Pleasures of a Tempted Lady Page 2

  Keeping himself just over her, he held her precious face cupped in his hands. He couldn’t bear to let her go. He couldn’t bear to pull farther away from her. Instead, he touched her nose with his and reveled in the soft feel of her breath as it whispered over his forehead.

  She was alive. Meg was alive.

  “Captain?”

  It was Briggs’s voice. Will closed his eyes and waited until she exhaled once more, and then he dragged his face up to look at his first mate. Briggs still held on to the shoulders of the dark-haired little boy, though he’d stopped struggling and was staring at Will with wide blue eyes.

  Was the child hers?

  The thought nearly toppled him. He lowered a hand onto the deck to steady himself and said through his teeth, “Yes, Mr. Briggs?”

  “Perhaps we should take the lady below?”

  Will hesitated. Of course they should take her below, but where to put her? This wasn’t a large ship—there was no sick bay or surgery, and none of the men possessed much in the way of medical expertise. There was only one reasonable place.

  Rising to his feet, he let out a sigh that misted into the cold morning air. “Yes. Take her to my quarters.”

  Before anyone else could move, Jasper had gathered her in his arms and risen to his feet. MacInerny led the way to the stern, where he held open the door to Will’s quarters.

  Jasper hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder with his heavy brows raised in question.

  “Lay her on the bed, if you will, Mr. Jasper.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” With infinite gentleness, he settled her on the bed. Jasper was a rough mountain of a man, born in the slums of London and raised by the Navy. Will wouldn’t have expected tenderness from him in any circumstance. But here he was, behaving like the gentle giant with this lady.

  With Meg.

  Jasper stepped back and gazed at her as Will stepped to his side, and the rest of the men formed a semicircle around Will’s bunk, all looking at Meg, all awaiting his next command.

  Will glanced over at Briggs, who now held the boy’s hand in a firm grasp. “All of you, back to your duties.” As the men turned to go with muttered aye, sirs, Will added, “Briggs, you and the boy stay.”

  When the room was cleared, Will knelt in front of the boy. “What happened, lad?”

  The boy didn’t say a word, but his wide eyes fixed on Will as if he were entranced.

  “Was your ship lost in the storm?”

  No response.

  Will gestured to Meg. His next words were taut. “Is that lady your mama?”

  Again, there was no response, but the boy’s gaze flickered over to Meg.

  With a sigh, Will rose. “What do you think, Briggs?”

  “No idea, sir.” Briggs hesitated, his gaze sharpening. “Are you somehow acquainted with this lady, Captain?”

  After a long, uncomfortable hesitation, Will nodded slowly. “I knew her. Long ago. You’re probably going to think me mad, but…”

  Briggs raised an expectant eyebrow, and Will found himself unable to voice the truth. It would make him sound crazy if he said the lady had been lost at sea eight years ago. He glanced significantly down at the boy. “Later.”

  Briggs nodded, but his speculative blue gaze didn’t falter.

  Meg let out a soft puff of breath, jerking Will’s attention to her. He hurried over to her. “Meg?”

  She’d grown still again.

  Briggs came to stand beside him, the boy at her side. “What’s her name?”

  “Margaret Donovan,” Will responded instantly. Was it still her name? Had she married? He glanced downward, but the child stared at the unconscious woman without a change of expression, giving him no clues.

  Suddenly, the lad tugged out of Briggs’s grip and scrambled up the side of the bed, smearing his dirt and grime over the silk counterpane. Briggs reached out, intending to stop him, but Will held up his hand. “Let him go.”

  The boy tucked himself against Meg’s body, slung his arm around her, and closed his eyes. Without waking, Meg wrapped her arm around the boy’s thin shoulders and drew him close.

  Will watched them for a moment longer. “Perhaps it’s simply that both of them are exhausted from their ordeal.”

  “It seems that way,” Briggs agreed.

  Will’s curiosity gnawed at him like a hundred mosquito bites begging to be scratched, but for now, Meg and the child needed to rest.

  He could wait a few hours. Hell, he’d waited for Meg for six years before he’d learned that she’d been lost at sea. A few hours longer couldn’t hurt.

  He released a shaky breath. “I want them watched at all times. I don’t want to see any more escape attempts from the little one. Or from the lady,” he added as an afterthought. It seemed a reasonable assumption that she might try to escape. If she’d kept herself hidden from him for eight years, why on earth would she want to be found now?

  Chapter Two

  Meg hurt all over, but it felt like she was drifting on a cloud.

  Where was she?

  Her body didn’t want to respond to her commands for it to open her eyes, but she managed to peel them open a crack.

  Nausea overcame her so fast and so hard, her eyelids slammed shut again.

  Slower. More slowly this time.

  She was wide awake now. Jake’s slumbering body was heavy and warm beside her—a familiar, comfortable presence. The ship rocked beneath them—and the everyday creaks and groans of the rigging sounded overhead.

  She drifted off again but then came wide awake with a painful jolt.

  No!

  This wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be on the Defiant. She and Jake had escaped. They’d been sailing for Ireland… and then it had begun to storm…

  She couldn’t remember what had happened during the storm. Obviously, something had gone terribly wrong. Caversham had found them.

  Oh, God.

  She kept her body very still, combating the choking sobs that welled in her throat. After all this time… she’d planned it so perfectly. She’d spent years planning it, for heaven’s sake. It had been her and Jake’s only hope of escape.

  And now Caversham would punish them both. He’d make sure it never happened again.

  She gathered Jake closer against her body, bending her head to bury her lips in the little boy’s hair. The strands weren’t as baby soft as they usually were—they were stiff with salt and reeked of the sea.

  “Meg?”

  She froze, not breathing. She didn’t recognize that voice… and yet she did.

  Her heartbeat pounding in her chest, she tried cracking her eyes open again. The cabin was bright and blurry, and she couldn’t make out any shapes. Pain sliced through her skull, and she choked back nausea. She squinted, trying to discern the shadows and figures in front of her.

  “Are you in pain?” The voice was soft, full of compassion. She wasn’t used to male voices sounding like that. She was only used to the harsh, guttural noises of the men from Caversham’s ships. And Caversham himself, coldly aristocratic. A shudder prickled her skin at the thought of his voice.

  And then it struck her as she squinted harder and the blobs of color turned into the unfamiliar shapes of a cabin she didn’t know: She wasn’t on the Defiant. He hadn’t found her.

  Someone else had.

  She didn’t know whether to cry from relief or fear. Yet, whoever it was, surely it couldn’t be as bad as Caversham finding them.

  Jake’s dark brown hair blocked her view of the room, and she struggled against the pain to raise her head. Jake grumbled softly and snuggled harder against her. She tightened her arm around him. Above all, she thanked God they were still together. She didn’t know what had happened, but there were all sorts of scenarios in which she might have lost Jake. He was the most important thing. As long as he was with her, she could protect him.

  She blinked hard. That seemed to clear her vision a bit, and she blinked again. She could see buff trousers tucked into shin
y black Wellingtons, and a sea-blue waistcoat with a line of gold buttons—far finer than anything Caversham’s men wore, although Caversham himself was quite the fop. This man, though—he filled out his clothing in a way Caversham never could. Powerful thigh muscles pressed against the wool of the trousers. The waistcoat cinched a narrow waist that widened to strong, broad shoulders. He seemed endlessly tall.

  Finally, she was looking up into the man’s face. The face was familiar, like his voice, but who was he? She frowned. Something about him…

  He stared down at her; his lips parted as if he was about to speak but lost the words before he was able to push them free.

  He blinked, and her gaze riveted to his eyes—dark as chocolate swirled with bits of amber. Beautiful eyes. Eyes that hadn’t changed.

  She must be dreaming. Having visions. The days in the Defiant’s jolly boat and the storm had muddled her mind. She was probably, at this very moment, lying on one of the jolly boat’s benches as they drifted toward Ireland.

  “Meg,” the man whispered.

  And his name—and all the memories associated with it—flooded through her in a powerful rush.

  Commander William Langley.

  She wrapped both her arms around Jake and gathered him close. The boy was her only link to reality. If she lost him, she’d have nothing. He shifted, and she glanced down to see that he was awake and gazing at her.

  She looked back up at the man—no, Commander Langley. He was still standing there, pale and motionless, his dark eyes swirling with emotions she couldn’t begin to name.

  How should she address him? When she’d last seen him, she’d called him Will. But that was years ago. Surely it wouldn’t be appropriate after so long. She swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat.

  “Commander Langley?” Her voice emerged low and cracking.

  He released a hissing breath, and his hand covered hers over Jake’s back, heavy and warm. “Yes. It’s me. William Langley.”

  “How…?” She choked on the word.

  He hesitated, then gave her a tight smile. “We found you. Floating in a jolly boat with a broken mast. You’ve been unconscious since we brought you aboard.”

  “Jake?” She looked down at the boy again. “Are you all right, darling?”

  “Mmm hmm,” he said with a sober nod.

  She struggled to raise herself into a sitting position, but the world swirled around her, her vision blurred, and she groped to hold on to the bed sheet.

  Instantly, firm arms came around her shoulders, holding her steady. “There now. Lie down. I… we found a lump on your head—looks like you were hit quite hard by the mast when it fell.”

  “I think I… I’m going to…” Her body pitched forward. It was too much. Unthinkable that after so long she should be on a ship with—of all the people in the world—William Langley.

  Unthinkable that she was about to vomit all over his fine silk bedspread.

  “I’m sorry,” she groaned, willing it not to happen. But it was. As if he knew he might be the target of the imminent disaster, Jake scrambled away from her.

  “Hold on,” Commander Langley murmured.

  She closed her eyes tight and focused on the rapid thump of his boots over the wooden floorboards.

  Within a few seconds, his hand was on her shoulder again. “Here. Lean forward. I’ve got you.”

  Opening her eyes, she saw the silver gleam of the tin bucket he’d placed in her lap. She leaned forward and released the sparse contents of her stomach as William Langley held the hair back from her face.

  For years she’d fantasized about seeing this man again. Never once had the reunion of her dreams included bile, an overwhelming headache, and dizziness so pervasive she couldn’t think straight.

  When she’d finished, she leaned over the bucket panting, tears seeping from her closed eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “So very sorry.”

  His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  He took the bucket away, and when he returned, he drew a handkerchief across her lips and then pressed a glass into her hands. She opened her eyes and stared into the pink liquid, then up at him, her brows drawn in question.

  “Watered-down wine,” he explained.

  She took a cautious sip. The wine flavored the water but wasn’t overwhelming, and the concoction flowed smoothly down, ridding her mouth of the awful taste.

  She offered a game smile to Jake, who had scuttled to the foot of the bed and was still gazing at her, terrified. She reached her hand out to him. “There’s no need to be afraid, darling. We’re safe now.”

  She glanced at William Langley and sent up a silent prayer that she was telling the truth. Eight years was a long time, but she had no doubt that the Will she’d known would have tried to protect her from a man like Jacob Caversham. She could only hope that time hadn’t altered his character too much.

  When Jake took her hand, she murmured, “I’d like to introduce you to this gentleman. His name is Commander Langley, and he’s an old friend”—an old lover—“of mine. Commander Langley, this is Jake, my…” Her voice trailed off.

  Once they’d escaped from the Defiant and were safely in Ireland, Meg had planned to pass Jake off as her son. William Langley was the first soul she’d seen since they’d slipped away several nights ago.

  For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was Jake’s mother. She closed her eyes in a long blink, and when she opened them, she was thankful that the commander had chosen to ignore her unfinished sentence. Gravely, he held out his hand to Jake.

  “Pleasure to meet you, lad.”

  “Hold out your hand,” Meg murmured. “Like I taught you. Remember?”

  Tentatively, Jake reached out. Commander Langley took the little hand into his grip and shook it firmly. “Good. Now that we’re friends, I trust you won’t try to leap overboard again?”

  “Oh.” Meg gathered the boy against her chest. Jake didn’t speak much, he was easily frightened, and no one would dream of thinking him a “typical” boy. But Meg was convinced that while he would always be rather unusual, with proper love and care he might grow into a well-adjusted and capable man. It was what she wanted so badly to give him in Ireland. She looked up at Commander Langley. “I’m sorry. He’s very easily frightened and was probably terrified when you brought us aboard.”

  He gave Jake an easy smile. “It’s all right,” he said to Jake. “Of course you were frightened, surrounded by unknown men and with your mama unconscious.”

  He’d placed a soft emphasis on the word “mama.” She knew it was a question, and he paused, awaiting a confirmation or correction. She offered neither, instead looking down to hide the heat flaring in her cheeks.

  Meg knew he would assume it was true now. It was as it should be. Just as she’d intended. Though she’d never intended to encounter this particular man when she’d been planning her escape from Caversham. She had been prepared to face the condemnation of society—society meant little to her now after all she’d been through. But to face the condemnation of William Langley… the thought of it made her stomach clench into a tight iron ball in her abdomen.

  Looking down at Jake, she forced herself to speak. “You needn’t be frightened anymore. I’m certain Commander Langley will help us.”

  When she glanced up at him, unable to hide the pleading in her expression, he gave a polite incline of his head, his expression completely unreadable. “I’ll assist you in whatever way I can, of course. Shall I return you to your husband? Where—?”

  “I am not married,” Meg said quickly.

  He raised a single eyebrow. “I see.”

  She’d intended to inform the world that Jake’s father was dead, but once again the words snagged on the back of her throat, simply unwilling to emerge. She had learned to lie in the past years, and lie well, but lie to this man about such a thing…

  She couldn’t have conceived of lying to him abou
t anything when they’d been lovers so long ago. More than anyone else, even her twin sister, Will had known the real Meg. To lie to him now seemed a betrayal of that.

  But she knew she must. She’d already lied to him by omission, anyhow.

  She took a deep breath and forced her lips to curl into a semblance of a smile. “It’s just Jake and me now,” she said softly.

  “Ah. His father is gone, then?”

  At the mention of his father, Jake had made a small whimper and clung tighter to her. She knew it was from fear of Caversham, but Commander Langley interpreted it as a confirmation.

  “I’m very sorry,” he said in a low voice. He patted Jake’s back, attempting to comfort the boy. “Sorry, lad.”

  Not quite meeting his eyes, she gave a jerk of a nod. “We must get to Cork. My father’s family lives near there, and they will take us in.”

  Will frowned at her. “What of the rest of your family? Your mother and your sisters?”

  Her sisters. She’d dreamed about reuniting with her sisters—especially Serena—almost as often as she’d dreamed about seeing Will again. But if she went to her mother or her sisters, Caversham would surely find her, and they’d all be in grave danger. It was one fact she’d long ago come to terms with—to ensure their safety, she could never see them again.

  Going to Cork to be with her father’s relatives was different. Caversham knew nothing of that obscure branch of her family.

  Blinking hard, she looked at the far wall, at the brass oil lamp bolted to the wall. It wasn’t lit right now—sunlight aplenty streamed in through the row of windows along the back wall of the cabin. The room as a whole was downright luxurious, as ship cabins went. She realized with a jolt that she must be in the captain’s quarters.

  “Perhaps… perhaps I should speak to your captain.”

  For a second, he looked perplexed, as if her question had jolted him from his train of thought. Then a slow smile curved his lips. “I am the captain of the Freedom. I haven’t been a commander for five years now. I own this ship, and I designed her as well.”

  For a long moment, they simply gazed at each other. Satisfaction welled sweetly within her. When she’d known him long ago, his dream had been to someday captain his own ship. It seemed he’d made that dream come true. She’d never doubted he would.