Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  Merideth made a noncommittal noise that made Jared twist in his saddle to look at her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing.” Merideth kept her eyes fixed on the path ahead. For several moments they trotted along in silence. Then the captain reached out and grabbed her horse’s reins, bringing them both to a halt.

  “I asked you a question.”

  Merideth lifted her chin. “And I answered it.” She followed the drift of his eyes till they rested on the locket. As if it were on fire, she jerked her fingers away. “This contention of yours that I touch my necklace when I’m lying is nonsense. It happens to be very dear to me.”

  Saying nothing, the captain continued to watch her. Around her Merideth could hear the singing of birds and the stirring of the wind through the grasses and trees. “Shouldn’t we be on our way if we plan to be at your plantation before it rains?” she said as her horse impatiently stomped his hooves.

  “First tell me why you’ve been so quiet.”

  “Why I’ve...” She stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. “What? Am I not pleasant-enough company for you? If that’s the case, I suggest you look for someone who wasn’t kidnapped and brought to a strange country against her wishes. She might be more accommodating. Besides, I should think you would like a respite from talking after last night. It must have been taxing on you being so charming to Lucinda King.”

  A grin played around the corners of Jared’s mouth. “So you thought I was charming?”

  Merideth’s lips thinned. “No, actually, I thought you acted silly, but I’m sure the simpering Mrs. King was impressed.”

  “She always has been.”

  “Has been what?”

  “Easily impressed. I tried to warn Alex about her, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Was this before or after he escorted her to dinner?”

  Jared’s brow arched. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Merry.”

  “I could say the same to you.”

  Jared shifted in the saddle. The leather creaked, but his attention remained on Merideth. “Besides,” Merideth said, folding her hands over the reins to keep herself from touching her locket, “I don’t care in the least what Mrs. King had to say.”

  With that she gave the reins a tug. The captain let them slip through his fingers and they continued on their way.

  By afternoon, mountainous clouds billowed up to the east, darkening the sky. The wind picked up and Merideth snatched at her hat—the same flannel one she’d worn on the Carolina—and tried to keep up with the captain’s hurried pace.

  They made it to Royal Oak just as the storm sent its first streaks of lightning shooting across the sky. They raced the raindrops up the crushed-shell drive lined by two rows of moss-draped oaks. Merideth was too concerned with controlling the frightened horse and keeping her seat to notice the house until she was nearly upon it.

  Then it loomed up on her, large, with a sweeping veranda across the front. As soon as they reached the brick stairs, Jared jumped from his horse and grabbed Merideth from hers.

  They pushed through the front door, shaking raindrops off them like puppies.

  “What the...” A rotund woman with a bright kerchief around her head came barreling down the curved staircase. She paused near the bottom as Jared glanced toward her. “Why, Mastah Jared, is that you?”

  “In the flesh,” Jared said, and rushed toward his old nanny. She squealed when he lifted her up.

  “Now you stop that,” she protested, but her laughter kept the words from being an admonishment. “Where’ve ya been for so long?”

  “England, France. Just about all over the world. But I missed you all the while.”

  “Oh, you shush that silly talk.” The woman straightened her kerchief. “Who’s this child you brought me?”

  After the introductions, the black woman, whose name was Belle—because Mastah Jared couldn’t say Isabel when he was little—took Merideth upstairs.

  “Ain’t had no chance to air out this room,” she said, bustling around, flitting dust around the bureau with her bunched-up apron.

  “This is fine, really.” The room was lovely, with pale-yellow curtains and a high tester bed draped in silk of the same color. “I’m just glad to be out of the wet.”

  While the storm raged outside, Merideth munched on cold chicken and rice from the tray brought to the room by another servant. Belle shook out the gown Merideth had managed to pack in the saddlebag. Her trunk had arrived at the Tradd Street house just as they were planning to leave, and she’d hurriedly scrambled through it, packing some clean shifts and the gown. It seemed she was always being forced to go here and there with the captain without a change of clothes.

  Merideth napped through the afternoon and awoke refreshed, without any sign of the pesky headache. The storm was over, the air fresher after the drenching. When a young woman named Lily came in to light the candles, she told Merideth the captain had ridden off to look over the fields after the rain had stopped.

  “He said ta go on and eat without ‘im, ‘cause he won’t be back ta late.”

  The evening darkened into night, and despite her nap, Merideth was tired. She hadn’t seen the captain, though she did meet the distant cousin of his, Bartrom Guthre. He was a pleasant dinner companion, talking mostly of his wife and young son, who were presently back in Charles Town. Merideth was sorry she hadn’t seen them at Jared’s house so she could bring Bartrom some word from his family.

  He showed her around the house, which was indeed large and lovely, with intricate carvings in the ceiling and walls. Merideth liked it immediately, and wished... She couldn’t decide what she wished. That she could stay. That the captain wanted her for more than a name she couldn’t give him.

  That he loved her.

  But for now, at least, there was nothing she could do. Being at Royal Oak was almost like being on board the Carolina. There was no way she could escape. She fell asleep in a bed draped with mosquito netting, wondering if she didn’t prefer it that way.

  It was late when he came to her, softly, like a whisper in the night. Before, she had dreaded the shadows, the darkness. But this, the dip of the mattress as he slipped in beside her, the strength of his arms as they enfolded her, was an extension of her sensual dream.

  His lips brushed hers, tasting of brandy and him. Still groggy from sleep, Merideth lifted her hands to his hair, catching the ribbon that held it back and freeing the rough silk strands. Droplets of water showered onto her neck.

  “ ‘Tis raining again,” Jared whispered as he bent to sip the moisture from her flesh.

  Instinctively Merideth arched, braiding her fingers through his damp curls and holding him close.

  “I came because I couldn’t help myself. But the decision is yours. I’ll leave if you want me to.” His breath singed her skin.

  “No.” Her fingers tightened. “Don’t go.” She guided his mouth back to hers, kissing him with all the intensity, all the expertise, he’d taught her. Her tongue met his, parried, ignited the fires of their passion.

  She lay naked under the coverlet and his large hands skimmed down, caressing her. He cupped her breast while he made love to her mouth. The pad of his thumb slid over her nipple and she moaned, lifting her back from the linen sheet and filling his hand more completely.

  Nudging the gold locket aside with his chin, Jared kissed a path down the valley of her chest. His whiskers abraded the tender skin, sending shivers of pleasure shooting through her body. Then the moist heat settled over her nipple and he sucked it into his mouth.

  Merideth’s legs spread, wrapping around his body. The doeskin of his breeches felt damp and rough between her thighs, erotic. But she wanted him, the hair-roughened texture of his skin, the steel-hard manhood that pressed against her stomach.

  With eager hands she pulled at his clothing. He jerked his arms behind him, managing to rid himself of the shirt. It went sailing to the floor, and with a shuddered sigh Merideth ran her
hands down the bulging muscles of his arms.

  The breeches were more difficult. Jared slid down the bed between her legs, his mouth wetting a path as he went. His hands fumbled with the flap of his breeches; his tongue probed the honeyed folds of her body. She was wet and ready, the tremors setting her aquiver with the first heated contact.

  She cried out, a siren song that drove Jared to the brink. He tore at his pants, freeing himself and driving into her with one powerful plunge. She called out his name, clasping him to her with arms and legs while her body writhed, milking him with wave upon shattering wave of pleasure.

  When some semblance of reason returned, Jared rolled to his back, his arm thrown over his head, his face toward her. Lightning flashed, searing the room with a split second of white light. Enough time for him to see her clearly. To set an imprint of her perfection on his mind.

  He leaned up on an elbow, his fingers tangling in the riot of golden curls spread across the pillow. “You are so beautiful. Like an angel,” he whispered, and bent to kiss her lips.

  She turned away.

  “What is it?” With his fingers he cupped her chin, pulling her back toward him. He could only see the pale image of her face, the sparkle of her eyes.

  “I’m not an angel,” Merideth breathed, embarrassed that she was close to tears. “I’m but a woman.” “A woman who loves you,” she almost said, but pride kept her from it. The pride that made her know she could not stay here any longer, when his every touch shattered her soul.

  “I know what you are,” he murmured, his fingers drifting down the curve of her jaw to her neck. “The locket,” he said, lifting the gold oval, feeling the heat from her body stored in the precious metal. “You always wear it. What’s inside?”

  “ ‘Tis a miniature. A painting of my mother... and me. I was three when she died, but I remember her. Her sunshine and light... her happy laugh when she was with me.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know, really.” Merideth swallowed. “She became ill. Miss Alice took me to her room. She said I must be very good and very quiet or my mother would leave. Her bedchamber was dark... all the curtains were drawn tight, and the only candle was guttered. I could barely see her.” She was quiet a moment and Jared thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep. But when she spoke again her voice was strong and clear.

  “I asked why it was so dark... complained my mother couldn’t see. Miss Alice yanked on my ear.” Her hair rustled on the pillowcase as she turned her head to face him. “My mother died that night.”

  His arm slid beneath her, drawing her close. “Was your father there?”

  “No. He was... I don’t know where he was. But he rarely stayed at home. Not until debt limited his traveling.”

  “I’d like to see it... the painting of you and your mother,” Jared whispered into her hair.

  “You shall,” came her breathy reply.

  In the morning he was gone. Merideth awoke to bright sunshine and dressed quickly. When she wandered downstairs Belle told her the master had gone off to the fields again and would be home late.

  Disappointed, Merideth ate a quick breakfast. She’d planned to talk with him today. To ask him straight out why he’d brought her here and what he planned to do with her. She wanted the answers, though she dreaded them. Dreaded them because she feared she already knew the answers.

  She was a trophy of war to him. Like his ancestor the pirate, he’d captured her. But unlike the long-ago rogue, Jared Blackstone had no intention of marrying his captive.

  Feeling more and more dejected as she faced the realities of her situation, Merideth wandered about the house. Mr. Guthre had shown her most, but not all, of the rooms last evening. Today she entered one he hadn’t included on his tour.

  It was a library, book-lined and smelling of leather and wood. The shutters were closed, but dust motes still danced in the slanted rays of light that filtered through the wooden slats.

  The portrait above the mantel caught her eye, and Merideth moved toward it, mesmerized. It was the pirate and his lady, of that she had no doubt. The man was large and blond, with a wildness about him so like his great-grandson. The woman was dark and pretty, and they looked at each other with such love that Merideth was momentarily jealous of the long-dead couple. Surely such devotion as theirs transcended time.

  “Ah, I see you’ve found the skeleton in our closet.”

  Merideth whirled around, hand at her throat, to see Daniel Wallis blocking the doorway.

  “The pirate,” he said, pointing to the painting. “Though I prefer to think of him as a pariah.”

  “Jared doesn’t seem to think so.”

  “He wouldn’t.” Daniel shut the door. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready?”

  He shrugged delicately. “To begin your return trip to England. You do still want to go, don’t you?”

  Merideth glanced over her shoulder at the portrait, then back at the captain’s cousin. “Yes,” she said, her voice low. “I think it time I go home.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jared took the winding central stairs three at a time. Small clumps of rich black Carolina mud dirtied the polished treads and he knew he’d get a scolding from Belle, but he didn’t care. He was anxious to see Merideth. Too anxious to take the time to remove the boots he’d worn in the fields.

  After a sharp rap on the door, which brought no answer, he turned the brass knob. Filtered light drenched the room like melted butter on a biscuit. He glanced at the high bed draped in gossamer netting and couldn’t help a smile.

  He’d left her in that bed early this morning, rising before dawn so he could finish his tour of the fields and be back by the evening meal. He and Bartrom had spent all day on horseback discussing the plantation, and he was tired.

  And he wanted to see Merideth.

  Retracing his dash up the stairs, he checked the parlor. She wasn’t there either.

  Today Jared had reached several decisions. One was to reflood all the fields. His grandmother had converted much of Royal Oak’s acreage to the growing of indigo. It had been a smart move in 1743. Indigo was a good cash crop that grew well in the Low Country. It had helped make the Blackstones one of the wealthiest families in the Carolinas.

  But indigo couldn’t be eaten. And Jared feared a British blockade. Despite the attempt to thwart the British navy by privateers such as himself, England still ruled the seas. It wouldn’t be long until Charles Town followed northern cities like New York and Philadelphia in having its ports closed.

  Then the people of South Carolina would have to depend upon themselves for food. They would need rice.

  Jared never doubted the eventual outcome of the war... especially after meeting and conversing with Benjamin Franklin. Eventually the French would enter the conflict. Eventually the Americans would prevail. But in the meantime Jared meant to do all he could to see his homeland provided for.

  He had made another decision today while riding beneath wispy beards of Spanish moss. This one concerned Merideth. Jared stuck his head in the dining room, his gaze sweeping over the large room.

  “She ain’t in there.”

  Turning, Jared gave Belle a smile, which grew wider when he saw her scowl. “I can see that. Where—”

  “What you doin’ trackin’ mud all over my clean floors? Why, your mama would roll over in her grave if’n she saw it.”

  “Sorry.” Jared bent down and gave the old black woman a quick hug. He was secretly pleased he could no longer receive the punishment of no dessert. “Where is Lady Merideth?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone? Is she in the gardens?” His shoulders lifted. “Did she go for a ride?”

  “Gone, I said she was gone. Left first thing this mornin’.”

  Comprehension was slow to come, basically because he’d stopped thinking of Merideth in terms of his captive. But when it hit, Jared was filled with impotent rage. “Where in the hell did she go? How?”

  �
��Don’t you go cursin’ like that. She went off with Mistah Daniel. He said you knowed about it.”

  Jared was to the front door before Belle’s voice stopped him. He gripped the handle, his knuckles white as he turned. “What did you say?” God, when he got his hands on Daniel, he’d have some explaining to do. What did he think he was doing, spiriting Merideth off like this?

  “I said, she done left a letter for ye. In the library. Said to make sure ye got it.”

  Without another word Jared clomped down the hall toward the library. It was his favorite room at Royal Oak. Even as a child, while John was upstairs observing his plants or collecting rocks, Jared liked to come to the library. He’d look at the portrait of his great-grandfather and imagine himself on the high seas.

  But this time when he entered the book-lined room, it wasn’t the picture but the letter on the mantel beneath it that drew his gaze.

  Beside the gold locket.

  Picking it up, Jared swallowed as his fingers closed over the oval of gold. He’d never seen it other than around her beautiful neck. Trailing the ribbon from his hand, he grabbed up the folded parchment and tore open the wax seal. Feeling very tired, he sat in the chair behind his desk.

  Her handwriting was neat and even. The letter was short, and reading it made his heart ache unbearably.

  Dearest Jared,

  By the time you read this I will be on my way back to England. Leaving you is painful, and the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I think it best. Though I long ago decided you couldn’t have killed my father, I know you neither believe nor trust me. And I find I cannot live with that.

  Please don’t worry about me. I shall be fine. I’m leaving the locket to help you remember me. I shall always remember you.

  I love you.

  Merideth

  Jared looked from the signature on the parchment to his hand. Slowly he unfurled his fingers till the gold locket lay in his palm. Delicate filigree swirls decorated the outside. With a flick of his thumb, he unhooked the tiny latch. The top opened like the shell of a clam.