“Oh, I couldn’t . . .”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth cut her off, patting her hand, again. “Who else would wear them, dear? I’ve five sons, all of them off in England.” She implored her with her eyes. “Please allow me to give them to you. Cormac said you were in need of an entire ensemble, and I just happen to have one to give you.”
“Oh, but might I pay you for them?” She couldn’t just take the woman’s clothes. Not such an expensive gift, with no expectation to purchase them. The generosity of it was indescribable.
“Do not even suggest it.” She gazed at her with narrowed eyes. “I owe William for filling up my store room when my James died. Out of the kindness of his heart, he stepped in while I waited to hear the terms of my husband’s will. It’s the least I could do for his niece.” The older lady smiled then. Hope lay in her eyes with the opportunity to repay her friend, and Anne’s Uncle. It made perfect sense, now, that her father had suggested she be referred to as his niece to keep her true identity hidden.
Elizabeth stood and turned an open palm to her. “Come, I’ll show you the way. I do hope you’ve brought some muscle to help with the trunks. If not, I’ll have the rest sent over straight away on the morrow.”
Anne allowed the lady to drag her from the settee and out into the foyer. “I have my, er, servant to do the heavy lifting.”
“Excellent!” Excitement filled her voice. It was difficult keeping up with Elizabeth as she led the way. They climbed three flights of ornate steps and landed in front of an oak door in the middle of the house. Dust motes floated about them and the air became thicker with the heat of the day.
“Oh, wait a moment, Anne. Let me light a candle.” She turned and went through a door to their left, coming out moments later with a lighted candle lantern.
She took a key from inside a pocket in her gown, inserted it in the lock, and opened the door. More stairs greeted them. However, a warm breeze moved to lift her hair, signaling open windows to relieve the stifling heat.
“I’ve stored all of Lenore’s personal belongings up here. It’s quite hot so we tend to leave all the attic windows open on non-rainy days. That allows the river air to flow throughout.” Her voice trailed off as they ascended into the dimly lit attic, the smell of dust and old wood assailing her nostrils.
She turned right at the top of the steps and held the lantern high to show a space the entire length of the home. Elizabeth strode to the windows on the far end that allowed the bright sunlight and soft breeze to envelope the large room.
Elizabeth sighed and smoothed her gown with her free hand, and then motioned her to a large number of chests and crates. The sheer amount of crates and chests gave Anne pause. She stared, dumbfounded, at the space before her. Surely not all of the chests contained the Lenore’s wardrobe.
“Anything in this attic Anne, that you feel you can use, please feel free to take.”
“I shall be forever grateful, Elizabeth.” Truly, this was a huge undertaking that would probably involve hours to rifle through all of the chests. It would be rude not to look, though. Anne hunkered down on her knees in front of a particularly large chest, and hefted the lid.
“Lenore’s soiree garb, I believe. Only a few years old, and still in fashion.”
Pastels and sheer material flooded her vision.
“She was particularly fond of spring hues. I believe there is another chest just behind this one that is filled with her autumn hues that will fit your coloring perfectly.”
Pulling out the taffeta and holding it up to the light, the sheer elegance of everything, just on the top of the chest, made her mouth dry. She’d never had anything so expensive or nice in her life. “These are exceedingly beautiful.”
“You shall be the belle of the ball in those, dear.” Elizabeth opened a trunk near her feet, pulling out lighter, cotton day gowns. “This lot is more practical for Charles Towne summers.” She flipped through many gowns then moved to another chest that contained more of the same daywear. “Where are you staying, my dear?”
Anne had moved on to the autumn hues trunk. She supposed Elizabeth would hear of her whereabouts at some point. “Cranford Hall, on the Ashley River.”
“Lord Blackhurst’s plantation?” Her voice raised an octave.
Anne fondled the silk of a deep burgundy gown. “Aye, that’s the one.”
“You’re related to Lord Blackhurst?” The dear lady was very curious.
“No, he’s to be my husband.” Why she felt the need to clarify that when she would be trying her damnedest to rid herself of any husband, she did not know.
“Husband?” Elizabeth stood, a hand flying to her cheek. “My dear, how glorious. Do you realize how many women in this town, and beyond, have tried to capture that very eligible man’s attention?”
An image of his handsome features and pleasing physique danced before her. “I shall agree with you. He is quite a catch.” Just not one she wanted to ensnare. But, she had to admit, he was indeed a fine specimen of a man: successful, handsome, and wealthy. He was generous to his servants as far as she could tell, and had offered her and her children a home. She refused to be tied down. To be tied down, by any man, simply was not going to happen, ever again.
“All the ladies in Charles Town will be positively envious of you.” Elizabeth began to throw open various crates and chests. “This wardrobe will be fitting for a bride of Lord Blackhurst. Your uncle will be pleased.” She gave Anne a speculative glance, a sparkle in her eye. “Aye, you two shall complement one another quite nicely.”
“I’m very pleased by such an expansive wardrobe, Elizabeth. I really must insist on paying you.”
“Nonsense. The future Lady Blackhurst is in need of a fashionable garments, and I will be the one to provide it to her. Lenore would be ever so joyous to know she’d contributed.” She clapped her hands together excitedly. “I shall let you look over all of these. Try them on if you like. If you find anything that needs altering, we can have my housekeeper sew them up for you.”
Anne gave her a heartfelt smile. “Thank you so much, Elizabeth. You are truly a life saver.”
Elizabeth patted Anne on her shoulder. “You’re very welcome, my dear. I’ll be down in the parlor going over some of cook’s pantry numbers should you need me.”
“Very well. I shan’t be long.”
She disappeared around the corner and Anne heard her retreating footsteps upon the stairs.
She bit her lip and began to dig through as many of the chests, still astonished she’d acquired such a fabulous wardrobe.
Countless minutes later, and at the bottom of one of the older chests, she found the most thrilling item of the day’s treasure . . . dark breeches and flowing, white blouses.
No respectable lord desired a wife who dressed as a man.
Anne returned to Cranford Hall a bit later than she’d planned. The delay was indeed intentional. However, she had the unexpected opportunity to become better acquainted with her new friend, Elizabeth Browning.
It was a relaxing afternoon, although she spent most of it wondering why Addison Blackhurst would agree to a wife with a child. He’d stated he needed someone to run the household, but many women in town were apparently standing in line for the job. Was she crazy for not wanting such an advantageous match with him? She’d not thought to inquire as to his obvious source of wealth. Had he earned it from the plantation? Why did he live in the Colonies when surely he’d be more comfortable in England?
She frowned, wondering how much her father had discussed with the man. What did her father gain from the deal, or what had Blackhurst gained? Surely, he did not know of her past.
She shook herself from her thoughts to help Raphael with the numerous chests they were able to transfer by a secondary boat tethered to their longboat. He’d given her a good glare as if she
were unable to accomplish such menial things, but she was having none of it.
“Don’t you dare give me that look, Raphael. I’m no lady, and I can bloody well carry my own things.”
She grabbed two smaller boxes and strode purposefully up the front steps and through the front entrance. No one was about in the entryway, so she began her trek up the steps. Stopping midway up, she realized she had no idea where she was to sleep.
Sarah had placed her in the lord’s room earlier, but surely that could not be correct.
Bypassing Addison’s rooms on the left, she continued on until she found a room that was not under construction, which happened to be beside the nursery. Perfect! She’d be near her babies.
Thinking of them, she dropped her packages on the bed in the room she’d chosen—a less intimidating and masculine room—far away from him, and headed to the nursery. It was time for a feeding anyway.
She opened the nursery door to find the room empty. The crib contained neither of the twins.
“Had you been polite enough attend dinner, you would have found out where your rooms were, and to where you might find the children.”
The huskiness and slight edge to his voice sent a small shiver down her spine, but she was able to keep from flinching. She smiled at the spark of anger in his voice. Her intentional lateness had raised the proper response. Although, her heart raced and her stomach rioted with nerves as she turned to face him.
He was too handsome by far, and she felt it to her toes. The doorframe seemed to shrink as he stood there; anger flickered in his magnificent eyes and his tanned face taut with irritation. Anne stared at his mouth for a moment, noting the bottom lip plumper than the top.
Blinking, she brought herself out of her scrutiny of his physical appeal.
“Am I to have a curfew then, my lord? I merely retrieved a wardrobe and remained to speak to my new friend, as politeness dictates.”
She walked toward him, preparing to leave. With him standing so tall and compelling, she just could not breathe at the moment. Even with the irritation plain in his eyes.
One large hand moved to rest on the doorjamb. He leaned casually as if he could stand there all evening.
“It appears you need a curfew.” His stony gaze traveled from hers down to where the fluttering in her stomach began.
She raised her chin, determined not to take the bait. “We are not yet wed.”
“At dinner, we would have discussed that particular activity. I have obtained a special license. We shall be wed at the end of the week.”
She sputtered, trying to make sense of his words.
He smiled in a devilish way that worked on her nerves, and all other pulses within her body.
“That is absurd. We shall not wed in a week.”
“Oh, aye, Mrs. Morgan. Your uncle’s wishes, and I’ve given my word. He wanted to make sure you were right and properly wed and your son protected.”
She stalked toward him, hoping he would move aside. If he did not, she would push her way through the door.
He removed his hand from the doorframe and allowed her to slide to his left. Just as she reached his side, he threw out a hand and grabbed her by the elbow.
“I’m not ready to be married. I—I—I have no wedding gown.”
He smiled down at her as she tried to pull away, all white teeth and wolfish grin. His silver eyes glittered as he stared at her bosom. “You can go without a gown.”
She pulled on her arm just as he pulled her forward.
“Release me.” There had to be some sense to this conversation, although a delicious jolt of pleasure settled among her limbs at the mere thought of being nude in his presence. “You know I cannot very well get married naked.”
“I do?” His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her in tighter to the hardness of his body. Her legs bumped up against his thighs and her stomach squeezed closely to his groin. She swallowed, having no voice to protest as heat radiated from him. That, and the decidedly hard evidence of his desire pressing firmly into her abdomen.
She fixated on his lower lip; the full, plump one. The thud of her heart and blood pounding through her veins left her unable to struggle, her knees quivering.
With aching slowness, his mouth came closer.
She raised her chin to look into his eyes and found them heavy lidded and gazing at her mouth. A hot, tingling sensation and searing liquid heat traveled all the way to her toes.
He was going to kiss her.
And, she could not deny the desire to melt into it.
In the moments she waited for the impact of those full lips, Anne lowered, then closed her eyes. The will to pull away faded into the warmth of his fingers upon her elbow. Tilting slightly forward unwittingly, and while her heart thumped heavily in her chest, she waited.
And, waited.
He stepped back, leaving a sudden coolness from the missing heat from his big body.
Her eyes fluttered open. He stared steadily back at her, a strange, intense heat in his steely eyes.
The warmth of his fingers released her arm.
Until now, she had never felt the heat in her cheeks or the rise of the flush creep so high on her neck and face, ever in her life.
His lips parted into a flashing grin of straight, white teeth.
A charming, all-male grin.
“Eliza has the children with her in the sitting room.”
She could have slapped him. She clenched her fists. She could plainly see he knew she expected him to kiss her, and that she was going to allow it; was, in fact, looking forward to it.
“Oh!” It was as much as she could muster without flying into a rage.
Instead, she stalked passed him, and stomped as unladylike as she could into the hallway, and down the stairs to the sitting room to find her babies.
The rascal had turned the tables on her.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Addison held his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the desk in his warehouse. He’d spent the latter part of last evening, furiously mucking out horse stalls in Cranford Hall’s barns, alongside John, his most able and trustworthy farmhand. John had stayed silent as they worked together to clear out the stalls.
When a few hours of vigorous labor hadn’t released all of the pent up frustration—and desire from the close call of kissing Anne Morgan against his better judgment—he’d taken to his room and emptied an entire bottle of brandy. He’d awoken to a pounding head and a foggy brain.
But, had that lessened the thirst for one redheaded, spoiled, tempestuous widow hell-bent on driving him insane? He no longer wanted to entertain the answer.
Not only did his brain thump behind his skull, but his manhood had been hard and throbbing as well. After a long swim in the creek that ran along his land—land now belonging to him because of his deal with the devil, as he’d like to call William Cormac—he’d calmed his blood, temporarily.
That left his aching head and trying to make sense of the paperwork involved in trading to new areas of the continent, including India and the West Indies.
“Are your business prospects so dire as that?”
Addison lifted his head, winced at the pain shooting through his skull, and grimaced at his friend and fellow merchant.
“My prospects? Aye. Business? No. It’s doing exceedingly well, if you must know.”
Henry Iles smiled widely as Addison maneuvered his body into a more businesslike position by sitting up in his chair. Henry’s sun-bronzed hair and blue eyes were an eye-catcher to single and married women alike. His friend stood nearly as tall as Addison, himself, with a lean waist, and well-muscled arms and legs.
Henry was married, however, and happily. Something that Addison hoped to attain someday.
He sighed and
let his head drop forward again into his hands. He was doomed.
“Aye, very well indeed. When we begin shipping together next month, we shall both benefit from these prospects.”
Henry took a seat opposite Addison at the desk.
Addison looked up slowly and nodded. Henry narrowed his blue eyes, tapped his fingers against one another, and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “You look as if you’ve had a rather rough evening, my friend.”
“Would that I could explain it to you properly, Henry. But, aye. A bottle of brandy will cause a devil of a headache.”
Addison would have liked to mention the voluptuous body of an ill-tempered widow would also cause a different type of ache, but he kept that to himself.
Henry’s brows drew together.
“Bloody hell, old boy. We have been friends going on three years and I’ve yet to see you in this state. What happened?”
Addison had known Henry since he’d first stepped foot in Charles Town two-and-a-half years before to start his venture. He’d been astoundingly helpful in the purchase of farmland, crops, and everything else he’d needed to be successful. Already a prosperous tobacco merchant, Henry had been in Charles Town for ten years. He’d been a loyal and trustworthy friend to Addison, and he’d come to depend upon Henry quite frequently. Even Henry’s wife, Isabel, had become as close to him as a sister.
Addison sighed, knowing he’d have to tell Henry sooner rather than later. The gossip would abound in town anyway, and would be apparent when everyone was invited to the wedding feast.
Raising his eyes to stare back at his friend, he grimaced again . . . not only from the splitting of his head, but the news he was to impart.
My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) Page 7