DD-Michaels-END.rtf (5 page)

"You,
my lord, have no right to say or do anything where I am concerned."

"Oh, how wrong you are, Miss Becket. It would be my good friend Chance tearing a strip off my hide, if I were to wave you merrily on your way as you go riding off to be murdered—or worse."

Well, that stopped her. At last.

"You know Chance?"

The lies unrolled like silk from Ethan's tongue, even as he marveled that she had gone slightly pale at the mention of her brother's name, and not the broad hint of murder, or worse. "Yes, of course. I didn't make
the connection at first. Becket. Chance Becket. Resides in
Upper Brook Street
, only a
few steps from
the Park. Good man."

"Oh." Morgan considered this as she accepted his assistance when she put her foot on the mounting block. "All right. You know my brother, so I suppose I should be gracious if I don't want to have him bring his wrath down on me, which would be stultifyingly boring, to tell you the truth. Now, what about this Tanner's Roost? It sounds like a thieves' den."

Ethan smiled as he watched Morgan mount the mare. "An interesting observation, Miss Becket, and so eminently
gracious.
I must remember that, next time my mother tells me how much she admires the name."

CHAPTER FOUR

They hadn't gone a half mile before the thrill of being on Berengaria's back, even on a sidesaddle, had faded enough for Morgan to wonder what on earth was wrong with her.

What had caused her to so easily agree to ride off willy-nilly with this man she did not know, to go to a place she did
not know, to d
o
—
w
ell, nothing was going to happen. The man was an earl, for pity's sake.

Or at least he had said so, then had convinced Jacob to trust him. Which wasn't much of an endorsement, for Jacob trusted her, too.

At least they were still on the main road, or what she believed to be the main road.

When she got straight down to it, she didn't know much of anything. Except that Chance was probably going to ring a peal over her head that her papa would hear all the way back in Ro
m
ney Marsh.

No longer able to enjoy her view of the countryside or the fresh, sweet smell of the country air, Morgan slid her gaze toward the ear
l
—
i
f he really was an earl.

He sat Alejandro as if born to the saddle, controlling the stallion simply by being in that saddle, moving effortlessly, as if the two had become one, man and horse looking so stunningly complete together.

Morgan felt heat running into her cheeks as another thought struck her. Alejandro and Berengaria also looked good together, the bright and the dark.

But not as good as she and Ethan Tanner would fit together. Her dark to his light. He, so very English. She, so very Spanish, at least the parts of her she'd taken from
her mother. Her true father could have been English, for her skin was lighter than Spencer's, at least. But her sire could also have been Austrian, or Russian, or any one of the mongrels that had relieved himself of his seed inside her two-penny-a-poke mother.

No. She wouldn't think of that She was Morgan Becket, of Becket Hall. Ainsley Becket was her father. She was who she believed herself to be, and now that she was grown she would become what she wanted to become. A person in her own right, free of the past.

And what did any of this matter now? She had to keep her concentration on the moment, and this moment seemed terribly important.

"How do I know you're really the earl of wherever you said you're the earl of?" she heard herself ask, her lips moving before her brain could even hope to catch up, let alone shove a gag in her mouth.

Ethan, who had been amusing himself imagining Morgan Becket's reaction to meeting his mothe
r
—
h
e could learn a lot about her when he saw that reactio
n
— found her question highly amusing.

"You doubt me, Miss Becket?" he asked as he looked over at her, one eyebrow raised speculatively. "Are you saying that I don't have the presence, that ineffable air, of a peer of the realm? And that's Aylesford, by the by. Aylesford's not much in the great scheme of things, I'll grant you, but we're rather proud of it nonetheless."

"I'm sure you are," Morgan said, knowing he meant his words as a bit of a setdown, even a reprimand, and then ignoring that fact as unimportant to the moment.
“
So,
my lord,
you were simply out riding?"

"And then stopping for a cold mug and a slice of ham, yes. Which reminds me, I'm hungry. I believe you've made me miss a meal, Miss Becket."

"How terrible for you. I seem to have been nothing but trouble to you, my lord. Perhaps we should simply part ways now?"

Ethan smiled, finally understanding her problem. "You're afraid of me, Miss Becket? How wrong of you. And, although it's unconscionably rude to point this out, how very
tardy
of you. You should have run screaming from me some time ago. It's miles too late now to think about your possibly precarious position."

Morgan laughed, in
real delight. "Whose precarious position, my lord? I am quite safe. It's you who should be concerned. Out here, alone with my protectors."

Ethan laughed along with her, happy to see that she was far from
m
issish and wasn't going to suddenly go all hysterical on him. "You mean that unwashed cub up behind us on your coach?"

"No, not Jacob. You have him thoroughly cowed, and you're even proud of your achievement, which you shouldn't be, because Jacob could be cowed by an angry ladybug. I meant one of my papa's most trusted men for more years than I'm alive. Saul."

Ethan frowned, trying to remember who Saul might be, and then smiled as he recalled a gray-haired hulk of a man who had climbed up into the box with some difficulty, as he carried the weight of too many large dinners with him. "Your coachman? You consider
him
your protector?"

"Indeed, yes," Morgan said, barely able to
keep from bouncing in the saddle, because she was about to take that smug, satisfied smile off his lordship's handsome face. My, how she loved to win! She really ought to consider scraping up some maidenly modesty from somewhere, now that she was to be a debutante. But how boring that would be....

She turned on the saddle, calling back to the coach, which was no more than twenty yards behind them, as Jacob knew to keep close. "Saul! His lordship would very much like to see Bessie."

"Bessie?" Ethan also turned in his saddle, looking back over his shoulder, toward the coachman. "What's a—
m
y God."

Saul, still with the reins wrapped around his beefy hands, had reached down into the depths of the box, to come up with Bessi
e
—
a
short, lethal-looking crossbow, loaded and ready to loose an equally short, lethal-looking arrow straight into Ethan's back.

"
Than
k
—
t
hank you, Saul!" he called out, waving to the man. "Bessie's..
.
quite beautiful. Truly impressive."

Saul,
h
is expression still fierce, lowered the weapon. Ethan couldn't hold back the relieved sigh that escaped his lips as he looked at Morgan, although he was fairly certain he'd have an itch directly between his shoulder blades until they'd arrived at Tanner's Roost.

"Do you have any idea how
far
one of those arrows can travel?" she asked him, her glee so clear Ethan wondered briefly if Adam hadn't possibly had second and third thoughts before he took that apple. "I've seen Saul put one neatly through
a
—"

"Yes, I'm
sure
you have," Ethan said quickly, then attempted to turn the conversation to something she'd said earlier, something that interested him very much. "Where did you say Becket Hall is located, Miss Be
c
ket?"

"Ro
m
ney Marsh, directly on the Channel. Only a few dozen miles from
Maidstone
as the gull flies, as they say. Or an entire world away from here or anywhere else, as others say."

"I've been to Camber, if we can really consider that a part of the marsh," Ethan said, struggling with himself to not take another peek over his shoulder, to see if Saul seemed happy, pleased with his place in the world, and not liable to want to shoot anything at the moment. "That was a few years ago, for an uncle's interment. I don't know which was more depressing, the young widow trying to corner me in the morning room, or the cold, gray weather. And it was July, I believe."

"I've never been to Camber," Morgan said, ignoring the rest of what the earl had said, considering it wiser to ignore most anything he uttered, as a matter of fact. She'd much rather look at him than listen to him, because what he said was often nonsense or provocative, or both, but looking at him could become a lifelong obsession.

"Ah, but now you'll be able to say you've been to Tanner's Roost, just as one day, perhaps, I will be able to say I've visited Romney Marsh and even Becket Hall," Ethan said, indicating that she should turn her mount to the right, head between two huge stone pillars and
onto a smaller roadway that was, all in all, in much better condition than the main highway.

He didn't realize he had been worried that she'd balk at the last minute until he felt his shoulders relax when she turned her mount onto the drive.

Saul followed, but even Saul and
his crossbow didn't serve to contain all of the butterflies now fluttering inside Morgan's belly as they proceeded along the twisting lane cut through the trees, the branches overhead so dense they nearly blocked out the sunlight.

Romney Marsh was open. A person could see for miles and miles; a person could
breathe
there. Most importantly, strangers approaching Becket Hall from either land or sea would be notice
d
—
a
nd prepared fo
r
—
a
good quarter hour before they arrived.

"Are you certain your house is in here somewhere?" she asked, trying to sound faintly amused, when all she could think was that a person could ride into these woods, never to be seen again. Not only that, but Tanner's Roost would be almost impossible to defend. Didn't that bother the earl? Or perhaps only those who knew they needed protection ever considered such subjects.

"As this is my property we're riding through now, I'm fairly certain the Roost is still here, as it was here at breakfast time, which seems so long ago now, Miss Becket, thanks to you," Ethan answered lazily, knowing he could barely wait to see her reaction to his family home.

Morgan blinked. "What sort of a man blames a
f
emale for his empty belly? Oh, never mind, you all do, don't you, just as if feeding you is our purpose in life. And you're saying that this is all yours?"

"
'Again, with gratitude to my
m
other, for marrying
s
o well. You'll be meeting her, you know, when we get to the Roost, which you should be able to see just as we get past this final curve in the drive."

"Uninvited guests aren't welcome at Becket Hall," Morgan said, beginning to worry about his lordship's mother, and the reception she'd get when she was introduced to the lady she'd call.
..
what
did one call the mother of an earl? She knew the answer, had
been well drilled by Eleanor in all the titles, but her mind had gone suddenly, frighteningly blank.

If her sister were here now, she'd probably not even say, "I
did
warn you." Because E
ll
y was a good person, with a good heart. Morgan knew she should strive to be more like her. She also knew she'd have the same luck with that as she would in an attempt to fly up to the moon.

"My mother feels quite the opposite when it comes to visitors." Ethan ran his gaze over Morgan's gracefully erect upper body. Would he be doomed to hell for wishing his mother away from Tanner's Roost, so he could be alone with this intriguing woman? Probably.
“
She's always happy to welcome guests, and there are usually several of them wandering about the hallways."

Morgan shook off her worrisome thoughts and concentrated on the earl once more, feeling that paying him any less than her full attention could end with her deep in trouble. "And now there's one more, although I won't be staying above an hour, unless you are an inordinately slow dresser, as I've heard that society gentlemen can spend several hours just in tying their neck cloths."

"Gentlemen don't arrange their own neck cloths, Miss Becket, any more than they would take the pressing iron to them. We pride ourselves in being exceedingly and unremittingly useless. I know I do."

And then, as Morgan struggled for an answer to such a damning admission delivered so joyfully, they were out from under the nearly quarter-mile canopy of trees and into the sunlight once more. An enormous expanse of lawn appeared, with a castle sitting on a gentle rise of earth smack-dab in the center of it.

Morgan was instantly diverted by the sight. "A castle. It's an actual castle! All those turrets, and all with flags flying from them. How...
h
ow
extraordin
a
r
y
!”

Ethan grinned, even as he had planned to remain expressionless, no matter what her reaction. "I ordered the moat filled in with dirt soon after I came into the title, which has cut down some on the damp but, yes, Miss Becket
,
a
real
castle. I take it you're impressed? I'd been wondering about your reaction. Now, if you'll please walk your mount in while I rush off to alert my mother? She enjoys guests, but hates being caught unawares. I'll alert one of the staff, and he'll arrange care of the horses and escort you to the drawing room."

Before Morgan could answer, Ethan was gone, and she was dealing with Berengaria, who wanted to follow. Morgan pulled on the reins as her black mare danced in a full circle,
then
watched as Ethan and the magnif
i
cent Alejandro abandoned the drive, to ride across the freshly scythed acres of lawn toward the castle.