Dance of Seduction

by Sabrina Jeffries

  After almost killing Clara…

  The blood rage filled Morgan’s vision, and he tightened his finger on the trigger.

  Then he felt Clara’s gentle hand on his arm. “You’re not like him, Morgan. Don’t make yourself like him.”

  “He was going to kill you,” Morgan rasped, the memory of his fear for her still seared into his senses.

  “Yes, and the law will punish him for that, so you don’t have to. You’re not thirteen anymore. You can trust the law to take care of this. You don’t have to endure blood on your hands in order to find justice.”

  Samuel made some inarticulate sound, and Morgan glanced over to see the young man watching, waiting to take his cue from Morgan. Samuel’s knife was still at the ready, and Morgan could tell he itched to use it. However Morgan acted now would shape the man’s life for years to come.

  “You’re better than this,” Clara said softly. “I know you are.”

  Morgan looked at her, at her face shining with faith that he would do the right thing. A pure faith in him.

  For the first time, he realized she was right. He was better than this. He was not and never could be a man like the Specter. Not even in Spitalfields.

  As the blood lust died abruptly in him, he lowered his pistol.

  “Kill me,” Fitch growled, clutching his bleeding leg to his chest at Morgan’s feet. “You know you want to do it.”

  “Yes,” Morgan admitted. “But not badly enough to lose what remains of my soul. So get up. Ravenswood and his men are waiting.”

  Clara sat with Samuel on a settee out of the way of the commotion. Morgan had ordered them to stay put while he dealt with Fitch, and she’d been only too happy to oblige. For one thing, she still shook from the terror of watching Fitch raise his pistol toward Morgan. For another, she didn’t want to interfere with the men who now swarmed over the house, searching for stolen goods and other evidence of the Specter’s activities.

  While some of Lord Ravenswood’s men carried Rodney Fitch off, Morgan and his lordship questioned Fitch’s still groggy footman. Then Lord Templemore arrived, and more chaos ensued as he demanded explanations and Lord Ravenswood had to provide them.

  “Who’s that fellow who looks just like the cap’n?” Samuel asked beside her, gaping at Lord Templemore.

  “That’s the Baron Templemore,” Clara explained. “He’s Morgan’s twin brother.”

  Samuel gave a low whistle. “Does that mean Cap’n Pryce is—”

  “Yes. And his real name is Blakely. He’s been working for that other gentleman there, trying to capture the Specter.”

  “You knew?”

  “I found out. The night I went to his shop, and he got shot.”

  “Ohhh,” Samuel said, as if that explained everything. “I did wonder how you could take up with a fence. Didn’t seem like you.”

  Eager to change the subject, Clara said, “How did you come to be here tonight?”

  “Not by choice, I can tell you that.” Samuel jerked his head toward Fitch’s footman. “That fellow the cap’n is talking to grabbed me as I was heading toward the tavern to see Lucy this evening. He knocked me on the head and carried me back here. When I came to, I was tied up in the basement, and he was telling me how his master was gonna deal with me later personally after he got back from some meeting.”

  “Fitch claimed he had paid you to leave London. I suppose he had a more permanent removal in mind.”

  “S’pose he did.” Samuel shuddered. “When the footman left me alone down there in the dark, I had time to get my blade out. Y’see, Cap’n Pryce had taught me how to hide it so nobody could find it. That henchman of Fitch’s wasn’t too smart, anyway, so he never took it off me. It took me all this time to work the blade free and cut myself loose, but soon as I did, I came upstairs to see what was going on.”

  “And did your part in saving my life and Morgan’s.” She patted his hand. “You paid us a good service tonight, and I’ll make sure you’re amply rewarded for it.”

  “Didn’t do it for no reward,” he said with a shy smile. “I did it for you, m’lady. You brought my Lucy back to me, and I can never thank you enough for that.” He looked up and then broke into a grin. “And speaking of Lucy…”

  “Samuel!” shrieked a female voice from the doorway as Samuel rose.

  Lucy vaulted into the room and straight for her sweetheart. “Are you all right? They said you fought with Mr. Fitch!” She ran her hands everywhere, checking for wounds. “I swear, if he hurt you—”

  “Naw, he didn’t hurt me, love.” He caught her in his arms. “And I didn’t really get the chance to fight—”

  “They’re saying you’re a hero,” Lucy went on, ignoring his protests. She kissed him soundly on the lips. “And you are—you’re my hero.”

  “Aw, Lucy,” he said, blushing a deep rose, “I only did what a man ought for the woman he loves.”

  Nonetheless, he was clearly basking in her worshipful words as the two of them drew off a ways to reassure each other that they were whole and safe.

  Watching the two sweethearts bill and coo only solidified the decision Clara had made somewhere between leaving the town house and now. She glanced over to where Morgan conferred with Lord Ravenswood and Lord Templemore, and love surged through her like some life-giving potion.

  How had she ever thought she could let him sail away without her? She couldn’t, no matter what it meant. Indeed, she’d be hard-pressed to let him out of her sight again.

  As if he felt her gaze on him, he glanced toward her and a smile leaped to his lips. Murmuring a few words to his companions, he left them to come sit beside her.

  “We’re almost done here, angel.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Then I’ll take you home.”

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said fervently. “I want to be with you.”

  His smile broadened. “That could be arranged.”

  “And not just for tonight,” she went on, determined to say it all before she could change her mind. “I want to sail with you. I could never bear being too far away from you to pick up the pieces when you get yourself into trouble.”

  His eyes warmed. “I’m not getting myself into any more trouble, angel.”

  “You say that now, but I know you. The minute you see a wrong committed, you’ll throw yourself into setting it right. Next thing I know, some villain will be hurting an innocent and you’ll be rushing into danger to save them and—”

  He kissed her hard, thoroughly, his mouth blotting out every thought in her head. When he drew back, he was grinning. “I’m not getting into any more trouble, angel, because I’m not going to sea. I’m staying right here in London with you.”

  She stared at him, hardly daring to believe him. “Y-You are?”

  “I hope that meets with your approval, because it’s too late to change it. I just accepted Ravenswood’s offer of a position in the Home Office. And in case you’re worried, he assures me it has nothing to do with pirates or smugglers or fences or—”

  With a squeal of delight, she threw her arms about his neck. “You’re staying! You’re really staying in London with me!”

  He laughed as he hugged her to him. “Yes, ma belle ange, I’m staying in London. With the woman I love.”

  She drew back, startled. “You love me?”

  “Of course I do. Do you think I’d give up my exciting life at sea for just anyone, cherie?”

  His words made her heart sink. “Oh, Morgan, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t truly want to do, and you did say you couldn’t bear to live in London.”

  “That was before you forced me to see myself the way you see me—not as a rogue masquerading as a gentleman, but as a man. One who makes mistakes like any other. And who can learn to live with them now that he has an understanding woman at his side.”

  Hope swelled in her, too irrepressible to resist. “Are you sure? Because if you truly need all the excitement you find at sea—”

  “The on
ly thing I need, angel,” he murmured, lifting his hand to cup her cheek, “is you. And if I take you away from the work and people you love, I know I’ll lose a very special part of you—the part that wants to save the world, the part that cries for children with no hope, the part that braves any danger for the sake of those you love. You’re right—if we go to sea together, it would only be a matter of time before you grow to resent me, and I grow to resent your knowledge of who I really am.”

  With a smile, he caressed her cheek. “But I’m not afraid of who I really am anymore. Besides, you belong here, and I belong with you. So as long as you keep looking at me with love in your eyes, I intend to stay where we both belong. Even if it’s in London.”

  Under the steady sincerity of his gaze, her fears melted away. This was not the same Morgan who’d balked at facing his past. This Morgan knew exactly what he wanted, and by some miracle what he wanted was her.

  “All right,” she said softly. “Stay here with me.”

  A wicked light entered his eyes. “But I do have a few terms you’ll have to meet.”

  She eyed him warily. “Like what?”

  “I’ll want to take you away from your precious Home for a wedding trip.”

  Relief coursed through her. “I believe I can manage that.”

  “And you must swear never to go anywhere near a loaded pistol again.”

  She laughed. “What? And miss the fun you’ve been having all these years?”

  “Very amusing, Clara, but there will be no negotiation on this one.” He cocked one eyebrow up. “Every time a gun goes off near you, I lose half a lifetime, and if you think I’m going to—”

  “All right, all right, you win. I swear never to go near a loaded pistol again.”

  “That’s better.” His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “And that leaves only one more condition, the most important one of all.”

  The way he was looking at her now made her blood quicken. “What’s that?”

  “You must promise never to stop loving me. Because I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”

  Drawing his head down to hers, she murmured, “As long as you promise the same thing, my darling, that is one promise I can definitely keep.”

  Epilogue

  He married Beauty, and lived with her many years,

  and their happiness—as it was founded on virtue—

  was complete.

  “Beauty and the Beast”

  from The Young Misses Magazine,

  Jeanne-Marie Prince de Beaumont

  Clara couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day for the dedication of the Home’s new site. Nothing but summer sunshine greeted them this morning, the fragrance of honeysuckle permeated the grounds, and thrushes provided the musical backdrop. Why, the children would be ecstatic when they arrived.

  Taking a moment from overseeing the servants who were setting out refreshments on long tables, Clara surveyed her new domain. In under three years, the volunteers had transformed the abandoned pleasure garden into an idyllic place for children.

  And it was largely thanks to Morgan and his family. Uncle Cecil’s bequest, ample as it was, could never have built all this. But with Sebastian’s donating the land to the cause and Morgan’s convincing so many of his naval officer friends to help with the building and design, the overall cost of establishing a new site for the Home outside of Spitalfields had been much lower than expected.

  It had certainly helped that donations to the Home had improved, thanks to her new notoriety. Ladies clamored to help the marquess’s daughter who’d played a part in capturing a dangerous criminal. The Specter’s trial had been the talk of London for months, and now even Spitalfields felt safer, though she was still glad to have her charges away from there.

  Juliet strolled up, smiling broadly as she tugged two of her three children along. “I told the girls that Uncle Morgan would take us on a tour of the house before the guests arrive, but now I can’t find him anywhere.”

  “He went to help Samuel open all the windows.” With Mrs. Carter planning to retire to the country, Samuel and Lucy would be taking over the day-to-day operation of the new facility. “We didn’t expect it to be so warm and fine today, but now that it is, Morgan says the fresh air will add to the house’s attractions. Who knows, we might even weasel a donation out of Lord Winthrop?”

  Juliet laughed. “I doubt that. If his lordship even shows up, it will be a miracle. He’s still peeved that you married the man he sees as the devil incarnate.”

  Fortunately, Lord Winthrop was the only one who disliked Clara’s husband. Who could not like the dashing naval captain who’d proven himself a hero? Not to mention that Morgan had done very well for himself in the Home Office. He’d impressed them all with his coolheaded, practical approach to matters concerning the policing of London. Robert Peel, the new Home Secretary, even spoke of making Morgan head of the commission to discuss a metropolitan police force.

  And with every accomplishment of Morgan’s, his family grew only more ecstatic. Sebastian beamed with pride whenever his brother was mentioned, and Juliet had long ago forgiven Morgan for breaking his wager.

  Especially, as she was so fond of saying, when it had brought her such an amiable sister-in-law.

  “And where’s my little niece this morning?” Juliet asked. “Surely you didn’t leave her with the nursemaid.”

  Clara laughed. “Morgan would never have forgiven me. I can’t seem to convince him that a nine-month-old baby has little appreciation for the finer points of architecture. He insists that she be part of everything. Although at the moment, Lydia is with her great-aunt Verity and her great-uncle Lew. In fact, here they come now.”

  Aunt Verity came up from the woods cradling Lydia in her arms and casting brilliant smiles upon her, just as Cinderella’s fairy godmother had cast spells upon her own charge. Beside them gamboled Fiddle, Faddle, and Foodle, though Empress had taken the other side, next to the man who accompanied them—Morgan’s uncle Lew.

  “Don’t they make a charming couple?” Juliet whispered. “Uncle Llewelyn has been a widower for so long I’d despaired of his ever marrying again, but I think your aunt might just be able to tempt him.”

  Given the worshipful way Empress dogged Uncle Lew’s heels, as well as the man’s continuing indulgence of all Aunt Verity’s peculiarities, Clara was inclined to agree with Juliet. Certainly Aunt Verity deserved to finally find a companion in life.

  Aunt Verity halted in front of them. “We’d like to take little Lydia down to see the swans at the pond, but Llewellyn—I-I mean, Mr. Pryce—thought we should ask you first. He was afraid you might worry about having the baby so near the water.”

  “It’s fine with me,” Clara said, “long as you’re not planning on dangling her over the edge or anything.”

  “No, indeed!” Oblivious to Clara’s dry tone, Aunt Verity clutched the baby to her chest in abject horror. “We will keep her quite a safe distance away from the water, I assure you. Won’t we, lassies?”

  A chorus of barks signaled the dogs’ agreement, and Morgan’s uncle Lew chuckled.

  “We’ll go with you,” Juliet said. “I know the girls would love to see the swans. Will you come, too, Clara?”

  “Not yet. The carriages will be arriving any minute with the children, and I want to make sure we’re ready, because once they storm the place…”

  She didn’t have to finish the sentence. They all laughed.

  As soon as they were gone, she headed through the woods toward the house. Morgan met her halfway there, looking a bit disheveled from all his labors. Catching sight of her disapproving glance, he smoothed his hair down with a grin. “Come to check on me, angel?” He captured her with one arm about her waist, looking so endearingly repentant for mussing his clothes that she couldn’t help smiling.

  She straightened his cravat. “No, I just wanted to make sure everything is ready.”

  “I took care of it. And I assure you that anything I missed was c
aught by Lucy or Samuel or Johnny. I think even Tim had a part in readying the place.”

  She cast an anxious glance through the woods toward the house. “I should make one last check—”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Morgan whispered, eyes twinkling.

  And before she knew what he was about, he was tugging her off the path toward the arbor.

  “Morgan!” she protested weakly as he dragged her beneath the honeysuckle curtain and into the cavelike interior. “You cannot possibly think to—”

  His hot, needy kiss cut off all protest. When he drew back, he was grinning. “You were saying, my love?”

  “The children will be here any moment, you randy devil,” she warned, though desire pooled in her belly. “The guests won’t be far behind. What will they think if they discover us in the arbor doing…well…you know?”

  He laughed heartily. “Considering that you asked me to ravish you the first time we were alone together, you can sometimes be surprisingly modest.”

  “You think so, do you?” she said, eyebrows raising. “Very well, I’ll make you a bargain. If you can restrain your manly urges for the entire day, I’ll give you what you want tonight.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “A chance to taste me.” Then she took his hand and flattened it against her breast. “To caress me.” Stretching up on tiptoe, she nipped his earlobe and whispered, “Whatever you want.”

  His breath quickened against her cheek. “I want to ravish you.”

  “Fine,” she retorted, then pushed him away. “But not until tonight.”

  He sighed. “All right, you win. But I’m holding you to the bargain, angel. And I want to do it here. After all the guests are gone, and the children are settled in for the night. Let Juliet take Lydia for the night. Or even your aunt.”

  She sucked in a breath. It had been months since they’d been completely alone together, without having to stay alert for the baby’s cries in the nursery that adjoined their bedchamber. And Lydia was newly weaned, after all.