Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (30 page)

“You are not rambling.” Millicent
pushed her head off his shoulder and looked into her husband’s face. “I have
been hesitant about discussing my past because those years were nothing but a
succession of difficult memories and tragic events. I am almost thirty years
old with nothing to be proud of in my life. When I look back, all I see is
nothing but total failure.”

“You are wrong about that,” he
said, holding her gaze. “Each step that we take leads us down the road that we
were intended to travel. And even the little I know of you is filled with great
things. All anyone has to do today is look at Melbury Hall. What you have
succeeded in doing here is reflected in everyone who surrounds you, Millicent.
You are a wonder—a prize.”

His fingers delved into her hair,
and Lyon kissed her with enough passion to make her believe.

“Do you know how lucky I consider
myself to be your husband?”

Millicent couldn’t hold back her
tears. She was overwhelmed with everything about this man. He kissed the tears
off her face, and his mouth settled on hers again.

“You have a way of making me feel
special,” she whispered when they broke off the kiss. “Desired.”

“And you have a way of making me
feel whole.” Lyon’s fingers moved to the conservative neckline of her dress and
started tugging at the small buttons. “From our first moment together you have
managed to cast aside all my notions of what I could no longer do.”

“Are you referring to taking my
head off with that sharp tongue of yours?” she teased, brushing her lips
against his bearded cheeks, his lips.

“Well, that too.” He smiled. “But do you remember the first day that I arrived at Melbury Hall?”

“You had fallen off the seat in the
carriage where Gibbs had propped you up.”

“And you tried to help me back onto
the seat.”

She looked down as his fingers
undid one button and moved to the next.

“I learned you had a ferocious temper
that day.”

“If Gibbs hadn’t shown up when he
did, you might have learned other things about me, too.”

“What other things?”

His blue eyes were mischievous. He
took her hand and brought it to his lap where the evidence of his arousal was
pronounced.

“That day, wrestling with me in
that confined space as you were, pressing and fitting all your beautiful curves
against me, you made me realize that perhaps my manhood was not too far beyond
redemption after all.”

Millicent tentatively stroked his
shape through the breeches. She looked down as Lyon’s hand parted the neckline
of her dress, revealing the lace of the low cut chemise she was wearing
beneath.

“I always considered myself plain,
tedious, lacking passion,” she said. “I am struggling with this new me who
wants to come out.”

“Do not fight it.” He placed soft
kisses on her face. His hand gently touched her breast. “Do not fight the
passion that I know is within you.”

“You make me think of doing wicked
things.” 

His breath was more a sigh of delight.
“By any chance, do your thoughts run along the lines of latching the door and
taking off your clothes and coming back to me?”

Millicent looked up shyly. “Taking
off my clothes?”

“Every stitch. I want to see your
beautiful body. I want to touch and taste every bit of you before burying
myself deep inside.”

“You want to make love here in this
room?” she whispered, shocked.

“Is that wicked enough?” he asked.

Touching him through his clothing
had been the extent of Millicent’s thoughts, but she held back her comment when
Lyon’s mouth captured hers in another kiss. Blatantly carnal, he thrust deep,
sampling and tasting and playing out what another part of his body was eager to
do.

Millicent was quivering with need
when he broke the kiss. She rose and went to latch the door, but as soon as she
turned to him, all her insecurities rushed back in. It was still daylight.
Someone could pass by the window. Any minute there could be a knock at the
door.  And most important, it had been so much safer to make love to him in the
half-darkness of the bedchamber where her flaws were not so obvious. Her back
pressed hard against the door.

“Will you be my hands?”

Uncontrollably drawn to the magic
of his blue eyes, she swallowed her protests and nodded slowly.

“Undo the rest of the buttons on
your dress for me.”

She looked down at the partially
parted neckline. Her fingers shook when she started unfastening the rest. The
weight of Lyon’s gaze was on her. The last button ended at the waistline of the
dress.

“Now part the dress in the front.”

The dark tips of her nipples showed
through the thin chemise when she parted the front of her dress. Her skin
tingled and burned, and she wasn’t even being touched. Not yet.

“Now push it down your arms and
step out of the dress and petticoats.”

Millicent started doing what he’d
asked of her. “I do not think I can go beyond this. I am too embarrassed to
reveal—”

“Come here, love.”

The softly whispered endearment
made her heart soar. She stepped out of the dress and made her way to him slowly.

“You are so beautiful.” His voice
was husky. Lyon leaned forward, his hand molding the thin fabric to her
sensitive skin at her waist, his mouth taking hers in another kiss.

Millicent’s fingers delved into Lyon’s hair as his fingers gently caressed the curves of her belly, and she shivered when
his thumb crossed her ribs and came to rest at the base of her breast. 

“You have the most glorious hair.
Take the pins out of it.”

She reached up with both hands,
taking each pin out slowly. All the while she felt his gentle fingers caressing
the curves of her breasts. Her skin heated to his touch, and his gaze scorched
her. 

Her hair came down like a heavy
blanket around her shoulders. She leaned her head back when Lyon’s fingers
combed through the waves.

“I have been daydreaming about this
all morning,” he said.

Millicent held her breath when Lyon pushed the chemise off one shoulder, revealing only the top of one breast. The sound
of a couple of servants passing outside the door broke through the haze that
was enveloping her, and Millicent darted a nervous glance in that direction.

“Maybe we should wait until—”

“There will be no waiting.” Lyon reached up and pulled the chemise off her other shoulder and drew her back onto his
lap.

“But Mrs. Page could be looking for
me. Or Gibbs might come to check on you. What happens if they come to the
door?”

He placed a kiss on her exposed
shoulders, tasting her soft flesh. “I’ll tell them I am making love to my wife,
and that they can all go to the devil.”

“Now I do feel absolutely wicked,”
she whispered.  She undid a couple of the buttons on his shirt and slipped her
hand inside, caressing the sinewy contours of his chest. “I think everyone
already knows what we did last night.”

“And everyone probably knows what
we are doing here this afternoon. You might as well stop worrying about what
others will think, for there is a great deal that I plan to do to you in the
gardens and in the carriage and in every other room of this house.” He traced
the edge of her chemise where the tops of her breasts rose and fell with each
breath she took. “Now let me see you.”

Millicent was too aroused to
remember any of her earlier inhibitions. She stood up again and found herself
standing between Lyon’s legs. His mouth tasted her parted lips. His tongue
thrust deeply into her warmth. As he pulled back, Lyon’s hand cradled
Millicent’s face, then moved down one slender shoulder. He gently pushed the
chemise down her body, until it pooled at her feet.  

“You are stunning.” 

Tears once again sprang to her eyes
as Millicent basked in the way Lyon’s gaze paid homage to her body. She, too,
felt whole and beautiful, and it was because of him.

He touched her deeply, stroking her
moist folds until she cried his name out breathlessly, and then he kissed her
again.

“Now love me, Millicent,” he
whispered against her ear as she continued to float on the waves of her
release.

She undid the front of his breeches
and straddled him, drawing him deep inside her body.

It was then—at that very moment as
they rose together into those ethereal realms—that she knew she loved him in
more ways than just this.

When the carriage rolled to a stop
by the Fleet Bridge, the stench of the canal rose around them, infusing the air
with the foul smell of sewage and other things that Harry did not even want to
consider. London was not Jamaica; that was for sure. The clerk looked through
the darkness at his employer, sitting across from him, his cane by his knee and
a loaded pistol in his hand. Whether they were in London or Port Royal, Harry thought, Mr. Hyde was the same. And Lord save the fool who crossed him.

“Do you understand me?” Hyde was
saying, growing angrier by the minute. “You’re to blame for this. If you hadn’t
mucked up the auction, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll make good tonight.
Ye’ll see.”

“That I shall. And if you mess this, you blasted cur, the dogs will find your carcass in this fetid ditch. Do
you hear me?”

“Aye, Mr. Hyde.” Harry grew queasy at the thought of the canal and the unnamable things floating on the dead
water. “I’ll not fail ye, sir.”

“Remember what I told you. Go up
this alley a ways until you see the sign on the sheep’s head. Around the corner
from it you’ll find the tavern kept by a man called the Turk. That’s the place
you’ll find the men we want.”

“Aye, sir. Half a dozen men.”

“At least a half dozen. You are to
pay them a guinea each, with the promise of more if they’ll sign on with us. But they’ll get nothing if they say a word to anyone. Tell them your master requires tight lips,
or he’ll see they swing for it. They’re to just wait until we say ‘tis time. We
shall come for them within a fortnight, and they must be ready to travel. Do
you understand me?”

“Do I tell them they keep the money
even if ye didn’t need them at all?”

“You’re a blasted fool, Harry. You think these blackguards would give it back? You’ll be lucky to get out of there
without having your throat cut. You tell them they keep what you give them
tonight. But there will be a much bigger prize if we need to take them with us
to get the slave.”

Harry looked up the dark alley. He
was not particularly happy about going alone into the rat’s nest of ramshackle
buildings huddled along the edge of the canal.  

“Beg pardon for asking, sir, but
Mr. Platt seems confident that he can get the woman by lining up witnesses to
say she’s a witch. Now, to my thinking, shouldn’t we be waiting to…to pay good
money to some low-life scoundrels ‘till we’re sure that the lawyer’s way don’t
work out?”

In an instant, the silver head of
Hyde’s cane was pressed up against Harry’s chest, pinning him against the
carriage seat.

“You listen to me. I am not paying
you to think. And I am certainly not leaving the outcome of this to fools like
you or Platt or that roaring braggart Cranch. He’s a blasted laborer and he
thinks he can conquer the world himself. No, I’ll not trust any one of you.
I’ll have plans, and alternate plans and I’ll keep my own counsel until I have
my fingers around that witch’s throat.”

Harry nodded meekly. It was true
about Ned Cranch. The stonemason might have a way with the skirts, but the man
was a bloody blower, to be sure.       

“Now get out there,” Hyde barked.
“Remember, the sign of the sheep’s head. And look to your back.”

****

“If I might be so bold as to ask,”
Will started hesitantly as he scraped the razor over Lyon’s throat. “Have ye
told her ladyship about this?”

Lyon studied the lanky valet.
“You’re frightened.”

“Ye do look a wee bit different,
m’lord, with yer hair cut and yer beard all shaved clean. I’m only thinkin’
Lady Aytoun deserves some warnin’ afore ye scare her to death wi’ yer new
face.”

“Scare her to death?” Lyon’s laughter rang through the room. “Damn you, Will, she has been after me to shave from
the moment she set eyes on me. If anything, the woman will be pleased.”

Pleased. Absolutely. And not only about his appearance, Lyon thought hopefully. He had a great deal more that he was
ready to tell her.

Testing his latest discovery, Lyon slowly pushed his feet along the floor away from the chair as far as they would reach.
He then pulled them back. Long Will, intent on not cutting him, was oblivious
to the movement.

The past four or five days had been
miraculous. Lyon couldn’t explain it, but somehow his body had made great
improvements in the slow journey of healing. Actually, the improvements were
quite small, but unlike the dozen times before, these changes appeared to be
permanent. The movement of his fingers in his right hand. The ability to flex
his knees and bend his ankles. He had not dared to put any weight on them yet,
but the prospect was exciting.

At times during these past few
days, especially when he and Millicent were making love, it had been almost
impossible to hold back this new discovery from his wife. But Lyon had decided to wait until he was certain, and until he could surprise her with the
magnitude of it.

There was so much that he owed
Millicent. And there was so much more that he intended to repay.

The valet wiped Lyon’s face with
the towel and stepped back. Beyond Will, he saw Ohenewaa enter the room. No
doors stopped the old woman from going where she wanted to go. Like an
apparition, she came and went at any time of the day, and Lyon was accustomed
to her ways. 

Of course, he owed a great deal of
credit for his healing to Ohenewaa, too. She continued to see to him and
prepare ointments for Millicent to administer. Unlike the other physicians who
had found their way to his bedside since the accident, this one had believed in
his recovery and given him hope. She was another one whom Lyon had yet to tell
about the progress he was making.