The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12)

by Mary Lancaster

  Hector Tallon.

  “I don’t understand,” Jess uttered in total bewilderment.

  “That,” said a familiar voice behind her, “is because you never do as I ask.”

  She gasped with the sheer joy that flooded her from his first syllable. Spinning around, she saw he had just stepped off the deck.

  Jon Tallon wore old, comfortable clothes. His blond hair blew back from his handsome face and no sight in the world had ever been so beautiful. Without thought or planning, she launched herself up the gangplank and threw her arms around his neck.

  *

  Jon had been prepared to be slapped, scorned, or ignored. But there was no trace in her now of the cool, disdainful young lady who had sent him away a week ago. The last thing he had expected was for her to throw herself instantly into his arms, with complete trust and instant happiness.

  Stunned, it took him an instant to close his arms around her soft, yielding body. He pressed her to him convulsively, relief at her safety warring with wonder and sudden, overwhelming lust.

  “Are you hurt?” he whispered into her hair. It smelled of lemon and pure Jess.

  “No,” she gasped. “I never thought, never imagined—you are back!”

  “Of course I am,” he said lovingly.

  But this wasn’t yet over.

  “Jonnie, I’ll thank you for the return of my betrothed,” Hector called from the quay. Still full of his own importance and despising the boy he had once bullied. Had he forgotten that Jon had fought back and won? No, he probably despised him for quite other reasons now—for working aboard a merchant ship. He had no idea.

  “Come aboard,” Jon invited.

  Jess’s head jerked up from his chest, and instinctively, he stroked her hair. Her hat had fallen off when Masters had dragged her out of the carriage.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Jon promised. “He won’t get near you.” Partially releasing her while keeping his arm at her waist, he called to Hector, “Planning on abducting her yourself?”

  Hector stepped gingerly onto the gang plank. “Well, the old man was dithering, and I really hate to wait.”

  The seamen he didn’t seem to notice actually stood aside for him.

  “Wait for what?” Jon drawled. “To borrow a bit more on your expectations once you had secured the bride?”

  “That, and the bride assured me his lordship would expire of an apoplexy if I married her.”

  Jon stepped in front of her as Hector drew nearer. He still seemed unaware that the seamen had closed in behind him, blocking his exit.

  “You really are the slug of the family, aren’t you, Hector?” Jon remarked.

  “That’s what I said,” Jess exclaimed, so clearly delighted that Jon grinned.

  Under the light from the deck lanterns. Hector flushed furiously. “Just because I won’t be viscount? Don’t count on that either!”

  Jon laughed. “Are you threatening me, Hector? On my own ship?”

  Hector curled his lips. “But it isn’t yours, is it, Jonnie? It’s Alban Lamont’s. You have nothing.”

  “Nothing you esteem, perhaps,” Jon admitted, delivering his instruction with a mere nod. At once, his sailors seized Hector, and Jon turned, drawing Jess’s hand through his arm to guide her fully onto the deck and out of the way of Hector and his captors. “But it is not nothing, as I believe you’ll find.”

  “Unhand me, this instant!” Hector blustered, trying in vain to throw off his captors. “How dare you?”

  Jon didn’t need to laugh this time. His men did it for him. Through it, John attracted the attention of his lieutenant. “This is Mr. Griggs,” he murmured to Jess. “He’ll take you to my cabin. You’re quite safe.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I need to deal with Hector,”

  Her eyes widened. Quite clearly, she wanted to ask what he was going to do, but she bit her lip and was silent. Which was just as well, because he wasn’t sure yet of his best course.

  “Oh! Mr. Masters!” she exclaimed suddenly, pulling back to look for the man who was somewhere behind Hector and the seamen. “I am so sorry I didn’t trust you, and I regret very much stabbing you! Jon, do you have a surgeon who—”

  “It’s nothing, miss,” Masters said, including Jon in his glare.

  “Come aboard,” Jon commanded, and strode after the still protesting Hector.

  As instructed, his men took Hector below and shut him in the spare cabin, which had often been used for mysterious and much more worthy guests than Hector Tallon. With a flick of his eyebrows, Jon sent the men about their business, although he allowed them a lopsided grin that was returned by all.

  Then he opened the door to find Hector standing ramrod straight in the middle of the cabin. Somehow, he had even kept his hat which he now held by his side. He looked the picture of gentlemanly outrage.

  “I will not be kept here,” Hector stated. “You have no idea the trouble you are in. I am a well-known gentleman of no little importance, and you—” He gave a contemptuous flap of his hand, “You are nothing.”

  “So you said.” Jon strolled further into the room and poured himself a glass of brandy from the almost empty decanter. There was only enough for one, so he drank it down quickly.

  “I am nobody in your world, perhaps,” he allowed, without heat. “In my own, I am somebody. Here on this ship…” His lips quirked. “I am everything,”

  Hector’s eyes flickered. He was not a man of great imagination, but even he clearly began to see that he might have misjudged, that he had made a mistake delivering himself straight into Jon’s power.

  He swallowed. “Very well, you have me fair and square. In this instance, in this place, you hold rather more cards. What do you intend to do?”

  Jon sighed. “I don’t know yet. You hired men to kill Jess and me. They tried twice.”

  “Incompetent buffoons. But they were not meant to kill—”

  “Don’t bother lying,” Jon snapped. “It would do you no good to simply injure us. You wanted us both dead so that you would be my father’s sole possible heir.”

  “Oh, nonsense. I was not even in Blackhaven when—” He broke off, perceiving the pit he’d been about to jump into.

  Jon laughed. “When what? When your man stole the hackney, jumped off, and whipped the horses into a terror? You were seen conducting business with those men, Hector. Your being somewhere else at the time proves nothing. You certainly came back quickly enough as soon as I left Blackhaven. Now that Jess was free again, you wanted to marry her yourself. One way or another.”

  “Then you didn’t go to Viscral?” Hector demanded in frustration.

  “Oh, I went. But I left people to look after Jess and my father. They wrote as soon as you appeared, and here I am. Though I gather no one actually expected Jess to go out alone in the dark. I meant to abduct her in the morning, but she rather forced both our hands there.”

  “The girl has no decorum,” Hector said waspishly. “I always said so.”

  “Thus speaks the man pursuing her at night in a hired coach, who has already tried to kill her twice. On board ship, you know, the price of such crimes is death.”

  Hector whitened. “You wouldn’t.”

  Jon grinned. “I am a good captain. I keep strict discipline. But I mention it merely to give you food for thought. Perhaps, between us, we can come up with a better solution. But understand this, Hector. I don’t forgive you. I will never forgive you.”

  With that, he turned and walked out, closing and locking the door behind him. With a shout, he called on two men to guard it. Then, feeling suffocated, he climbed up to the deck and let the wind rush past his cheeks while he cleared his mind of the noxious Hector and thought about Jess.

  He turned to Griggs. “Make ready to sail.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Left alone in the captain’s cabin, Jess tried to calm the erratic beat of her own heart before finally looking around her.

  This was where Jon lived, where he s
pent his real life, where he was happiest.

  At the center of the room was a large table on which were laid out charts and plans and various maritime instruments. When she wandered over, she saw someone had plotted a course across the Atlantic, from Whalen to some port in South America she had never heard of and didn’t want to think about.

  Hastily, she walked to his bookshelves, discovering works on natural history, exploration, native customs from Australia to China, India, Africa, and America. Among the weightier tomes, she found books on Renaissance art and architecture, Greek mythology, the Egyptian pyramids, and a complete set of Shakespeare.

  She was tempted to take several books from the shelves, but in truth, she was too curious about her current surroundings to settle down to read about others. She gazed out of the huge, sloping window at the sea, watching the crying birds playing in the wind currents and diving for food. Distant vessels bobbed on the rolling waves, tempting her. Just to run away to distant shores, to adventure and love. To Jon.

  He came back. He must love me. Mustn’t he?

  Restlessly, she moved away and walked through an open door to a smaller chamber. This was where he slept. There wasn’t much there but a large trunk and a four-poster bed bolted to the floor. All furniture had to be bolted to the floor, she assumed. On the wall opposite the bed, a portrait attracted her attention.

  Drawn in pencil, framed in simple wood, it depicted a young woman with a veil covering her hair. Undeniably beautiful in an exotic way, she had faint laughter lines around her sparkling eyes and generous mouth.

  Jess’s stomach twisted. Izlan. This was his late wife, with whom no one could compete. He kept her portrait opposite the bed, so that he would see it every night when he went to sleep, and every morning when he awoke. It must be a wonderful comfort to him…

  She walked out of the room, looking for more decoration to distract her. She found it in a beautiful seascape hung opposite the window. It reminded her of the painting in Blackhaven’s art gallery that she had wished she could buy for him. And when she looked closer, she saw that it was indeed signed Tamar. The brother of Lord Sylvester Gaunt, and of Lord Julian, Hector’s creature.

  The door opened quietly, without warning, and she swung around to face Jon. For an instant, he stood framed in the doorway, his dark eyes seeking and finding hers. Her heart lurched. She couldn’t breathe, because he was everything she had ever wanted and hadn’t even known it until now.

  She swallowed, watching as he closed the door with quiet deliberation. “I wished to buy you a painting very like this—a gift. At least I know now you would like it.”

  “Lady Bella gave me that one,” he said, without taking his eyes off Jess. “She and Alban are friends of Tamar.”

  She nodded, her heart thundering as he closed the distance between them. He came to a halt only inches from her. She was afraid he could see her trembling.

  “Am I right in thinking,” he asked, holding her gaze, “that you didn’t want me to go to Viscral at that point, or give up our engagement?”

  “Perhaps,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Am I right in thinking your affections were not all false or calculated?”

  His lips quirked. “Perhaps.” His hand lifted, cupping her cheek, and she gasped at his touch. “Do you love me, Jess?”

  Heat flooded her. “You know that I do.”

  “No, I didn’t know. All I had was hope. And fear that I was a coxcomb to trust even that much.”

  She covered his hand on her cheek. “I sent you away because I didn’t have the courage to admit it.”

  He bent his head so that she could feel his breath on her lips. “Then you admit it now? Will you marry me?”

  “If you love me,” she whispered.

  “I adore you.” His lips closed on hers, soft, wondering, and she melted into him, opening her mouth to kiss him back. His arms closed around her while they kissed with long, slow sensuality.

  Devastated as soon as he raised his head, she followed and took back his lips. Every inch of her thrilled with fire. His mouth, his arms, the hard contours of his body crushed to hers, overwhelmed her. She had wanted this for so long, and yet her fantasy hadn’t even approached this reality. She felt weak, helpless in his hold, and yet she gloried in his strength, and in her clear effect on him. His eyes had grown hot and clouded, his breath came in pants, and in spite of her trembling knees, she began to feel powerful. She could move him. He loved her.

  Emotion swamped her, scalding her eyes. He took her face between his hands, staring down at her. His turbulent gaze showed both desperation and shame.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Come, sit here and I’ll get the boy to bring us tea.”

  “I don’t want tea,” she blurted, holding on to him. “I want you, Jon.”

  Desire and something more leapt back into his face. “Oh, Jess,” he groaned. “Have you any idea how a man might interpret that?”

  “Show me,” she pleaded. “Show me how you interpret it.”

  A wicked, sensual smile played about his lips. “If I do, there will no going back. You will have to marry me.” His hands slid slowly down her sides, from her neck and shoulders, brushing her breasts and waist until they lingered on her hips, caressing. Deliberately, he pulled her against him, moving, letting her feel the physicality of his lust.

  Then he lowered his head once more and kissed her deeply. She moved with him, writhing against him, and with a muttered curse, he lifted her in his arms. His fingers plucked at her clothing even as he strode across the cabin and into the bedchamber where he dropped her on the bed and swept off her gown and chemise.

  His eyes devoured her nakedness, but she felt no shame, only a greater intensity of that thrilling power and an aching, desperate desire she had no idea how to assuage. She just knew that she needed him.

  He tore off his coat and cravat and lowered himself over her. He drew the pins from her hair, letting it fall across the pillows. He smiled. “My God, you are beautiful. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  “I’m hoping it’s much the same as you do to me,” she said shakily.

  He gave a breath of laughter and lowered his lips to the galloping pulse in her throat. “I think it might be.” His hand swept over her hip and thigh as his mouth moved down to her breasts.

  Small, inarticulate sounds escaped her throat. She burrowed beneath the soft linen of his shirt, smoothing her palms greedily over his hot, damp skin. His back seemed to undulate in response to her every caress.

  As he kissed her nipple, sucking strongly, she moaned in pleasure. “Take off your clothes,” she gasped.

  He smiled, settling over her to kiss her mouth again. “In time. There is plenty of time.”

  But as it turned out, there wasn’t. He took her with his clothes still half-on, and only afterward, as she purred with awed delight, did she remove the rest for him, kissing wherever her wicked notions took her.

  He stretched like a cat under her caresses until she came to the large shaft which had already pleasured her so astonishingly. Only then, did he pull her under him and take her again, much more slowly and sweetly, and she finally understood that this was the kind of delight that was always new and always different.

  And this time, when he reached his own massive climax, she wept with joy.

  *

  The creaking of the ship and a very pronounced rolling motion permeated her dazed, half-asleep brain. Jess lifted her cheek from Jon’s naked chest and blinked down at him. “Are we sailing?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes widened, “To South America? Jon, I can’t leave—”

  He grinned and pulled her back down to him. “No, not South America. But going out to sea for a little was part of my plan to keep you safe from Hector. I was never more frightened in my life than when I heard he had returned to Blackhaven.”

  “But doesn’t it defeat the object to have him on the ship with us?”
>
  “Well, I couldn’t leave him to run back to Blackhaven and annoy my father either.”

  She frowned. “He should stand trial for what he did. To us and to Claud.”

  “Oh, he never touched Claude. That was someone else entirely. But I take your point.” He sighed. “The old gentleman won’t like it much, dragging the Tallon name through the mud, but I suppose it is the only solution. We certainly can’t leave him running around the country trying to dispose of anyone whose death might benefit him.” He ran his fingers through her hair and smiled ruefully. “In all my dreams, I never imagined lying in bed with you discussing murder and Hector.”

  She thought about that. “It isn’t pleasant, I suppose. But it doesn’t seem to matter much what we talk about now I’m with you.”

  He kissed her. “You are wonderful. Do you want my father present at our wedding?”

  “I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be there. Why?”

  “Well, we could ask Tristram Grant to marry us in Blackhaven. Or wait until we go home to Viscral and do it there. Or…I happen to have a clergyman on board. He doesn’t have the purest reputation in the church, but he is still licensed to marry.”

  She raised her head again, propping her chin on his chest while her heartbeat quickened yet again. “Truly?” she said breathlessly.

  “Whatever you wish.”

  “Was this part of your abduction plan, too?”

  “Of course, it was. Full confession. Crabby told me you loved me, and that I shouldn’t give you up.”

  “Crabby!” she exclaimed. “Why, the treacherous, tattle-tale! And wonderful human being.”

  “She is,” he agreed. “So, when I heard from Masters that Hector was back, I hatched a plot to abduct you and persuade you to love the sea, too…and agree to marry me into the bargain.”

  “I would have had no choice if you’d carried me off to sea. My reputation would have been ruined.”

  “Well, my original plan was to take Crabby as well. I did mean you to have a choice.”

  “And now my reputation is ruined anyway,” she said happily, kissing his chest. “In fact, I think I have been ravished.”