Chapter Eleven
A fortnight later Lizzie was back aboard the Freedom. There was still a price on Edmond’s head, but nevertheless, the crew had all reconvened unscathed. They had too many associates in the countryside to be found. They’d heard Bertrand had left Virginia to return to England, but it was likely that another vain glory seeker would take his place.
It seemed like her life for the last few weeks had been nothing but a dream. She’d almost come full circle. After spending time with some trusted friends of Edmond’s, the crew was back aboard their intrepid ship, preparing to take sail.
Lizzie stood on the deck, the sun warming her back, content to watch Virginia slip away. She and Edmond had become inseparable. They were lovers and friends, and she hadn’t pushed him for more. But sadness invaded her thoughts from time to time to think he would always belong to the sea, never to her.
“I want to show you something.”
Lizzie jumped at the low rumble of Edmond’s voice in her ear and spun to face him. “You scoundrel! You gave me quite a fright.”
He smiled down at her, insufferably handsome as always. “I hope you’ll forgive me when you see this.” He extracted a sheet of paper from his coat. “This is for you, darling Lizzie.”
Puzzled, she took the paper from him and unfolded it, reading the contents with dawning comprehension and a blossoming, frail sense of hope.
She nearly swooned from shock. “Edmond, is this real?”
He nodded, his smile turning into a smirk. “I’ve been granted a pardon by the governor. I’m a free man, no longer hunted, no longer above the law.”
Her mind reeled. “How is this possible? He had a price on your head.”
“I’m the Scourge of the Atlantic.” He winked. “Nothing is impossible for me.”
The rascal. Somehow he’d gained his freedom. He’d made it possible for them to have a future together. Dare she hope it meant he wanted her in his life forever? They’d been through so much in the last few days, and it had only served to strengthen their bond. And after their struggles, the pardon was a feat akin to a miracle.
“How did you really do it, Edmond?” Her curiosity wouldn’t be deterred.
Edmond tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I decided my run was over, and I had something the governor wanted while he had something I wanted. One of the first principles I learned as a pirate was the benefit of bartering.”
He amazed her. “What did you barter?”
“A pardon for my assistance in bringing in the pirates who have been attacking the governor’s shipping interests in the Chesapeake. Who better to catch a pirate than another pirate?” He shrugged. “It’s simple. Fortunately, the governor saw the wisdom of my plan.”
“That’s wonderful.” She threw her arms around his neck and dropped a kiss on his mouth. “Isn’t it?” Doubts instantly pricked her mind. “Won’t you miss the sea?”
He shook his head. “Not if I have you.” He brought her hands to his lips. “It’s taken me ten years to find you again, and I’ll be damned before I ever let you go. I’m sorry I ran from you, Lizzie. I’ve been to hell and back, and it’s taken that for me to realize I’ll never find myself without you. When we get to Philadelphia, I hope you will do me the honor of becoming my wife. I love you, Lizzie, more than pirating, more than the sea.”
“Oh, Edmond.” The tears rushing to her eyes blurred his beloved form. These were the words she’d longed to hear from him, the words she’d been too fearful to even hope for.
“What’s this?” He caught a teardrop with his finger. “I hope I’m not so unsettling a future as all that.”
“Of course not, you silly man.” A bubble of ecstatic laughter burst inside her. “I’ve never been this happy in my life. I love you too, Edmond. I loved you when you were a boy, and I love you even more now that I see the man you’ve become.”
He gazed down at her with so much tenderness it made her ache. “Marry me, my love?”
“Yes,” she cried, tugging him to her for a passionate kiss. “A thousand times yes.”
Epilogue
When Edmond dreamt, it was of water. Brilliant and blue, the mindless lull of it rocking him in the night like a babe in a cradle. Or tossing and thrashing, in the midst of a violent storm. Some nights, the sea claimed him. Others, it tempted him. Powerful and vast, it was the only mistress he had ever known.
Until the mistress of his heart had returned to him, and he had realized love was more profound and precious than freedom, gold, and the sea combined.
In the bedchamber of their fine Virginia home, Edmond gazed fondly upon his wife, twin surges of desire and love uniting in an untamable deluge that threatened to drown him. It was a drowning he would gladly succumb to, if only it meant he could spend the rest of his days basking in her presence first.
What a beautiful bloody word that was, none finer in the English language: wife.
She smiled sleepily at him, her golden locks unbound and mussed about her shoulders, clad only in a robe that did little to conceal her ripe breasts, hard nipples, and the proud rounding of her belly. After too much time apart, he could not be more pleased to see his babe growing inside her. Indeed, the mere sight of her made his cock rigid.
“You are looking quite honorable these days, Mr. Grey,” she teased softly, allowing her gaze to trail appreciatively over his fully clothed form.
He had a meeting with the governor today to discuss the addition of another ship in the Chesapeake to combat pirates, and he had dressed accordingly. He flashed her a rakish grin, unable to resist closing the distance between them. He was early for his meeting, was he not? And what sane man could leave his beautiful wife in such a state without doing something about it?
“Ah, my darling Lizzie, you should know me better than that by now. I may look honorable, but I’m afraid my intentions are decidedly the opposite.” With his free hand, he drew apart her wrapper. “I can see your nipples through your night shift and I do not yet need to leave for my meeting. If you do not inform me otherwise, I’m going to strip you naked and suck them until you’re wild for me.”
They had been married for months, and still his words sent a flush of rose to her cheeks. “Is that a threat, or is it a promise, Captain Grey?”
He cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her taut nipples, gratified by her pleased moans. Now that she was with child, her body responded to his touch more eagerly than ever, and he could not deny himself every opportunity to pleasure her. “It is a promise, my love.”
She shrugged out of her dressing gown, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of sound. “Oh dear. My robe seems to have dropped, Captain. Whatever shall I do?”
Minx. He loved when she called him “Captain,” and she knew it too well.
“I have an idea.” He took her right hand in his, guiding her palm to where his cock strained against his breeches. “Or two…perhaps even three.”
She caressed his rigid length boldly, just as she knew he preferred. “Perhaps you ought to show me your ideas, husband. All three of them.”
God’s blood. The word “husband” in her sweet, husky voice broke the thin thread of his restraint. His hands found her waist, and he stepped nearer, her large belly brushing against him. Who needed dreams or a bloody ocean when he had this—heaven—in his arms? His mouth came down on hers in a ravenous kiss. His lips played over hers, opening for the warm slide of her tongue against his. She tasted sweet, like Lizzie, and earthy, like life and love and everything vital. He released her breasts and sank his fingers into her hair. Silky blonde waves tantalized him. He kissed her with the fever that had never stopped burning in his blood for her.
The fever that never would stop, not as long as he had breaths left to take.
He wanted her night shift gone, and so he rent it. The fortune he had amassed from his pirating days meant he could buy her a thousand more in its likeness and they would still never go hungry. She was naked, just as he preferred her to be, and his hands travel
ed. Over her swollen breasts, between her thighs. He dipped a finger into her folds, teasing her slick pearl. She moaned, straining against him, her tongue dueling with his.
He pulled away to drop open-mouthed kisses on her neck, then lower, to her breasts. When he sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, she jerked against him, whispering his name. His tongue raked over her nipple, toying with her, wanting her desperation to match his. She sank her fingers into his hair, tugging as she had learned he liked. He nipped her lightly with his teeth in reward until she moaned.
Edmond glanced up at her, feeling wicked. He tongued the nipple he’d just been torturing. “Do you like my mouth on you, Lizzie?”
“Oh yes,” she whispered.
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
Where once she would have hesitated, she had grown well accustomed to their love play.
“I want you to suck my other nipple,” she murmured.
And he was grateful all over again for somehow finding her again. For making her his just as she always should have been. Just as she forever would be, in the same manner he was hers.
“With pleasure.” He dipped his head and took the peak of the breast he’d ignored into his mouth. He sucked deeply, raked his teeth over her pretty, pink skin. His hands cupped the full undersides of both breasts, the signs of her body’s preparation for bearing his babe leaving him awed and harder than ever all at once.
She rubbed her naked body against him, telling him without words just what she needed. He had made Lizzie into a wanton, and he did not regret a moment of debauching her.
He left her breast and dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Get on the edge of the bed.”
She crossed the chamber and seated herself on the bed’s edge, watching him approach her.
“Open your legs for me.” He sank to his knees on the floor before her as though he were a courtier paying homage. And that was precisely what he was.
She parted her legs, and he feasted on the sight of her pale, curved thighs, her full belly, her mound and the glistening flesh at her core. He could not wait to taste her, and so he did not spare another moment more.
Edmond lowered his mouth to her, licking, playing his tongue over her, sucking, rubbing his beard over the sensitive flesh until she cried out. She arched into him, hungry for more. And he gladly gave it. His tongue sank inside her again and again until he could not wait another moment to be inside her.
He stood and removed his breeches. His fingers parted her folds, finding her passage slick and tight, gripping him. “You’re so wet for me.”
“I want you inside me, my love.” She arched, moaning when a second finger joined the first.
He guided her legs so they rested on his chest, one on each of his shoulders. Then he lowered his hands to her waist, pulling her until her bottom was slightly off the bed’s edge. He probed her entrance with the tip of his cock, playing with her, readying her. She jerked, and he plunged inside. Together, they began a delicious rhythm. Again and again he sank inside her, then drew almost out entirely, then deep once more. She cried out as a spasm overcame her and she reached her pinnacle. He continued, increasing his thrusts in speed and strength, and he was so deep inside her. So deep, and so lost, and so in love. The sea could not compare to Lizzie Grey.
In a few more deep strokes, she came again as he pumped his seed inside her, thrusting and rotating his hips. Liquid warmth shot through him. His moan mingled with hers. Neither of them moved for a few beats of the heart, savoring the aftermath of their frenzied loving.
Finally, he withdrew from her and fell to the bed at her side, lying on his back. Naked, sated, and glorious as any goddess, she curled against him, nestling her head onto his shoulder. Her hand rested above his galloping heart.
“Do you remember the first time we met, my love?” she asked.
It was a day he would never forget.
He smiled, laying his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together. “You wore a simple black gown, and I mistook you for a servant, but you were the loveliest thing I had ever seen. I wanted to make you mine even though I knew I never could.”
“But you did, and I will be forever thankful for that day.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Did you know the cakes were not well received? One was dry, and the other too moist. My father insisted I choose a different baker, and I lied to him and told him that I had. I was desperate for any reason to see you again.”
He was sated, happier than he had ever dreamed he could be, and desperately in love. This—here, in Lizzie’s bed and in her arms, their babe growing in her womb—was where he was meant to be. Not the ocean. Not aboard a ship. But with this brave, valiant, intelligent, giving woman who made him whole.
“I was never any bloody good at being a baker,” he said with a grin, turning to fuse their lips in another long, deep kiss. “But I do hope I make a good husband to you, and a good father to our babes.” His hand cradled her stomach reverently. He could never touch her there enough, it seemed. Life could confound, bit it could also astound in the most majestic manners.
“You are the best husband, my darling man,” she said softly, love shining brilliantly in her eyes as she cupped his cheek. “And you will make the best father as well. This I know. I love you.”
“I love you more than you can possibly know.” He could not resist kissing her once more. And then again. And again. And…well, damn his blood, the governor could wait.
The End.
Dear Reader
Thank you for reading Edmond and Lizzie’s story! Their happily ever after was filled with adventure and peril, but in the end, true love conquered all just as it should. If you’re looking for an extended excerpt from Book Two in the League of Dukes series, Heartless Duke, featuring a cold-hearted duke and the Irish rebel who steals his heart, do read on.
Until next time,
Scarlett
Exclusive Bonus Teaser from League of Dukes Book 2, Heartless Duke!
Prologue
Oxfordshire, 1882
The Duke of Carlisle landed at his half brother’s estate in Oxfordshire with a small cadre of servants and one armed guard, dusty, travel-worn, and weary. It seemed wrong somehow to arrive at Clay’s wedding after having spent the previous night surrounded by the most depraved and licentious acts imaginable.
Or at least those imaginable to Leo, and his mind was blessed with a boundless creativity for the wicked.
But here he was, prepared to do his duty.
Duty was everything to him, for it was all he bloody well had.
He was also late, the hour approaching midnight, but he had allowed himself to be distracted at a tavern blessedly in possession of a hearty store of spirits. It was possible that he was drunk as well, having consumed roughly enough ale and wine to float the Spanish Armada.
A poor decision, that. He ought to have arrived earlier like a gentleman.
He flung open his carriage door and leapt down without waiting for it to reach a complete stop. Fortunately, he was blessed with a cat’s stealthy reflexes even when bosky, and he landed in the gravel on two booted feet with effortless grace.
Farleigh, one of the men standing guard over Harlton Hall whilst his brother’s wife-to-be continued to be in danger, approached him first. The political assassination of her husband had left her a target for a particularly ruthless ring of Fenians.
An unfortunate business, indeed. One Leo was doing his utmost to rectify. The criminals would be brought to justice by his hand, one way or another. Death was just as swift a sentence as prison. He would choose death for the miscreants over imprisonment every time.
“Your Grace,” Farleigh said, bowing. “You ought to take better care. You could have been injured.”
Leo flicked a cold gaze over the man. “Yet, I was not. Is the entire household abed, sir?”
“There are some who have awaited your arrival. They will see to it that your belongings are taken to the proper chamber and you are settled.”
&nb
sp; Leo’s lips thinned. Apathy, as vast as it had ever been, was a chasm inside his chest, threatening to consume him. Likely, he ought to find his chamber, order a bath, and scrub himself clean of the stink of London and the road.
But all he truly wanted was more liquor and some distraction, not necessarily—but preferably—in that order.
“Have there been any incidents since the relocation from London?” he asked sharply.
Even in his cups, he could not shake himself of the burden of his duties. He was the leader of the secretive branch of the Home Office known as the Special League. The safety and wellbeing of England’s citizenry was in his hands. And the plague of the Fenian menace was evidenced everywhere these days: bombs exploding across England, vicious murders carried out, all in the name of Irish nationalism.
Some days, he needed to over imbibe.
He allowed such a weakness once per month, no more.
“There have been none, Your Grace,” Farleigh confirmed. “The decision to leave town and come here with Her Grace was a wise one.”
“Of course it was,” Leo drawled. “I made it.”
Aware of his rudeness and not giving a good goddamn, Leo stalked past Farleigh, his long legs taking him up the stairs leading to Harlton Hall. He did not bother himself with the details of his trunks or even which chamber had been assigned him. Instead, he went in search of his quarry.
Whisky. Brandy. Ale. Holy hell, even Madeira would do at the moment, and he disliked it intensely. He was in a foul mood, and he did not know why, other than that the Fenians continued to outmaneuver him.
No one outmaneuvered the Duke of Carlisle, by God.
He stalked through the entry and main hall, and was about to acknowledge defeat when he strode into a darkened chamber and collided with something soft. Something feminine and deliciously scented. Ah, lemon and bergamot oil. Something—his hands discovered a well-curved waist—or rather someone.
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