by Anita Mills
“Randolph’s a bully now, and suffering a thousand times more than you,” Hugh promised.
“Truly?”
“Sailor’s honor.”
“You avoided the question of how I look. Is it bad?”
His first impulse was to shrug, but from the moment she stepped into his life, Lily Hamilton had shown a strength of will that demanded honesty. In this matter he could tell her the truth. “Your lovely cheek is bruised, and your luscious bottom lip has a wee cut on it.”
“You make it sound inconsequential.”
Her bruises would heal but what of the injury to her heart and her soul? What of her disillusionment? Protecting her became vital to Hugh, as if his own life hung in the balance. “You’ll mend, Lily.”
“What are you thinking?”
What could he say to her that would soothe and satisfy at once? He couldn’t blame her for running to her family; propriety dictated that she flee her abductor. A truth seemed his best choice. “I was thinking that you do not deserve such poor relations.”
Her sadness seemed tinged with irony. “I think I know how the MacDonnels feel.”
Guilt swamped Hugh, and his conscience urged him to bare his soul. Years of estrangement from the evil that gripped both his clan and hers stopped him. “You should have a loving family, Lily.”
“Tell me about yours.”
Her earnest plea went straight to his heart. Taking her hand, he threaded their fingers. Her knuckles were scratched, her once neatly pared nails ragged. Stifling a surge of renewed anger, he cleared his throat. “I have only a sister.”
She looked not at him, but at their twined hands. “Were you friends as children?”
“Fiona is much older—ten years.”
“Do you share the same mother?”
“The same father.”
“What is she like, your Fiona?”
Fond memories warmed him, for Fiona had been the one calming force in his turbulent youth. Thoughts of her flourishing garden came to mind, but loyalty stopped Hugh from broaching the topic closest to his sister’s heart. “She has hair like yours, except ’tis straight as a stick, so she says. From the time I could walk, I remember the teasing she suffered.”
“Let me guess.” With her free hand, Lily flipped a strand of her glorious red hair. “The churchwomen gave her pieces of coal to keep the bad spirits away. The midwife sent her decoctions of lemon grass to fade the unlucky color.”
Hugh had to laugh. “Aye. To this day she loathes the smell of lemons. As for the coal, she used to say she could warm the castle with the fuel of the superstitious.”
“Where is the castle?”
It was natural that she should ask and prudent that he did not answer. “She doesn’t live there. She lives in my mother’s dower estate.” He hesitated, then added, “’Tis in Wigtown in Dumfries.”
Genuinely pleased, she squeezed his hand. “You’re a Douglas, then?”
He couldn’t lie, not tonight. “I’m a man who thinks you should rest.”
Disappointment framed her features, and her eyes went out of focus. “Are we under sail?”
With the grace of a skilled diplomat, she had changed the subject. He should be grateful for the conversational reprieve. Instead, he felt an acute loss. “Full sail. We’re Liverpool bound, to fill the hold with hats and stays and furbelows for the fashion-starved ladies in the Virginia Colony.”
Looking up at him, she tried to smile. “Thank you for risking your life to save me.”
A MacDonnel had saved a Hamilton. Only one person would believe the story. Fiona would also praise him for his gallantry. What his father would do didn’t bear consideration. An understatement seemed appropriate. “’Twas nothing.”
Modesty shined in her eyes. “’Twas gallantry at its best.”
“Merely necessity. I’ve grown fond of your fables.”
“Not as much as I anticipate your denials.”
The friendly banter seemed natural to Hugh, and he wondered why other women did not cultivate the knack. Probably because the talent was natural with Lily. As was often the case, he didn’t think of her as a Hamilton. Whether from his own estrangement from the feud or from her strength of character, he did not know. But he suspected the latter. She didn’t deserve to pay a price for the sins of her clan.
“Hugh?”
He harkened back to the subject. “You feel grateful.”
“If this is gratitude, then I’m a MacDonnel.”
Would that you were, he lamented. Would that you were.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look sad. Or have I been too bold?”
Minute by minute he was falling more deeply in love with Lily Hamilton. The situation both troubled and thrilled him. “I just remembered something.” He went to the desk and returned with a bag of coins. “Spanker took this money from your cousin.”
Reasonably, she said, “I couldn’t keep it. ’T wouldn’t be right.”
“A small price for your suffering, and sooner than not, dear Randolph would spend it on wine and women.”
Her chin puckered with disgust. “He has a wife and two bairns to support.”
“Then give the money to them.” The words were out before Hugh could stop them.
“Are you taking me home?”
At the thought of letting her go, he rebelled. It took every ounce of strength to say, “If that is your wish.”
She looked at him for so long he grew worried that she could see past his charade and into his MacDonnel soul. At length, she smiled a smile that eased his worried heart. “What I wish is to have three new gowns, a hat with fancy feathers, and a pair of slippers.”
“Will tomorrow be soon enough?”
“Aye.” Turning on her side, she drew his hand beneath her unmarred cheek and nestled into the pillow.
Hot desire, tempered by the need to comfort, spiraled through him. Observing the conflicting emotions made him chuckle. “You’re wicked, Lily Hamilton. And a lot of trouble.”
Her contented hum sounded more like a purr. “You’re just miffed because you have to sleep in the hammock.”
“Says who? You might need me in the night.”
Shyly, she whispered, “I’ve never had a friend outside my clan, and I find that I am coming to need you.”
“I should be crestfallen did you not. Oh, angel, you gave me a fright.”
Lily decided he had a voice and a manner as smooth as the molasses he favored. Gallant was too common a word to describe him. “And you’ve given me the time of my life.”
“Rest now.”
Rest? No. She couldn’t help thinking of Randolph—his bitterness and disregard for her feelings. She had sought refuge with her kinsman. He’d called her a whore and accused her of taking a MacDonnel for a lover. Details of the evening rose like nightmares in her mind.
“You even sailed on their bloody ship,” her cousin had said.
“Nay, Randolph. ’Twas the Westward Angel, a ship from the colonies.”
He’d backhanded her then, knocking her to the deck. As she tried to flee, he caught her by the hair, dragged her below deck, and shoved her into a cabin. Between curses and accusations, he damned her for shaming him and all the Hamiltons. Sadly, she realized that he cared more for the family’s reputation than for her feelings.
“You took a liking to that pretty pinasse, did you?” he said, his familiar face a mask of evil. “’Tis well you should, for it once belonged to you.”
She had tried to reason with him, but blind rage had him in its grip. “How could you do this to us, lass? Have you no shame?”
“You’re twisting the facts and making my misfortune your own.”
In reply, he busted her lip and demanded to know the whereabouts of a MacDonnel ship named the Golden Thistle. Baffled, Lily had said she did not know and reiterated that she had sailed on the Westward Angel.
“Liar!”
Her only prevarication had been the statement that her abductors sailed away
after putting her ashore. Thank God they had not, for she shuddered to think of the further abuse she would have suffered at the hands of her kinsmen.
They had seen the last of Lily Hamilton. Even if she had to scrub floors to make her own way, she’d never return to Arran. Then she thought of the dying rosebush on the old grave. Forsaking her family would be easier than abandoning the lonely soul buried on her island home.
Through the haze of her dilemma she felt the captain pull his hand from hers. A moment later the cabin door opened and closed. Compounded by her unfulfilled promise, the loss of his comfort left her feeling acutely alone. She slipped into a troubled sleep.
In Liverpool, half the crew was granted shore leave. Upon their return four days later, the other men took an equal furlough. Crates and barrels of shoes and stays, books and china, had been secured below. The shallow-drafted pinasse rode low in the water. Enough room remained in the hold for a pair of hunters Hugh intended to purchase for his own stables.
By the seventh day in port, Lily’s bruises had faded. The cook had prepared her favorite meals, and the crewmen went out of their way to cheer her. Between meetings with merchants and arguments with the harbormaster, the captain tended her wounds. Each time she asked him about the grave on Arran, he denied any knowledge of it. When she pleaded to know the name of the person who sent the roses, he stormed off, grumbling, “’Tis not my place to say.”
Lily believed him.
On his arm, she visited the dressmaker and the cobbler.
They returned to find the watch relieved and ship manned by a sparse crew. The cook served the evening meal in the shadow of the mainmast. Afterward, Lily and the captain strolled the deck, taking in the sounds of Liverpool harbor and gazing at the full moon.
“Tell me about your title.”
“’Tis an empty one, bestowed to keep me in Scotland.”
“But you prefer the colonies.”
“Aye.”
“The women must be bonny there.”
“Jealous?”
“Of their beauty? Nay. ’Tis their freedom I covet.”
He wasn’t surprised; she’d been a prisoner of Arran all her life.
“Tell me about the children in the Virginia Colony. Are the lads fostered?”
“Not usually. Most of the families are isolated by the size of their farms. Imagine if you can, a land so vast it has yet to be charted from shore to shore. A dozen Englands would fill the area we have explored.”
“Surely the children are schooled in some fashion.”
Her interest in the families didn’t surprise him; as a woman she would be concerned with hearth and home. “The wealthier families import English or Scottish tutors. The others use servants indentured for seven years.”
“Seems a high price to pay for passage.” It would be simpler for her to find employment here.
Hugh agreed that seven years was too long. Over the years, he’d seen hordes of eager faces pouring into the colonies. “’Tis the adventure they seek. Like you, they yearn for the freedom.”
She nodded and turned her attention to the dock.
Hugh wanted to ask her again to come with him, but he couldn’t, not until he told her the truth. If he bided his time and nurtured her love, perhaps she’d accept him for the man he was rather than the name he carried.
When he ordered the crew below, she asked. “Why did you do that?”
He guided her to the table but did not sit. “Since the cook put that trifle before us, I’ve had an unbearable urge to kiss you.”
They hadn’t touched the dessert. “Only since the trifle?”
“Step into my arms, minx. Your answer awaits.”
Willingly she did, and as his hands caressed her shoulders and skimmed down her arms, she thought his embrace the sweetest dessert imaginable.
“Close your eyes, love.”
Love. She liked the sound of that. Her eyes drifted shut.
“Open your mouth.”
Thinking of the intimate kiss she’d once declined and regretted, Lily did as he asked.
A spoonful of the trifle touched her tongue. A smile of pure pleasure blossomed on her face. “Hum. I want more.”
“Greedy baggage.”
“More.”
He stepped behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Unable to resist, she leaned against him. When he nibbled her ear, her breath caught.
“Do you like that?” he breathed.
She shivered, but innocently said, “Like what? Are you doing something?”
He chuckled. “Turn around.”
Lily couldn’t say why she hesitated.
He put his cheek next to hers. Freshly shaven, his skin was smooth and warm, and she wondered if the rest of his body would feel the same.
“You’re safe with me, Lily.”
Considering the direction of her thoughts, it seemed logical to say, “Aye, as safe as a fat mouse in a den of hungry snakes.”
His throaty laughter vibrated through her, and she turned in his arms, the velvet of her new dress rustling with the movement.
“Did I tell you that you look bonny tonight?”
“Yes. Before the beef and after the fish. Thank you again.”
Smiling he touched the coil of braids at the crown of her head. “May I?”
Wary of seeming naive, she said, “I’ll help.”
“Absolutely not. I claim this pleasure.”
Flattered to the tips of her new stockings, she watched him pull the pins from her hair. Silvery moonlight lined his elegant features, and she wondered for the hundredth time if he truly were a Douglas. His father must be powerful to buy him an earldom. But the ranking Douglas chieftain was only a viscount.
When Hugh buried his face in her hair, she forgot lineages and titles and gave herself up to his skilled seduction.
He groaned, then his mouth sought hers in a kiss unlike any he’d given her before. He coaxed her with tongue and lips, retreating now and then to let her take the lead. Her confidence grew and her own need soared until Lily couldn’t hold back a moan of surrender.
“Are you sure, Lily?”
His gallantry was showing, and she loved him for it. “Aye,” she whispered.
He swooped her into his arms and carried her below. Once in his cabin, he stood her by the bed. The moment her feet touched the floor, he laid into the kiss again. A whirlwind of pleasure churned inside her as his tongue thrust into her mouth, then withdrew. She gave chase, and he responded with a manly growl of satisfaction.
Warm, strong fingers traced the line of her shoulder and circled the column of her neck, then his lips followed the path. She felt his fingers work the laces on her dress, and she followed his example, but when her gown fell open and his hands touched her breasts, Lily went weak in the knees. She swayed into him, and he cupped her bottom, pulling her close, then shifting a little to let her feel how much he wanted her.
“Our bodies are very different,” she confessed.
“Blessedly so.” He continued to undulate against her.
She busied her own hands, mapping the muscles of his shoulders, arms, and chest. All adeptness, he loosened her petticoat and stays, then lifted her, leaving the garments to pool on the floor. Except for her stockings and garters, she stood naked before him, and the sight of her made him smile. “Sweetheart, you are bonny everywhere.”
She flushed. “But you’re still dressed.”
“Not for much longer.”
He ripped off his jacket and shirt, then yanked off his boots. His black velvet knee breeches hugged him like a second skin, and she couldn’t help but stare at the bulge of his manhood.
Uncertainty made her suddenly shy. He must have sensed it, for, as he laid her on the bed, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Worry not, Lily. We were made to join.”
From that moment on, she gave herself up to his loving, and when the sharp pain of his entry made her cry out, he paused, soothing and comforting with a gentle touch and whispers of encourage
ment. All patience, he rekindled her desire until she begged him to ease the beautiful torment. With one final thrust, he took her to a place of pleasure where she languished, feeling sated and thoroughly complete.
When their breathing slowed, he rolled to his side and pulled her against his chest. “How do you feel?”
Giddy to her soul, she laughed. “Like I kissed the pearly gates. And you?”
“Like I passed through them on the wings of angels.” He hugged her. “You are wonderful, Lily.”
The compliment warmed, yet she felt a chill of uncertainty. What would become of them now? Would he do the honorable thing and offer her his name? And what would that name be? She had an uneasy feeling that he lied, for not once had he mentioned the Douglas clan. She had asked the crew, but as she expected, they were loyal to their captain.
“What’s wrong, love? You seem distant.”
She hadn’t the nerve to voice her doubts. In their short time together she had experienced more of life than she ever expected to see, and she couldn’t bear for it to end.
Gathering courage, she looked up at him. “On the day we met, you asked me to go adventuring with you. Does the offer still stand?”
His eyes glowed with excitement. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything, but you must make me a promise. When our voyage comes to an end, will you help me find a position as governess?”
Hugh felt as if he’d been gut-punched with a mainmast. He’d risked his life, and for what? For a woman who wanted only a dalliance with him and then a damned reference. Lord, he’d been wrong about Lily Hamilton. Earlier she’d asked him about how the children in the colonies were educated. Now he knew why.
He closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him and ease his bruised pride.
“Will you?”
“But of course.”
Then she snuggled closer, running her fingers through the hair on his chest and sliding her leg over his. His body reacted with the zeal of a man too long at sea. Push her away, his pride said. Enjoy her while you can, his passion demanded.
Damning himself the weakest of all men, Hugh pulled her astride him and began suckling her breasts. When her glorious hair curtained around him, he was lost to all thoughts save those of her and the pleasure they shared.