Irish Linen (4 page)

“Ye’re finally awake,” Mrs. Finn said, startling Meghan. The woman sat on the bunk built into the bulkhead on the opposite side of the cabin.

Meghan climbed out of bed and started to dress. “Did ye think I was to sleep the day away?” She frowned. “Where are Bridget and Mary Beth?”

“I finally convinced Bridget to go above. Mary Beth is with her.”

Fear squeezed Meghan’s chest as she sat on her bunk. “Are they alone?”

“They’re safe enough. Me late husband’s brother is with ‘em.” The woman stared at Meghan with concern. “What’s wrong, Meg? What happened to ye last night?”

Meghan looked away. “Nothing.” She stroked the fabric of her new green cloak, recalling the tenderness of the man who’d given it to her. “I met up with me intended is all.”

“Meggie girl, how can that be? I thought you were going to your man in America?”

Blast Mrs. Finn for remembering, Meghan thought. “Aye, it was said so,” she admitted. “We didn’t want anyone to know about us. We wanted to keep our betrothal a secret until we met with his family. But when Da passed away …”

“Will we be meeting him?” Mrs. Finn’s gaze was speculative.

“Oh, aye.” Meghan was nervous about the encounter. What if the others guessed that Lucas and she were only pretending to be engaged?

“What’s his name?”

“Lucas. Lucas Ridgely.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Finn appeared confused. “Why did I think your man was an O’Connor?”

Meghan thought quickly. “Me da’s friend is an O’Connor. Perhaps ye heard me talk of him.”

The woman’s brow cleared. “Ah, that must be where I heard the name then. Odd, I would’ve sworn … Never ye mind. An old woman’s recollections are not as clear as they once were.”

Meghan smiled as she tried to control her frantic heart. “Da used to say the same of old men.” She combed her hair back with her fingers. “But ye aren’t old, Mrs. Finn.”

Doreen Finn chuckled. “I’ve the desires of a girl, Meg, but I’ve lost the energy.”

A knock on the cabin door interrupted their conversation; Meghan held her breath as Mrs. Finn went to answer it.

“Good morning. I’m looking for Meghan McBride.”

Mrs. Finn blocked Meghan’s view, but she recognized Lucas’s deep voice instantly.

“She is here,” Mrs. Finn said in a crisp voice. “Might I inquire as to who
you
are?”

“Lucas Ridgely.”

“And,” the woman exclaimed, “her fiancé!”

Mrs. Finn turned to flash Meghan a grin. “It be him, Meggie girl,” she said in a hushed voice that clearly carried to the man. “Lucas Ridgely, your betrothed.”

Meghan nodded, unsure how to respond.

“May I come in?” He sounded amused.

“Aye, of course, lad,” Mrs. Finn said, making
Meghan gasp. “Come in. Meghan was just telling me about ye.”

“She was?” Lucas stepped into the cabin, filling the chamber with his presence. His gaze caressed her, making her tremble. She felt naked in her homespun gown, although she was adequately covered from neck to toe. “Meghan.”

“Lucas,” she greeted nervously. How could she have forgotten how tall and handsome he was?

He approached and lifted her hands, clasping them with warmth. Her blood heated, and she felt a catch in her throat when he released her fingers and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Easy, love,” he whispered. “We’ve an act to play. Remember?” And then he was pulling her into his embrace.

Conscious of Mrs. Finn, Meghan forced herself to relax. She leaned against Lucas and was immediately surrounded by his warm, strong arms. He cupped her head, pressing it gently against his chest, and she closed her eyes. It was good to be held by him. She heard the thundering beat of his heart, and felt safe and cherished.

“How are you, Irish?” he murmured. His voice rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating beneath her ear.

She pulled back to gaze up at him and was starded by his tender expression. She drew a sharp breath. “I’m fine,” she whispered. He lifted her hair and stroked her nape. Meghan quivered.

“Good girl.” His dark eyes glowed, making her pulse quicken.

Frightened by his effect on her, Meghan reeled, suddenly unsure of their dangerous game of pretend.

She pulled from his hold and spun away. “You’re here early.” She sensed Mrs. Finn watching them curiously. Meghan swung back with a bright smile.

“It’s after eleven,” Lucas said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“After eleven!” she exclaimed.

Mrs. Finn chuckled. “I told ye ye’d nearly slept away the day.”

“Aye, but—”

Lucas grinned. “Dreaming of me?”

Meghan grew flustered. Damn, she thought. The man was enjoying this!

“Ye’re embarrassing the child, Mr. Ridgely.”

“Lucas,” he invited the older woman with a smooth smile.

Mrs. Finn was clearly charmed. “Lucas.” She beamed as she met Meghan’s glance. “I like him, Meg.” She paused, and her gaze narrowed assessingly. “Even if he’s not your betrothed.”

Meghan gasped. “Not my—”

Lucas didn’t deny it as he regarded the older woman with admiration. “A brilliant guess?”

Mrs. Finn nodded, looking pleased. “ ‘Tis not my place to tell your secrets. I’m sure ye’ve a good enough reason for this role ye’re playing.”

He nodded. “Meghan was assaulted by a crewman last night,” he said, his expression grave.

“I knew something happened. Are ye all right, child?” Mrs. Finn studied Meghan and then speared Lucas with her gaze. “Ye saved her, I take it.”

He nodded.

“Then it’s our thanks ye have, Lucas Ridgely,” Mrs. Finn said. “Ye’ve decided on the betrothal to keep her safe?”

“As my intended, no man would dare come near her,” he said, his tone dark and dangerous.

“And how do we know she’s safe from ye?” the older woman asked.

“Mrs. Finn!” Meghan cried.

But Lucas didn’t take offense. “I’m not in the habit of forcing females,” he said. He grinned roguishly. “I’ve never had to.”

Her lips curving upward with a satisfied smile, Mrs. Finn nodded. But Meghan felt uneasy.

Lucas’s gaze fastened on Meghan. “Shall we stroll the upper deck?” he asked. “You’re welcome to join us, Mrs. Finn,” he said without taking his eyes from Meghan.

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be leaving ye two alone. Bridget and Mary Beth will coming back shortly.”

“Meghan?” Lucas held out his arm for her.

“I don’t know.” She felt heat warm her cheeks.

“Come on,” he urged softly. “Get your cloak; it’s cold out.” His gaze narrowed on her a moment, before he said, “I’ll wait outside the cabin for you.” With a nod at Mrs. Finn, he left.

The room was quiet after Lucas’s exit. Meghan felt the intensity of Mrs. Finn’s stare as she picked up the cloak and slipped it on over her worn gown. She wondered what the woman was thinking.

“He gave you the cloak,” Doreen Finn said.

Meghan nodded as she adjusted the hood. The garment was heavy and warm, and smelled slightly of Lucas.

“The man is generous.”

The younger woman inwardly squirmed. “Aye.”

“And attractive,” Mrs. Finn said.

Meghan’s breath quickened.

“And dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Meghan asked. She felt a sudden chill. “How?”

“Ye be an engaged woman. He is a good-looking man.” Mrs. Finn’s glance was bright with concern. “Be careful of yer heart, Meggie.”

Meghan made a disparaging sound. “Me heart is safe enough.”

The older woman grunted with derision. “Then ye’ve a heart of stone, Meghan McBride, for even this old woman felt a tingle when she gazed upon your Lucas Ridgely.”

New Castle County, Delaware

“But Mr. O’Connor,” the woman pleaded, “I can’t pay on our account. You know my husband doesn’t get his wages until next Friday!”

Rafferty O’Connor stood behind the counter of the company store, unmoved by the woman’s hard luck. “Mrs. Kelt, I only be looking out for Mr. Somerton’s best interests.”

“But I need supplies,” she said. “My children must eat.” Her words were breathy, and he enjoyed the sound of them, almost as much as he was aroused by her pretty face and curvaceous form. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

Rafferty smiled, feeling pleased. The woman was desperate, just how he liked it. “Ye’re willing to do anything?” He knew his voice sounded more husky than usual, his Irish accent thicker.

She nodded.

“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that will satisfy the both of us.” His gaze swept down to where her breasts swelled beneath the bodice of her muslin gown. Others had accepted the terms of his offer. Forty-nine, he might be, but women, he knew, considered him to be an attractive man with his sandy hair and green eyes. He recalled the wife of his employer, Alicia Somerton. She certainly had liked him. She’d found his solid and muscular form particularly pleasurable
during the second week of his employment. During the third week, he’d been taken from the factory and made manager of the company store.

But apparently Mrs. Kelt wasn’t as taken by his physical attributes. When he met her glance, Rafferty saw her astonishment and then her resigned acceptance of his terms.

It was nearly time to close up shop. Mrs. Kelt had come late to make her plea when there would be little chance of eavesdroppers. The woman’s husband wouldn’t be home for at least an hour after the store closed. Mrs. Kelt’s timing and desperation suited Rafferty well.

Rafferty skirted the counter slowly to lock the front door, all the while aware of the woman’s nervous gaze. He sensed her fear; it teased him, aroused him. His ability to control her only heightened his desire.

When the door was bolted securely, he swept past her to get behind the counter where he opened the door to the back room.

“Mrs. Kelt?” With a smile and a sweep of his hand, he gestured for the woman to precede him.

Mrs. Kelt stood uncertainly in the center of the storage room as he shut the door. He stared at her grimly. “What are ye waiting for?” he asked irritably.

Her hands trembled as she began to unbutton her bodice. The plea in her brown eyes incited his lust, made him swell and harden within his trousers.

She paused in her undressing, her face filled with uncertainty and fear. “Please,” she whispered.

He softened his expression as he approached. “I’ve a new shipment of ladies’ hats, Mrs. Kelt.” He stopped when he was within inches of her and touched her hair. His fingers were gentle as he unpinned her shining red tresses. He inhaled sharply as her hair unraveled,
and he combed the silken strands until they fell thick and glorious to her waist.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mrs. Kelt.” His breath quickened as he studied her lovely face. Lust tightened his muscles, begging to be unleashed.

She whimpered, and he growled and kissed her, subduing her with his strong arms as she started to struggle. He devoured her mouth and then lifted his head to gauge her response. “Ye want me to stop?”

He saw her indecision, her desire to escape, but instead of dampening his desire for her, it only strengthened it. He stared, transmitting a silent message.
Ye want to forget the arrangement? Tis fine by me, but I’ll not sell ye another thing till yer account is paid
…
in full.

Her eyes bleak, Mrs. Kelt shook her head, giving him the silent signal to continue. With a growl of satisfaction, Rafferty O’Connor took what the woman reluctantly offered.

Before I’m through, she’ll be loving what I do to her,
Rafferty told himself as he stripped off the woman’s clothes.

And the thought cleared his conscience.

The day was bright, a pleasant change from yesterday’s rain. White fluffy clouds dotted the azure sky, and the sun felt warm on Meghan’s face despite the time of year. She stood at the ship’s rail, conscious of the tall blond man beside her.

She thought of their concocted story, how they supposedly met in Dublin, fallen in love after a two-week courtship that had ended abruptly when Lucas had to return to America. Haunted by his feelings for Meghan, Lucas had returned to Ireland, only to find her gone. He had searched until he’d found her in England where he’d proposed and rescued her from pain and poverty, offering her a new life. It was a romantic story, which had touched the hearts of her cabin mates … and her. But such things didn’t occur in real life, did they? she wondered.

“How did your friends take the news?” Lucas asked, his voice low. It was as if he had been sharing her own thoughts. “Did they believe our story?” He turned from the view of the ocean.

Meghan noted the play of his arm muscles beneath his shirt as he leaned back, gripping the rail behind him. She lifted her gaze to his face and flushed when she saw that he was watching her.

“Mary Beth and Bridget seemed to believe it,” she
said. “But I’m not surprised Mrs. Finn guessed the truth.”

“Perceptive woman.”

She smiled. “Too perceptive at times, I think.” She spun and, like him, leaned back against the rail. She watched the industrious crew at work and sensed Lucas’s intent study of her. She chanced a glance at him and saw that she was right. His warm gaze slid from her eyes to her lips, and Meghan felt her blood flow with heat.

She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Why are ye looking at me like that?”

He slowly raised his gaze. “Like what?”

A tender smile played lightly about his lips, and Meghan’s breath caught at the male beauty of it. He was an extremely good-looking man … too attractive for her peace of mind.

“Like ye’re trying to see inside me and decide who I am,” she said.

Amusement flickered in his ebony eyes. “I know who you are, Meghan McBride. A man always makes it a point to know the woman who’s to be his wife.”

She gasped. “You know little of me ways.”

He looked thoughtful. “True.” He lifted his hand and trailed a finger down her cloaked arm. “Won’t you tell me about yourself?”

Meghan shivered under his touch. “I know little of yours either.”

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Good.” The male satisfaction in his tone made Meghan look at him with surprise before quickly glancing away. The impact of his dark eyes made her senses swim with sensation.

“What do you want to know?” She was breathless.

“Tell me about Ireland … about your family.”

“I have no family,” she said, feeling her loss deeply. “They’re all dead now.”

He pulled her about by the shoulders until she faced him, staring at his shirt front. Her eyes misted as she valiantly fought tears. “You have me,” he said.

Her gaze shot upward. His words had shocked her.
He means as a friend, girl,
she told herself, and was disappointed.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“I want to know you,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because you intrigue me, Meghan McBride.”

“Perhaps I’m married.”

He stiffened. “Are you?” His expression cleared before she answered. “No, you’re not married … or your husband would be with you.”

Lucas placed his finger beneath her chin. “But you were traveling with your father.” He tilted her face up for his inspection. Meghan felt a tremor as his finger feathered a caress over her cheek.

“Your father was sick,” he began in a husky voice, “so you must have been without food for a long time. You sold your land and went to England, hoping to find work of some kind. You’d heard that people, even the Irish, do not go hungry in England.”

Her surprise must have shown on her face, because he chuckled sofdy. “Did you think I could read your mind?” he asked.

“How—how did you know this?”

“Then it’s true?” He regarded her with triumph.

“Aye,” she whispered.

Lucas sighed and released her. “Your story is one of hundreds of other Irish.”

Meghan felt cold without his touch. “And I’m just like all the rest,” she murmured, disturbed by his assessment of her life.

“No,” he said, sounding sincere. He cupped her face and raised it until she was forced to look into his gaze. She became more physically aware of his masculinity … the power and strength of his hands cradling her jaw. He held her gently but firmly, insistently, like he didn’t want to let her go.

Surprise flickered in his dark gaze, and she realized with a sense of shock that he was as startled by his answer as she.

A pleasurable warmth invaded her limbs. He shifted his hands to her shoulders. She saw his head bend in her direction, felt the soft caress of his breath on her lips, and she found herself waiting with mind-numbing anticipation for his kiss.

What am I doing? I don’t even know this man,
she thought.
I am betrothed. What about Rafferty?

She jerked from his hold with a murmur of protest, and he released her without comment. She was unable to meet his gaze.

“Meghan—”

“No!” she cried. “This isn’t right. I hardly know ye.” When she finally looked at him, she saw that his smile held promise.

“A matter easily rectified,” he said, his lips curved but his gaze was unreadable. “Come.” He grabbed her arm. “You haven’t eaten and it’s close to noon. We’ll talk about this later. You must be hungry.”

He ushered her with such speed and command that Meghan had no choice but to allow him to lead her away.

Since she and her cabin mates had always taken their meals in their room, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Lucas took her back to his quarters.

She’d tensed when he’d paused on deck to speak to
a crewman about food, but then she relaxed as hunger took precedence over her wariness. But now, standing in his cabin as he shut the door, she gazed at Lucas with an accelerated heartbeat and the odd feeling of wanting to escape the man’s presence.

Her feelings must have shown on her face, because Lucas stared at her with a strange look.

“Lucas—”

“Relax, Meghan,” he said irritably. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“I didn’t think ye were.”

“No?” he said, his tone disparaging. “Your face tells me otherwise.” He stared at her hard, and flustered, she looked away.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t!” he barked. “Don’t apologize!” His outburst drew her astonished gaze. “I understand, Meghan,” he said, softening his tone. “I was surprised by your fear.” The dark eyes gazed at her with concern. “I don’t usually have this effect on women.” He paused. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do,” she said quickly. Too quickly to be convincing, she realized. And she could tell by his little half smile that he thought so, too.

“Would you rather return to your cabin?” he asked.

“No!”

This time her quick reply seemed to please him. “Good.”

A knock resounded from the cabin door. Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Dinner,” he said.

He opened the door; the crewman who entered was young. Probably no more than sixteen, Meghan thought.

At Lucas’s instructions, the boy set the wooden tray down on the table fastened against the back wall.

“Thank you, Peter,” Lucas said as he slipped the crewman a coin.

Peter’s eyes lit up. ‘Thank you, Mr. Ridgely.” The youth turned to Meghan. “Enjoy your dinner, miss,” he said.

She nodded and watched as he touched his fingers to his cap and left.

The cabin seemed quiet as Lucas shut the door. Meghan’s glance swung from Lucas to the food and back again.

The smell of beef wafted up from a plate on the tray to tease at her nose. Her stomach growled with hunger.

“Go ahead, Meghan,” Lucas invited softly. “Sit down. The food looks good, doesn’t it?”

She inclined her head and then moved toward the table. Suddenly, Lucas was behind her, pulling out a chair for her. She murmured her thanks and waited for him to sit down across from her. To her consternation, he adjusted his seat and sat next to her instead. She was conscious of the brush of his leg against her skirts as he served her dinner.

“Meat?” he asked.

How could the ship’s cook prepare meat to be so tasty after storing the beef for days and days at sea? Was the animal freshly killed?

Lucas seemed to read her mind. “Dried meat,” he said. “The cook on board is an expert on preparing dried food.”

Meghan nodded. She had learned to be grateful for all food. She knew all too well what it was like to be hungry.

The food was good just as she’d known it would be. Were her cabin mates enjoying the same fare? She thought not. Lucas, she decided, was used to having the best and no doubt he’d paid heavily to ensure it.

She tilted her head as she studied the man beside her. Was Lucas Ridgely a rich man?

The notion gave her a moment’s pause. It brought home to her again just how little she knew about the man who had saved her.

He ate with impeccable manners, not that she’d ever been schooled in the social rules of fine dining. Meghan scowled. Just finding enough food to survive had been a major concern for her and her father.

“Are you enjoying your meal?” Lucas looked up from his plate to find Meghan studying him. He met her gaze steadily and made several observations of his own.

“Aye,” she said. “Thank ye.”

He inclined his head, annoyed, not pleased, with her humble gratitude. It wasn’t gratitude he wanted from the Irishwoman.

Lucas tensed. What on God’s green earth
did
he want from Meghan McBride?

He studied her features. Her eyes were large and blue, so shiny that he felt he could drown in their liquid depths. Her nose was small and pert, and he loved the slight smattering of freckles across the bridge.

His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips … He felt his chest tighten as he watched her take a bite of bread. Her pink lips opened and cupped the thick crusty slice, and Lucas suddenly wanted to be the one her mouth tasted.

Good God! he thought. How could he feel desire for this skinny Irishwoman?

Because, he realized as he looked closer, she wasn’t thin really. In fact, the blue gown displayed her shape to advantage. He envisioned her lovely breasts beneath the cloth, soft … round … and firm.

Lucas felt his groin tighten as he recalled earlier
when he’d hugged her. The feel of those breasts pressing against his chest through the thin layer of her nightgown had startled him … and titillated his desire.

Dear Lord, was it because of her breasts that he’d changed his view of her?

Lucas scowled. He’d had his share of women. Why did this one taunt and tantalize him with her innocence? Why couldn’t he put aside the desire to have her beneath him in his bed?

She is vulnerable
, an inner voice reminded him.

But strong, he thought.

She’s been through a rough time.

I won’t hurt her, he reasoned. As my mistress, she’ll be safe on board this ship. She’ll have my protection as well as my attentions.

Mistress! Where did the idea come from? Since when did he start thinking of intimacy in their game of pretend? There was nothing pretend about his desire for her.

Lucas sipped from his glass, anticipating her agreement to his proposition, as he enjoyed the heat generated by the fine wine.

He’d have to approach this matter carefully. He didn’t want her to think that he was no better than Ned Fellows. Would she see the difference? Would she understand?

I must tread slowly, he thought. She’ll benefit from the arrangement. I’ve money to spend on her.

Meghan had known hunger and desperation. Why shouldn’t she agree to spend a little time with him?

There were approximately seven days left of the voyage. He’d spend the next two days wooing her gently, and then he’d have five full days to enjoy having her in his bed. Maybe she’d even agree to accompany him to Dover.

He wanted her. God only knew why, but it had to be this woman.
Meghan McBride.

He stared at her, watching her eat, realizing that today he must win her friendship. Tomorrow, he would ease closer to fully winning her trust.