Taken by You (9 page)

“She did, but one must move on, and I have a feeling Rouge is tiring of this island paradise. There is not enough here to keep her occupied during my long absences. Besides, I intend to return to England soon to give the queen her share of the plunder, and I do not relish bringing a French whore with me. Our agreement when she became my mistress was that either of us could move on whenever we wished with no strings attached.”

Squealing in delight, Rouge reached Morgan. The then working on the beach to unload the
Avenger
of her plunder watched in amusement as the fiery-haired vixen threw herself into their captain’s arms. Dismayed, Luca watched the open display of affection between the woman and Morgan. She seemed to kiss him endlessly, with great affection. His mouth, his cheeks, his throat, wherever her lips could reach. A dull pounding began in Luca’s temples, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the pain. Why didn’t Morgan tell her he had a wife?

“Rouge, take it easy,” Morgan laughed as he tried to defend himself against the onslaught of Rouge’s passion. “This is no place to display your affection. You are providing my then with quite a show.”

“I don’t care,
mom amour,”
Rouge pouted. Her sultry gaze devoured him. “But if it bothers you, come with me to the house. A bed is far more comfortable than hot sand beneath one’s back.”

She sensed Morgan’s distraction and followed his gaze down the shoreline to where a woman clad in a shapeless gray dress stood watching them.

“Who is that woman, Morgan?”

“Come, I’ll introduce you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her across the sand.

Luca was mesmerized by the fiery-haired beauty. Why would he want a drab gray dove when he had a woman like that in his bed? The woman regarded her with hostility, which Luca found puzzling. She could think of no reason for the woman to dislike her.

“Who is this black-eyed witch, Morgan?” Rouge asked. “She looks like a nun. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly found religion.”

“Rouge, meet Sister Luca, recently from a Spanish convent Sister Luca, this is Rouge LeClerc, a … friend of mine.”

“A very
good
friend,” Rouge purred. “But tell me,
mon amour,
what is a nun doing on your island? Dieu,
a Spanish nun, no less.”

“She is my guest. Now, shall we all proceed to the house? I’m sure Sister Luca is anxious for a bath and a comfortable bed.” He flashed Luca an impudent grin. “My bunk offers scant comfort.”

Rouge’s eyes widened in anger, but before she could vent it Crawford drew her away. Luca found herself being guided up the beach by Morgan, whose grip on her elbow was unrelenting.

“The house is several hundred yards through the forest, in a clearing hewn out by my men. I hired Arawaks to build my house, importing all but the lumber from England,” Morgan continued conversationally. “The house isn’t lavish, but you’ll find it comfortable.”

Luca had not yet found her voice. The appearance of the beautiful Rouge had rendered her speechless. She should have known that one woman couldn’t satisfy Morgan. He probably had an entire stable of mistresses scattered in all the ports of the world. Actually, finding a woman residing in Morgan’s home eased Luca’s mind. With Rouge in residence he couldn’t possibly want another woman carnally, which suited her perfectly.

She didn’t want Morgan to think of her in that way.

But Morgan’s possessive hold upon her arm seemed to defy logic. Nothing was simple or straightforward with Captain Morgan Scott.

Entering the coolness of the forest, Luca would have liked to have stopped along the way to examine the various flora and fauna, but Morgan would not allow her to stray from the beaten path along which they walked. Abruptly they came upon a clearing, dominated by a large house built entirely of pine logs. It was two stories high, and a wraparound porch on each level kept out the rain and allowed the windows to remain open to catch the breeze. The windows themselves were made of glass, no doubt imported, and tiles covered the roof. On the whole, the house was quite impressive for a wilderness abode.

They climbed the steps onto the porch and proceeded through the doorway. Luca stood in the foyer, amazed at the coolness that greeted her. They were met by a handsome middle-aged woman with strong Indian features. She was barefoot and dressed in a colorful sarong.

“Welcome home, Captain.” Her smile was genuinely fond.”

“’Tis good to be home, Lani. Has all gone well in my absence?”

“As well as can be expected,” Lani said, sending a somewhat disgruntled glance at Rouge.

“Is your family well?”

“Prospering, Captain, thanks to you.”

“I bring a guest to Timber Ridge, Lani. Please make Sister Luca welcome and see that she is comfortable. Give her the room overlooking the garden. I think she will enjoy that. Her trunk will arrive shortly.”

Luca sent him a startled look. “I have no trunk.”

“I took the liberty of having Senorita Santiago’s trunk removed from the sinking galleon. Surely there is something inside you can wear. Anything at all is an improvement over the gray sack you’ve been wearing.”

“What I’m wearing is the approved dress of my order,” Luca said with a hint of reproof. “I take great pride in my nun’s garb. Those who serve God forsake bright plumage and worldly trappings.”

“Too bad,” Morgan said softly. “They would suit you.”

During this exchange between Luca and Morgan, Rouge had been listening carefully, growing suspicious of the rare tenderness in Morgan’s voice and the way he looked at the little gray mouse. What did he see in her?

Once Lani led Luca off and Stan Crawford sought his own quarters in the large rambling house, Rouge rounded on Morgan.

“What in the hell was that all about? You are no more religious than I, yet you flaunt this little nun like… like you’re planning to seduce her.”

The look on Morgan’s face was enough to convince Rouge that she was right.
“Dieul
That’s exactly what you plan, isn’t it,
mon amour?
Or have you already succeeded?”

Chapter 5

M
organ glared at Rouge. He recalled with alacrity the times he’d returned to Andros and spent amorous days and erotic nights in bed with Rouge, eating and sleeping sporadically. Sporting with the feisty French wench had been fun and satisfying, but suddenly she no longer appealed to him. Their time together had run its course; he was tiring of her, it was as simple as that. And she. could deny it all she wanted, but he knew she was ready to leave the island.

“Well, Morgan,
mon amour,
answer my question. Have you already seduced the woman? She’s a nun! I can’t believe it of you, even knowing your hatred for Spaniards.”

“Looks are often deceiving,” Morgan said, admitting nothing, denying nothing. Rouge was too astute not to realize his ultimate goal.

“What do you mean by that? The girl is a nun, isn’t she?”

“As far as I know,” Morgan said blandly. “And for your information, I haven’t seduced her. I can’t get her off her knees long enough to lift her skirts.”

Rouge laughed lustily. “Ah,
mon amour,
if you want her bad enough you’ll find a way. Come,” her voice grew husky as she grasped his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “I’ve missed you dreadfully. If I have my way we won’t leave the bedroom for a full week. I intend to have my fill of you before you leave again.”

Morgan hung back. “I’ve duties to attend to.”

Rouge sent him a heated glance. “Let Crawford see to them.”

“Crawford is busy. He’ll be leaving the island soon.”

“Alone?”

“No. Not necessarily. I thought you might like to accompany him to Cuba. I’m willing to settle a sum on you that will allow you to live independently for the rest of your life. If you don’t fancy Cuba, you can take a ship from there to France.”

Stung, Rouge reared back, her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’re sending me away?
Dieu!
You’re tossing me aside for a Spanish bitch who claims to be a mm? You’re mad! What has she done to you?”

“Consider it, Rouge,” Morgan said placatingly. “Don’t you think I’ve noticed how restless you’ve grown in the past few months? Admit it. Life is too tame on Andros.”

“Not when you’re here,
mon amour.”
Her voice grew sultry, her eyes dark and luminous. She placed her hands on his chest working their way inside his shirt to tease his nipples. “You’ve always enjoyed what I do to you.”

“I can’t deny it,” Morgan admitted, “but our association has run its course. When you leave with Mr. Crawford, I’ll see that you want for nothing.”

“Bastard!”

“Have you forgotten our agreement? Each of us is free to go our own way whenever we please.”

She hissed her displeasure. “I expected more from you. I expected to go to England to meet your queen. In time… who knows what our relationship would have led to.”

Morgan tensed. “It would have led to nothing.

When I many, if I ever marry, it will be to someone…”
Someone he loved.
“Never mind.”

“If that’s what you want; Morgan,” Rouge said bitterly.

“You’ll not suffer for our relationship. I wish you good luck and Godspeed.” He turned and walked from the room.

Rouge wanted to scream in frustration. She had known from the beginning that nothing permanent would come from her relationship with Morgan Scott, but she’d had high expectations nevertheless. Morgan was filthy rich; she loved that about him. They got along well together in bed. He had never taunted her with it but he knew she had been a whore in her homeland and had left with a ship’s captain who had promised her handsome compensation for warming his bunk during his voyage. A storm had sent the ship aground on Andros, and she had remained as Morgan’s mistress.

Still, she had her youth and her beauty, and if Morgan was as generous as he’d hinted, she’d have wealth, so she couldn’t complain. It had been fun while it lasted. But truth to tell, Morgan was right. Andros was beginning to bore her. Not Morgan, never Morgan, but between homecomings she roamed the island like a caged animal. Even bedding pirates whose ships occasionally anchored in the cove did not cure her restlessness. Yet, it still hurt to be dismissed so casually. She knew instinctively that Luca was to blame. What she didn’t understand was what El Diablo wanted with a drab little Spanish nun.

Luca felt strange in the lovely room assigned to her. All the furnishings had to have come from England, she thought as her appreciative gaze took in the large canopied bed hung with mosquito netting and the ornate furniture polished to a high sheen. She walked to the bank of windows and the double door leading onto the wraparound porch on the upper gallery. The curtains blew inward, admitting a cool ocean breeze. She couldn’t recall such luxury since she’d left her father’s villa at age ten.

Luca’s trunk had been delivered earlier, and she had sorted through it, finding nothing appropriate for a nun to wear. The clothing had been made for Don Eduardo’s daughter. Nothing inside was proper for Sister Luca.

After a long, luxurious bath, Luca washed out her habit and donned a robe she’d retrieved from the trunk. She wrapped her head in a towel and hung the habit over the balcony railing to dry. She was more than ready for a nap and stretched out on the bed to wait for her clothes to dry in the hot sun.

Morgan rapped lightly on Luca’s door. He wanted to ask if she was pleased with her room. When he received no answer he grew alarmed. Fearing she had foolishly tried to find a way off the island, he turned the knob and entered the room. He saw her immediately, sleeping peacefully on the bed. The tub of used bathwater still sat in the center of the room. He wondered what she had done with her clothing; a visual search of the room located the gray habit draped over the balcony railing. The white headcovering was spread out beside it.

Smiling mischievously, Morgan quietly gathered up the drab gray garment and left the room as quietly as he had entered. He carried the offending garments all the way to the kitchen behind the house, where he tossed them into the cooking fire. He waited until they burst into flame before returning to the main house and his own bath.

A loud rapping on the door awoke Luca. Dazed from sleep, she gazed at the unfamiliar surroundings and suddenly remembered where she was. On Morgan’s island, in his house, at his mercy. The rapping continued.