Tender Fortune

by Judith E. French

  She lay as if in a dream, her head against the satin coat, listening to the cadence of his heartbeat and the rasp of his breathing as a horse was found and saddled for Master Drummond.

  Then he was mounted and riding at a full gallop across the snowy fields with Charity held tightly before him in the saddle. The falling snow turned the familiar countryside to a wonderland of frost and shimmering enchantment. The horse's hooves thudded against the frozen earth, and the wind enveloped them in an eerie mantle of unreality.

  She could not ask where he was taking her or why. It was enough to be with him now, at this moment. Her soul cried out with joy, her flesh trembled at his touch. He had said he could not live without her. She could not live without him. Jamie was as necessary to her as breathing; without him she did not wish to live. If he would have her, she must be with him, no matter the cost.

  She had no idea whether it was minutes or hours before the animal slowed his pace. She opened her eyes as the force of the wind was blocked. Jamie dismounted and lifted her down, shouting for a groom to take the horse. One arm around her shoulders, he hurried her through the snow toward the house.

  Bold Venture. He had brought her home. "Jamie," she started. Who else was in the house? "I don't—"

  "Hush, don't talk." He lifted a candle from the wall holder and led her to the stairs. "We're alone here, darling."

  The candle flame cast a circle of light before them. Jamie paused on the bottom step and let his hand caress her neck and throat, lingering at the rise of her breast. Her pulse quickened and she gasped at the sensitivity of her skin. His fingers were cold, but her flesh felt only heat. Her body trembled as he bent to kiss the base of her throat and to follow the neckline of the azure gown. A hand slid beneath the cloak to stroke the small of her back and then slid down to fondle her buttocks.

  Jamie moaned deep in his throat and the candle wavered precariously. "Witch," he uttered softly. He wrenched himself free from the embrace and urged her up the steps, pausing to open the first door at the top of the landing.

  Heat from a glowing fire warmed their faces. Jamie blew out the candle and set it on a stand beside the bed. Charity began to shiver as he removed her cloak and pulled her to the hearth. He took her hands in his and nibbed them briskly. She looked up into his face and slipped her arms around his neck.

  "Why did you do it? Halifax? You can't believe I care anything for him."

  Jamie chuckled as he began to unlace her gown. "Halifax has only a soldier's pay. I knew he was no competition for your hand, sweet. It was a good excuse to call him out. One of those he hanged yesterday was a friend of mine—the black man who brought us the horses outside of Chestertown. I'd have killed the captain gladly if I could." He cupped one released breast in his hand and kissed the swelling nipple, encircling the tender bud with the tip of his tongue.

  Charity bit back a cry of exquisite delight and melted against him, her hands tracing the curves of his shoulders and neck, her fingers trailing down to fumble with the tie at the back of his shirt. Her breathing slowed and deepened, ribbons of sweet fire spilling through her veins as Jamie sucked gently at each erect nipple in turn, rubbing them to tingling rigidity with his roughened fingertips.

  Tremors of passion shook her body as he slowly undressed her, trailing hot, moist kisses down her exposed flesh, creating an emptiness within her that must be filled, a heat that threatened to consume her, body and soul. "Jamie," she whispered, "Jamie." The last of her clothing fell to the floor and his lips brushed the golden curls at the base of her belly. She would have fallen then if he had not caught her and carried her effortlessly to the bed.

  He loomed above her, his slim, muscular body outlined in the firelight. "Sweet Charity," he murmured.

  Her fingers brushed his flesh. "Jamie," she moaned.

  "Hush, darling." He stripped off his own garments quickly. "I'm here. I'll always be here," he promised. Then he was beside her, pulling the covers over them and holding her tightly against him.

  His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunging deep in the velvet recesses, engulfing her in a whirlpool of unsatisfied longing. Her hands sought the source of her release, stroking and caressing the length of his manhood.

  His whispered words of love filled her brain as his sensuous touch fanned the fires in her blood. She pulled him down to her, opening to receive him and meeting glorious thrust with thrust, uniting them in a blazing conflagration of unrestrained passion.

  * * *

  "Charity."

  She opened her eyes to see Jamie propped on one elbow, watching her, a lazy smile of satisfaction on his lips.

  "Good morning, sweet."

  She blinked and sat up, pulling the cover over her rosy breasts. Morning light spilled through the snow-clouded windows. "It's daylight," she gasped. Memories of the long night's lovemaking flooded her mind and she blushed. "I've spent the entire night," she protested. "Everyone will know! I'm ruined."

  Jamie chuckled and nuzzled the warm places of her neck.

  "News of our betrothal will be so rampant, I doubt your virtue—or lack of it—will cause many ripples in Tidewater society." He kissed her bottom lip and ran a warm hand down her thigh.

  "Jamie!" She sat upright again. "Our betrothal? You mean..."

  "I mean I suppose I must give in before you attempt to involve yourself in yet another loveless marriage. For a fortune hunter with your charms, you could do far better. Are you certain you still want me?" Mischief lurked behind the cinnamon eyes. "I vowed I would never take a penniless maid. But then again, I suppose you are no maid."

  "James Drummond!" she cried, seizing the pillow and beating him about the head and shoulders. "You are no gentleman!"

  He seized her and they rolled over and over, entwining arms and legs in a delightful tangle. Charity began to tickle him, and his laughter turned to helpless choking. She climbed astride his waist and pinned his wrists to the mattress.

  "Now I've got you," she declared triumphantly. She laid her cheek against the curling mat of his chest; her tongue flicked over the flat masculine nipple.

  In one lithe movement, he flipped her over and lay atop her, his mouth coming down in a delicious kiss. "Who has whom?"

  Kiss followed kiss, growing in intensity until both forgot the hour or the place, taking joy in their tender lovemaking, and then sleeping until the day was half gone.

  Charity awakened to the smell of bacon under her nose.

  "Wake up, wench." He waved a plate of eggs and bacon before her and then carried it to a small table before the fireplace. "There's a dressing gown at the foot of the bed. It's mine, so it will be a little large, but it will cover your shameful condition." His twinkling eyes never left her as she scrambled out of bed and into the gown. It dragged on the floor behind her as she joined him at the table.

  A plate of biscuits and goblets of milk stood beside the full dishes. "I'm starved," Charity admitted. "Did you cook this yourself?"

  "Hardly. My biscuits would do as millstones if I could get them large enough."

  They ate in silence, grateful for the blazing fire. Outside, snow still filtered down. Charity finished every bite on her plate and downed three biscuits with honey.

  "If you always eat that way, I can see I'll have to be rich to feed you," he said.

  Charity calmly buttered a fourth biscuit and threw half of it at him, striking him squarely in the center of the forehead. "Miser! To count each bite your betrothed swallows!" She giggled, too full of happiness for his teasing to affect her. Betrothed. Silently she repeated the word. She was the betrothed of James Drummond.

  He threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Stop! I surrender! You take unfair advantage, mistress." He opened his arms and she ran into them, sitting on his lap and giving him a lingering kiss.

  "Oh, Jamie." She sighed. "Is it for real?" Her eyes grew large and moist. "It is no game, is it? You will truly wed me?"

  He ran his fingers through the flaxen hair and kissed each eyelid and then the
tip of her nose. "You look like a little girl in her mother's gown." The bottom lip enticed him and he kissed that too.

  "Jamie, tell me," she begged. She pushed back to look into his eyes. "This is serious. Will you make an honest woman of me or not?"

  "I've not slept a full night since we parted," he admitted quietly. "When Elizabeth came to tell me that Whiggsby had laid suit I was furious." The cinnamon eyes darkened and he traced her delicate cheekbone with one finger. "I'll probably make a damned poor husband, and I can guarantee you no easy future."

  Tears filled Charity's eyes and threatened to spill over. "I think that's a beautiful proposal, sir," she murmured. "If that's what it is?"

  Seizing her about the waist, he stood and put her in the opposite chair. Gracefully he dropped to his knees and lifted her hand to his lips. Charity tried not to giggle as his voice became a thick Irish brogue.

  "Mistress Caroline. By all the saints! 'Twould be a great honor if ye would consider becomin' me wife. I have nought to offer ye but one poor pig, an' him with a terrible cough. That an' me father's recipe for poteen, a family secret it is and strong enough to raise the dead."

  "I will!" She threw herself upon him with such force they both rolled on the floor. "I'll be your wife, Jamie, for ever and ever, no matter who you are!"

  He pinned her to the floor with kisses. "Oh, so you don't like poor Patty O'Flynn? Would ye rather be the lassie o' Captain Angus MacKenzie?" His voice changed to that of the Highlands. "Or do you prefer James Drummond, natural son of the Earl of DunCannon?" The affected lisp sent her into convulsions, and he carried her helpless to the bed.

  In one smooth motion, Jamie pulled the dressing gown off her shoulders and began to kiss the alabaster shoulders and the curve of her breast. "God, woman, but you do drive me mad," he whispered.

  I love you, she mouthed silently. More than my own soul. She fell back against the pillows and held out her arms to him. "I'll be a good wife to you," she promised.

  "If you don't make a widow of yourself before we're wed," he growled, nibbling at her neck. "You're insatiable, wench. You'll be the death of me."

  "Sure an' I might," she crooned huskily. "But I cannot think of a better way to die."

  They rose again in midafternoon. Jamie left the room and returned with a plain woolen gown and cloak.

  "I must return to Widow's Endeavor," he explained, "and it wouldn't do to have you still in your Christmas ballgown."

  Charity's gray-green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Whose clothes are those?"

  "My housekeeper."

  "The old one or that pretty maid who let me in the day I tried to return Duchess?"

  Jamie grinned. "Jealous, are you? That saucy wench is wed to a shoemaker in Annapolis." He grew serious. "I don't dally with my people, Charity. I'm not Lord DunCannon."

  She flushed. "I never said you did. I just didn't want to stare into her face wearing her gown. Coming downstairs at this time of the day, I mean." She broke off. "Why are you sending me back to Elizabeth? I want to be here with you."

  "Trust me, Charity." He kissed the top of her head. "I said I would make you my wife, and I will. But there are ships that sail with the spring tides, ships that bring me great profit and great danger. If all goes well, I stand to make enough that we won't be dependent on my father's generosity."

  "I will marry you now and take my chances," she said stubbornly.

  "We will marry in June."

  She sighed at the finality of his words. "I don't see why I must go back to Widow's Endeavor. You said I was ruined anyway."

  He laughed. "You said you were ruined. Elizabeth is a wily old fox. She'll have covered for you. Doubtless the shock of your intended's near duel has sent you to your bed."

  "Alone, I hope."

  "What?" James the fop was back. "Do you question the virtue of Mistress Caroline Smythe-Tarylton?" he lisped. "Were you a gentleman, I should call you out upon a field of honor." He drew himself up stiffly. "She is, I assure you, a maiden most pure."

  Giggling, Charity dressed in the borrowed clothing. "It's snowing too hard. You can't take me home."

  "It's not snowing at all. The shoes, wench." He slapped her playfully on the bottom. "You'll have to ride in your slippers. My housekeeper's clogs would fall off your feet."

  "If you truly mean to wed me in June, I'll stay," she offered.

  "If I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it right. We will be married by the reverend, or by the priest if you insist. But I'll not have my neighbors snickering behind your back. You will go back to Elizabeth's tender care until I make you my wife."

  "But you are the one who said they wouldn't dare," she challenged.

  Jamie mumbled something under his breath and pointed to the door. Momentarily chastised, she obeyed.

  "June is not so very far away," she assured herself. The glow returned to her eyes. Not long at all.

  * * *

  "So you say!" Elizabeth faced Jamie across the desk of her office. Charity had never seen her so angry. "Twice you have done this, Jamie. I'll not have her life ruined by your whims."

  "I said I would marry her, damn it, and I will. In June."

  "How many times do you think I can lie for you to save your reputation, Caroline?" The older woman turned her accusing glare on Charity.

  "If my morals offend you, your ladyship," Charity began, defiance shining from the green eyes, "I will trouble you no more by my presence."

  "To hell with your morals!" Elizabeth snapped. "Jamie will break your heart, as well I've told you. It is your future I'm worried about. Whiggsby was so put out at that scene between Jamie and the captain that he's officially withdrawn his suit."

  Jamie flushed and put his arm around Charity. "Are you calling me a liar?"

  "Do you think I would have had Whiggsby to husband?"

  Elizabeth answered Charity. "No, I pray God you would have had the sense not to." She gripped the edge of the walnut desk until her knuckles whitened. "You two are all I have of family. It's not worthy of you, James, to speak to me in such a manner. We have been through enough together to have a higher regard for each other."

  "Then why, damn it?" he demanded. "Why do you oppose our marriage?"

  Elizabeth sank back into her chair and let her hands fall limply in her lap. She suddenly looked her age. "Because I don't believe you've driven the demons from your soul yet, Jamie. You take too many chances. You could yet end up on the gallows and take us all with you. Baiting Halifax was a stupid thing to do!"

  "Aye," he agreed. "It was. But I did want the satisfaction of putting a bullet in him," Jamie added softly.

  "I love him," Charity said. "I will have no other, with or without your permission."

  Elizabeth sighed. "Then I suppose it must be with it. I love you both too much to turn you out. But there must be no more of this sneaking about. If you wish to wed Caroline," she said firmly, "you must court her properly, James." Her voice grew husky. "Forgive an old woman her fears. I do want what is best for you."

  "I'm sorry if my actions have caused you distress," Charity said. "I didn't mean to hurt you, you've been so good to me."

  "Nonsense, I'm not looking for thanks." Elizabeth rose and went to Jamie. "It's becoming too dangerous," she said. "It's time to get out. Halifax, or someone like him, will catch you sooner or later. The Crown is serious about putting a stop to the smuggling on the Chesapeake." She touched his arm. "Sometimes retreat is the wisest course. No amount of coin will do you any good in potter's field."

  Charity suppressed a shiver. Elizabeth's words echoed her own fears. "I want a live husband," she admitted.

  A lazy smile spread across his face. "Ganging up on me, are you?"

  "You've laid Father Brady to rest," Elizabeth said. "Why not the rest of them?"

  The smile turned to a chuckle. "I've heard there are posters offering reward for information leading to his arrest. I suppose he sealed his fate when he ran from that tavern in Oxford that night... he and his accomplice
." He winked at Charity. "I'll wager Halifax was fit to chew his wig that night."

  "I'm afraid of him," Charity said. "And you should be too."

  "I respect him. There's a difference." He shrugged. "I've never pretended that I wasn't in it for the money. But the laws are wrong! That plantation Whiggsby just bought was carved out of wilderness by the family that lost it. Elizabeth knows well there are planters who have put a lifetime into their land. What price did you receive for your tobacco this fall? And what was your profit?"

  "Not enough," Lady Deale said quietly.

  "One hundred thousand hogsheads of tobacco shipped from the Chesapeake this year, tobacco worth a fortune in Europe. How much profit could you expect if you could sell directly to Holland?"

  "An extra three pounds a hogshead, more than three times my profit now." Elizabeth folded her arms. "You're telling me nothing more than I've told myself a hundred times. But the risk, Jamie..."

  "Couldn't you sell something other than tobacco?" Charity asked.

  "Wheat? Baltimore already ships more wheat flour than any other city in the Colonies, more than any other city I know. But the tax on wheat is as high as that on tobacco. We are the bond servant of Mother England." Jamie's voice took on a harshness Charity hadn't heard before. "We can expect no fair treatment at the hands of a king who isn't even of our blood."

  Elizabeth covered her lips with a finger and went to the door, opening it quickly and looking up and down the hall. She closed it firmly and turned back to Jamie. "Enough. I'll not have treason spoken in this house as well. Hold your tongue, Jamie, for God's sake."

  "There should be a James on the throne and not a George, and well you know it. It is not treason to speak the truth. I've no wish to overthrow the government. I only want the right of honest trade. And if they won't give it to me, I'll find a way around it."

  "At least promise me you'll do nothing to arouse suspicion for the next few months," Elizabeth bargained. "Until Halifax's anger fades."

  "Easy enough done, your ladyship." He grinned. "There is little traffic on the bay in winter. Mistress Caroline will have an eager suitor in attendance."