Morgan (Brethren Origins Book 4)
Page 9
If there was anything he hated, it was a bully, because he was small in his youth and often the recipient of abuse aboard ship. But as the boy grew into a man, and he gained physical strength, he never forgot the seemingly endless beatings, and he always championed the unfortunate.
“Then I congratulate him on his good fortune, should he choose either of you.” Ah, Lady Sophia boasted a sharp tongue, and what he would love to do with that spirit. He had to see her.
With that in mind, he rotated casually, to glimpse a group of ladies, but the valiant Sophia remained with her back to him, as he identified the insufferable Miss Barty and her friend, Miss Oswald, two self-important debutantes he had already dismissed as viable candidates for a mate, because they inspired nothing but a queasy belly. Petite in stature, with dark brown hair, the mystery woman squared her shoulders, as she confronted her adversaries, and he cleared his throat.
“I beg your pardon, but would you care to dance?” Life was too complicated in England. In Jamaica, he would have taken her by the hand and hauled her into his arms.
“Oh, Mr. Stryker.” The snobbish Miss Barty gloated, and he savored the opportunity to take her down a peg or two. “It would be my pleasure.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Barty, but I address Lady Sophia.” Now he enjoyed that, as the haughty Miss Barty frowned, and his intended partner flinched, ever so subtly. When Lady Sophia faced him, a shiver of awareness kissed his flesh, and he gazed directly into her velvety brown eyes. “Leland Stryker, most definitely at your service, Lady Sophia.”
“I have heard much about you, Mr. Stryker.” She curtseyed, and in that seemingly harmless gesture he found all manner of erotic possibilities. “And it would be my honor, sir.”
It was then he confronted his next difficulty in his plan to buy a bride, because he had yet to master the country-dances. “I should warn you, I am not very good at this, and you and your toes may regret accepting my invitation.”
“Then we are a pair, because this is a dress from last year, and I am not so delicate, sir.” She smiled and favored Leland with a charming giggle, and the cannon in his crotch loaded for battle, much to his chagrin, because he was in no position to do anything about it. “Thank you, for saving me.”
“There is much I would do for you, Lady Sophia.” Bloody hell, he showed his hand, as her heart-shaped face and cute little nose distracted him. “And how did I save you?”
“Excuse me?” She blinked and then regained her composure. “You overheard the conversation, and you took pity on me. No doubt, that is why you chose me over Miss Barty and her estimable dowry.”
“I plead ignorance, and I could fetch a cup of ratafia, if you prefer to take your ease, or we could tour the garden.” To his relief, she appeared to relax, as she led him into the throng. “And I have never met anyone less in need of pity. As for Miss Barty, all the money in the world would not induce me to take her to wife.”
“But it is raining, and I thank you for the compliment. In regard to Miss Barty, I could kiss you for that.” When she peered over her shoulder, his knees buckled. Had he thought her beautiful? In truth, she was glorious, and he had to have her, even if only for a night, because her lush lips, a marvel of perfection, would look spectacular, wrapped about his whore’s pipe. “Now, just follow me.”
“To the ends of the earth, Lady Sophia.” The gentle sway of her hips beckoned, and he answered the summons, but not as a pirate. Instead, he touched hands with hers, strolled to the left, backed to the right, and twice he lost pace and stumbled, but she did not laugh at him. Rather, she instructed him in the correct maneuvers. Such was the way of gentlemen, masking their base appetites in refined dance moves and civil conversation rooted in deception, saying everything but what they meant, because it was unacceptable to voice passion in society. “Are you to wed, Lady Sophia?”
“Why do you ask that?” She furrowed her brow. “Are you in search of a wife?”
“Because I have not seen you at the other dances I have attended, since venturing to Derbyshire.” Her unerring accuracy in guessing his motive rankled him. “And what man would not want a beautiful woman at his side, for the rest of his life?”
“You surprise me, Mr. Stryker.” As he twirled her about, she laughed. “And I suspect you are not what you claim.”
“Oh?” Fascinated, he twined his fingers in hers, on guard for her next words. “Why would you say that?”
“Because your skin is sun-kissed, which suggests you spend much of your time outdoors, unlike most gentlemen.” Then she flipped his palm. “And your hands are rough and calloused, which tells me you are no stranger to manual labor. What is your story, Mr. Stryker?”
“As everyone knows, I am a merchantman, Lady Sophia.” In that, he did not lie, because he abandoned his former occupation. “I spend much of my workday aboard ship. Given I am the captain, I often station at the helm. And I am not ashamed to admit I join the crew in performing physicals tasks, as I am unaccustomed to being idle. Now I would know about you.”
“In light of your candor, I am compelled to offer the same. Given I am a woman, my fate is dictated by English law, which is bad enough, but there are other circumstances that impact my situation that I am equally powerless to affect.” As he eased his arm about her waist, and they strolled to the left, she lifted her chin. “It is no secret my father invested heavily with unscrupulous scoundrels, and the earldom teeters on the brink of ruin, thus I am expected to marry a man of means, and I shall do my duty.” Then she leaned near and whispered, “But my worst fear is being treated like a mare at Tattersalls, because I am not an object to be owned.”
“So you are, in effect, to be sold?” Myriad thoughts raced in his brain. “Are there any bidders?”
“To save my family, yes.” When she met his gaze, he glimpsed naught but pain. “And there are a few prospects, but none of which I approve, yet it matters not what I think.”
“You are to be forced?” If Leland was to claim her, he had to act fast, and he rarely made rash decisions. “And why do you disapprove?”
“It would be unladylike of me to elaborate, and I am nothing if not a lady.” The music stopped, and he escorted her to a spot near the terrace doors. “And as I explained, I take a husband to spare my father the humiliation of insolvency, which even now nips at his heels. Although I had hoped to marry for love or, at least, for the chance of a love match, the candidates offer no such opportunity. Even more disappointing, only two are in need of an heir, and I do so want to have a family of my own.”
“Fret not, Lady Sophia.” While he could not speak for a love match, because he was not sure he believed in such things, he could guarantee all the babes she desired, as he was more than willing to help her beget them. “I suspect you will get your wish.”
With that, he bent and kissed her gloved knuckles, as would a fop. Before she could respond, he turned and walked toward his partner in nefarious enterprises, Barrington Howe, Marquess of Ravenwood, also known in the pirate ranks as the Iron Corsair, after he was accused of a murder he did not commit and fled England.
“Any luck, tonight?” Happily wed to a society lady, Barry convinced Leland of the need to look to the future and a new occupation, which was why he signed the Crown’s agreement. “I hear Miss Barty set her sights on you.”
“Actually, fortune smiles upon me.” The world filled with possibilities he never contemplated, as he caught Lady Sophia studying him, and she quickly averted her stare. The thrill of the hunt charged his loins, and he licked his lips as he prepared to feast. “Because I just danced with my future bride.”
ABOUT BARBARA DEVLIN
Bestselling author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller. A Texan, through and through, Barbara hasn't been without a book in her possession since she was in kindergarten. She wrote her first short story, a really cheesy murder-mystery, in high school, but it was a Christmas gift, a lovely little diary with a bronze lock, given to her in the fifth grade that truly inspired her lo
ve of writing.
After completing part of her undergraduate studies at the University of London, where she developed a love of all things British, Barbara returned home and began a career in banking. But the late 80s weren't too promising for the financial industry, and every bank that hired Barbara soon folded. So she searched for a stable occupation, and the local police department offered the perfect solution.
And then one uncharacteristically cold and icy day in December 1998, Barbara was struck by a car and pinned against a guardrail while working an accident on a major highway. Permanently disabled, she retired from the police department and devoted her time and energy to physical therapy.
Once Barbara got back on her feet, she focused on a new career in academia. She earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
Connect with Barbara Devlin at BarbaraDevlin.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, The Knightly News.
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Table of Contents
Morgan
Hawisia & Morgan
Copyright
Titles by Barbara Devlin
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Excerpt: The Marooner
About Barbara Devlin