Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  He’d removed his waistcoat, draping it over the back of the chair. Though his shirt was white, a contrast to the stark black of his waistcoat and breeches, it was just as severely cut, with no lace or ruffle to break the harsh lines of his broad chest.

  He frightened her.

  Swallowing back the fear, she crossed her hands and began. “First, I need to know what you want.”

  He turned his head to the side, a slightly bemused expression on his face. “Are we still discussing your offer?”

  Merideth felt heat flood her cheeks, but she refused to look away. “No. We are not. You are about to tell me why you came here.”

  “I am?” Jared fought the grin tugging at his mouth. The woman had brass. He had to give her that. Another time, and most certainly another place, he might enjoy a game of verbal sparring with her. Partly because, by the looks of her, he had a notion it might lead to quite an enjoyable tussle among the sheets. Not that he believed she came to offer him her body. He only alluded to that possibility to see the angry color rise in her face.

  Merideth stiffened her spine. “Unless you tell me what it is you want, I can’t see to your payment. And please don’t repeat your story that you wish nothing from my father, because I don’t believe you.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted nothing,” Jared pointed out. “I simply said it wasn’t money.”

  “Then what?”

  She certainly wasn’t coy. “Perhaps you should ask your father that question.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “And I, Lady Merideth, am not telling you.” Jared met her stare and wondered if she would take his statement as final. She didn’t blink, but only continued to look at him through eyes the color of a Carolina summer sky.

  Merideth tried to decide what to do next. She would offer him money; that seemed the most expedient way to be rid of him. But she had no money, and, if she were to believe him, that wasn’t what he was after anyway. Then what?

  She took a deep breath. “You’re a colonial, aren’t you? From one of the southern colonies, by your accent”

  “Very astute.” Her ears were as sharp as her tongue. Jared might have been born in Charles Town in the South Carolina colony, but he had spent most of his life on the high seas. And he didn’t think his speech was characterized by the lazy drawl of slow summer afternoons spent beneath moss-draped oaks.

  “One might wonder what a colonial is doing in England in the midst of your revolt.”

  “One might,” Jared agreed. “But then one’s birthplace doesn’t necessarily decide one’s politics.” Jared wasn’t a fervent patriot because he happened to be born in America. At least he hoped his loyalties were born of a higher ideal than that.

  However, the way she was studying him—as if he had mistakenly spoken his last thoughts aloud—made him pause. If he was going to act the spy, no matter how much he disliked the role, he’d be well rid of her suspicions. It wouldn’t do for the army garrison nearby to be summoned by Lady Merideth before he could get his information and leave.

  Another lie was in order.

  “You make too much of this, Lady Merideth.” Jared smiled the smile that had captured more than one female’s attention. “I merely came to Banistar Hall to pay your father a short visit.”

  “By boat? At night? During a storm? Or have you forgotten I saw you arrive?”

  Leaning forward, elbows resting on his spread knees, Jared resumed the bald-faced lies, amazed at how easily they slipped from his lips. “I came by coach.” He seriously doubted she’d brave the storm to check the coach house tonight. And by tomorrow he’d be gone.

  “I saw you from the cliffs not more than an hour ago. You leaped from a boat, then pulled it ashore.”

  “Dear Lady Merideth, a man would have to be insane to attempt a landing such as that.” Or desperate. “Besides, unless I’m mistaken, it was quite dark an hour ago. Too dark to see what you obviously imagined.” Jared could have sworn no one had seen him come ashore.

  She wasn’t going to argue with him. Merideth was certain it would be a waste of time. But she knew what she saw, and she knew, too, that she didn’t trust Mr. Blackstone. Never mind that his smile transformed him, making her wonder why she ever thought he looked dangerous.

  With a dimple flirting with his cheek, and the show of fine white teeth softening the harsh contours of his face, he was handsome. Sinfully so.

  But that was of little consequence. There was no point remaining, since he refused to tell her the truth about his reason for coming to Banistar Hall. Whatever he wanted from her father, she would find out soon enough. Papa was never able to hide his indiscretions for long.

  She stood, obviously considering their discussion closed. Jared hoped he’d alleviated some of her suspicions, though by the look she shot him as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, he doubted it. Her hair was light, a soft honey gold that went well with her blue eyes and pale skin. Now that the heat from the fire had dried it, her hair curled wildly about her face. She looked like his perception of an angel.

  But he couldn’t allow her appearance to fool him. She was going to cause trouble if he stayed here much longer. Following her to the door, Jared decided to return to Lord Alfred as soon as she left. There was no need to delay further. And afterwards, as soon as the storm passed, he’d return to his ship and put this behind him.

  Merideth’s hand rested on the brass doorknob, and she turned. Mr. Blackstone, following her closely, now loomed over her. He smelled of sea and storm. She swallowed, forcing herself not to be intimidated by his size and obvious strength. “How long did you say you planned to stay with us?”

  “I didn’t,” Jared said with an arch of his brow. “But I imagine I shall be gone in a few days.”

  “Back to London?”

  “Back to London,” Jared confirmed with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She might be lovely, but she wasn’t the soft, pliant female he was used to. Jared expected her to call him a liar. From her expression it was apparent that was what she thought. Instead she simply opened the door and walked down the hall, her carriage—despite her damp, rumpled gown and tangled hair—regal.

  Merideth slammed into her room, the simultaneous crash of thunder drowning out the noise. The fire in her hearth was lit, but dying, and with a sigh Merideth moved toward it. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do about the stranger tonight, but in the morning she intended to send word for the village constable to pay a visit to Banistar Hall.

  For now, she would change from her damp clothes, then return to the library. If she knew her father, he had drunk himself senseless by now and would need help finding his bed.

  Shadows shrouded the stairs as Jared made his way back to the library. The few sconces that were still lit burned low, their flames sputtering in pools of melted wax. Jared glanced about when he reached the huge entrance hall. There wasn’t a soul about. Actually, he hadn’t seen anyone since entering Banistar Hall except Lord Alfred, the servant Thurston, and, of course, Lady Merideth. It seemed odd for a house this large to have so few people around.

  But then that was hardly the only unusual thing about the place. The Banistar family had obviously fallen on hard times. He knew the gold hidden in his waistcoat wasn’t near enough to restore the family to prosperity, but it provided a motive for Alfred’s treasonous venture.

  Not that Jared considered lack of funds justification for becoming a traitor. But it did provide a motive where until tonight Jared couldn’t fathom one. After all, for a British lord to contact an emissary of Dr. Franklin’s in Paris and offer to reveal the name of a well-respected American who was in truth working for the British intelligence was at least suspicious. And that suspicion was part of the reason Jared had come ashore at night. And wanted to be done with this quickly.

  As Jared knocked on the library door, he wondered briefly if Merideth Banistar knew of this intrigue. She hinted broadly that she took charge of her father’s affairs. Did those affairs i
nclude spying? It wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful woman had used her wiles to discover secrets. But though Lady Merideth was undeniably beautiful, Jared couldn’t see her steeped in subterfuge.

  It appeared that if Merideth Banistar wanted to know something, she asked—or, more accurately, demanded.

  Shaking his head, Jared entered the library. He had neither the time nor the inclination to ponder the daughter’s personality. It was Lord Alfred and his secrets for sale that should be occupying his thoughts. Getting the secrets and getting the hell back to his ship.

  Jared shut the library door with a soft click, then turned, a scowl darkening his features.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking, my boy, and believe me, i’ ‘tisn’t true. I’m not too drunk to transact our business.” Alfred Banistar lifted his glass toward Jared in a wavering salute.

  “As you say.” Jared’s voice was tight. “Then may I suggest we conclude our transaction as quickly as possible?”

  “Ah, yes. You would be the one who chafes at delays.” The final word was cut short as Alfred took another gulp of wine. “The interruption because of Merideth was unavoidable. We can’t have her here when we are discussing the fact that her father is a... a... What would you call me, Mr. Blackstone?”

  “I don’t think my label for you is important.”

  “Ho.” Alfred’s laugh was short and not very jolly. “But I already know what you consider me, as do you. For a spy, you aren’t very adept at hiding your feelings of contempt.”

  “Distaste for your duplicity is closer to the truth,” Jared said as he shook his head at Alfred’s silent offering of wine. “And I am not a spy, simply a courier.” And an unwilling one at that, Jared added to himself.

  Alfred brushed the difference aside with a wave of his hand, spilling amber liquid on his already stained waistcoat in the process. He didn’t seem to notice the mishap, and Jared sighed in frustration. His Lordship was obviously skunked.

  Jared moved closer to the chair where Alfred sprawled. “If you will give me the information, or tell me where I can find it, I’ll give you the money and take my leave.” Waiting out the storm in the cave off the beach seemed preferable to this. Then he could leave at first light to reboard his ship. The longer the Carolina stood anchored off shore, the greater the chance of being spotted by a British cruiser. For tonight, with the rain still lashing and the thunder booming, his ship was safe enough, but come tomorrow...

  “I’ve always admired you colonials. Did you know that?” Alfred’s words were slurred, and he completely ignored Jared’s suggestion that they move forward with the transfer. “I even spoke in Parliament once about giving in to some of your demands. Not too vehemently, you understand. It wasn’t a popular sentiment. But I for one was distressed with the onset of this war.” He paused long enough to upend his glass. “Nasty business, war. Of course, you have no chance of winning this one, but still I hate to—”

  “The name, Lord Alfred! I need the name.”

  His eyes owlish, Alfred stared up at Jared. The younger man was losing patience, and it didn’t help when Alfred began laughing uncontrollably.

  “Don’t have it. I—”

  “Damn your bloody hide.” Jared grabbed Alfred by the front of his waistcoat and hauled him up. “You said—”

  “Not me. Merideth,” Alfred sputtered. “Too dangerous for me to keep, but no one would suspect Merry. She has the name.”

  Jared’s fingers loosened and Alfred sank bonelessly into the chair. Hell, he should have discussed this with the daughter from the beginning. So much for his assumption of her innocence. Blue eyes and an angel face did not a pure heart make.

  “Wh... where are you going?” Alfred leaned forward, reaching for Jared, who’d retreated toward the door. “I want my money.”

  Jared paused and turned, his expression dark. “You won’t see a single penny until I have the information I came for. If I have to get it from Lady Merideth, I shall.”

  “But the money is mine. You must give it to me. She doesn’t even—” Alfred sucked in his breath. His heavy-lidded eyes, focused on a spot behind Jared, widened in shock.

  “What the—” Jared jerked around, but only caught a glimpse of scarlet before blinding pain exploded in his head.

  Good Lord, he hurt! Jared moaned and the sound amplified the drums pounding in his head. He tried to move his hands, to cradle his aching temple, but he couldn’t move them. What the hell? He tried again, this time forcing his eyes open.

  He’d obviously died, for there staring down at him was the most beautiful angel. His eyes narrowed. Hell, that was no angel. It was Lady Merideth Banister, and he was...

  Memory crashed down on him and he fought against the pain to sit up. Rough hands grabbed at him, knocking him back to the floor.

  “Ye aren’t going nowhere,” came a voice from behind him. Jared twisted but could only catch a glimpse of thick-soled boots.

  At the same time, he realized his hands were tied. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’ll tell ye what’s going on. Yer going to hang.”

  “Hang?” This time Jared struggled to sit up, but the boot slammed into his shoulder, flattening him. His head landed on the worn carpet with a thud. “What the hell for?” Jared managed after the bolt of pain subsided a bit. Had they discovered why he was on British soil?

  Jared’s gaze sought Merideth’s. She still stood over him, and she took a deep breath, her bottom lip trembling before responding. “Why did you do it? I would have gotten you the money... somehow.”

  “Do what?” Jared tried to keep the panic from his voice. But he was in so much pain he could barely think straight, he was trussed up like a Christmas goose, and it felt like an ox was standing on his shoulder.

  “Murder him,” Merideth sniffed. “Why did you murder my father?”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That’ll be enough outa ye.” The boot ground harder into Jared’s shoulder as he strained to sit up. He tried to see past the black dots that swam before his face. “Her Ladyship done sent for the constable, she did. He’ll take care a the likes a ye.”

  Jared’s eyes met Merideth’s and followed the slight shift in her gaze to the motionless form on the floor, not ten feet away. Even though it was covered with a sheet, one didn’t need much imagination to know it was a body. And it didn’t take her accusing words to know it was her father. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she seemed barely able to keep them from pouring down her cheeks. While he watched she took a deep, quivering breath.

  “You can leave now, Mort. I can handle Mr. Blackstone,” Merideth said to Belinda’s son. She’d sent the maid running to the stables to find him.

  “But yer Ladyship, what if he tries to get away?”

  “You’ve tied him securely, and I do have a pistol.” Her glance strayed back to where Jared lay on the floor. “And I won’t be shy about using it.”

  “But Lady Merideth...”

  “That’s enough, Mort. Tell Thurston to watch for Mr. Samuals, and inform your mother that I’d like some tea.” Merideth strained to control her voice and emotions. She couldn’t break down now. Later, when she learned the truth, and when the diabolical Mr. Blackstone was bound for his hangman’s noose, then she could give her grief free rein.

  “Ye wants I should take his Lordship...” Mort paused, as if not knowing exactly where to suggest he take him. “Up to his bed?”

  “No.” Merideth wondered if Mort’s question was prompted by his long history of helping her get her father up the staircase to his room when the earl was too far in his cups for Merideth to handle alone. “I don’t want him moved.”

  “But it ain’t fittin’, him just lyin’ there.”

  “We’ll take care of him directly.” Merideth tried not to look at where her father lay. But the sight of him as she had found him earlier, crimson blossoming from a hole in his chest, his face bloodless, was etched on her mind.
She stiffened her spine. “I want everything to be as it was when the constable arrives.”

  “As ye wish, your Ladyship.” Mort moved then, giving one last heel dig to Jared’s arm before heading toward the door.

  Jared twisted and got his first look at the burly redhead as Mort left the library. When he was gone, Jared slowly hiked himself to sitting. Merideth didn’t seem to mind that he sat. She simply watched his labored efforts, the pistol she held never wavering.

  Something warm trickled down his ear, and Jared imagined his efforts had caused the wound on his head to bleed. But it was better than lying on his back beneath the yeoman’s boot.

  “I want to know why.” Merideth had allowed him to struggle to sitting, but now she aimed the gun toward his chest. Even though he was tied, his size and obvious strength frightened her.

  “Do you mean, why was your father killed?” Jared watched as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth before nodding. He took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain in his head. “I haven’t a clue. Because I didn’t kill him.”

  Why was he blessed with a voice that inspired belief? Merideth knew better, yet she was still tempted to accept his words. She cocked the pistol. “When I found you, there was a spent gun clutched in your hand. And there was...” Merideth felt tears threatening and paused. When she gained control of her emotions, she continued. “You shot him. Of that I’ve no doubt. I just thought you might be...” She almost said, “... good enough to tell me why,” a completely ridiculous thought. “I thought you might tell me why you did it.”

  “Dammit, I didn’t shoot anyone!” God, he wished he’d never agreed to this plan of Daniel’s. “It would have been a neat trick, since I was unconscious. Or didn’t you notice that detail when you discovered your father?”

  Merideth bristled under his sarcastic s tone. “My father obviously tried to defend himself. It’s just too bad he didn’t kill you rather than graze your head. Apparently you were still able to fire your pistol. Or perhaps you fired first and his shot wasn’t true.”