The Pirate's Desire (24 page)

“No. But…”

“Would you like to?”

In the semi-darkness, a blush darkened his face. “Lady Lucinda, I do not think…”

“We’ve known each other all of our lives, Timothy. Right?”

“Yes…”

“And we can trust one another.”

“I thought so, but…”

“Timothy! All my life my friends have giggled about…
kissing,
” she said in a low voice. “I want to know what all the excitement is about. Dancing is fun, but over and over again, it is boring. I want to know if that’s all there is to romance. If that’s all there is between a man and a woman. Don’t you?”

He hesitated, and she could tell he struggled to choose the right thing.

“Just one kiss,” she begged. “And only for a second, if that’s all you want. I just have to know.”

“One?” Uncertainty roughened his voice.

“One. And please don’t think I have a thing for you, Timothy, because I don’t. You’re safe. That’s why I chose you.” And almost like a brother, but she didn’t say that, for fear of offending him.

“One kiss, and we’ll forget it ever happened?”

“Yes! Exactly.”

Still, he hesitated a moment more. “We shouldn’t. But maybe just once won’t hurt.”

“Good!” Excitement and apprehension prickled through her nerves. She swiped perspiring palms across her dress and took a hesitant step toward him, at the same instant he took one toward her. She giggled, and he chuckled nervously. He looked down at her, as if gathering the courage for what he must do.

Perhaps she should make the first move, since she was the older woman. Lucinda tilted her chin and pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure if this was how it was done, but it seemed as good a start as any.

Riel saw
Lucy
head out to the garden on young Timothy Fenwick’s arm. Depositing his dance partner into the arms of the next on her list, Riel slipped outdoors.

Lucy’s bright yellow skirt flashed to his left, and he followed quietly. Did he want to catch them in the act?

The act of doing what? Lucy had shown no interest in that young pup.

At last he spotted them, through the branches of a low tree. Lucy and Timothy stood toe to toe. Shock swept through Riel. His heart began to pound in slow, heavy beats in his chest. Timothy stooped toward Lucy and awkwardly bumped her nose.

Riel couldn’t seem to move, but his hands clenched into fists.

Another clumsy adjustment, and then Timothy kissed Lucy.

Hot emotion seared Riel. Jealousy. He couldn’t deny it. A fist closed around his heart. How dare that young villain? He’d teach him a lesson, and box his ears, too!

Timothy jerked back, his face flushed, and clearly embarrassed. Disappointment flickered across Lucy’s face.

“Perhaps…perhaps I’d best be going,” Timothy said, and bolted.

Tense with possessive rage, Riel watched him go, trying to make sense of what he’d just seen. And then the truth hit him.

He relaxed. Timothy wasn’t the aggressor. Lucy was. Why didn’t that surprise him?

Lucy had snared the boy in one of her impulsive schemes.

Why? Did she long for excitement? Riel smiled then, a thin one, and his heart kicked faster in a grim sort of anticipation. If she did, he’d be glad to provide it. In fact, an equally impulsive take-down might be just what Lucy itched for.

* * * * *

Lucinda felt disappointed as she watched Timothy flee. Her first kiss. It had felt moist and tepid. What was exciting about that? Especially after risking her reputation to sneak into the garden to do it.

“Was it worth it?” Riel spoke behind her.

Shocked, she spun. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Watching over you is my job.”

“Well, even though it is none of your business, the kiss was quite…nice.”

Riel smiled, and his teeth gleamed white as he moved out of the shadows. “Nice. I hear no conviction in your words, Lucy.”

“It was perfectly pleasant,” she insisted. Or, it would have been if one enjoyed kissing a warm wash cloth. Surreptitiously, she wiped her lips with the side of her hand, pretending to yawn.

“So, young Timothy failed to impress you.” Something intensely dark and dangerous simmered in his black eyes, belying his calm words.

“Young? His ability to kiss has nothing to do with being young. It was perfectly adequate.”

“Adequate. I would feel I’d failed, if a woman found my kisses adequate.”

Lucinda rolled her eyes to the heavens. “What do you know of love?”

“Love? You are in love with young Timothy?”

“What if I am? What do you know about that finer emotion? I’ve noticed you never dance with the same woman twice. And who knows how many affairs you’ve had in the past.”

“Perhaps I have not found the right woman.”

“Keep searching,” she mocked. “And then maybe all of your practice kisses might do you some good!”

Riel moved closer; a large presence in the moonlight. “Was that a practice kiss with young Timothy, Lucy? An experiment?”

Lucinda struggled to deny it, but would not lie. “What if it was?” she said at last.

“So, you plan to sneak out into the garden with other men, and compare their kisses.”

“No!” she gasped, shocked, despite herself. “I’m not a hussy, Riel. How dare you think that? Not that it’s any of your business, but Timothy was my first kiss.”

He moved closer, and his face fell into the shadows. “Your first kiss. Was it all you had hoped?”

Lucinda looked away, wishing he would leave her alone. It made her feel uncomfortable, how close he was. A raw, palpably dangerous emotion radiated from him. Butterflies danced in her stomach. “It was not quite what I expected,” she admitted. “Perhaps I should take a page from your book and find another person to kiss, so I can compare.”

“Perhaps a man of experience.” Surprisingly, he did not object to her outlandish suggestion.

She stared at him. “You agree I should find another man? An…an experienced man and…and compare his kisses to Timothy?”

“I would have to approve the man. I must be sure you are safe.”

“Why don’t you just lurk in the garden and spy on us?”

He ignored this. “Do you agree, then, to this course of action?”

Lucinda felt acute trepidation. “Well, I…”

“Come with me. Look through the window. We will find the perfect man for your experiment.” Hand cupping her elbow, he urged her to a floor-to-ceiling window which afforded a perfect view of the swirling, dancing aristocrats inside. Lucinda felt very
aware of his
warm, calloused palm against her skin. Her heart beat faster when she realized how close he stood beside her. The fine cloth of his broadcloth jacket whispered against her arm, which he still hadn’t released.

His deep voice rumbled above her, “I see several of whom I would approve. What about Colonel Farley?”

Forcing her thoughts from his touch, Lucinda gasped out a laugh when she spotted portly Colonel Farley dancing by with the widow O’Hare. He must be sixty, if a day, and he still sported a full head of whitish yellow hair, including long, bushy sideburns. He pranced gaily from one foot to another, obviously enjoying himself, while poor Mrs. O’Hare hopped faster, trying to save her toes from being smashed.

“No, Riel. I will
not
kiss Colonel Farley.”

“Then let’s find you another eligible bachelor. Hmm. How about the Marquis of Silverlake?”

Lucinda giggled. “Even worse!” The Marquis reminded her of a cartoon caricature—tall and skinny with a beaky nose and receding black hair. Odd, to boot, if tales could be believed.

“I see you are discerning, after all.”

“Of course I am!” She felt insulted. “It must be someone nearer my own age. And nice looking would be a plus. What about Jonathon? He’s six years older than me and I’m quite sure he’s experienced. I’m sure he would be happy…”

“Not Jonathon.” Riel’s voice sounded harsh.

She glanced at him, surprised. “Why not? He and I are friends, and…”

“He has too much experience.”

“But isn’t that the point?”

“Jonathon is a rake.”

“He is not!”

“Lucy,” he said more gently. “I must approve of the man, or the experiment is off.”

“But you are only choosing old men! I would sooner kiss a fish.”

“A man nearer to you in age, then, and safe.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But experienced.”

“I can think of one. Is ten years too much of an age difference?”

“No.” Lucinda’s heart beat faster. That was the span between herself and Riel. “No…that would be fine.”

“You agree to kiss this man, no matter who he is?” He drew her back into the shadows, away from the window.

“As long as he doesn’t have buck teeth, or smell like a toad.”

“You are sure?” He tipped her chin up with his knuckles.

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Who is he?”

“Me.”

Her heart charged faster. “I will not kiss you!” she scoffed, jerking free of his touch. “You…you’re my guardian and you annoy me no end. Not to mention,” she hastily added, “it would be inappropriate.”

“You have my offer. It is for one time only. How else can you conclude your experiment?”

“I…I don’t know,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed? She was crazy to even consider it! But hadn’t she wondered what his kiss would feel like? And perhaps he was right. Maybe he was the perfect choice. Older, but not too old. Experienced, but not a rake. She knew she could trust him, if nothing else.

Feeling as though she teetered on the edge of a cliff, she suddenly made up her mind. “Very well, then. Kiss me.”

“You are sure?” he asked again.

No, she wasn’t sure. Not at all. But she wanted him to. “Yes,” she said faintly.

One broad hand cupped the side of her jaw, and his thumb gently stroked the skin of her cheek. Lucinda’s mouth went dry as her gaze tangled with his dark one. Slowly, he came closer and her lips tingled in anticipation. His breath fanned those delicate nerve endings for an impossibly long moment, then, whisper soft, his firm lips touched hers.

Lucinda’s heart jerked at the warm contact. She heard a sweet roaring in her ears and then his mouth moved over hers.

Timothy hadn’t done this, she thought incoherently. Moments…or perhaps long minutes later…she felt a gentle nip on her bottom lip. When her lips parted in a soft gasp, he took the kiss far deeper than she’d ever believed possible. Lucinda whimpered at the velvet sensations, and her knees went weak. More sweet, intense moments passed as Riel demanded more, and she gave what he desired. Mindlessly, she gripped his shoulders for support. Fire shot through her as he claimed these liberties. Her head spun and she sensed, just out of reach, a place of stars and colors and light that only he could take her. If only she surrendered to him.

She
wanted
to surrender to him.

But she couldn’t. Hadn’t she fought all of these years not to surrender to his power over her?

But she wanted…

He put her from him, and bewildered, she stared up at him. Riel’s dark eyes looked as black as midnight, and his breaths sounded harsh. “Was that better than Timothy?” he said roughly.

Lucinda struggled to remember who Timothy was. “It…it was longer,” she managed to say tartly, at last.

Riel chuckled then, deep in his chest. “Better than adequate?”

“If you are waiting for praise, you will not receive it. Somehow, Mr. Montclair, I suspect you have far more experience turning girls’ heads than you have let on.”

“Perhaps it is the woman who has turned my head.”

Confused, and heart fluttering, she eyed him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind, Lucy. You have concluded your experiment. I trust I will not find you kissing young men in the garden again.”

She would certainly not be skulking in the garden with
him
again. Nor would she kiss him again! She had just discovered that he possessed the power to disturb her far more deeply than she’d ever dreamed possible. Perhaps it would have been prudent never to find out.

She inclined her head. “I have concluded my experiment. You may rest at your ease.”

He smiled. “Never do I rest at my ease with you, Lucy.”

If Lucinda had wanted
to find excitement, she had found it; in the arms of Riel Montclair.

Lucinda gave Riel a wide berth after their improper, sizzling kiss. Every time she saw him now, her heart bumped and skittered, and all she could think about was his warm lips on hers.

It was most improper…but she had agreed to it! And now she must live with the consequences, which were alarming. She felt more excruciatingly aware of him now than ever before. Each time she brushed by him on the stair, and even worse, each dance in his arms, was exquisite torture. Riel continued to ask for her last dance, and she irrationally continued to give it to him. More balls, tea parties, fêtes and soirées passed by as May melted into June.

At the same time, Sophie’s health began to slip. Although the glorious days were bright and sunny, her cough grew no better. The doctor possessed no words of encouragement. When Lucinda asked what could be wrong, he raised his hands and shook his head. Lucinda tried not to set much store by his obviously gloomy outlook. Sophie had never put much stock in a doctor’s opinions. Always she’d confounded their dreariest predictions.

But now she didn’t. Day and night, Sophie sat propped up so she could breathe, and she never left her bed. Although her feet were covered, Lucinda saw they were more swollen than ever, and Sophie’s racking cough kept her awake late into the night. It hurt Lucinda, listening to those painful coughs and gasps for air and she often cried herself to sleep. During the day, she spent every minute she could with Sophie, either talking with her, or reading from the Psalms in the Bible, which Sophie had requested.

If that wasn’t enough, the Silk Scarf Rapist struck again in early June. London had been lulled into a false sense of security, since the rapist had not struck for an entire year. Newspapers screamed that the vile criminal had abducted and raped another debutant, and abandoned her to wander the dark streets of London alone, hands tied behind her back, and blindfolded with a silk scarf.

Worse, Lucinda was acquainted with Lady Annabelle, the victim. Horror filled her heart, and she could not seem to stop imagining what had happened to the other girl. How terrified she must have felt, and how alone.

The morning after the crime, Riel stopped Lucinda in the hall.

“You heard what happened.”

“Of course.” The news had broken last night, and this morning Lucinda felt like a wreck after listening to Sophie cough all night. Plus, terror had crawled through her, thinking of poor Lady Annabelle. She’d been abducted in the park. No one had seen her vanish, and she’d been gone for ten long hours. “No one is safe anymore.”

“I am glad you understand that.” The harsh lines of Riel’s face softened as he looked at her. “Then you will agree to go nowhere alone. Everywhere you go, I will be with you.”

“I never go anywhere alone now,” she felt it necessary to point out.

“Lucy.”

“Fine. I will accept your close presence wherever I go.” Then she blushed a little. What was she saying,
close
presence?

“And no more escapes into the garden.”

Now her cheeks burned. “I learned my lesson last time, believe me.”

She could not read his expression. “So, you agree?”

Lucinda crossed her arms. “Yes. For once I will meekly follow your every dictate. You may rest at your ease, Mr. Montclair.”

Now he did smile. He leaned forward and his lips brushed across hers in the briefest of caresses, shocking her. “Thank you, Lucy.”

Heart racing, she watched him stride down the hall. She crossed her arms tighter against herself. However, she still felt the warm imprint of his lips upon hers, and the pleasure of it stole her breath. She liked his touch and his kisses entirely too much. She should have slapped him, of course. Except he’d surely meant the kiss as nothing more than a chaste caress. She knew this, but her heart irrationally longed for it to mean something more. She inhaled deeply, for the faint scent that was uniquely Riel lingered.

Her guardian was a good, honorable man. Even gentle and kind, too, when it suited him.

These involuntary admissions made her bite her lip as she watched him disappear into the kitchen. An insane part of her wanted to run after him, to take his arm and talk to him…about anything. She wanted to spend more time with him. For they spoke little in the townhouse anymore—almost as if he’d been trying to avoid her during these past few weeks, as well.

Had she lost all good sense?

Lucinda turned on her heel and headed upstairs. Riel was a dangerous pirate, she told herself, trying to drive some logic into her brain. A man like him did not belong in her life. Didn’t she feel certain he still concealed a dark, deadly secret?

Lucinda didn’t want to believe that anymore. She didn’t want to believe it at all.

* * * * *

Riel let himself into Sophie’s room a few minutes later, cursing himself for kissing Lucy again. He’d tried to avoid her these past few weeks, and just now, when she’d agreed to follow his directions so he could keep her safe, he’d felt so grateful that he’d kissed her.

No. That wasn’t entirely true. He’d kissed her because he’d wanted to. He’d taken the flimsy excuse of a chaste, approving kiss and run with it. At least this time he’d had the sense to end it before taking it too far.

“Riel.” Sophie’s raspy whisper drew his attention to his aunt, who sat propped up against the pillows. Her nightgown looked fresh and clean, and decorated with little sprigs of bright blue embroidery, but the crisp garment couldn’t improve the gray cast to her skin, nor draw attention away from her sunken cheeks. Her eyelids slid halfway closed.

“Auntie.” He took a seat beside her and took her frail hand in his. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t…waste…breath. What is wrong…with you…and Lucinda?” She exhaled Lucy’s name in a long slur.

Riel tightened his grip. “We are fine.”

“Riel.” Sophie’s eyes widened into a glare and then relaxed again. “Tell…truth.”

“I kissed her, Auntie. Twice.” Riel stood and paced. Her silence meant she wanted to hear more, so he told her. All of it.

To his surprise, a smile ghosted Sophie’s lips, and a faint sparkle brightened her eyes. “That’s…wonderful.”

“No, it’s not, Auntie,” he said grimly. “I’m not fit for any woman. Least of all Lucy.”

Sophie frowned gently. “Have…you still…not forgiven…self, Riel?”

Riel gripped the back of his neck with one tense hand. “How can I? A man is dead because of me.”

“It’s…more than that.” Sophie sucked in a long breath. “Tell me.”

Sophie had neither the time nor energy for him to dissemble, and Riel didn’t want to. He needed to confide in someone. His feelings were eating him alive. Before he could speak, Sophie fluttered her fingers. “Sit…Make me tired…watching you.”

Riel did as she asked, and again enfolded his great-aunt’s hand in his. He gently stroked the back.

“I’m afraid, Auntie. I’m afraid that someday I will do it again.” At last, he spoke his deepest fear. “That I’ll lose my temper and kill someone in a rage.”

Shock flickered across Sophie’s features. “Never! Was special…circumstance.” She coughed and choked and gasped.

Riel’s heart thundered with heavy, apprehensive beats until she quieted. Then he continued the conversation, as he knew she wished. “No, Auntie. I lost control. Rage consumed me. It might again.”

Sophie’s hand gripped his. “Has it…since then?”

“Never.”

Sophie squeezed his hand. “And…it won’t…again. Forgive self…Riel.”

Riel dipped his head and gazed at the woven rug on the floor, not wanting even Sophie to see the film of moisture covering his eyes. “I can’t.”

“You’ve…asked God…to forgive you.” Sophie gasped for breath for a moment, and determinedly pressed on. “Is your…judgment…of yourself…more right than his?”

“No, but…”

“God has forgiven you. You…must, too.” Sophie closed her eyes, and struggled to catch her breath.

Riel thought about what she’d said. It made sense, but it was difficult for him to accept. At last, he said, “I will try, Auntie. But I’ll never be good enough for Lucy. You see only the good in me. She sees the worst.”

Sophie’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re a foolish…boy.” She drew a long breath, and disturbingly, a faint rattle sighed through it. “Do you…love her?”

“No!” The denial came deeply and vehemently. He abruptly stood and paced again. “I cannot, and I will not be that foolish, Aunt Sophie. No future is possible for Lucy and me. You have a gentle, understanding heart, but if Lucy found out the truth she would hate me. And she’d look at me with rightful contempt.”

Sophie’s jaw set in a stubborn line.

Riel kissed her forehead. “Do not look at me like that. We both know I’m not fit to be her husband.”

Tears glistened in Sophie’s eyes, and she gripped his hand with a shadow of her old strength. “Forgive self, Riel. Life…too short…for regrets.”

Riel would regret forever that one black day thirteen years ago. It had delineated his life thus far, and would continue to tarnish his future. He was too much of a realist to pretend otherwise.

But when Sophie looked at him, her old eyes bright with tears, a part of him softened. “I’ll try,” he said, with another gentle kiss on her brow.

But how? How could he forgive himself? He could never accept what he had done. Even worse, what if he snapped, and did it again? He could never rest at his ease or get close to anyone—especially Lucy—as long as that possibility remained in his black heart.