She shook her head...and he bowed his. His lips were there, warm and possessive, covering hers with enough intent and purpose to drain the substance from her bones.
"Y-you have to leave."
He kissed her again, longer this time, and his body crowded hers against the wall. "Who?"
She whimpered softly, shaking so badly she had to rely on his arms to keep her from sliding down the wall and melting in a heap on the floor. All she could see was the intense hunger in his eyes. All she could feel was the heat of his body through the flimsy layer of her nightdress. But it had been so long...so long...and she had convinced herself she didn't care...
"Summer—?"
Her name, growled from his lips brought forth another whimper, another shiver, and her eyes filled with tears.
"You," she whispered. "You are Sarah's father."
He exhaled sharply and bent his head forward, touching his brow to hers. His arms tightened around her and for a full minute he did not move, did nothing but share her breath and taste her fear. When he opened his eyes again he could see the silvery tracings left by the tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Do you love him? Do you love Winfield?"
"Oh please, Morgan, you have to go—"
Wade swore under his breath and kissed her again. It was a deep, crushing kiss that demanded a response in kind. His hands skimmed down her body, exploring her hips, her thighs, her belly and breasts, caressing her flesh through the nightdress until even that grew to be too much of a barrier and he lifted the hem, shoved it to her waist, and slid his fingers between her thighs. The wetness he found there brought a groan to his throat and a cry to Summer's as the first slippery touch caused an instant explosion of pleasure.
"Do...you...love...him?" He punctuated each word with a stroke of his fingers and she shook her head, unable to speak through the spasms. He laughed softly and swept her up into his arms. He carried her the three long strides to the bed, where he tore off the offending nightdress and laid her down in a shimmering pool of her own silky hair. With trembling hands, he shed his own clothing and within moments, was naked alongside her. His body was hard, straining with impatience, and with no thought to finesse, he thrust himself deep inside her, again and again until she was clawing into his shoulders, until her legs were twisting around his waist, until her body was arching up to meet his every stroke. He twined his fingers into her hair and held her through a kiss, smothering her screams as she shuddered beneath him. Her nails scored his flesh as she pulled him into her orgasm, demanding that he share it, demanding he give her everything he had to give.
Harder and deeper his body pushed into hers. He felt the tightness, the rush of heat beginning...his mouth broke from hers and his hands dropped down to her waist, then to her hips, lifting her and holding her as the violent spill of ecstasy pulsed from his body into hers. A groan brought forth another wave, and another, met and equaled by the spasms that wracked her body beneath him. Together they rocked and strained, twisted and writhed until every last drop of pleasure was wrung from their bodies.
Wade pressed his lips to her shoulder and throat. They were both panting, both shaking, twitching softly as the last of the spasms shivered from one body to the other. Summer's eyes were closed, and he kissed them tenderly as he lifted his head and gazed down at her.
"Forgive me, Governess," he murmured softly. "That was not planned. I fully intended to play the part of a proper gentleman tonight, though it might have done irreparable harm to my physical wellbeing to do so."
Her response was a quiet sigh, a soft breath that teased his skin and turned his gentle smile into a gentler frown. "And yet something tells me you were sorely in need of that. Has your husband been that much of a fool?"
She searched the dark eyes for sarcasm, but saw no trace of it. Only concern...and anger. She ran her fingers lightly across his forehead, pushing aside the unruly black waves that had fallen forward. A finger traced down his cheek and along his jaw, coming to rest on his lips.
"Bennett has not touched me since he found out I was with child."
"He knew it was not his?"
"He had his suspicions, his accusations, his jealousy." She sighed again. "And they were all well-founded. I suppose I cannot blame him for the way he reacted. I was bitter and...not totally compliant all of the time."
Wade's arms tightened and he lowered his mouth to hers. "I have already apologized to you twice, Governess. Twice in one night. My character would be ruined were I to do it a third time."
His lips roamed to her neck, then lower, and she shuddered as his lips circled and pulled at one tightened nipple. She felt the quick, stinging response and heard his husky laugh.
"I am glad to see you are a good mother to my child and not a fashionable one."
"Morgan...you have to leave. This was a terrible risk, for both of us, and...and it mustn't ever happen again."
"Never?"
"No. No, I—" she stopped and felt him moving again, slowly, easily, his flesh still inside her, thickening again. "Oh."
"Yes, oh. As you see, I have a great need to make up for lost time."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and her hands slid up from his shoulders. The black curling hairs on his chest brushed lightly over her breasts as his body rocked, teasing them, prompting a mewling cry from her throat.
"Morgan...please."
His strong white teeth flashed in a grin. "Still stubborn are you, Governess? Still determined to argue with me even though you know you must lose?"
"Lose? Oh...you're doing it again."
"I'm flattered you noticed."
"I don't mean that," she said on a gasp. "I mean...you're not playing fair."
There was a slight hesitation before he answered. Long enough for him to feel her velvety sheath tighten around him and pull him deeper.
"You will learn that I never play fair, madam. Not when the stakes are this high."
Summer lost track of time. She lay curled against Wade's body, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped limply across his chest. The scent of his skin, the feel of his body, the sound of his deep, even breathing was carefully locked away into her memory. Each touch, each caress, each moment of blinding, soaring ecstasy would be brought out and relived over and over when he was gone.
She saw the first creeping fingers of dawn light stretching in through the window. The morning breeze was plucking at the lace curtains, the palm outside her balcony was rustling a warning. Quietly, carefully so as not to disturb him, she slipped out of bed and drew on a silk robe to cover her nudity as she stood at the french doors. High on the surrounding hilltops, splashes of yellow light indicated the city was beginning to come to life. The peacocks in the garden were calling to each other. The dairy wagons would be on the roads soon, the fishmongers, the farmers rolling their carts down the streets.
It was time for Morgan to leave.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the buttery contentment flowing through her body. Could any woman feel so utterly, deliciously alive? The months of emptiness had been filled and filled and filled again. She had forgotten how he liked to bury his hands in her hair and watch her face as the pleasure rippled through her. And she had forgotten how he could be rough and careless in his lovemaking one moment, then exquisitely tender the next.
Summer smiled wistfully as she felt big, strong hands circle her waist and draw her against his hard body.
"I thought you were asleep," she whispered.
"Mmmmm." His lips nuzzled the crook of her shoulder. "Is that what feather beds are for?"
"We haven't any more time," she said, the emotion clogging her throat.
He turned her around in his arms and his mouth covered hers. His lips were incredibly warm, incredibly greedy, but she knew she had to be strong now. She had to be...for Sarah's sake.
"Morgan—"
"Come back to bed."
"There are already servants moving about. The gardeners will be out soon to
tidy up after the party. If someone sees you..."
He straightened and his brows curved down. "I warn you, Governess, you will only suffer for your obstinacy later. I've an unforgiving nature when it comes to being ejected from a warm bed."
The glow in her body faded as she watched him draw on his shirt and breeches.
"Morgan...there mustn't be a later. You must not come here again or try to see me again. You do know that, don't you?"
He glanced up from the edge of the bed as he pulled his boots on. "I know nothing of the sort."
"This should never have happened."
"That isn't what your body has been telling me all night."
Summer flushed and looked down at her hands, twisting them in front of her. "Morgan, please, you are not making this any easier."
"It was not my intention to make it easy," he said bluntly. "It was my intention to leave you with no choice but to come with me."
Summer's eyes widened as she stared at him. "Come with you?"
"Aye. To Bounty Key, temporarily anyway, until I can get you and the child safely onto the mainland. I have a home in Virginia that could use a woman's sly touch with frilly curtains and flowered papers."
"Sarah and I cannot go anywhere with you. Not to Bounty Key, not to Virginia, not anywhere! You know we can't."
"You say that as if it is written on holy tablets. Believe me, a bolt of lightning will not strike you down for going against social convention. If that were the case, I would be nothing more than a charred heap by now."
"I am a married woman," she said slowly. "I am also the governor's daughter. It goes beyond mere social convention."
"Why? Does being the governor's daughter make you less able to live your life the way you choose to live it? Or immune to happiness? Does it mean you have to eke out the rest of your days trapped in a loveless marriage to a bastard like Winfield? Does it mean you have to condemn your daughter...our daughter...to the same dry future? Over my dead body, madam. The Chimera is leaving Barbados tonight. I want you and Sarah both to be on board."
He stated it so calmly, so simplistically, that Summer was speechless for the time it took him to finish dressing.
"We are not going anywhere with you," she said at length. "Least of all on board a ship that will probably not even make it out of the harbor—or have you forgotten Farley Glasse so soon?"
"I haven't forgotten," Wade said grimly. "But it will take a better man than Glasse to put irons on me. And the man I would leave you with would have to be a damned sight better than Winfield. He will make an old woman out of you twenty years before your time. Sarah will turn out to be a weak-kneed simpering brat like all the others who stood around last night batting their eyelashes at rich old goats with muttonchops and pot bellies."
"And exactly what are you offering her? An island crawling with half naked misfits and drunkards? Lessons in smuggling and slaving and murder? Will you have Thorny teach her the ways of the world and Mr. Monday demonstrate his prowess to her on the beach? Dear God, spare me your moral judgments of my family and upbringing. Bennett may not be perfect, but our life here is respectable. Sarah will grow up with a name and a certain degree of protection as Bennett Winfield's daughter. What will she have as Morgan Wade's baseborn child?"
"She will be free."
"Free to do what? She will be trapped, Morgan, trapped and branded for the rest of her life. Oh please, don't you see...if it was just me—" her voice faltered and she had to dig her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep the tears from filling her eyes. "She is all I have. She is all I have of you...all I can ever have of you."
"Not if you come with me, it isn't."
"As what, Morgan? Governor Cambridge's disowned daughter? Bennett Winfield's runaway wife? Shall I be known as your mistress or your whore for as long as it takes for you to tire of me?"
The dark blue eyes turned cold and hard. She saw the tic shiver high on his cheek, and she knew she had struck a terrible blow.
"You call me arrogant, madam?" He snatched his jacket off the floor and crossed to the narrow balcony leading off the bedroom. He searched the grounds below for any sign of movement in the shadows before he swung a long leg over the rail.
He paused and glanced back one last time. "The Chimera sails out of Six Man Bay at midnight. You have until then to change your mind."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Summer Winfield balled her hands into fists and tried to quell the instinct to scream. The nerves in her entire body were stretched to the breaking point, and the tension created such a humming in her brain that it all but drowned out the sounds of Michael laughing in the anteroom with Sarah's nanny.
She stared at the empty cradle in disbelief. Her breasts were full of milk and ached, throbbing painfully in reaction to what her eyes refused to accept. She spun on her heel and ran to the nursery door, halting before any cry of alarm could leave her lips.
What could she say? What could she do? The nurse would panic and protect herself by running to either Bennett or Sir Lionel. They, in turn, would ask questions, badger her, accuse her and...and dear God, Bennett would know. He would know by looking at her that Morgan had been here, and then all pretence at civility would be finished.
Michael laughed again and Summer pressed her fists to her temples, needing to think.
She had spent most of the day supervising and directing the small army of servants who had scrubbed and polished and restored the house to order after the party. She had welcomed the hard work, and it had almost succeeded in taking her mind off Morgan Wade. Almost. The look on his face as he had glared back at her from the balcony was seared into her mind, as was the very real sense of loss that burned inside her.
Arrogant? No, she was not being arrogant, she was being practical and rational. How could she, Summer Cambridge Winfield, simply take her child and slam the door on the only way of life she had known for the past twenty years? She had experienced more fear, more uncertainty in that one week on board the Chimera than she had her entire life. Even if she could overcome her fears, she had to think of Sarah. She had to choose what was best and safest for their child. Just because she had destroyed her own chances for happiness, there was nothing on this earth that would make her destroy Sarah's.
Wade was a gunrunner. A privateer who tempted fate every time he ran the blockade lines, every time he chased a foreign ship across the horizon. By his own admission he did not think in terms of permanency.
She squared her shoulders, drew a breath to steady her nerves, then opened the door a crack.
"Michael? Could you come here a moment please? No, it's all right, Lottie, you may retire for the evening, I will see to the baby."
"Yes ma'am." The nanny curtsied and gathered up the few things that needed to be laundered, then left the playroom, closing the door to the hallway behind her.
Michael was grinning as he came through to the nursery. "I suppose Sarah won't go to sleep without a story from her Uncle M?"
"Come in here quickly," Summer whispered urgently, clutching his sleeve and pulling him through the doorway.
"What is it? What's wrong? Have you been crying?" He looked around and saw the empty cradle. "Where is Sarah?"
"Michael, listen to me. This is very important, and there is no one else I can trust but you. Will you help me?"
"Of course I will, but where is Sarah?"
Summer bit down on her lip. "Gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
"Gone. As in...gone."
"You mean kidnapped?"
"For goodness sakes," she hissed, "keep your voice down!"
"But someone ought to know! We ought to get help if she's been stolen away!"
"No. No! She hasn't been stolen. I mean, yes, she has been stolen, but...but I know who did it, and I know where she is."
"Where is she? Who took her?"
"There isn't time to explain."
"Who took her?"
"For pity's sake!" She pinched his arm hard enough to
make him suck in a gasp of air. "If I tell you, will you keep your voice down?"
"Who took Sarah?" he asked in a whisper, rubbing his arm.
"Captain Wade."
Michael blinked. Stared. Then blinked again. "Why would Captain Wade steal Sarah?"
"Oh, Michael—" Summer's shoulders drooped, and the tears trembled on her lashes again. "Because...because it's too long and too complicated to explain."
"Is he Sarah's father?"
"Wh-what?"
"I knew it!" Michael's eyes lit up and his voice rose again with excitement. "I knew she was far too pretty to belong to stuffy Old Winifred. Oh, Summer, this is jolly fine news! Does it mean we're all related now? Does it make Captain Wade my...er...something-or-other?"
She swallowed her amazement. "It makes him underhanded and conniving. He has stolen her, Michael. He has broken into our house and stolen my baby!"
"Well, she's his baby too. And I don't think he had to actually break into the house to take her; there were so many maids and workmen milling about all day. Are you certain it was him?"
Exasperated, Summer uncrumpled the piece of paper she had balled into her fist and showed him the single line of slanted writing.
Six Man Bay. Midnight.
"I have to go and get her back without anyone finding out she was ever missing."
Michael's face fell and he nodded. "I see, yes. Winifred would have fits, wouldn't he. Not to mention a jolly good reason to blast the Chimera out of the water."
"If I hurry, I can reach the bay well before midnight."
"And steal her back? We'll take the ship by storm and take her back!"
"We won't be doing any such thing. You have to stay here."
"What? Why?"
"Someone has to stay here," she insisted, "to make sure no one comes into the nursery until I get back."
"Well damn and blast on that," he said, genuinely crushed.
"You will not be missing any fun, believe me. Now, do you know where father keeps the keys to his gun chest?"
The hazel eyes popped wider than before. "You're going to shoot Captain Wade?"
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