Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (14 page)

“Drew!”

“Ah-ah, love…”

Her head fell back as he nibbled down her throat. Delightful. Absolutely delightful. Although she didn’t want him to stop, she didn’t want him to hurt himself either. “Drew, stop it…”

“Never.”

He worked magic with his mouth, melted her resolve with his unrelenting kisses. She swayed in his arms, dizzy from the sensations reverberating through her. It was so wonderful the way he brought her skin to life. It was hard to breathe and she gripped him even tighter.

“Drew, this is insane,” she managed to whisper. “You are going to kill yourself.”

“I’ll die a happy man, then,” came his breathless reply, his lips scorching her flesh.

He brought a hand up to slide over the outer contour of her breast. She shivered, a soft sigh bubbling to her lips as the jolt rushed through her. Then, the rough edge of his bandage pressed into her and her head cleared at once.

“Drew, stop.” She broke the embrace by placing her hands flat against his chest and giving a gentle push. “Please, there will be plenty of time once you have healed.”

He stumbled, loosening his hold on her. “Perhaps you are right, Heather.”

“I am. Please, please go back to bed.”

His hand curved against her cheek. “As you wish.”

She eased an arm about his waist, guiding him back to the bed. “I do not wish to go through the last four days ever again. You have no idea how terrified I was that you were going to die.”

She helped him lie back down and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders. Perching on the edge of the bed, she touched his roughened cheek. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Don’t you understand that? I almost lost you once; I do not wish to lose you again.”

“I am not going anywhere, my lady,” he replied in a sleepy voice. “You have my word.”

“I am going to hold you to that,” she said as he drifted off to sleep once more. She leaned over until her lips brushed his ear. “I love you, Andrew McKenzie, and I will never let you go.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ten days after his wounding, Drew was able to rise from bed. They’d been at sea twenty-two days and their journey to America was drawing to a close.

Drew stepped onto the quarterdeck to find Heather already there, just gazing up at the moon, lost in thought. The sight brought back an incredible dream — wild and erotic — that he’d had while in the grips of the fever. At the end, she collapsed against him as she whispered, “I love you.”

The dream was so real, he would swear it had actually happened. But she gave no indication of feeling anything for him. At least she was no longer the meek miss she’d been. Since their argument over the subject, she didn’t kowtow to his every whim. That became clear when he tried to get out of bed without Mr. Mason’s approval and she refused to let him up. In his frustration, he snarled, then stared in surprised silence when she snarled right back at him.

There was too much space between them, so he left his post and crossed over to her. She jumped as he rested his forearms on the railing beside her. “A penny for your thoughts.”

She twisted back to look at him. “I’m just admiring how lovely the sky looks.”

“Nothing quite like a full moon on a clear night when you are at sea.”

“God’s taken the finest diamonds in existence and mounted them on the finest black velvet for all the world to enjoy.”

“Very poetically put, my lady.” He leaned back on one elbow against the rail. “Very poetic indeed.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I didn’t say that. I’ve never really paid much attention, I suppose.”

“We are almost there, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

Her forehead creased, her brows pulled low. She opened and closed her mouth several times, then blurted, “What happens then? When we reach America?”

He asked himself the same question several times since they left London, yet he still had no answer. “What do you expect to happen?”

“If I expected anything, would I ask?”

“Things will still be as they are, Heather. Nothing has changed.”

“Am I still to be your mistress?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be my mistress?” He winked at her, but she remained stoic.

“I think it’s a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say? Now that we are here and all. Besides, you’ve hardly gotten your money’s worth.”

So much for trying to lighten her mood. He turned back to the water, linking his fingers. “Do you think that’s what matters to me? What I care about? Money?”

“You should. It was a huge sum.”

“So all I could want is to make certain I recoup what I spent?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t say that. But what happens once we arrive? Where am I to go? To stay? What am I to do there? Am I to be hidden away, where you will make midnight calls for a secret rendezvous?”

“Have I ever said I was going to hide you away somewhere?”

“One doesn’t normally squire his mistress about town. Even I am not naïve enough to think this will be any different.”

“I don’t know what will happen. I’ve become spoiled by the way things have been. I do not have my own house and there is only a slim possibility of my family allowing you to stay with them. They wouldn’t be happy, since you’re without a chaperone.”

“Of course not. No decent family would allow a whore to sleep beneath their roof.” Hurt echoed in her voice, although she had to know he wasn’t being intentionally cruel.

“That isn’t what I meant, Heather.” He straightened his fingers, then let them ease back into position. “It’s no different than in London. Aren’t unmarried ladies expected to have someone watching over them, to make certain they aren’t compromised?”

“Yes, but — ”

“No, there is no
but
. It’s no more than that, and no less.”

He turned back to her, to find her staring at him with an incredulous expression. “But people will eventually wonder, They’ll wonder and talk and eventually, someone will find out. What happens then?”

“I don’t give a damn what happens then. I’ve never worried about what someone might think.” He pulled his hands apart and took one of hers. “I don’t give a damn where we met. I am glad we did. You’ve brought much needed change to my life.”

“Have I?”

He squeezed her hand. “You have, my lady. You have made my life so much brighter since walking in to it.”

Her frown lifted, brightening her face. “Is that so?”

She didn’t resist as he pulled her from the rail, into his arms. “You have no idea.”

“So tell me.”

He chuckled, giving her a squeeze. “You have nothing to worry about, Miss Morgan. When we reach Brunswick, we will take things as they come.”

He kissed the top of her head, then rested his chin against her hair, wishing he could give her the assurance she sought. But the truth was, he also wondered what would happen once they returned to Brunswick. No one could ever learn how he met her. The ramifications would be brutal. She would be shunned, an outcast, whether deserved or not. She would never be received in society and the gossip would be merciless.

He absently stroked her hair. He didn’t want to bring that kind of pain down onto her, but saw no way to avoid it. Letting her go wasn’t an option.

She pulled away. “What is on your mind?”

“We will figure something out when we get to Brunswick, Heather. I promise.”

He kissed the top of her head. “If you will excuse me, love, it’s time for me to return to my duties.”

“Of course.”

He left her to watch as New Jersey drew nearer. He went back to the wheel to guide the ship into the swirling gray-black waters of Raritan Bay and from there, to Brunswick’s harbor. The pink light of dawn streaked across the early morning sky, but there were plenty of other ships coming in with the tide. The last thing he wanted was a collision in the middle of the bay.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sunlight slanted across the cabin when Bobby returned with the hired carriages. Drew had been gone most of the day, taking care of the cargo. While he was gone, Heather did one last sweep of the cabin, stripping the bed with a sigh. She was going to miss being on board the
Triton
. It had become home to her.

She stood by the window, watching as the sun faded and twilight crept in. Her stomach fluttered when the door opened. Drew stood in the doorway.

He gave her a smile. “Ready to go, love?”

She nodded. “I am.”

He gestured toward the door with one hand, while offering her the other. “If you are ready then, it’s time to go, love.”

“I’m ready.” She slipped her hand through his arm, gave one last look around, and let him escort her from the cabin.

Beyond the ship’s berth rose a large, weathered warehouse whose side of the building bore the image of an eagle in full flight with an
E
and an
I
entwined on the bird’s belly.
Eagleton Imports.

Two other ships were moored alongside them, one being loaded, while men unloaded the other. Although the harbor was smaller than London’s, it was just as busy, with not nearly as many beggars and strumpets. There were some, of course, but Drew ignored them, just as he had in London. He kept a firm grip on her wrist as he plowed through the throngs of people toward the waiting carriages. He helped her in, climbed in to sit beside her and thumped on the ceiling to alert the driver that they were ready to move. The carriage rocked along the rough road from the harbor to the town of Brunswick.

Heather peered out the window as they rolled down River Road, Brunswick’s main street. Shops lined either side of the street, and despite the late hour, many still did brisk business, as people bustled about from place to place. One by one, lights began to flicker behind rippled panes of glass as evening rolled through town.

They traveled west, away from the center of town and her eyes went wide as the houses grew larger, the land more open and the trees thicker.

“Is this all Brunswick?” she asked, turning away from the window.

He nodded, leaning over to peer over her shoulder. “Quite a change from London, don’t you think?”

“It certainly is. We had to travel quite a distance to find estates such as these.”

“Oh, these aren’t estates. If you look closely, you can see smaller houses, nestled back from the road.”

She leaned closer to the window, mindful that they could hit a rut at any moment. Through the thickening dusk, she finally spotted cozy little houses tucked among the oak and maple trees. “Oh, yes. There they are.”

She didn’t respond, too absorbed in the views rolling by the window to really hear him. Two boys shrieked with laughter as they darted through a stand of white pines alongside a small, black-shuttered house. On the porch, two women sat, watching the boys as they chatted. It reminded her so much of home that an unexpected lump rose in her throat.

Towering oaks and slender silver maples lined the roadway, clumps of wildflowers gathered around their trunks like small children begging for attention. Their brilliant orange and red blossoms broke up the monotony of lush green fields for as far as she could see. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the coach’s interior, teasing her nose as she turned away from the window and sat back.

In the darkness, it was easy to let her imagination run away. She and Drew set up a home in that black-shuttered house. Dark-haired, dark-eyed children dashed about under their feet as they chased the blinking fireflies.

Wistfulness crept over her. Such a lovely scenario. If only it could happen in reality.

Drew leaned close again, interrupting her reverie. “Take a look now.”

She twisted again to take in a brick house with a large round stained glass window set above a double front door of dark gleaming wood. A small, white marble balcony reared out below the window.. Four white columns, two in the foreground and two in the background, flanked a large square portico. The house separated into two wings. Each wing was three stories high and lined with windows.

The front lawn sloped from the gracefully curved drive to the road. Beyond the drive, a lush expanse of green led to the house.

She turned to see him smiling at her. “Who lives there?”

“I do,” he replied. “Stonebridge is my family’s home.”

“How lovely.” Heather turned back to the window. She had no idea he’d been reared in luxury, and it was such a far cry from what she’d imagined. She knew his was a life of privilege, but she’d naively assumed American privilege would pale in comparison to the life of the British peerage.

“Not quite what you expected?”

“Well, no. Not really,” she confessed rather sheepishly.

His lips brushed her ear. “Not quite the beastly American after all, eh?”

Her breath caught at the unexpected tickle against her ear. “I suppose not.”

She hadn’t expected them to turn up the curving drive, and they didn’t. Instead, they rolled past and down a small hill. There, nestled in the trees, was a three-story white house almost as large as Stonebridge. “Who lives there?”

“Ah, that would be my brother, Garrett,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks as though he’s finally finished the place. About time, as he’s been working on it forever.”

The carriage rolled past the woods, down and around a bend. There, the trees gave way to fields, where she could just make out a small herd of deer gazing. Flashes of yellow light poked holes in the dusk as fireflies began their nightly courtship ritual and the music of crickets rose from the grass. All in all, it was a wonderful, tranquil moment.

Before long, another house emerged from the darkness. Judging by the numerous lights gleaming, the house was larger than Stonebridge, its wings stretching into the night. “Do you know who lives there?”

“Hunter Grove,” he explained, tapping a finger to the window. “Home of the infamous Darcy Penrose. Whatever you do, keep her distance from that one.”

“Why?” She was surprised to hear the venom in his voice.

“She is a bitch, Heather. A viper with the face of an angel. Trust me, you do not want to cross her path.”

“Very well. I will stay away from her.”

“Trust me,” he repeated. “She tried to ruin my sister. Almost succeeded. She has a soul as black as pitch. Gossip is her middle name and there is nothing too sacred for her to prattle on about.”

“She sounds lovely.” Her voice was soft as they rolled past that house.

The woods grew thicker still, the houses farther apart, until it seemed they’d left Brunswick. She turned to him. “Where are we going?”

“We are almost there,” he replied. “A friend of mine lives out here. This is where you will stay for now.”

Until when?
The question almost burned her lips, but she held it back. “A friend?”

He nodded. “Jeremy’s sister. He stays here when we are home. She’s a widow, so it’s perfectly acceptable for you to stay here for a while.”

Heather wasn’t so certain she liked the idea. “So you are going to simply push me off on a stranger?”

“Heather, this is the best solution I could think of. If I was to secure you a room at Bayside or WindSwept or any other inn, I would be recognized and rumors would burn like wildfire through town.”

She sighed. “The rumors.”

“The rumors.” He agreed with a nod. “So, we are going to tuck you away with Christina for now.”

“Tuck me away?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I am not so certain I like the sound of this.”

She fell silent as both carriages veered left into the drive. They drew up to a cozy, softly lit two-story house. It looked pleasant enough, with gleaming whitewashed shingles and lacy curtains wafting in the gentle breeze.

The carriage rocked to a halt and the driver pulled open the door. Drew climbed down, then helped Heather from the coach. Jeremy came up to them just as the front door opened and a tall, slender woman appeared onto the porch.

Heather found it hard to believe this woman was Jeremy’s sister. He was so dark, and she had white-blonde hair. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue — so pale they were almost clear — but they were warm and friendly as she smiled.

“Jeremy!” She laughed, rushing to her brother and throwing her arms about his neck. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me!”

“As you can see, they aren’t,” Jeremy squeezed her and set her back on her feet. He turned to Drew and Heather. “Of course, you remember Drew, don’t you?”

Her gaze flicked up to Drew and she shook her head. “As if anyone could forget this scamp,” she replied, hugging him. “Welcome home, wanderer.”

Drew chuckled. “I only hope I receive so warm a welcome at Stonebridge.” He broke free from her embrace to join Heather again. “Heather, this is Jeremy’s sister, Christina Anderson. Christina, I’d like to introduce you to Heather Morgan.”

Christina turned those crystal blue eyes to Heather and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Morgan.”

“And a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Anderson.”

“Oh, please, call me Christina,” she replied warmly.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Tina, I need to ask a favor.”

“What might that be, Jeremy?”

“Well, would you be so kind as to put Heather up for a few weeks?”

Christina’s brow furrowed as she looked back at Heather. “Why?”

Drew cleared his throat. “Well, I cannot bring her to Stonebridge, and — ”

Her smile was all-knowing, showing off pearly little teeth. “I understand. Of course you are welcome to stay here, Miss Morgan.”

Heat stung Heather’s cheeks. She twisted a small fold of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger as Christina gave her a knowing look. “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me,” Christina replied, giving Drew a conspiratorial smile. “Everyone in Brunswick knows what a rake this one is.”

Heather glanced up at Drew, who now looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Rake?”

He combed his fingers through his hair. “So, shall we get you settled?”

She swallowed her sigh as he turned to help Jeremy with the trunks. Now she was on his home territory and she was learning more about him than she really wished to. A rake? How could she be surprised? He was young, handsome, wealthy and unmarried. There was no reason why he had to refrain from dallying with as many ladies as he wished.

But had that changed, or would he return to his ways now that they were in Brunswick?

She kept her troubling thoughts to herself as she followed Christina into the small house. It was a bit cooler than outside, but not by much. However, what struck her was the amount of clutter in the parlor. There was not a whit of empty space. Oil lamps flickered on tables, lace doilies draped over the arms and backs of the furniture, and assorted bric-a-brac littered the tables, mantelpiece and shelving, creating a suffocating atmosphere. Heather didn’t know if she would ever feel comfortable amongst the neatly ordered disorder.

Christina smiled. “Come along, Miss Morgan. I will show you to your room.” She flashed her smile at Drew. “You might wish to follow. So you know where to find her.”

He had the good grace to flush at that. “You know me too well, Christina.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “I ought to.”

A knot formed in the pit of Heather’s stomach. Christina teased him the way only a former lover would. She had no inkling how uncomfortable it would be, being in the presence of a woman who knew Drew’s body with the same intimacy as she herself did.

She remained silent as she followed them up the short, narrow flight of steps. Christine and Drew fit together so well, as she was tall and slender. Her pale coloring complemented Drew’s dark good looks perfectly. Compared to her, Heather felt tiny and insignificant. Drew would not have to worry about a crick in either his back or his neck with a woman like Christina. Did he prefer that over her own over her diminutive stature? Would it matter, now that he had the choice?

Christina led them down a short hallway, stopping at a door at the end. “Here we are. I think this shall suffice.”

Heather peered into the room. It was small, but like the rest of the house, cozy. A vanity, a settee, a low chest of drawers and a small, narrow bed were crammed into the room. Christina obviously felt the need to fill every bit of space with knickknacks.

This room is going to keep me awake at night.

She couldn’t very well say that, so she smiled. “It’s lovely, Christina. Thank you.”

Christina set her candle on the vanity. “It’s no trouble. Shall I leave you to get settled?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Drew replied.

“Now for you, Drew, anything.” She gave him another playful nudge as she moved back toward the steps. “I’ll prepare some tea.”

“Thank you.” Heather stepped into the room and shook her head. “There is so much — so much — ” She couldn’t quite find the best word to describe the mess about her.