My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (15 page)

She nearly choked on her food. Did he know of her past? What
had
her father told him? Impossible.

But, he’d surprised her yet again. A lord choosing piracy over aristocracy? With his coloring, muscular physique, and determination, he’d make a fabulous pirate. A dashing, too seductive, pirate.

“Oh?” It was time to extricate these traitorous notions, to set herself apart from this tension. All Addison’s fault, surely. With the cool grace of a lioness leaping upon prey, she leaned back in her chair, indicated her surroundings with a wave, and found his eyes once more. “There’s not much luxury to be made like this, or fortune, in piracy.”

He regarded her. “You speak as if you have experience.” The wry smile still lingered on his lips.

Smiling, she brought her attention back to the food before her. “Need I remind you? I’ve been to Tortuga.” Meeting his eyes, seeing a pulse ticking in his throat from where she sat, she decided to press her luck.

“You aren’t going to go on about how you’re not fit to wed me, yet again?”

She pursed her lips. “But, I am not fit.”

The silver orbs, rimmed in green, glowed once again.

“We fit well together, earlier.”

Chapter 17

Addison had no idea what in the seven hells he was about. What had gotten into him? While she’d spent the time explaining how she was no lady, he’d been inadvertently showing her a side to him he’d never known existed—restless, uninhibited, impulsive.

He never spoke in such a taunting, deliberate way in the presence of a woman. He certainly wouldn’t make wild, sudden love to one in a storeroom of a tavern. The very memory of the episode both perplexed and stimulated him.

His blunt reminder of their foray in The Hound and the Hare managed to incite her emerald gaze to stare in his direction, her cheeks dashed with a charming shade of pink. Her eyes darkened with heat at the memory he invoked. She was not unaffected. Blood rushed directly to his groin. He wanted to hear the moan spill from her full, luscious mouth, just as in the storeroom, over and over again.

Bloody hell
.

He shifted uncomfortably in place, knowing if he let the air between them simmer, he’d find himself buried inside her, right there on the dining table.

“I detected a slight lilt to your words when you’re in a huff. Scottish?” He took a fork full of a slightly tepid piece of meat, which didn’t remove his lust-filled thoughts. She exhaled, silent for a moment while rubbing the back of her neck.

Shaking her head, she frowned. “Irish.”

He rolled the flavorless meat with his tongue, wishing he were tasting her. “I’d always just assumed your . . .” Clearing his throat he realized he had vowed to keep that knowledge secret, “. . . uncle hailed from Scotland.”

“No, Ireland, born and bred.” She gave him a wry smile, “I suppose that’s why I have a bit of a temper.”

He chuckled at that bit of cheek. “A bit?” Looking up, he caught her sparkling, emerald eyes narrowing on him. He gave her a smile, hoping to see her lips stretch wider. “You’re not going to use that spoon as a weapon, are you?”

“I’d have already thrown it if I were going to do that.” Her lips twitched.

He wanted to kiss her, to taste the wine from her lips she’d sipped. To undress her slowly, lay her on his bed, and fan her fiery, sunset hair upon the sheets.

“I do believe you.” He ran a hand through his hair, shifting in his seat again. “I’ve a dinner guest arriving in two days. I know you were expected at Isabel’s for the . . . planning.” Her smile wavered. “However, I would like for you to join us for dinner.”

Her shoulders dropped into a more relaxed pose at the mention of delaying the wedding plans. “Are you certain you wish
me
to be there?”

“Do not go on about not being a lady again. Besides, you don’t know the fellow, nor he you. It is strictly a friendly meeting. He’s an old friend, and a great asset to Charles Town.”

Her eyes widened. “An asset? This must be a person of some importance. And, you would like me to help entertain him? Are you quite mad?”

He frowned, “Madam, you will retain some semblance of decorum for this guest, and as my future wife.”

The smile he’d desperately wanted to coax from her lush lips appeared, but not for the reasons he’d anticipated. He was doomed. “Who is this person?”

“The Royal Governor of South Carolina.”

She laughed, “Of course, the Governor. I should be honored.”

Smelling trouble, he didn’t doubt she’d try to show him her unworthiness as a mate. “I trust you’ll be at your best.” A truce was in order, and it was not a good time to continue their spicy banter, entertaining as it was. Her smile, anticipation, all pointed to mischief, but she radiated the trait, and it suited her.

An impish gleam shone in her green eyes.

There was no denying he wanted her.

Wanted her with a passion he’d not felt, ever. First, he’d have to break down her shield. Wiping his mouth, he stood. If he didn’t leave, he’d either throw her over his knee or bend her over yet another table—and the latter seemed an imminent possibility.

Seven hells.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to Apollo. In my hurried state this afternoon, I did not properly attend him.”

Their eyes met meaningfully, an emotion passing in her eyes that he could not name.

He spent the next half hour making certain Apollo was brushed, washed, fed, and bedded down for the night. The entire time he spent reliving the feel of Anne, her fire, her passion. Her mysterious past determined her current actions. The harder she convinced him of her unworthiness, the more he saw a determination and pride that he admired. He resolved he would change her mind, or be damned.

Holt’s tiny voice carried on a breeze from the rear of the plantation. Eliza stood with the boy as he grabbed at the darkening night. Holt’s pursuit of a bug that glowed yellow every now and again brought fond memories to mind. As a lad, he’d played the timeless game quite regularly with his brothers.

Grinning, he joined the fun, swiping his hand above the boy’s head and catching the tiny insect. Cupping his hands together, he knelt before Holt, then let him peek between his fingers to display their small prisoner. Holt’s eyes grew wide as he looked to Addison with awe.

“Me! Me!” The insect flew off, and Addison grabbed Holt by the waist, pulling him up to sit on the top of his shoulders. “
Wheeeeeeeeee
!”

“Eliza, you may come for young Holt in a while. I’m going to take him down to the river for a turn.”

She nodded, smiling at them fondly. “Aye, Lord Blackhurst. I think he’d love that.”

“Is Mrs. Morgan still in the dining area?”

“No, milord. She’s with the twins, I believe.”

“Bye, ‘Liza.” The lad shouted as he spurred Addison’s ribs as if riding Apollo.

“I’ll be back, little lad.” She laughed as she turned toward the house.

They took off down the grass walkway to where the River Ashley meandered with silent dignity along the back of the property. The full moon reflected effortlessly from the water, illuminating the area. A torch would only diminish the ambiance.

The lighted bugs flickered here and there. He held fast to Holt’s knees as he reached out to grab as many as he could on the walk to the river’s edge.

Once there, Addison lifted the boy off his shoulders and stood him on the moist grass beside him.

“I’m going to show you something I learned as a young lad, such as yourself.”

Deep, green eyes gazed up at him.

“Let me see . . .” Finding a large payload of smooth, flat stones lying just to the left of where they stood, he reached down and grabbed a handful. “Now, open your hand.”

Holt held out his hand, palm up.

“I want you to toss this out there, as hard as you can, as far as you can.” Addison demonstrated the toss, arcing his stone to the side so that the flat surface skipped across the top of the water.

The boy’s eyes lit with fascination. He bit the bottom of his lip in concentration and threw his first rock into the River Ashley.

It didn’t go far, but the light in the lad’s eyes, and the enormous grin stretching his lips, was enough to make Addison laugh. Holt reached for more rocks, chucking each one into the water one right after the other. Addison shrugged and began to follow in the boy’s example.

They laughed together and threw rocks for quite some time. “I think it might be time for you to head back, son.”

Addison found himself ruffling the lad’s dark hair.

He’d acquired a son. A bright, mischievous, smaller version of his mother. A tightness squeezed his chest at the emotion hitting him at the realization.

He crouched down on his knees and gave the boy a one-armed hug just then.

“More!” Not an unusual request from such an energetic child.

“I’ve promised to bring you back to Miss Teach.” Gripping the lad’s much smaller hand, he turned them to go back up the grass walkway. How simple an act, grabbing a boy’s hand. Yet, a fervor rushed through his veins. Fatherhood. Yes, he could do this.

Anne glowed in the moonlight, shoulders bared, all creamy-white. Wisps of her ginger-red hair fluttered on the late night breeze. But, his gaze held on her dark, cotton dress when a gust flattened her skirts, outlining her magnificent body. His breath left in a whoosh. The wind and the moonlight combined forces and punched him in the gut.

“I’ve come to see what all of the excitement was over.” She smiled down at Holt as her son rushed to her side.

“Rocks, mama.” She picked him up in her arms, nuzzling her face into his little neck.

A pang he couldn’t describe, an odd thumping where his heart was, overwhelmed him as she cuddled her son. Her face glowed with happiness.

“Aye, a terribly fun past-time, if I may say so.” Her eyes met his, a smile playing about her mouth.

“I thought I’d teach him the fun of being a lad.” His heart swelled at the emotion playing across her face.

Eliza strode toward them, coming for her charge like a bee after its nest.

“It’s Master Holt’s bed time, milord, my lady.”

“Aye, Eliza. Here you go, Holt.” Anne placed the boy into Eliza’s waiting arms, brushing her lips to his cheek. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

Holt looked to him, and Addison ruffled his hair once more. “G’night, son.”

“Nite.” Holt rested his head on Eliza’s shoulder as she strolled back toward the house.

“He’s full of your energy, I’m thinking.” His pulse stirred at her crooked smile.

She gazed out at the river. “Aye, you’d be right. I’ve energy aplenty. My father had quite a time with me growing up. I never wanted to sit still long enough to learn the proper duties of a lady of the house.”

Surprised by the revealing conversation, he tread slowly so as not to interrupt the giving mood she seemed to be in. He needed to know more.

“You had no urge to sew, or worry about the daily workings of a household?”

She eyed the moon. “Not one bit. I wanted to ride horses, racehorses, go sailing. My father was so disappointed in me by the time I came of age.”

Not wanting the temporary truce between them to end, he grabbed her hand to pull her along the river to a spot he knew they could relax.

“What . . .? Where are we going?”

He turned to her, grinning at her confused look. “There is a much better view over here.” Turning back to shove a few wayward branches from their path, he coaxed more. “Sailing. You had mentioned your love of sailing before.”

The smell of river water, ragweed, and the many magnolia trees permeated the air around them. They trekked through the grassy slope to where an outcropping of rocks rose from a small cove of the river.

“There’s nothing like feeling the wind in your hair, sea spray on your face, and the fresh scent of the ocean. I liken it to how a bird feels when flying.”

He stopped them on a grassy patch, still holding her hand, warm and soft tucked into the palm of his hand.

As if she realized their hands were still entwined, she removed hers. Not wanting to spook her, he sat first, then lay back in the grass, placing one hand behind his head.

“I have to agree with you on that. It’s quite freeing. I enjoy it rather a lot. Many times, I sail with one of my ships just to feel that way.”

She looked down at him, her green eyes indiscernible with the moonlight directly behind her. The light tone of her skin fairly glowed, however, the creamy silkiness of it aching for his touch.

Turning to look once again at the moon high over them, she sighed. “With the moon so large and bright like this, I wish I were on a ship right now.”

He patted the ground next to him, not sure if it was a good idea or not, but he was compelled to feel her next to him.

“Come, have a sit. Stare up at the stars with me.”

“No, I need to return to the house.” She stared at him as if he’d asked her to eat a snake.

He grinned, “Come on. You’ve never seen stars until you’ve lain here and gazed up at them.” He thumped the grassy area once more.

She shook her head, fiery wisps escaping her braid. “No.”

Sighing, he reached up. “For Christ’s sake, Anne.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down beside him, rolling to put one leg over both of hers as she lay on her back.

She sputtered, but didn’t fight as he’d undoubtedly caught her off guard. Inhaling, he could smell the lilac soap she’d used earlier.

“Let me up, please.” She remained still, but she breathed heavily, her breasts plumping up and straining against her dress with each breath. Peering up at the sky, she evaded his eyes.

Smiling, he reached out to trace the elegant line of her neck. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” She visibly shivered, although the air was thick with moisture and warmth.

“There are so many.” She swallowed, licking her lips after. “You know, the number of times I’ve gazed up at the night sky, I never bothered to simply enjoy the moon and stars as just that—an incredible view.”

Her lips were ripe, plump, but her porcelain features swelled his desire. For every star in the sky this evening, she had an accompanying freckle dotting her ivory skin. They made her appear soft, and innocent.

“I can’t keep my eyes off them.”

Dragging a finger in a slow swirl from the dip at the base of her throat across her shoulder, he traced the freckles. Her breathing paced his touch, a small pulse ticked in her throat. Tension filled the air, an energy that sparked whenever they were in proximity of one other.

“You come here often.” Her voice came out breathy, and slow.

Tempted, he leaned forward and brushed his lips along her cheek, whispering in her ear. “Not as much as I’d like.”

A moan escaped her, and any thought other than sinking into her floated from his brain.

“To hell with it . . .” She uttered the words he’d been screaming at himself for days, before turning her head and pressing those full, rosy lips to his.