Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman (12 page)

He came to her suddenly and took her in his arms, his roughness eliciting a pleased gasp. Then he kissed her, deeply, forcing her lips apart and drinking in her moan of pleasure.

"I do not choose to kill or to die," he said quietly. "There is still too much pleasure to be had in living."

"Yes . . . yes," she whispered against his hard mouth. His rough hands and hard body filled her with heat.

"There is always tomorrow. Can you be free?"

"Rodger goes to court tomorrow."

"Oh? Something of importance?"

"I'm not sure, something about a meeting in London with Sir Ralph Waite."

He kissed her again, this time gently and so sensually he felt her melt against him.

"How can I know when we can be together if I don't

know when he is leaving and how long he will be gone?"

"He leaves tomorrow and he'll be gone for a week. He meets Lord Jemmison also, and they're going together."

"Then . . . there will be time," he whispered. "You had best go in before you are missed."

Reluctantly Anne backed away from him and rearranged her disheveled clothes. If he said the word she would follow him to the gazebo at the far end of the garden where she could find satisfaction in sating the heated need that was filling her. She looked at him hopefully, but she could see that he was regaining his cool and elusive attitude.

"You are a devil, Noah Morgan," she said with a smile.

"And you, my lady," he laughed, "are no angel."

"I believe, sometimes, that you do not understand how I truly feel."

"Our passion for each other is obvious to me."

"Passion? Is that all"

"Anne, we tread dangerous ground. You know as well as I do that this is all that we will have. You have everything you want. A prestigious name, position at court, a powerful husband, and wealth beyond your dreams. Do you think I would jeopardize that for you?"

She knew he was right, and yet he was wrong. She did not want to lose her grip on what she possessed, yet she wanted more from him . . . more, but what more even she didn't know. He was the most elusive man she'd ever known. There was a part of him she

had not seen, and a part that was always withheld from her even when they were in the grip of the deepest, hottest passion. That was the part she wanted revealed to her, and that was the part he seemed to guard with an iron will she could not get beyond.

The game they played had unspoken rules, and if she did not desire him so completely, she would have cut him from her life.

"Come dance with me."

"In a while. We can't be careless. Rodger is no fool."

"Yes," she said softly, "you just don't know what kind of a fool he is." She turned from him and walked toward the French doors. But just as she reached them she heard his voice again.

"Anne."

She did not turn around but remained still, hardly breathing in her hope that he would ask her to stay, to go into the dark garden with him, to . . .

"Yes, Noah?"

"What is her name?"

"Damn you!" Her voice was frigid.

"Her name."

"Charity Gilbert."

The name meant nothing to him.

"Where did you meet her?"

"I hadn't before tonight."

"Then you know nothing about her?"

"Only that she has let Stafford Hall and arrived with a retinue of servants. That she has a mysterious source of wealth . . . and that no one knows where she came from." She finally turned to face him. "And that interests you, doesn't it? Noah, don't betray me."

The last four words were spoken so softly he barely heard them . . . but he felt them and understood the warning.

"To ask her identity is not betrayal."

"If I did not know you so well, I might take your word for that. Be cautious." She turned and walked back into the ballroom.

Noah gazed at the empty doorway for several moments, then slowly turned his back to it. Anne was gone from his thoughts, but he was irritated that he could not similarly banish the mysterious Charity Gilbert.

He was more surprised at himself than at anything else. He had long ago divorced himself from a conscience he couldn't afford. He had also given up all hope of meeting a woman who could face him with honesty, who did not have her own devious goals in mind.

Still, the memory of her unwilling kiss lingered, lingered with such persistence that he made a decision.

"Charity Gilbert." He smiled a smile that might have frightened Charity had she seen it. "Who are you, and why are you here? Aphrodite . . . perhaps I have yet to remove your real mask."

Chapter Six

Charity woke early to the sound of birds and the rustle of the breeze through her window. Over breakfast she told Beth everything that had transpired at the party.

Beth was excited and listened as Charity described the meeting with Noah Morganall except the kiss they had shared and the still troubling effect it had had on her.

Charity hadn't slept well, fighting dreams that left her confused when she had wakened. All day long she expected to see Noah Morgan at her door at any moment, but the day passed with no sign of him. Charity spent the day alternating between hoping and fearing that he would find her.

By the time she went to bed that night she was filled with conflicting emotions. She knew that Gregory

couldn't come to her but she felt abandoned and totally inadequate to handle the problem.

Now she lay in her bed and, for a stolen moment, allowed her memory to slip back to the ball and Noah.

She licked her dry lips, feeling the pressure of his mouth lingering on them. A pressure that had, in all honesty, not been unwelcome. She had never before felt the way she'd felt when he held her prisoner those few seconds.

She was just beginning to realize how difficult this situation promised to be. How confident she had been! How simple she had thought it would be to find out where Noah had hidden what Gregory wanted, and take it. But when she had looked up into the deep blue ocean of Noah's eyes, it was the first time she truly considered the depth of the water she was in and wondered if swimming in it was going to be quite so easy.

Charity rose, bathed, and dressed in a golden brown riding habit. She hated to think of Charles Brentwood, but today she was grateful that he had had one of his grooms teach her to ride. She walked to the stables, where she found Minnow and Tiny already awake. The three of them had never shared a word the whole time she had been in the Round. She began to wonder if they had ever been able to trust anyone but Amiee.

"Minnow, will you saddle that mare in the first stall?"

He nodded and moved to comply with her wishes.

From the far end of the stable, Tiny, comfortable on a pile of hay, watched her.

Why she should care if these two trusted her or not was beyond her, but she did.

She waited until the horse was saddled and led to her side. Then she prepared to mount. But Minnow reached out a ham-like hand to grip her arm. His hold was surprisingly gentle, but she knew he could snap her arm in two if he chose. She looked up at him and waited to see what his reasons were.

"You ride far?" His voice rumbled like a bass drum.

"No, not really. I'll stay on Stafford property. I just need some exercise."

"Good. If you don't come back by the midday meal, I will come for you."

"You needn't worry about me, Minnow, I'll be just fine."

"Amiee says you are to be protected," he repeated as if she were too young and foolish to understand. "I will come."

Charity realized that it was going to do her absolutely no good to argue, so she nodded and smiled. Minnow helped her mount without another word.

When she was gone, Tiny rose and walked to Minnow's side.

"She is stubborn, that one," he said, smiling.

"Yes, but she is a child. Amiee says she walks with a lot of danger. She does not want anything to happen to her."

As if this were the final word, Tiny nodded. "Then we will have to see that this woman-child does not

fall down and get hurt.'' His soft laugh was soon matched by Minnow's.

Charity rode slowly. She was not by any means an expert horsewoman and she was still awed by the magnitude of the estate. Gregory had hinted that one day they might buy it and live there together.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to envision how it would be if she and Gregory lived here. But she blinked them open abruptly when a pair of blue eyes came between her and the dream she sought.

As if to force it from her mind, she kicked her mare into a run. She raced along until she could feel her mount growing weary. She reined the mare to a halt, dismounted, and led her to a small stand of trees where she could sit in the shade while the mare rested and grazed.

She was among the trees before she realized that another horse grazed there. She looked around and froze. Seated on a fallen log, Noah smiled and watched her. There was no way Charity was going to let him intimidate her into mounting and riding away.

"Sir, you are trespassing on my property," she said, trying for arrogance.

"I've been waiting for you to pass this way."

"Impossible. You had no way of knowing I was going to ride this morning. And why would you wait for me?"

"Why, Aphrodite," he chided with a grin, "I believe we have some unfinished business."

"Aphrodite?" Her smile matched his. "Have you fallen from your horse and addled your brain? I don't think you are in the right century. If I am not mistaken, Aphrodite was a myth . . . a creature of legend."

"Not the Aphrodite I've met. She is warm flesh and blood. No myth could be so real."

He rose and walked closer, and again she was bombarded by the same sense of leashed power she had felt the night of the ball. Over a head taller than she, he was so broad-shouldered as to be intimidating. She refused to step back, no matter how overpowering he was.

His fawn-colored breeches fit his muscled legs perfectly, and his high boots and deep green jacket completed the picture of a magnificently handsome male.

"You never answered my question."

"What question was that?" he asked softly. He seemed to be concentrating on her mouth, and Charity was filled with the disturbing thought that he meant to kiss her.

"How did you know I would ride this way?"

"I was on the ridge when I saw you leave, and the direction you were going. I knew you had to pass this way."

"The ridge is still my property. Why do you trespass?" Lord, how she wanted to run! His gaze was now holding hers relentlessly. He reached out and gently took a wayward strand of her hair between his fingers.

"Ah, Aphrodite," he said, "after the other night I would trespass on Mount Olympus to see you again."

"Very romantically said, sir," she laughed. "But your continued reference to Aphrodite baffles me. Where did you meet this . . . goddess of yours?"

"You're going to deny sharing a moment with me? I am crushed. I was certain you would remember. You left too soon. I never had the opportunity to unmask you."

"Then how can you claim it was me?" She was beginning to enjoy the exchange.

"Because"his voice lowered and warmed until it washed over her like melted honey"the gold of your hair, the green of your eyes . . . and the softness of your lips all reveal the truth. Shall we test my theory . . . just to prove the truth?" He had released her hair and his fingers traced the slender column of her throat to touch lightly the pulse at the base of her neck. Through the tips of his fingers he could feel her heart racing. It surprised him. Her reaction did not seem to be consistent with that of an accomplished courtesan. Instead she suddenly seemed young . . . and very vulnerable.

The game had gone on too long for Charity's comfort. As he bent close, his lips a breath away from hers, she stepped back.

"You win, my lord. I admit to being the Aphrodite of the ball. But the game is finished and the masks are gone. I do not even know your name."

The masks are gone.
He heard her words, but wondered if there was still another mask in place.

"My name is Noah Morgan, and yours is Charity Gilbert."

She was a bit shaken by his statement. As Gregory had said, it had not taken him long to find her.

"Noah Morgan." She smiled wickedly. "I have heard your name before. Perhaps we have discovered each other's identities from the same source."

"Perhaps," he agreed amiably. He had no intention of answering her unspoken question. Gossip, he imagined, had already told her too much. "I have an estate a few miles from here. Now that we are such good companions, perhaps you would be a guest at a dinner I am having at Whitebriar next week."

"I am alone here. I cannot come unchaperoned to your home. It would be scandalous."

"Yet you came to Lord Ferrier's ball . . . alone."

"But"she looked innocent"behind a mask one is safe from gossip. I left before the masks were removed."

"I know. I tried to find you." He said these revealing words so honestly that Charity knew they were the truth.

"Why?" she asked without thinking.

"Because I wanted to see you again. You must not look in your mirror often if you have to ask why. You are a lovely woman, Charity Gilbert, and I would like to know you better. Come to dinner next week. You will not be alone. I've invited a great many people, and a number of my family will be there. If you would not be displeased, I could come for you myself."

"Then I see no cause for me not to attend. Besides, we are practically neighbors."

"Yes, and I'm a firm believer in being neighborly." Noah touched her arm and motioned to the fallen log

where she had first seen him. "Sit with me for a while."

Charity agreed. This was how she and Gregory had planned it. They would get acquainted casually, talking, becoming friends.

When she and Noah reached the log, it was higher than she had thought. Without a word he placed his large, strong hands about her waist and lifted her easily.

Now it was she who looked down on him. He stood close enough that his shoulder brushed her legs. She folded her hands in her lap quickly, shocked by the urge to rest one on his shoulder.