Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3)

by Ferrarella, Marie

  When Duncan extended his hand to her, the others moved away.

  “Will you walk with me?” He smiled at her invitingly.

  “Perhaps.”

  “If I make coins appear from your pretty ear?”

  She hadn’t even had to look up to be aware of his presence. She had sensed him as he had crossed to her. Like a rabbit that knew a fox was nearby. But she was no rabbit. She was his match, not his prey.

  Beth returned his smile as she withheld her hand for a moment. “Only if you show me how.”

  He closed his hand over hers and brought her to her feet. His smile never shifted, but it was just a shadow darker around the edges.

  “After my secrets again, Beth?”

  She shrugged as she crossed to the terrace. It was the first clear night since she had arrived, and the doors were opened to admit the stars into the manor.

  Beth walked out and leaned against the wall that surrounded the outer rim of the terrace. She looked out upon the fields.

  “Those secrets are not yours,” she pointed out quickly. “They belong to any magician.”

  He did not wish to address her back, unless it was to peel away her clothing and then press kisses to the soft skin he’d glimpsed beneath.

  With his free hand, he turned her around to face him. “Magic,” his breath whispered along her skin, “belongs to anyone who can seize it.”

  There was nowhere to turn. The wall came up to her waist and she was pressed against it. She had thought she might be able to sidestep his efforts. She had been wrong. Beth read his meaning clearly in his eyes, eyes so green she knew she could easily drown in them if she didn’t hold fast to the shore.

  “I am not magic, Duncan.”

  “Ah.” He smiled, and suddenly there was nothing else in the world for her but him. “There we have a difference of opinion.”

  Duncan slipped his hand from the sling. Taking her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers before she could utter a single protest to stop him.

  It was magic suddenly to have her pulse racing and her mind galloping out of control like a horse frightened by the crack of thunder. Magic he had created within her.

  There was only blackness without and a host of colors within.

  Beth had no idea that when two people came together, when they touched lips in this manner, it could be so glorious, so breathtakingly stunning. The very air had left her, as if she had run a long way to fall into his arms this way.

  His hands were roaming her back, pressing her more urgently to him as his mouth slanted over and over again on hers, draining her, renewing her, bringing something dark and thrilling to her that she feasted on.

  She felt the urgency of his desire as he moved against her. Startled, she gloried in it the next moment, absorbing the heat she felt pulsating there. It created a twin within her very core that would have had her ashamed, if she could but think clearly.

  Or at all.

  He banished her thoughts, her very will, with the hot, savory taste of his mouth.

  Duncan found his appetite growing, rather than abating, as he kissed her sweet mouth, her cheeks, the tempting hollow of her throat. He wanted to strip her bare where she stood and take the body that he had become enamored with that first night in his room.

  But Beth was not one for a quick tumble in the loft. She was to be wooed and won. That was why she had to remain here with him. So that he might wear her down.

  He only prayed that the waiting would not undo him, and that the event would not be too long in coming.

  He gathered her closer until he felt her heart against his. His shoulder ached, but it was nought compared to the other ache he felt, the one throbbing so urgently in his loins.

  Sweet God, but he wanted her.

  Excited, thrilled, frightened, Beth felt his hands hot on her, curving, touching. His fingertips brushed along the swell of her breasts and she struggled to draw back. The fear that beat within her was not that he would take her, here, like a common tart, but that she would let him. More, that she wanted him to.

  She wedged her hands against his hard chest and cursed the fact that they were trembling. Her heart was beating as quickly as if she had run the full length of the manor and back again.

  Perhaps she had.

  She waited a moment until she found her breath. Her eyes held him at bay. To her satisfaction, he looked as disoriented as she, though this was far from his first time, as it was hers.

  “Sir,” she swallowed, steadying her voice. “You presume too much.”

  He passed his hand over her hair. Like dark honey, he thought, soft and shimmering when it caught the light. And tempting. He wanted to see that honey spilled out on his pillow.

  “I think, sweet Beth, that I presume just enough.” He stood now, with his back blocking her only course of retreat. And barring any prying eyes that might look upon them, should they be thus inclined.

  “I will not mince words, Beth. I am a simple man with simple wants.” He framed her face with both his hands, the sling hanging abandoned and useless about his neck. “And I want you.”

  To divert his attention from the hammering of her heart, she tugged on the sling a bit too hard, as if she meant to choke him with it. “That much is obvious.”

  But she could not break his concentration. “More than I have ever wanted another woman before. More than I wanted revenge upon my father.” His eyes held her prisoner as he uttered his promise. “And I shall do what I must to have you.”

  She struggled to gather the shreds of dignity that his kiss had stripped from her, for surely he must have tasted the hot desire beneath . . . just as she had tasted his.

  “I am not a treasure to be stolen from the hold of some merchant ship, Duncan.”

  He shook his head. “No. You are far dearer than any treasure I have ever discovered.”

  She forced herself to swallow. The laugh she uttered was meant to put him off, but it rang nervously in her ear. Still, she could read him well.

  “And you are not a simple man, not with that tongue.”

  His laugh enveloped her, touching her as if she stood before him nude again. “I can show you what this tongue can do.”

  She was sure he could. Things a girl with her breeding would never have dreamed in her wildest fantasies. Her cheeks colored. What did he think of her? What could he think of her? He had almost dissolved her beneath the heat of his mouth. Worse, she had almost jumped upon him rather than slapped him for the insult he had rendered.

  “Enough, sir.” With her eyes daring him to touch her again and her back still resting against the wall, she moved aside. With a hand she willed to remain steady, Beth gestured behind her. “The rains have ceased.”

  He nodded slowly, knowing where this road was leading him. “So they have.”

  She pressed her lips together, still tasting him. It dampened the ire she was attempting to raise against him. “And our bargain was that you would provide a coach and driver for me and my companion when they had ended.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Sylvia was still at the table, deep in conversation with Samuel. The old goat was behaving like a young ram, Duncan thought fondly, pleased at the turn of events. Every man needed to feel alive that way.

  “I think that Sylvia would rather remain here,” he said as he turned back to Beth. “With Samuel.”

  “He is amusing himself with her.” Her voice was harsh. She did not wish to see the woman hurt.

  “He is making her happy,” Duncan corrected, as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “As I could you.”

  Beth shrugged off his hands, knowing full well that if she let them remain, she would be undone. A battle raged within her, none the less potent for its invisibility. Not all of Beth wanted to resist Duncan’s advances, only the part of her that clung to honor.

  “If she wishes to remain, that is her choice and she is free to make it.” Beth stepped into the room once more. “I, however, am bound by honor to make mine, and I choose t
o leave.”

  “In the morning,” he reminded her.

  “Yes.” He was too close. Standing behind her, he was much too close for her to successfully continue resisting.

  “But for tonight—?”

  The question whispered along her body, tempting her, drawing to something within her that was completely unknown to her.

  “I shall be packing tonight,” Beth answered, her very words sticking to the roof of her mouth like dried bits of oats.

  His hands slid once more to her shoulders, but the pounding she heard this time was not her heart, but the sound of a fist beating against the front door.

  “See who that is,” Duncan ordered, annoyed at the distraction. If she meant to leave tomorrow, he meant to have her in his bed tonight. His sense of decency warred with a hot, surging desire.

  But the next moment, a boy came running into the room, his eyes wild and unseeing as they scanned one and all.

  “Where’s Master Duncan?” he cried, his voice struggling with hysteria. “I need Master Duncan.”

  Concerned, Duncan released Beth and made his way to the boy. “Here, Jamie.”

  Beth quickly followed.

  Jamie almost fell to his knees as he stumbled toward Duncan. “Please, you must come. Now. It’s Mother!”

  All thoughts of seduction and Beth warming his body left him. “Has her time come?”

  The flaxen head bobbed vigorously. “But it’s not like the others,” he wailed. “Mother says it’s wrong. Something’s wrong.”

  He did not understand. All Jamie knew was that he was frightened. His mother was shrieking in pain and his father was becoming undone.

  “My father’s afraid and he wanted me to fetch you. Come help, Master Duncan. Please.” Frantically, the boy tugged on Duncan’s arm, pulling him to the door.

  Amy saw the confusion cross Beth’s face. “They come to Duncan with everything.”

  “Apparently,” she murmured. It earned her a reproving look from Amy. But Duncan was the furthest thing from a midwife Beth had ever seen. “What are you going to do for the poor woman?” she wanted to know, as he began to follow the boy.

  His link was forged with these people in a chain the likes of which Beth could never hope to understand. “Whatever I can.”

  Beth bit her lip, tasting him again. She was torn. On the one hand, she could not allow herself to become more involved with these people than she already was. She wanted to leave on the morrow.

  But what did Duncan know of helping a woman with child?

  “I’ll be back, my love,” Samuel told Sylvia, giving her hand a squeeze. “Duncan, wait,” he cried. Duncan turned at the door. “I’ll go with you.”

  Beth could not believe her eyes. “A barber and a ‘reformed’ privateer,” she scoffed, with a shake of her head. “To assist at a birthing.”

  Duncan’s eyes challenged her, daring her to throw her lot in with them. “Well, what of it?”

  Beth closed her eyes. She was being a fool again. Their troubles were not hers. Still, her father had taught her well. With a huff, she raised her skirts and hurried to the door.

  “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

  Duncan suppressed his smile of triumph. “Haven’t you packing to see to?”

  He was mocking her, but she let it pass.

  “There’s not that much to pack.” She pushed past Duncan and took the boy’s hand in hers. She gave him a reassuring smile. “And I shall not be able to live with myself if I let you two go and tend to that poor, defenseless woman on your own.”

  Jacob thrust a lantern into Samuel’s hand to lead the way. Jamie had stumbled to them in the dark, with but the moon to mark his way. The old man looked at Beth, taking insult at her words.

  “Mistress, I’ve been tending to these people’s complaints for longer than you’ve been alive.”

  “It’s a wonder, then, that they’re still alive.” She murmured the words under her breath, but Duncan heard and laughed.

  “Let’s be off,” he urged, ushering Beth out before there could be further words between them. There was a woman lying on a straw bed who needed them at her side. “Don’t you worry, Jamie, everything is going to be all right.”

  Beth looked up at Duncan as they hurried into the night, wondering how he could make such promises when they weren’t his to keep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The cottage was outlined by the light cast from Samuel’s lantern as they rushed across the meadow. Though it appeared to be small, it had the look of warmth and comfort about it.

  She felt a sharp prick of nostalgia. The cottage reminded her of the slaves’ quarters back home in Virginia. But those were whitewashed, and neatly arranged in two long rows, like dancers at a reel. Here, the little building stood alone, with gray stones surrounding its foundations like rocks about a rose garden. A thatched roof sagged sadly overhead, worn and the worse for wear from fending off the rains. It would have to be mended, and soon.

  Beth heard the loud keening before they were even close to the door. It ripped across the darkness like a sharp dagger.

  “Mother!”

  Terror echoed within Jamie’s voice and left its mark on his face. He tried to break free, but Beth kept her hand tightly about his. He tugged at the link between them, his eyes accusing as he looked at her.

  “Birthing is a hard thing on a woman,” Beth told the boy softly. “Tis only natural for her to cry out.”

  Beth raised her eyes and saw the look in Duncan’s. These cries, they both knew, were not natural. They went beyond the realm of what was expected.

  It was as if the forces of hell were trying to rent the woman in two.

  When they reached the door, there was no need to knock. Beth doubted that any within would hear. The woman’s cries smothered every other sound.

  Duncan pushed the door open with the flat of his hand, impatient to help, not knowing how.

  As soon as they entered, the square man pacing before the fireplace like a hunted beast all but fell upon them. He clutched Duncan’s arm with the desperation of a man who knew he was drowning. “Duncan, you’re here. Saints be praised.”

  If he was unsure of himself, Duncan gave no indication to the man. The look he gave him was confident and comforting.

  “I’m here, John.” He smiled at the cluster of children who were quick to collect around him. Beth counted five in all, including Jamie. Duncan nodded toward the other room. “How is Enid?”

  “Not good, not good.” John scrubbed his hand over his face. Sweat gleamed. “It’s been this way since before sunset.” John rung his beefy, wide hands, which were better suited to tending a plow than to aiding his wife with the delicate task of bringing a new life into the world. “The baby feels all wrong to her.”

  He looked toward the room as if something unspeakable was happening there. Another shriek came like a volley of musket fire. One of the children covered his ears, hiding behind his brother.

  “You know how easy the others came. Like eels sliding out of the water.” His hold tightened on Duncan’s arm. “Can you help her?”

  Duncan pressed his lips together. There was nought that he could do but offer words of comfort to the woman until the deed was done. “I—“

  Beth shifted impatiently. He might be the master here, but she had no time to wait until he gave leave for her to act. The next cry that arose from the bedroom had her pushing him aside to enter the tiny bedroom where the woman lay.

  The sight that greeted her eyes made Beth gasp. The woman, haunted and small but for the mound formed by the child, was writhing on the bed. Her hands were red and bleeding.

  Her heart in her throat, Beth crossed to the bed and lifted one bloodied hand to examine it. “What is this?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  John pushed his bulk past Duncan into the room. With the five of them in it, there was no room to move. “She’s been biting on them when the pain grows to be too much to bear.”

  “She’ll gnaw off her fing
ers like a trapped animal. Get her a stick or something to bite down on.” Beth tossed the command at Samuel.

  She touched the woman’s head. It was burning from the heat and the strain.

  Authority rose in Beth’s voice. “I want a basin filled with hot water and another with cool to bathe her forehead.” As she spoke, she pushed the sleeves of her dress up past her elbows. It looked to be a long night ahead for all of them.

  John shook his head as Samuel returned with a stick he had pared down. “You’ll get one or the other, we haven’t two.”

  Beth took the stick from Samuel as she looked over her shoulder at Duncan, impatience on her brow. Duncan was quick to understand her meaning. “Samuel, fetch another basin from the house.”

  “Done.” The word hung in Samuel’s wake as he hurried away.

  It was a hot, moist night. There was precious little air in the room to breathe as it was. The press of bodies made it intolerable. Beth turned to the remaining men and the children who looked in at the doorway.

  “Now, clear the room, all of you.” She gestured with her hands as if to chase them from the small space.

  “But I’m her husband—“ John protested. Fear mingled with a desire to flee, shaming him.

  Another scream from the woman had Beth raising her voice to be heard.

  “Yes, I know,” she said kindly. “But I don’t want you getting underfoot. See to your other children, and calm their fears.”

  Rather than leave, John turned questioningly toward Duncan. “Who is she, Duncan?”

  Despite the situation, a smile touched Duncan’s mouth. He had been wondering that himself tonight, after he had kissed her. Beth had managed to catch his soul off guard. “That all depends on who you ask. Jacob thinks she’s a goddess brought to earth. Samuel regards her as a meddlesome fairy sprite.”

  “And you?” It was the only opinion that mattered to the man.

  Duncan’s expression softened as he looked down upon a man who had fought by his side for the better part of ten years. He could trust his life to John.

  “She’s a woman, John. One who, I would wager, can help your Enid. Come.” With his arm around the short man’s broad shoulders, Duncan ushered him out of the room.