Harriette’s hands grasped Luke’s arm hard. ‘Is all this true? Zan?’
‘By God, it is,’ Luke swore. ‘A heartlessly devious means of destroying any understanding between us. What man would wish to hear that his wife was capable of bringing innocent men to their deaths?’
‘Yes, I told Venmore a lie.’ Asnarl of a grin gave Alexander’s face a feral look. ‘Anything to bring you to your senses and back to the Pride.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘It doesn’t change anything, Harriette. You’re back here and I wager his lordship will be on the road to London as soon as his horses can be put to. I still want you, Harriette. Don’t throw away all we’ve worked for. I love you, Harriette.’
‘Love? You’ve no idea what love means. And you certainly love Lydyard’s Pride more than you love me.’ Harriette turned her face against Luke’s shoulder. ‘I pity you, Zan. There’s nothing in your life but ambition and greed. It will destroy you.’
‘Get out,’ Luke ordered quietly, aware that Harriette’s strength was drawing to an end. ‘Get out of this house before I boot you out of my sight.’
And when Ellerdine swung furiously from the room, Luke deposited Harriette back on the cushions and followed him to the steps where his horse waited.
With a hand on the bridle, a foot in the stirrup, Alexander Ellerdine looked back. ‘You can’t harm me, you know. We’re all in this.’
‘That’s the only reason I don’t hand you over to the authorities.’
‘You dare not. I’d be quick to tell them how the Earl of Venmore sailed in the Lydyard’s Ghost to bring a French woman and a cargo of contraband into England.’
‘You’ll get nowhere with that if you do. I’ve had enough of blackmail to last me a lifetime.’ Luke reached one hand to grasp the bridle, the other Alexander’s sleeve. ‘I’ll not touch you, for her sake. Not today. But beware. My control might not last.’
Alexander Ellerdine mounted and drove his horse close. ‘One thing, Venmore. Whatever the evidence suggests—I am no Wrecker. That’s beyond the pale even for me.’ The set of his mouth held a bleak cynicism. ‘Nor did I shoot to kill. Murder’s not in my blood—but I don’t expect you to believe me. God damn you!’ He yanked on the reins. ‘Let go of my horse!’ And he spurred off, pushing his horse to leap the wall into the open parkland.
Harriette found herself unable to sit within the confines of the withdrawing room. Too restless, too disbelieving, too undermined by the brutal truth. Since the sky had cleared and the sun shone with mild warmth she opened the door on to the stone-flagged terrace and escaped from all she had been subjected to. A rustic seat under the leafy overhang of a pergola offered her shelter out of the sharp breeze. If Luke wanted to find her there, he would do so.
How he must despise all Lydyards!
And there he was, striding along the terrace towards her, an easy, superbly co-ordinated stride. Dark hair lifting in the breeze, eyes narrowed against the brightness of the light reflected from the sea. Her heart beat faster and awareness shivered along her skin. This was it, the end, this was what Luke wanted. Their agreement was complete. She must finish it.
As he stood in the open window from the withdrawing room, Luke saw his love seated under a riot of late roses. There was no happiness in her. Only a strained stillness, as if waiting for an outcome she did not anticipate with pleasure.
What to do now? He had a promise to fulfil. He must keep it and arrange for her freedom from him. The knowledge that it was his duty to honour the agreement between them, to walk away from the woman he loved, slithered nastily. But what if…?
He watched as Harriette put up her hand to restrain her hair against the lively breeze. A pretty picture, but her eyes were sombre and chased with shadows. Of course she would not be happy, learning of her cousin’s betrayal. And she had lost the Ghost.
He saw her lift her hands to her lips, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
Did she have any feelings at all for him?
Would a woman who had no thought for him lie about her injury to ensure his safety? Would she risk her life to settle his debt of honour for a woman she did not know? Would she care so much for his safety that she would send him out of harm’s way and face the Riding Officer and his dragoons on her own? Would she risk her beloved cutter for him?
Was this proof of love?
Perhaps the answer was no. Perhaps he was fooling himself. But suddenly Luke decided he would take the risk, gambling everything, all his future happiness, on the final turn of the card.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Has Alexander gone?’ Harriette asked, suddenly not caring.
‘Yes.’ Luke grimaced. ‘With a final flourish of attempted blackmail. Don’t worry. He’ll get nowhere with that.’
‘You know it all now.’ Harriette breathed out slowly against the ugliness.
‘Yes. It could only be Ellerdine. We both knew it. I don’t think he cared what harm he caused, as long as he got his hands on this house.’
Luke was leaning back against the balustrade, arms folded, studying the irredeemable state of his boots. Keeping his distance, Harriette presumed. And who could blame him? Her family had not proved to be honourable. ‘You must feel satisfied.’
He looked up sharply. ‘Must I?’
‘You achieved everything you hoped for. Noir’s influence is at an end. Marie-Claude and the child are safe, you’re convinced of Raoul’s paternity.’ She swallowed painfully, but continued. ‘Now I claim my freedom, and give you yours in return, as we agreed.’
‘We did agree that, didn’t we?’ Once more Luke considered his dull, scuffed boots. ‘But I’ve changed my mind.’ His eyes, lifted to hers, were formidably direct. ‘I won’t give you your freedom.’
‘But…’ Harriette sought for some logic that had apparently eluded her in her confused state. ‘You don’t want me as your wife. You never did. And don’t tell me that you have a duty towards me because I saved your life.’ She controlled her words carefully as they snatched at her breath. ‘That’s just gratitude and no reason to change your decision.’
‘Then I shall, of course, tell you no such thing.’ Moving with startling speed, before she could blink, Luke had closed the distance between them, lifting her by her forearms, careful of her hurts, until she was standing closer to him than she cared to be. ‘You might want to close the bargain, but I will not.’
‘Why not?’
‘I love you.’
‘No…’ The word shattered. She could not bear his kindness, his instinct to protect.
Luke placed his fingers against her lips to silence her. ‘It’s not gratitude. I have discovered that I don’t have all I want. I want you. So I won’t keep the promise I made you. For the first time in my life I’ll break my word as a gentleman, so you can damn me for dishonour if you so wish. But I want you, Harriette. I love you. And I’m damned if I’m going to live without you for the sake of a pledge made under duress.’ Unsmiling, he kissed her with unnerving severity, robbing Harriette of any breath she had left. ‘There’s only one way I’ll give you your freedom. And that’s if you tell me that you do not—cannot—return my love.’
‘No…’ Harriette struggled to take it in. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Do you love me?’
Luke’s hands on hers were strong, as if he would never release her, his eyes, more grey than green with swirling emotions, demanded that she reply with truth, whilst the lines of tension beside his mouth told their own tale. Beneath the habitual mask of reserve she saw an aching loneliness that wounded her heart. He had shouldered the burden alone because he had seen no other way to protect those involved, including herself. But now he had had the courage to confess his love for her, and his stern resolve that Harriette, too, should open her heart poured over her, destroying all her defences.
‘Tell me the truth,’ he demanded. ‘You’re under orders here, Captain Harry. Do you love me? I’ll allow no dissembling—we’re past the time for that.’
&nbs
p; ‘Ah…Luke!’
‘Well, do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply at last. ‘I have loved you since I first saw you, without sense, without reason. When you seemed to be nothing but a man without honour and a traitor.’
Harriette watched as the smile of relief lit his eyes, transforming them into brilliant emerald again, but still the tension remained in every muscle of his body. He looked down to their clasped hands, brushing his fingers over the ring he had placed there so few weeks ago.
‘Can you forgive me for not trusting you, for not taking you into my confidence?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes. For did I not believe you capable of vile treason?’
‘It’s no excuse for my damnable pride.’
Harriette leaned forwards to rub her cheek against their linked fingers. ‘I can’t believe that you still want me.’
‘I do and I’ll prove it.’ And he swept her up into his arms, holding her close when she insisted, breathlessly, hopelessly, on her ability to walk unaided, and carried her back to her room.
‘I should leave you here to sleep.’ And would, whatever it cost him if that is what she would ask of him.
‘No. Don’t go.’ Harriette held out her arms, an irresistible invitation.
‘I might hurt you.’ His heart beat hard. He knew the limitations of his control.
Now her hands were tightly clasped on his shoulders. ‘You will hurt me more if you leave me alone. I love you, Luke, I adore you. I want to lie in your arms and know that your love is not some make-believe of my own imagination that will fall around my feet, an insubstantial dream, when I wake.’
Luke locked the door.
He was very gentle with her, holding her as if she were a fragile bloom, its newly opened petals threatened by a freakish gale. Naked, skin warm against silken skin, her head cushioned on his shoulder, they lay for a long time not speaking—there was no need. Motionless except for the rise and fall of heightened breathing, savouring the pressure of soft curve against hard muscle, the mingling of warm breath.
Until for Luke her nearness became too much, his erection hard, insistently demanding release. On an indrawn breath he moved from her, the few inches between them yawning as so many miles as he regretted immediately the cooling of flesh.
‘Luke…?’ Still uncertain of this new, bright love. Harriette’s eyes were wide with apprehension.
‘My love.’ He reached across the divide, his lips completely reassuring against her brow. ‘I want you, but I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘To inflict more pain on you than I have already done?’ All she could see was his love for her shining in his eyes. Harriette placed her fingertips on his chest, allowing them to stroke softly down, resting lightly on his hips before skimming across the muscled contours of his flat belly to enclose him in her palm. She pressed her lips to the pulse that hammered at the base of his throat. ‘Why can you not?’ she repeated.
It was Luke’s undoing.
Hands at her waist, in one powerful tensing of muscle, Luke raised her above him as he rolled, lowered her slowly, gently, straining to take her weight on his arms until she covered him, surrounded him. Until, sinking down, she took him in, a dark satin that robbed him of all thought. She was all heat and slick demand to be filled, possessed by him as she set her own rhythm and he could do nothing but allow it. And Harriette leaned to kiss his mouth, her hair falling to envelop him in a shining curtain of living silk.
‘See? I am not so broken that you cannot touch me.’ Her lips teased, her smile was joyous.
‘No, but you are hurt and I would have a care.’
‘You have healed me.’ Her eyes were glorious.
Luke moved with her, protective of her, conscious of the linen bandaging. How compelling she was, how alluring, how impossible to resist. He could not have refused her even if he had wished it. As heat and power built and built, Luke exerted every grain of control, hovering on a knife edge of relentless need. Without mercy Harriette drove him on and, hands holding her hips strongly against him, he responded thrust for thrust, until he felt the rippling clench of her muscles around him. Harriette shuddered, cried out, and he could cling to that edge no more.
Luke fell into the darkest of pleasure, aware at the last that her breathing was as challenged as his. And that Harriette’s gasp, her cry, was one of satisfaction, not of pain, as he pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her hair.
By tacit agreement they rose, robed, linked hands, and, Luke carrying a branch of candles, made their leisurely way to the Tower Room, his arm lightly on her shoulders, stopping when the urge took them to exchange kisses, to whisper in inviting corners. Once there, oblivious to dust and cobwebs, they crossed the room to stand at the unshuttered window from where they could watch the dusk fall, encroaching across the sea, the cliff top, shrouding everything in anonymity.
Studying their reflections in the darkened glass, so close, so intimate, Luke’s surrounding and protecting hers, Harriette knew what she must say, and spoke to their mirror-images. ‘I have made my last run. On my honour. No more smuggling, Luke. No more Captain Harry.’
Luke watched her face in the reflection. This was the decision he had wanted from her, but would not have forced her to make. No smuggling, no dance with death or arrest. No risk of a hostile sea and a dangerous shore in the dark of the night. It was none of his doing, she had come to it in her own time, yet still he held on to the victory that burned through his blood.
‘Will you miss it? The excitement of it? The wild thrill of outsmarting the Prenventives?’
‘No.’ Harriette affirmed without demur. ‘Once I did. Now that is past.’
Stepping from his embrace, Harriette lifted the lamp from the table and set it on the floor in the corner of the room. Closed and fixed the shutters so that no light would shine from the Tower. Such a simple action, yet a symbol of their new life together. She returned again to stand with him and they joined hands.
‘Any regrets?’ he asked.
‘That I rescued a waterlogged, bloodied spy? No, I have none.’
Luke pressed his lips like a whisper of love to her cheeks, the line of her jaw, the elegant curve of her neck, her closed eyes…where he tasted the salt of tears.
‘Ah, Harriette…Do my kisses make you weep?’
‘No.’ But her eyes shone silver in the light. ‘Oh, Luke—I’ve lost the Ghost and I loved her dearly. How shall I teach our children to sail?’
Luke kissed away the tears, inordinately touched. ‘You shall have another.’ His smile was a little wry. ‘Who would believe I would take a bride who’d rather I give her planks of wood than a diamond necklace? But on one condition…’ lifting her chin with his hand so that he could see her face ‘…a new vessel, a new name for her.’
‘What would you call her?’
‘Venmore’s Prize. For that’s what you are to me, my dear love. A prize I shall treasure for the rest of my days on this earth, and beyond.’
How fitting. Enclosed within Luke’s strong arms, Harriette felt as if she had at last come safe home to harbour.
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All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2009
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Anne O’Brien 2009
ISBN: 978-1-4089-1389-5
Compromised Miss Page 26