DD-Michaels-END.rtf (25 page)

"Morgan, stop."

She shrugged, dropped her hands to
her sides. "Very well. But I do think it very unfair of you and Chance to let me conclude that you wanted us to go to Becket Hall so that you could ask my father for my hand in marriage. What if I'd told Papa you were going to ask him, and told him that I loved you desperately, so that he should please, please say yes? You don't know my father, Ethan, or my other brothers. If they thought, even for a moment, that you were taking advantage of my girlish heart? Why, I shudder to think of the consequences for you."

"But, Morgan, if you had gone to your father, said those things to him, and
he had questioned me, I would have immediately declared my hope of marrying you, so that you could make me the happiest of men. That is, after all, what I've already planned to do."

Morgan stamped her slippered foot on the ground, to lend emphasis to her next words: "That is
not
the answer. You already know I won't marry you an
d
—"

"Yet," Ethan interrupted, just as she was about to fumble in her exasperation. "You haven't agreed to marry me
yet.
But I
have
high hopes that, over time, you will find me irresistible and your arguments against marriage weak. Oh, wait. You find me irresistible
now."

He frowned
,
sighed. "That must be quite a dilemma for you, Miss Bec
k
et, as you so desperately hold on to your convoluted
,
and quite wrong, thinking. You may worry as to precisely who you are, but I do not. You're Morgan, and that's more than enough for me. Too much for most men, I'll grant you that, but not too much for me. Although I will say my bravery astounds even myself."

Morgan folded her arms beneath her breasts, blowing out a breath in exasperation. "You're impossible. No wonder no one likes you."

Ethan's explosion of laughter sent an unsuspecting bird winging into the sky above his head. "Not used to not being able to get your own way, are you, imp? Not by cajoling, or threatening, or..." he trailed a single fingertip down her bare skin, easing it beneath her gown, into the cleft between her breasts "..
.
teasing."

He hooked his finger against the taut silk, slowly pulling her toward him. "But, then, being the terrible man I am, if you decided to do more than tease, I might tell you what you want to know."

The moment he said the words, even before Morgan's complexion went deathly pale, her features settling into a mask of pain, Ethan knew that he, with an entire world of words to choose from, had said exactly the worst thing possible. "Morgan, I'm so sorry, I—"

"No. Don't apologize," she said, putting her hand on his, holding it where it lay. "Not when you're right. But you can keep your secrets now, Ethan, just as you can keep your proposals. If you want me, take me, and if I want you, I'll do the same. That's the way we began, and that's all we really have. Everything else is a needless complication."

"No, damn it, it's not," Ethan said, still wishing back his painful words. "I've done everything wrong, from the very beginning, from the first moment we met."

"You thought I was someone's mistress that day," Morgan said, nodding her head. "I realized that. But I didn't care."

He lowered his voice. "But you care now?"

Morgan looked toward the ground
,
avoided his gaze. "I never thought I was any more than I was. Fine feathers don't make fine birds." She looked up at him. "But I didn't hate m
ys
elf for who I am, what
I am, until just now. Until you made me feel so...
d
irty. I would have..
.
would have made love with you tonight, just to find out your secret, your mission, or whatever it is. I would have done that, I
planned
to do that. My mother was smarter. At least she never spread her legs except for money."

"You are
not
your mother."

"I'm
her child," Morgan said, forcing a smile onto
her face. "Spencer says I'm
earthy,
whatever that means. They tried
,
they all
did, to
make
me
into
a lady, but nothing has stuck
,
has it? I saw you, and all I knew was that I wanted you, had to have you. That you knew the secret that would make me come alive, help me find what I've been looking for without even knowing I was looking."

Ethan stroked the back of his hand down her cheek, longing to hold her. "I don't know another woman, another person, who would be so honest."

"Then why did everything have to get so complicated?"

"There's nothing complicated about the way we react to each other, Morgan," he told her quietly. "Two healthy animals, remember? Still, it was up to m
e
— older, supposedly wise
r
—
t
o also remember the rules. Convention demands we marr
y
—
t
he earl, the daughter of a fine house. And one thing more, as long as we're wasting the moonlight by standing here confessing to each other."

Morgan looked at him in question, concerned for the pain in his eyes, more concerned for him than she was for herself.

"I knew, Morgan Becket, from the first moment I looked at you, that if any other man touched you I'd have to kill him. I had to be the first, the first to hold
yo
u as you experienced the full blooming of the passion I sensed in you. After that? Damn me, as I damn me, because I didn't think beyond that moment, the moment I'd hear your soft moans as I took you to the brink, and beyond. As you took me with you."

His smile was rueful. "I'm new to this, but how's that for honesty, Morgan?"

It took her some moments to find her own voice. "I never thought beyond that moment either, Ethan. We..
.
we're a fine pair of fools, aren't we?" she whispered, blinking back tears. "And now look at us, tangled in all sorts of webs. What do we do now?"

Ethan felt certain that any more talk of marriage, or of his mission in Ro
m
ney Marsh, would only serve to destroy the small progress they both seemed to have made in their blunt exchange of honesty.

"Why, Miss Becket," he said, holding out his arm to her, "I believe we go back inside before your brother mounts a search part
y
—
a
n armed search part
y
—
a
nd we enjoy the ball."

Morgan's heart skipped a beat. The worst was over, at least for now. "Enjoy each other, enjoy the moment?"

"If that's all we have, yes. Tomorrow's another day, and our thorny problems will wait for the sunrise. But," he said, bending to whisper in her ear once more, "everything's simpler by moonlight. Let's go enjoy the ball."

"I know how to waltz, you know," Morgan told him, willing back the lingering threat of tears as she took
his arm and smiled up at him. "Eleanor tells me the waltz is frowned upon in London, although most of Europe has been dancing the thing for years. Such a shame, don't you think? It's a beautiful dance. I so long to dance the waltz."

He'd talk about any subject she might choose. He'd do anything she wanted, give her his soul if she asked for it. But a waltz? All she asked for was a waltz? "When I was last on the Continent I had occasion to dance the waltz, yes. But you're right. It's not accepted here. Entirely too
fast,
you understand."

'Too fast for whom, my lord?" Morgan asked him, as suddenly all she wanted to do was stand London on its ear and then turn her back on it, never to return. "Certainly not us."

Ethan lost his smile. "Morgan, you're not serious, are you?"

She shrugged, her heart lifting with each step they took in the direction of the ballroom. "Isn't it you who told me you regularly outrage the ton? How long has
i
t been since the last outrage?"

"Oh, a good year, at the least."

"Chance and Julia, poor things, would be morti
f
ied, of course."

"That's true enough."

"But they won't be surprised."

"Also true. I imagine it will cost me a small fortune to bribe Lady Beresford's fiddlers."

"I admit to not knowing you very long, but I don't imagine you as someone who pinches pennies."

Ethan stopped at the bottom of the stone steps to the balcony, rested his hands on her bare shoulders. "
Y
ou want this. You really want this? You want to outrage the ton?"

"Not as much as I would have earlier this evening, but I do love to waltz and I think my gown would look wonderful as you swirled me round and round," she answered truthfully...
a
lways truthfully. "Am I using m
y
..
.
my
charms
to get what I want from you?"

"Honestly?" Ethan answered with a slow grin. "It may have begun that way, but I have made it a practice never to do anything I don't want to do. I suppose I'll have to think about this once I take you back to your brother. But are you certain you still don't want to
charm me,
just a little?
I’
m not adverse to the idea, you know."

She shook her head. "No, I won't do it. I'm reformed, as of right now. Not with you, not with Jacob,
not
with anyone. It was a childish thing to do, and too easy to be considered a real victory, if you must know. Well, until you."

"I'd hate to think I've entirely cured you of the practice, as I rather enjoy it."

"Really? In that case..." Morgan said, then went up on tiptoe, to press a short, hard kiss on his mouth, ending the kiss with a quick flick of her tongue against his lips. "Feeling charmed now, Ethan?"

'Teased would be more the word," he said, savoring the swift, yet memorable touch of her breasts against his chest. "And, yes, I could grow used to it."

"
Then I may have to rethink my new resolution," Morgan told him as they climbed the steps and r
e-
entered the ballroom. "Oh, Lord, would you look at that? There's that poor boy, holding our glasses and looking crestfallen. Shame on us, Ethan."

"I imagine if you offered him a dance, the fool wouldn't feel it necessary to go home and hang himself."

Morgan laughed up at Ethan. "People don't
die
from being flirted with, Ethan. But you're right
,
I'll go dance with him. Bickford, wasn't it?"

Ethan watched as Morgan skirted the perimeter of the large room, coming up behind Bickford, who visibly jumped when she spoke to him. Watching the boy's face turn a painful red, Ethan smiled almost indulgently as Bickford looked around frantically, then dumped both glasses into a potted palm before he led Morgan out onto the floor, where they joined in a set already forming for the next dance.

"I thought you years too old for her at the beginning, you know," Chance said from just behind Ethan, who then turned to look at Morgan's brother. "But I've changed my mind. Not that you'll ever control her, for no one will, but at least she won't be able to control you. If she could, she'd be bored with you in a month."

"You make it sound as if you've studied Morgan like some bug under a glass. I don't like that," Ethan answered tightly. "She told me you've all tried to clip her wings. I don't like that, either. If being older means being wise enough to know that would be to destroy everything that's so uniquely wonderful about her? Then yes, I am the man for her. God knows she's the only woman for me."

Chance inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the words, the sting in those words. "We may have bungled things with Morgan," he admitted. "She was always a..
.
difficult child to reach. One of the younger ones, in a very large group."

Ethan was all attention, eager to learn anything he could about Morgan. "Eight of you, is that correct?"

"Four boys, four girls. I believe Morgan was about four years old when we came to England. E
ll
y was frail, and needed extra attention for quite some time. Fanny always had Rian to protect her, and Cassandra, of course, is rather special to Ainsle
y
—
t
o our father. Morgan..." He hesitated, gathering his thoughts, pushing down his own guilt, for he had deserted the family nearly the moment they'd reached England. "Morgan was quite often left to her own devices, I guess you'd say. Not that she tolerated being overlooked. She
ran wild, mostly, but she also found..
.
ways to get the attention she craved. But there's no harm in her, Aylesford. Always remember that."

Ethan looked out over the dance floor, to see that Morgan and Bickford had come together in a movement of the dance. She was smiling at him as if he was the only man in the world, and the boy nearly came to grief, tripping over his own feet. "No," he agreed with a smile. "She means no harm. That's the difference between us. I always did."

He turned to Chance. "She wants to waltz. Here. Tonight."

Chance winced, closing his eyes. "She would. Ainsley warned me about that. What are you going to do about it?"

Ethan answered slowly. "I don't know. I don't doubt her motives, but I do doubt my own, even as I'd like to believe I'm finally through with getting some of my own back for the way society has treated my mother. I'm sure you know the story."

Chance nodded, then considered Ethan's words. "Morgan and the ton don't make for a good fit
,
do they? Once she's back at Becket Hall, I doubt she'll want to return to London very often, if at all. It isn't
real
enough for her."

Now
both
men were looking ather. "I've no great love for polite society myself," Ethan pointed out quietly. "Morgan's horse mad, and I admit to the same failing. She'd be quite content mucking about in my stables, I believe, as am
I. Once or twice a
year would probably be often enough for us to
come to town, frighten the natives."

He turned to Chance, smiling broadly at his own small joke.
"
We really do have more in common than you and your lady wife might believe. We could be happy. I know we'd be happy."

"You don't have to convince me, Aylesford. My wife has already done that. It's Morgan who presents the problem, the way I hear it.
Bu
t I believe you're sincere. God only knows why, but I do. Which leads us back to this idea of a waltz, doesn't it?"

Ethan still didn't know what to answer, and was kept from answering in any case by the interruption of his aunt, who had come up to him and was looking at him as if deciding which of his cheeks to slap. "Aunt? I didn't see you here. Hiding Fenton under your skirts, or is he off losing my money at the card tables?"

"Don't you dare," the matron told him, waving her closed fan inches from his chin. "Do you have any idea how you embarrassed me the other day in the park?"

"I've a fairly good suspicion of that, yes," Ethan answered, smiling at Chance, who looked to be enjoying himself. Good man, Chance Becket. Too serious at times, but a good man.

"Don't be smart," Mrs. Tirrel ordered, tapping the fan sticks against Ethan's chest. "I hate when you're being smart."

"Accustomed as you are to your son's stunning lack of intelligence, I'm sure you do. Yes, I can see your problem. I'm only surprised you do, madam."

Chance actually flinched before shaking his head and covering his laugh with a cough.

"I'm ashamed to be your relative," Mrs. Tirrel said, seemingly having run out of anything else to say, and falling back on her favorite insult.

"How wonderful, Aunt. With any luck, you'll disown me. But, since that can't be accomplished this evening, it would please me very much if you'd just
go away.
”

"I have every intention of leaving you standing here, and cutting you in future, Ethan Tanner. But I am here for a reason, and that reason is to tell you that your... that
the female
you are foisting on us is totally unacceptable. You are the earl, you have responsibilities, not that your father ever understood that. But that girl? Flaunting herself in that gown. And that hair! She looks like a washerwoman, just tying up all that vulgar dark hai
r
—
n
ot a wave, not a curl. And no funds for jewels, obviously. Your mistresses wear better. Why, she looks positively
foreign.
"

"Exotic," Ethan corrected, speaking through clenched teeth. "The word you were searching for is
exotic.
And, yes, she is. Marvelously, wonderfully exotic. Oh, and we hope for at least a half-dozen children. You'll break the news to Fenton, won't you, that the earldom will soon be completely out of his reach? And have him listen closely as he heads for his next gaming hall, so he'll hear the distinct warning
snap
of the closing of my purse."