Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) (16 page)

“Please.” It was not so much an entreaty on her part as an order.

Jacob, his ear trained for instruction, did not miss the
intent. He took her down the hall quickly, the sound of his boots preceding him.

“There.” Jacob waved a large hand toward the open
doorway, but took not a step further. He valued his peace and his head, both intact.

Beth looked in. She found Samuel and Sylvia with their heads together, the gray one inclined against the dark one with flecks of white in it. They were whispering to one another over broadswords like two young
children suddenly discovering that their bodies had been
newly reformed for procreation.

She stared in silence for a moment, unobserved and speechless.

When Beth finally stepped into the room, she was aware that Jacob had remained without. Obviously, chivalry did not extend itself to incurring Samuel’s wrath, she thought vaguely.

But she didn’t need Jacob at her side. She needed Sylvia there. Preferably within a coach, its horses galloping towards Portsmouth. They needed to make plans to be gone.

Another sound, almost like a giggle, pierced the air. “Oh, you,” Sylvia tittered, as coquettishly as any girl a third her age.

“Sylvia,” Beth cried, unable to decide whether she was bemused or amused. What she was, however, was plainly confused. This was not the Sylvia she knew.

Sylvia sprang away from Samuel with an agility that surprised Beth. A look of guilt flowering on the woman’s broad face. Her hand flew to the bosom that had
been heaving for another reason only a moment before.
“Beth, you startled me.”

Beth’s gaze never wavered, her expression unreadable. “And you me.”

Sylvia flushed and looked down at the floor, her silence saying far more than any words could.

Could it possibly be? Beth thought. Sylvia? Her Sylvia? And Samuel?

Samuel was quick to step forward, his body shielding Sylvia’s as much as he was able. “Tis all my fault, mistress.”

“And what fault would that be?” Beth asked, feeling her way around the subject slowly. She did not know if
what Jacob said was mere speculation on his part, sheer
gossip, or the uncoated truth.

Samuel glanced over his shoulder to offer Sylvia a
smile. She had been a surprise for him last night, one of those pleasant ones that did not happen often at his ad
vanced state in life . . . one he valued.

He turned toward Beth again. “Why, keeping her from you all this time, of course.” Samuel’s expression was as innocent as that of a babe on its first day. “I’ve just been showing her around the manor.” His smile broadened, spreading freshly shaven cheeks. “There are a great many rooms in Shalott.”

Beth looked at Sylvia. The woman’s shoulders were
hunched, as if huddling from any censure she might gar
ner from Beth, but she was clearly smitten with the old rogue. Beth felt a smile creeping to her lips. Who would ever have thought it?

“Might I have a word with her, Samuel?”

“But of course.”

Sweeping a hand before him and bowing grandly, he
then stepped away. With his back turned to the women,
Samuel pretended to occupy himself with a set of matched pistols that were hung in a case upon the wall, a gift from the King to the fourth Earl of Shalott.

Beth crossed her arms before her. Her expression
softened and Sylvia smiled hesitantly. One would think,
Beth mused, that their positions were reversed, and that she was the chaperone.

“How are you faring?” Beth asked gently.

Sylvia slanted a look toward Samuel and all but sighed her answer. “Wonderfully.”

Amusement lifted Beth’s lips as she arched a brow. She nodded at their surroundings. “Weapons, Sylvia?”

Like a child caught in a lie, Sylvia drew herself up. “A mind should always be open to an education, Beth. I have always told you that.”

Now Sylvia was playing with words. “You have also said that a woman’s education should extend only to gardening, needlepoint, and reading poetry.”

With a stubbornness that had been foreign to her nature until this moment, Sylvia insisted, “Weapons are far more exciting.”

Beth looked at Sylvia knowingly. She lowered her voice to keep Samuel from overhearing. “You mean Samuel, don’t you?”

To Beth’s utter surprise, the woman laughed behind
her hands. There was not even a hint of a blush. Only
pleasure splashed her cheeks. “Yes, there’s that, too.”

“Sylvia, what’s come over you?”

In reply, Sylvia sighed deeply as she laced her fingers together. “Love, I think.”

Beth stared at Sylvia dumbstruck. Finally the word struggled to her lips. “Love?” Her eyes narrowed.

There was not a trace of hesitation as Sylvia replied, “Yes.”

Was she mad? Had she eaten or drunk something here
that had affected her mind?

“In one day.” Beth’s tone, far from amused, was now mocking.

Sylvia turned on her, angry at the show of disbelief.
“Romeo and Juliet knew immediately.”

Beth attempted to lay a gentling hand on the woman’s arm. Clearly the woman was ill. But Sylvia shrugged her off.

“A play, Sylvia. ’Tis but a play.”

Sylvia had spent her whole life shut up with books. “Works of fiction are based on life.”

Beth took a breath. There was no point in arguing with the woman. The madness would pass. It was up to her to take the lead. As always.

“When the rains cease, I have made arrangements for us to be taken to Dover.” Sylvia’s expression, rather than become contrite, only grew more obstinate. “Or would you have me leave you here?”

Sylvia addressed the row of muskets upon the wall behind Beth, unable to look at the expression on Beth’s face any longer.

“Perhaps, until you are ready to return.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. Beth
opened her mouth, then shut it again. It would be hypo
critical to remind Sylvia of her duty, or of the fact that her mother had placed Beth in her care. Not from the first moment had Beth ever thought of Sylvia as anything but a person she had to protect.

With renewed patience, Beth asked gently, “You are that taken with him?”

Sylvia thought of last night, of the comfort she had found in a man’s caring arms. And the passion. That was something she had only dreamed about. Something that she had always thought had passed her by on the steadily narrowing path to old age.

“Yes, oh, yes.”

Mystified, Beth only shook her head. “Then I wish you well, though I truly believe that it’s madness to remain here.”

Perhaps it was only the work of the rain, she mused.
Many acted in a disoriented fashion after being trapped
within a house, waiting out an endless storm.

Yes, she reminded herself, but it had only been a single night.

Apparently, she glanced at Sylvia’s face, a very productive, interesting night.

“Is there anything else?” Sylvia asked, impatient to return to Samuel.

“No.” Beth shook her head. “We’ll speak more later.” The words had hardly left her lips before Sylvia had flown back to Samuel’s side.

She was completely oblivious to Beth’s presence.

Well, whatever Sylvia chose to do or not to do, Beth had her path clearly cut out before her, she thought. She needed to reach Paris as soon as it was possible. With or without Sylvia at her side.

Perhaps it might even be better this way, she decided, as she crossed the threshold, leaving Sylvia to her newfound adventure. Without Sylvia at her side, Beth would not have cause to worry about her. There would only be herself to watch out for. It would be a comfort, leaving Sylvia here, safe and secure.

As she left the room, Beth heard the sound of soft laughter. She turned to look and realized that it was floating from between two rows of armor. She could not see either Sylvia or Samuel, but she could well imagine why Sylvia was laughing.

A shaft of envy touched Beth as she closed the door once more.

Chapter Sixteen

The rains continued for two more days and nights. During that time, the different members of the household took it upon themselves to make certain that Beth was never bored or without diversion.

Evenings were the best, when they all gathered together after the day’s work.

Even when she was away from Duncan, Beth never found herself at a loss for sources of entertainment. The conversations she had with Hank, or Samuel, or any one of the handful of people whose names she had learned, were edifying as well as amusing. Beth had long ago learned the benefits and joys of leaving her mind open to a myriad of influences. The former privateers who lined both sides of the table each night as they partook of dinner were as lively a group as ever she’d hoped to encounter.

Far from the bedraggled band of thieves and cutthroats she would have imagined them to be, Beth dis
covered that they were all eager to earn their way on the
manor. Some farmed, others tended the livestock, still others worked within the house itself.

As she listened to them tell their tales to a willing new set of ears, she learned that, to a man, they had been driven by despair to feed and clothe their own by any means possible, fair or foul. If that meant cutting a purse now and again, or ramming the side of a ship for precious cargo, so be it.

But none of the privateers welcomed the dark title of “thief.”

This new turn in their lives suited all but the most restless of the crew. Those, Duncan had been quick to make clear, were free to leave whenever they desired. If they remained, they earned their way, same as always, but in a different fashion, one that did not run afoul of the Crown.

As for Duncan, this was the bargain he had struck with Sin-Jin, and stand by it he intended to, until such time that the wanderlust moved him again.

As of yet, it had not urgently wished in his ear.

He was content enough to remain here, the whole of his extended family fed and taken care of, with a roof over their heads and their needs met. It was, he told Beth, a good life.

She believed that he truly meant that, and was impressed.

Not only with stories was she entertained, but with slights of hand and bits of “magic” that had her laughing and begging to be shown the trick of it.

Duncan placed his long, tapering fingers to one side of his plate and leaned back, studying her as Hank made a coin appear from behind her ear. Beth seemed, Duncan thought, to be fitting in well here.

Again he wondered how she would fit against him. The thought was never far from his mind. Each time he looked at her, he burned a little more intently, longed a little harder. He supposed, in a way, it was a sign that he was mending.

He wanted her to remain for a little while longer, he thought. But the rain had ceased as of late evening, and that meant she would be pulling at the bit, eager to go at first light. He could not keep her with feeble protests
of needing her to tend to his wounds. He was recovering
amazingly well. The sling he wore to house his injured arm was more for her sake than his. Strength had returned with speed.

As it should have, he thought.

He smiled at Amy as she took away his plate. “Excel
lent, as always, Amy.”

“Of course it was,” Amy retorted, but it was easy to see she was pleased at his words.

He rose, his chair scraping along the smooth floor. Duncan made his way to Beth. Hank was on one side of her and Jacob on the other, each vying for her attention.

When Duncan extended his hand to her, the others moved away.

“Will you walk with me?” He smiled at her invitingly.

“Perhaps.”

“If I make coins appear from your pretty ear?”

She hadn’t even had to look up to be aware of his presence. She had sensed him as he had crossed to her. Like a rabbit that knew a fox was nearby. But she was no rabbit. She was his match, not his prey.

Beth returned his smile as she withheld her hand for a moment. “Only if you show me how.”

He closed his hand over hers and brought her to her feet. His smile never shifted, but it was just a shadow darker around the edges.

“After my secrets again, Beth?”

She shrugged as she crossed to the terrace. It was the first clear night since she had arrived, and the doors were opened to admit the stars into the manor.

Beth walked out and leaned against the wall that surrounded the outer rim of the terrace. She looked out upon the fields.

“Those secrets are not yours,” she pointed out quickly. “They belong to any magician.”

He did not wish to address her back, unless it was to peel away her clothing and then press kisses to the soft skin he’d glimpsed beneath.

With his free hand, he turned her around to face him.
“Magic,” his breath whispered along her skin, “belongs to anyone who can seize it.”

There was nowhere to turn. The wall came up to her waist and she was pressed against it. She had thought she might be able to sidestep his efforts. She had been wrong. Beth read his meaning clearly in his eyes, eyes
so green she knew she could easily drown in them if she
didn’t hold fast to the shore.

“I am not magic, Duncan.”

“Ah.” He smiled, and suddenly there was nothing else in the world for her but him. “There we have a difference of opinion.”

Duncan slipped his hand from the sling. Taking her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers before she could utter a single protest to stop him.

It was magic suddenly to have her pulse racing and her mind galloping out of control like a horse frightened by the crack of thunder. Magic he had created within her.

There was only blackness without and a host of colors within.

Beth had no idea that when two people came together, when they touched lips in this manner, it could be so glorious, so breathtakingly stunning. The very air
had left her, as if she had run a long way to fall into his
arms this way.

His hands were roaming her back, pressing her more
urgently to him as his mouth slanted over and over again on hers, draining her, renewing her, bringing something dark and thrilling to her that she feasted on.