Speak Only Love

by Deana James

  He laughed again. "Tell me," he begged excitedly. "Tell me how it happened." He leaned his forehead against hers. The tip of his nose touched hers. He pursed his lips and touched hers in a tender brush of a kiss.

  She could not think how to begin. She could only repeat stupidly. "Piers, I love you."

  "This is a miracle," he whispered. He kissed her again. "I can't believe it's happened."

  She raised herself from his chest and placed both hands to her cheeks. She had managed so long without words that they did not come readily to mind. "I saw you were in danger." She hesitated. "You couldn't see me. The night was too dark. I couldn't reach you. The path was too steep. I screamed."

  "I heard the scream," he breathed. "I started forward. Just at that moment a shot slammed into my side. You probably saved my life." He caught her hands and kissed them. "You saved my life."

  "I found where you fell." She shuddered visibly. "Beddoes is dead."

  "No loss to mankind."

  "I knew where you had gone. I remembered the cave." She put her hands on his ribs. "Are you sure you're not badly hurt?"

  "A scratch. Really, it bled hardly at all. It's already healing."

  She looked at him doubtfully remembering the splashes in the sand. Her hands spread over his chest. Fascinated, entranced with the texture of his skin, she caressed him, satisfying herself that he was alive.

  His eyes darkened at her touch. With quite a different motive, he raised himself to kiss her on the mouth caressing her soft interior and touching her tongue tip with his. Joy turned to desire despite his ordeal. His hand found her warm breast to feel the beating of her heart through the fabric of her blouse and jacket.

  A blazing fire warmed him from within. He had never felt such need and such inordinate desire for fulfillment. So close had they both been to death that he wanted an affirmation of life. Certain as of nothing in his life before, he believed they would create life between them. "Let me love you."

  The unadorned words sent an electric shock through her own body. "Yes," she whispered. Now she could speak. Now she could tell him how she loved him. "Yes. Oh, yes!"

  They needed no tantalizing touches, no slow awakening of desire. Neither wanted it. His chest was already naked. She pulled the front of her jacket from the buttons in one swift motion.

  "Yes!"

  The blouse beneath tore in her haste.

  "Yes!"

  Her whole being was suffused in blazing desire. She pulled her skirt and petticoats up about her thighs. -Yes!!"

  "My god, Vivian," he whispered. He tore his own clothing apart and pushed her down into the sand. Unconscious of any pain, he rolled above her and drove himself into her.

  A cry came from her. High and keening, pain and pleasure so intense that she set her teeth against it.

  He pulled out and drove in again.

  "Yes. Oh, my love—”

  "I—love—you."

  "Yes!"

  They exploded together and he caught her first scream of pure pleasure in his mouth.

  ************************************

  The housekeeper was angry defiance personified. "You won't get away with any of this," she snarled. "Lock me up, will you? In this house that I’ve kept for years."

  "You will leave here within the hour," Piers told her coldly. "I'll send you in the carriage to Exeter. After that you're on your own."

  "The earl—”

  "Larne is dead," Piers interrupted coldly. "I might feel kindly toward you for what you did for him if you had not treated my mother with such cruelty and contempt."

  "Jack—”

  "He's dead, too. Cut to pieces on the beach when he tried to fight the dragoons. Soldiers that he assured me were nowhere in the vicinity-I might add."

  "I'm pregnant."

  "You might be pregnant by Jack Beddoes's child. You and he were married after all. But you can't be more than a couple of months gone." He looked at her critically. "If you expect me to believe that my father in his condition was capable of impregnating you, you must take me for a fool."

  She faltered, then her dark eyes stabbed at him. "The Riding Officers will be interested in what I have to say."

  "You can't say much without implicating yourself. And I doubt at any rate they'd attach much credence to the word of a disgruntled servant, turned off without a character."

  "Piers," Vivian interposed softly.

  Mrs. Felders stared at her. "You can talk."

  "Yes. It's all coming back to me."

  "Then tell him. He can't treat me like this."

  "I can't tell him to do anything. I can ask him. And I do. Piers, give her some kind of reference."

  He looked around him in distaste. "I remember the condition of this house when you came here. I can't say anything that would be of any help to her."

  Felders's face flushed darkly. She clenched her fists at her side. "The earl was pleased."

  Vivian nodded. "Then tell the truth, Piers. Say she served the Earl of Larnaervon until his death."

  He shook his head angrily.

  "Please, love."

  He glanced at Felders. The color had drained from her face. She stood like a stone, her mouth pinched, her eyes narrowed. How could the earl ever have found this woman remotely attractive? "Very well."

  She seemed to relax fractionally. Then she lifted her chin. "I’ve got some money coming to me."

  "I’ll see that it's taken care of," Vivian said.

  Felders flashed her a contemptuous look. "I'm not talking about my pittance here. Jack had a share coming."

  Piers shook his head. "The operation is over. The Spanish Girl is gone back to France with the few men aboard who survived. The last two expeditions have been complete and dismal failures. Whatever he gave you before was all he was entitled to."

  "You're lying."

  "Get out."

  "You're cheating me!" she cried.

  His anger quickened. He rose from behind his father's desk, leaning across it, his wounded side drawing and pulling painfully. "You'd better pack your things while my wife is still willing to pay your wages and write you a character. Say one more word to me, and you'll be turned out of the house in the clothes you stand in."

  She opened her mouth. He raised his hand.

  She took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Without another word she turned and left. The door to the library slammed behind her.

  "Don't see her again, Vivian," he warned. "Write your letter and hand it and the purse to Millard to give to her. You don't have to listen to any more of her lies and vileness."

  "You don’t have to tell me," she agreed softly. "Now sit down and rest."

  ************************************

  "Captain MacPherson, sir." Millard looked un­certainly from one to the other.

  His face pale but otherwise composed, Piers nodded. "Wait a couple of minutes, then show him in, Millard." He adjusted his coat over the bandage beneath his shirt. "Does anything show, Vivian?"

  She touched his shoulder. "Is this really necessary, Piers? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

  He covered her hand with his own. "I should be. And I promise to go straightway after he leaves, but this is important. Let's dispel once and for all the idea that I might in some way have been mixed up in the smuggling."

  "You're hurting."

  "Yes," he told her simply. "But there's an end in sight. One more effort and then well never have to go through this again."

  She bent and kissed him on the lips. "I don't like this."

  "As soon as he leaves, I’ll let you take me up to bed and—”

  "Captain MacPherson," Millard stood back from the door.

  "Ah, Captain MacPherson." Piers rose and held out his hand.

  The officer looked at him sharply, plainly taken aback at seeing him. "You're looking a little pale, Lord Polwycke."

  "Kind of you to notice. I'm still not over that accident in Scotland. Devil of a thing breaking one's shoulder and then getting pneum
onia in the bargain. If not for my dear wife, I might have cashed in my chips."

  The blue Scottish eyes slid over her warmly. "You're a very lucky man."

  Vivian rose and came to him as Piers stepped back and lowered himself wincing into his chair. "Captain MacPherson."

  The sound of her voice staggered him. "M-milady."

  "I can talk again. It's all come back to me. In one night."

  He recovered himself. "Why this is wonderful. Wonderful."

  "I can at last thank you for all you have done for us in capturing the smugglers. I told my husband when I returned from my ride today."

  "Right, MacPherson. We are in your debt. They had been creating havoc among the local people. My father was too ill to do anything about them. But now that he's gone, they were to have been my first task. And now you've done it for me."

  The captain looked from one to the other. The lady smiled at her husband with such sweetness, such pride. He returned her look with such tenderness. Mac-Pherson felt their passion like a knife to his vitals. His last tiny shreds of hope vanished in the blaze of their love. He tried to clear his throat, but the lump remained making speaking difficult. "I'm glad to be of such service to you both. Think of it as a belated wedding present and allow me to wish you happy."

  Vivian turned to him. Her own tender nature ached for him. They had met too late. She had found her love and he must go and find his. She put her hands in his. "We wish you good fortune, too, Captain MacPherson. You and your little son deserve it."

  "Aye, Reiver. This is not the proper kind of life for a lad. My job's too dangerous. Perhaps I’ll take this time to leave England. I’ve heard there's opportunity aplenty in America."

  "You'll always be welcome here," Piers said gener­ously. He slipped his arm around his wife's waist and drew her against his side. The currents between this tall Scotsman and Vivian were making him uncomfort­able. "But, of course, if you must be on your way—”

  "Piers," she chided.

  "He's right, milady," MacPherson agreed. "Time to be on my way. God bless you both."

  She held out her hands again. "The truest friend," she murmured. They were the words she had written in the sand that day on the beach.

  Despite her husband's scowl, he lifted her hands to his lips and took the memory of their touch away with him.

  ************************************

  The door was pushed wide open, driving Millard back against the wall. "You needn't announce us, my good man. She'll be glad we've come back to help her."

  Worthing Barnstaple, all six feet six of him, huffed and puffed to keep up with the younger man. "Right you are, Sebastian. She will need financial advice."

  He threw a contemptuous look over his shoulder. "Just so you don't forget that I’ll be her guardian."

  "Barnstaple and Rowling will continue to manage as they have always done in the past," came the affronted declaration.

  Sebastian Dawlish surveyed the entry hall with some disdain. "This place doesn't compare to Stone Glenn, of course, but I'm sure that much can be done with it."

  "Right you are. Right. Now that she's inherited everything as Countess of Larnaervon, those estates will have to be managed as well." Barnstaple's portly belly fairly jiggled with his eagerness to add to his business.

  Vivian stopped midway down the stairs to stare at them in disgust and some amusement.

  Sebastian looked up and saw her first. "My dear. We’ve heard the sad news about the death of your father-in-law. And the capture of the smugglers. And the death of their leader. Now I may tell you that I- and I alone-was instrumental in setting up that little coup. I have always had your best interests at heart, Vivian."

  "Always!" Barnstaple interposed.

  "Naturally, we knew you'd need help in settling all these problems with your estates." Dawlish started up the stairs toward her. His eyes were dark with menace, daring her to try to protest his guardianship. "I wouldn't want you to be burdened with anything that would undermine your delicate health. I'm prepared to resume my care of you."

  "But I don’t need you to care for me."

  The words drove him back. He clutched the banister to keep from falling. "You spoke!"

  "Yes. Isn't it fortunate? I recovered my speech in the course of all the danger and excitement of the smugglers' arrest. Shocking things happened. I believe that I needed only a shock."

  Barnstaple pulled out his handkerchief. "How wonderful!" His tone was hollow. "How perfectly marvelous for you! But, of course, you mustn't strain your voice. It might not be permanent."

  "I'm quite sure that it is."

  Dawlish's eyes shifted from side to side. He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his mouth. "But you never can tell. And you say you've had a shock. Perhaps you need to see a doctor immediately."

  "I have no need of a doctor. I never felt better in my life. However, I wonder how you came to have any information about smugglers. Did you perhaps have some inside information?"

  Sebastian advanced menacingly. "I knew you were in danger here, my dear. That marriage was forced upon you when you were not in your right mind. I put my own money to work bribing one Jack Beddoes to supply information about a shipment of contraband goods. Many members of the band were caught that night."

  "And then I, my dear girl, supplied—um—extra money to certain magistrates and high-ranking offi­cers to order Captain MacPherson to patrol these beaches regularly." Barnstaple started up the stairs, too. "We’ve really had your best interests at heart, my dear girl. You should be overcome with gratitude."

  "And so I am." She smiled slightly. "But I have to tell you that your trap last night resulted in the death of Jack Beddoes."

  Sebastian sniffed. "No loss to the world. So long as the chief of the smugglers was killed as well."

  "But he was the chief of the smugglers."

  The two looked at each other. "I'm sure you are mistaken, my dear. Your loyalty does you credit, but we know otherwise," Sebastian sneered. "It's obvious to me that you are not in your right mind. You need to see a doctor immediately."

  "If she needs to see a doctor, Sebby, I’ll take her to one."

  "Polwycke!"

  "Larnaervon," Piers corrected softly.

  "Larnaervon. You're alive."

  "As you see."

  Barnstaple, his sagging jowls quivering, stared at Piers as if he had seen a ghost. "I suppose this means that you'll be using another solicitor."

  "My husband and I will decide upon one," Vivian informed him sweetly.

  He nodded and turned back down the stairs. Shoulders slumping he walked to the door. With a superior smile Millard handed him his hat.

  "This isn't legal." Sebastian tried one more time. "You're a criminal. You led the smugglers."

  "How can he possibly have led the smugglers when he was in bed with me the whole night long?" Vivian asked.

  "That's a lie."

  "Come, Vivian." Piers turned her around and they started back up the stairs together. "Show yourself out, Sebby."

  "You can’t get away with this." He followed them a couple of steps.

  Piers faced him at the top of the stairs. "Sebby, may I suggest you not follow us any farther unless you have developed a taste for voyeurism?"

  "Vivian!"

  She shook her head. "Sebastian. If I needed a guardian, it would not be you."

  "Leave, Sebby," Piers advised. "And she won't sue you for all the money you've siphoned off the estate during the year you had her imprisoned in the abbey."

  Vivian nodded. She slipped her arm around his waist. "Just leave."

  He shot them a look of frustrated anger. "You've no right to her."

  Piers smiled. "No, I've no right to her. But I love her and she loves me. So she's promised to stay with me. And if she doesn't like me after a while, she can leave. But I've no right to her."

  Vivian turned in his arms. "And I've no right to you. But I love you."

  "Vivian."

 
; She looked at Sebastian's shocked expression. Then grinned. "Piers—” She put her arms around him and kissed him with mouth and hands and body. When she drew back, she laughed. "It looks as though he requires proof, Piers. Do you think we might provide him with some? We did it once before."

  Piers laugh floated back down to the angry Sebastian. "In flagrante delicto, my dear. With pleasure."

  Epilogue

  Stone Glenn

  April 1820

  If you can find your way to the heart of the boxwood maze, you'll find your heart's desire.

  Piers read the note again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "When did you receive this?"

  "Her ladyship came down the stairs only a short time before you rode up, sir," the butler informed him. "I believe she watches from the upstairs window. She can see beyond the terrace to the stables. It's been her special trick since she was just a little girl."

  "Watching the horses?"

  "And the riders, as well, your lordship." The man hesitated. "May I say again, sir, how very glad we are to have our lady back. The months she was away, we sorely missed her. She belongs here." A satisfied smile flickered across his austere features, then vanished. He cleared his throat hastily. "And we welcome you as well."

  "Why thank you, Smithers." Piers folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. "I’ll just join my wife in the garden. You wouldn't happen to know the secret of the boxwood maze?"