Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (24 page)

The sunlight that was streaming into the cabin fell across Lavender's face, and she became aware that it was morning. Slowly she opened her eyes and waited for them to properly focus. When she sat up, she discovered to her amazement that she was wearing nothing but her shift. She remembered falling asleep wearing her clothing, which now lay in a heap on the floor. Julian must have undressed her while she slept. Her face flushed pink, when she pictured what intimacy that had entailed.

When Lavender got up enough courage to stand, it took her a moment to get her sea legs because the cabin was swaying beneath her. On glancing around the cabin, she was astonished at how elegantly it had been furnished. The bed, dressing table, and chairs were of light pine with tiny etchings of rosebuds carved into the wood. Filmy white bed coverings matched the white net that was hung like a curtain around the bed and was pulled back with pink satin bows. The cabin was so charming, and so obviously feminine, Lavender wondered if it belonged to the captain's wife. It looked very much out of place on a ship of the Royal Navy.

Lavender discovered that her trunks had been placed near the door. For some reason her heart was light and she hummed a merry tune as she opened the lid of the trunk that held her gowns. She selected a soft mint-green gown to wear, hoping Julian would think it pretty. She had no trouble with the hooks and ties, since she was accustomed to dressing herself.

She was sitting at the dressing table, brushing her hair, when the door opened and Julian strolled in. Their eyes met in the mirror, and he smiled. "I am glad to see the color back in your face."

She turned around to look up at him. "I am so ashamed of myself for last night. What must the captain and his crew have thought of my behavior?"

"They are very concerned, of course, but you need not be embarrassed." One hand came down to rest on her shoulder, and with the other he reached for her hairbrush. "Here, give me that," he said, running the stiff bristles down her hair. "You have lovely hair, do you know that?"

She was radiant because of his compliment. This was a Julian she did not know at all. He was so human and easy to be with. "I am glad that you think so."

His soft, even strokes made her hair crackle as if it were alive. "Now," he said, handing the brush back to her. "You twist it up or whatever it is you do to it. I do not want anyone but me to see your hair like this." He smiled. "Hurry, because you have been invited to take lunch with the captain."

"It is quite an honor to be asked to dine with the captain of a ship, is it not?"

He smiled. "In most cases that is the truth. However, it is you who honors the captain by allowing him to entertain the Duchess of Mannington at his table."

Somehow that thought frightened her. "I do not think of myself as a duchess."

"Nonetheless, you are. I can assure you the captain is as impressed as hell with you."

Lavender did not want to have lunch with the English naval captain, but she did not want to make an issue of her feelings since Julian was being so amiable. She remembered how helpful he had been the night before when she had been so ill. What a complex man he was. There were a lot of turbulent feelings locked up inside him, but there was also gentleness. She could only guess at how unsettling it must be for him with both emotions battling for supremacy.

She pulled her hair back to the nape of her neck, not knowing how young and innocent she looked when she tied a green velvet ribbon around her golden tresses. "Does the captain have a wife, Julian?"

"No, he is unmarried. Why do you ask?"

"This cabin was obviously decorated with a woman in mind."

He pulled her to her feet. "Yes, the captain had it decorated for your comfort."

The look on her face was one of perplexity. "Surely you jest! Do you have so much influence that your navy goes out of their way to please you?"

He looked puzzled for a moment as if the thought of the Navy not going out of their way to please him was a novel idea. "I would never interfere with the Royal Navy's business. However, if they choose to make my duchess comfortable, that is an entirely different matter. Of course, the money it took to make these quarters presentable was mine."

"I am not accustomed to such treatment. I'm not even sure that I like being singled out and honored."

He turned her around, looking over her green gown with a speculative eye. "You will become accustomed to it soon enough." He arched his eyebrow. "1 do not like this gown, it's too ordinary. You Americans have never been leaders in fashion, and would never be accepted by the 'bon ton'."

As always, when she thought he was criticizing her country, her temper flared. "They suit me very well."

"I was merely jesting. You should know by now that I have no interest in fashion for myself. However, I will want you to dress stylishly."

His laughter brought a smile to her face. "I have noticed that you seem to shun convention where your own wardrobe is concerned, Julian. As to my wardrobe, with the haste the gowns were stitched, I would say the dressmaker did quite remarkably."

"They will suffice until we reach England, then I am sure my grandmother will take you and your wardrobe under her capable rule."

Lavender was not happy about the prospect of Julian's grandmother "taking her under her rule," as he put it. However, England was a long way away, and she wanted to go up on deck, so she decided not to press the matter. Julian offered her his arm, and they left the cabin together.

When Lavender came up on deck, she was met by the bluest sky she had ever seen. Forgetting to act dignified, she broke away from Julian and rushed to the ship's railing. With the sun on her face and the cooling breeze ruffling her hair, her heart sung with happiness.

She became aware of the silence around her, and she looked about in astonishment. It seemed work had stopped on board the
Monarch
, and all hands were observing the young Duchess of Mannington. On seeing that she was the center of attention, color flamed on Lavender's cheeks. Her head came up and her shoulders went back, daring Julian to criticize her as he approached with the captain.

There was no reading Julian's thoughts since his eyes were half closed. "Lavender, I would like to present Captain Foster of the Royal Navy. Captain, my wife, the Duchess of Mannington."

Lavender watched as Captain Foster bowed respectfully, and she got an impression of high cheekbones and a deeply tanned face. He seemed young to be in command of a ship. The lanterns bobbed with the swaying of the ship, their light clearly defining the captain's uniform—the English Navy uniform Lavender had come to fear and despise. His dark blue coat was trimmed with white and gold lace, as was the edging on his lapels, cuffs, and collar. He wore white knee breeches and hose. His hair was powdered beneath the black hat with gold tassels.

"I am at your service, Your Grace. And may I offer my best wishes on your marriage?"

The captain's clear blue eyes assessed her face, and she saw color stain his cheeks. It suddenly occurred to her that he was nervous about meeting her, so she smiled to put him at ease. "Thank you, Captain Foster. And may I thank you for the trouble you went to on my behalf. The cabin is lovely."

Captain Ned Foster beamed with delight. "I am glad you approve, Your Grace. There was so little time that I was not sure it would be completed before you came aboard."

It was hard for Lavender to think of this charming gentleman as her enemy. There was such an earnest light in his eyes, and he seemed so eager to please.

Julian gripped Lavender's arm possessively, and seeing this, the captain cleared his throat. "If Your Grace would follow me, luncheon awaits your pleasure."

The cabin where they dined was small, but the table was elegantly set. Regardless of the war with France, crystal glasses held the finest French wine, while the food was delicious and served on blue-and-white china.

"Your Grace," Captain Foster said, turning his eyes on the duchess. "Were you born in America? I believe I detect a slight accent."

Julian gave Lavender a warning glance, one that reminded her of their bargain. "Yes, I was, Captain. I was born in Richmond, Virginia."

"I have been told that because Virginia was home to, and under the influence of, men like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, that the population is mostly Whigs. Was it difficult for you with your different politics?"

Lavender smiled impishly at Julian. Captain Foster had taken it for granted that since she had married the duke, she must be a Tory. "I had very little trouble with the Whigs, Captain Foster. In fact some of my favorite people are Whigs."

He looked at her doubtfully. "How can that be, Your Grace?'

Again she smiled at Julian. "You will have to understand, Captain, that we in America may be either Whig or Tory, but if you scratch one of us, we will all bleed American."

"Yes, of course, Your Grace. But surely there were those of your acquaintances who condemned you because you favored we English in the war."

Laughter bubbled out of Lavender's mouth and mischief danced in her eyes when she looked at Julian. "I can assure you, Captain, that not a one of my friends ever condemned me for leaning on the side of the English."

Captain Foster was puzzled by her little jest, but Julian knew the game she was playing. His eyes swept her lovely face, and he realized she was not aware that she had Captain Foster eating out of her dainty little hand. The duke was not amused, and his eyes glinted as he wiped his mouth with his napkin and slid his chair away from the table.

"My wife and I thank you for your hospitality, Captain. The food was delicious."

Lavender knew that was her cue. "Yes, Captain Foster, thank you for a lovely afternoon."

Regret showed on the captain's face as he came quickly to his feet. "We must do this again soon," he said. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

Julian took Lavender's hand and moved to the door. "You must not forget that my wife and I are just newly married, Captain Foster," Julian reminded him.

"Yes, of course, Your Grace. Remember that I stand ready to serve you in any capacity."

Lavender did not realize that Julian was upset until he had drawn her out the door, and she had to rush to keep up with his long strides as they crossed the deck. By the time they reached the cabin and he faced her, his eyes were spitting fire.

"I assumed that once we were married you would no longer practice your sorcery on unsuspecting males. Was it your intention to flaunt your charms and flirt with the captain?"

Instead of taking exception to his accusations, Lavender smiled, still feeling mischievous. "It was not the captain I was flirting with, Your Grace, it was you."

She could not know how provocative she was being. Julian felt his body tense, and his eyes flamed.

"It is dangerous to flirt with me, Lavender. If you start something, you had better be damned sure you can finish it."

Still unaware of the effect she was having on her husband, she played the seductress. She lowered her lashes and moistened her lips with her tongue. "I never start anything I cannot finish."

In two strides he was beside her. She scarcely had time to react before his mouth came down on hers in a breath-stealing kiss that forced her lips apart. Delicious warmth spread through her veins when his lips moved across her cheek and touched her ear. "I will teach you to flirt with me, Lavender. Did you not learn your lesson that night in the Swan Tavern?"

She was incapable of speech as his wonderful hands ran around the top of her gown, brushing the top of her breasts. Then his hands moved expertly across her back, unfastening hooks, untying ribbons; and even her stays offered him no challenge. While he was undressing her, he was kissing her all the while, turning her into a quaking mass.

Lavender's head was whirling, and her heart was beating so fast she could scarcely breathe. When he picked her up and laid her on the bed, only her chemise remained.

Her eyes followed him as he removed his boots, unbuttoned his coat and draped it over a chair, then removed his cravat and tossed it aside. When he dropped his shirt on the floor, she stared at the curly black hair on his wide chest. Even though Lavender had never seen a man fully undressed before, she knew Julian's body was perfect. His legs were long and muscled, his hips narrow, his stomach flat. When he walked toward her with panther like grace, each movement was lethal and tantalizing, the instrument of his desire clearly showing he was aroused.

He dropped down beside her and pulled her to him. "You are a bold little wench. Did no one ever warn you that you could get in trouble by looking at a man like that?”

Her eyes searched his. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked in innocence.

"Don't play virtuous with me," he growled, his finger hooking in the flimsy material of her chemise, pulling it past her breasts. "You are acutely aware that every move you make is deliberate to entice a man and drive him out of his mind."

With a tug, he moved the offending garment down her thighs, and his breath caught in his throat as all of her lovely body was revealed to him. "Lavender!" he cried, grinding his mouth against hers. Indeed the little temptress was making him forget his promise to avenge his brother's death. All he could think of was the silken arms that slid around his shoulders and the soft lips that opened to his probing tongue.