Bound by the Heart (29 page)

Harder and deeper his body pushed into hers. He sucked
in a mighty lungful of air and bent his head to her shoulder, feeling himself
slipping, slipping. . . . His hands dropped to her waist, then to her hips, and
a groan spilled the ecstasy from his body.

He continued to hold her, continued to press his lips
to her throat and shoulder long after his arms had trembled with the last of
his strength. Her eyes were closed, and he kissed them tenderly before he
lifted his head and gazed down at her.

"I am truly sorry, madam," he murmured.
"I did not want it to happen that way. I fully intended to keep you
beneath me for hours until I had you begging for mercy."

Her answer was a sigh, a soft breath that caressed his
skin and changed the gentle smile into a gentler frown.

"Something tells me you were sorely in need of
that, Governess. Has your husband been that much of a fool?"

She searched the dark eyes for a hint of sarcasm, but
saw no trace of it. Only concern. She ran her fingers lightly across his wide
brow, brushing aside the unruly black waves. Her hand dropped, and she turned
her head to one side.

"Bennett has not touched me since . . ."

Wade tilted her chin, forcing her to look back up at
him.

"...
since hearing I was with
child," she said in a whisper.

"He knew it was not
his?"

"He had his suspicions. He had his accusations
and his jealousy." She paused again. "And they were well-founded. He
was not wholly to blame for the way he reacted. I was bitter and . . . and not
totally compliant all of the time."

Wade observed her for a full minute before he lowered
his mouth to hers, then to her cheek, her temple.
...
"I have already apologized twice to you, madam. Twice in
one night. It would do irreparable damage to my character were I forced to do
it again."

Summer shivered as his lips circled and pulled at one
straining breast. She felt the quick, stinging response, then heard the husky
laugh as he raised his head again.

"I am glad to see you are a good mother to my
child, not a fashionable one."

"Morgan, you have to leave. This was a terrible
risk and a foolish thing to do, and . . . and it mustn't ever happen
again."

"Never?"

"No, ne—" She stared as she felt him moving
again. Slowly. Easily. And his hands were on her thighs guiding her firmly
against him.

"Forgive me again, madam, but as you see, I have
a great need to make up for lost time."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and reached
up to wrap her hands around the column of his neck. The black curling hairs on
his chest brushed lightly over her breasts, teasing them, making her arms
tighten and a cry come softly to her lips.

"Morgan . . ."

His strong white teeth flashed in a grin. "Still
stubborn, are you, Governess? Still determined to argue with me even though you
know you must lose."

"Lose! Oh . . . you're
doing it again," she whispered.

"I'm flattered you
noticed."

"I don't mean that," she said on a gasp.
"I mean you're not playing fair."

There was a slight hesitation before he answered. Long
enough for him to feel her supple body begin to move with his.

"I never play fair,
madam. Not when the stakes are this high."

Summer lost track of time. She lay curled against
Wade's body, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped limply across his
chest. The scent of his skin, the feel of him, the sound of his deep, even
breathing was being carefully locked into her memory; each touch, each caress,
each moment of blinding, soaring ecstasy would be brought out and relived again
and again when he was gone.

She saw the first creeping fingers of dawn light
stretch in through the window and the breeze pluck tentatively at the lace
curtains. Quietly, carefully so as not to disturb him, Summer slipped out of
bed, drawing on a pale green silk robe to cover her nakedness as she walked to
the window. High on the surrounding hills splashes of yellow indicated the city
was beginning to come to life. The baby chicks in the garden were calling
petulantly for breakfast, the ever-present rush of palm trees grew in volume as
the wind swept up from the harbor. The dairymaids would be in song soon. The
fish hawkers would be chanting. The farmers would be rolling their vegetable
carts into the streets. It was time for Morgan to leave.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the buttery
contentment she felt throughout her body. Could any woman feel as satisfied, as
complete as she did now? The months of bitterness and emptiness had fallen away
as if they had never existed, and yet she had forgotten so much. She had
forgotten how he liked to fill his hands with her hair and feel it against his
own dark skin. She had forgotten how he could find and tease the secret places
until she was begging shamelessly for him. And she had forgotten how he could
be rough and careless in his lovemaking one moment, then exquisitely tender the
next, almost without warning. He had been so right that night on Bounty Key
when he'd said she had wasted so much energy fighting him. She had been so
foolish, so blind. . . .

Summer sighed as she felt Wade's hands curl around her
waist and draw her against the heat of his body.

"I thought you were asleep," she murmured.

"Is that what feather beds are for?" he
asked, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

She smiled and watched the first brilliant streamers
of sunlight splitting through the trees.

"We haven't any more time," she whispered.

He turned her around and his mouth covered hers. His
lips were incredibly warm, incredibly greedy and only raised her feeling of
panic closer to the surface. She had to be strong now. She had to be . . . for
Sarah.

"Morgan—"

"Come back to bed."

"There are already servants moving about. The
gardeners will be out soon to tidy up after the party. If someone sees
you—"

He straightened and his mouth curved down. "I
warn you, you'll suffer for your obstinacy later. I've an unforgiving nature
when it comes to being ejected from a warm bed—I'm surprised you have
forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten." The smile faded as
she watched him draw on his shirt and breeches. "Morgan . . . there
mustn't be a later. You mustn't come here again, or try to see me again. You do
know that, don't you?"

He looked up at her from the edge of the bed as he
pulled his boots on. "I know nothing of the sort."

"You know as well as I do this should never have
happened."

"It isn't what your body has been telling me all
night."

Summer flushed hotly. "Morgan, please, you are
not making this any easier."

"It was not my intention to make it easy,"
he said bluntly. "It was my intention to leave you no choice but to come
with us."

Summer's eyes widened. "Come with you?"

"Aye. To Bounty Key, temporarily anyway, until I
can get you and the child safely onto the mainland. I have a home in
Virginia—"

"Sarah and I cannot go anywhere with you,"
she cried. "Not to Bounty Key, not to Virginia . . . not anywhere! You
know we can't."

"You say that as if it is written on holy
tablets. Believe me, a bolt of lightning will not strike you down for going
against convention. If that were the case, I should be nothing more than a
charred heap by now."

"I am a married woman," she said slowly.
"I am also the governor's daughter.
...
It goes beyond mere convention."

"Why? Does being the governor's daughter make you
immune to happiness? Does it mean you have to live out the rest of your life
trapped in a marriage to a bastard like Winfield? Over my dead body, madam. The
Chimera
is
leaving Barbados tonight. I want you and Sarah both to be on her."

He announced it so calmly, so simply that Summer was
speechless for the time it took him to finish dressing.

"You are insane," she said at length.
"We are not going anywhere with you, least of all on board a ship that
probably will not even make it out of the harbor—or have you forgotten Farley
Glasse so soon?"

"I haven't forgotten," Wade said grimly.
"But it will take a better man than Glasse to put irons on me. And the man
I leave you with would have to be a damn sight better than Winfield. He'll make
an old woman out of you twenty years before your time. Sarah will turn out to
be a week-kneed simpering brat who has nothing more rewarding to do with her
time than to see whose trousers she can explore under the table linen."

Summer gaped at him in astonishment. "And what
are you offering her? An island crawling with misfits and drunkards? Lessons in
smuggling and slaving and murder? Will you have Thorny teach her the ways of
the world and Mr. Monday demonstrate his prowess to her on the beach? Dear
God, spare me your arrogant moral judgements of my family and homelife. Bennett
may not be perfect, but our life with him will at least be respectable. Sarah
will grow up with a name and a certain degree of protection as Bennett
Winfield's daughter—what will she have as Morgan Wade's baseborn child?"

"She'll be free."

"Free to do what? She'll be trapped, Morgan,
trapped and branded. Oh please, don't you see
...
if it was just me—" Her voice faltered and she had to dig her nails into
the palms of her hands. "She's all I have. She'll all I have of you and
all I can ever have of you."

"Not if you come with me, it isn't."

Summer fought the searing ache of tears building
behind her eyes. "As what, Morgan? Governor Cambridge's disowned daughter?
Bennett Winfield's runaway wife? Shall I be known as your mistress or your
whore for as long as it takes you to become tired of me?"

The blue eyes were cold and hard. She saw the tic
shiver high on his cheek, and she knew she had struck a terrible blow.

"You call
me
arrogant, madam?" He snatched at his jacket and
crossed to the narrow balcony leading off the bedroom. He searched the grounds
below for some signs of movement before he swung a leg over the rail.

He glanced back one last time. "The
Chimera
sails out of Six Man Bay at
midnight. You have until then to change your mind."

Chapter 18

S
ummer
W
infield
balled her hands into fists and tried to quell the
instinct to scream. The nerves in her entire body were stretched to the
breaking point, and the tension created such a humming in her brain that it all
but drowned out the sounds of Michael laughing in the anteroom with Sarah's
nanny.

She stared down at the empty cradle in disbelief. Her
breasts ached suddenly, violently, stinging in a reaction to what her eyes
refused to accept. She spun on her heel and ran to the nursery door, halting
before any word of alarm left her lips.

What could she say? What could she do? The nurse would
panic and protect herself by running to either Bennett or Sir Lionel. They
would come upstairs, ask questions, badger her and . . . and dear God, Bennett
would know. He would know by looking at her, and then it would be finished.

Michael laughed again, and Summer pressed her brow
against the wood of the doorjamb, needing a few precious seconds to think.
Think!

She had spent most of the day supervising and
directing the small army of servants who had scrubbed and polished and restored
the rooms to order after the party. She had welcomed the hard work, and it had
almost succeeded in taking her mind off Morgan Wade, off the very real sense of
loss that burned inside her, off the memory of his face as he had glared back
at her from the balcony.

Arrogance? No, she was not being arrogant, not
intentionally. She was only being rational. How could she, Summer Cambridge,
leave a way of life that had been all she had known for twenty years? She had
experienced more fear in that one week on board the
Chimera
than she had in her entire
life. Even if she could overcome her fears, she had to think of Sarah. She had
to choose what was best and safest for their child. Just because she had
destroyed her own chances for happiness, there was nothing on earth that would
make her destroy Sarah's.