DD-Michaels-END.rtf (35 page)

Morgan nodded again, sniffing back unexpected tears. "How did
......
how did she die?"

"I only heard the story, but supposedly, only a few months after you came to us on the island
,
she attempted to say no to the wrong person." He put down the letter opener and stood up, placed his arm around Morgan's shoulder. "That was a long time ago, and none of your responsibility. None of your legacy. Do you understand?"

Morgan leaned into him for a moment. "I used to wonder if you were my father. But I knew that was silly of me."

Ainsley kissed the top of her head. "Ah, but if that were true, sweetheart, you'd have so much more to worry about, wouldn't you?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, you're quite reprehensible, aren't you?"

Ainsley was happy to see her smile. "That I am. But, Morgan, I would be honored to have been your real father."

Morgan hugged him. "You are, Papa." Then she pushed away from him and stood up, took a deep breath. "And you're going to say yes to Ethan, aren't you? I'll have him, either way, but I'd really prefer your blessing." She held out her hands. "No, don't answer me. I know
you
trust my judgment."

And then she was gone, off to tell Odette about her dangerous man, so that when Jacko entered through the other door to the study, the one that had been left slightly a
ja
r, she had no idea her conversation had been overheard.

"Your judgment," the man said, settling his still muscular bulk into the couch, just where Morgan had sat. "So, Cap'n, in your judgment, telling her that Perdita was weaving drunkenly in the dirt outside her crib, yelling for somebody to drown her whelp for her, wasn't the truth Morgan needed to hear?"

Ainsley poured
h
imself a glass of wine. "What do you think, Jacko?"

"Me? I don't think. Where's our fancy London dandy?"

"Why, your fancy London dandy is right here," Ethan said
,
entering the study, "and for what it's worth,
yo
u did the right thing if you fed Morgan a bag of comforting moonshine, Mr. Becket. Morgan is Morgan. It doesn't matter who or what gave birth to her, and she's
b
eginning to realize that."

When neither man spoke, Ethan pulled Chance's letter from an inside pocket and laid it on the desk. "My apologies for eavesdropping, gentlemen, but the door wasn't quite closed. And now, Jacko is it? May I say that Morgan's description of you did not do you justice and I'll beg you not to crash my hand as I offer it, and that we three then get down to business."

Jacko looked at Ainsley. "He's got starch, I'll say that for him."

Ainsley only nodded, as he was reading Chance's letter. Once finished, he handed it to Jacko, who grunted as he struggled to pull apair of spectacles from his pocket and place them on his nose.

"Before we deal with your mission, my lor
d
—"

"
Ethan, sir. I would be honored if you'd call
me Ethan."

"Ethan, yes, thank you. Before we deal with that," Ainsley said, gesturing toward the letter Jacko was reading, his mouth moving as he concentrated on each word, "perhaps you'd like to tell us more of Jacob's heroism, as I understand you are the only witness to the event, other than Morgan, who has already told me she was on the ground and didn't really see much of anything."

"Jacob is a hero, sir. He protected Morgan to the best of his ability. Lord only knows what would have happened if he hadn't acted when he did. As it was, I arrived on the scene too late to do anything but watch."

"Starch, and smooth," Jacko said, at last putting down the letter. "Doesn't lie, Cap'n, doesn't tell the whole truth. You have to admire a man who can do that without a blink."

Ainsley looked at Ethan for a long moment, then said, "You're right. The boy is a hero. Morgan...
s
he shot the man, didn't she?"

"Sir, do you really want me to answer that question?"

"No, I suppose not. I'm told the man was most likely French, and after whatever it is you're carrying. I'll have words with both you and Chance at some point concerning putting Morgan in danger, but for now, what can we do to help you? Sunday night is not that far away."

"Saturday, sir," Ethan corrected as he sat down beside Jacko. "I thought it best to allow Morgan to think the
Marianna
is dropping anchor here Sunday night, and Chance agreed. Everything happens some time tomorrow. If past experience is any indicator, the
Marianna
will arrive here at any time between noon and midnight, and be just as quickly gone again. We have enough to occupy our minds without wondering when Morgan will pop up out of nowhere, offering her help."

Ethan felt his breath leave him as Jacko grabbed him by the shoulder, pulled him into a one-armed hug that had the potential to crack ribs. "Starch, smooth
and
smart! By God, Cap'n, put him in a skirt and
I’ll
marry him!"

Three hours later, after the other Becket men had joined them and they'd all taken their dinner on trays brought to the large study, Ethan was
on
his way upstairs, happy with the
plan for the following evening and wondering how
much
of the goodwill he'd established would be forfeited if he sought out Morgan's bedchamber.

When he realized, in the space of two seconds, that he didn't much care what anyone thought, he turned to his left at the head of the staircase and counted down five doors on the left, his valet having already done the necessary reconnoitering for him earlier.

The chamber he entered was large, as was, he supposed, every room
in this enormous house someone had been so eager to sell just as the Beckets were so eager to buy it.

He saw Morgan sitting at her dressing table, her back to him, and walked over to her, bent to push back her hair and press a kiss against her throat. 'Tell me something, my love, and don't attempt to spare my feelings. Do I look gullible?"

Morgan put up a hand to hold him where he was, enjoying their combined reflection in the mirror. "You look handsome. Even dangerous. But gullible? No, I don't think so." She turned on her chair and kissed him on the mouth. "You don't taste gullible, either. Why?"

Ethan pulled her to her feet, appreciating the sight of her in the pale yellow dressing gown. "No special reason. I missed you at dinner."

Morgan shrugged. "I know you and Papa and the boys had things to discuss. I was kept busy enough myself, answering questions from my sisters, most especially Callie. If Chance and Julia intend to sponsor her come-out, please don't suggest that we'd rather do the honors. I thought my ears were going to fall off, she talked to much, asked so many questions. And she's quite disappointed in me that I hadn't visited Astley's Circus to see the horses. So I told her you could make Alejandro fly, and now we're committed to that tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning, by the way, means Callie will be beating on my door by eight o'clock. I hope you don't mind."

Ethan relaxed. Eight o'clock would be just fine. Any later than midafte
n
oon, and he wanted Morgan fully occupied somewhere away from the beach. Ainsley had already guaranteed him that Eleanor could be counted on in that area. "I don't mind at all, and Alejandro will be thrilled. He loves to show off for the ladies."

Morgan slipped her arms up around his neck. "I also hope you weren't teasing me, because I also want to see him fly."

"Then I suppose Ale
ja
ndro will just have to be at his best tomorrow. As for tonight..."

Morgan began backing toward her turned-down bed, still with her fingers laced tight behind Ethan's neck. All she'd ever wanted, all she'd ever needed. When she held him, she held all of that, and more she couldn't even have dreamed existed. "You have tricks of your own? Perhaps you could show me one or two
of them?"

Ethan scooped her up into his arms, laid her on the bed and quickly joined her there. "You know, imp, I
had a life before I met you. I very nearly remember it. But, by God, I could no longer have one without you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Saturday morning dawned wet and dreary, a circumstance that threatened the planned outing on the shore but did not deter Cassandra from begging, cajoling and in the end convincing Morgan and Ethan that "a little damp never melted anyone."

Wearing pattens to keep the damp from their feet, Morgan and Cassandra stood on the beach at noon, once the rain had stopped, their capes wrapped around them as a heavy gray sky warned of more rain at any moment.

"I can't believe you talked the two of us into this ridiculousness, Callie," Morgan said, turning her back to the breeze coming in
from
the Channel. "Oh, look, we're not the only idiots," she said, pointing up to the stone terrace, where it seemed everyone in Becket Hall, from the patriarch to the scullery maid, had lined up to watch the spectacle. Even Jacob, his arm
in a sling, was there, watching. "Did
you
run through the halls, ringing a
bell
and shouting out that everyone was to come see Alejandro fly?"

"Certainly not." Cassandra grinned at her sister. "Although I may have mentioned to a few people that Ethan says his horse can fly. I may even have heard that Spencer wagered Rian five pounds that it isn't so."

"Oh, wonderful, Callie," Morgan said, turning her back on the terrace to look toward the distant stables. "Here they come."

She watched as horse and rider picked their way down
to
the sandy beach before cantering toward them.

Alejandro looked magnificent, his head held proudly, his mane and tail truly marvels. What a cheeky beast! A prince among horseflesh, and well aware of that fact.

But it was Ethan who captured Morgan's attention, and held it. Their night together had been even better than the first, which she had believed impossible.

She had once felt confident that nothing could be as exhilarating, as freeing, as riding her mare, Berengaria; the sound of the mare's hooves hitting the turf, harness jingling, the soft, fast puffs of the animal's breathing. The world around them grown small and yet infinite at the same time.

Now it was Morgan and
her Ethan making their own world, the sounds of that world being soft sighs and whispered words, andeven surprised and delighted exclamations cut off by long, drugging kisses.

If Morgan loved the feel of Berengaria's strength below her as she straddled the mare, last night she'd learned the rapture of straddling Ethan, riding him, feeling his strength, meeting that strength with her own. So aware, so joyous, so cognizant of being alive. Free, unhampered by any earthly chains. If flight were indeed possible, she and Ethan had flown last night....

"Morgan?" Cassandra pulled at her sister's sleeve. "Why are you smiling like that? You look silly."

"Hush, Callie," she said automatically, her attention still centered on Ethan. He wore a dark brown Carrick coat with several shoulder capes, capes that flapped in the wind just as did the coattails that rested lightly on Alejandro's hindquarters. H
e
wore his blond hair severely pulled back and secured at his nape, so that his fine, cleanly planed features were what captured her attention.

Was Odette on the terrace, or peeking from one of her windows? Did she see the colors? The brilliant red, the sun-bright yellow? How did anyone
not
see them? Odette might say that Morgan was surrounded by the same colors, but Morgan couldn't see those, wasn't sure if she could believe in them. What she could believe was what her own eyes told her.

Mostly, she believed in what her heart told her.
This is your man, and he is yours.

"
I will not hush," Cassandra protested. "He
is
gorgeous."

Morgan smiled at her sister as horse and rider stopped not ten feet from them and Ethan dismounted. "Cassandra Becket," she said, "you're entirely too young to say things like that, let alone think them."

Cassandra rolled her eyes in fourteen-year-old disgust. "The
stallion
is gorgeous, Morgan. Honestly, if I grow up to be silly, please have someone lock me in my bedchamber and toss the key in the Channel."

While Morgan bit her lips to keep from laughing, Cassandra went to Alejandro, who had just obeyed Ethan's command of, "Alejandro, bow."

Ethan smiled at Morgan as, one by one, he put the willing animal through his paces, his own gaze firmly on Morgan. He moved beside her and whispered, "I've had an idea. We'll travel to Tanner's Roost until the banns can be read, and return here for the ceremony.
Maman
won't say a word against that plan, or even blink at the manner in which we entertain ourselves until we can stand in front of a vicar. Your village does run to a vicar, doesn't it?"

"It does. Although I probably should point out, my lord, that you have as yet to ask me for my hand in matrimony."

Ethan was genuinely surprised. "I haven't? Good God, I haven't, have I? Yes, well, there's no time like
t
he present. I'll just go down on one knee an
d
—
"