Authors: Blackthorne
Ruth Langan (19 page)
Her tone was aggrieved. “I was not afraid.”
“Liar. You trembled when I touched you.”
“Well, maybe a little. You looked so fierce.”
He chuckled. “And you looked completely untouchable. I knew, there and then, that I wanted very much to touch. To muss this hair,” he muttered, brushing the damp hair from her face.
“Then why did it take you so long?”
His lips curved into a smile. “If you’ll recall, you weren’t very cooperative.”
“I felt shy.”
“I know. I found that very appealing.”
“Did you? I didn’t think you liked me very much.”
“Oh, Miss St. John, I do like you.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Very much.” He rolled to one side and drew her into the circle of his arms. “And I intend to show you just how much, as often as possible. Oh, Livvy, there’s so much I want to show you.”
He noticed that she’d gone very still. He leaned up on one elbow. “What is it? Is it something I said?”
“You called me Livvy.”
“Did I?” He smiled, relaxed again beside her. “It just seemed to fit. Do you mind?”
She shook her head. “That’s what my parents always called me.”
“You see? I was right. It fits. And when we’re alone, I intend to call you Liwy. Of course, you’ll still be Miss St. John when we’re with others. The very prim and proper governess, Olivia St. John.”
“Is that how you see me? Prim and proper?”
“Aye. And how do you see me?”
“A dark, dangerous pirate,” she said without hesitation. “Who would sail to exotic lands and engage his enemies in battle without fear.”
He smiled and twisted one of her curls around his finger. “This dark, dangerous pirate is laid flat by a single touch from you, little nursemaid.”
“Be careful, my lord. ’Twould be dangerous for you if I should believe I hold such power.” Just then she touched a hand to his chest and felt him tremble at her touch. Tremble? She gave a little cat smile and moved her hand lower.
He flinched. His voice was a low growl of pleasure. “If you don’t stop, my lady, you may discover just how much power you wield.”
“Is it possible...? I mean, could you...? Could we...?” She smiled. “Again?”
He gave a mock sigh of impatience. “One moment you are a sweet, untouched maiden. Now a wanton.”
“Aye.” She sat up, unselfconscious about her nakedness. Her dark hair tumbled about her face and shoulders in a most beguiling way. She bent over him, pressing her lips to his throat. “I believe you said there were things you wanted to show me.”
“And you wish to see them all now, little one?”
“Aye.” She moved her mouth lower, to his muscled, hair-roughened chest, then lower still across the flat planes of his stomach, and heard his quick intake of breath.
Drunk with power she gave a delighted laugh.
He dragged her fully on top of him. “I see I have no choice but to give you another lesson in the art of love.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Her little laugh was cut short by a hot, hungry kiss.
Quenton and Olivia lay tangled among his sumptuous bed linens. Dawn light was just painting the horizon. Some time during the night he had carried her to his big bed in the sleeping chamber. The fire had long ago died to embers, but neither of them had any wish to leave the warmth of the bed to add another log. And so they lay, arms and legs entwined, bodies touching.
All night they had loved, then slept, then awakened to love again. The depth of their passion caught them both by surprise. At times the loving had been as fierce as any storm, battering their senses, leaving them feeling oddly bruised and breathless. At other times it had been as sweet, as gentle as though they had loved forever.
Quenton brushed an errant curl from her eye and smiled. But who had been the teacher? The worldly sailor? Or the shy governess?
She had opened to him like a flower. She had given generously. And had been greedy as well. She was, he realized, a source of constant delight.
She blinked. “What are you thinking?”
“How pleasant it is to wake with you. How did I bear it all these years without you?”
She’d been thinking the same thing. She stretched, snuggled closer. “I feel so...” She paused, wondering just how honest she ought to be.
“You feel so what?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she felt as contented as a well-fed cat. Instead she finished Simply, “Safe with you, Quenton.”
“You are, my love. I give you my word, no harm will ever come to you.” The words were a fierce whisper as his arms closed around her and he dragged her against him.
“My bold, brave pirate.” She traced a finger over one of the many raised scars that laced his shoulders and back. “I hate that you bear the scars of battle.”
“They are only scars, my lady.”
“But they were once a source of pain. And I hate to think of you in pain.”
“The pain is gone, love. You’ve kissed it all away. Now come and kiss me again. Drive all the pain from my heart.”
And then his mouth was on hers, and his hands, those wonderful, clever hands, were once more working their magic.
The sky outside the windows lightened. Birds began their morning chorus. Inside, two people felt as alone as two others must have felt at the dawn of creation.
“I went to sleep last night at Blackthorne,” he murmured against her mouth. “And awoke this morrow in paradise.”
With soft sighs and whispered words of love, they drifted once more into their own enchanted Garden of Eden.
Chapter Sixteen
“M
y lord.” Edlyn’s muffled voice outside his chambers, and the sharp rap on the door, had Quenton and Olivia sitting up, sleepy-eyed and confused, among the tangled linens.
y lord.” Edlyn’s muffled voice outside his chambers, and the sharp rap on the door, had Quenton and Olivia sitting up, sleepy-eyed and confused, among the tangled linens.
Olivia gasped, then covered her mouth and whispered, “It cannot be morning already.”
The heavy coverings at the windows prevented them from seeing outside. But a tiny stream of sunlight filtered through a gap in the draperies.
Quenton shot her a wicked smile. “It would appear that we have overslept, my love.”
“How will I get to my chambers? My gown...” She cast a horrified glance at the tatters still lying in a heap where she’d left them. “Quenton, everyone at Blackthorne will know.”
There was another sharp rap, followed by a more urgent call. “My lord. Mistress Thornton has sent me to build your fire.”
“Thank you, Edlyn.” He glanced at the lovely young woman beside him and saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. He swallowed back a chuckle. “I’ll see to it myself.”
“And what of your tray, my lord? There’s tea and biscuits.”
Olivia groaned aloud.
“Leave it outside the door. I’ll fetch it in when I’m dressed.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Then a muffled “Aye, my lord.”
Quenton waited until he heard her receding footsteps. Then he fell back among the pillows and roared with laughter. “Oh, Livvy. You should see your face.”
“How will I ever face the staff? And poor little Liat. He must be frantically searching for his errant governess.” She turned to him. “Oh, Quenton, what will we do?”
“Well.” He traced his fingers up her arm, across the slope of her shoulder, loving the way she reacted to his simple touch. “You could fetch that tray while I build a fire. Then you’ll be all cozy and warm while you sip your tea and nibble your biscuits. And while you’re doing that, I could...nibble something else.”
She shot him a look. “How can you lie here and make sport of this situation while I’m sitting here worrying myself sick?”
“You’re right. It isn’t fair.” He reached up and pulled her down on top of him, then began nibbling his way along her throat. “If you’re going to worry, the least I can do is make you comfortable.” His mouth dipped lower, to the swell of her breast. He heard her little gasp of pleasure and smiled. “There now. Doesn’t that make you feel much better?”
She thought of several tart replies. Thought, too, about fighting him. But as always, she was beginning to lose herself in the wonder of his touch.
She would give voice to her clever responses later. Right now, she decided her best course of action was to simply enjoy the pleasure he was offering. And face what was to come later.
“Ah. Lord Stamford. Miss St. John.” The king looked up from his meal to study the couple as they advanced toward the table. Bennett and Minerva were already there, as was Liat.
Servants bustled about the room, casting furtive glances at the arriving couple. Pembroke, standing at attention by the door, never altered his expression as he watched them enter. Mistress Thornton, frazzled as always, bumped into the table at the first sound of the king’s greeting, then hurriedly backed away and busied herself with a platter.
“You’re looking especially fine, my old friend.” Charles patted the chair beside him. “Sit here, Miss St. John.”
Quenton held her chair and she settled herself beside the king. When Quenton took the seat next to her, their fingers brushed, clasped.
“I must say, Miss St. John, that the sea air certainly agrees with you. Why, you’re positively glowing.”
She blushed furiously while he glanced beyond her to his old friend. “Don’t you agree, Lord Stamford?”
“Aye, Majesty.” What had he been thinking of, bringing her down to break their fast with the king? He should have simply barred his door and kept her to himself for the entire day. Even now, just sitting beside her, he wanted her. Wanted to be alone with her.
“Have you two been walking in the gardens?”
“In the...gardens?” Olivia glanced from the king to Quenton. “Why do you ask, Majesty?”
“Because I met young Liat outside his chambers. He said he’d been searching in vain for you all morning, Miss St. John.” He shot her a knowing smile. “I assured the lad that you were probably walking with Lord Stamford. After all, there are few hiding places here at Blackthorne.” His smile grew. “And even fewer secrets.”
Olivia wished she could sink under the table and disappear. But since that wasn’t possible, she retreated into silence while her face flamed.
Taking pity on her, the housekeeper paused behind her and said gently, “Here’s some tea, miss. And a little hot mulled wine. ’Tis said to be most relaxing.”
Olivia offered a weak smile. “Thank you, Mistress Thornton.”
When a servant approached with a platter of meats and breads, Olivia helped herself to a single biscuit, while Quenton filled his plate.
“I see you have a hearty appetite this morrow, my friend.” The king drained his goblet and nodded his approval when a serving wench refilled it. “Nothing like a refreshing day at sea to sharpen...all sorts of hungers.”
Quenton saw the light of merriment in the king’s eyes and understood it. At any other time he would have thoroughly enjoyed his old friend’s gibes, and given them right back. Perhaps even preened a bit, pumped up his manhood with a few boasts of his own. But he was aware of Olivia’s acute embarrassment and was determined to shield her. Since she couldn’t take leave of this room until the king did, he had to find a way to hurry Charles along.
“I thought you might desire a visit to the stables, Majesty.”
“I saw the horses just two days ago when we went hunting.”
“Aye. But we didn’t get a chance to race our steeds.” At the king’s bored expression he added, “I’ll willingly wager a thousand pounds that my horse will take yours.”
The king brightened. “You wouldn’t be trying to distract me, would you, old friend?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Charles threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean. And I just may accept your wager, since you know how much I would enjoy taking your gold. But for now I wish to walk in your gardens.”
He got to his feet and the others followed.
Relieved, Quenton leaned close to Olivia and muttered, “You would be wise to take Liat to his chambers now and get started on his lessons.”
“Aye.” She couldn’t wait to escape the king’s merciless taunts.
But as they followed Charles from the room, he turned to Olivia. “You will accompany us, Miss St. John. Liat has been telling me how knowledgeable you are about plants and insects. I should like to see for myself.”
She groaned inwardly, while keeping her smile firmly in place, “Aye, Majesty. It would be my pleasure.”
At the sight of Quenton’s face, a wicked gleam came into the king’s eyes. “Was there something you wished to say, old friend?”
“Nay, Majesty.” He would say it later, when he got his old friend Chills alone. And this time, the air would be blue with his curses.
“Good. Come along then.”
They stepped outside into glorious sunshine and moved slowly along the grassy path.
“If you’d like to run ahead of us, lad, you can search for butterflies.”
“Thank you, Majesty.” Feeling frisky and free, Liat veered from the path and danced eagerly among the roses.
The others strolled more slowly, pausing to admire the carefully tended hedges, and to breathe in the lovely fragrance of roses, bluebells and buttercups that wafted on the breeze. The king walked in front, demanding that Olivia walk beside him, with Quenton walking behind. Bennett, pushed in his wheeled chair by Minerva, brought up the rear.
The king turned his head. “I do believe Blackthorne has some of the loveliest gardens I’ve ever seen, Lord Stamford.”
“Thank you, Majesty. I shall convey your praise to our gardeners.”
Charles caught Olivia’s hand. “And you, my dear, are the loveliest flower of all.”
Behind them, Quenton’s hand curled into a fist by his side. Charles knew exactly how to get to his old friend. And he was doing a splendid job of it.
“I fear you mistake me for one of your titled ladies at court, Majesty.”
Seeing the color that came to her cheeks he turned to his host. “Can this be? A beautiful woman who is unaware of her beauty?”
Quenton’s eyes softened as he nodded. “Aye, Majesty. She is a. rare treasure, is she not?”
“A rare treasure indeed.”
They looked up at Liat’s excited cry. Following the sound of his voice they found him pointing to a butterfly perched on a pale pink rose. “Look, Majesty. It is a
Celastrina argiolus.
Miss St. John said they are very rare here in Cornwall.”
Celastrina argiolus.
Miss St. John said they are very rare here in Cornwall.”
“This is wonderful.” Catching the lad’s hand, the king moved in for a closer look. “You see these lovely colors?”
Liat nodded. “Miss St. John said they look like the windows of a cathedral.”
“An apt description, Liat. Ah, see how gracefully it flits from flower to flower.”
They darted about the garden, keeping the butterfly. in sight, while the others followed behind. It was the perfect opportunity for Quenton to take Olivia’s hand and pretend to help her over the rough paving.
“I wish we were alone,” he whispered. “I want to hold you. Kiss you.”
“Hush, Quenton. Someone will hear.”
“I care not if the whole world knows.” He paused beside a bed of ferns and skimmed a hand over her cheek. “Let’s run away.”
“Where would we run?”
“I know not. To sea perhaps. Aboard the
Prodigal.”
Prodigal.”
She shared his smile. “Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Ah. Here you are.” The king’s voice sounded just behind them, causing them both to step apart. “The Celastrina has flown off across the meadow.”
He gave Quenton and Olivia a long, knowing look, then broke into an impish grin. “Let’s sit right here, lad, and see if we can spot another.”
Olivia could hear Quenton’s little hiss of impatience when the king and Liat dropped down on a stone bench to discuss in detail what they had just seen.
Charles gave them a wide smile. “This has been quite a morning. Two rare beauties.”
“Two?” Liat looked puzzled.
“Aye. The
Celastrina argiolus
and your governess.” With a rumble of laughter at his little joke he caught the boy’s hand. “Let’s walk some more, Liat, and see if we can find more rare treasures.” He turned and said in his most imperious tone, “Lord Stamford, I expect you and Miss St. John to join us. And this time, try to keep up.”
Celastrina argiolus
and your governess.” With a rumble of laughter at his little joke he caught the boy’s hand. “Let’s walk some more, Liat, and see if we can find more rare treasures.” He turned and said in his most imperious tone, “Lord Stamford, I expect you and Miss St. John to join us. And this time, try to keep up.”
“Lord Stamford, the number and variety of butterflies in your garden leaves me dazzled.” The king was in high spirits after several hours in the company of Liat and Olivia. “The lad is being very well tutored. I can’t say enough about his governess. The depth of her knowledge is much more than I’d expected.”
Hearing such praise, Olivia found herself blushing again.
Quenton loved the color that leapt to her cheeks whenever she found herself the center of attention. It was just one more of her endearing qualities.
As they neared the courtyard Charles said, “You must tell me more about the source of your knowledge.”
“I was tutored by my father, James St. John. He was a shy, humble teacher of botany at Oxford.”
The king paused and turned to study her. “James St. John? This is amazing, Miss St. John. I know of your father.”
Her eyes widened.
“We corresponded after I read several of his papers. I was enormously impressed by the range of his knowledge and interest. He sent me several specimens for my collection. And in return I awarded him a title and a very generous stipend.”
“A...title and stipend?”
“As the newest addition to my circle of royal advisers I thought it only fitting that he be given the title of Lord. And with the title, a modest estate in Oxfordshire.” He studied her more closely. “You seem surprised, my dear.”
She nodded, too stunned for words. “Why would my parents have kept such a thing from me?”
“You did not know?” Quenton asked.
“Nay.”
He took her hand. “You declared them to be humble people. Perhaps they thought such a revelation would sound as though they were boasting.”
“Perhaps. But wouldn’t they have wanted to share such an honor with their own daughter?” She was clearly shaken. “And what could they have done with the estate and the stipend?”
Quenton turned to the king. “You say this was given to Olivia’s father, Majesty?”
“I did not personally meet with him. The decision was made at court and an emissary dispatched to notify them.”
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