Pleasures of a Tempted Lady (22 page)

Another long pause. “That don’t sound quite safe to me, miss.”

“Well, do you have a better plan? My sister is in that carriage. She’s been kidnapped, and dangerous or not, I must know where they’re taking her.”

“Well, then,” the driver said gruffly. “I’ll stay until such time as I knows you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she said with feeling. “That’s very kind of you.”

They kept going, and Jessica glanced around at the unfamiliar scenery. Here, the houses were gray and drab, with none of the sparkling green and pretty flowers that grew in Mayfair and St. James. The deeper they went into this part of Town, the stronger the ugly smells of sewage and rot became. The pedestrians, too, were dressed in drab, gray, brown, and black, a far cry from the lace, feathers, jewels, and bright fabrics she’d seen just a little while ago in Regent Street.

Then they made another turn, she glimpsed the river to the right, and she sucked in a breath. They were headed toward the docks.

Which ones, though? The London docks were vast, populated by hundreds of ships. Captain Langley kept his ship, the
Freedom
, at St. Katharine’s, the new docks near his offices. She’d been there just a few days ago when she had cajoled Briggs into allowing her to come along when Jonathan had asked to see the
Freedom
.

This didn’t look much like the area of St. Katharine’s Docks, but she couldn’t be too sure. She hadn’t been observing the scenery when they’d driven to the docks that day. She’d been analyzing Briggs’s terrible scar and envisioning the many ways in which he could have obtained it. Perhaps he’d fallen down some stairs as a boy and had landed on a rock on his face. Or maybe, since he was a sailor, he’d encountered a flying fish hook and it had flayed him in the forehead…

They drove for another mile or so, and as the scenery transformed, Jessica twisted her hands and gnawed on her lower lip behind the curtain, peeking out once in a while to make sure they still followed the black lacquered carriage that had taken Serena. She was growing to know the carriage very well at this point; it was no different from any of a thousand others on the London streets, except for the deep, ugly scratch above its rear axle.

Serena’s dress was still there, still dangling from the closed door. She supposed no one had noticed that her sister’s dress had been caught. It was probably the least of Serena’s worries at this point.

Poor Serena, and in her delicate condition…
Jessica tasted blood and forcibly opened her teeth. Her lip certainly had had enough abuse for one day.

“They’ve pulled to the side,” the driver said in a voice so low Jessica hardly heard him.

Jessica glanced up, and sure enough, the carriage had drawn to a halt on the side of the road.

“Pass them, as we planned,” Jessica murmured. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

“Aye, miss.”

She snapped the front curtains closed and sank back in her seat as they passed the carriage that held her sister. When she was sure they’d passed, she asked, “Where are we?”

“Just past the Wapping Dock Stairs.”

She really wished there was a window in the back of the cab. “Can you see them still?” she asked the driver. “Have they got my sister out yet?”

There was a brief pause. “They’s still sittin’ there. A man’s got out of the carriage, but no lady. Miss, we might stop here—ought to be a good place to watch ’em from in secret.”

“Do it.” Jessica made the decision quickly. She didn’t want for him to drive too far from Serena.

The driver directed the horse to the side of the street, and Jessica stuck her head out of the curtain. “Is it safe for me to come out? Do you think they’ll see me?”

“Nay, not if ye stay behind the cab.”

He had already jumped down, and he helped her out, very gentleman-like. She gave him a quick smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then looked over the roof of the carriage. “They be takin’ her out now. And she looks none too pleased about it.”

Jessica flinched. “No doubt,” she murmured. But she didn’t dare look. What if one of the men saw her… or what if Serena did? No, it was better for her to stay out of sight… for now.

“Where are they taking her?”

He looked over the cab roof again, his eyes narrowed. “They’re pulling her along…”
Pause.
“They took her between two buildings. Toward the dock stairs.”

“I have to follow.” Jessica made to go after them, but the driver caught her arm and held her still.

“I’ll be doing it, miss. You just sit tight right here.”

“But…”

“I’ll find where they’re taking ’er.”

“Please,” Jessica whispered, and he slipped around the cab, pulling his hat low as he slunk along. Jessica peeked around the side of the cab and saw him turning toward the river.

She had to follow. She had to know where they were taking Serena. Lifting her skirts, for the cab had parked in muck at least three inches deep, she hurried to where she’d seen the man disappear and turned down a cobbled alleyway that stank of rotten fish and polluted water. At the end, she could see the opening to the dock stairs, but she couldn’t see anyone descending them, nor any boats waiting at the bottom.

The driver reached the end of the alleyway and paused, craning his head around the corner to the right.

She hurried up to him. “What is it?”

He whipped his head around, then frowned down at her. “It ain’t safe for you here.”

“I don’t care.” She wasn’t entirely stupid, though—she did keep her voice down.

He heaved a sigh and moved away from the corner. “Well, go ahead and look, then.”

Cautiously, she moved forward and peeked around the corner.

Serena, flanked by two men holding tightly to her arms, was stumbling down a narrow walkway fronting the river. A sign reading “Wheatsheaf Wharf” in fading letters was nailed to a low post just close enough that Jessica could barely read it.

A ship was tied to the wharf, and as Jessica watched, the two men pushed and pulled her sister onto the ramp leading to the ship’s deck. She nearly lost them among other men and the ship’s rigging, and then they disappeared completely as one of them shoved Serena below.

Jessica swallowed hard and hesitated, her mind working fast. Finally, she turned to the driver. “I must ask you to take me to St. Katharine’s Docks, please. It’s not very far from here, is it?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“Let’s go.” Lifting her skirts again, she sprinted back to the cab.

Chapter Thirteen

T
hat afternoon, John, the coachman, and Benson had taken Thomas and Jake out on the two horses. Both boys found the animals fascinating. Thomas had never had the opportunity to get too close to a horse, though he’d always wanted to, and for Jake, who’d lived his whole life on ships, horses were something new and interesting to fixate on. He was learning everything he could about them, to the point of driving Meg and Will to distraction with all his questions.

Meg stood at the door watching Benson ride the dappled gray mare down the drive. The man had been raised on a farm and was an excellent hand with horses, and he held Jake snugly in front of him, the boy squealing in delight as Benson took the mare from a walk to a trot.

Meg turned and glanced at Will, who was smiling down at her. “I love that sound,” she said. “The sound of him happy. I’ve rarely heard it, you know.”

“It is a good sound,” Will agreed.

The boys and servants turned out of sight. If their pattern held, they wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. Just a few minutes ago, the cook and Molly had headed to Prescot for the second market day since their arrival. The realization struck Meg like an anvil: for the first time since they’d come to Lancashire, she and Will were completely alone.

Her heartbeat quickened. It had been ages since she’d been alone with Will.

He stood behind her, and she felt his presence keenly. Warmth emanated from his body. His hand skimmed her waist, then settled over it in a possessive, firm hold, and she felt the heat of his touch through all the layers of fabric separating his skin from hers.

“Remember how we met?” he asked in a low voice, his breath tickling her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed. “The waltz.”

She turned in his arms, letting the front door swing shut behind her, and he moved one hand from her waist to capture her hand in his own. She closed her eyes, remembering that moment just before the dance had started. Like now, his hand had been firm and warm on her waist. Even though she’d danced a dozen other waltzes with different men, the way he held her—then and now—had been so different from any of the others. He was firm and warm and strong, making her feel very feminine against his innate dark masculinity.

Every inch of her skin tingled in awareness as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Dance with me.”

She gave a small laugh. “We haven’t any music.”

“We’ll make our own.”

And he began to dance. No matter what song one
waltzed to, the music always had a particular rhythm, and Will danced to that rhythm now, taking her on a smooth journey from the entry hall into the parlor, where there was a large enough open space between the sofa and the hearth that they could turn in a wide circle.

And then she began to hear it, too, in her mind. The swell of the notes as they carried over the dance floor. As he spun her in a tight circle, she laughed and gasped, “You’re right. I can hear the music now.”

He looked down into her eyes. “I knew, from the moment we started to dance, that there was something special about you.”

“I knew the same about you. But how can that be? You see someone, you don’t even know them… All you have to do is dance a few steps, and you just…
know
.”

“I don’t think it’s that way with everyone,” he said as they waltzed along the far wall in an arc so they wouldn’t get too near the fire.

“No. Surely it’s not,” she murmured.

He turned her again, and she gripped his solid, strong back so she wouldn’t lose her balance.

The only time she’d danced in the past eight years was in cramped quarters when she’d attempted to teach Sarah the basics of ballroom dance. She hadn’t forgotten how to waltz, though. The oddest thing was, when she danced with him now, she still felt that inexorable pull toward Will that she had on the very first night they’d danced together.

Perhaps their relationship was fated somehow. Or maybe there was something innate inside of each of them that simply fit perfectly with the other.

“Do you like it here? Do you feel safe here?” His voice was a low wash of warmth that made her skin tingle.

“I do, on both counts. Thank you so much for seeing us here safely.”

“I’d do anything for you, Meg.”

She smiled up at him, and for the first time, it wasn’t a tremulous smile. It wasn’t full of questions, doubts, or fears. It was real, whole, and pure. She felt the truth of it in her entire face, and in her eyes. She believed him.

The music was loud in her memory. She remembered what she’d been wearing that night—her blue silk dress Mother had spent the last of the sugarcane harvest money on. Will had looked so strong, so handsome, in his Navy uniform.

His grip on her waist tightened a little, but he slowed his steps and finally stopped. With a gentle hold on her upper arms, he looked down into her eyes.

Her lips went dry, and the breath escaped her lungs as she gazed up at him. Lord, since that night at the inn, she’d missed his kiss. She’d lain awake at night with the memory of it buzzing across her lips.

“Please kiss me, Will.”

Strong arms drew her close, and his lips touched hers and then began to move, at first soft, then deeper, coaxing her to open for him. She slipped her arms around him, pressing against the hardness of his chest.

He kissed her deeply, and she was dragged in, intoxicated by the press of his mouth upon hers, his musky, salty taste.

And for the first time, she believed these touches were meant for
her
. Not because he remembered some dream girl she’d once been. He was kissing Meg: the silent, fearful, distrustful one. He kissed her, warts and all.

Without taking his lips from hers, he lifted her into his
arms. So focused was she on his kiss, on his touch, that she hardly registered that he was climbing the stairs.

He laid her on her bed, lowered himself beside her, and pulled away, finally ending the long, drugging kiss.

She stared up at him, at his glistening lips, as he stroked her cheek and gazed at her. His dark eyes had gone deep with longing, but she didn’t feel threatened. His kiss seemed to have finally finished unraveling everything that had been holding her prisoner.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “so very sorry.”

He seemed genuinely taken aback. “Why?”

“I haven’t been fair to you, Will. I-I’ve been such a coward.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is, though.” She swallowed hard. “I was afraid that you were looking at me and seeing someone else—someone I was long ago and who you wished I could be again. I was afraid that you couldn’t want someone like the person I have become, that no one would want someone like me.”

He trailed a knuckle down her cheek. “You possess all the traits I admire in a woman. You always have, Meg, but the years have drawn them into clearer focus.”

No man had ever made her feel beautiful like Will did. And he meant it—she could hear the sincerity in his voice and see it in his eyes.

“There’s something about you—your gentle voice, the softness in your gray eyes—that draws me in. No one else has ever been able to do that to me. No one has ever made me feel like you make me feel.”

“Not Serena?” she asked, not to lead him, but out of
honest curiosity. After all, she and Meg possessed many of the same physical traits.

He shook his head. “No. Only you.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, and it was so warm, so comforting, that she nuzzled against it. “You gave yourself to me long ago, Meg, and that moment…” His eyes shone down at her. “It was the… most…” He blew out a breath. “It was the most powerful moment of my life. I believe it held deep meaning for both of us. I know now that if it happened again between us, it would hold that same meaning for me, and when you decide you’re ready, it will hold the same meaning for you as well.”