Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (42 page)

The look of pure triumph which Emmie shot in Bethlyn’s direction confirmed her fears. Emmie Gray was in love with her husband, but was Ian in love with her?

“Emmie has been a godsend,” Mrs. Babcock continued. “Our dear grandson was all the family we had left until his death. But Emmie has become the granddaughter we never had.” She patted Emmie’s hand. “A gift from heaven, to be sure.”

Bethlyn thought Emmie Gray was the devil’s own.

Hidden beneath that pretty countenance, framed by long, silver-gold hair and wide blue eyes which contained an innocence any angel would envy, Bethlyn sensed duplicity. There was no reason why she should feel this way, but she’d come here expecting not to like Emmie, and she didn’t. Something wasn’t right about Emmie Gray, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it might be. Did she feel this way because she’d already decided that Emmie was out to steal her husband?

“How very nice for you, Mrs. Babcock. I can tell that Miss Gray is a wonderful person,” Bethlyn said without rancor, and pasted a pleasant smile on her face.

Mrs. Babcock looked tired and very frail. Bethlyn started to take her leave, but the old lady insisted she stay and speak with Emmie, that she must retire as she hadn’t felt well the last few days.

The maid appeared at Mrs. Babcock’s summons and helped her from the room. Bethlyn and Emmie were left alone, sitting quietly together until Emmie poured them tea.

“I do hope Mrs. Babcock isn’t coming down with influenza. She doesn’t seem in the best of health.” Bethlyn added sugar and stirred her tea.

“I do so worry about her and Mr. Babcock,” Emmie declared softly. “They’ve taken the place of my family.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of your tragedy. I’m very sorry.” 

“Everyone was killed. My … parents … and Baby Tad, my little brother.” Emmie choked on her words as sobs welled in her throat. “No one but me escaped those … those horrid savages!”

Bethlyn decided it was no wonder everyone had taken Emmie Gray to their hearts. A poor and pretty young orphan, Bethlyn judged her to be about eighteen, but there was something about Emmie which caused her to seem older than her years, more experienced than the innocent and naive facade she projected.

After a few seconds she composed herself, apologizing to Bethlyn.

“I understand perfectly, Miss Gray. Tell me, how long do you plan to remain in Philadelphia?”

“As long as I’m wanted.”

Wanted by whom? The Babcocks? By Ian? Bethlyn almost asked, but Emmie answered her question for her.

“Mr. Briston has been most kind to me. I do appreciate everything he has done to help me. He has made me feel most welcome and wiped many of my tears away.”

Bethlyn placed her cup and saucer on the silver tea tray, deciding to play the Tory wife to the hilt. “That is a puzzlement, Miss Gray. Why should my husband, a loyal servant of the king, take such an interest in you?”

“I suggest you ask him, Mrs. Briston.”

“I see no need, Miss Gray. My husband is easily moved by sad tales and pities any unfortunate human being.”

Bethlyn rose from her seat, and Emmie followed suit. Almost by mutual consent, they squared off, each eyeing the other in veiled contempt.

“I doubt a man would leave a happy and loving home to travel in the bitter cold because of pity. I suggest you think on this before you ask him anything.”

Emmie Gray was more of a threat to her marriage than Bethlyn had thought. What had happened between Emmie and Ian for Emmie to insinuate that Ian didn’t love her any longer? She felt extremely shaken by Emmie’s attitude, but she’d never allow her to see her unease. Instead, she remained at eye level with the woman, not blinking a lash.

Bethlyn managed a tight smile. “If my husband has visited you and offered you his friendship and help, you should place great value on them and not be too sad when he doesn’t visit you as often. I assure you that after tonight, he’ll find no need to visit here unless to pay respects to Mr. Babcock. Good day, Miss Gray.”

Twirling around, Bethlyn let herself out and was glad to find Pearl already seated in the carriage. Before they drove away, Bethlyn caught sight of Emmie Gray’s face, purple with rage, at the window. For a second she almost swore that the woman’s eyes blazed a deep, burning red, and reminded her of a picture of a demonic creature she’d seen in a book once.

Why couldn’t Ian see her as she did?

She must win Ian back to her, make him want her again. A plan formed in her mind, and she giggled aloud. Pearl looked curiously at her.

“Pearl, when we get home I should like you to prepare a wonderful meal and please serve it in my room tonight.”

“Are you gonna eat alone, Miss Bethlyn?”

“No, dear Pearl, I should like a cozy dinner for two.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Pearl winked knowingly.

20

 
“Oh, missus, please forgive me and don’t think bad of me.”

“Annie, whatever are you wailing about?” Bethlyn queried and began to remove her cloak when she entered her bedroom, Annie on her heels. “Well, what is it?” she asked impatiently when an answer wasn’t forthcoming, growing aggravated by Annie’s constant sniffling.

She didn’t like to be short with the servants, but it seemed that the more she questioned Annie, the louder and harder she cried.

“The master will … beat … me.”

“God in heaven, Annie, what is it?”

Finally Annie stopped sniffling and raised red-rimmed eyes to Bethlyn. Annie sniffed and blew her nose loudly into her kerchief. “I done promised Miss Molly I wouldn’t say nothing until after she left, but I’m fearful for her.”

“Is something wrong with Molly? Tell me, Annie.”

Annie’s lower lip trembled. “I’m breaking my promise by telling you, but one of those foreign soldiers came to the door this afternoon with a letter for Miss Molly from that soldier she loves. She made me help her pack. She’s leaving with this soldier for New York. Her young man asked her to marry him and that’s what she’s going to do. It’s so romantic and all, missus, and I wonder if any man will love me like that. Running away is so sneaky but sweet…”

Bethlyn didn’t wait to hear the rest. She immediately headed for Molly’s room, startling Molly when she entered without knocking. Molly stood in the center of the room, dressed for traveling in her warmest gown and cloak, her small portmanteau in her hand.

“Annie has a large mouth,” Molly noted.

“Never mind her, Molly. I want you to reconsider leaving like this. You may be making a terrible mistake.”

Molly shook her head in denial. Her eyes sparkled, her usually pale, tear-stained face positively glowed with vitality. Bethlyn hadn’t seen her this happy in quite some time.

“I appreciate your cautious words, Bethlyn, but I think you’re mimicking what you believe Ian would want you to say to me. I know you don’t believe I’m making a mistake. How can I be when I’m going to marry the man I love?”

Molly went to her and the two of them embraced. Tears shone in her eyes. “I’ll write to you and Ian as soon as I’m settled. I love you both very much, and I will be deliriously happy.”

Bethlyn didn’t doubt that for a second. “Wait and tell Ian good-bye. He’ll be upset for you to leave like this.”

Molly smiled sadly. “I can’t do that. I must leave now. I know that if I tell Ian, we’ll get into an argument, and I don’t want to be separated a second longer from Hans. He’d have come for me himself, but he couldn’t get away. An officer in Hans’s regiment is waiting for me with a horse at the back of the house. He’s a good friend to Hans and me; I’ll be safe with him.”

Bethlyn wished Molly would wait until daybreak, but, like Molly, she knew how time dragged when not in the company of the man you loved. Molly had been miserable for so long that Bethlyn didn’t argue with her. Instead she hugged Molly again. “Please be careful and write as soon as you can.”

“I will, I do hate leaving you to bear the brunt of Ian’s rage, but there’s no other way, Bethlyn. Please understand.”

Bethlyn was about to assure Molly that she did understand when Annie rushed into the room, breathless and on the verge of tears to announce that Ian had just returned home and was coming up the stairs.

“Oh, Bethlyn, he’ll stop me. I know he will!” Molly cried, looking almost like a trapped mouse about to be cornered by a large cat.

“I’ll stall him somehow. Sneak down the back stairs to the stables, and promise me you’ll be happy, Molly.” Quickly she kissed Molly on the cheek and left Molly’s bedroom only to literally bump into Ian in the hallway,

“What a rush you’re in,” he said, and placed an arm around her waist, surprising her with his show of affection.

“I couldn’t wait to see you. This is the first time you’ve been home early in weeks.”

Ian cleared his throat, but not a flicker of guilt crossed his face. His days as Captain Hawk had forced him to learn to hide his emotions and made him into an accomplished liar. How else could one account for his escaping capture for so long, for allowing the British to believe he was a loyalist? Bethlyn hated his ability to hide the truth, wishing he’d show some qualm of conscience about Emmie Gray. But it was this very thing which allowed her to swallow her nervousness and show a calm demeanor when he asked her where Molly was.

“In her room,” she said truthfully, not adding that his sister wouldn’t be there for much longer.

“Perhaps I should check on her. I hate for her to hole herself up like a rabbit. It’s time she ends this silliness and takes an interest in life. I know of a fine young man who is clamoring for an introduction to meet her, and I warrant that once she gets into the social whirl, she’ll forget this adolescent crush.”

Ian made a move to grasp the doorknob, but Bethlyn threw her arms around his neck, rubbing her body suggestively against his.

“Do you have something on your mind?” he asked, seeming to forget Molly as he nibbled on her ear.

“Maybe.”

“Something lewd, I trust.”

A shiver of raw desire slid down Bethlyn’s backside when Ian clasped her rounded bottom, bringing her to fit snugly against the bulging spot in his trousers.

“Definitely lewd.” She felt breathless, her senses whirling. “Does this mean that I’m forgiven? I meant only to keep you safe.”

His fingers placed on her lips stopped her words. “I don’t approve, but I understand. I can’t live without loving you; you’ve become a fire in my blood.”

With warm hands and heated eyes, he undressed her when she stood beside the bed in her room. He helped her step out of her chemise, her hair spilling across her naked breasts. The sweet, musky scent of her body caused him to lower his mouth to the swelling globes and feast on the jutting peaks.

Bethlyn moaned. Her fingers threaded through the dark strands of his hair. It seemed that such a long time had passed since Ian had loved her. Her body rekindled with desire for him and the memory of Emmie Gray with Ian faded as a liquid sensation, melting and hot, coursed through every nerve and fiber of her body.

She’d intended to occupy him so Molly could sneak away, but with each possessive kiss, each stirring caress, Bethlyn forgot all about Molly. She needed to be loved fully, ached to be loved until she whimpered in satisfaction against his hard, muscular chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ian whispered, his lips scorching each satiny inch of her breasts and stomach before he knelt in front of her. His tongue began an arousing journey downward to tease and taste the tempting bud of her femininity.

Trembling with need, Bethlyn could barely think, her breath coming in tiny gasps. She clutched at Ian’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the brown velvet material of his jacket to keep her knees from buckling as each flick of his tongue caused golden heat to gather and swirl within her, threatening to singe her very being.

She didn’t think she could survive the mounting pleasure, which was almost painful. “No, Ian, stop,” she pleaded, wanting him inside her, to know that he was completely hers. She tried to move away, but Ian’s hands clamped on her buttocks, bringing her closer, savoring her very essence.

“Enjoy it, Bethlyn,” she heard him whisper. “Enjoy what I’m doing to you.”

A tiny whimper of complete surrender escaped from between her lips. Her body grew fluid, molding against him, eager for his pleasuring. A delicious tension coiled within the womanly part of her, writhing like a serpent.