Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  The wide beach was a pale golden strip between the dense green shrubbery, trees, and flowers of inland and the sparkling turquoise of the water. The bay was wide and gently curving and completely empty. Jo kicked off her slippers and tucked them with her shawl and bonnet under a scrubby bush.

  The sand was hot to the touch and she dug her feet down a few inches to where it was just warm, wriggling her toes, enjoying the delicious scratch of each grain.

  A light breeze lifted the tendrils of hair at her brow and cooled her damp skin. Thoughts of Thomas Kent and Mr. Livingston lifted away on the currents. Chester and Molly faded from her thoughts, and the list of chores she’d made for the next week slipped from her mind. There was only the constant repetition of the surf crashing against the shore, only the bright white light of a midday sun beating against her eyes, shimmering off the ocean further out.

  Josephine picked up her skirts and ran across the beach to the water, playing a game of tag with the surf, chasing it as it drew back into the sea, running backward from it as it rolled quickly forward. She laughed, feeling like a child, feeling free from fear or worry or responsibility.

  A deep chuckle behind her startled her. “If it catches you, it will pull you in and turn you into a mermaid.”

  With a gasp, she whirled around to find Hungerford Spooner observing her antics with a broad smile on his face.

  He wore a loose jacket but no necktie. His hands were tucked into his trouser pockets, his feet spread wide in the sand. She saw that he was barefoot as well, his trouser legs rolled up so that she could see the graceful curve of his ankle. He radiated a relaxed ease and he was so handsome that she instantly felt foolish to have been caught acting like a young child.

  Realizing her skirts were still bunched up at her knees, she quickly dropped them, feeling the hem soaking up the ankle-deep water. She was about to say something—she had no idea what—when a particularly large wave hit her from behind, drenching her to the waist and causing her to stumble to maintain her balance.

  In an instant, Mr. Spooner was at her side, catching her up and setting her down on the dry sand.

  “You thought I was joking. Neptune would love nothing more than to have a lady as beautiful as you to do his bidding.”

  Putting a hand to her hair, she could tell it had come half-unmoored from its pins and trailed over her left shoulder. She glanced down at her sodden and sandy gown and up again at Mr. Spooner. He followed her gaze and when their eyes met, they both burst out laughing.

  “Oh indeed, I should expect nothing less than the sea god’s affection for appearing at his lair looking so beautiful.”

  Mr. Spooner’s laughter faded, though he smiled down at her. “He should lay the wealth of his kingdom at your feet for you are the most beautiful woman he’ll have ever seen.”

  Looking up at him, she knew what he meant was that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She felt a flush warm her entire body. It was different from the sun’s heat; this radiated out from her very core and made her feel like she’d drunk a glass of champagne. Perhaps even a full bottle.

  “No one has ever said that to me.”

  “What? Called you beautiful? How can that be? Are the men in England blind?”

  She smiled, a slow languorous smile at his disbelief. She shook her head slowly.

  “Then they’re mad,” he said, his voice low. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. His eyes were a multifaceted mix of gold and green with flecks of reflected sunlight that dazzled her, enchanted her as if she were under a spell.

  She was so absorbed with, well, everything about him that she didn’t notice the surf had risen to mid-calf. She was fascinated by the fullness of his lower lip, the close-clipped burr of his goatee, the hollow of his cheeks beneath strong cheekbones. Even his ordinary linen shirt and loosely fitted jacket seemed utterly fascinating.

  His lips twitched with amusement. “The tide is coming in. Perhaps we should—”

  She started, realizing that she was standing knee deep in water, and that Mr. Spooner’s pant hems were floating above his ankles.

  “Oh!” she laughed self-consciously as they plowed through the water to dry sand. She glanced up the beach to where a tumble of boulders spilled from the jungle down into the sand.

  “Perhaps we should sit on the rocks to dry out,” she suggested and shyly took his arm when he offered it. Once seated with her skirts spread out about her, she cast about for something to say but he spoke first.

  “How long ago did you arrive on St. Kitts?” he asked.

  “Just over a year ago.” Skipping over the years of her marriage, she explained the death of her parents and Theo’s attempts to reach their uncle, ending in his taking to a ship that was attacked and his misreported death.

  “And it took you four years to learn he was still alive?”

  Jo caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had already told him that Kent was unkind to her. There was little point in hiding that Thomas Kent had kept her brother’s letters hidden from her. “I, ah, lost contact with our cousins with whom I was staying when Theo left. And then Mr. Kent--my...my husband--well, he, he kept Theo’s letters from me.”

  She glanced at Mr. Spooner and then away, but not before she saw him frown.

  Before he could say anything, she spoke. “And were you born here, Mr. Spooner?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He nodded and eyed her speculatively. “My father owned a sizeable sugar cane plantation on the east side of the island. After his death five years ago, I sold most of the land and bought several ships.”

  Jo wondered about his mother, if she’d been his father’s slave, if she’d had a choice in their relationship. She could not imagine asking such an intimate question.

  “Do you enjoy sailing?” she asked instead.

  He laughed. “I’m not a natural sailor, if that’s what you’re asking. I enjoy seeing new places, but I find the actual voyage part to be rather tedious. Just don’t tell my crew that!” he said with a chuckle. “They are true sailors who would rather be on a ship than the most beautiful land with the most comfortable bed.”

  She grinned. “Where have you travelled?”

  “Throughout the West Indies, of course. Venezuela, Brazil—that’s how I gained the connection to the captain who sails to Australia.”

  “Have you ever been to England?”

  “Once, two years ago. I sailed into London. St. Katherine’s docks.”

  “And how did you find it?”

  “Grey. Damp. Cold.”

  Jo laughed. “Were you there in the winter?”

  “No! It was August!”

  She laughed again, thinking that after living in the tropics, England’s weather could not help but suffer in comparison. It occurred to her then that Mr. Spooner would have been in London at the same time she was. She and Thomas Kent had moved to London in the spring of that year when he began his new business venture, the opium-producing workhouses.

  “Imagine if we had met then,” she said softly.

  He smiled. “Then I wouldn’t have noticed the cold.”

  A small gasp escaped her at his statement. No man had ever flirted with her like this. Their gazes caught and Jo felt her awareness for this man in every fiber of her body. She longed to lean forward and press her lips to his, but she hadn’t the first idea how to kiss. The few she’d shared with Thomas Kent had been unpleasant. She had never done more than endure them. The unwelcome shade of Kent cast a pall on her mood and Jo broke their gaze, turning her head to stare out over the ocean.

  Though her body still thrummed with awareness of Mr. Spooner, Jo’s mind reminded her that she knew nothing about him, not really. After four years with Thomas Kent, she found it difficult to trust men, did not trust her judgment of them. It had taken nearly the entire ocean crossing for her to talk to Chester, a man who’d left his life in London to escort her halfway across the world. Now of course she felt safe in his compan
y, but besides Theo, there were no other men she’d met on St. Kitts in the past year around whom she felt comfortable letting her guard down..

  Except, she realized, Mr. Spooner. From the first moment she’d met him, he had made her feel safe. Safe and attuned to him in a way she’d never experienced, even before her parents had died.

  But how could she trust that safety, that awareness? In her head she heard Thomas Kent’s scathing assertion that she was a foolish woman in need of firm guidance and discipline.

  “I need to go,” she said abruptly. “I need to leave.” She could hear the edge in her voice but was helpless to temper it. “My brother will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

  Without a word, Mr. Spooner hopped down from the boulder and offered her his hand.

  She hesitated just a moment before taking it, but in that moment she saw his gaze shutter, the heat and connection they’d shared quickly snuffed out. She felt it’s loss like a physical pain and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to renew it.

  He’d saved her twice: once from her fears and once from certain death. Surely that qualified a man as trustworthy. But even more than that, there was simply something about him that told her he would never hurt her. Despite her ingrained fears, she decided to trust him.

  She suddenly realized that she had to explain her quicksilver change of mood, and not with the lady’s standard excuse of feeling faint.

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, he moved to release her hand, but she gripped his tightly, eliciting a startled glance from him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, found no words came out, and licked her lips nervously, noticing with a flare of pleasure that the movement drew Mr. Spooner’s gaze, making it go dark and smoky. She needed no experience to interpret that look.

  Pulling herself from that line of thought, she took a deep breath.

  “My husband used to—to beat me.”

  A small frown creased his brow. “You said he was unkind. Beating a woman is far more than unkind.”

  She nodded and clung more tightly to his warm hands with fingers that had gone suddenly icy despite the hot day. He placed his other hand atop hers, warming them and infusing her with his strength. She felt it rush up her arms and nestle in the center of her chest.

  “How long did you endure it?”

  “I was married for five years. He—he first hit me just a few weeks after we married. I scarcely knew him when we wed. My relatives encouraged the match. I was at my wit’s end. I had no money of my own and thought Theo was dead. ”

  Mr. Spooner’s gaze went hard, his expression implacable. But still he held her hands gently, tenderly, and she knew whatever emotions he was feeling were directed at Thomas Kent.

  “That man you are holding—Josiah Benjamin—worked with Mr. Kent. They ran a horrible business for which they were arrested shortly after I left England.”

  “How did you escape?”

  She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m not telling this story very well, am I? I am a bit flustered. Do you—that is, would you mind if we walked a bit?”

  He placed her arm through his and they walked further up the beach as she told him everything. She told him about Kent’s opium manufacturing, Lady Howard’s friendship, and how she came to be on St. Kitts.

  By the time she’d finished telling her story, they were at the end of the beach. The golden sand stopped abruptly against a rocky bluff. The waves crashed harder here and the pounding of the surf seemed to scour the last thoughts of Thomas Kent from her mind, leaving her feeling at peace.

  They paused to watch the mesmerizing waves in companionable silence. Finally, she turned to him.

  “I know most men aren’t like him. But sometimes I still have memories of those years and they send me into a bit of a panic. It’s silly, I know—”

  “It’s not silly. It’s perfectly natural. Did something remind you of him back there?” he asked with a nod down the beach.

  “It wasn’t a memory so much as—well, I suppose it was, but—oh! I’m making a hash of this again!”

  He smiled and gently touched her chin, lifting it so that their gazes met. He caressed her cheek with the back of his finger.

  “You can tell me,” he said, his voice low and husky. She felt the vibration of it like a caress along her spine.

  She nodded, lost in the depths of his eyes which today reminded her of the ocean with all its myriad of shades.

  “I felt…drawn to you.” Her heart was pounding so hard, she was surprised they couldn’t hear it over the crash of the waves. She’d never said anything so personal, so intimate, to another person.

  “I feel drawn to you as well,” he said and now her heart raced for a different reason. The reassurance in his gaze gave her the courage to continue.

  “I felt—feel drawn to you, but I’ve never experienced this before. I have a difficult time trusting people.”

  “It’s no wonder,” he said, his caressing fingers travelling to the back of her neck where he gently massaged the tense muscles.

  She nodded. “Because this feeling is so new, I have a hard time believing in it, believing in myself, I suppose.”

  “And how do you feel now? Right now, right here?”

  “Safe,” she said without hesitation. “Safe and—” she caught her breath. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You don’t need to explain it. I know what you mean.” His voice softened as he drew closer to her until it was a whisper. “I feel it too.” He paused with his lips just inches from hers and she realized he was waiting for her decision. She lifted her face to his and their lips met.

  It was simply a gentle pressure of mouth against mouth at first and she wondered if this was all there was to kissing. It was pleasant, certainly, but…

  Then his lips began to move against hers and she lost the ability to think.

  He nibbled gently at her lower lip and she gasped at the sensation, then drew in a desperate breath when he lightly traced the corner of her mouth with his tongue. Without thought, her own darted out to meet his and suddenly they were fused together. He drew her flush against his body, his arms locked about her waist. She twined her own arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were the only thing saving her from drowning. He tasted faintly of coffee and something sweet, as if he’d eaten a mango for breakfast.

  Her hands explored the warm skin above his collar, then slid up to cup his face like a chalice and she drank from him an elixir she hadn’t realized she needed. Never before had her entire body thrummed like a violin string because of someone’s touch. Never had she felt as if she were the missing piece to a puzzle.

  He slid his hands along her back in a caress that should have been soothing but instead acted like a match to tinder. She could not press herself closely enough to him. His mouth was on her neck now and she clasped his head to hold it there as streaks of fires spread along the tender skin there. Her head dropped back, too heavy for her besieged neck to hold up and she gasped for breath. Her legs seemed unable or unwilling to keep her upright, but when she didn’t collapse to the ground, she realized it was because she was completely supported by Mr. Spooner, one of his arms clasped tightly around her ribs, the other cupping her head.

  His lips returned to hers and after what could have been seconds or hours, he lifted his head.

  Though her eyelids felt like they’d been weighted down, she slowly batted them open to find his heated gaze on her. They stared at one another in silence for several long moments before she finally said, “Oh my.”

  At that, a grin curved his lips, a dent in one cheek just at the edge of his whiskers betraying a boyish dimple

  “Oh my, indeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ford stared down at Miss Barclay and thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and the color was high in her cheeks. Beneath the dark slash of her brows, her blue eyes were languid and passion-dazed. Silky strands of inky hair ha
d escaped her coiffure and he gently drew one from the corner of her mouth to tuck it behind her shell-like ear.

  When he’d seen her walking along the beach an hour ago, his feet began moving without conscious thought. He had been too far away to even see her features but he’d known it was her. Something about the curve of her spine or the sway of her hips or the set of her head called to him as loudly as if she had yelled his name into the wind.

  He’d had no thought as to why he was approaching her, and he certainly hadn’t planned to kiss her. He simply wanted to be near her.

  But now that they had kissed, he knew his life would never be the same.

  When she’d exclaimed, “Oh my,” he couldn’t contain his grin, even though his body had never been harder, his every sense filled with the scent and taste of her.

  “Oh my indeed,” he’d replied, his voice raspy with a passion the magnitude of which he’d never before encountered.

  They gazed at one another in a silence that was awkward only because they both clearly wished to resume their recent activity and yet there seemed to be so much to say as well. The sound of children laughing further down the beach brought them out of their sensual haze and they slowly drew apart.

  “Mr. Spooner,” she began.

  He chuckled. “Ford. I go by Ford.”

  She smiled shyly. “I am Josephine. I—I like to be called Jo.”

  He frowned in confusion. “I thought your brother called you Anne.”

  “It was my mother’s name. We thought it best I assume a new identity in case my—in case anyone came looking for me.”

  He nodded. It made sense, and yet, apparently quite by chance, she had been found.

  “I see Benjamin off tomorrow. The Arianna departs at high tide.”

  She smiled. “‘See him off’ makes it sound like you are bidding bon voyage to an old friend.”

  He smiled in return. The yells of the playing children grew closer.

  “I should return home. Theo will be thinking I’ve run into another villain.”