Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3)

by Ferrarella, Marie

  “It always caused my mother much grief to see me ride thus.” She sighed as she thought of it. “Everything I did caused my mother much grief.” Though they loved one another, mother and daughter had no common ground upon which to meet. Dorothy Beaulieu could not begin to understand her daughter’s strange ways. And her mother’s wishes to remain hiding in the shadows of life often mystified and annoyed Beth. “She is far happier with my sisters.”

  He had not thought of her as having more of a family than just her father. Since he was his mother’s only child, he had given the attribute to Beth. “Are there many like you at home?”

  She guided her horse away from a low-hanging branch that would surely have tangled in her hair.

  “None.” She flashed Duncan a smile when she saw the confusion on his face. “But I have three sisters, if that is your question.” Beth looked forward and continued, as if reciting, “All comely, obedient, and well versed in womanly arts.”

  And hopelessly boring and dull, she added silently.

  And very all different from Beth, Duncan thought. He laughed and the sound echoed from the trees that surrounded them like green, shaggy sentries as they made way.

  “I’d wager that the entire lot of them is not worth one of you.”

  If she meant to suppress the pleased smile that rose to her lips at the sound of his pronouncement, she failed miserably. Her mouth curved deeply. “You would be the first of that opinion.”

  He looked at her. If that were true, then he was not only the first to make love to her body, but the first to kiss her lips as well. The idea pleased Duncan beyond measure.

  He nodded. “Good.” With a kick of his heels, he urged his horse ahead of hers.

  Beth pressed her heels harder into the bay’s flanks, refusing to be passed. She did not ask what he meant by his comment. It undoubtedly had something to do with his manly pride. She knew that men enjoyed being the first to have a woman, and Duncan had been her first.

  And, she thought, though Beth locked the secret away deep in her heart, he would be the last. She did not have to look over an entire field to know when she had seen a rare flower that had no match. So it was with Duncan. She did not need to look upon the faces of all men to know that there were none like Duncan.

  Beth had never been one to accept second best if there was something better in the offing. Rather nothing at all than settling.

  And that, she thought, as she slanted a look at his face as they rode, would be what she would have in end. Nothing. For Duncan was not one to be shackled to a single woman. Like a bee that was meant to go from flower to flower, to gather honey where he might, Duncan would always remain free. This was something she knew in her heart to be true just as plainly as she knew herself.

  The weather smiled upon them and the journey went swifter than Duncan could have hoped for. He knew the countryside well, knew the shortest paths to take. They stopped only to rest the horses. Beth would not allow them to stop on her account. After so much delay, she was anxious to reach journey’s end. Beth feared that the weather would turn foul once more and prevent their crossing the Channel.

  Far from worrying that Beth could not keep up with them, Duncan found that he and Jacob had to press hard so that they could keep up with her.

  Though she seemed tired, there was an unmistakable urgency that pushed her onward.

  She was a complete puzzlement to him. She looked like a dove and behaved like a falcon. He spurred his horse closer to hers again, the way he had done a dozen times since they had set out. “You ride as if the very devil is at your back.”

  Her breath was being stolen by the wind, and she had to husband it in order to be heard. “No, up ahead, from what I have heard.”

  So she knew more than he had told her, he thought. “And what have you heard?”

  She tried to separate the words from her thoughts about her father, from her fears about her father’s safety. She pretended that she was reciting something that she had seen printed in the Virginia Gazette back home.

  “That there have been killings and lootings. That there are bands of self-righteous people reclaiming things that never belonged to them to begin with, that they had never had a right to, under King nor God.”

  Jacob, who had ridden silently by them for the better part of two days, suddenly turned toward Beth, a question shining in his eyes. “Why did your father go to a place like that?”

  She was surprised that Jacob had been listening. He had been so quiet, she had all but forgotten that he was with them. She turned slightly in her saddle and the wind whipped her words to him.

  “Because he is a good man.” And good men do things that get them killed. “Because his mother, my grandmother, and his maiden aunt are still in Paris, and he was worried for their safety.”

  Beth looked ahead, unseeing. Before her eyes was the last time she had seen her father and the conversation they had, the one in which she entreated him not to leave, all the while knowing that for her father there could be no other way.

  “And because he thought he might be able to help. Whenever people take up the sword, he thinks himself needed.” Beth turned toward Duncan. Her voice softened and perhaps there was even a hint of an apology there, because he had chosen to help her. “He fought against you in the Revolution.”

  Duncan shook his head. She was still not clear about that, he thought.

  “I did not fight in the Revolution, Beth.” He saw her open her mouth in protest. He was quick to clarify the difference as he saw it. “I plundered American ships for English advantage which was clearly in my family’s interest.”

  Her brows drew together as she tried to understand the words. Had she misheard him? He had said his father was dead, as was his mother.

  “Your family?”

  Duncan nodded. There was no other way to think of the people who populated his life. “The people you saw on the manor and at the house. Samuel, John, Amy. Tommy.” He laughed as he caught Jacob’s eye. “Even that one.”

  It was an unusual sentiment, and a charitable one. “You think of them as your family?”

  Since the moment he had found his way to the London streets and been rescued by Samuel. “ ’Tis the only one I have now.”

  She thought back to the story he had told her about his father. “You mentioned half-brothers.”

  His face hardened, as different from a moment ago as day was from night. “They are strangers.” He turned his eyes toward Beth. “Blood does not always make family, Beth. Feelings do.”

  She believed he meant that, and it made her heart glad. She had been right in her estimation that he was a rare man. “Then you would get on well with my father, for those are his sentiments as well.”

  Duncan laughed shortly as he saw Dover emerge on the horizon. Beyond that, the harbor waters shimmered, beckoning to him as the sea always did. “I do not know how well I would get on with him. I do not think he would take it lightly that I have brought his eldest daughter into danger.”

  Because they were almost there, she spurred her tired bay on.

  “I think that he would not smile,” she agreed readily, “but he would understand that you had no choice in the matter.” Beth raised her eyes to his, a pleased smile lifting her lips. “I am my father’s daughter, not my mother’s.”

  Duncan could only nod. “I am truly looking forward to meeting the man.”

  With all her heart, Beth prayed that he would be able to.

  Duncan dispatched Jacob to discover which ship was leaving across the Channel for France at the earliest scheduled departure. In the time it took to secure that information, Duncan ushered Beth to an inn, though Beth protested that she was neither hungry nor thirsty.

  ‘Then you are even rarer a woman than I thought. But I am only a mortal man, and I require both if I am to continue on this journey.”

  So saying, he chose the closest inn that did not look as if it contained the dregs of seafaring society within it. Dressed as a young boy or not, e
ven with her hair now fastened and tucked beneath a cap, Beth was most assuredly womanly in form, and he wanted no more battles upon his hands than were absolutely necessary.

  He nodded at the man behind the bar as he entered the Boar and Cock and quickly ushered Beth to a table. When the barmaid drifted to their table, he ordered three full meals, keeping Jacob in mind.

  “Hungry, are you?” the young woman asked knowingly.

  The dirtied blouse she wore barely clung to the swell of her more than ample bosom. Her face was worn, her smile eager; and her eyes were swift to measure the length and breadth of Duncan. She found him well worth her trouble.

  “I’ve ways of satisfying men with large—“ her full mouth curved more, “appetites.”

  “Then you’d best be on your way, doing it,” Beth said evenly. The woman turned to look at her haughtily. “Because his appetite will be satisfied by what he can find at this table.” The look in Beth’s eyes challenged the woman to say anything further.

  Though she was clearly angered, the woman retreated. “Very well, I’ll bring your supper.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked away.

  Duncan lifted his tankard of ale to toast her. “Fighting to defend my honor, Beth?” Duncan asked, amused.

  She pretended not to take note of his smug manner. “Merely assuring myself that I will leave with exactly what I entered with.” She leaned closer, her voice lowered. “If your head can be turned by something like that, you’re of no service to me.”

  He set his tankard down, his eyes on hers. “On the contrary, Beth, I think that I shall be of great service to you.”

  Beth knew he meant it in more ways than one.

  Jacob found them before they were finished, to tell them that he had found a ship leaving within the hour. There would be no others for more than two days.

  Hastily wrapping what remained, as well as Jacob’s meal, they left the inn and made their way to a ship whimsically called the Bard’s Honor.

  They were to sea within the hour.

  The crossing, with a strong wind to assist them, took a little more than a day, and went smoothly. Jacob looked overjoyed to be back upon the water, even for such a little while. And as for Duncan, Beth could see that he clearly loved being on deck, feeling the water’s spray in his face as he leaned at the railing. He’d been standing there for hours and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

  Was the sea a woman to him, with endless allure?

  Beth joined Duncan and Jacob as they stood at the railing in comfortable silence. She studied Duncan for a moment. “You look as if you are reborn.”

  There was something about the sea that spoke to him. He knew he would always be half in love with it, though she could know no master. A little, he thought, like Beth. “Do I?”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward so as to get a better look at him. “Your eyes have the look about them of a man who has come home.”

  With a trace of nostalgia gliding through his veins, Duncan ran his hand along the railing. The salty air had eaten into it, and rather than feel smooth, it was full of tiny holes. Just like his own galleon had been.

  “I spent five years more upon the sea than on the land.” He shut his eyes as the wind feathered long fingers through his hair and dipped into his soul. When he opened them again, he looked down into Beth’s upturned face. “For some, that feeling of belonging to the sea never leaves.”

  “For some,” she repeated. “Such as you?”

  Enough of these feelings, he thought. He laughed softly.

  “I can make my home anywhere I must. I am adaptable to many conditions.” His past life attested to that. “I remember someone once standing over me in prison, after they had flogged me, and saying that I was too wicked to die.”

  Beth’s mouth had dropped open. “Flogged you? In prison?”

  He wondered if learning that he had been in prison changed her opinion of him.

  “Does that shock you, Beth?” he asked, his voice soft. “That I was in prison?”

  She weighed her words carefully. They mattered dearly, she realized, looking up into his eyes. Though he scornfully laughed at danger, she had already learned that the man’s heart could be easily offended.

  “It shocks me that anyone could capture you.”

  It was the right answer. His mouth curved. “I am mortal, Beth.”

  He took her hand into his and gently stroked it with his thumb. He could see desire flowering in her eyes. Just as it flowered in his soul.

  “You have proved that, if nothing else.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes holding her prisoner, just as the Tower had once held him. Jacob had secured one cabin for them to take their rest. It was all the captain had to spare. “Will you go below with me?”

  She wanted to, but now was not the time. She turned to look toward the other man at the rail. “Jacob—“

  With the crook of his finger, Duncan brought her eyes back to his.

  “—Knows only what I tell him, thinks only what I tell him to think.” He saw the look blossoming on her face. She was taking offense for Jacob’s sake. But it was not a matter of Jacob being a lackey. There was another reason for Duncan’s words. “Jacob is an innocent, Beth. He sees the world through eyes only children are blessed with. There is no condemnation within them, or in his simple soul.”

  Perhaps not, she thought, glancing at Jacob again and receiving a wide smile in return. “But the captain will know.”

  The captain was on the other side of the ship and cared not about his passengers’ affairs if they did not affect him. “Only if we tell him.”

  Still she resisted. Her heart was not free to join her body. Not when they were so close to her goal. “Duncan, I cannot.”

  He smiled as he toyed with the outline of her ear, brushing his fingers along it. “The last time you said those words, you did.”

  She sighed as she shook her head. She was weakening and had to struggle to keep her resolve. “You have a silver tongue.”

  His laugh was warm and lusty. “You would be the one to best know the texture of it.”

  Beth bit her lip. “Truly I am tempted, but—“

  He took her hands and placed them against his chest. Against his heart.

  “It is very tiring to try to resist temptation, Beth,” he told her solemnly. “Do not tire yourself out. You need your strength for the journey.”

  His persistence was tinged with amusement, as if it were a game, one he knew he would not win this round. “Laying with you does not create strength, Duncan, it takes it away.”

  He released her hands and pretended to sigh. “You’ve an answer for everything.”

  Except for these feelings I have for you, she thought helplessly.

  “Very well, I shall let you win your argument this time.” Standing behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “But ’tis a lonely thing, being a winner, Beth. Sometimes, it is best to lose.”

  She closed her eyes, struggling. And losing.

  “Land, Duncan,” Jacob cried excitedly.

  Beth’s eyes flew open and she stood on her toes, peering over the railing. There was but mist for her to see.

  “There always is, at the end of the sea,” Duncan answered, with a resigned tone.

  And what, he wondered, was at the end of his sea? He had never wondered before, never taken more than a moment at a time. Perhaps this was what came of being landlocked for so long, he thought. Suddenly eternity shimmered before you and your thoughts turned stale.

  He looked at Bern’s face and decided that perhaps his thoughts were not quite stale after all.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Duncan could feel Beth’s anxiety growing as she stood beside him on the dock. They were waiting for their horses to be brought off. The captain had at first refused to allow the horses on his ship. His mind had changed when he’d seen the color of the gold coins Duncan crossed his palm with.

  The animals’ passage
had cost them dearly. But Duncan did not want to trust his fate, or that of Beth’s and Jacob’s, to horses he was not familiar with. Though he might grumble about the animal, his stallion was surefooted and swift as the wind. Duncan had chosen two more horses of equal ability for Jacob and Beth.

  Destiny was a difficult sea to navigate blindly, but he did what he could to prepare for this adventure that stretched before him, this adventure that involved a woman he had come quickly to regard as as necessary to him as the very air he took in.

  After a young sailor coaxed the animals down the gangplank, Duncan slipped a coin into his hand. The dull eyes brightened and widened. The boy bowed. “Anything else, Your Grace?”

  Duncan laughed. Clearly the boy had his titles confused. “There is nothing of grace about me, boy.” Duncan looked past the boy’s head at the vessel. “I was a captain once, on a ship three times this size.” But it was better not to speak of those days. There were enemies still alive, enemies who harbored grudges and a need for revenge. “No,” he said, “there is nothing else.”

  Duncan turned to Beth as he handed her the bay’s reins. “Do you know the way to your father’s house?”

  She nodded. “I was there once, years ago.”

  His eyes narrowed. She had not mentioned that before. “How many years?”

  She thought back. “Fourteen.”

  He looked at her, stunned. “You were a babe in arms,” he scoffed.

  She raised her chin in a gesture he now saw whenever he closed his eyes. “I was eight.”

  “And you remember,” he mocked.

  Her eyes did not waver from his. “I remember. Every path, every tree,” she insisted willfully. “My grandmother’s home is on the outskirts of Paris. The northern outskirts,” she added, for good measure.

  His skeptical look was replaced with concern. “That is the center of the trouble, Beth.”

  She nodded, their differences momentarily aside. “I know.” She looked up at him, a troubled daughter, her heart heavy. “That is why I am so worried.”

  Duncan motioned Beth and Jacob away from the docks. It was not the most reputable of places and he wanted to put distance between them and the sailors who were milling about there.