sister’s wedding.”

Jack strode down the aisle, his volatile presence disrupting the ceremony. “I have every right in the world. Your sister is carrying my child.”

Moira moaned in despair. “How did you know? I didn’t even know myself until a short time ago.”

Jack’s silver gaze pinned her. “I don’t suppose you were going to tell me I was going to be a father, were you?”

The priest looked distraught. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I suggest we get on with the wedding.”

“Aye,” Moira whispered. “Please continue, Father Sian.”

“Over my dead body,” Jack roared.

Kevin stepped forward, facing Jack nose-to-nose. “That can be arranged, Your Lordship. My sister doesn’t need you. You seduced her and left her with child.”

“If that’s what Moira claimed, I won’t argue the point. However, no one but me is going to raise my child.”

Father Sian raised his hand for quiet. “Is what this man claims true, lass?” he asked Moira. “Are you carrying his child?”

When Moira remained mute, Paddy sent her a compassionate smile and stepped forward. “ ’Tis true, Father. I don’t wish to deprive a father of his child. I’m still willing to marry Moira, but not until this matter is settled between them.”

“I agree,” Father Sian said, sending Moira a censuring look. “If Lord Graystoke is the father of your child, he should be consulted before you do anything rash. Perhaps His Grace wishes to right a wrong by marrying you.”

Moira glared at Jack. Did no one understand why she couldn’t marry a lord of the realm? “I’m going to marry Paddy McGuire.”

Jack returned her stare impassively. His opinion of the man Moira had chosen to wed rose the moment Paddy McGuire agreed to step out of the picture. “I don’t know you, Mr. McGuire, but you appear to be a reasonable man. I don’t know what Moira told you, but as you can see, I’m not willing to give up my child to another man. I wish to speak to Moira alone.”

“Now see here, milord,” Kevin blustered as he shielded his sister protectively. “You seduced my sister. She was an innocent before she met you. I don’t know what happened between you, but Moira wouldn’t be willing to marry another man if she cared for you.”

Jack sent Kevin a chilling glare. “Did Moira tell you she didn’t care for me? Did she tell you I proposed marriage?”

Kevin looked at Moira uncertainly. “Do you want to be alone with this man, lass? I’ll abide by whatever you say.”

The lump in Moira’s throat had reached monumental proportions. She swallowed convulsively before the ability to think returned. The shock of seeing Jack in Ireland had rendered her speechless. But learning that he was aware of
her pregnancy when she had just come to that conclusion herself was frightening in the extreme. Not to mention profoundly confusing.

“I’ll speak with Lord Jack alone,” Moira said.

“Very wise,” Jack said with quiet menace. He was certain she knew that if she refused he’d have carried her out bodily despite her brother’s rather threatening attitude. “The rest of you can go along home. I’ll bring Moira to you after our talk, if she still wants to go.”

When Kevin seemed reluctant to leave, Katie nudged him in the ribs. “Moira knows what she’s doing, Kevin. I’m sure His Grace won’t hurt her.”

“He’d better not,” Kevin warned.

“If he does, he’ll answer to me,” Paddy said, adding his own threat to that of Kevin’s.

“Fear not,” Jack said, sending both men a look that would have melted iron. “I’m not a violent man. Do you think I’d harm the mother of my child?”

Somewhat mollified, Kevin left, followed in close order by Katie, the children, Paddy and Father Sian, who closed the door behind him. Alone at last with Moira, Jack pointed to a pew and said, “Sit down. You look ready to collapse.”

Only too glad to take the weight off her quivering legs, Moira sank into the hard bench, never taking her eyes off Jack. “How did you know?” she whispered shakily. “Kevin, Katie and Paddy are the only ones I told.”

Jack’s brow lifted in surprise. “You told the man you were planning to marry that you carried another man’s child?”

“It didn’t matter to Paddy. He’s a good man. His wife died recently, and he needs a wife to care for his two motherless children. We’ve known one another all our lives.”

“He looks old enough to be your father.”

Her chin rose fractionally. “He was willing to marry me and raise my child.”

“
I
was willing to marry you,” Jack reminded her. “Needless to say, you’re
not
going to marry Paddy McGuire. If you marry anyone, it’s going to be me.”

Jack’s arrogance tried Moira’s Irish temper. He could demand all he liked, but she wasn’t going to marry him. She was aware that stubbornness was largely responsible for her decision, but no man was going to dictate to her.

“I
won’t
marry you.”

“I see,” Jack said with a calmness that belied his fury. “Raising a bastard won’t be easy. Of course, I’ll take care of you and the child, but think of the shame you’ll bring to your family.” Since Moira didn’t react to reason, he decided to try another ploy. “The house I rented is still waiting for you should you decide to become my mistress.”

Moira’s eyes glowed angrily. “I’m going to marry Paddy.”

“Over my dead body. Bloody hell, Moira, do you realize the anguish your leaving so abruptly caused me? My staff began to fear for my sanity. Pettibone treated me like a pariah, and Matilda set meals before me that weren’t fit to eat. Jilly acted as if I’d committed murder. They all blamed me for chasing you away.”

“You were going to set me up as your mistress,” Moira charged.

“You pushed me into it. What I offered was an honorable proposal of marriage. A man can be driven only so far, and I’d reached my limit. I went as far as my pride would allow.”

Jack’s words rattled Moira’s composure. Everything Jack said was true. He had saved her life, not once, but twice. He took her in and cared for her when she was injured. The prank he tried to pull on society backfired, but she could forgive him that. It had been a harebrained scheme from the very beginning. Falling in love with Jack hadn’t been part of the plan, and making love with him had come as naturally as breathing. She had given him up because she loved him too much to marry him and cause a scandal.

Jack watched the play of emotion across Moira’s lovely features. He saw determination, stubbornness, compassion, confusion and, yes, love. He smiled inwardly. No amount of denial could change the way she felt. Now he must convince her that he didn’t give a bloody damn what society thought of their marriage. In Moira’s absence, he had tried reverting back to the Black Jack of old and had failed miserably. What he wanted now was to be the best father and husband he knew how. No matter how big a scandal their marriage caused, some new scandal would replace it, and in time society would forgive his lapse. Not that he cared. Enough of the old Black Jack remained to make him oblivious to gossip. He’d flouted society before and probably would do so again.

Suddenly it occurred to Moira that Jack never did explain how he knew she was pregnant. She sought to remedy his omission. “How did you know I was going to have your child? Do you have the ‘sight’?”

Jack grinned, recalling Lady Amelia’s words and how puzzled they had left him. “Lady Amelia told me.”

Moira frowned. “The ghost?”

“Aye. But I fear I offended her. She lost patience with me when I fell back into dissolute ways. I doubt she’ll reappear any time soon.”

“You talked to a ghost?” Moira repeated.

Jack paused thoughtfully, recalling his conversations with Lady Amelia. Though she’d spoken no words aloud, he knew exactly what she said. Call it telepathy, call it what you will, her words had penetrated his brain without sound.

“You might say that. Lady Amelia sent me to you that night I found you lying in the gutter. She told me you’d save me from perdition. Of course I didn’t believe her. I didn’t even want saving. I was content with my rakehell life. She must be quite pleased with herself by now. I almost married Victoria, and that frightens the hell out of me.”

Moira found all this hard to believe. “How could I save you when I didn’t even know you?”