Taken by You (23 page)

Luca sent him a startled look. “Not share a bed? You’re a lusty man, Morgan Scott”

He shrugged. “There are women aplenty.”

“And men aplenty,” Luca reasoned calmly.

Morgan whirled around, nearly choking on his rage. “If you take a lover I will kill him! And maybe you.”

Luca’s chin rose defiantly. “If you take another woman into your bed I will kill her! And maybe you.”

Morgan’s lips twitched in amusement. “I believe you would, my fiery Spanish nun. Indeed, I believe you would.”

His laughter lingered long after he was gone.

Chapter 12

M
organ’s restraint deserted him within a few short days. Just thinking about Luca sleeping in his bed filled him with fierce longing. The ship was his prison and his Hell. There was no escaping her magical allure. It beckoned him, tempted him, lured him, and he lacked the strength to resist her magnetism. He fought a magnificent battle, and lost.

Luca heard the cabin door open and sensed Morgan before she saw him. Bloody Hell, Luca, you’ve bewitched me!” He stormed into the room like a maddened bull, his nostrils flaring at the scent of a female. He removed his sword, and by the time he reached the bunk he was naked.

The mattress groaned beneath his weight, and his boots hit the deck as he flung them off. When he slid into bed beside her, the scalding heat of her body seared the length of him as he pulled her into his arms.

“I did no such thing,” Luca whispered, shivering in response to his purely male domination. Dios, Morgan had but to touch her and she burst into flame.

“I tried my damnedest to resist you, but this ship isn’t big enough to escape my desire for you. I have no will where you are concerned. You’re a sickness I have to purge from my body. Before we reach England I intend to have my fill of you.”

Luca smiled inwardly. If she didn’t love the arrogant pirate she would have found the strength to resist. But if Morgan had no will where she was concerned, she could almost pity him, for she felt the same. She opened her arms and welcomed him eagerly, hungrily. They were husband and wife; she would make him love her.

After their passionate encounter, Luca was allowed the freedom to roam the deck. The crew knew she was off-limits and, between Morgan and Mr. Crawford, she was rarely out of someone’s sight. The weather had grown colder now that they were in northern waters; it was December, and the blustery winds blew sleet and rain against the windows. The men were bundled up to the eyebrows, and there were days Luca had to remain in the cabin to keep warm. It was difficult to believe that a few days ago she had been in the tropics, enjoying sunshine and warm breezes.

The weather was dismal and rainy a few weeks later when they sailed past Plymouth and entered the English Channel. Luca stood in a sheltered spot on the deck, staring in dismay at the large contingent of ships gathered in Plymouth harbor. She was about to search for Morgan to question him on the activity, when he appeared at her side.

“What do you suppose all those ships are doing in the harbor?” Luca asked curiously.

Morgan debated telling her the truth and decided it could do no harm. “I suspect the queen is gathering a force to meet the armada your king is sending to strike against England.”

Luca looked at him guardedly. “If King Philip is sending an armada it is to rescue the Catholic Queen Mary.”

“’Tis too late, and well they know it. Queen Mary was executed at Fotheringhay in February of this year.”

Luca paled. “Executed? How barbaric. What manner of woman is your queen?”

“A cautious woman wise in the ways of the world,” Morgan replied.

What he didn’t say was that she was also vain and possessive. She wanted her courtiers around her at all times and demanded their full attention, love, and devotion. Few if any of the gallant men orbiting around her bright star brought their wives to court unless ordered to do so. She even demanded that her courtiers join her summer progress when she traveled from estate to estate, visiting her domain. And woe be to those who married without her consent. Elizabeth’s reaction to his own misalliance was bound to earn him a harsh reprimand, Morgan thought dimly.

“If Queen Mary is dead, I doubt King Philip is considering a move against England.”

Morgan sent her a quelling look. “You know little about politics, Luca. I’m anxious to reach London and find out what is transpiring. Being at sea for weeks and months at a time has its disadvantages.”

“I thought you said we were docking at Portsmouth.” During one of his more talkative moods Morgan had revealed that they would debark at Portsmouth and travel by coach to his home in West Sussex.

“We are. Mr. Crawford is to remain with the ship and sail it with the queen’s portion of our plunder to London. He had the foresight to load it aboard the
Avenger
before he left Andros. After I escort you to my country estate I must hasten to London and present myself to the queen. I admit I’m anxious to learn what is taking place between Spain and England and place my ship at England’s disposal.”

“You’re going to leave me in West Sussex?” Luca swallowed a lump of panic. “I… I don’t know anyone mere. What will I do?”

“You’ll do what other wives do in your situation. Stay home and see to the servants and estate. And raise our children, should there be any,” he added, thinking how miserably he’d failed at keeping himself from her bed. She could be carrying his child right now. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine a Spanish mother for his children.

With Luca in West Sussex and him in London, it would be a hell of a lot easier to Forget he had a wife, let alone a Spanish one. There were any number of hot-blooded court ladies who would jump at the chance to ease his loneliness.

Before Luca could form a suitable reply, Morgan was called away, leaving her to stew in silence. Did Morgan intend to leave her to languish in boredom on his country estate while he danced attendance upon his queen? And what about those months he’d spend at sea plundering Spanish ships for England’s glory? What would become of her in a hostile country with no friends to sustain her?

The ship docked with little fanfare. Before Morgan and Luca went ashore, Morgan sent Crawford out to hire a coach to carry them to Haslemere in West Sussex, which Luca learned wasn’t too great a distance from Portsmouth. When he reappeared at her side he was fashionably attired in trunk hose, knee-length satin breeches, and brocade doublet. He cut a handsome figure, she thought, admiring the curved length of his long legs. But she much preferred him in the trousers, flowing white shirt, and high boots he wore aboard the
Avenger.

Unfortunately her own attire left much to be desired. And there was nothing she could do to improve her shorn hair. Though it had grown somewhat, it was still indecently short, hugging her face and head in a riotous mass of ebony curls.

Shivering beneath the voluminous folds of one of Morgan’s capes, Luca huddled in the seat beside her husband as their hired coach rattled along the rutted road. Noting her discomfort Morgan pulled her into his arms, all too aware that once they reached his estate any intimacy between them must necessarily end. Luca was becoming too important for his well-being; he needed to put his forced marriage into perspective. Once he was at court among his own kind he expected Luca’s hold on him to diminish.

“What do you think of the English winter?” Morgan asked in an effort to turn his dangerous thoughts from the warm body nestling against the curve of his own.

“I do not like it” Luca said truthfully. She gazed through the window at the passing scenery. The grass was sere and brown and the trees had lost their lush foliage. A misty rain obscured her view of the land, and a bone-chilling dampness had settled over her like a dismal gray curtain. It was very depressing. She sighed wistfully. “Spain’s gentle climate is much more hospitable. And Andros is a virtual paradise compared to this.”

Morgan laughed. “I’m inclined to agree with you. Nevertheless, this is the country of my birth, and I must report to my queen periodically and see to my estates.”

“What will happen to me when you return to sea?” Luca asked, aware of how little he valued her as a wife.

Morgan scowled.
What indeed?
he asked himself. Bloody Hell, what a muddle. He hadn’t intended to marry until he was ready to give up the sea and settle down. Then he’d planned to make the rounds of those boring social affairs and find a bride among the young hopefuls offered on the marriage market. He’d hoped for a rich one, who would be content to be sequestered in the country, raising his children, while he attended to the queen and took a mistress in London to keep boredom at bay.

Unfortunately he had been married against his will to a spirited Spaniard whose fiery disposition and sultry beauty kept him in constant turmoil. The simple truth was that he wanted her, but her question unsettled him.

“When I return to sea you will remain at Scott Hall.”

Luca opened her mourn to protest, but Morgan stopped it with a kiss. He couldn’t help himself. Her lips, slightly wet and glistening, were tempting him. So disturbing and yet irresistible, like forbidden fruit. He pulled her onto his lap, clamping his mouth over hers in a heart-stopping kiss. His lips were anything but gentle as he nudged her mouth open with his tongue so he could savor her sweet essence. He loved the taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, so solid and warm and giving. It was almost as if she…

No, he wouldn’t think about mat. His life was complicated enough without wondering if Luca felt anything special for him. Lust, certainly, but other than that he dared not contemplate. Of course mere was no question of his own lustful craving for his fiery Spanish bride. His weakness for Luca was reason enough to distance himself from her before he was irrevocably lost. His vendetta against Spaniards made it impossible to care for her, didn’t it?

But with Luca squirming provocatively on his lap it was difficult to recall the bitter dregs of revenge. Her hands clung to his shoulders, pulling him close as his mouth plundered hers. Her whimpers of strangled delight drove him nearly wild.

He broke off the kiss and stared at her. Her eyes were so dark and filled with erotic promise that he tumbled headlong into their depths without a care for the consequences. “Witch,” he whispered hoarsely, truly convinced she had bewitched him. How else could she shatter his senses, if not by witchcraft?

“Not a witch, Morgan,” Luca replied on a breathless sigh, “just a woman who…” She bit her tongue. She had nothing to gain by telling him she loved him and everything to lose. She had to convince him she wasn’t his enemy before admitting to such a thing.

“A woman whose hot blood and tempestuous nature answers a need in me,” Morgan finished. “A woman whose own need matches mine.”

He kissed her again, his mouth hot and demanding as he slowly drew her skirts past her thighs, providing himself free access to his most fervent desire.

“You enjoy what I do to you, sweetheart” His hand found the soft nest between her legs, his fingers caressing the tender, slick flesh of her innermost self. His head dipped to her breast making a wet circle on the material of her bodice. “I enjoy it, too.”

Luca caught her breath and held it. His intimate caress was making her giddy. “Your arrogance is appalling.”

His fingers moved unerringly into the sweet warmth of her sheath, and he groaned as his rod hardened and nearly split the lacings of his codpiece. “Damn doming is fashioned by men without vision,” he muttered, shifting to accommodate his rather daunting erection. “’Tis nearly impossible to do justice to both of us in this uncomfortable contraption, wearing layers of constricting clothing.

Luca moaned in disappointment. Morgan heard and chuckled. “That doesn’t mean I can’t pleasure you.” He shoved his finger deeper and Luca jerked convulsively. Once her heart settled down she began thrusting against his stroking fingers, driving him even deeper inside her. When his thumb found the throbbing pearl of sensitivity, she erupted in violent climax. He stayed with her until the last tremor left her body. Then he pushed down her skirts and cuddled her close.

“Did you enjoy that, sweetheart?”

Luca blushed furiously. “You know I did. But what about you?” She groped for him, determined to do for him what he had just done for her.

Morgan gasped when her hand curled around his rod, still painfully erect still throbbing. His control dangled by a slim thread. It would take so little to join Luca in ecstasy. Gathering his scattered wits, he shoved her hand aside. He decided that this was as good a time as any to test his willpower and prove that he could resist Luca’s seductive allure. It would be the challenge of a lifetime. When he spoke, his voice was a strangled parody of frustration and thwarted desire.