Savannah Heat (20 page)

“There’s nothing much to tell really. I hardly knew her. She died when I was five, birthing my sister.”

Morgan’s eyes honed in on her face. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“I don’t anymore.” Silver glanced down at the dainty embroidered flowers on the white linen tablecloth and traced the pattern with her finger. “Her name was Bethy. She was the sweetest little girl. She died when yellow fever swept the island.”

Morgan lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. “You’ve lost your mother, your sister.… I’m sorry you’ve known so much sadness.”

There was concern in his bright green eyes and warmth in his fingers. That same strong hand had touched her differently last night, she thought, and then wished she hadn’t. After what had happened between them, she should be embarrassed just to be sitting there. Instead she found herself wishing he would make her feel those wondrous sensations again.

“What about you?” she asked. “Jordy said you raised your brother alone. You had no family either.”

“You have family, Silver. You have a father.”

Silver said nothing.

“My brother means a lot to me,” Morgan continued smoothly. “Everything. Brendan’s wild and reckless, a little too hot-tempered at times, but eventually he’ll grow out of it.” He chuckled softly. “As a boy he was full of mischief. He got in a few close scrapes, but mostly he was just full of fun.” Morgan smiled. “He isn’t nearly as serious as his older brother.”

“Sounds like I’d like him.”

Morgan nodded. “Brendan’s intelligent, hardworking, and trustworthy. He’s really a very fine man.”

Just like you
, she found herself thinking. “Jordy says he’s a lieutenant. That he’s stationed in Mexico. Isn’t that where we’re headed?”

Morgan’s brows drew together, and his eyes turned dark. “How do you know about that? Jordy doesn’t know where we’re going—surely Riley didn’t tell you.”

Silver flushed crimson. She could lie, but he’d probably know it. “I read your orders.” She saw his
murderous expression and reached for his arm. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t know you then. I was just trying to survive. I’ve never said a word about it, and I never will.”

Morgan watched her a moment; then the muscles in his arm relaxed. “I should have known.” He looked a bit disgruntled, but his anger had fled. “At this point I don’t suppose it matters. Besides, they’d probably have an easier time breaking Riley.” Silver wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “Come on,” Morgan said.

They drove the buggy down to a white sand beach where the waves lapped softly against the shore. Moonlight traced a path across the water, and a breeze whipped loose strands of Silver’s hair. After taking off her slippers, she turned her back to Morgan, unfastened her garters, and rolled down her stockings. The sand felt warm as it sifted between her toes. The air smelled fresh and clean and salty. Morgan’s hand held hers as he guided her along.

“About last night,” he said, stopping her beneath a towering palm tree and turning her to face him.

Silver held a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I’m not a woman of easy virtue, Major. What happened between us was … unexpected, to say the least. But I’m not sorry.”

“I wish I could tell you I was, but if I did, I’d be lying. I want you, Silver. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Silver slid her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoe to kiss him, tenderly at first, then with building passion. Morgan’s arms went around her, pulling her close. He tasted so very male, felt so incredibly solid and masculine. Heat slid through her at the slick, moist warmth of his tongue, the demanding pressure of his lips. Muscles bunched
across his shoulders as he bent his head to deepen the kiss, and Silver caught the faint aroma of tobacco that had swirled around them at the inn. She laced her fingers through his wavy dark blond hair, leaned into the heat of his body, felt his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom and hold her against him.

Morgan groaned and pulled away.

“What—what’s the matter?” she asked breathlessly.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He captured her fingers against his chest and she could feel his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be leaving soon, Silver. The Brits have been sighted. They’ll arrive sometime in the morning. We’ll transact our business, and the day after that I’ll be gone. I won’t be back until my mission is complete.”

“But I’m going with you.”

“You’re staying here. Owen Moore has agreed to look out for you. There’s a war going on in Mexico—it’s certainly no place for a woman.”

“But you said—”

“I said I’d take you back to Katonga on my return, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. In the meantime, you’ll stay with Lydia. I’ll expect you to keep your word and be here when I get back.”

“But—” Morgan leaned down and kissed her, silencing her protests.

The contact ended far too soon for Silver.

He raked a hand through his hair and looked at her hard. “I’m not about to steal your virtue and abandon you—though right now that’s exactly what I’d like to do.”

“If you were trying to
steal
my virtue, Major, you wouldn’t have a chance.”

“I’m not a marriage-minded man, Silver.”

“Good.”

“Good! What the hell does that mean?”

“Marriage is the last thing I want. Trading one master for another, constantly bending to some man’s will. I want no part of it.”

Surprisingly Morgan looked disgruntled. “Well, what the devil
do
you want?”

“Right now I just want you to kiss me.”

Morgan’s eyes bored into her. He seemed to be waging some inner battle of wills. “You are without a doubt the damnedest—” Grabbing her arm, he tugged her across the sand toward the buggy. “It’s time you went home,” he said through clenched teeth.

Silver didn’t argue. If Morgan didn’t want to kiss her, that was his problem. She had other things to worry about—like finding a way to stow aboard his ship.

Silver discarded the idea almost as quickly as she thought it. The outrageous things she had done before were done out of necessity, a driving need to survive. She’d had to escape from Katonga, and she had done everything in her power to succeed.

But stowing away aboard the
Savannah
, leaving the comfort of the house on Chelsea Road to set off with Morgan Trask for Mexico—that was an idea not worth the time it took to think it.

Dressed in her soft white cotton night rail, Silver sat in front of the mirror above the carved mahogany dresser and began to brush her hair. Morgan had returned her home several hours earlier, and an extremely cool Lady Grayson had greeted them at the door.

“So … the two of you … found each other after all,” she had said.

“Jacques wasn’t ready to end his evening, so I brought Silver home.” Morgan smiled pleasantly.

“Would you like to come in for a brandy?” The way Lydia’s eyes moved over his body said that wasn’t all he would get.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the time. The cargo we’ve been expecting arrives in the morning. I’ve some work to do yet tonight.”

“I see” was all the small woman said.

Silver remembered the gentle farewell she had received from Morgan, the bitter look from Lydia, and shuddered. With Morgan gone, Silver would be forced to spend weeks with Lady Grayson, whose regard for her rested somewhere between hostility and outright disdain. Since Silver’s interference in Lydia’s affair with Morgan, the woman had barely spoken to her.

Aside from that, there was the matter of her father. Those reward posters had been distributed not only on Barbados but throughout the West Indies. Any sailor passing through might have seen one. Silver wasn’t sure her protector, whoever he might be, would be able to watch out for her every minute, and the idea of going back to Katonga was enough to make her insides churn.

That brought to mind another point. Sooner or later Morgan intended to return her to her father. That left two alternatives: She could break her word and run away—which she found herself loath to do, or she could tell him the truth and pray to God he would understand.

At that notion her stomach rolled harder. She couldn’t imagine what Morgan would say to the truth about William Hardwick-Jones. He probably wouldn’t believe it, and even if he did, what would he think? The thought of him looking at her with the repulsion he was sure to feel made Silver’s churning stomach squeeze into a hard, tight ball.

There had to be a way to convince him without revealing her terrible secret. Whatever it was, it was sure to take time.

More than the day’s sail it took to reach Katonga.

Silver finished brushing her hair and plaited it in a long single braid. If stowing aboard the
Savannah
had sounded crazy at first, it was beginning to sound far less so. And there was one more factor in her decision, something she had only begun to suspect but had confirmed tonight on the beach beneath the towering palm tree: Silver was falling in love with Morgan Trask.

He certainly wasn’t in love with her—at least not yet. But she was sure he cared for her. Maybe more than he knew. She didn’t know where such an attraction might lead, but she damned sure wanted time to find out.

By the time Silver settled herself beneath the mosquito netting in her huge four-poster bed and pulled up the covers, her mind had, in its usual way, sorted through the whys and why nots several dozen times, and she had reached a decision.

One way or another, when the
Savannah
left Barbados and set sail for Mexico, Silver Jones would be aboard.

As Morgan had predicted, the British ship
Horatio
pulled into Carlisle Bay the following morning. Morgan met with Captain Bartholomew and Owen Moore, his liaison, and preparations were made to complete the exchange of the
Savannah
’s load of cotton for Barbadian sugar, which in turn would be traded for the
Horatio
’s supply of guns.

The off and unloading progressed without a hitch until a second ship, the small American brigantine
Adversity
, sailed into the bay midafternoon. Morgan was working in his cabin, going over the bills of lading, making final checks on cargo invoices and congratulating
himself on his admirable behavior with Silver the night before.

Of course only part of him was proud of the way he’d behaved—the other part called himself ten kinds of fool.

“Excuse me, Major,” came a resonant voice from outside his open cabin door, interrupting his thoughts, for which he was grateful.

Seeing a tall dark-haired man wearing the same blue uniform Morgan wore—and the bright gold braid of a colonel—Morgan shoved his chair back, came to his feet, and met him at the door.

“Constantine Buckland.” The colonel extended a hand, which Morgan accepted. “Just arrived from Texas aboard the brig
Adversity.
”

“Major Morgan Trask. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d quite agree. However, I’m afraid I’ve brought some very disturbing news.” Buckland’s speech, unaffected by the usual soft southern burr, sounded refined. He was obviously well educated.

“I think you had better come in, Colonel.”

Buckland unconsciously squared his shoulders and stepped into the cabin. He was a big man, not as tall as Morgan, but heavier, a little less well conditioned. He looked to be ten years older, was beginning to gray, but was still a handsome man. He took a chair, and Morgan sat back down at his small oak desk.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” the colonel began. “I’m afraid our troops on the Yucatan have run into trouble. Superior Mexican forces have cut our men down to nothing. Over half of our soldiers have been captured. I regret to inform you that your brother is among them.”

The air seemed to hiss from Morgan’s lungs. “Where are the Mexicans holding them?”

“Somewhere outside Campeche. Both our troopships are anchored nearby, awaiting orders. Your mission is no longer just to carry weapons—somehow we’ve got to find a way to free our men.”

Morgan assimilated the news for a moment. “How many soldiers have you brought?”

Buckland looked uncomfortable. “The
Adversity
is not a troopship, Major, merely a courier. I have ten men in my command and the authority to hire another ten mercenaries, if I can find them.”

Morgan’s jaw clamped, and he surged to his feet, his hands unconsciously balling into fists. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you telling me that the five Texian soldiers who sailed with me and the few men you have are all they’ve sent to break half the Texas forces out of prison?”

“What I’m telling you, Major, is that the rebellion in Mexico is failing. Our troops have suddenly become an embarrassment to the sovereign Republic of Texas. We cannot afford to escalate the size of this incident.”

A muscle bunched in Morgan’s jaw. “This is hog-wash, Colonel. Those men acted in good faith; now you’re abandoning them.”

“It isn’t as bad as it seems. We still have half our troops. With the weapons you’re carrying, we’ve got a very good chance of mounting a successful opposition.”