To Save a Fallen Angel (The Fallen Angels series Book 2)

by Julianna Hughes

  “Are you aiming to fire a warnin’ shot when we make port?”

  A tremor of awareness ran down his spine and hit his groin. Turning he found Peggy standing in the doorway, gazing at him with her head cocked enticingly to the side. There had been no anger in her voice, just a bit of caution.

  “No,” he replied and then smiled at her. “Edgar told me about them, and I was just being curious.”

  She returned his smile and stepped into the room. After a quick glance over her shoulder she closed the door. Luc saw her take a deep breath, then she turned toward him and plastered what he now called her ‘Lady Margaret’ smile on her face. The smile of a seductress.

  “Did Mr. Morton explain why you are being restricted to your cabin?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, yer cabin? Then, aye, Edgar told me we’ve changed course for Portugal.”

  “And you understand why I had you restricted to my cabin?” she asked.

  He smiled back. “I was with Wellington in 1811 when we wrestled Portugal from the French. So aye, I understand why you might not want me talkin’ to the English navy about why an English ship is being manned by pirates.”

  She laughed lightly. Her eyes fairly sparkled in the sunlight coming through the large windows behind him. “Aye, we need to put in and properly repair our mast. There’s a shipwright we’ve used before, so we should be able to replace the mast with no trouble.”

  Luc could barely concentrate on what she was telling him as she began a promenade around the room, her hips swaying seductively in her tight-fitting pants, every line and curve of her legs and sexy bottom highlighted by the movement.

  There was no doubt she knew what she was doing to him, as ever other step she would bat her eyelashes at him in a very coquettishly way. Here was the seductress he had met in England.

  When she reached her desk, she pulled a map from a cabinet behind it and sashayed back to the table in the middle of the room. Slowly, she unrolled the map then leaned over and gazed at it.

  Luc was transfixed by the loose-fitting blue top she wore. He laughed to himself over it. She really did wear the color a lot, just as he had been told. The top had a long vee cut in the front of the shirt, that could be closed with a long leather thong. But the thong was missing, and when she bent forward the shirt gapped, revealing her naked breasts to his view.

  Even though he had seen her completely naked the night he had sneaked into her cabin, seeing her this way was erotic. Enticing. And a bit naughty, as if he were doing something he should not be doing.

  He swallowed the plank lodged in his throat as he tried to pull his eyes away from the sight of her creamy white breasts.

  “Would you like to see-” she purred very slowly then paused as she smiled up at him.

  His eyes snapped to hers.

  “-where we are goin’?”

  “What?” he squeaked, frustrated at the juvenile sound to his voice. He cleared his throat and repeated in a deeper voice. “See where we are goin’?”

  She smiled back and raised her chin a little. Telling him without words that she knew she had won this fencing match, hands down. Oh, he knew her game. He had used similar ones to seduce wives into revealing their husbands’ secrets.

  Smiling back he walked around the table and stopped right beside her. “Yes,” he breathed in her ear. “I’d love to see,” he gazed down into her eyes and then allowed his eyes to drift to the opening of her shirt “where we are goin’.”

  He slid his hand forward and brushed up against the soft skin of her arm. A shiver ran through her and passed to him. She was not as in control of her emotions as she pretended to be.

  She looked into his eyes and he gazed into hers. “We’re goin’ ‘ere,” she said and pointed to something on the map. “It’s a little town on the southern coast of Portugal.”

  He smiled and she swallowed. “We . . . we’ll be there by nightfall,” she stammered.

  Luc perused her face as he smiled at her. Round two had just gone to him.

  Peggy suddenly straightened and returned his smile. “I’ve order dinner for the First Dog Watch. Until then, I hope you will be comfortable waiting for me.” She purred the last word. And it hit the mark as his cock jerked painfully.

  She must have seen his discomfort as she gave him another of her seductive smiles, then turned and sashayed out the door.

  “Bloody ‘ell,” he breathed when the door closed behind her. It was going to be a long day now.

  For the next eight hours Luc prowled the room, resurrecting every schoolboy erotic fantasy he had ever had about bedding a woman. He even added some new ones.

  Not once had the walls closed in on him. Nor had the lady returned for the noon meal. Edgar had assured him that the captain was very busy bringing the ship into port and would join him for the evening meal as promised. That had mollified him for another hour or so. But then the walls had begun to creep in on him. And with it his anger had begun a slow climb up the encroaching walls.

  Luc lost track of time, but by his estimation, they had docked about an hour ago. Darkness had fallen and the bells had announced the Dog Watch. He had reached the limit of his endurance and patience for the third or fourth time when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the stairs. Whether they were the ones leading to the quarterdeck or the galley he didn't know.

  His eyes narrowed on the door and he listened to first a muffled exchange in the outer room and then the telltale sounds of someone approaching the door. Embarrassingly, Luc felt his heart flutter and his throat go dry as the first time he had been with a woman.

  When she opened the door his breath froze in his lungs. She had been magnificent in her captain’s togs. She was even more devastatingly beautiful in the now familiar blue and red ball gown she had worn in Rochester.

  He smiled and just drank her in. Then a thought hit him. Thanks to his time seducing wives of French officers, Luc knew a little bit about what it was to get in and out of one of these outfits. And it usually took the helping hands of the maid or an agreeable lover.

  “You are a bonny lass, Peggy Hennessey.” Luc shook his head. “But without a maid, how do you get in and out of that thing?”

  She took a step closer to him, and he breathed in the familiar scent that was Peggy, lilac and roses.

  She pulled back the left side of the bodice and showed him a row of tapes and hooks that he had seen down the back of other lady’s gowns.

  “I had this and my other gowns especially made so that I can get in and out of them on my own.” She shrugged her shoulders. “A necessity for a woman on a boat full of men.”

  He glanced down at his own clothes and then back up at her. “Then I fear, milady, I am woefully underdressed for this engagement.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “No need to worry, Lord Lucien. This will just be a private dinner.”

  Luc grinned. “Your . . . papa is not joining us?” he asked.

  "Joc left the ship with half the crew. And they won't be back until first light."

  An image of the first mate and half his crew of marauding pirates ravaging the unknown Portuguese town flickered across his mind. She must have seen the direction of his thoughts because her smile grew and she laughed. A musical sound that nearly buckled his knees.

  "They're not pirating this time, Captain Stoughton, they are gathering supplies. And using good English coin to do it."

  Luc smiled and nodded. He could just imagine where Joc had gotten the coin for the supplies. It was probably part of the ransom for the Earl of Kiterman. "Edgar told me they had left the ship."

  He understood the implications of her statement; there was no one to interrupt. And judging by the look Joc had given them after the sword fight, he had accepted his ward’s decision to pursue a relationship with Luc. Ironically, it was her papa’s acceptance that had made Luc feel dirty. He didn’t want what happened between him and Peggy to be like all the women he’d had to seduce during the war. He wanted
it to mean more. To both of them.

  Her hand trembled as she raised it towards his face. His rose and met hers. Luc's hand did not stay her advance but instead started a slow caress down her forearm. His own hand trembled as his fingers circled her elbow and then began the long trek up her arm to her shoulder.

  Soft, cool fingers met his cheek and then sprayed upward through the day's growth of his beard. His throat constricted at the abrasions his beard must be causing. But she seemed undaunted and even fascinated with the contrast between the softness of her fingers and the harshness of his face. He opened his mouth to apologize for not being able to shave. He had not been allowed out of the cabin to retrieve his things, including his shaving gear. But he was cut off when she cupped his cheek and then rested her forehead against his chest.

  "We-" she took a shuddering breath, "have to-" another breath, hot and incredibly arousing against his bare skin through the open vee of his shirt, "-to - wait. . ."

  His chin dropped to the top of her head and he inhaled deeply. Her intoxicating scent filled his brain. Wait, dear God in heaven. What was he doing? They needed to talk.

  "Edgar," she whispered.

  Edgar? His mind had turned to mush.

  "will. . ." she stammered out.

  “Edgar will, what?” Luc's befuddled mind cried.

  He grasped her shoulders harder than he intended but was powerless to prevent it. He moved her away from him and beseeched her with his eyes. "Edgar. Will. What?" he spaced out as evenly as he could.

  She visibly swallowed and wet her lips. Then after one failed attempt, she answered his question. "Be back shortly."

  Luc’s eyes narrowed. Damn, he had forgotten that the man had gone after their dinner. Peggy must have misunderstood the look in his eyes because she smiled up at him and caressed his face as a small giggle escaped her lips.

  "Dinner," she confirmed and then leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on the bare skin of his chest.

  Luc tried desperately to regain control of his emotions. "We need to talk. . ."

  The door reverberated as someone began kicking it. He took a hurried step away and eyed the door as Edgar pushed it open.

  “Come,” Peggy called as he backed away, her fingers leaving a burning trail down his arms.

  One of the guards pushed the door the rest of the way open, and Edgar walked in, loaded down with a large tray heaped with food and a bottle of wine.

  Over the years he had watched hundreds of servants perform the same task. And for the first time, he wanted to howl at the man to hurry the hell up. Finally, Edgar poured them each a glass of wine and quietly left them alone.

  Luc walked to the door and dropped the crossbar in place. He then turned and watched as Peggy nervously ran her fingers along the edge of the table. She wasn't as assured of herself as she had been pretending.

  "We need to talk," he repeated as he slowly walked back to the table.

  She looked at him. The vulnerability in the depths of her crystal blue eyes tore at his heart.

  "Peggy, did Joc say something to you after our. . ." Luc started but trailed off.

  Her right eyebrow rose. “Our foreplay in the wardroom?” Her brow rose a little more. “Our sword fight that was obviously not a sword fight?”

  Luc huffed out a breath. “Aye. That.”

  She hesitated, then exhaled. “Yes, Joc talked to me about our little show.”

  She was being evasive, and he was becoming very uncomfortable. From the look on her papa’s face, Luc could just imagine what Joc had said to her. But he wasn’t sure how to ask without sounding crass.

  “And did the two of you talk about our . . . dinner tonight?” he asked.

  Peggy just contemplated him blankly for an eternity. Then she laughed and shook her head. “Lucien, are you trying to ask me if my papa knows we are planning on having sex tonight?”

  Shock and something else flashed through him. God, she was a plain-speaking woman, just one of the things he loved and admired about her. “Bloody ‘ell, woman. That’s not what I was askin’ at all.” Well it was. But not in such a direct way.

  “Then what are you asking me, Lord Lucien?” she demanded with a twinkle in her eyes.

  He could tell she was having fun. “You’re enjoying this,” he said.

  Her mouth kicked up. “Aye, I am.”

  Luc shook his head. He was acting like an untried schoolboy. “Does your papa know what is likely to happen after dinner?”

  “And what is likely to happen afterward, Lucien?” she asked.

  “Peggy!” Luc snapped.

  She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, alright. You’re no fun to tease. And yes, Luc. Joc knows I am interested in you.”

  “And?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “And what?”

  “Oh, for the love of God, woman. Am I likely to wake up with me ballocks in my mouth? Is he goin’ cut me liver out and feed it to the fish? He’s threatened to do it enough times to make me wonder about it.”

  She shook her head. “No, Luc, he is not going to do any of those things,” she said.

  And now the question he had really wanted to ask. “Will he demand that I marry you?”

  She hesitated then shook her head slowly. “No, he’s not going to demand you marry me. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  Luc shook his head. "No. I don't want you being forced to marry me, Peggy," he said, then took a deep breath and plunged into the ocean. “But I do want to marry you.”

  She gawked at him with her mouth open. Finally, she asked, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

  He grimaced. “Not very well, but yes.”

  "Luc, I'm a grown woman. Joc can't force me to do anythin’ if I don't want to. And I am the owner the Coral Sea. And whether I’m her captain or not, there is nothin’ he can do but holler and bluster. I can do what I want and with whomever I want."

  She misunderstood him. Surprisingly, he wasn’t afraid of Joc forcing them to marry as much as pressuring her to marry him. He also didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t answered his proposal. One he knew had been badly done, but nonetheless, it was a proposal of marriage.

  His heart skidded to a stop and then ricocheted off the inside of his ribs. Desperately searching for another way to state his proposal, he reached for the wine Edgar had poured and took a sip.

  She smiled indulgently. Time became suspended as they gazed at each other. Then a sail snapped overhead and a timber creaked somewhere within the ship. Her eyes slid down to the glass in her hand and then to the floor between them. His heart stuttered as he fought to come up with something to say.

  "Peggy," was all he could come up with. Her name escaped his lips on an entreaty. A plea to quench the longing in both their hearts and burning bodies.

  She visibly swallowed and then his name, whisper soft, "Luc."

  His hand rose of its own accord and then froze as he realized he still held the wine in his hand. He laughed and turned to place it on the table. When he turned she was a breath away from him.

  Peggy's wine glass joined his on the table. Her head bent to the side and her eyes locked on the two glasses, now side by side. A smile lit her face as she slowly slid hers over until the two glasses were touching. The symbolism of the action was not lost on him. He laid his hand on top of her fingers where they still rested against the stem of her glass.

  "Peggy, I want you," he said. His heart beat double time as he awaited her answer.

  She smiled, her head still bent. She slowly pulled her hand backward and then pushed it forward, causing his hand to caress hers. After repeating the movement two more times, she rotated her hand until her fingers interlaced with his. She squeezed his hand as her head rose and her eyes locked with his.

  "I want you too. I have since the first time I saw you. I want. . ." She closed her eyes and swallowed. A tear glistened on her eyelashes. "I need for you to make love to me." She took in a shuddering breath. "I might be falling in love with you, Luc.
And no matter what happens, I want these memories." A single tear broke free and slid down her cheek. "I need these memories. Please."

  There was desperation in her voice, as if they didn’t seize the moment, they might never have a chance to. Luc suspected he knew why she felt that way, because he had the same feeling. There was every chance that once they reached Tripoli he might not survive. So the time for talking could wait. For now, all he wanted was to hold Peggy in his arms.

  Chapter 23

  Peggy wanted to believe he hadn't heard her pronouncement. But she couldn't. The myriad of emotions playing across his face said he heard every word.

  He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her fingers. Unbelievably, the gentle touch shot erotic waves up her arm, crashing into the very center of her being. Her spine melted and her knees buckled, canting her body into his more firmly.

  “I’ve been dreaming about this since the moment I saw you at the Wellington’s ball,” he said as his arms encircled her and held her tightly.

  “So have I,” she whispered back breathlessly. In truth, Peggy had been fantasizing about him since she had read his war record.

  Suddenly, she became aware of her breasts in a way she had never before. His thin white silk shirt and the velvet softness of her satin dress and corset stood as a barrier between the two of them. But even so, the warmth of his body penetrated the layers between them and caused her breasts to swell in response. And then she slipped downward, pressed tightly against his body and her nipples pebbled, becoming hypersensitive as she slowly slid up and down his body.

  Increasingly, her clothes became uncomfortable. Constrictive. An unacceptable hindrance. Peggy leaned away from him and pressed the palms of her hands against his chest. The hard muscular ridges beneath her fingers fascinated her. She slid her hands upward, marveling at the erotic sensations vibrating down her arms and to her breasts.

  Her eyes closed and she savored the sensuous feeling. Wetting her lips, she rejoiced in the memory of his lips against hers. When she reached bare skin, Peggy sifted her fingers through the mat of dark hair she found and then retraced the path back to the opening of his shirt.