Devil's Lady

by Patricia Rice

  Morgan released Faith and caught Miles by the shoulder, shoving him toward the door with all the force his chained wrists would allow. “It’s too late to think of these things now, you bastard. Go play your slimy games elsewhere. You’ve got what you wanted, now leave me to mine.”

  Miles straightened and pounded on the door, but Toby dug in his heels and glared. “This ain’t no place for a lady, Jack. You can have her once you get out. Let me take her home now.”

  Ruthlessly Morgan pointed toward the door. “Out, O’Reilly. You can stand outside the door and listen for her cries if you wish, or you can come back later, whatever you prefer, but she’s mine now, and there are matters between her and me that need no interference from outside. Leave before I have to throw you out.”

  Faith couldn’t answer the question in Toby’s eyes as the door opened and Miles grabbed his arm to drag him away. The clergyman ambled out, and the guard stared at her in lascivious fascination. Toby caught the guard’s coat and jerked him into the corridor. With a considering look, Miles turned one more time to face his furious client, then he too left them alone.

  The door clanged shut, and Faith turned to face her furious husband. Morgan’s sharply angular features revealed no trace of his anger, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes or in the twist of his lips. She was not to see the laughing gentleman on this, their wedding day, but she very much suspected she was seeing the ruthless highwayman. Her heart quivered, but she held her ground.

  Faith knew the instant her fate was decided. The shadows of the past filled Morgan’s eyes, and she could almost imagine all those lost generations of de Lacys crowding his soul as he reached for her. There would be no going back now. She would be his wife in all senses of the word.

  “Mrs. O’Neill,” Morgan murmured mockingly as he pulled her forward, brushing his lips against her hair. “Isn’t that grand, now? Come here, Mrs. O’Neill, and comfort your husband.”

  The coldness of their surroundings had seeped into her bones, but Morgan’s touch had the heat of a fire. It was too late to flee now. Uncertainly Faith stepped into his arms, seeking the shelter of his warmth, fearing the ice in his eyes. His arms closed around her, drawing her closer, but the hold was as much a prison as an embrace. She leaned her head against his shoulder and felt his kisses fall upon her hair, but they weren’t the same. She stiffened as his chains fell against her back, but his arms didn’t loose their hold.

  When she struggled against him, Morgan held her tighter. “Oh, no, Mrs. O’Neill.” He lifted her from the floor until Faith could only grab his neck and hold on. “This is what you requested, and I’ll not deny you. Should I hang at Tyburn next execution day, I’ll have some hope that another de Lacy will take my place. I’ll have you bear my son, Mrs. O’Neill. Is that too much for a husband to ask his wife?”

  There was something terrible in his voice that made Faith quake, but at the same time, Morgan’s words unlodged the hunger inside her. Her eyes held his, even as she felt him lift her to the hard bench that would serve as their marriage bed. His child. Morgan’s child. The cold began to dissipate, and shyly she pressed a kiss to his hard cheek.

  She felt the muscle beneath Morgan’s skin tighten and his fingers dig into her side. Then he was laying her down against the bench and kneeling over her, his face a frozen mask as he stared down at her, his chains forming a barrier on either side of her head.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t let me ruin your life as I have all the others. Run from me just as fast as you can, Mrs. O’Neill.”

  He frightened her, just as he meant to do, but Faith refused to let him see it. As the cold, hard wood pressed against her back, she reached to caress his stern jaw, and a smile flickered across her lips. “When I’m good and ready, Mr. O’Neill,” she murmured as mockingly as he had earlier. “Give me your son, then, and I’ll think about it.”

  “You are strong now, my treasure. You will need to be for any child we might create.”

  His hand came between them, unfastening the hooks of the bodice he had bought for her. Faith gasped and arched against his hand when at last he touched her. It had been so long.... She cried out softly as Morgan’s fingers caressed her, teasing her breasts to aching peaks, stirring long-neglected needs and desires. His mouth followed his fingers, giving her no time for thought, wasting no time on tenderness. His rapacious hunger aroused her more swiftly than lingering kisses, and though she regretted his haste as he raised her skirts, she met his needs with a speed that startled both of them.

  Thinking only that this might be the last chance he had to have her, that at any minute someone would arrive to deprive him of what he might be denied into eternity, Morgan made haste to claim what he had never expected to be given.

  His entry was swift and searing, and only his mouth stopped Faith’s cry. He filled her, possessed her, carried her along on some mad journey whose destination only he knew. She rose to meet his needs, taking him in and giving him full rein until she thought she would burst from the need of him. His lunges sundered her in two, and she was no more herself but part of him, part of the man gasping and crying and flooding her with new life.

  They lay together then, the moisture on their faces mixing. Morgan’s heavy weight pressed Faith into the bench, his hips narrow and strong where they lay joined, until she moved to ease the pain, and he slid away, not taking her with him. Then there was only the cold emptiness between them again, and Faith scanned his face.

  Morgan’s black brows had formed a line across the bridge of his aquiline nose, and the green of his eyes was muddied beneath their thick lashes. The set of his mouth made her quail, and she wished despairingly for some sight of that familiar dent that accompanied his smile.

  “Don’t come back, Faith.” The words were cold and without hope. “I’ll not have any more sins upon my head than I already bear. If you have any sense at all, you will leave here and never look back. You’ve given me all you can. Don’t burden me with any more debts I cannot repay.”

  Those were not the words she wished to hear, and Faith’s despair deepened with the bleakness of them. She felt empty and used, and she brushed hastily at her skirts to cover her legs. Morgan stopped her. Leaning on one arm, he gently ran his fingers down her thighs, his gaze drinking in what she left exposed. When his hand reached the juncture of her thighs, he raised his gaze to hers.

  “If by some luck a child comes of this, I would have him know his proper name, cailin. Will you teach him of me?”

  Pain twisted her heart, and Faith sat up, pulling her skirts down about her ankles as she turned away from him. She didn’t want to hear these things. He would live. Miles had promised.

  “Teach him yourself, de Lacy. I’ll be waiting for you when you come out.”

  She rose from the narrow bench. Fastening his breeches, Morgan did the same. He didn’t like the coldness in her usually soft voice, but he had asked for it. If the truth be told, he had brought it about on purpose. The road to hell would be a lonely one, but this was one life he would not take with him.

  He didn’t touch her as she fumbled with her laces and rearranged her clothing. She looked tousled and sleepy and altogether too provocative for him to resist long.

  But he had thrown her away when he had gambled on fate and lost. Morgan picked up her lacy scarf and handed it to her. “You owe me nothing now, Faith. You are free to go as you please. Miles will help you. Let me remember you with a smile in your eyes. Look at me, Faith, and give me just one smile.”

  Startled at the farewell in his voice, Faith looked, and instead of a smile, tears flooded her eyes. The tenderness was back as he looked on her, and there was even a hint of a dent by his mouth when he raised his hand to stroke her hair. This was the man she loved, and the tears spilled as she tried to go to him.

  Morgan caught her wrists and didn’t let her come closer. “No, my treasure. Go with God. There is a life for you out there. Live it better than I have.”

  Faith wanted to cr
y out a protest, but tears choked her throat and she couldn’t say a word. She shook her arms free and turned away to hide her tears. Before she could gain control of herself, Morgan was pounding on the door. She tried to turn back to him, wanting his arms around her again, needing his kiss. But he shoved her out, and the door slammed between them before she could do more than throw him one last despairing glance.

  ***

  “I’m afraid, m’lord, we have a problem.” Fielding addressed the large aristocrat deigning to visit his humble office.

  Dressed impeccably in the height of fashion, his cravat neatly folded in a pristine waterfall, his brocade waistcoat adorned with the requisite braid and watch fob, Lord Stepney brushed aside the tails of his heavily embroidered coat as he took a seat. “In what way, Fielding?”

  The barrister rested against the chair back near the blazing fire. “Your highwayman married his tavern wench yesterday.”

  A flicker of annoyance appeared on Stepney’s face, then disappeared. “That is only to be expected, I suppose. My niece has a very religious background. She would wish to arrange for some modicum of respectability, I suppose. When the highwayman swings, as I’m sure you can arrange, she will be a widow.”

  Watson coughed, and the barrister yielded the floor to his runner, who could scarcely disguise his triumph. “I told you as it was no use to look for the tavern wench. She gave her name as Alice Henwood, just like I said. And accordin’ to my snitches, she punched the bloody bastard until he agreed to the vows.”

  Edward momentarily entertained a feeling of defeat as he gazed to the heavily shrouded windows of the judge’s small study. Try as he might, he could not feature the meek Methodist niece that had been described to him as a tavern wench who beat highwaymen. And she would certainly never agree to an illegal marriage by some miscreant in a prison cell, let alone use a name as preposterous as Alice Henwood. He had lost this gamble, but there were more to be had if he played his cards right.

  Stiffening his shoulders, Stepney returned his gaze to the two men waiting on him. “To hell with the damned highwayman, then. Let us trace the claimant to the bank account. On second thought, perhaps we ought to let the highwayman walk and follow him too. He has to be the one who arranged those funds. Perhaps she will show up if we follow him closely enough.”

  Fielding shook his head in disapproval. “He’s a notorious thief, m’lord. And it is a perfectly respectable firm of solicitors who has taken over the matter of the bank account. You must face the fact that your niece has no wish to be identified.”

  “Fie on you, sir!” Stepney rose and crushed his three- cornered hat over his new clubbed wig. “I’ll admit no such thing, nor will I admit failure. I will find her. Come along, Watson, we have some matters to discuss.”

  Watson hurried to follow him out.

  Chapter 25

  The strain was showing on Faith’s face, but she spoke calmly of the food and the lumpiness of her bed and even managed a smile at Toby’s jest about thin walls and thumps in the night. Or perhaps she smiled more at the flush that infused the boy’s cheeks as he realized what he had said. Miles didn’t think it mattered. He was in a fair way of being enchanted himself by this dainty faerie, and because of that, he felt her fears more deeply.

  “We should look about for better rooms,” Miles inserted into a lull in the conversation, if conversation it could be called. Whenever silence fell, someone said something to fill it. None of them wished to speak of what was uppermost in their minds.

  “Are there any closer?” Faith didn’t say closer to what, but they all knew. The towering gray walls loomed in all their minds.

  “No,” Toby announced emphatically. “You’ll not rest any better in the hellhole that surrounds the prison.”

  Miles nodded agreement. “I was thinking in terms of rooms in a respectable house somewhere a little farther from here, where you might walk the street without fear.”

  Aghast, Faith stared at him, forgetting her food. “Will it take that long? Surely it cannot. He will die in there. There is no heat or air or sun. No one could survive for long. You said you would get him out.”

  Miles drank deeply of the ale he never drank until he had become involved with Morgan and his lady. Then, wiping his mouth on his napkin, he tried to pry her loose from her grip on fantasy. “Even should he be released tomorrow, you should be thinking of finding a respectable place to stay. Morgan has told me to begin looking for one.”

  Panic filled Faith’s eyes. “Why? The cottage is fine with me. The horses have been left alone too long. I must see to them. Annette is in foal, you know. Perhaps I should just go back there to wait.”

  Miles glanced to Toby, who gripped the table so hard his knuckles whitened. The young highwayman cleared his throat. “Morgan said I was to sell them. I can’t leave you here alone to go fetch them unless you’re stayin’ somewhere respectable.”

  Faith rose from her chair to pace the sagging wooden floor of the private dining room, twisting her handkerchief between her hands. “Sell them? He can’t sell them. How will he live? Not all of them?” She turned with a flare of hope.

  “The fair starts today,” Toby said. “I can get a good price. Will you go with Mr. Golden and find a decent place to stay?”

  Panic had a firm grip on her now. Faith’s gaze swung from one man to the other, and the cloth in her hands knotted into a ball. “What does he mean to do? Tell me, Miles. What is Morgan going to do?”

  She had never called him Miles before. The attorney shrugged nervously and stood up. “I assume he will find you a decent place to live now that you’re married. Now, sit back down and finish eating. It will do you no good to make yourself ill. I know of some very respectable rooms that won’t cost much. I hate to mention this, but you’re being followed. I think it best if I move you out of here to somewhere you can’t be easily found.”

  That made some kind of crooked sense. Faith sat where indicated but didn’t lift her spoon. “You said my family would forget me and look elsewhere if they thought me someone else.”

  “I said your uncle is very clever and, presumably, very dangerous. He doesn’t give up easily. If I must, I will go to him and ask his intentions, but not knowing, I would rather wait until things are desperate before I reveal any connection between you and me and Morgan.”

  Faith nodded and stared at her plate. “If you think it best, I will go where you say. When will Morgan come up for trial?”

  She no sooner laid to rest one problem than she poured another one on them. The two men sighed and twitched and gave their food a look of despair. It would be well cold before their stomachs saw any of it.

  “I’ve asked to have it postponed for a few days. That will give your family time to grow bored with the proceedings and give me time to settle a few matters. I’ve paid a week’s rent on the cell. We may as well get our money’s worth.”

  “Rent? You must pay rent? To keep him in prison?” Faith stared at him, astonished. No wonder Morgan was feeling so surly. All his ill-gotten gains were spilling rapidly into the pockets of thieves worse than he. Did that mean he had to sell his horses just for his upkeep?

  “There is a charge for admitting a prisoner, a deposit to be paid in advance to be given a decent room—”

  “Decent! They call that decent? My word, what can the others be if that filth is called decent?”

  Miles explained patiently. “Much, much worse. You do not want to hear of such things over your meal. He is clean and dry. That has a high price in Newgate. Decent meals have a high price in Newgate. For more, I could have furniture installed, but we’ll trust he will be free before that is necessary. There will still be fees to have him discharged once the trial is ended. The wardens don’t miss a chance to line their pockets. It is their only way of making money.”

  “They aren’t paid? How can that be? Surely the king or the city or someone must pay them for their services.” Faith picked irritably at her food. None of this made any sense. The city w
as filled with lunatics. She just wanted Morgan back and to be out of here. And never come back.

  “On the contrary, they had to pay to obtain their positions. The king and the city are perennially bankrupt. Selling positions is a nice source of income. In return, they allow the wardens to charge fees for their services. It has a certain warped sense of justice. Why should innocent people be made to pay to support criminals? Let the criminals pay for their own support. But as you can see, the prisoners are at the wardens’ complete mercy, and a man would have to be a fool to let such easy victims get away before he extorted the last shilling from their pockets. It will be more difficult to pry Morgan from the hands of his wardens than from the auspices of the court.”

  Faith shivered at the thought, but she couldn’t believe Morgan would allow those grubby little men to bleed him dry. He would know what to do. She had to be practical and plan for when he got out. She finished chewing the tough piece of gristle they called roast lamb in this place and arranged her next question carefully.

  “What will happen when he goes to court?” She didn’t want to say: how will you prove he’s not guilty? In this lunatic world, it didn’t seem to matter much whether you were guilty. They robbed you blind whether you were or not, then dared you to get away. She was beginning to see that it might be very difficult not to turn to a life of crime once you were in the hands of this strange system of justice. How else would some of the poor wretches pay for their prison expenses?

  “The judge will call for witnesses. If I’m successful, there won’t be any. If I’m not, it becomes a little more tricky. Don’t worry about it for now. It does no good to worry.”

  Faith could see that Miles was worried. He didn’t hide his feelings very well. Rather than harass him, Faith turned questioning eyes to Toby. “What happens to highwaymen when they’re caught, Toby?”