The Danger of Desire (43 page)

The captain knelt down and she saw his mouth move, but she couldn’t hear anything. It was as if she were wrapped in a heavy, wet blanket and couldn’t move—every feeling muffled and suspended. She must be dying. Oh, sweet Lord, she didn’t want to leave him now. Not after all this time, after so many years of pain, hunger, and suffering, and trying to find her way home. She had found her home with him. She belonged with him.

But she was in his arms. He scooped her up and held her tight against his chest for a moment, and she could feel the desperate urgency and anger in the heat and tension radiating off his body in murderous waves. His hand was roaming over her, probing quickly for the fatal wound, and then his mouth came down hard on hers in a furious, possessive kiss.

She clung to his lips, to the heat and life in him. And then he pulled away. And set her on her feet.

Well. She was standing. On her own two feet. Apparently she was not dying after all. Meggs made another, more thorough inventory of her body, which revealed arms, legs, and all the salient bits in between, all present and accounted for and in their proper place.

Two feet away, across the cobbles, Falconer had not fared so well. His head was a tangled mess of blood and bone, and he was most certainly dead. One of the naval men crouching down pulled the loose end of his cloak over his body.

But there was still no sound. She could not hear. She had gone deaf.

“Hugh,” she screamed, but no sound came out, only vibration and the feeling of raw heat in her bruised throat. But he must have heard her, because he was there, staring into her face. “I can’t hear!”

He took her face in his hands and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. She covered his hands with her own and stared at his mouth, trying to make the sound come, trying to find something in the buzzing silence.

“I know,” he said, but she only knew that because his mouth moved and he nodded at her. And then he pulled her against his chest, and she felt the vibration of his voice through his body.

He said something else, but Meggs had not been able to grasp half of his words. The sounds were still muffled and bleeding together like spoken fog. Still, there were worse things than being deaf—there was being dead—so she had to be thankful. And she had to shout. “Thank you—for coming. I didn’t think you’d—”

Now Hugh was shouting, because she could hear some of what he said, and because the others turned to look at them and then turned just as quickly away.

“I’m sorry, but I had to take the chance.”

That she understood, because she saw his mouth make the sounds before he turned her head to examine her ringing ears. And she felt the surging tempo of his heart beating fast beneath his ribs and smelled the acrid, metallic fume of black powder on his hands and coat.

“Did
you
shoot him?” And there, for the first time, were the tinny, high notes of her voice scratching their way through the ringing silence.

“I had to,” he growled, the words churning through his chest. “He’s a damned French agent, and he had you, he had my wife, with a knife to your throat. I saw the blood—”

“What?” She could not have heard that correctly.

“Your hearing will come back, later, hopefully.” He kissed her ear. “I had to take the chance. I had to fire at close range, with the gun right next to your ear, to shoot him because I couldn’t take the chance of the ball firing astray and—”

“I’m not your wife.” She might have shouted. She wasn’t sure. But whatever she was doing, it made him react.

He grabbed her collar and hauled her up close, as if he could grind his desperate will into her. “I’ll give you precisely twenty minutes, and not a moment more, to rectify that oversight.”

“Twenty minutes? Don’t be ridiculous.” She
was
shouting now. At the top of her lungs. “I was just almost killed, and I’m covered in dirt and blood. I look awful. And I can’t hear a bloody thing. A girl doesn’t like to get married like that, see? So don’t you dare play the bully boy with me, Captain Hugh McAlden. I want my brother and my grandmother with me. And I want to wear a proper dress, and a proper bonnet, and carry proper flowers. We’re getting bloody married at home! In the spring.”

He smiled at her. He smiled in that slow, inevitable way that crinkled up the corners of his eyes and turned those pale blue chips of ice into nothing but miles of warm ocean. That smile that made him look young and silly and happy. “That is a yes, then, isn’t it? You did just say you were going to marry me?”

“I might have done. I can’t hear properly, and you need to work on your style of proposal.”

He made his face all solemn, and taking her hands firmly in his, he knelt down on the wet cobbles before her. She leaned toward him because with her ears still ringing like the inside of a church bell, she wasn’t sure she would be able to hear him properly. And she was not going to miss a single word if she could help it, thank you very much.

“Please, Meggs. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t. I can’t conceive of my life without you in it. Please, Meggs, make me happy. Please.”

“Thank you, yes. I will. I thought you’d never do it proper-like. Now, if you please, I’d like you to take me home.”

“God’s balls, lass, it’s miles back to Fenmore. There’s an inn, or we could make it out to Glass Cottage, but—”

“That will do. I don’t mean Fenmore. I mean with you. I don’t care where we go, as long as I’m with you. My home is with you.”

“Do you mean that? Truly?”

“Of course I do.” Her voice sounded even more affronted for its tinny timbre. “I’d never have said it otherwise.”

“Good.” He kissed her again on the forehead, even though she turned her lips up to his in the hope of something more substantial. “Because if you want to be with me, to go where I go, you can’t wait until spring. You’ll have to marry me right away and come away with me, for I’m to take command of
Dangerous
again, and I want you with me.”

“
Dangerous?
Oh, aye, that’d be the one they give you.”

“Oh, aye.” He gathered her up tighter in his arms. “And that’ll be the one I take
you
aboard. Fair warning to the French.”

She laughed, because she had to. Because she couldn’t possibly contain all the happiness that was flowing up inside her like champagne out from a bottle. “All right then.”

“Then I’ll take you, and Timmy, home to Fenmore, long enough only to get married and say your good-byes. And then you’ll come away with me.”

“And be happy forever?” She was teasing him, she supposed, because it was a ridiculous thing to ask. But even as she joked, she knew she meant it. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, she was completely and unreservedly happy. She wanted to hold on to this moment forever, when she was safe in his arms and sure of his love. And she knew she would do everything in her power to make him happy, as happy as he had made her.

But the captain was an honest man. His face became even more solemn as he looked down into her eyes and answered. “No. We won’t always be happy, Meggs, because life isn’t like that. You know it as well as I. But we will always be together. We’ll weather whatever storms come our way together. And I’ll try my damndest to make you happy. Always.”

And then he took her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and deep, the way she liked, to remind her he knew exactly what he was talking about.

EPILOGUE

A
t dawn, Meggs watched from the rail as the green island rose out of the sea like an ancient tortoise. The storms of the gray North Atlantic had given way to warm westerly winds as
Dangerous
sailed across the placid horse latitudes into the lee of the Caribbean. The soft morning breeze wrapped around her as sweetly as a shawl. Blissfully, soothingly warm.

There it was—Jamaica. Her faraway West Indies island. Just as she had imagined it. The profile of the island was low and dark against the lightening sky, and the foaming sea below the bowsprit was warming to a thousand different colors of azure and liquid emerald. There was nothing but sea, sand, and green, green trees. Miles and miles of tall swaying palm trees.

“What is it that has you so enchanted?”

Meggs had thought Hugh was still working quietly with the sailing master and the first lieutenant in his cabin, making their orders for the day and preparing for their arrival to join the West Indies Squadron in Jamaica. But her husband had not only come topside, but had also broken with protocol. He had left the quarterdeck to moor up close behind her and touch her just so—with his hand sliding casually across the small of her back to fetch up innocently along the line of her ribs. He was meant to be all proper ship’s captain, carefully solicitous in such a public setting, but his long index finger somehow managed to stroke the underside of her breast, reminding her of what had transpired when they had been alone in the quiet, exploratory dark of the captain’s cabin. Wicked, provoking man.

However, he did take care to lower his head and speak directly into her left ear. She had recovered most of the hearing in her right, but sometimes, especially at sea where the breeze snatched words away, it was hard for her to hear clearly. Still, a tin ear was a small enough price to pay for such unspeakable happiness. At the feeling she got when his low words whispered down inside her.

She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Palm trees. I used to dream about palm trees.”

“Did you? Then look to your heart’s content, but come away astern to do so. You can see your palm trees just as well from the quarterdeck.”

“Oh, no thank you. I’d rather stay here, where I don’t have to peer around your masts and spars.” She turned back to look out over the gleaming water. “It’s so very beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is. And the island as well.”

She could hear the warmth in his voice. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am. But you still must come away. You’re interfering with the running of my ship here.”

“Am I?” She peered at the deck around her, full of little knots of men, seeming to her eye to be going about their naval business just as they always did. “However can I be interfering?”

At her back, Meggs felt his heavy, mock sigh rumble through his chest. “Couldn’t you simply allow me to know slightly more than you about the business of my own ship? As you once acknowledged, I am a professional navvy, all trained up for it.”

She couldn’t resist him when he was self-deprecating and charming, and giving her that teasing, sleepy-eyed, silly smile. “Hmm. But I’ve learned all this navy business quickly, haven’t I, Captain?”

“Oh, aye. I have no doubt you’ll be able to pass the exam for lieutenant in no time at the rate you’ve been going on. But you should remember the first rule of the navy is that you must obey your captain, and come away. The problem, my clever girl, is that with you here at the bowsprit rail, the men can’t move forward of the forecastle to use the heads, as they would rather cast themselves overboard than abuse your delicate sensibilities.”

“You mean they can’t—”

“Get to the business end of their breeches,” he finished for her. “Yes.”

“Good Lord and all the weeping saints.” She turned immediately away from the bow, tugging Hugh’s arm in her haste. “Sorry. They’re new to me, the delicate sensibilities.”

Her husband was making a meal of his laughter, chewing up his smile something fierce to keep his captainly mask in place as he walked her along the length of the deck. “It’s quite all right, lass.” He leaned close so only she could hear his words. “To tell you the truth, Meggs, I infinitely prefer you without.”

“Without delicate sensibilities?”

“Without anything, my Lady Dangerous. Anything at all.”

Meggs felt a blush sweep heat across her cheeks despite the cooling breezes. “Lady Dangerous? Is that my new
nom de guerre
? It sounds terribly dashing and romantic.”

“Nothing romantic about it. You’re more dangerous than a lit fuse.”

Meggs smiled up at him and tilted her head, just so he would be defenseless to her brand of rather cheeky charm. “And will you, Captain McAlden, be the one lighting it?”

In answer he smiled. That lovely, silly, happy smile that crinkled up the corners of his eyes and turned them the color of the warm clear sea. “With a very slow match.” He clasped her hand in his and steered her toward the companionway stair. “Handsomely now, my Lady Dangerous. As if we’ve all the time in the world.”

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It starts with THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE ...

“
I
couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” He wanted ” to steer their chat to his purpose, but the back of her neck was white and long. He’d never noticed that long slide of skin before, so pale against the vivid color of her locks. He’d gone away before she’d been old enough to put up her hair. And nowadays the fashion seemed to be for masses of loose ringlets covering the neck. Trust Lizzie to still sail against the tide.

“Yes, you could.” Her breezy voice broke into his thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Help it. You
could
have helped it, as any polite gentleman
should
, but you obviously chose not to.” She didn’t even bother to look back at him as she spoke and walked on, but he heard the teasing in her voice. Such intriguing confidence. He could use it to his purpose. She had always been up for a lark.

He caught her elbow and steered her into an unused parlor. She let him guide her easily, without resisting the intimacy or the presumption of the brief contact of his hand against the soft, vulnerable skin of her inner arm, but once through the door she just seemed to dissolve out of his grasp. His empty fingers prickled from the sudden loss. He let her move away and closed the door.

No lamp or candle branch illuminated the room, only the moonlight streaming through the tall casement windows. Lizzie looked like a pale ghost, weightless and hovering in the strange light. He took a step nearer. He needed her to be real, not an illusion. Over the years she’d become a distant but recurring dream, a combination of memory and boyish lust, haunting his sleep.