by Adele Clee
His gaze drifted to the locket at her throat, and he fought the urge to ask to see the portrait of the gentleman inside.
After listening to a tune played on glass bottles, Fabian glanced at Mackenzie. “And what have you next, an imp who can raise snakes from a basket?”
Mackenzie chuckled. “From the breadth of your chest, I’d say you’re no imp, my lord, and some might say you make a noise loud enough to send the snakes slithering.” Mackenzie reached under the table and produced a fiddle.
Lord, no! “Surely you don’t expect me to play on my wedding day?”
“Aye, I imagine your bride would like to witness your skill with a bow.”
Lillian touched his arm again. “Please play for me, Fabian.”
He met her gaze. What was it about those enchanting hazel eyes that made a man eager to do her bidding? How the hell could he refuse?
Fabian pushed out of his throne chair. “Very well. But if I’m to play, then you will all dance.” He held out his hand to Lillian. “Come. Mackenzie will partner you, though you must follow his lead. I’ve tried to teach them various dances over the years, but the men have trouble following routine steps. Indeed, I doubt their movements will resemble any dances you know.”
Her eyes brightened as she placed her hand in his. “You mean there’s no one here to berate me for a misstep?”
“I told you, no one here will judge you.” For some unknown reason, he bent his head and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’re free to do whatever you please.”
“Then lead the way, my lord.”
While the men set about finding a woman to partner, Fabian left Lillian in Mackenzie’s capable hands. Mackenzie tapped a tune with his foot and twirled Lillian around as he tried to explain the basic moves of the dance. Fabian warmed up his fiddle by performing a series of short bows on each string, though the task proved difficult when his wife’s chuckles drew his attention.
The sound of the first few chords forced the crowd to stop their antics and fix their gazes on him. Fabian’s heart pounded in his throat. Not because he doubted his skill for playing and entertaining, but when Lillian stared at him, he glimpsed a look of wonder and admiration flashing in her eyes.
Mackenzie bowed to Lillian, took her hand and then the ten or so couples took to moving in time to the music. The steps were more akin to excited leaps and skips than any set pattern. They linked arms, swung each other around until dizzy. Their breathless chuckles were the perfect accompaniment to his tune.
“Make a circle,” Mackenzie shouted, and everyone rushed to find their place and grab their neighbour’s shoulder.
The faster Fabian played, the quicker their feet shuffled around and around the flagstone floor. Fabian watched Lillian. His wife laughed until she couldn’t catch her breath. A few locks of ebony hair came loose from her coiffure to bounce at her flushed cheeks. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, unfulfilled lust leaving a heavy ache in his groin.
Lord, had he expected to marry her and feel nothing?
Eyes wide with exhilaration, her gaze met his. Like a bolt from the heavens, the power of it made him play the wrong note. In the midst of their merriment, no one noticed. Still, in his eagerness to gain his wife’s attention, he skipped to the end and stroked his last note.
Everyone clapped and cheered, oblivious to his selfish act.
Lillian touched Mackenzie on the upper arm in a gesture of appreciation. Fabian strode over to them, weaving through the crowd who rewarded his efforts with a cheer or a curtsy.
“You were remarkable.” Lillian’s vibrant eyes settled on him. Only moments earlier he’d wished he was worthy of her esteem. And yet her praise wasn’t enough to satisfy the clawing need within.
“When one spends months aboard a ship, one must find something to do of an evening.” What might his nights have been like had he returned to his cabin to find Lillian waiting for him in bed? “Perhaps you might care to join me on my next voyage.”
“Perhaps.”
The brief silence made him acutely aware of his own erratic heartbeat thumping in his ears.
She placed her hand on her chest, the rapid rise and fall drew his gaze. “Heavens, I think I need to rest. It’s been an age since I’ve danced.”
“I doubt you’ve ever danced like that.”
A chuckle escaped. “You’re right, though I would rather a folk dance than the rigid, stifled steps one sees in the ballroom.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh so hard.” For a reason unbeknown, a lump formed his throat, and he turned to Mackenzie by way of a distraction. “You’ve outdone yourself, my friend.”
“The day’s not over yet, my lord.”
They returned to their seats on the dais. Lillian’s breath still came in ragged pants, and he couldn’t help but imagine a similar sound breezing past his ear as he thrust into her warm, welcoming body.
Willie Wright, the only man ever to wear his hair in braids, stepped forward. “Is it my turn to entertain the master, Mackenzie?”
Mackenzie stood on the dais, arms folded across his chest. “I’ve already told you, Willie, I need to hear your poem before I’ll let you take your turn.”
Lillian nudged Fabian’s elbow. “I should like to hear the poem. I imagine the hours spent at sea would give a man time for reflection.”
Life aboard a ship was far removed from what one read in romantic poems. Food was scarce, illness rife, the weather unpredictable. “We’re talking about Willie. Every word he knows rhymes with ale.” Fabian cleared his throat. It seems he would grant his wife anything. “Let him recite his poem, Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie frowned and shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Willie grinned and bowed so low his chin almost touched his knees. “I can’t take the credit for the words, my lord, but it is a sediment I share all the same.”
“You mean sentiment, Willie.”
“That’s what I said, my lord, sediment.”
Fabian pursed his lips. “Then Lady Ravenscroft is most eager to hear what is in your heart.”
Willie nodded and straightened. “There was an old man who peed in the sea. The sea was too wide, so he peed in the tide, and all the wee fishes crawled up his backside.”
“That’s enough of that nonsense,” Mackenzie roared, jumping down from the dais to shoo Willie back to his seat. “Have you forgotten there are ladies present? Never mind about the wee fishes. You’ll feel my boot up your bahooky if you carry on in that manner.”
Lillian chuckled. “I found it rather amusing. At least it rhymed.”
“Willie meant no disrespect. A man cannot flout the rules of propriety if he doesn't know they exist.” Fabian had lived alongside his men for years. He could tell from the sudden change in the air that they were growing restless. “But I think it's time to send them on their way.”
Fabian cleared his throat and raised a brow at Mackenzie who understood his meaning.
Mackenzie strode back to his seat on the dais and banged his gavel on the block. “It's time to bring the celebrations to a close. Now, will you all join me in raising a toast to Lord and Lady Ravenscroft.”
Everyone came to their feet and raised their tankards and mugs in salute.
“Perhaps his lordship might like to say a few words about his new bride,” Mackenzie said.
Fabian glared. Damn the man. Despite offering many comments to the contrary, Mackenzie knew full well theirs was a marriage of convenience. What the hell was he to say? That he had drugged and kidnapped the lady and bribed her to marry him?
His men’s cheers forced him to stand. He turned to face Lillian, not knowing where the devil to start.
Lillian’s anxious gaze swept over him. He noticed her nibbling the inside of her cheek as she stroked the gold locket. How could he compete with a lost love? What could he say that would soothe the pain he’d caused?
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as a tense silence permeated the room.
“Just raise your glass and sit down.”
The hint of hopelessness in her voice roused the chivalrous knight in him. No, he couldn’t lie to her. And so all he could do was take her hand, piece together snippets of the truth and hope it conveyed a level of affection.
Her fingers were cold, shaking.
“I’ve known Lady Ravenscroft for most of my life.” Those who had sailed the ship to bring her to Raven Island knew only that they were ferrying his bride. Those trusted men who’d taken her from Vauxhall knew of his real motive. “But I remember the first time I saw her, not as a friend of my sister’s or as a neighbour, but someone I admired in her own right.”
Lillian squeezed his fingers as she stared up at him.
“Like the stars that guide us on our perilous voyages, she has always been constant, always true and unswerving in her devotion to others.” He thought of her love for her brother, of the sacrifices she’d made for him, for Estelle. “And so I ask you to raise a toast to my wife. A woman whose outward beauty gives but a glimpse of the magnificence within.”
The women in the audience sighed. The men nudged and winked as they cried, “Lady Ravenscroft!”
Fabian swallowed a mouthful of wine and dropped into his seat.
“Thank you,” Lillian whispered. “You didn’t have to say such nice things.”
He forced himself to look at her, despite knowing that the sight of her watery eyes would be like a knife to his heart.
“I meant every word.”
“What we all want is to see you kiss your bride,” Freddie shouted.
Lillian inhaled sharply at the brash comment.
“Curb your tongue,” Fabian bellowed from his throne seat. Failing to possess an ounce of sophistication or good breeding, his men would goad him until he surrendered. “You must learn to mind your manners when in the company of my wife.”
“I mean no disrespect, my lord, but tis a custom.”
Fabian raised a brow. “Next you’ll tell me it’s a custom for the bride to kiss all the men present.” The comment received a few chuckles.
Nancy Hill stood. “A kiss in front of witnesses is a token of your troth. A kiss is more than a sign of affection. It's a sharing of souls. Of a promise made.”
All eyes fixed on him. The women would doubt his integrity if he did not do as they asked.
Fabian captured Lillian’s hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “There, will that not suffice?”
“You’ve kissed your horse with more passion, my lord.”
He cast Lillian a sidelong glance. “Mackenzie’s ale has bolstered their courage. They won’t settle until we've done the deed.”
The calls for them to show some display of affection escalated. Drumming his fingers on the table, Isaac beat out an annoying rhythm, and others soon joined him.
“They mean no harm.” Fabian had grown used to their wild ways. “They like to taunt and tease. As their lord and master, I can throw them all out if it pleases you.” One growl would send the mischievous pups running for their basket.
Lillian searched his face, her gaze falling to his lips. “Do you think they will accept a kiss on the cheek?”
“I’m afraid not. Sailors are a suspicious lot.”
“Then you should kiss me before they raise the roof.”
Fabian swallowed. Heaven help him, he felt like a boy fresh from the schoolroom. He bent his head until he was so close her breath breezed across his lips.
He cradled her soft cheeks and touched his lips to hers, a chaste press of the mouth that he expected to last mere seconds. But something happened in that uncomfortable moment. A sudden spark of energy. A shift in the earth’s axis. A change of temperature, as if a Divine force sought to bless their union?
Lillian opened her mouth slightly as her hand came to rest on his shoulder. Fabian stilled. Every nerve in his body sprang to life. The urge to devour her, to sate the clawing hunger in his belly came upon him from nowhere.
It was as if no one else in the world existed.
His hand slipped from her cheek to cup her neck as he coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. Good God, she tasted sweeter than honey. Her soft hum of appreciation sent a rush of blood to his cock. The floral scent of her skin assaulted his senses. Her beguiling essence surrounded him, pulling him deeper into the depths of his desire. He was so damn hard he couldn’t think. A fierce need to push into her body took hold. He wanted her in his bed, beneath him, on top of him.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard Mackenzie’s voice. “Happen that’s our cue to leave.”
Fabian ignored the scrape of benches on the flagstones. He ignored the receding footsteps and the bang of the old oak doors. How could he focus on anything else when he’d been snared by a siren?
Chapter Eight
For the first time in her life, Lillian knew what it was like to kiss a man and mean it. When she’d kissed Lord Martin, she experienced something akin to a weak flutter in her chest. But all expectations fell hopelessly short when compared to kissing Fabian. No amount of daydreaming had prepared her for the wild rush as her blood raced through her veins. Never had she imagined feeling a fire burning hot between her thighs, nor the strange pulsing that suggested she needed something more satisfying.
Intrigued by the flurry of strange sensations, she met Fabian’s mouth with equal enthusiasm and swept her tongue against his. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and despite angling his head, he couldn’t seem to kiss her deeply enough.
Just like the night Mackenzie abducted her from Vauxhall, events happened so quickly she couldn't quite catch her breath. Lips locked together, Fabian drew her to her feet. With one swipe of his arm, he cleared away the cutlery and plates and sent them crashing to the floor. Strong hands fixed on her waist, and he raised her up to sit on the table.
The musky scent clinging to his clothes teased her senses. Her head whirled, but it had nothing to do with drinking potent punch and everything to do with the man running his hand up past the top of her stocking.
Please, Fabian. Don’t make me want you.
Sweet heaven. His caress wrung a sigh from somewhere deep in her chest. She had waited a lifetime to feel lust, to feel anything remotely close. She had waited so long to taste the only man ever to visit her in her dreams.
The thought forced her to tear her mouth from his. Wanting Fabian would only cause further pain.
“What’s wrong?” Fabian panted. “There’s no one here. The men left minutes ago.”
She hadn’t noticed. Oddly, she didn’t care. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” Experience had taught her to handle rejection. Indifference she could cope with. But this … the power of it robbed her of all logical thought.
Fabian frowned. “What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid?” She gave a mocking snort. “I’m not afraid, Fabian.” She was petrified. What if she grew fond of him? What if she craved his company?
The pads of his fingers stroked circles on her upper thigh. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when I touch you.”
Lord above. How easy would it be to lie back and take him into her body? Would she feel the same sense of coldness and disgust she’d suffered at Lord Martin’s hands? Might she feel differently with Fabian?
“Everything is happening too quickly. Two days ago, I stood watching the balloon at Vauxhall. Now I sit here the wife of a man who admits to using me for his own gain.” The truth sliced through her lonely heart. “You expect too much from me.”
His hand slipped from her thigh, and she almost cried out in anguish for the loss. But this was lust, not intimacy she reminded herself.
“I expect nothing and take only the gifts you are willing to bestow.” He stepped away and straightened his coat. “We must find a way to muddle through this mess together.”
There it was, the one word that promised more than she could give. In the eyes of God, they were joined together, were husband and wife together — so why did she still feel s
o dreadfully alone?
“Give me a little time.”
“Time is something we do not have. You know what will happen when Vane arrives.” A frustrated sigh left his lips. “Every day we delay is another day Estelle is out there suffering.”
Despite everything she’d said, the need to soothe him took hold. “We don’t know that. We must hope that her circumstances are not as dire as you fear.”
The change in him was instant. Lillian watched the curtain fall, watched him retreat to his inner sanctum, to the place one escaped to in their mind when reality became too painful to contemplate.
“Come.” He offered his hand. “Allow me to give you a tour of the castle. It will serve as a distraction, for both of us.”
She spent the next few hours with Fabian, wandering the dark corridors, strolling around the grounds of the castle and meeting all the servants. He took her down to the cove, where they threw pebbles into the water and ambled along the sandy beach while he regaled her with tales of his adventures at sea. Like the man she’d known years ago, he was charming, courteous, shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders when the wind grew bitter. But whenever the conversation turned to Vane, the cold, cynical pirate surfaced to mock and sneer.
Lillian knew to ignore his snipes. Vane would behave in the same way if she was the one lost at sea. When reunited, perhaps both men would cast aside their differences in a bid to find Estelle. That’s if Fabian lived long enough to explain his actions, and if Vane chose to listen.
On their return to the castle, they met Mackenzie. “May I have a wee moment of your time, my lord?” The man struggled to keep the frown from his brow.
Fabian cast her a sidelong glance and waited for her nod of approval before moving to a space a few feet away, a place the men presumed was out of earshot.
Lillian fiddled with the silk ribbon on her dress while she strained to listen to their conversation. From what she could gather, when Fabian’s men were transporting the reverend to the mainland, they spotted another small boat on the far side of the island. A hulking figure clambered from the vessel and came ashore.