Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) (12 page)

Duncan scented her. Here was a woman, he thought, to stir a man’s blood to unimagined heights. She was so close, he had but to spread his hand and his fingers would brush along her face.

He reached to her.

Beth’s eyes grew wide as she felt his fingers slowly sliding along her cheek.

“Smooth,” he murmured. “So smooth.” His fingers feathered along the gentle slope a moment before they
slipped into her hair. He cupped the back of her neck,
drawing her mouth closer to his.

She could feel his breath on her lips and was aware of her heart hammering. She knew she could flee, she should flee, but all she could think of was that she wanted this, wanted to feel his mouth on hers. Wanted to know what it would be like to taste a man.

For none had ever dared to want to kiss her. None, at
least, had ever tried.

Beth’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Duncan!”

Jacob crowed out his name as he hurried into the room like a puppy who had not yet grown into his feet.
Beth sprang away, praying that the flame within her had
not risen to her face.

But Jacob did not seem to notice, if it had. His eyes were on his leader. “You are well!”

The man’s timing could not have been worse if he
purposely sought to undermine him, Duncan thought in
frustration, as he looked at the distance that had sud
denly sprung up between the girl and him. The opportunity was missed. But there would be others. He swore to
himself by all that was dear to him, there would be others.

“I am sitting,” Duncan corrected good-naturedly, lest Beth take his wellness as an excuse to leave.

Jacob clapped his large hands together. “’Tis wonder
ful.”

Belatedly, Jacob remembered the reason he had entered the room in the first place. He turned toward Beth
and his tongue immediately thickened in his mouth and
became clumsy.

“I’ve come to take your place, mistress. That is, of course, no one could take your place; but I will stand here while you go below. Or perhaps sit.” His meaning
was becoming more tangled, like a skein of yarn being
chased by a cat.

Jacob took a deep breath and tried once more. “Samuel said you wished to eat with the others.”

He had cut cards with his brother for the privilege of coming up and telling her this. He’d left Hank grumbling at the table. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that he’d realized Hank would be the one to be sitting with her, while he took her place with Duncan.

She had need to get away, Beth thought. She had very
nearly kissed the man. Though she thought of herself as not bound by her mother’s prudery, this was too bold a step even for her.

Beth nodded, beginning to leave. “Yes, thank you. I shall only—“

“She’ll eat here,” Duncan ordered, his voice rein
forced with the authority he had become accustomed to
wielding ever since he was sixteen. “With me.”

All the softness she had felt but a moment before vanished like morning dew. Beth turned, her face a
mask of controlled fury. How dared he? How dared he
presume to have authority over her?

“I shall eat where I wish, sir, when I wish, and with whom I wish. I’ll not be ordered about like chattel. Especially not by the likes of you!” Gathering her skirts
up to facilitate her steps, struggling with her anger, Beth turned her back on him and prepared to do just as she’d
pronounced.

His own anger unfurled, but he collected it to him
like a flag that would only invite enemy fire if flown.
Shouting now would not yield the result he sought.
Duncan was a shrewd judge of human nature. And what woman couldn’t be drawn with honey? Even one whose
eyes shot daggers, like those of Diana the huntress.

“Please.”

The single word had her foot hovering over the door-sill as indecision reared its shaggy head. She wanted nothing so much as to leave his presence. But to do so before his man after Duncan had humbled himself for her sake would be unduly cruel and willful. She might be stubborn, she readily admitted, but it was not in her nature to be cruel, or to humiliate a man intentionally— unless he deserved it; and as yet, Duncan did not.

At least, not to this degree, and not before his man.

With a great sigh, Beth released her skirts. As the
hems whispered seductively against the floor, she turned slowly around and faced him, aware that Jacob was still
there, hanging on every word.

“Very well. I shall stay. For but a meal,” she added
purposely, lest Duncan misunderstand.

Duncan only smiled in reply, as if he knew more than
she. He inclined his head in a slight bow. “Thank you, Beth.”

Jacob knew not what to make of the scene, save for the fact that he felt his chieftain’s interest in the woman. That mean he could not dare to approach her. It was just as well, he thought sadly. She was out of reach, in any event. He’d take himself to town and soon, lest his manhood dry up for lack of activity.

But Samuel, he knew, was waiting below, as was Amy. And Hank, he suddenly thought with a smile. Poor Hank, he would be disappointed. “Then you’ll be taking your breakfast here?”

Beth nodded, resigned to her fate for the moment, and not altogether saddened for the excuse. “Apparently.”

“I’ll fetch it!” Jacob declared, eager to win another smile from her. Duncan’s brand upon her notwithstanding.

“I’ll be in your debt,” she murmured without thought.
Her words brought a huge smile to the plain face. “And bring a bowl of soup for Duncan,” she added. As if his feet had wings, Jacob was off.

That was not so hard, Duncan thought, well pleased with himself. He wondered what words it would take to talk her into his bed.

Beth turned away from the doorway and crossed to
Duncan’s bed. To satisfy herself about his condition, she
touched his forehead. It was just the way it had been earlier, which was promising.

She saw him raise his eyes to hers, waiting for her to
speak. “Tis cool still.”

He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. His in
tention was to kiss it. The palm of a woman’s hand was a sensitive place, as sensitive, some said, as their very core. But Beth pulled her hand away.

His eyes followed her, teasing. “But I burn.”

As discreetly as she was able, Beth rubbed her hand
against the folds of her dress, trying to rid her palm of the strange tingling sensation she felt.

“No, that you did last night,” she told him seriously. “I feared your fever would consume you.”

“It did.”

The words hung seductively in the air. Beth could not
believe the gall of the man. If he meant to seduce her, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She was not some common tart ripe for the plucking, to have her head turned with a few words.

“Sir, if you continue this way-—“ Beth took a step toward the door, her meaning clear.

He raised his hand in a solemn promise. “I shall behave.”

“I find that difficult to believe.” But she took no further steps away.

“I will,” Duncan swore, “but only if you offer me a trade.”

She regarded him suspiciously. This was a man who
had earned his money by his wits, and he was still alive.
She would not make the mistake of underestimating him. “Which is?”

His smile could have coaxed birds from trees. And women, she’d wager, from their virtue. “Call me by my given name.”

She raised her brows innocently. “Scoundrel?”

He laughed lustily and paid dearly for it, for every sound vibrated through his body. He pressed his lips together and held his arm to him. “Duncan.”

But Beth shook her head at the suggestion. “It is far too familiar.”

His eyes played upon her face, whispering secrets to her. “Just as are we, now.”

She looked at him sharply. “I warned you, sir, that if you continued—“

He spoke as if she had not begun. “We have saved one another’s lives,” he told her smoothly. “Would that not make us familiar in the eyes of God?”

It was not his true meaning and they both knew that, but she let his words pass. He seemed to be a master at them. She was willing to concede, for the moment and in silence, to be sure, that she had met her match.

“Very well, then, Duncan.” She said his name as if it left a bitter taste upon her tongue.

If he noticed, he gave no sign. ‘”Tis much better. I do not care for formality and airs in my guests.”

Oh no, he wasn’t going to trap her that easily. “I am not a guest, merely a passerby.”

He let that argument die for the moment, curiosity spurring him onward. “And wither are you bound?”

“To France.” And to whatever destiny had in store for
her, she added silently.

She could not leave now; the roads were impassable.
“Not while these floods overtake us,” Duncan responded.

Beth sighed as she looked out the window at the monotonous rain that fell with no end. She could not
continue to let time slip through her fingers in this man
ner. Her father needed her.

“I’ve no choice.”

Chapter Twelve

Duncan studied her in silence for a long moment. What could induce a young woman like Beth to cross
the ocean and find her way to a foreign land during dire
times like this? Was it a lover who goaded her to take such chances with her life? It was dangerous to travel at all times, but especially these.

“Then I shall give you a choice,” he proposed quietly.
“Remain with me.”

Beth turned away from the window, her eyes dark
and dangerous. Did he mean to insult her honor further?
Had he not learned yet what kind of woman she was?
Not some child to be led astray, but a woman who knew
her own mind. And knew what it was that she had to do.

He could read her as easily as any parchment. It was all there in her eyes for him to see. She was not like
Elaine or any other common chit. To win her to his bed would be a challenge. One with many rewards, he’d wa
ger.

He smiled easily. “As my guest,” he reiterated. “Or my nurse, if you will. For as long as you wish.” Duncan glanced down at his shoulder. “I’ve a feeling that I shall be in need of tender care for a while, yet.”

If he meant to play on her sympathies, she saw through him readily. He was more than capable of
mending without her. And the only tender care he really required now was to another portion of his anatomy. A
portion she had no wish to render service to.

“There’s Samuel,” she pointed out carelessly.

He shook his head. “Samuel is not known for his gentleness.”

Beth laced her fingers together and smiled prettily. “Then Amy, perhaps.”

She could easily envision that. And Duncan yelping
in pain as he suffered beneath those wide hands of hers.
Like broadswords, they were.

Duncan shuddered as he cast away the thought. “Her hands would be capable only if I were a sack of flour.” He reached for Beth and managed to capture one hand in his. He laced his fingers through it. “No, ’tis your hands I seek. What do you say, Beth?”

She disengaged herself from him, not quite as firmly as before. “I say that I have a journey to complete, and as soon as the rains leave, so shall I.”

He tried to guess at her purpose. Only one came to mind. “To join your beloved.”

Her father held her heart safely in his hands. She’d never loved another, for no other had ever understood her. Or withstood her, for that matter. She lifted a slender shoulder and let it drop.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Duncan edged forward in his bed, his interest aroused
more than he thought was warranted. “In what manner of speaking?”

She hadn’t meant to share any of this with him, not her name, not her destination. Most assuredly, not her
purpose in being here. She moved around the room rest
lessly. In the gray daylight, she saw the crossed swords that hung above the fireplace. His? she wondered. Or merely some ancestor’s?

“Do you mean to extract all my secrets?”

He could not help smiling at that. “I’ve been gifted with the most blessed of your secrets, Beth.” He saw her blush and knew that she understood well his meaning. “The others are all lesser in comparison.”

She meant to give him as severe a tongue-lashing as he had ever received, but Jacob crossed the threshold
just then, the same shield that Amy had carried the night
before in his hands. Atop it was another bowl of soup.
And what looked to be a goodly portion of ham, eggs,
sausage, and kidney pie for her.

She bit off her retort. It would only serve to amuse him, no doubt. She decided to ignore his ribald remark and give him an answer to his query. There was, after all, no reason to keep it from him. It mattered not one way or the other if he knew.

“I’m bound to Paris to find my father.”

And find him I will
, she swore to herself. He was alive. In her heart, she knew he was as alive as she.

“Paris?” Duncan’s expression became grave as Jacob quickly busied himself with arranging the plates upon the small table in Duncan’s room. Duncan propped himself up in the bed once more. ‘”Tis not safe in Paris. Or in France, for that matter. Madmen roam the streets.”

She felt her heart quicken at the description. “Yes,” she said softly, “I know.”

He watched her face. Jacob withdrew from the room, but Duncan took no notice. “But yet you wish to go there?”

“Yes. I must.” She took a breath. There was no comfort to be found. “I have no choice, as I said. My father is there somewhere.” Her voice lowered. “I know he is.”

He reached to take her hand again, this time as a friend. “Tell me.”

She shrugged, the words tangling hopelessly in her mind. What was she doing, telling all this to a stranger? She was by nature her own confidante, unless it was to her father she spoke. No one else had the patience to listen and to understand.