Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “Indeed?” Sebastian’s shoulders straightened and he cocked his head. “That’s very interesting. I’m grateful for your good memory, Hartly.”

  “Lord Sebastian, we’ll go on praying for your return.” The housekeeper reached out to clasp his hand. “I wanted to tell you that I personally looked after your mother after the carriage accident. His lordship was killed outright, but your mother was brought back here, and lingered for two days, though she never awoke. She had the best of care, from the physician and from all of us. And, when your brother, the new marquess, came and began sorting through the valuables, I hid some of the things I knew she would have wanted you to have.”

  When Julia saw Sebastian swipe fingertips across his eyes, she wished that she hadn’t come. There was no possibility of escape without detection, and the chance that he would see her was very real. Could he ever soften his heart toward her if he discovered that she’d spied on him?

  “My lord,” Hartley was saying, “may I be so bold as to request that you come inside to speak to the staff? It will reassure them to see you again.”

  “Of course, though I must be brief.” He followed the butler and housekeeper up the steps to the main entrance.

  No sooner had the doors closed behind them than Julia came out from behind the tree and hurried off down the drive, back to the safety of the waiting coach. Her heart was thundering as she considered how close she’d come to being discovered, and she promised herself that she would never take such a chance again.

  * * *

  The nuggets of understanding that Julia had gleaned at Severn Park carried her through the remaining three days of their journey, during which Sebastian kept more to himself than ever. When she could study his brooding profile from a safe distance, she felt her heart ease a little toward him. The memory of him talking with Mrs. Blodgett and Hartley, and the trio’s very real expression of anguish for what Sebastian’s brother had so carelessly discarded, haunted her.

  Meanwhile, Julia struggled to regain some control over her own fate. She reasoned that, since her husband did not mean to look after her future happiness, she would look after it herself. Immediately, her inner turmoil eased. Taking back control of her own destiny gave her a sense of freedom that was thrilling, like standing bareheaded in a rainstorm.

  That feeling settled over her in earnest after they crossed the River Tamar that divided Devon from Cornwall. Julia soon wondered if there was magic in the misty breeze that blew in from the English Channel, for each time she breathed deeply, she felt exhilarated. They kept to the south coast, where fishing villages clambered down the sides of rocky cliffs, and the blue sea shimmered in the distance. Everything was unexpected, from the clusters of whitewashed cottages to the narrow, twisting roads hemmed in by wildflower-studded hedgerows.

  How little I knew of the world, Julia thought, enraptured. Although she had loved Turbans and the refined beauty of Bath, Cornwall stirred her senses as dramatically as Sebastian did. It seemed that part of her had been waiting, slumbering, until this place of liberation and light could be discovered.

  She had always believed that people shaped their own fates, but now she reconsidered. It seemed that everything in her life had been leading up to this moment, when she gazed out at the enchanted place Sebastian had called “the end of the earth.”

  It felt to Julia as if fate had delivered her to Cornwall.

  * * *

  It was a glorious May afternoon when the coach rounded a wide bend in the road and came rumbling to a stop on a cliff high above the River Fowey. Even Sebastian was startled by the sudden view, and when he glanced back and saw Julia’s radiant face at the coach window, he swung down from his horse. Before he could fetch her, she had come to meet him, her face alight with enthusiasm.

  “I have never seen a more picturesque spot!” she exclaimed. “Are we near Trevarre Hall?”

  “Very near.” Something prompted him to put an arm around her waist as a cool breeze swirled about them, and he lifted his other hand to point southward. “Do you see, there are three villages. There, on this bank of the river, where the harbor mouth meets the open sea, is Polruan. It’s known for its staggeringly steep lanes and pilchard fishermen.”

  “Ah. I see,” she replied, smiling broadly.

  “And, across the river, that attractive town that resembles a French harbor is Fowey.” He pronounced it ‘Foy,’ and indeed, it was a handsome place. Terraced streets of slate-roofed dwellings formed a sloping maze down to the river’s edge, where tall-masted sailing ships rested at anchor. “Finally, at the bottom of this very cliff lies the tiny hamlet of Bodinnick, which isn’t much more than one narrow lane with a few cottages plunging down to the ferry.”

  Julia looked, and saw the ferryman pushing off with his pole toward Fowey at that very moment. Shielding her eyes against the sunlight, she thoughtfully retraced her surroundings. From their vantage point, she could see that most of the verdant, rolling landscape was taken up with woods, meadows, and plowed fields. On the cliff across from Polruan, a small round castle stood guard against the sea. Sebastian pointed southward to a wide gap in the riverbank, saying, “That’s the mouth of Pont Pill, a tidal creek that meanders through some of our land.”

  “What an odd name for a creek.”

  “In fact, ‘pill’ is Cornish for ‘creek.’ There’s a little, ancient footbridge by our old lime kiln, so that’s the ‘pont.’”

  “I can hardly wait to explore,” she murmured dreamily. “I should love to have a tiny boat of my own!”

  Sebastian looked at her in surprise, the wind tossing his black hair. “Would you, indeed? Perhaps that can be arranged.”

  At that, she quite forgot herself. “Oh, Sebastian, how can you not love this place?”

  Drawing back, he grasped her arm and led her back to the coach. “You have no notion at all of my life, or of my family, or of the godforsaken place that is Trevarre Hall. If you believe that you can will me to feel differently, you are sadly mistaken.”

  Stung, Julia fell silent as he put her inside and closed the door.

  With that, the tiny band of travelers continued north to a hidden lane high above Bodinnick. Passing between stone gateposts, Sebastian rode ahead of the coach down a muddy, weed-choked drive that, nonetheless, provided Julia with a panoramic view of the River Fowey and its pastoral environs. In the golden light of late afternoon, the effect was one of pure enchantment.

  However, alighting from the coach, she saw that Trevarre Hall was not enchanting in the least. The barns, stables, and other outbuildings were tumbling down and the farmyard was filled with ill-tended chickens, goats, pigs, and sheep that roamed at will right up to the ancient manor house. The sprawling Hall itself, though soundly built of stone and slate, was in a state of disrepair. A scruffy orange cat peered out at Julia through a broken window.

  “My goodness,” she said softly.

  “It’s even bloody worse than I remembered.” Scowling, Sebastian caught her before she stepped in a large pile of horse excrement. “Now do you understand? I can send you home to Turbans. I should have sent you back the moment I learned where we were being forced to live.”

  “Absolutely not!” Julia looked back toward the view of the beguiling world spread out along the river, and lifted her chin. “I feel as if I’m coming home.”

  “Madam, kindly spare me any further glad sentiments this day, or I may choke.” With that, Sebastian swung her out of the mud, up into his arms, and started toward the forbidding manor house.

  Chapter 14

  The remaining servants at Trevarre Hall were clearly not expecting visitors. When Sebastian knocked on the old carved door, there was no response. He found the rusted knocker and let it fall with a loud thud, and eventually the portal creaked open to reveal a tall woman of perhaps three score years. Her ill-fitting gray gown was pinned closed, and the bodice was crisscrossed by a fichu.

  “What d’ye want?” the woman demanded. A scent of strong spirits clung t
o her words.

  “Is that you, Mrs. Snuggs?” Sebastian could hardly believe his eyes. The housekeeper he remembered was younger, cleaner, and definitely more respectful.

  “It be me,” she snapped, peering at him. After a moment, she blinked and straightened her mobcap. “Lord Sebastian Trevarre? Can it be true?”

  “It is heartening to know that you recognize a member of my family.” His voice was heavy with irony. Looking past her, he glimpsed the sitting room off the front hall, cluttered and dirty. There were two big dogs slumbering in the middle of the tapestry rug, and a chicken scratched at the wide floorboards. “It would appear that you had forgotten us.”

  Just then a bent, unshaven old man came through from the back of the house. “Mrs. Snuggs!” he shouted. “Where be my cider? D’ye drink it all again, woman?”

  “Mr. Snuggs,” she replied, “can ye not see that there be visitors? ’Tis our own Lord Sebastian and his—his—”

  “Wife,” supplied Sebastian.

  “It be his lordship an’ her ladyship, come to see us.” Her tone had turned reverential. “Come and greet them!”

  Mr. Snuggs, sporting a soiled red waistcoat that did little to camouflage his large belly, looked as if he wished he could disappear. Bowing to the visitors, he added a toothless smile and inquired hopefully, “Do ye be passing on yer way to Truro?”

  “No, Snuggs, we are here to stay.” Sebastian arched a dark eyebrow. “My wife and I will be living at Trevarre Hall.”

  For a long moment, the old couple stared at each other in horrified disbelief, but before they could speak, a third servant came clattering down the stairway. The chubby young woman with brown hair, freckles, and a snub nose was carrying the same orange striped cat Julia had seen looking out the window when they arrived.

  “Look who I found, skulkin’ about! Sly Dick never stops tryin’ to court our Miss Clover,” the girl exclaimed. The sight of the visitors caused her to stop short and nearly drop the scraggly cat. “My stars! Who’s this?”

  Mrs. Snuggs dug an elbow into the girl’s side. “Primmie, meet Lord Sebastian Trevarre an’ his new bride. They do be plannin’ to live here now.” Turning to Sebastian, she said, “This here’s Primula Prim, yer lordship. She did come to the Hall backalong I be ill with the ague and needin’ help with my duties.”

  He cast a dubious eye at his surroundings. “Perhaps you ought to hire a few more serving girls,” he commented.

  Primmie tossed Dick the cat unceremoniously out into the yard, then returned to spread her aproned skirts, curtsying. “I be honored to meet your lordship and ladyship!” She glanced over at Mrs. Snuggs again and whispered, “Where’ll they sleep? Did you not boast that your own chamber do once be that of Lord and Lady Caverleigh?”

  Mrs. Snuggs had the good grace to turn red. “Foolish girl, come with me. There be work to do!

  As the two women hurried away, Sebastian glanced at Julia and muttered, “Amen.”

  * * *

  Moonlight streamed between the embroidered hangings to illuminate the bed where Julia lay wide awake next to a slumbering Sebastian. He resembled a Greek god to her, stretched out on his back, one brown hand splayed across his hard-muscled belly while his other arm was flung upward, above his tousled hair.

  His male beauty was almost enough to make her forget the room’s pervasive mustiness that mingled with the acrid scent of candle smoke. There was so much to do! Every surface was covered with dust, and when Julia had opened the big wardrobe that stood against the far wall, she’d discovered mouse droppings. When the sun rose, she intended to lead her rag-tag new staff in a thorough cleaning of Trevarre Hall.

  An owl hooted from the broken-down barn outside. The melancholy sound sent a fresh wave of uncertainty over Julia as she reflected on the life with her own family that now seemed so distant. Remembering the evenings that she and Sarah and Freddy had laughed together over games of casino or efforts at making profile portraits of one another, she blinked back tears. She longed even for the hand wringing of her mother and lessons with Freddy in the minaret.

  Most of all, she longed for her father, who had been flawed yet so constant in his love for her. Grief was an ache in her heart that never quite left her, no matter how distracted she might be by the unfolding drama of her new life.

  “Papa,” Julia whispered softly, “I miss you.”

  “Come here.”

  She looked toward her husband in surprise, wondering if she were hearing things. His eyes were open, watching her with a smoldering intensity that made her skin prickle. “I am sorry if I woke you, Sebastian. I didn’t mean to speak out loud.”

  “Come here,” he repeated, and gathered her into his arms.

  The comforting strength of his embrace almost caused her to whimper with relief. He slowly began to stroke her back with one deft hand, up and down, while he murmured sleepily against her ear. She closed her eyes, thinking that he smelled wonderful.

  “Julia, I’m sorry…sorry for your grief, and my part in it.”

  Knowing how hard this must be for him, she nodded, blinking back tears. “I am sorry, too…for tricking you.”

  He held her closer and soon her searching mouth found his. They found one another in a tangle of moonlit bedclothes, suddenly exchanging hot kisses with wordless urgency. Sebastian’s caresses roughened in response to Julia’s muffled cries. She couldn’t get close enough, tugging at her own nightgown to fit herself against him, her fingers searching the hard contours of his buttocks, his hipbones, and then finding the firm pulsing length of his maleness.

  Sebastian quickly drew off her nightclothes. Her breasts were pale and rounded above the narrow span of her waist and the curves of her hips. Since she wouldn’t stop touching him, he pressed her back into the lumpy mattress and held her arms down by her wrists. His mouth went straight to one swollen nipple, bathing it with hot strokes, then fastening on it and suckling rhythmically until he heard her moan deep in her throat and she struggled to open her thighs to him.

  Julia was throbbing and wet with a need that was incomprehensible to her. She couldn’t get close enough to him and somehow he seemed to understand, doing magical things with his mouth until she was shaking. Soon he was burning his way up to her neck and then kissing her mouth more deeply than ever before. She could feel his powerful heartbeat when he lay on top of her, dominating her in a way that she suddenly found utterly thrilling. Her hands were in his hair, his fingers probed so gently between her legs and she made low animal sounds in her throat. She felt him nod, his crisp dark hair moving against her sensitive breasts, and her fingers were tracing the contours of his face, as if he was a warm, living work of art.

  “Wait, wait,” Sebastian urged her. His kisses burned the satiny hollow of her belly, and then he was hovering above the damp tangle of curls between her legs. Softly, he let out a warm breath.

  Julia couldn’t think, only need, and it went far beyond her urgent physical longing for him. Her thighs were trembling. His fingertips deftly teased the swollen, sensitized bud as she emitted low broken cries.

  “Christ, you are so hot and wet,” he muttered.

  She sank her fingers into his hair and urged him closer, not even sure what she wanted, knowing only that her world was centered there and it seemed she would die without fulfillment. When his tongue found that most sensitive spot, Julia began to pant, unable to stop herself from pushing against his mouth. He suckled so gently, pausing and then beginning again, that at last sensations exploded outward from that swollen bud, shaking her to the core.

  He held her hips as she shuddered against him, and then he shifted upward and entered her, groaning with pleasure as he pushed inside until their bodies were joined. She met each of his thrusts with a fervor that surprised them both until Sebastian couldn’t hold back any longer and his own release came in burning waves of bliss.

  * * *

  When dawn came and Julia opened her eyes and discovered that she was alone, she wondered at first if it
had all been a dream. Then she saw that she was still naked beneath the sheets and she felt the tenderness of her breasts, and the soreness between her legs, and she knew the truth.

  And when she turned her face into the pillow, she inhaled Sebastian’s subtle, intoxicating scent and felt a new sort of ache, this time in her heart. A memory returned from the middle of the night when she had awakened to find his arms around her, brown against the paleness of her torso, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Just then the door swung open and Primmie appeared with a tray. “You be awake, my lady? I have your breakfast. Tea and porridge.”

  Julia sat up, holding the blankets close to her breasts. “Thank you, Primmie. Set it on the table, please.”

  “Yes, my lady.” When she glanced at the bed, a blush stained her chubby face.

  Unable to help herself, Julia asked, “Is his lordship here?”

  “No, my lady. He went off on horseback at dawn, with his manservant. My lord bid me tell you that he would bring food back later today.”

  “I see. All right. Well, then, I shall dress and join you downstairs shortly. Tell Mrs. Snuggs that we all have a lot of work to do to put this house in order.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Primmie replied doubtfully.

  * * *

  It was a discouraging day for Julia as she tried to establish some authority over her new and unwilling staff. She quickly realized that they were trying to test her. Mrs. Snuggs did a bit of cleaning up in the rustic, whitewashed kitchen, and then when Julia went to look for her to begin dusting and scrubbing the floors, she found the old woman asleep in a chair in the sitting room, a plush smoky-gray cat curled on her lap.

  “Mrs. Snuggs!” She shook her bony shoulder. “Wake up. We have a great deal of work to do and there is no time for resting.”

  “My lady, I do not be well. If you don’t leave me be, I’ll be of no use to you at all.”