Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) (19 page)

Fresh water was brought in. Beth lost no time in cleansing Enid as best she could. Sometime during the night, Amy had come from the manor with food for John and the children. She had brought a fresh change of bedclothes and another nightshirt for Enid. Beth recognized it to be Sylvia’s.

Beth smiled to herself. So, in her own way, Sylvia had joined this crew as well. Beth slipped the nightshirt on the woman.

Enid had not awakened since she had fainted earlier. Beth did not know if that was merciful, or a sign of something much worse.

“Please live,” she murmured.

Duncan heard and was moved. She was not just a woman to be bedded, but one to be prized as well. He watched as Beth’s fingers touched the woman’s brow.
No woman could have been gentler, even with her own
mother, he thought.

The forehead was cool, Beth thought, relieved. Her
pallor was the color of day-old porridge, but at least the
woman was breathing.

With a sigh, Beth settled into the chair where the ba
sin had been but a few minutes ago. The seat was damp,
but she did not care. If felt as if she hadn’t sat down in a fortnight.

She saw Duncan looking her way, his brow raised in question. “I’ll stay with her ’til she wakes.”

He wondered if saints were perverse and tried the pa
tience of their Maker. He knew Beth tried his.

“Beth,” Duncan said sharply, “you’re tired. It’s been a long night. I’ll take you back to the house.”

Beth gripped the arms of the rickety wooden chair, holding fast. “I’ll stay with her,” she ground out stubbornly, between teeth that were clenched. Her nerves frayed, she was far beyond reason now. If he argued with her, she would surely hit him with what little strength she had left.

“As you wish.”

Duncan knew the signs. She was past exhaustion, and would fight like a wildcat. The only way to remove her
would be by force. It was easier to let her stay. Perhaps she would fall asleep where she sat and he would carry her back.

The thought appealed to him.

Meanwhile, he closed the door and left her.

By and by, the woman’s eyes fluttered open. Pain returned, an ever-present bedfellow, but it was a different
sort of pain, like the time she had cut her hand with the
carving knife. It was like that, but multiplied a thousandfold.

“Oh, God, the pain,” Enid cried. Her hand flew to her
belly. Her eyes widened as her fingers spanned the flattened mound. “Where—?”

Beth scrambled forward, falling to her knees beside the bed. Her heart was bursting with relief. “You had a son, Enid. A beautiful, lusty boy.”

“A son,” Enid whispered. Another darling baby boy to love. Then her eyes narrowed as the memory of the long night returned. “He’s alive?”

“Yes,” Beth breathed, her fingers laced with Enid’s,
gratitude flowing through her veins. “And so are you.”

She remembered, through the haze of pain, hearing words. The baby was turned wrong. She knew two women who had died because of it.

“But how—?”

Tired though she was, Beth couldn’t help smiling. It spread from ear to ear.

“I had to take him from you. There’s an ugly cross on your stomach, but it will heal,” she promised. “And I can give you something for the pain you feel.” There were herbs easily found in the meadow that could be used and brewed to deaden the worst of it. Her father
had taught her much, as had Callie, a wizened old slave
who knew the ways of the land. “And best of all, you’ve a son to show for your wound.”

“I want to hold him. I want to hold my son,” Enid begged, a mother’s love washing away the pain coursing through her.

Beth nodded. She rose, her body feeling like lead, and moved from the room to the doorway. She opened it and something felt as if it had been set free.

“John, your wife wishes to see her newborn son. And
you,” she added for good measure, when she saw the sudden fear in the man’s eyes.

“She’s not—?” John choked upon the word as Samuel and the others crowded around.

“No,” Beth smiled, content, as she shook her head, “she’s not dying.”

The door of the cottage was opened and Beth could see the sunrise from where she stood. Long, golden fingers were reaching out across the meadow, nudging aside the darkness.

As if drawn by the sight, Beth moved to the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. Behind her, the others filed into the tiny bedroom to see Enid.

She had to remember to tell Samuel to gather the herbs she needed, she thought, too weary even to form the words now.

Duncan moved out of the way of the others. Enid
would be fine and the burden of her life lifted from his
shoulders. By the grace of Beth’s skillful hand.

He crossed to her. When he slipped his arm around her, Beth leaned against him. He smiled, content just to hold her.

For a moment, Beth allowed herself to lean into the
strength she felt emanating from Duncan. Her own was depleted, like a rain barrel with a hole in it.

“Have you ever noticed how lovely the sunrise is?” she asked softly.

“Not nearly so lovely as you.”

She raised her eyes to look at him and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her right here, in the midst of all this activity. It was not a thought that met with resistance, though she knew it should.

“You were magnificent in there.”

Far from magnificent, she had been frightened beyond belief, but there had been no choice open to her, save the one she had taken. She felt his arm tighten around her. It felt better than she could say to have him here with her like this.

She smiled at him. “I’m too tired to fight off your advances, Duncan.”

He knew she was right. He could easily have her
now. But it would not be fair. When they came together,
he wanted her fully alert and awake. Aware of every
thing. For the experience was one to be shared by them
both, not just him alone.

“For now,” he told her, as he began to guide her out the door, “there’ll be no advances.” She looked at him
in surprise. “I give you my word,” he promised. “Come,
I’ll take you home.”

She was too exhausted to correct him. It wasn’t her home, but his he was taking her to. But for now, anyplace would do.

When she sagged, he lifted her easily into his arms. “Your shoulder,” she protested.

“Is well, thanks to you, as are my friends. Now, hold
your peace for once, woman, and let me take care of you.”

The protest died on her lips as she lay back in his arms. “Just for now,” she murmured.

She fell asleep a moment before her body touched the
bed and she slept the whole of the day away, too exhausted even to turn.

When she awoke, the first thing her eyes rested upon was Duncan. He was sitting, dozing, in a chair beside
her bed, just as she had sat beside Enid, and before that,
beside him.

But she was not in any need for medical aid.

Beth looked about. Dusk was entering the room. Had she truly slept so long?

As she stirred, she saw Duncan’s eyes open. “Why aren’t you in your bed?” She struggled to clear the cobwebs from her mind.

A smile slowly curved his mouth. “The view there is
not nearly so beautiful.” Now that she was awake, there
were questions he wanted to ask. He shifted from the chair to her bed. “How did you know what to do? Last night, how did you know?”

Beth sat up, dragging a hand through her hair. “My father’s a doctor. He took me with him when he tended to his patients. At times he let me help. He would always let me watch him when he worked.” She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her as she wrapped her arms around them.

Duncan frowned slightly. ‘”Tis a strange thing to let a daughter do.”

So many people thought
. Beth shrugged. “He has no sons. I think I fill that space for him.”

Duncan laughed softly. “If he thinks of you as a son, the man’s eyes are not what they should be.” His eyes seemed to touch her everywhere at once. And burned what they touched. “I’ve never seen a less likely boy.”

She averted her face. His eyes were too intense and her resolve too weak. “I am not like my sisters. I have no interest in ‘womanly’ things.”

“Your training, odd as it is, was very fortunate for Enid.” He cupped his hand about her cheek. She was forced to turn her eyes to his. It was her downfall. “But you don’t speak the truth.”

“What?”

“You have an interest in some womanly things, Beth.” He rubbed his thumb over her lip. Instantly, the last vestiges of sleep fled. Every fiber of her body was awake.

Waiting.

He saw desire bloom in her eyes, and it aroused him to a fever pitch he didn’t think possible. Very deliberately, he gathered her into his arms.

Alarmed, she pulled back, knowing she possessed no strength to fight him. Or herself.

“Duncan, you promised.”

“Aye, that I did.” He smiled, knowing full well the words he had spoken. “But that was this morning, at dawn,” he pointed out. “And I kept my promise then. But this is now.”

The next moment, his mouth found hers as if it was the other half of a whole. The other half of his soul.

Chapter Nineteen

This is what it must be like, Beth thought, to be drunk on wine. To be so hopelessly intoxicated that you do not know of anything beyond your own senses. And even those were not to be trusted. Everything seemed to be so much larger, so much brighter, so much more overpowering now. There was nothing outside of herself, save for the haven created by this man.

A haven within a storm.

A haven that had its own storm.

As Duncan’s lips moved over hers, coaxing, stirring, hot and moist, Beth became aware of a hunger within her, a hunger she did not understand, for things she did not know of.

Unable to stop herself, she wound her fingers into his
hair. It was as if her body had parted company with her
mind, as if it had deserted her will completely and was now rushing recklessly toward something she sensed was wondrous. Though she fought against it, her body was attempting to drag her along with it in its wake.

She could not surrender. There was too much at stake and no time to indulge herself, even if it was proper and
without sin.

Trembling, she shifted until she managed to wedge her hands to Duncan’s chest and push him back. Her heart pounded so that she could speak only in a whisper, a whisper that tempted and aroused him.

“I cannot do this.”

“This?” he questioned innocently.

Gently Duncan passed his hand over her cheek, barely grazing the silken skin. His own heart was beating harder than he had ever known it to beat before. Beating hard from wanting her.

From knowing that he was not to have her.

As hot as his blood surged within him, Duncan would not force himself upon her. He wanted no accusations in
those blue eyes when they looked at him, for they would haunt him all the days of his life.

Just as she would now.

Even the lightest of touches ignited flames within her.
Beth tried to draw away, but there was hardly anywhere to go upon the bed.

“You know what I mean.”

“No.” His breath tantalizing her face, Duncan softly pressed a kiss to the slender slope of her neck. “Tell me,” he whispered.

He knew very well what she meant. And what he meant for them to do. What she longed to do. “Coupling,” she breathed.

“Cannot, Beth?” he echoed. “Nay, never say cannot.”
His fingers twined with hers. “Let me show you the way of it.”

Beth shook her head. “No, I—“

Everything within her shouted, “Yes,” begged for it to be “yes.” But she knew that if she gave in to him, to her own hunger, she would no longer be her own mas-

ter. She would be tied to this man who could make her want things that should be beyond her reach.

It was a wicked battle that raged within her.

It lasted all of a few moments but felt like eternity to her. Determination triumphed, much to desire’s sorrow.
With a mighty cry, Beth pushed him from her, from the
very bed.

Duncan fell with a thud to the floor. He hit his head
against the bedpost as he landed. Stunned, he rubbed his head and looked up at her.

Beth rose and ignored the desire to see to his head. ‘Though you make my body rebel against my mind—“

Duncan did not let her continue. Instead, he smiled in
victory. “Do I Beth? Do I?”

His words hung about her like a beckoning siren’s song. It was easy to see that he had made his life upon the sea. The rogue.

“You know you do.” Her hands upon her hips, she looked down at him. “And I cannot say that it is not—“ She searched for a word that would not incriminate her. “—Pleasant.”

Duncan leaned on an elbow, his brow arched in amusement. “Only pleasant?”

“Yes.” She ground out the word. The man was as far
from being a gentleman as Virginia was from France.
“Pleasant,” she repeated. “I cannot dally with you any longer. I must go to Paris.”

Dally was it? Perhaps the woman needed a lesson after all. “To save your father,” he quoted patiently.

She didn’t care for the condescending tone in his voice. Did he think her a child on a fool’s mission, to be patiently humored until she lost interest?

“Yes, to save my father.”

Duncan shook his head. They had been over this
ground before. It was a stubborn breed that God had put
into skirts.

“You are a woman,” he pointed out patiently. “I would not use the word ‘mere,’ for there is nothing mere about you, but the fact remains that you are a woman, and subject to the lascivious desires of any man.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down upon him. “I can care for myself.”

“Can you, Beth?” Had she listened for it, she would have heard the warning note in his voice.

But as it was, she was too busy taking umbrage at
Duncan’s presumption to notice. Beth lifted her chin
stubbornly. “Yes, I can.”