Sea of Desire (41 page)

“ ‘Tis raining again,” Jared whispered as he
bent to sip the moisture from her flesh.

Instinctively Merideth arched, braiding her
fingers through his damp curls and holding him close.

“I came because I couldn’t help myself. But
the decision is yours. I’ll leave if you want me to.” His breath
singed her skin.

“No.” Her fingers tightened. “Don’t go.” She
guided his mouth back to hers, kissing him with all the intensity,
all the expertise, he’d taught her. Her tongue met his, parried,
ignited the fires of their passion.

She lay naked under the coverlet and his
large hands skimmed down, caressing her. He cupped her breast while
he made love to her mouth. The pad of his thumb slid over her
nipple and she moaned, lifting her back from the linen sheet and
filling his hand more completely.

Nudging the gold locket aside with his chin,
Jared kissed a path down the valley of her chest. His whiskers
abraded the tender skin, sending shivers of pleasure shooting
through her body. Then the moist heat settled over her nipple and
he sucked it into his mouth.

Merideth’s legs spread, wrapping around his
body. The doeskin of his breeches felt damp and rough between her
thighs, erotic. But she wanted him, the hair-roughened texture of
his skin, the steel-hard manhood that pressed against her
stomach.

With eager hands she pulled at his clothing.
He jerked his arms behind him, managing to rid himself of the
shirt. It went sailing to the floor, and with a shuddered sigh
Merideth ran her hands down the bulging muscles of his arms.

The breeches were more difficult. Jared slid
down the bed between her legs, his mouth wetting a path as he went.
His hands fumbled with the flap of his breeches; his tongue probed
the honeyed folds of her body. She was wet and ready, the tremors
setting her aquiver with the first heated contact.

She cried out, a siren song that drove Jared
to the brink. He tore at his pants, freeing himself and driving
into her with one powerful plunge. She called out his name,
clasping him to her with arms and legs while her body writhed,
milking him with wave upon shattering wave of pleasure.

When some semblance of reason returned, Jared
rolled to his back, his arm thrown over his head, his face toward
her. Lightning flashed, searing the room with a split second of
white light. Enough time for him to see her clearly. To set an
imprint of her perfection on his mind.

He leaned up on an elbow, his fingers
tangling in the riot of golden curls spread across the pillow. “You
are so beautiful. Like an angel,” he whispered, and bent to kiss
her lips.

She turned away.

“What is it?” With his fingers he cupped her
chin, pulling her back toward him. He could only see the pale image
of her face, the sparkle of her eyes.

“I’m not an angel,” Merideth breathed,
embarrassed that she was close to tears. “I’m but a woman.” “A
woman who loves you,” she almost said, but pride kept her from it.
The pride that made her know she could not stay here any longer,
when his every touch shattered her soul.

“I know what you are,” he murmured, his
fingers drifting down the curve of her jaw to her neck. “The
locket,” he said, lifting the gold oval, feeling the heat from her
body stored in the precious metal. “You always wear it. What’s
inside?”

“ ‘Tis a miniature. A painting of my
mother... and me. I was three when she died, but I remember her.
Her sunshine and light... her happy laugh when she was with
me.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, really.” Merideth swallowed.
“She became ill. Miss Alice took me to her room. She said I must be
very good and very quiet or my mother would leave. Her bedchamber
was dark... all the curtains were drawn tight, and the only candle
was guttered. I could barely see her.” She was quiet a moment and
Jared thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep. But when she spoke again
her voice was strong and clear.

“I asked why it was so dark... complained my
mother couldn’t see. Miss Alice yanked on my ear.” Her hair rustled
on the pillowcase as she turned her head to face him. “My mother
died that night.”

His arm slid beneath her, drawing her close.
“Was your father there?”

“No. He was... I don’t know where he was. But
he rarely stayed at home. Not until debt limited his
traveling.”

“I’d like to see it... the painting of you
and your mother,” Jared whispered into her hair.

“You shall,” came her breathy reply.

In the morning he was gone. Merideth awoke to
bright sunshine and dressed quickly. When she wandered downstairs
Belle told her the master had gone off to the fields again and
would be home late.

Disappointed, Merideth ate a quick breakfast.
She’d planned to talk with him today. To ask him straight out why
he’d brought her here and what he planned to do with her. She
wanted the answers, though she dreaded them. Dreaded them because
she feared she already knew the answers.

She was a trophy of war to him. Like his
ancestor the pirate, he’d captured her. But unlike the long-ago
rogue, Jared Blackstone had no intention of marrying his
captive.

Feeling more and more dejected as she faced
the realities of her situation, Merideth wandered about the house.
Mr. Guthre had shown her most, but not all, of the rooms last
evening. Today she entered one he hadn’t included on his tour.

It was a library, book-lined and smelling of
leather and wood. The shutters were closed, but dust motes still
danced in the slanted rays of light that filtered through the
wooden slats.

The portrait above the mantel caught her eye,
and Merideth moved toward it, mesmerized. It was the pirate and his
lady, of that she had no doubt. The man was large and blond, with a
wildness about him so like his great-grandson. The woman was dark
and pretty, and they looked at each other with such love that
Merideth was momentarily jealous of the long-dead couple. Surely
such devotion as theirs transcended time.

“Ah, I see you’ve found the skeleton in our
closet.”

Merideth whirled around, hand at her throat,
to see Daniel Wallis blocking the doorway.

“The pirate,” he said, pointing to the
painting. “Though I prefer to think of him as a pariah.”

“Jared doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daniel shut the door. “Are you
ready?”

“Ready?”

He shrugged delicately. “To begin your return
trip to England. You do still want to go, don’t you?”

Merideth glanced over her shoulder at the
portrait, then back at the captain’s cousin. “Yes,” she said, her
voice low. “I think it time I go home.”

Jared took the winding central stairs three
at a time. Small clumps of rich black Carolina mud dirtied the
polished treads and he knew he’d get a scolding from Belle, but he
didn’t care. He was anxious to see Merideth. Too anxious to take
the time to remove the boots he’d worn in the fields.

After a sharp rap on the door, which brought
no answer, he turned the brass knob. Filtered light drenched the
room like melted butter on a biscuit. He glanced at the high bed
draped in gossamer netting and couldn’t help a smile.

He’d left her in that bed early this morning,
rising before dawn so he could finish his tour of the fields and be
back by the evening meal. He and Bartrom had spent all day on
horseback discussing the plantation, and he was tired.

And he wanted to see Merideth.

Retracing his dash up the stairs, he checked
the parlor. She wasn’t there either.

Today Jared had reached several decisions.
One was to reflood all the fields. His grandmother had converted
much of Royal Oak’s acreage to the growing of indigo. It had been a
smart move in 1743. Indigo was a good cash crop that grew well in
the Low Country. It had helped make the Blackstones one of the
wealthiest families in the Carolinas.

But indigo couldn’t be eaten. And Jared
feared a British blockade. Despite the attempt to thwart the
British navy by privateers such as himself, England still ruled the
seas. It wouldn’t be long until Charles Town followed northern
cities like New York and Philadelphia in having its ports
closed.

Then the people of South Carolina would have
to depend upon themselves for food. They would need rice.

Jared never doubted the eventual outcome of
the war... especially after meeting and conversing with Benjamin
Franklin. Eventually the French would enter the conflict.
Eventually the Americans would prevail. But in the meantime Jared
meant to do all he could to see his homeland provided for.

He had made another decision today while
riding beneath wispy beards of Spanish moss. This one concerned
Merideth. Jared stuck his head in the dining room, his gaze
sweeping over the large room.

“She ain’t in there.”

Turning, Jared gave Belle a smile, which grew
wider when he saw her scowl. “I can see that. Where—”

“What you doin’ trackin’ mud all over my
clean floors? Why, your mama would roll over in her grave if’n she
saw it.”

“Sorry.” Jared bent down and gave the old
black woman a quick hug. He was secretly pleased he could no longer
receive the punishment of no dessert. “Where is Lady Merideth?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? Is she in the gardens?” His shoulders
lifted. “Did she go for a ride?”

“Gone, I said she was gone. Left first thing
this mornin’.”

Comprehension was slow to come, basically
because he’d stopped thinking of Merideth in terms of his captive.
But when it hit, Jared was filled with impotent rage. “Where in the
hell did she go? How?”

“Don’t you go cursin’ like that. She went off
with Mistah Daniel. He said you knowed about it.”

Jared was to the front door before Belle’s
voice stopped him. He gripped the handle, his knuckles white as he
turned. “What did you say?” God, when he got his hands on Daniel,
he’d have some explaining to do. What did he think he was doing,
spiriting Merideth off like this?

“I said, she done left a letter for ye. In
the library. Said to make sure ye got it.”

Without another word Jared clomped down the
hall toward the library. It was his favorite room at Royal Oak.
Even as a child, while John was upstairs observing his plants or
collecting rocks, Jared liked to come to the library. He’d look at
the portrait of his great-grandfather and imagine himself on the
high seas.

But this time when he entered the book-lined
room, it wasn’t the picture but the letter on the mantel beneath it
that drew his gaze.

Beside the gold locket.

Picking it up, Jared swallowed as his fingers
closed over the oval of gold. He’d never seen it other than around
her beautiful neck. Trailing the ribbon from his hand, he grabbed
up the folded parchment and tore open the wax seal. Feeling very
tired, he sat in the chair behind his desk.

Her handwriting was neat and even. The letter
was short, and reading it made his heart ache unbearably.

Dearest Jared,

By the time you read
this I will be on my way back to England. Leaving you is painful,
and the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I think it best.
Though I long ago decided you couldn’t have killed my father, I
know you neither believe nor trust me. And I find I cannot live
with that.

Please don’t worry
about me. I shall be fine. I’m leaving the locket to help you
remember me. I shall always remember you.

I love you.

Merideth

Jared looked from the signature on the
parchment to his hand. Slowly he unfurled his fingers till the gold
locket lay in his palm. Delicate filigree swirls decorated the
outside. With a flick of his thumb, he unhooked the tiny latch. The
top opened like the shell of a clam.

Jared recognized Lord Alfred on the left,
though the Englishman appeared much younger and in better health.
But it was the miniature on the right that held his interest.
There, looking very much like Merideth, was a young woman with
light hair. Beside her sat a beautiful child. A child with the face
of an angel.