Stormswept (18 page)

But his black eyes were what truly showed the years, for they were no longer merry. They were solemn and unsmiling. And they remained fixed on her with an unnerving intensity.

“May I come in?” he rasped.

“Yes, of course.” She stood aside to let him pass. She shut the door and slumped against it, needing something to hold her up. The shock to her heart was so great, she didn’t know if she could absorb it. Morgan was here, alive and standing before her. But he was obviously not happy to be here.

Somehow she contained her tumultuous emotions, so that the words that sprang to her lips showed none of her feelings. “Would you like some tea?”

He turned from surveying her cottage to fix her with that same icy gaze. “You see your ‘true love’ after six years and all you can do is offer him tea?”

The sarcasm he put into the words “true love” wounded her. He’d been gone for years without a single letter, and now he expected everything to be exactly as it had been
before? She swallowed her hurt, smoothing her expression into one of nonchalance. “To be honest, after all this time hearing nothing from my ‘true love,’ I’d assumed I didn’t have one anymore.”

Her coldness seemed to rouse him from his aloofness. He came toward her, fists clenched. “I sent a letter to Northcliffe Hall. It was returned with the words ‘No longer at this address’ written across it. I didn’t know where else to look.”

“Obviously you found me tonight.”

His eyes glittered. “Yes. I went to Northcliffe Hall, and they told me of your whereabouts. And of the nice cottage that your lover, the new Lord Northcliffe, bought for you.”

As his contempt washed over her, righteous anger surged. How dared he accuse her! Thanks to his dangerous politics, he’d left her pregnant with no way of supporting herself, no possible future. Yet he’d expected her to wait for him? Forever?

Dragging in a bracing breath, she met his gaze. “It took you a very long time to come searching for me. I know you must have served in the navy for a while.” She trailed her gaze over his rich attire. “But obviously you went on to greater success. I suppose making a fortune in some far-off country kept you too busy to return.” She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the fireplace.

But he caught her arm. “What kept me busy was finding a way to return without being hanged for desertion! ”

All the stored-up resentment of six years exploded in her. “If you hadn’t gotten yourself involved with those damned
Sons of Wales, you wouldn’t have had to worry about it! If you hadn’t printed those wretched pamphlets—”

“And if you hadn’t told Northcliffe about them! ”

“What the devil do you mean?”

He thrust her away, disgust contorting his face. “I didn’t believe him when he said you’d betrayed me.” His sweeping gesture encompassed the cottage. “But I talked to the servants and discovered how long you’ve been here. Ever since I left, you’ve lived here as his mistress.” He shook his head. “You were obviously willing to go to any extent to stay out of poverty, weren’t you?”

She gaped at him. “What did Darcy tell you? Did you see him tonight?”

“No. If I had, he’d be dead for what he did to me.” He drew in a ragged breath. “For what he and you did together.”

Her heart’s pace slowed to a crawl. “A pox upon’t, what did he do? What is it you think
I
did?”

His eyes narrowed. “You know he had me impressed.”

She staggered back, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her up. Somehow she found a chair and dropped into it. She shook her head mindlessly. “Darcy? Are you sure?”

Morgan clenched his fists. “Quite sure. I’ll never forget how he gloated about how you’d confirmed that I was the one who’d printed those pamphlets. How you’d done it to keep from losing your damned position.”

She jerked up straight in her seat. “I never told him that! I wouldn’t have! How could you even believe it?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re sitting here as his mistress, obviously snug as a cockle in the cottage he paid for! ” His
voice rose to a shout. “How stupid do you think I am? You expect me to believe you had no part in it?”

“Yes, I do! ” Jumping from her chair, she prepared to give him a thorough set-down, but a childish voice coming from the stairs stopped her. She turned to find Edgar standing on the bottom step, rubbing his eyes.

“Mother, why are you shouting?” He eyed Morgan with curiosity. But when Morgan gave him a hard stare, he fidgeted. “Good evening,” he said bravely, then destroyed the effect of his manly speech by sticking his thumb in his mouth.

Edgar only sucked his thumb when he was frightened. She said quietly, “Go back to bed, Edgar. Everything’s all right, and we’ll try to be more quiet.”

“Wait.” Morgan looked Edgar over. When her son stared at him with a trace of fear, Morgan softened his expression and went down on one knee. “Good evening to you, my boy.”

With mixed emotions, she watched Morgan examine Edgar’s features. She wasn’t sure she wanted Morgan to know he had a son—not after what he’d accused her of. Even if he was telling the truth and Darcy had spoken such lies about her, how could Morgan have believed them?

“Your name is Edgar?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Edgar’s eyes were round as saucers as he stared at the big stranger.

A faint smile touched Morgan’s lips. “You needn’t call me ‘my lord.’ ”

Taking his thumb out of his mouth, Edgar cocked his head to one side. “But I call Uncle Darcy ‘my lord.’ ”

Morgan’s smile faded. “That’s because . . . ‘Uncle’ Darcy is a lord. I’m not.”

“What should I call you then?”

“ ‘Sir’ would do nicely, I suppose.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve seen your mother, and now I’ve met you, but where is your father?”

Lettice cursed under her breath. Must he torment poor Edgar like this? She stepped forward to intercede, but Morgan gave her a hard glance that froze her.

Edgar shifted from foot to foot and stared down at the steps. “I haven’t a father, sir.” He screwed up his face into a frown. “Other children do, I know. Is it odd that I have no father? I mean, Mother says Uncle Darcy is as good as a father.”

Morgan visibly tensed. “And do you like Uncle Darcy?”

Edgar’s face brightened. “Oh yes, very much. He brings me lovely presents. And he likes to play quoits. Do you like to play quoits?”

“Of course.”

Lettice could stand it no more. “Edgar, it’s time for you to go back to bed. It’s very late.”

Morgan stayed the child with one hand. “Only one more question, and then you must do as your mother says.” His voice shook. “How old are you?”

Lettice closed her eyes and sighed.

“I’m five. My birthday was this past May Day. We always have a jolly time. I’ll be six years old next May Day, and a very big boy.”

Morgan remained silent an endless moment. She could almost see him figuring the dates.

After scrutinizing Morgan carefully, Edgar blurted out, “Would you like to come to my birthday party?”

Morgan stood up and patted Edgar on the head, but the pat turned into a caress before he drew back his hand. “I should love to.”

Lettice bit her lip to keep from crying. “Go to bed, Edgar,” she choked out, and this time the boy obeyed.

As soon as they heard the upstairs door shut, Morgan whirled on her, eyes alight. “Does Northcliffe know that Edgar is my son?”

She turned away, trying to hide the emotions she knew must be blazing in her face. “Who said that Edgar is your son?”

“Don’t lie to me. I can look in his face and tell he’s my child.”

Her only answer was a barely stifled sob.

Coming up behind her, he made her face him. “Does Northcliffe know?”

“No! Why in God’s name do you think I’m here? Why do you think I’ve been with him all this time?”

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“When the press gang took you,” she whispered, “I had just realized I was pregnant. And on that same day, the old earl dismissed me without a reference for ‘consorting with radicals’ and not properly watching out for Lady Juliana.” Her voice rose. “I was with child, and without a position or family, and you were nowhere to be found! ”

She planted her hands on her hips. “So when Darcy asked me to be his mistress, what do you think I said? ‘No, my lord, I’d rather take my chances that some fool would
hire a pregnant woman’? ‘No, my lord, I prefer to wait endlessly for my lover while my child and I starve’?”

Rage made her voice shake. “What would you have had me do, Morgan? What grand plan had you made for me, in case you were punished for your illegal activities?”

He stared at her, clearly stunned. “The old earl dismissed you? But Darcy said you betrayed me in order to keep your position! ”

“I didn’t betray you. I never would have. But my position was precarious, and my association with you was all it took to have me lose it! ”

The color drained from his face. “Good Christ, I never dreamed . . . You didn’t tell me you were pregnant . . . I didn’t know . . .”

“I had only just found out myself. But even if you’d known, would you have stopped what you were doing?”

Pacing the room, he muttered, “I don’t know . . . perhaps . . .”

“And another thing,” she bit out. “Why in God’s name would I have betrayed you to Darcy, when I was carrying your child? I’d have been a fool to endanger my child’s father! ”

Morgan flinched, then turned to stare at her, the truth dawning on him. “So Northcliffe lied. You had nothing to do with the impressment.”

“I told you, I knew nothing of it! ”

Remorse shone in Morgan’s eyes. “Devil take it, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love. I . . . I didn’t believe him at first. I truly didn’t.” He paused. “But you don’t know what hell Rhys and I went through. Our captain flogged his men
at the slightest provocation. Rhys suffered through many floggings. Fortunately, I had only a flogging or two once the captain discovered I was a good cook. That was my salvation.”

She stared at him wide-eyed. He’d suffered. She could see it in his eyes. “I’ve heard life on a man-of-war is horrible.”

“Aye,” he clipped out. “And after a while you start to hate anyone and anything that put you there.”

Her anger had dimmed, but the hurt burned even brighter. “Even your ‘true love’?”

He closed his eyes against the accusation in her voice. “Especially your true love, if you think she betrayed you. Please forgive me for doubting you. I see how wrong I was.” Then his eyes shot open, and his jaw tightened. “But Northcliffe is also responsible for keeping us apart. He told me that you’d betrayed me.”

She thought of the Darcy she knew, the one who could be infinitely kind. “I don’t understand it. He has always treated me well.”

“Don’t you see?” Morgan stepped forward. “He’d probably been making plans to steal you from me for a long time. That’s why he got rid of me.”

She couldn’t deny the logic of his words. Darcy had never hidden his desire for her. And he’d been right there, ready to make her his mistress after the earl had dismissed her. What she’d construed as an act of kindness had been plotted out from the beginning.

“He was obviously in love with you,” Morgan said tersely, “so much in love he’d have done anything to get you.”

A tear fell onto her cheek. “He has always said he loves me to desperation. It frightens me sometimes, how much.”

Morgan clasped her shoulders. “The question is, are you in love with him?”

She averted her face. “That hardly matters. He’s been so kind—”

“Taking away your sweetheart, the father of your son? Is that ‘kind’?”

She lifted her tearstained face to his. “I have trouble thinking of him that way. You say he did this terrible thing, but I’ve never seen that side of him.”

He obviously didn’t like that answer. “If you won’t tell me what you feel for him, can you tell me what you feel for me, after all these years?”

The question shouldn’t have taken her by surprise, but it did. And even more surprising was her inability to form a coherent answer. “I honestly don’t know.”

His hands tightened on her. “I think you do. I think you’re merely afraid to answer. Darcy has made a comfortable place for you here, and your misguided sense of loyalty makes you think you owe him for that. But I’m not talking about loyalty or kindness. I’m talking about love.”

She wanted to hide her raw emotions, but he caught her chin and made her look at him.

“When you opened that door tonight,” he persisted, “in that first second when you saw me, there was joy in your face. Was it born of love? That’s all I need to know.”

She closed her eyes, hoping to avoid the question until she could ponder her answer. Did she dare tell him the
truth? And if she did, what would that mean . . . for her . . . for Edgar . . . for Darcy?

He gave her no time to think. Before she could free herself, she felt his lips on hers, gentle, soft, and every bit as sweet as she remembered.

He still smelled of bay rum, and his mouth still covered hers with blatant possessiveness. She started to draw back, but he clutched her head, holding her immobile as he moved his lips over hers, coaxing them apart until she opened to him, letting him plunge his tongue into her mouth.

His kiss was utterly sensual and as exciting as a kiss ought to be. It seemed to go on forever. When he finally pulled back, her breath came hard and fast, and she was even more confused. How could he still make her blood sing, even after all the time she’d spent with Darcy?

He stared at her, triumph in his eyes. “You do still love me. No matter what you say, I know it. I feel it in my bones.”

She hid her face in his shirt, feeling both shame and joy at his words.

“Come with me tonight, Lettice,” he whispered against her hair. “Let me make you my wife. Let me care for you . . . and our son.”

It took every ounce of her will to resist the plea in his voice, the tempting comfort of his arms. But she couldn’t simply wrench Edgar away from his home without giving it careful thought. Nor could she pay Darcy back with such treachery after he’d cared for her. She owed him a chance to explain.

“I need some time, Morgan. I need to speak to Darcy—”