by Connie Mason
He led her to a small anteroom off a deserted corridor. It was furnished with a table, chairs, and a brocade settee. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, making it a cozy haven for lovers. Ignorant of Harley’s deviousness, Luca saw it merely as a quiet room where the frivolity of court could not intrude.
“Wait here, my lady, I will return shortly with a plate from the buffet table.”
Luca thought Lord Harley a thoroughly likable man, and helpful besides. It occurred to her that Morgan had left her without a thought for her wellbeing, while Lord Harley seemed most solicitous of her welfare. Morgan should have inquired about her needs instead of sating his lust and then abandoning her, she thought crossly.
Lord Harley returned bearing a heaping plate of food, more than Luca could eat. He had also included a bottle of rich red wine and two glasses. He set the plate down on the table with a flourish and watched her hungrily, his eyes alive with anticipation. On his way back to Luca he couldn’t resist stopping two of his friends and bragging about his intimate rendezvous with Sir Morgan Scott’s Spanish bride. Nor could he help waxing poetic about her sultry beauty and lush charms, leaving his friends envious of his conquest.
“I’ve already eaten, but I’ll share the wine with you,” he told Luca. “It’s an excellent vintage.” He poured them both a glass and raised it in salute.
“Everything looks delicious,” Luca declared, returning the toast. She took a sip of wine, realized she was quite thirsty, and gulped it down. Harley refilled it while Luca dug into the food, washing it down with more of the excellent wine. Whenever her glass was empty Harley refilled it, neglecting his own empty glass. He wanted keen wits about him when he enjoyed the Spanish morsel.
By the time Luca finished eating, the wine bottle was empty and her head was swimming. If not for the copious amount of food she’d consumed, she would have been drunk as a skunk.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lady Scott,” Harley murmured huskily. “Come sit beside me on the settee. Unlike your husband, I will be most attentive to your needs.”
Suddenly Luca was struck with the impropriety of being alone with a man she hardly knew. She must have been mad or really starving to permit such an intimate situation to develop. It occurred to her that her ignorance of court intrigue and her inexperience had allowed, her to fall into this situation.
“It’s getting late,” Luca demurred. “I must return to my husband’s chamber. Thank you again for assisting me.”
“Your husband doesn’t deserve you,” Harley said, grasping her waist and tugging her toward the settee. “You are smart enough to know that he and Lady Jane are an item. Tis no secret that Jane is hot for him. She was hot for me at one time, but I wasn’t wealthy enough.”
Luca winced. Lord Harley was merely voicing what was common knowledge, but still it hurt. She let her mind wander and suddenly found herself sprawled across Lord Harley’s lap, being thoroughly mauled.
“Lord Harley, let me go this very minute! I thought you were my friend.”
“Oh, I am, Lady Scott, I am. I’m going to prove how true a friend I am as soon as I can get your clothes off.”
Luca had to admit Lord Harley was adept with women’s clothing. She no sooner shoved his hands away from one part of her anatomy than he pawed her in another, trying to get her out of her clothing. Were all men such lecherous pigs?
Morgan opened the door to his chamber, expecting to find Luca still sleeping. He carried a plate of food he had purloined from the buffet table, concerned that she hadn’t yet eaten. He had completed his chores in town and was ready to confront their seemingly insurmountable problems. His chamber was dark, and Morgan carefully set the plate down and struck a flint to a candle. He cursed loud and long when he discovered that Luca was gone.
He stormed from the room in a rage. She knew virtually no one at court and could get herself into serious trouble. Luca was a beautiful woman, yet dangerously innocent in the ways of the world. Any one of the unscrupulous men or women at court would take advantage of her without blinking an eye. His feet seemed to sprout wings as he fled down the corridors in search of his wife.
It seemed as if Luca had disappeared into thin air, for Morgan could find her nowhere in the palace. His greatest fear was that she had left as mysteriously as she had appeared. The thought of Luca wandering alone in the streets of London filled him with dread. He was hurrying past the Presence Chamber when he was hailed by an acquaintance with whom he’d spent many hours drinking and gambling.
“Morgan, I say old chap, why didn’t you say your wife was at court? I hear she’s a raving beauty.”
Morgan stopped dead in his tracks. “You saw her, Pierce?”
“Not I, but Harley has described her in glowing terms. I for one don’t care if she is Spanish. All women are the same beneath the sheets,” he said, winking broadly. “I envy Harley right now.”
Suddenly Morgan’s control snapped. How dare he speak of Luca as if she were a common strumpet. Grasping Pierce by the lapels, he lifted him off his feet, bringing them nose to nose. “What about Harley and my wife? Do you know something I don’t?”
Pierce sputtered fearfully. “I say, old chap, I meant no harm. With you and Lady Jane so cozy I thought Lady Scott was fair game. Everyone knows that yours was a forced marriage. It isn’t a love match, so what is the problem?”
“The problem is that Luca is my wife,” Morgan said through clenched teeth. “Where are they?”
Pierce swallowed visibly. “They’re supping privately in a small anteroom off the west corridor.”
“The one commonly used for private assignations?” Morgan asked. His control shattered, and he flung Pierce aside like a rag doll. He made directly for the chamber he had reason to know well. He had often met Lady Jane there for private conversation, though Jane would have had it otherwise. But he knew that it was used for more than conversation, much more, and the thought of what he’d find nearly destroyed him. An innocent like Luca would be putty in the hands of a womanizing scoundrel like Harley.
Luca wrested herself from Harley’s lap in a tangle of arms and legs. Desperately trying to shake off the dizzying effect of the strong wine, she fell to the floor with a jolt that rattled her teeth.
“The floor is a wonderful idea, Lady Scott,” Harley chuckled as he dropped to his knees beside her. “The settee is much too confining for what I have in mind.” With a predatory grin he lowered himself atop her. Protesting vigorously, she scooted from beneath him and tried to rise. He grasped her ankle and pulled her back down.
“No, let me go!”
“You heard her Harley, release my wife.”
Harley scrambled to his feet, his face drained of all color as he sought to placate Morgan. “I wasn’t doing anything Lady Scott didn’t want,” he insisted weakly. “She came here with me quite willingly.”
Morgan sent Luca a withering look. “Is that true, Luca?”
“I left your chamber because I was hungry. Lord Harley offered to bring me a plate of food and suggested I eat in here, away from the crowds. I did not expect him to … to accost me. Are all Englishmen so crude?”
“Get out of here, Harley,” Morgan hissed. Harley didn’t wait for a second command. He fled the room as if the Devil was after him. A Devil named Morgan Scott.
Morgan’s gaze never wavered from Luca. but he seemed to know the moment Harley was no longer with them. “Are you all right?”
Luca’s head wobbled up and down. “Morgan. I had no idea Loni Harley would try to take advantage of me. Am I so naive that I do not know when I am in danger? The good sisters did not prepare me for court behavior, where a man’s wife is fair game to unscrupulous men.”
“Why did you leave my chamber?”
“I told you. I was hungry. I thought you had abandoned me after we …”
“… made love?” Morgan supplied. “Why would I do that?”
“Perhaps Lady Jane …”
“I don’t give a fig about Lady Jane, I thought I made that clear. I
had an appointment with Stan Crawford aboard the Avenger. I returned as soon as I could, expecting to find you sleeping peacefully in my bed. I was nearly beside myself when I found the room empty. How did you meet Lord Harley?”
“When I arrived at Whitehall he was kind enough to direct me to your chamber. I thought him charming and…and…”
“He’s a blackguard, just like all the other dandies at court. Stay away from them, Luca. You aren’t equipped to handle their kind.”
Luca had difficulty trying to focus on Morgan. There seemed to be two of him. The wine was playing havoc with her equilibrium, and she had the Devil’s own time keeping her balance. “Am I equipped to handle you, Morgan?”
“More than equipped, witch,” he growled, pulling her hard against him. “Keep away from other men, I won’t stand for it.”
Her response was a bubbly hiccup that sent Morgan’s eyebrows skyward. “Are you tipsy, Luca?” He spied the empty wine bottle and groaned. “Bloody Hell, the bastard tried to get you drunk!”
“Morgan, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Bloody Hell.” Sweeping her from her feet, he carried her out the door and down the winding corridors to his chamber.
Luca giggled all the while Morgan undressed her. When she finally kicked free of her last garment, she fell upon the bed, asleep before Morgan had time to tuck her in. He stood back and stared down at her, stunned at the trick life had played on him. Marriage to a Spanish beauty had never been part of his plans for the future, yet nothing short of death could convince him to part with Luca. His weakness for her was confusing and annoying, and so exciting that just looking at her made him rock hard and ravenous.
Morgan had no idea what fate had in store for them, or even if they had a future together. Fate was probably laughing at him this very minute. His lips twisted wryly as his gaze wandered to the soft nimbus of dark curls that drifted around her temples and neck. Her hair was growing; soon it would be long again. He recalled how shocked he had been when he’d first seen her shorn locks. He was accustomed to seeing her like this now, realizing that she’d always be beautiful to him no matter what she did to make herself unattractive. He’d always remember that drowsy, voluptuous look, the lush curve of her swollen red lips and heightened color, her gentle smile of surfeit after he made love to her.
God, she was magnificent! It was unfortunate she was Spanish. With stubborn perversity he realized that unless he wanted children tainted with their mother’s Spanish blood, he had to keep his hands off her. When he touched her his lust for vengeance deserted him; he lusted only for his wife. But he’d pursued revenge against her family far too long to stop now. His hunger for Luca was elemental, yet arousal and completion were only a part of his need for her. His feelings made a mockery of the name El Diablo. If he didn’t know better, he might think he actually loved Luca.
He groaned as if in pain. If love meant this gutwrenching agony at the thought of giving Luca up, he wanted nothing to do with it.
“Wake up, Luca, there is much to be done before you can be presented to the queen.”
Morgan gave Luca a none too gentle nudge, but she merely groaned and burrowed deeper beneath the covers.
“Luca, Queen Bess knows you’re here and requests that you be presented to her this afternoon.”
Morgan’s last sentence brought an instant response from Luca. Shaking off her grogginess, she opened her eyes and stared at Morgan. “I’d prefer not to meet her at all.”
Morgan shook his head and pulled the covers away, baring her naked body to the cool air. “One simply does not refuse the queen. Up with you, the dressmaker will arrive in an hour with an assortment of gowns that some of her clients were unable to pay for and left unclaimed. We should find something proper for you to wear that won’t take much alteration. I’ve requested a tub and hot water for your bath.”
Luca sat up, realized she was naked, and grabbed for the blanket. Morgan’s magnificent eyes swept the length of her nude form as she tried to cover herself. She loved the way his eyes changed from blue to gray, depending on his mood. They could be piercingly aware, languidly shuttered, or deceptively calm. His harsh features were diffused now by those keen eyes as his gaze turned smoky with desire.
“I don’t feel so good,” Luca protested. “My head hurts and my stomach is churning.”
Morgan’s mouth pursed with displeasure. “Now that you’re at court you’ll have to learn whom to trust. Are you so naive that you didn’t know what Lord Harley wanted? Or did you invite his attention?”
Luca’s eyes narrowed in fury. “Think what you like, Morgan, you usually do. Why must I always explain myself to you? You probably still blame me for what happened to you in Havana, though I’ve denied it repeatedly. For your information I did not invite Lord Harley’s attention, not knowingly, that is. I admit that court behavior is beyond my limited comprehension.”
Morgan’s expression softened as he eased down beside Luca, careful not to touch her. If he did he’d spend the rest of the morning in bed with her. “I’ve had abundant time to think during the past months and have come to the conclusion that you aren’t capable of those things del Fugo accused you of. I absolved you long ago of any wrongdoing in Havana.
“As for your behavior last night with Lord Harley, I blame that bounder for assuming you were fair game. The only thing you were guilty of was trusting unwisely. Don’t let it happen again, Luca. You are my wife, and I guard what is mine. So don’t get any ideas about testing your feminine wiles on Elizabeth’s smooth-talking courtiers.”
Luca’s eyes widened, stunned by Morgan’s words. “If you feel that way, why are you paying court to Lady Jane?”
Morgan searched Luca’s face, contemplating her question. She deserved an answer, but he could think of nothing that would ease the truth. She already knew how he felt about the Spanish blood flowing through her veins.
“Queen Bess was furious with me for marrying against her wishes and is pressing for an annulment on grounds that our marriage was forced. Lady Jane is to be my reward. She offered Lady Jane’s hand as a reward for my obedience. Lady Jane is wealthy and titled and eager to become my wife.”
Luca swallowed past the lump in her throat. “’Tis common knowledge. West Sussex isn’t so far from London that gossip doesn’t reach Scott Hall. If it’s the queen’s wish that our marriage be dissolved, why haven’t you done so?”
Morgan’s eyes darkened with an emotion Luca didn’t recognize. “Why, indeed?”
Their gazes collided and clung, reluctant to part as Morgan’s eyes made love to her. Luca shuddered. The intensity of his glittering gaze made her breasts ache and flesh tingle. She felt as if he had stroked her intimately without actually touching her. After the space of a dozen heartbeats, Morgan cursed and looked away.
“Bloody Hell, Luca, how can I let you go when I still want you?”
He stood abruptly, as if startled by the admission.
“Servants will arrive soon with your bath. When the dressmaker arrives she will help you choose something appropriate for your audience with the queen. I’ll return for you promptly at three o’clock.”
Before Luca could catch her breath, Morgan was gone. He may have been confused about his feelings for her, but she knew exactly what she felt for her exasperating husband. Little good it did her to love him, when he continued to deny what was in his heart. And if there should be a babe, she shuddered to think how the poor child would suffer with a father who would despise him for his Spanish blood. Although her morose thoughts scattered when servants arrived with her bath, she couldn’t help but note fleetingly that her first day at court had been anything but auspicious.
Morgan eyed Luca critically and nodded with satisfaction. Wearing a yellow brocade gown embellished with yards of lace and a high ruff collar, she outshined every court lady he knew. Morgan hoped she wouldn’t outshine the queen, for Bess took pride in being the center of attention amid the bevy of beauties orbiting around her. No one dar
ed shine brighter than Bess if they hoped to gain her good graces.
“You look lovely, Luca,” Morgan said, meaning it. “Come along, the queen is waiting.”
The corridors still confused Luca, but Morgan seemed to know where he was going as he conveyed her through the maze of hallways. Surprised when she found the Presence Chamber empty, Luca looked askance at Morgan.
“Bess is waiting in her Privy Chamber. She preferred to meet privately with you.”
A footman announced them, and Luca felt her knees go weak as she entered the chamber on Morgan’s arm. His strength lent her courage, for she discovered that they were not really alone. The room was crowded with spectators, most of them ladies-in-waiting and courtiers. Is this what private means to the queen? she wondered. Then her thoughts scattered when a path cleared and she saw the queen sitting on an ornate carved chair at one end of the Privy Chamber.
The queen was a small woman, Luca noted, but her stature was enhanced by her regal bearing. Her red wig was fashioned in an elaborate headdress, and her starched ruff emphasized her striking white skin. Nothing about the queen was ordinary. Luca saw immediately that Elizabeth was born for the role of sovereign and played it to the hilt.
“Your Majesty,” Morgan said, executing a deep bow. Luca immediately dropped into a graceful curtsy.
Elizabeth bade them rise and offered her hand to Morgan. He clasped it and brought it to his lips, then introduced Luca. Elizabeth stared disconcertingly at Luca, immediately aware of Morgan’s reason for steadfastly resisting her effort to dissolve his marriage. She thought the Spanish woman a rare beauty, but that knowledge failed to influence her thinking where Morgan’s marriage was concerned. Sir Morgan Scott deserved an Englishwoman for a wife, not a Spaniard who brought nothing to the marriage.
“We did not summon your wife to court,” Elizabeth said coolly. “We are not pleased, Sir Morgan. You know our wishes in this matter. It has been brought to our attention that your wife made threats against one of our ladies-in-waiting.”