Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman (24 page)

"Yes," she said softly. She moved into his arms now, more than willing to allow this moment to become the sweetest memory of her life.

She felt the firm persuasiveness of his mouth as the

kiss grew deep, but this time there was no resistance. She melted against him as if she were willing to flow within his being, and Noah felt himself losing his grip on any reality but the warm and willing woman in his arms.

Beth sat trying to read a book in which she had no interest. Sofia sat before the fireplace, her embroidery frame before her. But her hands had not created a stitch in the past twenty minutes. Kathy paced the floor like a caged lioness, fighting the distinct urge to stomp to the library door, throw it open, and demand to know not only what was going on but whether they should be congratulating the happy couple or telling Noah what a fool he was.

Finally the door opened to reveal Noah and Charity. Kathy was the first to accost them. "Well?"

"Kat," Noah laughed, "I'm surprised your nose wasn't pressed to the door and your eye to the keyhole."

"Noah Morgan, if you don't tell me what's going on I shall throttle you."

"Well, to preserve life and limb, I guess we'd better tell you," Noah replied as he walked past her and went to his mother. "Charity has agreed to become my wife, Mother, and I would like the wedding to take place as quickly as is socially possible. I trust you can speed things along."

"I'll do my best, Noah." Sofia smiled. She extended a hand to Charity, who came to her side. "You are a most welcome addition to our family, Charity."

"Thank you." Charity was choked with emotion.

She had never belonged, and now, suddenly, she felt as if she had a family of her own.

Beth came to her to embrace her and there were tears in her eyes that only Charity would understand. Both had found new paths for their lives. Paths filled with promise. They had come a long way together.

They celebrated with a bottle of the best wine the Morgan cellar had to offer and a toast and well-wishes. Kathy had embraced her brother with enthusiasm and wickedly asked how soon Elizabeth could expect a playmate.

It was a deliciously wonderful feeling for Charity, who warmed her spirit at the fire of their affection.

Beth, Sofia, and even an unwilling Kathy went to bed earlier than usual for the sole purpose of leaving Noah and Charity alone for a while. It was an opportunity Noah took full advantage of.

He drew Charity down on his lap and laughed at the way he was tormenting himself. It was certainly a test of his control, for Charity was warm and responsive in his arms.

They spoke of plans and promises, and Charity could not remember being so happy. But Noah had a good idea that his control was not going to bear much more of this.

"I think it's best that you go up now."

"Oh, Noah. It's so comfortable here."

His chuckle was warm and delighted. "It is, but if you don't go to your room soon, I'll be carrying you up to mine. Kat would enjoy our discomfort in the morning, but I don't think Mother would be too pleased."

When Charity sat up, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes filled with laughter.

"Don't tempt me, Charity." Noah grinned. "I'm not very reliable at this moment." He rose, lifting her with him, then stood her on her feet. "Come on, I'll walk you to the stairs. I'm going to stay down here and have a brandy. It's safer."

With his arm about her waist, they walked to the bottom of the staircase. In his arms Charity savored his good night kiss. Then she started up the steps.

"Charity?"

She turned to look down at him. "You will remember everything I said to you tonight?"

"I will not forget one word, Noah. Especially when you said you loved me. One day I will prove to you just how much your love means to me and how grateful I am for your understanding."

"Good night, Charity. Sleep well."

"Good night."

He watched her until she disappeared. "Trust me, Charity," he said softly. "Trust me and let me erase the last threat to our happiness." He turned and walked back to the library, to have his brandy and to make his plans.

Chapter Twelve

Word of the impending marriage of Lord Noah Morgan spread across London like wildfire. Discussed in every home, it was the focus of everyone's attention, and it was the first bit of news that met Gregory when he arrived home.

At first he believed that Charity was just doing what he had planned and was amused at the thought of the embarrassment Noah would suffer when Charity found the letters and vanished.

Her complete disappearance was what Gregory had originally planned. But he found her interesting and exciting. Certain of his hold over her, he'd made a decision. He would not rid himself of her completely. No, when his plans became reality, when Charles Brandywine was dead and Douglas Van Buran filled his place, Gregory and Eleanor would

marry. Then he would put Charity in her proper place, as his mistress. She was beautiful and distracting, and he was certain she wouldn't want to go back to the ugly life she'd had.

The thought was exciting. In fact, if Charity had had wealth and a good name, he would have considered marrying her. But he was on his way up, his star was rising, and he could not afford a nobody for a wife, even if she was a beautiful and seductive one.

Even before he went home, he went to see Douglas Van Buran . . . and Eleanor. Of course, Eleanor did not know what he and her father had planned, nor that she was a pawn in this game. Douglas wanted Charles Brandywine's place so badly that he did not hesitate to offer Eleanor as a part of the bargain.

Gregory knew Douglas was a man who had the same driving ambition as himself, one who would not let anything or anyone stand in his way.

When Douglas joined him, there were questions in his eyes, and Gregory smiled and answered before they were asked.

"Don't distress yourself, Douglas. Charity is an excellent actress and she is leading Noah by the nose. As soon as she gets her hands on that packet your man so carelessly lost, she'll have it in my possession. Once Charles is out of the way, there is no question as to who will fill his shoes."

"Leading Noah Morgan by the nose?" Douglas said. "I've known Noah too long. I've never seen him led unless he chooses to be. Perhaps he has deciphered the letters and is doing a bit of leading on his own."

"No. If that were true he might seduce Charity, but

he would never offer the Morgan name in marriage. He's too damn proud of it.''

"Gregory, I want this thing over with. The evidence in those letters will lead to me eventually. And in the long run"his eyes grew cold"to you. We will both be tried for treason, and you know the consequences of that."

Gregory studied Douglas. He was a tall, very distinguished looking man. Slender and impeccably dressed. His hair was a mane of silver over a narrow face . . . an almost handsome face, if one did not look too deeply into the dark brown eyes and see the ruthless and cold man beneath.

Gregory didn't like him, had never liked him. Nor did he trust him. But for Gregory, Douglas was a useful tool.

"Don't worry, Douglas. I will get a message to Charity as soon as I go home. Perhaps at this moment she has already found the packet and is ready to come back to my arms."

"Just find that packet. The girl can go to the devil for all I care."

"Oh no," Gregory chuckled, "I have other plans. Don't worry, everything is well in hand. Let me be getting on now. I have to find a way to get a message to Charity. She's probably anxious about me."

"I expect to hear from you soon. It's only a matter of a few weeks until our plans will be put into motion. Don't waste time. I don't want this plan to fail; we may never get another opportunity."

"Have I ever failed?" Gregory's voice was amused.

"Don't let this be the first time," Douglas said qui-

etly. His tone drew a sharp look from Gregory, who was suddenly aware that Douglas Van Buran was not a man to be made a fool of, nor one to accept punishment with a closed mouth.

"I'll see you next at the Wythe reception. By then I should have the loose ends tied up." Gregory picked up his hat and gloves, and left Douglas watching him intently. When the door closed, Douglas's teeth clenched. Gregory Hamilton was fast becoming a loose end himself. Douglas meant to keep a close eye on him.

Gregory was thinking much the same thing about Douglas as he rode toward his home. When he entered the house he was met immediately by the butler, who took his hat and gloves.

"Welcome home, m'lord."

"Thank you, James. Is there anything important I should see to? If not, I'd like some food and wine."

"Nothing, m'lord, except Miss Gilbert came to see you. It's taken London by storm that the young lady is to be the bride of Lord Morgan."

"Yes. You said she stopped by. Did she leave a message?"

"She left a letter, sir. I shall get it for you."

A nagging worry tugged at Gregory, causing him to frown. How stupid of Charity to come here. Yet . . . had she found the packet? Perhaps she'd wanted to bring it to him. He waited impatiently for James to return and place the letter in his hand.

He let James close the door behind him before he ripped the envelope open, unfolded the letter, and

read. His half smile faded; his eyes began to blaze as cold, unmerciful rage filled him.

Slowly, as if he were crushing Charity herself, he crumpled the letter in his fist. His face reddened, and his teeth clenched. His knuckles grew white with the force of his grip.

"Charity . . . damn you! How dare you betray me! No . . . no, you'll not get away with this. You sweet, conniving bitch, I'll see you don't get away with this. You'll never be the wife of Noah Morgan! Never!"

He flung the letter into the fireplace and watched it burn. Slowly he calmed. Cunning began to take the place of rage. He was not defeated. There was still a way to get the packet. Charity was now the only one who knew where it was, and Charity would give it to him. One way or another, she would give it to him, and when she did, he would show her the price of her betrayal.

Gregory needed time to try to find a way out of his dilemma. He did not leave the house again that day, but sat in his study brooding and considering plan after plan.

Later that evening, while he nursed his fourth whiskey, there was a light rap on his study door. He had told the servants to leave him entirely alone, so he knew the only person it could be. His mother. The invincible and extraordinary person who had molded his life and given him all he possessed. The unique beauty who had found her niche in London society by marrying a man who overlooked the fact that Gregory was not his.

Of course, his mother had claimed herself a widow and the soul supporter of her young fatherless son. She had acquired for Gregory a father that any noble English boy would have wanted. Gregory had no idea who his real father was, nor did he care. He preferred the Hamilton wealth.

"Come in," Gregory growled.

When the door opened it revealed a woman of indeterminate age and startling beauty.

She possessed the type of eternal beauty that would turn heads no matter what her age. Her hair was the same midnight black as it had been when she was twenty, and her skin was still a flawless cream. Amber eyes gleamed with brilliant intelligence. There were times, Gregory would admit only to himself, that his emotions were caught between adoring admiration and a hatred just as intense. She was the only one to rule any part of his life. Her voice, always mellow and soft, tonight grated on his nerves.

"Gregory, I've heard nothing from you for several days. Has there been a change in our plans?"

"Our plans?"

"Don't be tedious, Gregory. I've heard of the intended wedding of Noah Morgan and that woman I thought you had trained so well. Has she betrayed you and gotten greedy for a fortune of her own?"

"Don't be a fool, Mother. You don't think I'm going to let her destroy my plans? Maybe what she's doing will work for me. I'm more than sure that Noah knows nothing of her past . . . and she doesn't want him to know. Let them plan; it will work to my advantage when the time is ripe."

"And when will that be?"

"When the deceitful little bitch is Noah's wife. She won't want him to know who she really is, and she won't want to disgrace the Morgan name. No, let her marry him. My time will come."

"And Lord Van Buran?"

"You needn't worry about him either. Noah has not been able to decipher the packet, or the whole plot would be ended by now. Charity has found a way to take it from him. She is the only one that knows where it is. After the wedding, she'll be more than happy to tell me where it is hidden."

"Very clever."

"More clever than she realized. I intend to reach my goal one way or the other."

"Very well. I did not make you the heir to the Hamilton fortune to let our ambitions end there. You can open many doors with such wealth. I've made sure there is no one to stand in your way."

"Mother, do you believe that child could still be alive?"

"She would have been of age by now. If she were alive, she would have tried for her inheritance. No, I don't think she's any threat to you. All the same, I've never ended the search, and if she makes an appearance, I'll know about it." Glenda sat gracefully down in a comfortable chair. "I only wish I knew where the portrait is. I would like it destroyed."

"It was the only portrait of her?"

"Yes."

"Why can you not trace the portrait?"

"It vanished. I don't know how, or by whose hand.

I only hope it has fallen to someone who has no idea of what they possess. I'm no longer going to allow that to bother me. You are the heir to the Hamilton fortune, and with it we will acquire more power and wealth. No one will be able to touch us. If she ever does turn up, she'll never be able to prove who she is, and with our power, we'll see that this time she meets the end she deserves."

Our power, our wealth, our, our, our!
The word pounded in Gregory's head. He was the one who had turned the Hamilton fortune into power. Eventually he would have to put his mother in her place, preferably a nice country estate far, far away from London.