Wright, Cynthia

by Touch the Sun

  "They have looked just that desperate since they emerged from his carriage Thursday, barely an hour after they were introduced!" Sally argued. "Something is just not right."

  "Well, tomorrow they will be married and you can stop worrying."

  "Fine, John. In the meantime, if Lion Hampshire gets cold feet on his wedding day, my vigilance shall be the reason why Meagan loses nothing but her heart!"

  Though separated from Sally Jay by four families and a pair of plump dowagers, Lion could guess what she was saying. The expression on her face was becoming familiar.

  "Your duenna is upset, fondling," he murmured to Meagan. Feeling her hand slip under his coat, he could scarcely refrain from tossing her onto the nearest bit of greenery and having her. His loins, hands, mouth had ached unceasingly for four days—and it was Sally Jay's fault.

  "Let her stew," Meagan remarked. "Some friend she has turned out to be!"

  "You might tell her the truth about us and set her mind at ease." He smiled devilishly, drawing her nearer as they walked. "That is... if you absolutely cannot wait until tomorrow to have me!"

  "Conceited beast!" she accused happily. Violet eyes turned up to gaze at the hard, tantalizing lines of his mouth. "It's a tempting thought, but I could never unravel all of the truth to Sally; she might think worse of us both if she heard it. No... I'm certain that this is the better way. 'Bachelor rogue laid low by true, tempestuous love!'" Meagan laughed in the spring sunshine. "When she sees you at the church tomorrow, her mind will be at rest."

  "I'll try not to disappoint either of you," Lion grinned, and Meagan cuffed his arm. The number of pedestrians had thinned considerably by this time as people turned in different directions, and Lion looked ahead to see Sally conversing with little Peter. Quickly, he pulled a startled Meagan off into the tiny court to their left. A large willow tree obligingly offered concealment.

  "Lion!" Meagan exclaimed. "What are you—"

  Hard-muscled arms encircled her, drew her against the length of his body and upward to meet lips that seared her own. Eagerly she responded, starved for the delicious savagery of his kiss, her fingers tracing the familiar pattern of muscles on his back. Lean fingers sought swelling breasts; aroused maleness pressed the sobbing core of her own desire.

  "Christ! It has been so long! This is the worst torture I have ever been subjected to!" Lion whispered, his breath fiery against her soft neck.

  Meagan was flushed with feverish yearning, but she realized that it was impossible to ease their desire now. "I know what you mean!" she moaned, managing a shaky smile that pierced Lion's heart.

  "I may not live until tomorrow," he predicted dramatically, fingers teasing her spine. "They may have to carry me into the church... I'll be permanently disabled and you will be too embarrassed to claim me!"

  "Lion, you could arrive in a sedan chair, wearing a British uniform and white periwig, powdered and patched and taking snuff, and I would still claim you!"

  They grinned at one another; then Lion feigned a scowl. "I had planned to turn you over my knee the first moment we were alone, dear South. Do not imagine that you can use your charms to divert me indefinitely, for that masquerade which you practiced on me shall not—" He swallowed as Meagan stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against his jaw above the snowy cravat. "That is—the deception—" She pulled his head down, her tongue touched his teeth, and the conversation was ended.

  Eventually, they managed to straighten their clothes and emerge into the sunlight. In the distance, a voice called, "Meagan? Meagan!"

  Lion groaned. "Let's go for a walk," he proposed to his startled companion.

  "But Sally will be worried sick!"

  "Meagan, I am a grown man and little Sally Jay does not frighten me in the least." He paused. "I'll simply have John lock her in her room until the wedding!"

  Laughing, Meagan allowed him to lead her between the houses, away from Broadway toward Greenwich Street. Since their reunion, they had had little or no opportunity for extended conversation, for there was always a chance that they might be overheard. They began to walk aimlessly, interrupting one another as they discussed all that had transpired in the past fortnight. Lion had dozens of questions about her abduction and escape, after which he answered all of hers about Clarissa and her mysterious ending. The touchy part came when he tried to explain the reason for his presence in Clarissa's New York room, but Meagan was not anxious for an argument. He had thought Meagan dead and was in pain—it was easy enough for her to understand. Knowing that he had broken his engagement to Priscilla with the intent of marrying Meagan South, housekeeper, lit a fire in her soul that nothing could dim.

  After two hours, they finished their conversation on a bench next to Bowling Green, where the Dutch had once set up their Tenpins. Meagan held Lion's hand, rested her cheek against his shoulder, and told him the story of Meagan Sayers. Her voice caught when she spoke of Pecan Grove, describing it vividly. No flower or horse or friend among the slaves was omitted, and by the time she had finished, Lion's mind was busy.

  "Sweetheart, in these past days of blinding love, I seem to have forgotten to tell you something. James Wade gave me some news about your Pecan Grove that is seeming more interesting by the moment..."

  ***

  May fourth was a glorious day. New York had quieted down as the visitors returned to their hometowns, and now there was a residue of hope and friendliness in the spring sunshine.

  St. Paul's Chapel bordered Broadway on the west, but the west porch faced the Hudson River and all that separated the church from the glistening blue water was a series of grassy slopes. Although there was no spire, the building was an excellent example of the Georgian-Classic Revival style with a handsome columned portico. Farther down Broadway stood the charred ruins of Trinity Church, a victim of the fire of 1776.

  Anxiously, Meagan waited in an anteroom. Smith, who had been summoned by a rider paid well by Lion, stood behind her arranging the fragile, Belgian lace veil. Meagan positively glowed. Her gown was simple, fashioned of soft white muslin with a lace-on-silk sash that merely served to emphasize her unique, natural beauty. Her skin had never looked creamier, her hair glossier, or her cheeks more becomingly rosy. Impulsively, she turned to embrace Smith.

  "Thank you so much for coming. You have been such a loyal friend. I am only sorry I couldn't tell you the truth about myself—or Lion."

  "Don't worry about that!" Smith admonished. "All's well that ends well... and besides, I never felt any reason to pry into your personal affairs. All I ever wanted was to see you happy."

  "No one in the world could be happier than I am!" exclaimed Meagan.

  "Will you be returning to Philadelphia soon?"

  "Yes, but only for a short while. As much as I hate to be away from Markwood Villa, Lion is determined that we should spend some time at Pecan Grove. He is paying off all of Daddy's debts, so the plantation remains in my name. Lion wants to see it and take care of whatever work needs to be done."

  "What about his political ambitions?"

  Meagan made a face. "He claims that it is no longer important—that when he thought he had lost me because of his ambition, it just withered away. But I know better. He is just worn out emotionally. At least he has learned to be patient, and I am certain that after a few months he will begin to crave politics again." Her eyes danced as she leaned closer. "Actually, I am rather set on the idea myself. I got quite excited about the new government—enough to leave Lion so that he might have his chance—and I hope that one day he will be able to serve. I know he would be brilliant!"

  "I'm sure you are right," Smith agreed, smiling. "With you by his side, he cannot lose."

  "Oh, it's good to hear you say that! I've worried so about this mess he's made of his private life..."

  "Don't be silly!" A voice chided from the doorway. It was Priscilla Reems, lovely as usual in bottle-green silk. "It's been a fortunate end for us all. Meagan... I've been wanting to apologize to you for... everything."


  Feeling warm toward the world, Meagan went and hugged her oldest friend. "Never mind. As Smith says, 'All's well that ends well.' Are you happy?"

  "Oh, yes. Happier than I could have been with Lion. He despised me, Meagan, because I stood between you two and he knew it was his own fault. Marcus explained to me. He says, 'Whatever you cannot understand, you cannot possess.' I was miserable with Lion because I couldn't begin to understand him."

  "And Marcus?"

  "Marcus is good to me. He likes me, I think, and he wants the life I want. We sort of think alike."

  Meagan grinned in relief. "Good. You know, we are going back to Fairfax County for a while, so Marcus will have a clear field until Lion returns."

  "I'll tell him," Priscilla smiled. "Perhaps when you two return, you can pay us a visit. Our new summer home isn't too far from—what is it? Markville? At any rate, I see no reason why Marcus and Lion shouldn't be good friends, just like you and me. I would think that they would have a great deal in common!"

  "Well, that may be the problem. Perhaps they have too much in common," Meagan smiled ironically. "By the way, don't you think you can woo Bramble away from me while we are gone, because she and Wong will be coming with us!"

  "Anne is the person who will be hatching that scheme! You'll have to tell her; she's right outside in the chapel."

  Meagan's mouth dropped open in surprise, just as there was a knock at the door. Smith opened it to admit Brown. He was dressed in his best tan suit, blushing and holding a small bouquet of flowers.

  "Kevin!" Meagan exclaimed in delight. "How sweet of you to come all this way!"

  "I just wanted to tell you congratulations, Miss Sayers." It was killing him, remembering how he had kissed her on the Binghams' lawn. "The captain asked me to give you these."

  He thrust the nosegay into her hands and Meagan saw that the flowers, mixed with baby white roses, were blue forget-me-nots. Oh, Lion! she thought, then turned to kiss Brown's cheek.

  "Thank you, Kevin. You're a special friend, and I don't want anything to change that. No matter what my surname is—South, Sayers, or Hampshire—you must always call me Meagan."

  The organ began to play then and everyone rushed around the room at once, while Meagan laughed. Smith checked her veil, then the three visitors hastened back to their pews. The chapel was nearly empty, but the guests that were present made an impressive group. The Jays were there, the Hamiltons, the Powels, James Wade, David Humphreys, Charles Thomson, Madison, and Randolph, as well as assorted relatives of the guests. Priscilla slipped into a space between her brother and William Bingham.

  "Where's your precious Marcus Reems today?" James hissed.

  Priscilla gave him a haughty glance, immediately rising to her own defense. She was certain that James thought her a fool for allowing Lion to escape, and she was determined to prove him, as well as Anne Bingham, wrong.

  "He wanted to come, of course, but he and Lion are not the warmest of friends. I shouldn't be telling you this, but... I think he is out arranging a surprise for me. He is so good—a thousand times more attentive than your precious Lion ever could be! I just feel sorry for Meagan..."

  "What's this grand surprise?" James prompted skeptically.

  "Well... I think he is having some jewelry made for me. "I saw him counting something last night when I came in to dress for dinner, but he hid them in a handkerchief in his drawer. I confess I peeked, and what do you think was inside? A half-dozen of the sweetest little rubies! I'm certain he is going to buy some other larger ones and then have a necklace or bracelet made—possibly an entire parure! It would be just like him!"

  James, shocked and delighted by this revelation, opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the music intensified and all heads turned to seek out the bride.

  Meagan stood at the far end of the center aisle, looking enchantingly radiant, one tiny hand resting on the arm of President Washington. Clad in the same brown broadcloth suit he had worn on Inauguration Day, he appeared solemn but for the gentle twinkle in his deep-set eyes.

  At the end of the aisle, Lion waited, and Meagan's heart turned over at the sight of him. The elaborate pulpit and surrounding columns were white and gold, colors that made a perfect backdrop for Lion. He wore a frock coat the color of champagne, with a tawny vest, and elegant linen shirt and cravat. His hair was a burnished gold against bronzed skin and he seemed incredibly tall and handsome. The morning sun poured like fire through the stained glass windows, and when Meagan reached Lion's side, she looked up at him and smiled with all the love that burned within her heart.

  President Washington stood back as Lion reached for her hand.

  About the Author

  Twenty-five-year-old Cynthia Challed Wright interrupted her college education in 1972 to marry her high school sweetheart, Richard, and follow where the Navy took him. Their daughter, Jennifer, was born in 1973, after which Cynthia decided to redirect her old writing hobby into the creation of a book. She never did return to college, but, to her endless pleasure, she now has the career she dreamed of since childhood.

  The Wrights currently live in New London, Connecticut, where Richard is an officer on a nuclear submarine. Cynthia enjoys antiques, photography, traveling, her old house, but most of all her husband and daughter.

  Caroline, her first attempt at a full-length novel, was written during spare moments while raising her daughter. Most of Cynthia's family and friends tried to dissuade her from submitting the manuscript to publishers, but encouraged by Richard, she put it in the mail. Initially it was rejected, but on a spring day she received a phone call from a publishing house that was interested. Caroline was published a year ago. Due to its success and an enormous amount of requests from delighted readers, she wrote Touch the Sun. Cynthia is currently finishing her third book.

  Table of Contents

  PART I

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  PART II

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  PART III

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  PART IV

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two