“It is something to consider,” she said. “I have to say with all honesty, that I have never been made an offer quite like this one.”
Cundy screwed up his mouth. “If we were real wreckers, miss, ye would ‘ave two choices. Join us or die.”
“Die?” Wraith laughed. “How do ye plan to slay her? Taking off yer masks and letting her see yer ugly faces? That would be shock enough to stop the strongest heart. Be off with ye, and we will meet here again at the low tide after dawn.” As the men nodded and walked away, still laughing and joking, he called after them, “Take care. I do not think the wreckers will be back tonight, but they may be stupid enough to try again.”
He stood and went to the crate. Pulling out another bottle of wine, he opened it. He brought it to where she sat. “No fine goblets, but do ye want to enjoy it before I take ye back to Bannatyne Hall?”
She took a deep drink from the bottle and savored the warmth slipping down through her. “You have interesting friends. Do they know who you really are?”
“No.” He smiled as he tilted back the bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “To own the truth, until tonight quite a few of them believed that Wraith was yer brother-in-law, Bannatyne.”
“But Gideon has been gone from here for more than a year.”
“Which they think is the perfect disguise. Imagine their shock to see the two of us on the cliffs at the same time.” He handed her the bottle.
Again she drank, savoring the warmth from his lips and hands that remained on the bottle. “I do not need to imagine their shock. I felt the same when I saw you and Arthyn side-by-side.” Lowering the bottle to the cave floor, she whispered, “Tell me the truth. Who are you? I love you, but I do not know who you are.”
“Whom would you wish me to be?”
She gasped as he spoke without the Cornish accent that had disguised so well his educated voice. “Constantine!”
“Is that an answer or simply a guess?” He began to loosen the domino.
“It is an answer, the answer to my dreams.” Pushing aside his hands, she reached behind his head to pull away the black fabric. She lifted it off and gazed into Constantine’s sparkling green eyes. As she lowered her hands, he did not move. Not toward her or away. The decision was wholly hers. She let the material fall from her fingers, then curved her hands on either side of his head. Searching his face, she tried to sear every aspect of it into her mind as she combined the dedicated Lord Lastingham with the devilish Wraith. It was much easier than she had expected, because she had fallen in love with each of them.
She leaned forward and licked the remnants of wine off his lips as her fingers combed up through his hair. When his arm went around her waist, pulling her tight to him, desire became need within her. She pressed against his chest to lean him back on the pallet.
“Here again?” he asked with a laugh as he drew off his gloves. He tossed them onto the floor by the pallet. He put his weapons beside them.
“Why not?” She undid his cape and let it drop back off his shoulders.
“I had thought to play your dashing Romeo by climbing up to your window at Bannatyne Hall.”
“You said it was child’s play.” Loosening the uppermost button on his shirt, she nuzzled his neck before placing playful nip on his ear.
“I did, didn’t I?” His voice quivered as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto his chest.
“We can play here.” She raised her head to look down into his enticing eyes. “As long as your friends will not be back soon.”
“You need not worry. They will not be back until the next low tide. They took all the wine, except the one bottle I opened.”
“When? I thought they only took four bottles.”
His hands swept up her back, compressing her breasts against his chest. “They are smugglers, sweetheart. They have tricks of their own.”
She smiled, glad he still called her sweetheart. She leaned forward and found his mouth waiting for hers. While the fingers of his right hand wound their way up into her hair, his other hand slid down her spine to curve around her bottom. She gasped, and the sound swirled within his mouth, increasing her yearning for him.
His own breath was warm as his tongue sought deep within her mouth. She was intoxicated. Not with the wine, but with his touch. She drew in the luscious scent of him as he sprinkled kisses along her cheek, her nose, her eyelids, before teasing her ear with the tip of his tongue. Her breath caught where her breasts touched him.
When he rolled her onto her back, she whispered, “Love me, Constantine.”
“I am yours, sweetheart. Now and as long as you will have me.”
She writhed when his tongue teased her ear by tracing its uneven whorls. He drew her hair aside and spread his lips’ fire along her neck. Her fingers swept beneath his loosened shirt to explore the powerful muscles down his back. His skin was smooth and warm beneath her palms. She had to feel the rest of him.
With an impatience she did not recognize in herself, she pushed out from beneath him and, lying facing him, she undid the buttons that held his simple clothes in place. Once she had divested him of his last garment, she did not want to hurry. Beginning with his lips, she explored his face, his neck, across his chest. She was amazed and delighted by how many different flavors his skin possessed. Some places were cooler than others, but each warmed beneath her questing lips. His ear was rough, uneven. His chest was wondrously alive with his heartbeat beneath his taut skin.
He began to undo her dress, but she batted his hands away. “Let me focus on you,” she murmured.
“How can I argue with that?”
She ran her hands up his arms, locking her fingers with his. Straddling him, she gazed down into his face which she had not been able to see when they made love before. His eyes were glazed with the powerful sensations she was creating within him. Knowing that she could orchestrate his pleasure, she leaned forward until her breasts fell out of her gaping gown. He moaned, and she felt his reaction all along him.
Again with slow precision, she began her exploration anew. His fingers clenched around hers, but released them as she slid down him. His hands clamped on her hips as he pressed her down against his. She gasped as his motions thrilled her, driving her to a fever pitch.
He snarled something she could not understand in the second before he seized the bodice of her dress and pulled down, sending buttons flying in every direction. She paid them no mind, for her eyes were caught by the pure animal need in his. He had denied her—and himself—this connection, this mirror of the passion within them, by keeping her from seeing his face. Now it overwhelmed her, reminding her that whether he was Wraith or Constantine, he hungered for her.
Undressing her as swiftly as she had him, he rose over her, again holding her gaze. He whispered into her ear, “My turn.”
She trembled in anticipation of his mouth on hers, but he moved away. Her fingers reached out to draw him back. He playfully slapped them as she had his before running his finger down her leg to her toes. He raised her leg and pressed his mouth to the arch of her foot.
A feeling too potent to let her lie still raced through her as his mouth moved up her leg, discovering sensitive places she had never imagined. She gripped the mattress as his tongue roved up her thigh and delved into her most intimate crevice. He laved, then suckled, then caressed as his hands covered hers before weaving his fingers through hers once more.
He drove her to the precipice again and again, always drawing back to make the ecstasy exquisitely sweet as he prolonged her pleasure. As she pleaded with him for release, his soft chuckle brushed her moist skin before he gave her what she craved.
She opened her eyes to see him above her. As she brought his lips down on hers, tasting what he had, he slid into her. A gasp filled her mouth, but she had no idea if it had been his or hers. There was no him. There was no her. They were one as their bodies flowed to the rhythm of the sea beyond the cave. Gentle at first, then the
storm raised them higher until the passion washed thought into glorious sensation. She let it take her, knowing he was with her at that perfect moment. It was everything she wanted for the rest of her life.
Chapter Twenty
Constantine listened to the soft tiptoeing of the sea into the cave. The rising tide marked the passage of time, and he knew he must not wait much longer to bring Sian to her family. Even though Bannatyne had agreed for her to go with Wraith, each hour that passed without her returning to Bannatyne Hall would add to her family’s worry.
He did not want to leave this haven where Sian was his and he was hers. Beyond the cave, everything was different. He wished it did not have to be. She was the woman he had never thought he would find, a woman who could share his secrets. Share them and keep them. She had said nothing about his drunken cousin, and she had been as closemouthed in the breakfast-parlor about her belief that she knew who Wraith was, despite the joy that had been alive in her eyes.
He smiled as Sian said for the third time, “I am astonished how you were able to hide the truth from me that you were Wraith.”
“You never suspected me?”
“Quite the opposite. I did suspect you very quickly, but then you would do something impossible, and I had to set aside my hunch. If you need an example, let’s start with the night I joined you and Lord Pitchford for dinner. I left you at his cottage, and a short time later, you appeared in the garden at Bannatyne Hall as Wraith. How did you do that?”
“That was one of the simplest tricks.” He chuckled as he savored the memory of finding the perfect excuse to spend time with her. “Whichever Bannatyne planted the hedgerows around the Hall to enclose the lands left a pattern of breaks that I discovered shortly after I arrived in St. Gundred. They lead from the Hall to the village in a surprisingly straight pattern.”
“A break like the gated one in the garden hedge?”
“Yes. I suspect that Lord Bannatyne had a reason for wanting to reach the village unseen. A mistress possibly or studying with the vicar.” He smiled. “It could be either of those or something in-between.”
As she kept asking questions that he had been unable to answer before, he stroked her hair. Why did this moment have to end? She loved him, and she had given herself to him in the hopes that he would offer her more than a few trysts in a damp cave. But what could he truly give her except months and years of sitting alone while he was sent from one assignment to the next?
“Will you continue to be Wraith?” she asked, startling him because he had not guessed her thoughts were headed in that direction.
“I would like to say no, but this is not over, sweetheart. The wreckers are determined to bring a naval ship to its doom.”
“What?” She stared at him in disbelief. “A naval ship? Is that possible?”
He quickly explained what had learned at the Home Office. “A suicidal plan, which I thought the wreckers would balk at attempting, but Cundy confirms that his spies believe the plan is going forward. Or it was, before the battle on the cliffs tonight. The wreckers want more weapons. Maybe their new leader wishes to impress his men with a grand gesture.”
“I do not think there is a new leader. I think it is the same leader as before.”
Leaning away from her so he could see her face, he said, “Gillis is dead.”
“I know that.” She dampened her lips, and his eyes followed the tip of her tongue.
He wished it was his brushing her lips. He wished they had never begun this conversation so he could make love with her again. Right now.
“You know that I believed it was possible that Gillis never was the true leader,” she said. “You thought you were the only leader of wreckers who wore a mask, but I am beginning to think that was not true.”
He pushed his craving for her aside. “You think someone else was manipulating him?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She hesitated, searching his face with anxious eyes, then said softly, “Lord Pitchford.”
“Sian, that is insane.”
She drew away and sat. “You said you would not think me deranged.”
“But it is madness to accuse the one man who has been on my side in St. Gundred.” He stood when she did. When she reached for her clothes, he put out his hand. “Sian, I am sorry, but you have to be wrong.”
“What if I am not?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it.
Closing her eyes, she sighed. She dressed quickly, waiting for him to say something. He remained silent until she walked toward the hidden door.
He pulled on his breeches as she groped along the wall for the way to open the door. He put his hand on her arm, and she froze. He wanted her to melt back into his embrace, but she did not.
“You think me mad.” Her voice was soft and filled with pain. “People used to think my father was mad because he believed in ghosts, but I believed him.”
“Of course you did. You see ghosts, too.”
She faced him. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “My father never saw a ghost, but he believed they existed. You have seen a ghost, yet you do not believe the ghost’s warning.”
“Warning?”
“He told us that treachery is near us. Remember? He said it is closer than you imagine.”
“And you think that cryptic message means Pitchford is the leader of the wreckers? I need more than the word of a ghost.”
She raised her chin and met his eyes steadily. “All right.” She counted on her fingers as she listed each reason. “Lord Pitchford has made no effort to hide that he is deeply intrigued with everything the wreckers do. The villagers offer him a respect greater than they would offer King George himself. He came here about the same time as the wreckers began to become more organized and aggressive.”
“All that may still be coincidence.”
“Is it coincidental that whenever you set a trap, it fails? When you chance upon the wreckers and surprise them, you are successful, but when you plan something, it fails. There is only one explanation. Someone has been betraying your moves to the wreckers.”
He cursed once, then again more vividly as he considered her words. Why, on that single night and never before or after, would the wreckers avoid the section of the road where he waited? The answer was simple: They had been alerted to his plans. And the answer to who had alerted them was equally obvious. Only one other person had been privy to those strategies.
Pitchford!
“How did you see what I missed?” Constantine asked, guilt thickening in his gut as he began to accept what she said about the man he had believed he could trust with his life.
“I heeded what the ghost had to say. At first, I thought I had betrayed you by not revealing my conversations with Wraith, but now that I know the truth, it has to be someone else deceiving you.” She ran her fingers up his bare chest as she stepped toward him. “And there is only one person. I do not want to believe it either, but who, save Lord Pitchford, could have added the page that ordered you back to London?”
“There could have been someone else.”
With a gasp, she dropped her hands. He put his own out to halt her from walking away again. Threading his fingers between hers, he drew her back to him.
“Let me finish, sweetheart. I am not saying you are wrong. You have made a very convincing argument, but I need more solid evidence before I can swear out a complaint before the justice of the peace.”
“But if I am right—”
“I hope you are not.” He drew her against his chest, savoring the soft texture of her skin. “But I will watch Pitchford closely.”
“No!” She pulled back again, her face gray. “If you stay close to him, he is sure to betray you.”
“I must complete my assignment here. The wreckers have suffered a huge blow tonight, but they are like mercury. Scatter them, and they join back together again with no signs of weakness.” He put his thumbs beneath her chin and tilted back her head. “I
have asked you to trust me before, and I must ask it again. Can you?”
For a long moment, she did not answer. She finally nodded and said, “I will try if you try to look past your loyalty to a man you thought you knew.”
“That is a bargain.” He kissed her, wishing he could sweep her into his arms and carry her back to the pallet and find rapture deep within her once more. Before he could give into that temptation, he said, “Let me get dressed. It is time to go.”
“I know.” Regret sifted into her voice. “Constantine. . .”
He curved his hand along her face. “Do not ask me the question I see in your eyes right now, because I cannot give you the answer you want to hear.”
“Because of your duty to halt the wreckers?”
“Yes.”
She smiled sadly. “It is not as if you did not warn me. You told me that, even though you wanted more than friendship from me, your duty had to come first.”
“I said usually.”
“But this is one of those times, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for being honest with me.” Her voice quivered, but no tears fell down her cheeks.
“I do love you, Sian.”
She put up her hands. “No, do not make it worse. I think we should go to Bannatyne Hall now. My family must be frantic.”
“Let me get dressed.” He pulled on his shirt and coat, then leaned against the wall and tugged on his boots. As he picked up his weapons and strapped them beneath the black cloak he hooked around his neck, he said, “I can take you only as far as the garden hedge.”
“Why? Gideon knows I am with you.”
“But if I go into the light, I may be recognized.” He could not meet her eyes as he added, “I must begin work to set up a trap that will catch Pitchford, if he is truly guilty.”
“Let me help.”
He scooped up his domino and strode back to where she waited. “Do you think I would put you in danger?”
“You are in danger. What is the difference?” She put her hands on her hips. “Do not tell me is because you are a trained soldier.”
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