Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “You’re awake,” Sebastian was saying as he drew a stool near to her and sat down. In his masculine hands he held her copy of Robinson Crusoe.

  Smiling dreamily, she reached out for him with her uninjured arm. It was a luxury to see Sebastian relaxed and warm-eyed, to be able to touch him without someone yanking her out of reach and threatening to kill them both. Never again would she take a moment of life for granted, especially the life they were making together.

  “Sarah has brought tea,” she said. “Would you like some?”

  “Please.” He watched as Tristan went to help Sarah, then leaned down close enough so that his warm breath caressed his wife’s ear when he spoke. “How can it be that you look so beautiful when you’ve just had a near brush with death? There is something very nearly erotic in your expression.”

  “That’s because I’m looking at you, my lord,” she whispered back.

  Tristan was watching them. “Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m in the way?”

  Looking like an angel, Sarah brought their tea and turned to Tristan. “My lord, I would be pleased to fetch tea for you. Do you take milk and sugar? And what about scones? I believe that Mrs. Snuggs has just taken a tray from the oven.”

  Sebastian wore a look of mock indignation. “No one’s offered me any scones.”

  “Why, Lord Senwyck is a hero, is he not? When I think what he suffered—nearly dying on the cliffs—” Breaking off, Sarah gave a little sob.

  Tristan wore an expression of enchanted surprise. “Miss Faircloth, you are too kind.”

  “Why don’t you two go and see about those scones? Take the long, leisurely way around the garden,” Sebastian suggested drily. “Dr. Carter left instructions that Tristan should take as much exercise and sunlight as possible.”

  Julia closed her eyes for a moment, resting and listening to the sounds of her sister and Tristan setting off. It made her happy to think of them together. If anything, Tristan’s injury had only made him more attractive to Sarah, and she had taken to blushing prettily whenever his name was mentioned. It was far too soon to hope, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling elated by the sight of them together. Viscount Senwyck seemed to be the perfect man for her sister: handsome, witty, wealthy, rather roguish, and most of all, kind.

  “What makes you smile?” Sebastian asked. He threaded his fingers into the curls on her brow and brushed them back so gently that a shiver of arousal chased down her spine.

  She looked at him. “Sarah and Tristan. And you. Always you.”

  “Do you have any idea how badly I want to lie down next to you, hold you in my arms, and kiss you?” His eyes smoldered so that she could feel his desire. “But instead, I can’t touch you, and it’s worse torture knowing that I’m the reason for your injury.”

  “You are no such thing,” Julia told him emphatically. “No one is responsible for that but me. In fact, it is a lesson to me once and for all to stop meddling in the affairs of others. You told me often enough to trust you, and I should have. You knew exactly what to do that night, and if I had stayed away, no one would have been hurt.”

  He blinked in surprise, and then his eyes darkened. “Gammon. You thought you were saving my life! Do you have any idea what that means to me?”

  “But Sebastian, you didn’t need saving by me!” She laughed at the thought, and then her shoulder hurt and she winced. “You’re the one who does the rescuing around here, and I am finally quite happy to let that be the case.”

  “I’m not certain I want you to change.” A faintly sardonic smile touched his mouth. “Nor am I certain that it’s possible. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Just then, the door from the courtyard into the library flew open and Freddy emerged, carrying his fez in one hand. He grinned at the sight of Julia and Sebastian and walked over to stand before them.

  “I’m on my way to that old chapel you have,” he told Sebastian. “There’s that old Rood loft that no one ever bothered to take down after the Reformation, and it would serve as a bang-up minaret, don’t you think so? At least for the time being, until I am back at Turbans.”

  Sebastian’s brows went up. “You do have quite an imagination…”

  “Does it offend you, my lord?” Freddy broke in anxiously. “It’s just that your chapel ain’t really a chapel now, is it? It’s filled with a lot of farm equipment as far as I can tell.”

  “I don’t think that even God would be offended to see you make good use of our chapel. Go on then, and leave me alone with your sister.”

  As the boy cheerfully departed, Sebastian was surprised to realize that he was enjoying the presence of Julia’s family, even her eccentric mother, the whimsical Mr. Pippet, and Sylvester the spaniel who barked a bit too frequently.

  “Your mother and Pip aren’t going to burst onto the terrace next, are they?” he asked Julia.

  “They’ve gone off to stroll the Hall Walk with Sylvester,” she said in reassuring tones. “I confess that I am more concerned that Adolphus Lynton could burst in. My mind has been so muddled with laudanum these past three days that I am not certain what’s become of him. I had a dream that he came back to arrest us both.”

  Sebastian stirred milk and sugar into her hot tea and held the cup to her lips. “It might not have been a dream, for he did come that next morning. Your condition was still very grave and I was so enraged at the sight of him that I nearly killed the little stoat.”

  “You shouldn’t call him a stoat. Stoats are better than he is.”

  He gave a derisory laugh. “Lynton won’t be making any more trouble for us. Keswick reminded him that we are local heroes, particularly because we’ve provided the local fisherman with shipments of salt. The fact is, it’s nearly impossible to get a Cornish jury to convict smugglers, especially those they know.”

  “Furthermore, he found no cargo to produce as proof of smuggling, thanks to your resourceful and courageous plan.”

  “You are shamelessly biased,” Sebastian chided, then he continued, “The final blow to Lynton’s grandiosity came when Mr. Pippet entered the room, recognized him, and announced that there is a rumor circulating in Bath that Lynton only left town because he’d tried to seduce a fourteen-year-old girl who was his cello student. Fortunately, the girl was not intimidated. After she hit him with the bow of her cello and told her mother, the good woman set about ruining his reputation in Bath.”

  Julia put her hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh my, could he be a worse person?”

  “It’s tempting to think of him as a ridiculous worm, but men like that can turn vicious, as we saw on Lansallos Beach. However, I do feel confident that he’s gone for good now.”

  “That’s a great relief.” She closed her eyes again.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Perhaps a little, but I don’t want any more of that awful laudanum, at least not yet.” A moment later, she opened her eyes to find him wrapping a soft woven blanket around her legs. “It is one of the warmest days of the summer, my darling. I don’t need any blankets.”

  “Devil take it, Julia, I’d knit a dozen cursed blankets myself if it would take away your pain.”

  “That is so amusing an image, my lord, that I am tempted to ask for needles and yarn.”

  He arched a brow to acknowledge her wit, then remarked, “What about new furniture? Wouldn’t you like that? I’m fed up with that hard wooden settle in the parlor. Keswick and Jasper brought up the brandy from Lansallos Cove last night and there will be a fine profit from it, enough to make the repairs to the roof before the rains begin and order new furniture as well.”

  The love that showed on his handsome face made her heart turn over. “But, I thought you intended to leave Trevarre Hall behind forever after that last smuggling run. You said that you could only be happy at Severn Park, in Hampshire, breeding horses.”

  “I’ve said a lot of very stupid things, haven’t I,” he said ruefully. “I was a fool to think of leaving Cornwall, especially knowing how
happy you’ve been here.”

  “But I would never want you to make a choice like that simply to please me,” she insisted. “We are building the foundation for the rest of our lives. I’m sure we could compromise. “

  “No. It’s what I want. The man I thought was my father ruined this place for me, but you’ve helped me see it in a new light.” He tenderly traced the line of her cheek with his fingertip. “And, in case there is any doubt in your mind, I am finished with smuggling. Not only because of you, or because that fool Lynton knows, but because it’s over. I am ready for a new phase of life.”

  “No horse breeding or smuggling?” She teased gently. “How then will you pass the time, my lord?”

  “I intend to restore the fortunes of Trevarre Hall. Keswick has been telling me that when he was a lad and Mother’s parents were still alive and in residence here, this estate was the finest in the Fowey River Valley. The farm did handsomely, as did the lime kiln. Even the chapel was still in use.” There was an edge of real excitement in his voice. “It will be that way again, and we’ll make it happen together.”

  “We’ll have lots of animals and they’ll live with dignity,” Julia exclaimed, already imagining the possibilities. “There will be flocks of sheep to provide wool that we can sell!”

  “Yes. I have already secured a promise from Jasper Polarven that he will return as factor, and Keswick will work right beside us. I also hope to provide work for any members of my crew who need it.” Sebastian took a deep breath. “I want to do this not only for us and for our children, but also for my mother. I believe she had dreams for me when she left that bequest with Miles…”

  “Yes, and your mother would also want you to take an active part in Isabella’s life.”

  “I know. I’ve already written to Raveneau—that is, to my father, about that. We’ll bring Izzie here for the month of August and then discuss the future. Perhaps we can help her to study painting, since that is her dream.”

  Julia settled back against the cushions, beaming, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “I am so very happy.”

  “So am I, but there are moments when I can hardly trust such happiness.” Their eyes met and she saw his expression slowly relax under the radiance of her gaze. “There is something I have been waiting to give you. A few nights ago, I feared I had waited too long.”

  Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a blue velvet pouch, and from that he took a delicate gold ring set with two round sapphires. Julia instantly realized that it was something special.

  “Sebastian,” she said reverently. “It’s exquisite.”

  “I know now that Raveneau gave this ring to my mother, many years ago in France. It will mean so much more to me to see it on your hand.” Slipping it into place on her left hand, he added, “I thought that we might be married again. Would you like that? We’ll clean the chapel and have a small, honest wedding there before your family goes off to London.”

  Julia had begun to weep as Sebastian fit his dark hand to the fragile curve of her jaw.

  “It’s my fault that our first wedding was dishonest,” she managed to say at last.

  Wiping her tears with a fresh handkerchief, he leaned closer to gently kiss her lips. “The past can’t be changed. Neither one of us was fit for an honest wedding that rainy night in Bath.”

  “But now we are,” Julia affirmed.

  “That’s right, love. And after we say our vows properly, I mean to give you a wedding night that you will never forget…”

  Author’s Note

  I hope so much that you enjoyed Smuggler’s Moon and the story of Sebastian and Julia! There is quite a story behind the creation of this book and I’d love to share just a bit of it with you here.

  In 1994, my dear friend Ciji Ware invited me to come with her to England while she researched a novel she was writing (that became the fabulous “time-slip” A Cottage by the Sea). We stayed in a little National Trust cottage next to a secluded creek near Fowey, Cornwall.

  I felt much like Julia when I saw the River Fowey and the charming towns that frame its harbor: I was absolutely enchanted. Our cottage was set on Pont Pill, next to Sebastian’s lime kiln. Julia’s swans are still there, the little footbridge survives, and the Hall Walk is very real.

  I knew immediately that I wanted to write a book set there. Over the years, various things delayed that project, but I returned many times to that magical spot in Cornwall.

  Nearly every location in the book is real, including Lerryn Creek, Tristan’s little stone quay and smuggler’s hole, Lansallos Cove with its stone path, and the hidden beach at Coombe Hawne. Trevarre Hall is based on the still-operating Hall Farm, and the ruined medieval chapel is real. Bodinnick’s Ferry Inn and Fowey’s Ship Inn still receive guests.

  I hope you enjoyed reuniting with André and Devon Raveneau as much as I did! I’m back at work already, writing Book 2 in the Raveneaus in Cornwall series. This is Isabella and Gabriel’s story, set in 1808, and it’s already a huge favorite for me! I also have to tantalize you with the news that Book 3 will be a rousing adventure about a Raveneau who we all have thought would not get a happy ending…

  If you’d like to see photos of the real settings in Smuggler’s Moon, I hope you’ll explore the Pinterest Board I made. (And there are boards there for many of my other books!)

  http://www.pinterest.com/cynthiawright77/smugglers-moon/

  I am so grateful to you for reading my books and staying in touch with me. I would love to hear from you at Cynthia@CynthiaWrightAuthor.com and I promise to write back.

  Until next time—warmest wishes and happy reading!

  Cynthia Wright

  Cynthia Wright says: If you have enjoyed SMUGGLER’S MOON, I think you will love SURRENDER THE STARS, the story of André & Devon Raveneau’s youngest child, Lindsay, who travels to London (to spy!) with her parents—and dashing sea captain Ryan Coleraine, who is masquerading as her brother Nathan. I hope you will enjoy this special preview!

  Excerpt from

  Surrender the Stars

  Raveneau Novels, Book 2

  by Cynthia Wright

  Summing up the Prologue:

  It’s the spring of 1814 and the War of 1812 is in progress. Andre and Devon Raveneau live on the coast of Connecticut with their bluestocking daughter, Lindsay. Andre still owns ships, one of which is captained by Ryan Coleraine, a rakish Irishman. The book’s prologue finds the elder Raveneaus in Philadelphia, meeting with old friends who attempt to persuade the Raveneau family to go to Regency England on a mission for the president, with Coleraine taking the place of their son Nathan who is in the West Indies. Part One opens in Connecticut, where Ryan Coleraine’s ship, the Chimera, has just docked.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter 1

  Take heed of loving me.

  —John Donne (1572-1631)

  Pettipauge, Connecticut

  April 7, 1814

  Descending the Chimera’s gangplank, Ryan Coleraine set foot on American soil for the first time in one hundred days and smiled. Behind him, the privateer he commanded swayed at anchor alongside other proud ships lining the Point. Painted pale yellow, with a blue stripe between the wales, the sleek brigantine basked in the spring sunlight as sailors scurried over her decks and up the ratlines, unloading cargo and securing the lines.

  “Are you off to the Griswold Inn for a drink, Captain?” inquired Drew, the Chimera’s first mate, as he set a crate of rum on the wharf.

  Coleraine gazed distractedly out over the glittering Connecticut River. “Not just yet. I have to report to Captain Raveneau first on the success of our voyage.” He gave the young man a smile then. “When you and the others are finished here, come along to the Gris and I’ll buy you all a round.”

  “Thank you, sir! I can taste it already!”

  Ryan’s progress up Main Street was slow as various residents of Pettipauge stopped to welcome him home. The greeting jarred a bit, for Coleraine was there so little that he’d never felt that thi
s was his home. He was more at ease on board the Chimera, surrounded by a sweep of ocean, than here on this street lined with clean white houses and shops, budding oaks and rows of sunny daffodils.

  Young women turned to stare as the privateer captain passed by, but he was too preoccupied to notice. At thirty-one, Ryan Coleraine was sinfully attractive. Tall, lean, and strong, he was blessed with shining, crisp black hair that curled against the back of his neck, brilliant blue eyes, and chiseled features that were accentuated by his closely trimmed beard. Today he wore a white shirt, a simple, snowy cravat, a blue-gray waistcoat with a thin charcoal stripe, gray breeches that skimmed his long, hard thighs, and black knee boots. In his left hand, he casually held a midnight-blue coat.

  Approaching the Raveneau house, he considered what he wished to say to the man who had been his mentor since his arrival in Pettipauge nine years ago. Ryan had worked long and hard, earning Raveneau’s trust and saving his money. Now he was ready to strike out on his own. He wanted to buy the Chimera, which he had designed and christened himself. How would Raveneau react?

  The large Georgian house owned by the Raveneau family had been built on the right side of Main Street within sight of the ship-lined Point. Painted a warm, light yellow, in contrast to its white neighbors, the home seemed to exude contentment. Square boxwood hedges marked the boundaries of the corner yard, while budding elms arched before beds of jewel like crocus and narcissus. Ryan thought that the house’s windows made the inviting picture complete: green shutters framed open sashes and clean, fluttering curtains. It was hard for him to believe that when Raveneau was Coleraine’s age, he, too, had called the sea his home and had been a confirmed rogue and womanizer.