The Pirate's Secret Baby (42 page)

He whispered French phrases into her ear, telling her how wonderful her responses were, how lovely to see her passion in full play, how fortunate he was to be able to touch her
so
as he eased her legs apart and placed the fur pillow beneath her. It raised her to his mouth, to those skillful fingers working inside her in concert with his tongue, stroking her, and in the quiet of the room the only sounds now were of him loving her and her own moans as the sensations ramped higher until she had to jam her hand between her teeth to keep from waking the house.

When the spinning room righted itself she gasped, "What Oriental technique was that?"

"I forget if that was number sixteen or--who cares?" he murmured, inflicting small, biting kisses on her as he moved up to her side until he was braced over her, his beautiful eyes veiled by his ridiculously lush lashes. He kissed her languidly, open-mouthed, taking his time to know everything about her. She understood why she'd said yes after so long.

She'd been waiting for Robert Huntley, Captain St. Armand, who swept her up into his strong arms and took her away from her safe and boring existence in the islands to a life full of pirates and puppies and laughter. A life she'd never been willing to imagine for herself after the disasters of London. A life full of all that she'd dreamed of--passion and excitement and adventure. It was the life she was meant for, she'd known that in the constraints of her girlhood, and it was the life she'd chosen, once upon a time.

He pushed himself into her, hard, and it was right, so right, to be taken this way, to release all of her dark desires. He paused, the muscles on his arms straining where he held himself up, looking down at her with burning, black eyes as his chest heaved, sweat gleaming across his face.

"I am going to start moving now, and I am going to thrust deep and fast," he rasped. "Do not fear--when you start screaming in ecstasy I will understand."

Such a comment would normally bring at the very least a snicker, but now his words heated her blood, raising her need to an even higher pitch. He read the expression on her face with satisfaction and a small quirk of those sculpted lips and began to do as he promised. She held on to his hips, her own legs locked over his back, relishing the play of sinew and muscle beneath her fingers as he flexed himself within her. The stark bones of his face were outlined by the tight flesh as he pumped into her with deep thrusts bordering on painful, but it was exactly what she wanted. He kept himself in check, holding back his own release so she would get the utmost pleasure. He was charmingly courteous and considerate for a pirate, and she pulled her legs up and allowed him deeper access, a good move for both of them.

"Lydia," he murmured her name, caressing the syllables, as he moved in her. They said nothing more, words no longer coming between them, no longer necessary as they used their bodies and their passion to show their love for one another.

* * * *

Robert was tempted to burn the letter from his cousin Lionel begging for assistance. Not surprisingly, the presumed heir to Huntley found himself without friends or funds once the actual heir returned. Some might consider the weasel a minor annoyance, but Captain St. Armand knew from experience men killed for wealth and position, for far lower stakes than the barony of Huntley. He'd have to deal with it eventually, but he had more important matters to take care of when he went to London, including ensuring there were no untidy ends left from Thomas Wilson's abrupt departure from the city.

Laughter floated out from the window of the nursery to his study. He'd never grow tired of hearing that sound. For too long Huntley Manor had not echoed with the sound of children's laughter, or the laughter of a woman in love. He needed to secure his future with a beautiful (and amazingly imaginative) wife, more children, and keeping Mattie as safe as he could from an unkind world.

Lydia claimed he was a good man. Now he would prove it.

"Miss Burke, there is something wrong with Papa. Is he ill?"

Lydia hugged the motherless child to her chest, knowing the thought of her strong father being ill terrified her.

"No, Mattie, I am absolutely certain your father is not ill. His color is good, he had an excellent appetite at breakfast, remember? It must simply be he is adjusting to life here, just as we had to adjust to walking on land after being aboard ship for so long. You had to learn how to be a member of the
Prodigal Son's
crew, now your papa is learning how to be Lord Huntley."

"I don't like this adjustment," she said with a youngster's honesty. "I want my pirate papa back. And I want knife practice."

Robert had been replaced by a changeling and in lieu of a dashing pirate, the boredom fairies left an English country squire. Serious. Sober. Dressed in browns and grays and muted shades of blue doing little to enhance his appearance. He arose at an early hour and worked all day except to break for luncheon, where he'd quiz Mattie about her lessons. Bedtime tales of bloodthirsty pirates were replaced with books about good little boys and girls who never did anything bad and were always a shining example to others. Lydia caught herself jerking awake out of a doze after one of these instructional interludes.

Knife practice was suspended, with a suggestion that Mathilde work on her needlework instead. It was a suggestion which would have led to a temper tantrum of epic proportions had Mattie not been as stunned as Lydia by the idea.

Lydia would have enjoyed having the pirate back herself. The man sitting in the big chair in the study still looked like Robert, if you squinted and held your head to the side, but where was the earring? The red satin? The kohl-lined eyes?

Sails was so morose she feared he'd turn to drink if he had to keep dressing Robert as he did.

"Cap'n insists on it, Miss Burke. I didn't even know he had such dull clothes in his wardrobe. I figured they were for dress-up, like when he needs to fool the navy or hoodwink someone like that Wilson. Even the vicar's waistcoat has more style than that garment he wore to supper," he said, shaking his head. "I offered him the purple satin, but he said it was gaudy and inappropriate attire. Inappropriate attire! Never thought I'd hear Captain St. Armand say such a thing!"

When they gathered for luncheon the lord of the manor made an announcement.

"I am leaving for London tomorrow, ladies. Mr. Fuller will be here if any difficulties arise, but my business shouldn't take too long."

"I want to go to London too, Papa! I want to see the Tower where people are kept prisoner and tortured and executed!"

"Such an excitable child," Robert murmured, then raised his voice. "No, Mattie, not this time. I promise we will go to London together, perhaps in the springtime before the city gets too fetid."

"Miss Burke too? And Jolly?"

"I will rent a house. Now, no more about this. Shall I bring you a new doll from London?"

"I'd rather have my own pistols, Papa."

"Of course you would."

Robert left the next morning, finally looking more like himself. It gave Lydia hope to see him dressed in a coat of blue superfine, buckskin breeches molded to his long, long legs, and black topboots polished by Sails until they reflected the sunlight poking through the leaves. He looked good, despite his duller than usual plumage. Of course, Robert Huntley looked good in nothing at all, though she'd not been graced with that sight either for the past week. He'd politely said good night to her each evening, then retired to his study or his bedroom.

At first she'd worried that something she'd done gave him a disgust of her--possibly that interlude with the feathers and the string of beads--but when she thought further, she just shook her head. This morning when he picked up his calfskin gloves from the table in the hall he'd paused and looked at them thoughtfully before pulling them on, flexing his fingers inside the soft leather, and when he retrieved his riding crop he slapped it lightly against his palm and smiled, a smile much more reminiscent of the pirate St. Armand than the baron.

But he was sober and thoughtful when he bade them farewell. He hugged Mattie to his chest and she threw her arms around his neck and said, "I love you, Papa, even when you are a baron and not a pirate! I will love you always and forever, that's a promise!"

"It pleases me to hear you say that, poppet. I love you too."

"Will you be careful in London, Papa? It is a big town and you won't have Jolly with you to guide you home if you get lost."

"I will be careful in London, Mattie. And what of you, Miss Burke, will you miss me?"

She leaned closer to him and said into his ear, "I will think of you every night when I play with my toys, my lord."

She was gratified by his dumbfounded expression. His mouth opened, then closed, and he appeared about to say something, but instead mounted his horse and with a final wave, rode off. The ladies held hands and watched until he was out of sight.

It was amazing how empty a big house could feel with the absence of just one man. That night Lydia put Mattie to bed by herself, and Mattie clapped her hands in approval when Captain Johnson's book was retrieved from the shelf, banishing the storybook about the little boy who was horribly good and who kept his room neat as a pin. He probably ate his beets too, Mattie pointed out, good enough reason to push him off a cliff. Lydia didn't remonstrate with her and her eye remained remarkably twitch free.

"Tonight we will read of how Anne Bonny turned to the pirate's life, Mattie," Lydia said, resuming their story. "'Her father expected a good match for her; but she spoilt it all, for without his consent she marries a young fellow who belonged to the sea, and was not worth a groat which provoked her father to such a degree, that he turned her out of doors...'"

Lydia continued reading with renewed appreciation for the pirate through to the end, and both ladies agreed it was better not knowing for certain what happened to Anne over time.

"Pirates take care of each other, don't they?"

"A good ship is crewed by good shipmates, Mattie, and good people watch out for one another. And on that, it's time for bed," Lydia added, listening to the child's prayers. Those took time because they included Mattie's mama in heaven, her papa here, Miss Burke, the entire crew of the
Prodigal
and Jolly, of course.

Lydia tucked the covers around the girl, who held her arms up for a hug, and she embraced Mattie, inhaling her fragrance of fresh air, soap and little girl.

"Good night, Miss Burke. I love you."

"I love you too, my dear."

The dog trotted out with her and the governess left the door slightly ajar. Jolly had the makings of a mouser and Mrs. Farmer was very much in favor of the pup roaming the kitchens at night to keep the rodents at bay, though the dog always ended the evening's rambles in Mattie's bed.

Despite her provocative words to Robert, Lydia wasn't interested in playing with her toys, not by herself. It had been much more enjoyable to use them with her naughty pirate. If it wasn't her bedroom behavior that made him change, could it be her fault in other ways? Hadn't she constantly sniped at him about his piratical ways, about reforming, about not being such a reprobate and setting a better example for Mattie? He was certainly doing all of that now, to her great frustration. She wanted to swing a cutlass at him herself, just to get a good reaction.

Swing a cutlass...

She of all people knew there was truth to the old saying that the pen was mightier than the sword. Now she had to prove it.

The house quiet, the dog off on his midnight rambles, Lydia sat at her desk, sharpened her quill, and began to write.

Robert climbed down wearily from his horse, worn to a nub by his hurried trip south. He patted the gelding on his flank and handed him off to Henry, the lad working in the stable. Braxton informed him the ladies were in Ashwyn and expected back before dark. Robert changed his clothing and washed, ignoring Sails mumbled complaints, then went to his study to secure the items he'd purchased in London.

He paused as he was about to sit in the chair he now considered
his
chair, the master's chair. There was a package on it, brown paper tied with string.
For Captain St. Armand
was written on the front in a familiar hand.

Inside was his banknote for a governess's wages, torn in half. The two pieces fluttered to the desk, and he looked at them in dismay. His reputation for knowing what women wanted left him at sea with his Lydia. Figuring her out was like trying to decipher a treasure map, a map that promised reward for a lifetime, but also said, "Here be sea serpents!"

He shook his head and unwrapped the rest of the package. It was a sheaf of foolscap and on the top page was written
The Impetuous Pirate--Memoirs of a Kidnapped Lady,
by Randy Scribe. Intrigued, he sat and turned to the next page.

My tale, dear reader, risks offering salacious entertainment to low-minded persons, but it is not for that reason I take pen in hand. I do not write of my adventures in the brawny arms of the lusty pirate Valdez to titillate or arouse base passion. When I write of how his burning kisses inflamed me, how his ivory shaft with its vermillion head made me long to caress it, to feel its prodigious length pierce my tender, warm sheath, to feel those mighty thrusts of delight, over and over again until my journey to love's enchantment was fulfilled, it is not to inspire prurient interest, but rather to edify readers as to the risks inherent in being a young woman adrift in today's dangerous world...

When Braxton brought the post to the study he nearly ran into his lordship, on his way out.

"Braxton, I am not to be disturbed. If anyone asks for me I'll--I'll be in my bunk."

"Yes, my lord."

* * * *

"Good afternoon, Braxton. Lord Huntley has returned?"

"He was here, ma'am, then he left again just an hour or so ago. He did say he would see you ladies before Mattie goes to sleep, but not to wait supper for him. I must tell you though, he appeared"--Braxton sought the right word--"distracted."