The Right One (One and Only Series)

by Samanthya Wyatt

  This heart-wrenching story of his life created a need to sooth, to touch. Her fingers strained to smooth the blue-black curl from his sorrowful brow. Her arms ached to hold him, to tell him everything would be fine. “He,” she croaked. “I too lost my parents.” Unshed tears clogged her throat. “Carriage accident . . . lightning . . .” she hiccupped. “. . . a tree . . . I was f-fourteen.”

  Morgan held his arms open and she fell into them. He embraced her with soulful tenderness. For long moments, tears rolled down her cheeks soaking the material on his shoulder. She relished the warmth that seeped from his hands into her back muscles, extending through her limbs. How wonderful it felt to be held in his arms. A compassionate man giving her peace, and warmth, and tenderness.

  He led her to the linen covered sofa, then motioned for her to sit—never letting go of her hand. He sat beside her, their knees almost touching, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “I’m sorry. When I told you . . . I had no idea.”

  She dabbed at her tears with the monogrammed linen.

  “Please forgive me for bringing up such painful memories.” His voice gruff with emotion.

  She ached more from seeing the raw concern in his eyes. “There are pleasant memories too. Wonderful recollections.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Would you share those remembrances with me, Katherine?”

  Pleased to see a smile on his handsome face, she gave him one of her own and told him of her love for her parents. How she’d been sheltered, pampered, and somewhat spoiled. Her parents respected each other and she reciprocated their love.

  She would never forget the pain of her parents’ death. She explained how she had been shattered when she lost them. Holding nothing back, she told him how she relived the nightmare in her dreams, waking in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face, to find it all too real. She survived the darkness and emptiness until Stephen had come home.

  “From the time I was a baby, I got exactly what I wanted. Stephen was never able to deny me anything. Until the day he told me I had to go live with my aunt and uncle.”

  He listened as though he cared—as if her words were important to him. Her heart opened and more words poured forth. “I begged. I pleaded for Stephen to take me with him. That was the first time he ever denied me.”

  “I couldn’t believe my brother was leaving me again.” Tears ran down her cheeks in earnest. “I’d just lost the two most precious people in the world. It felt like I was losing him too.”

  Morgan put one arm around her and pulled her head to his chest with his other hand. She snuggled while her fingers clung to the lapels of his coat. Safe—in the haven of Morgan’s strong arms. She wished she could stay there forever.

  Chapter 18

  An enormous full moon glowed against the midnight sky, providing the only illumination across the countryside just beyond the Indian border. Parts of India concealed split loyalties. And Giles had landed right in the heart of one. Crossing the ocean had taken less time than the weeks it took to find his quarry.

  When Giles had set off on this quest, he suspected to find the man ship-wrecked or in the arms of a willing woman. Not to be. When people were afraid, they kept secrets. Money changed hands in order to get the information they sought. And if their informants were correct, they’d be lucky if they found him alive.

  Crouched behind a boulder, He waited—every muscle in his body tense and on alert. Just like the old days. When he and Morgan fought devils incarnate. Instincts sharp and on the ready for any possible threat. His horse and the others blended in the darkness. He glanced around, squinting to sharpen his eyesight. One by one, each man vigilant, equipped and prepared. They followed him—their leader. No one knew he was a damned duke. His title would not help the situation.

  He intended to find Katherine’s brother if his life depended on it. Morgan needed this more than Katherine Radbourn’s uncle.

  Once the shock of Thornton’s summons had worn off, Giles accepted the nobleman’s request with fervor. Being a duke did not have his heart pumping or his reflexes honed like his old life. Giles looked forward to sinking his teeth in a new escapade. If Stephen had fallen into trouble, and he quite possibly had, Giles would get the fella out of any damned mess he may have gotten himself into.

  “Damn, it’s dark out here. I can’t see a blessed thing.”

  Giles kept his gaze straight ahead instead of looking at the man who’d spoken. “The point is for no one to see us.”

  “Place looks like a fortress.”

  With those stone sides it looked like a prison to him. “That’s why we wait here. If the men in there are unsavory characters, they’d shoot us down before we got close to their walls.”

  “I hear’d tell, there be bad-tempered brutes disagreeable to English blokes. Some don’t cotton to having an English colony hereabouts.” George spoke over the tobacco in the side of his mouth. “Some princes are fearful Brits are gonna take over their territory. And if the India chiefs happened upon our bloke, they wouldn’t take too kindly to him being an Englishman.”

  Giles agreed. One of them, most likely, hid within that barricade. “The pieces we found were from an English ship.” Which only confirmed Katherine’s brother’s ship went down. His jaw tensed and his fists clenched. If this stronghold held those offensive men and Stephen had been captured, then he’d already suffered unspeakable torture.

  A noise sounded to his left. His hearing sharpened and he narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the form he knew must be there. Elmes slid around the boulder with the stealth of a fiend. Assured his friend was safe, Giles relaxed the tendons in his neck.

  “He was here, alright,” Elmes said.

  They were on the right trail.

  Giles heart increased its tempo. He focused on one word. “Was?”

  “Some blokes breeched the walls and broke the prisoners out. A rebellious sort disagreed with the chief and ended up in there. The bunch that freed the rebel musta been his comrades.” Elmes shook his head as he took another breath. “Some ghastly things went on in there.”

  Giles unwound just enough to be thankful Katherine’s brother had escaped. “At least he’s not in that hell hole.”

  “Don’t go getting too excited. One of the fellas was in bad shape. Described him as tree-trunk-size. Some bugger wanted to leave him for dead, but the boss of the lot wouldn’t leave without him. Said he withstood more than another man could take.”

  That’s not the first time Giles had heard tree-trunk used to describe the man’s size. Although, if he’d been tortured and probably starved, he’d diminished somewhat in size.

  This particular Rajput chief is proud of his social and religious identity, but he don’t agree with the Emperor. Tradition and all that. Resents the British Empire. When the captain’s ship crashed, the chief captured the crewmen who made it to shore. Killed ‘em and made their captain watch. Poor devil sounds like our man.”

  Giles hands fisted tighter with every word. The pain in his neck spread through his head and pounded behind his eyes. Good God. He knew from experience, the screams of men under your command cut worse than any knife.

  Elmes pulled a twist of tobacco from his pocket and bit off the end. “The louts are looking for ‘em. Bloke I talked to, said these men are a breed of their own. They don’t go by the Emperor’s law. His words—the chief is a ‘blood thirsty, evil monster’.”

  Fury ate at the bile churning in Giles’ stomach. Cruel, evil men. Madmen. He’d dealt with this sort before. Clenching his jaw, he sucked air between his teeth. “Which way?”

  Elmes spit into the dirt. “Due East.”

  “Let’s ride.”

  Chapter 19

  The garden hedges were sculptured with tunnels that if one were roaming around, one could get lost. Kat moved down the path, ex
panding her chest as she breathed deep, inhaling the fragrant aroma of each species. She spotted Blue Cornflowers. Reaching out, she caressed the smoothness of a delicate bloom. The petal’s softness brought her contentment. Inhaling its fragrance brought her peace.

  Only moments ago, she’d acted like a little girl with her first crush. Thank goodness her aunt liked to rest after dinner. Kat needed this time alone. Her traitorous body had taken control of her senses. Her innards knotted just being in the same room with him. Hopefully these beautiful flowers would help relax her muscles as well as her troubled mind.

  As if conjuring him up, the tingling on the back of her neck made her aware of Morgan’s presence. The hint of his breath, just below her ear, was enough to send a shiver of feminine pleasure through her veins. My heavens.

  When he spoke, it was more of a whisper. Still, the low timbre of his voice sent quivers of awareness down her spine. A hair’s breadth away, her body longed to lean back against that massive chest, eager to feel his strength.

  Her nerves cried their delight when the tips of his fingers touched the spot between her neck and her shoulder. The gentle contact sent searing heat shooting across her bosom. The instant pounding of her heart robbed her breath. She was afraid to move. Afraid he would remove the hand that settled on her bare skin. A man’s hand. The touch of his hand. The wicked thought entered her mind that she wanted his hand to touch much more.

  Just then he bestowed the lightest of squeezes, Kat thought it could have been a lover’s caress. A pleasant pressure formed in the center of her chest and traveled to her lower stomach and settled right between her legs. She must lean against him, for if she didn’t, her legs would surely give out. Was that his finger on the lobe of her ear? Kat closed her eyes, delighting in the burning sensation. However, closing her eyes only made the spark of awareness flame higher and blaze into a roaring fire that daunted to consume her.

  “Katherine?”

  She jumped—right out of the fantasy she’d created. A starry-eyed dream that was only her imagination. She turned, a smile pasted on her lips, and found him standing a good distance from her.

  Morgan gestured toward the stone bench and smiled. With his hand extended, he turned his palm up in invitation. When she placed her hand in his, he curled his fingers around hers, shooting a bolt of fiery warmth up her arm to land in the center of her chest. The wonder of it all made her legs unsteady, so it was a good thing he held her hand until she plunked—graciously of course—upon the bench.

  Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over the folds of her skirt. “Your garden is beautiful.”

  “My grandfather loved my grandmother and I am told this was his way of showing it. She loved flowers and he gifted her with every bush, every stem, every shape and color imaginable. I understand he traveled far and wide to find the rarest and most exotic flowers. Through their years together, the garden continued to expand. As you can see, it is very extensive.”

  The pride she read in his eyes pleased and excited her. “And the maze? The hedges?”

  “I believe his spontaneity of the hedges were significant to his passion for her. She loved his surprises and impulsive behavior. The maze of flowers and pathways were a game for them. He built the fountain as a center point—a home base, if you will. They would return to the fountain and sit on this bench, sharing their pleasure of the adventure and their love for each other.” He cocked his head and smiled. “At least, that is what I was told.”

  A wave of longing seared her center. “You were told?”

  “By my grandfather.”

  Morgan had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen—or been lost in. She swallowed, hoping her mouth did not hang open. “Don’t you believe him?”

  “Oh, I believe my grandfather. I’m not sure I believe in that kind of love.”

  Her elation plummeted.

  “Although, I do remember how they behaved toward one another. Always kind.” Lines furrowed his brow. “Now that I think on it, they were always smiling.”

  “What of your parents?”

  “Hmmm?”

  She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Did they . . . ummm . . . love each other?”

  “Yes. They did.” His expression turned to regret.

  She sensed his hurt and shared the pain he suffered. “I’m sorry.”

  His voice grew husky with concern. “Don’t be. You remember your parents’ love for each other, don’t you?”

  She looked at him, knowing her soulful emotions must be exposed “Yes.”

  His fingers tightened over hers. Then, he turned his gaze to the pathway. Rising, he strode to the fountain, placing his booted heel on the stones.

  With his back to her, he spoke over his shoulder. “The future of Whetherford Manor has fallen to me. I have many business interests and investments among which I own a large number of horses. Not too long ago, I went to the Continent to take care of some business. New Orleans, to be exact. I also had the intention of purchasing some good horseflesh for breeding and establish stables at Whetherford Manor. I gained Pegasus in an unusual manner, but he is an excellent addition for what I have in mind.”

  Kat remembered the gossip—the tale of a man mistreating a white stallion and how the dark devil had taken the whip away—and then the horse. The rumormongers told of Lord Whetherford’s fierce temper—but the man before her seemed compassionate.

  “Someday, I hope to breed the finest animals around.” He spoke with pride and his voice soothed her to a state of peaceful longing.

  “I told you I returned to Whetherford, hoping to raise a family. Someday, I will marry and share a life with someone.” He watched her with interest—as though her reaction mattered.

  Her heart rose to her throat and she nearly choked. Why did the thought of him married to someone else make her chest tighten and her temples throb?

  “The woman you resemble—the woman I sent my men after—when I returned from the Continent, I found Juliana and her father had sequestered my home. He died and she had gone. Not only did she leave, but she took my mother’s jewel necklace. A gift from my father.”

  Morgan’s eyes took on a faraway look. “I found my mother often holding the necklace to her breast, with a smile on her face just before she lifted it to fasten around her neck. I seldom saw her without it. She even wore it to balls, and what my father called fancy affairs, in London.”

  A light breeze brushed across her cheek, bringing his scent along with it. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. A woozy feeling of dizzy delight spun in her mind. His husky voice reverberated through the air causing tiny prickles to dance across her skin.

  “I kept the necklace locked up like a sacred treasure, honoring my parent’s memory. The fact that Juliana had touched it at all was enough to anger me. When I found out she’d taken it . . .” Morgan’s face grew harsh and his hands fisted.

  Kat stood, and on silent feet went to him. She placed her hand on the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked down and gave her a smile that melted her already soft heart. “Please don’t apologize. The matter is over.” He covered her hand with his own. “I will get the necklace back.”

  She tried to look away, but his gaze held hers immobile. She’d been told she had expressive eyes and they usually showed whatever her current train of thought might be. At this moment she feared he would see the longing and know the depth of her yearning heart.

  Morgan placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles, gave her hands a quick squeeze and—to her shock—stepped back. “You enjoy being here in the flower garden. I’m glad.”

  She blinked. Surely he did not hold back because he thought she would strike him again? She still couldn’t believe she’d done that. God, how she hated her rash action in London. Horrified she’d stuck him when she should have aimed he
r confusion and annoyance at herself. Her foolish, impulsive behavior had infuriated him. A man of his stature would certainly not be very forgiving. “Yes, it’s very beautiful.”

  “Of course, not as beautiful as you.”

  So, he had forgiven her? He stepped closer, swamping her with his male physique. His penetrating stare started her heart to pounding. A rush of air escaped between her teeth. His face sharpened with hunger.

  Kiss me. Kiss me, Morgan.

  He stood there—his expression one of pain—for so long she thought she would expire. The vein on his temple stood out. He resisted. He fought something. What was it? She silently willed him again.

  Kiss me.

  A sigh escaped Kat’s lips drawing his attention to her plush mouth. The mouth he’d tasted in London. Lush lips slightly parted as if waiting . . . The ache in his gut amplified. Hungry for a taste, his tongue hissed behind his teeth, just as he remembered a slap against his cheek—the crack still resounding in his ears.

  Morgan pushed away the memory.

  Her beauty drew him. Soft lashes fluttered over her eyes, but not before he saw hunger in their depths. His loins reacted. He had to kiss her.

  Did he dare?

  His gaze traveled down the slender column of her alluring neck and moved farther, lingering on naked flesh spilling from the embracing bodice. His fingers itched to touch the white silken skin and follow the trail his eyes had just taken. So tempting. So lovely. A violent surge of need thumped his lower region.

  He stepped closer. Sun-kissed tresses caressed her bosom. He lifted one strand and rubbed it between his fingers. Raising the silky curl to his lips, he inhaled her scent, then gently returned the fiery strand where it rested over her breast causing her sudden intake of breath. She could deny until hell froze, but she was not immune to his touch. Her face flushed, her breathing rapid—making her delightful bosom rise and fall—she was exquisite. His hands ached to feel her softness.