Sea of Desire
Authors: Christine Dorsey
Tags: #Romance, #Love, #Adventure, #Mystery, #sexy, #sensual, #charleston, #passionate
Christine Dorsey
With love to my second son Chris,
for his dedication and passion.
And as always, to Chip
First published by ZEBRA BOOKS
Copyright 1993 by Christine Dorsey
Digitally published by Christine Dorsey at
Smashwords, 2012
Cover Design by
Hot Damn
Designs
Ebook Design by
A Thirsty Mind
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either products of the author’s
imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of
Contents
“
I cannot but lament... the impending Calamities
Britain and her Colonies are about to suffer... Passion governs,
and she never governs wisely...”
— Benjamin Franklin
February 5, 1775
Land’s End, England
Late Summer, 1777
A storm was coming.
Merideth Banistar shivered beneath her
scarlet cape. Taking a deep breath of sea-scented air, she wrapped
the folds more tightly about her body. She stood on a granite ledge
overlooking the inlet. When the midday sun burned off the mist she
could see for miles across the channel below, but tonight, with
even the moon obscured by rain-heavy clouds, darkness enshrouded
her. Only the incessant pounding of the surf told of the beach
below.
But she hadn’t come here for the view. She’d
come escape. Her father’s anger. The uncomfortable naggings of her
own conscience.
Could her father be right? Was she dooming
them both because of her stubborn refusal to accept Lord Chadwell’s
proposal? Merideth swallowed, remembering the rheumy eyes and
warted nose of the elderly earl. His skin was parchment thin, and
when he spoke to her his breath smelled of soured wine.
Yet, as her father was quick to point out, he
seemed kind. He had that to recommend him... that and his
fortune.
Merideth sighed, the sound caught by a gust
of moisture-laden air and carried toward the looming house behind
her.
Banistar Hall. It had been in her family for
generations, ever since Charles II awarded the windswept land at
the ends of the earth to Richard Banistar in 1665. And they, she
and her father, were going to lose it.
Because she couldn’t... or wouldn’t... make a
suitable match.
Lord Chadwell was their last chance,
according to her father. So yesterday when Merideth stated her
refusal to accept him, Alfred Banistar declared all hope gone. And
through most of the day and evening placed the fault for their
near-impoverishment squarely on Merideth’s shoulders.
The wind whipped about her, tugging at her
velvet hem and freeing strands of wildly curling golden hair from
beneath her hood. But she refused to accept the blame for their
problems. “I won’t,” she yelled into the face of the storm.
As if in response, the sky crackled, flaring
the darkness with a sizzle of white lightning.
And in that instant Merideth’s heart leaped
to her throat.
For the split second of brilliance revealed a
man on the beach below. The flash of’ light caught him bounding
from a small boat into the ebb tide, his movements registering raw
power. Like herself he was wrapped in a cloak, though his was black
as sin and enfolded a form both tall and large of frame.
Merideth stood frozen, like the imprint of
the man on her mind, as night again enveloped her. Shaking her
head, she tried to convince herself that imagination was playing
her for a fool. There was no logical reason for anyone to risk
coming ashore mid the rocks below—not in the dark of night. At
least no licit reason.
The hair at Merideth’s nape bristled as
another streak of lightning seared the sky. The man was gone. The
boat, now pulled onto the shore, was not. This was no apparition.
His presence was as real as the pistol he held.
Her heart pounding, Merideth grabbed up her
skirts and ran toward the twinkling lights behind her. By the time
she reached the garden, huge raindrops pelted her cloak, soaking
through to her gown, wetting her hair and face.
The storm was upon her.
Nothing was as he’d expected.
Jared Blackstone paced across the threadbare
Aubusson rug, past the empty bookshelves, then turned back to face
the traitor. No, not traitor. Informant. Jared had to remember not
to let his prejudice be obvious. The Americans, his countrymen,
needed the information this man could give.
Forcing the scowl from his dark features,
Jared settled into the leather chair opposite Alfred Banistar and
watched as the older man squirmed.
Alfred cleared his throat nervously and
brushed his hand over his ruffled cuff. “You have the money with
you?”
“Aye.”
Nodding once, Alfred rose and moved toward
his ornately carved desk—one of the few pieces of furniture in the
room. After jerking the top from a crystal decanter, he splashed
amber liquid into a glass. “Madeira?” he asked, and downed the
contents quickly when Jared declined.
Feeling a bit more himself, Alfred poured
another portion, his hand a little steadier, and resumed his seat.
“I didn’t expect you this night, not with the storm.”
Wind-lashed rain pelted the tall casement
windows and Jared wondered himself why he had chanced coming ashore
tonight. The only reason he could come up with was that he wanted
to put this task behind him. Meeting with a British spy did not sit
well. Jared was much happier commanding the privateer
Carolina
then delving into the world of intrigue. If not for
the plea from his cousin Daniel Wallis, Jared would be harassing
British shipping on the high seas, not sitting in the run-down
library of an English lord.
“I hope your surprise in seeing me doesn’t
mean you don’t have the information,” Jared began. “Because if it
does—”
“No! No. Never fear.” Alfred licked his thin
lips. “I’ve the name you wish.”
“And proof of his betrayal?”
“Yes.” He pulled a lace handkerchief from his
waistcoat pocket and dabbed at his brow. “I’ve all the proof you’ll
need.”
“Then, may I suggest we get on with this? I
don’t wish to—”
“Papa! Oh, thank God!” Merideth Banistar
rushed into the library, heading straight for her father. She
stopped short when she spied Jared Blackstone. Instinctively she
turned on the stranger, who now stood looming over her. “What are
you doing here? What do you want?”
“Daughter.” Alfred’s voice was tight. “That’s
no way to speak to a guest. Apologize straight away.”
Merideth ignored his reproach. She’d run
through the storm, breathlessly racing into the house, only to have
to search through rooms until finding her father. Her heart pounded
and she fought back fear. “He came ashore,” Merideth said, keeping
her eyes on the stranger. She was certain it was the same man,
though he seemed even larger and more formidable at close range.
“He beached a small boat below the cliffs.” Merideth steeled
herself. “And he has a pistol.”
Jared stared down at the woman. He hadn’t
followed his first impulse and pulled the gun when she’d rushed
into the room. He couldn’t be sure this prearranged meeting with
Banistar wasn’t a trap. But the pistol, though it was primed, was
still hidden beneath his waistcoat, nestled in a pocket next to the
gold.