My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (19 page)

So, this was what it felt like to let your guard down and fall in love with someone? What happiness felt like flowing through your limbs?

Flinging her arm over her head, Anne laughed.

Bloody hell, she’d decided to marry the Englishman.

Chapter 21

Waking to a small boy-child snuggled against his naked chest, his arm holding the lad close to him, was a new, but bizarre experience. Addison smiled, a content sensation radiating through his limbs. Not wanting to wake the sleeping child, he removed his arm from around the lad and gently lifted himself from the bed.

He’d anticipated that Anne would return to his room after she’d nursed the twins, but then he’d found the boy. Not having the heart to move him, he stripped out of his shirt and joined the lad upon the bed. Holt had curled right into the curve of his belly, a novel feeling, that. Giving comfort was its own reward, and Addison had found himself drifting right to sleep.

Sunlight poured into the room, emphasizing the reddish tint to the lad’s hair and the pale glow to his face. Addison pulled the coverlet onto the boy, and headed to the washstand to freshen up.

He would make a quick turn around the rice fields, checking progress and making certain his workmen did not need anything in the way of supplies or instruments to complete their work.

Making quick work of washing his hands, face, upper body, and the rest of him, he dressed for the run to the fields. Remembering the upcoming evening meal with the Royal Governor stirred a new set of nerves loose in his belly. He had no idea how Anne would behave, but if she was going to be his wife, she’d have to entertain the governor and other individuals of his acquaintance, when needed.

She’d done wonderfully when interacting with his slaves the night before. Why would she not do the same with the governor? Anne had the ability to enchant and ensnare those around her with her vivacious, freeing nature. How could Francis Nicholson not be charmed?

Shrugging off the anxiety, Addison skipped down the stairs—trying not to examine the lightness he felt in his step—and into the family dining area to enjoy the delicious smells floating through the house, even at this early hour.

After the morning meal, Addison checked each and every rice field, riding alongside John Knox, whom he admired and trusted for his knowledge of growing and harvesting rice. There was a need for two bushel barrels and two of his slaves had come down with a sickness and could not work for the past two days.

Addison had assured them he’d come back in the next day to assist personally, and he’d purchase the tools needed. Feeling confident about the progress being made on his fields, and especially the fields he’d cultivated from his contract with William Cormac, he turned Apollo around and headed back for the stables.

He’d need to prepare the logbook entries for today’s shipments, and ready all three of his ships for sail this afternoon. All three would be heading toward London, and then on to India where he hoped to make good connections with a new business owner.

The stable door remained closed as he approached, and he recognized Beedee from the previous evening . . . standing guard? The man’s dark skin glistened from sweat as he leaned back against the barn wall. When he recognized Addison bearing down on him from atop Apollo, the man nodded. “Mornin’, sir.” Beedee squinted up at him.

“Good morning, Beedee.” Addison tipped his head, indicating the barn. “Why is the door closed? Are all the horses out in the field?”

“Yes, sir. Horses are afield. But . . .” His dark eyes darted from side to side, as if making sure no one watched their exchange. “You’re to go inside, and I’m to take Apollo afield for a turn.” He held out his hands for the reins.

“I’m to go inside? You mean, someone has given you orders?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Anne asked me to tell everyone to stay away from the stables, and to send you inside.”

Addison tossed Apollo’s reins down to Beedee’s awaiting hand, his brows drawn together. “Sure thing, Beedee. Make sure he gets a drink of water first.”

“Yes, sir.” He led Apollo toward the horse trough near the front of the stable.

Addison trusted Beedee with his horse, so he directed his attention to the mysteriously closed barn door.

What had the vixen planned, and why did she hide in the stable? And, what was she doing out and about this early in the morning? She was up to something . . . and, so far, he wasn’t sure he liked the feel of it.

He walked through the door and it closed behind him with a smack. The sun filtered through the roofing slats of the stable offering a dim illumination inside the barn. Two hatches in the ceiling lay open. He’d had them installed so as to allow the Carolina heat to escape during the day.

She stood at the opposite end of the stable, leaning against the stairs that led up to the loft. The fiery strands of her hair tousled about the pale, heart-shaped face, and her large eyes displayed no specific emotion he could think of at the moment.

Wearing a dressing gown that she’d probably awoken in, and cream-colored stockings, gave her the appearance of just rolling out of bed and needing to speak with him in haste. A jolt of lust hit him in the groin. The gown itself had no shape, except to outline the smallness of her waist where the green ribbon cinched it closed.

“I find my patience is about as tolerant as my temper when waiting.” There was no anger in her eyes, nor her voice, but a sultry, throaty sound that did nothing to alleviate the tightness growing in his breeches.

“Had I known you were awaiting my company, madam, I might have hurried along with my tasks.”

She walked in his direction with a determined step, so he held his ground. What
was
she up to?

“You’ve asked Beedee to make sure we were alone. Why is that, madam?”

The slight lift to her lips as she walked past him caused his heart to stutter.

“Yes, it is a necessity. I’ve something to tell you, or show you, that is very important.” Without turning, he heard her slide the iron rail into place, securing the door and barring it from any interruptions.

“Are you going to have your way with me?” He knew that could not be the case as he’d already stated his preference for a proper place when next they met. He gave her a wry smile as she walked back to stand a yard or so away from him.

“It was a thought.” A wicked gleam appeared in her emerald eyes; the dark lashes accentuated the deep color. Her bottom lip seemed a tad fuller this morning, perhaps due to the fact she now bit down upon it. His rod surged, as did his interest.

Curiously, she remained a distance from him, as if whatever she had to say might keep him from pouncing on her. Judging by the innocence displayed on her face, biting upon her lip, and the mischief he could see in the slight tilt to her eyes—she was about to reveal something that might shock him—or, infuriate him.

“Is that how a lady, such as yourself, requests an audience from her future husband, then?” He nodded to her obvious display of just rolling from bed. The dressing gown did nothing for her curvaceous figure. “You greet him upon just waking, without changing into appropriate daytime attire? You rushed so that you’ve forgotten your shoes? Not that I mind . . .”

She untied the green ribbon at her waist, lifting it slowly, and letting it sail to the stable floor. A deeper thump drummed against his breeches.

“I don’t think a lady would be in a stable . . . like this.”

The dressing gown hit the floor.

He couldn’t form a coherent thought to save his life.

Standing in nothing but her dark, lacy garters that neatly grabbed the top of her stockings, Anne anchored her hands on her hips. He’d not had the pleasure of actually
viewing
her naked body, even though they’d made love before this day.

She stood far enough away to keep his hands from her, and for him to soak in the beauty and seduction before him. From the red tendrils that floated about the pale, creamy, heart-shaped face, down to her full, delicious breasts . . . and lower, to the dark, reddened curls that beckoned from the juncture of her thighs, the sultry lure of Anne Morgan was undeniable.

Her legs seemed incredibly long in just her stockings. It was the most erotic display of womanhood he’d ever envisioned.

A slow smile spread across her full lips, her teeth white, and eyes glassy with female power. “You denied me the pleasure of your touch last evening.”

“Sweet mercy.” The length of his rod strained against his breeches. He strode toward her, grasping her about the waist and hauling her to his chest. Mouth descending without thought, he kissed her as hard as she him, his free hand roaming down and clutching her backside to press her exposed flesh into the hardness awaiting her. Her leg wrapped around his waist, the friction of the stocking nearly triggering his release, there on the spot.

Half carrying her backward, he pushed her back against the nearest stable wall. She reached into the top of his breeches, seizing the thick length of him.

Groaning, he traced a heated path down her throat while she stroked him, his hand reaching around her backside to caress the wetness awaiting his touch. Anne moaned, gripping him more firmly. Untying the string at the top of his breeches was a feat as he fumbled around; he was in such a state of urgency.

Finally free, his mind willed him to move forward, to send her over the brink first. Pressing a knee between her thighs, his fingers still playing in her silken folds, he held her in place while he licked a path down over her nipple-ripened breast.

Her hands tangled in his hair, her hitched moans urging him to suckle her.

He moved his tongue down to swirl in her navel, then lifted her knee and propped her leg against his shoulder, opening her to his view.

He looked up to find her staring intently into his eyes. He gave her a slow smile, then traced a line along her inner thigh with his tongue.

She gasped, pulling his hair and yet pushing his head closer to her center. He met her eyes briefly before kissing the quivering nub hidden in her nether curls. She gasped with desire as he probed, then inserted one finger beyond her fortress walls, laving her with a swish of his tongue . . . with . . . each . . . shattering . . . cry.

She quivered, tearing at his hair, drenching him in her ecstasy. He took that moment to grip her thighs, then thrust into her, his fiery rod immersed to the hilt.

He found her mouth as a moan escaped; the heat and wetness greeting him so pleasurable, he had to stand still for a moment.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms about his neck, Anne’s hips undulated, as did her tongue within his mouth. It quite undid him, and all he could do was thrust . . . once, twice.

Unable to stop, the rising tide pumped into her on the second thrust and he lost all reason. Time and sound ceased.

Pounding into her heat, Anne convulsed around him, her scream echoing throughout the empty barn.

Her legs still firm around his waist, he rested his face in the hollow of her neck, gasping for air. Fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing just as strenuous as his.

“You have a strange way of speaking, madam.” He breathed into her neck.

“You seemed to understand it well.” There was satisfaction in her voice.

Reaching up, he kissed her long and hard, before releasing her to stand. Though she teetered momentarily, she traipsed with all due grace and elegance toward her dressing gown. Bloody hell if his rod didn’t start swelling again at the sight of her bending down to retrieve it.

“There’s not much about a naked, beautiful woman that needs be discussed.” The languid feeling extended through his limbs as he laced up his breeches. But, an ardent need to drag Anne up to the main house, and make love to her again in his bed assailed him anew. “I did refrain last evening from taking you here in the barn, however.”

She shrugged into her dressing gown. “I wish you hadn’t, but we’ve rectified that.” She walked over to one of the stalls and picked up the boots she’d shucked before his entrance.

One side of her dressing gown hung off one creamy shoulder as she turned to give him a gamine smile.

“Madam, we’ll never leave this stable if you do not exit straight away.” He started after her.

Her eyes widened as she spied the hardness displayed in his breeches.

“Aye, I can see you understand.” Her tongue shot out to lick her lips and he knew he’d not be leaving the stable any time soon.

He took her again, lying on her dressing gown on top of the hay where they’d nearly made love the previous evening, this time removing all of his clothing.

And, one more time after that.

It took him nearly two hours to leave the stable.

When they emerged, Anne’s hair—and probably his own—needed a good fine-toothed-comb in which to rid themselves of particles of hay.

They had conversed when lying in the hay, speaking of her uncle, the children, and Addison’s family. There was a distinct ease about her manner as they lay there, and he felt she had made a decision. Although she’d not said as much, her surrender—or was it his?—indicated a change.

All throughout the early afternoon he found himself whistling and planning a few changes for their future. All three of his ships had been loaded, carrying the very best of his rice crop, and that of Henry’s tobacco crop. It was quite possible he’d amass a small fortune on these three shipments.

Just as he was planning to call it an afternoon, he found William Cormac standing before his office desk.

Addison gave the man a respectful nod before smiling and shaking the older gentleman’s hand.

“Sir, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Cormac took a seat in the chair before Addison’s desk, a curious gleam behind his blue eyes. “So, I take it you’ve not regretted our agreement?”

“No, sir. Everything is panning out quite nicely, if I may say so. You have been very generous.”

“Anne has not done aught to change your mind?” Cormac’s dark, bushy brows lifted, the creases upon his forehead scrunching together.