Dream Lover Part 20

He kissed the corners of her mouth. "I'll keep you safe. Will you come?"

She knew she would follow him to the ends of the earth. The corners of her mouth turned up in a secret smile. "Persuade me."

Sean O'Toole's powers of persuasion were formidable, and not only with women. Before the Half Moon docked in London, the Montague crew, to a man, was secretly in his pay.

Emerald bade her brother a tearful good-bye. "Johnny, I'm worried to death about you. How will you face Father? He will be far more livid over losing the Swallow than losing me."

Johnny kissed her brow. "He never really expected O'Toole to give you back, and as for the ship, he simply underestimated his enemy. It will be an expensive lesson. Don't worry about me, Emerald. I haven't looked after the Montague finances without feathering my own nest."

Suddenly Emerald felt better about her brother's situation. He had come a long way from the boy who was terrorized by his father.

As it turned out, the timing of John's return proved most fortunate for him.

King George had dismissed the Earl of Sandwich from his high post of first lord of the Admiralty because of the irrefutable charges leveled against him. John Montague found his father at his wits' end.

"Thank G.o.d you're back. We're ruined! Thanks to the stupidity of my brother, the lucrative doors of the Admiralty are bolted against us. He's been thrown from office because he had too many enemies who worked for his downfall; and his downfall is ours! The entire Montague family is in disgrace."

"That is simply not true, Father. It is your brother who is in disgrace, not you.

It is your brother who has been dismissed from high office by the king, not you. We will certainly feel the repercussions financially, but it is your brother whom society will censure, not you." John found that he enjoyed manipulating his father with half-truths.

Jack Raymond tried to placate his father-in-law. "My father is the Earl of Sandwich, with friends in high places. He'll land on his feet."

"The son of a b.i.t.c.h likely will! It will be me who suffers financial nun. Get you from my sight. Any man who loses control over his wife doesn't deserve house room!"

"Father, sit down before you have a stroke," John ordered. "The loss of Admiralty business will give us more time and resources to invest in our own merchant vessels. You don't need your brother, Sandwich, or his great friend, the Duke of Bedford. The Montague Line will be your salvation. Shipping is a lucrative business. I think we should expand." John decided not to mention the loss of the Swallow, just yet. The old man would learn of it soon enough.

He masked the satisfaction he felt with a look of regret. "I'm afraid O'Toole refuses to return Emma. Still, look on the bright side; think of all the money that saves you."

Sean left Emerald in a suite at the Savoy Hotel while he went into the city to attend to banking and business matters. When he returned that evening, he had a surprise for her.

"But I hate London houses," she protested, "they are ugly and gloomy."

Silently she added, You won't like it either. It's like being shut up without air or light.

He took her hands in his. "Trust me. Come and look at it." He dipped his head to steal a kiss. "Do you want me to persuade you?"

"Yes, please," she murmured, opening her mouth for his ravishing.

The elegant town house in Old Park Lane was the ant.i.thesis of the mausoleum where Emerald had grown up. It was a tall house whose front windows overlooked the Serpentine and Rotten Row, while the windows at the back gave an unhindered view of the spectacular flower gardens in Green Park. The rooms were freshly decorated in pale green and white with elegant French furnishings.

"I'm only leasing it, and it comes complete with servants," Sean explained.

Emerald needed no more persuading; she fell in love with the house on sight, but looked askance at the very masculine male she adored. "Will you be comfortable here?"

"Are you insinuating I am nothing bur a bogtrotter?"

She gave him a saucy glance. "Well, we could get a pig and a couple of hens, if it would make you happy."

He pulled her back against him and tubbed his arousal against her b.u.m. "You know what makes me happy."

"Are you always in that condition?"

"And a d.a.m.n good thing I am, since you're insatiable, my beauty."

"Aren't we lucky to have found each other?" she asked happily.

They moved in the next day and the earl gathered the servants to instruct them. His requirements were exacting. He freely admitted to being fanatic about personal linen, table linen, and bed linen. Hot water must be available at all times so they could bathe at any hour of the day or night, and the food was to be prepared by a master chef who would be arriving later in the day.

Over and above all was the single most important rule. His lady and her ident.i.ty must be protected at all times. He had a great deal of business to attend to in the city, and while he was absent no one was to be admitted into the house without the earl's express permission.

Later in the day the earl himself brought back two visitors, one a wigmaker, the other a jeweler. "The styles in London have become preposterous. You will need a powdered wig adorned with ostrich feathers to attend even the theater."

"Oh, I know! I've been watching them parade about in the park. They are all powder, patches, and lace, and those are just the gentlemen!" she said, laughing.

While Emerald was fitted for her wigs, Sean viewed the pieces the jeweler had brought. He had no trouble selecting a necklace ablaze with diamonds. It would be spectacular with her crimson velvet, and when they were back in Ireland, where she could wear her own glorious dark hair, it would look even better. He pictured her in nothing but the diamonds and decided to wait until bedtime to give her his gift.

"We are invited to a great celebration the Duke of Newcastle is throwing tomorrow night."

Her eyes widened. "However do you know the duke?" "I made a point of cultivating his friendship when I discovered we had enemies in common."

"You mean the Montagues?"

"In a roundabout fashion. Newcastle is so elated at the success of his sabotage campaign against Sandwich that he's throwing a victory hall to celebrate."

Emerald shuddered. "My uncle is a dreadful man. What happened?"

"The king dismissed him from the Admiralty," Sean said lightly.

Emerald was shocked. The Earls of Sandwich had ruled the Admiralty since the days of King Charles II. She looked at Sean with speculative eyes. How in the name of heaven had he maneuvered her uncle's downfall? She had no doubt it was his fine hand that had manipulated events. She understood his need for revenge. He had been scarred by the Montagues, both on the outside and the inside. His invisible scars could not heal until he had wreaked his vengeance.

"Won't they shoot a Montague on sight?" she asked in the same light tone he had used.

"You will be completely anonymous in your wig and mask," he promised.

It didn't take Emerald long to learn that Sean had lied. Two liveried footmen stood sentry at the entrance to the glittering ballroom, one to take the ladies' wraps, the other to announce the names of the guests. Sean handed her satin-lined cape to the footman and gave only his name.

"The Earl of Kildare."

Sean took her arm as they stepped into the ballroom. Every eye was focused upon them and a loud gasp could be heard, followed by a moment of silence.

Emerald thought it was their clothes that had occasioned the gasps. In her red velvet with diamonds blazing at her throat she stood out vividly from the ladies in pastel satin and pearls, and Sean was the only man wearing black.

When their hostess, the d.u.c.h.ess of Newcastle, came forward to greet them, Emerald was quickly disabused of the notion.

"How very droll that Montague's niece is here to celebrate his downfall."

"How did you learn my ident.i.ty, Your Grace?" Emerald asked woodenly.

The d.u.c.h.ess cast Sean a provocative glance. "My dear, Kildare and I are very intimate."

Emerald's eyes glittered beneath her mask. She was furious that Sean had deceived her into thinking her ident.i.ty would he unknown.

She was also jealous of his relationship with the d.u.c.h.ess of Newcastle, though she'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let the woman know it. Suddenly she laughed and tapped him with her fan. "So it's true, you sly devil, you are attracted to older women."

The d.u.c.h.ess went stiff. As Sean drew her hand to his lips for a perfunctory kiss, he was suffused with admiration for his delightful partner. She was a match for this promiscuous Englishwoman, and he was willing to wager she could hold her own against anyone present.

When Newcastle greeted them, Emerald threw Sean a challenging look and went off on the duke's arm. For the rest of the evening she received the lion's share of attention from the males present. It didn't matter to them whose niece or daughter she was, they appreciated her for her beauty and for the aura of s.e.xuality she exuded.

To a man they envied her present lover. If she satisfied a dangerous devil like Kildare, she must be rewarding in bed. She was astounded to receive three offers of carte blanche, should she tire of her present lover. Emerald fended off amorous advances with an amused laugh, though she felt no such thing.

It dawned upon her that all London must know she had abandoned her newly wedded husband to become the Earl of Kildare's mistress. It also dawned upon her that Sean O'Toole was purposely flaunting her in the face of society. How naive she was. She knew he had stolen her to spite the Montagues, but that wasn't enough. He wanted the whole d.a.m.n world to know what he had done!

Though the women's eyes followed him in open invitation, Emerald noticed that he did not flirt. He spent the evening discussing business affairs with men of power and influence. She almost wished it were otherwise. She could have contended with another woman. But how could she compete with this dark, driving need for vengeance?

She drank far too many gla.s.ses of champagne as she listened to the latest scandals. The so-called English ton fed upon itself, then, engorged with gossip, spewed forth filth to besmirch everyone. Only a few short hours in such vaunted company made her feel cynical and brittle.

Sean, engrossed in his conversation with Newcastle, was blissfully unaware of Emerald's mood.

"I believe it was the scandal of the slavers that did the trick. That, coupled with the proof you supplied of bribery and treason. It was suggested, strictly off the record, of course, that the government would be in your debt if you could do something about those embarra.s.sing ships."

Sean's smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Your Grace, I have antic.i.p.ated you."

At last Sean came to retrieve Emerald from her dancing partner and indicated that he was ready to leave. When they reached the ballroom doors, she turned to survey the crowded floor. Then very deliberately she removed the velvet mask and tossed it into the air. A group of men standing nearby eagerly scrambled for it.

With a grim look on his dark face and a firm hand at the small of her back, Sean pushed her through the doorway. His brow lowered and his jaw clenched as he retrieved her cloak and wrapped it firmly about her naked shoulders and half-exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "What the h.e.l.l was that all about?" he demanded as they emerged from the palatial house on Piccadilly. "You were acting like a little wh.o.r.e,"

he ground out.

"But, Sean, darling, that's exactly what I am," she said sweetly, "your wh.o.r.e.

And you have made sure all London knows what I am."

"Get in the carriage." His tone warned her just how furious he was.

Emerald ignored the warning. "Would you like me on my hands and knees, my lord, so I can service you here in the carriage?"

He gripped her shoulders and shook her till her teeth rattled. "Stop it this instant. You are driving me to violence."

"I am aware of your violent nature, my lord. Perhaps I can match it! Come on, I'm licking my lips over you," she taunted.

He forced her down on the seat and crushed her mouth with his, mastering her. Only Emerald wouldn't be mastered, not without giving as good as she got. She bit down on his lip and raked the side of his face with her nails.

He flung away from her. "Little b.i.t.c.h!" he cursed.

As she had promised, she licked her lips over him and tasted his blood.

They entered the May fair house in silence. Emerald ran up two flights to their s.p.a.cious bedchamber. She dismissed the maid who had waited up for her. Her anger at him did not cool, rather it grew hotter by the minute. She had thought the diamonds a gift of love; now she knew he wanted to flaunt her and the diamonds in the face of the English. Though the hour was late she decided the evening was not quite over; the fireworks hadn't yet started.

Sean lingered in the salon, trying to cool his temper with a snifter of French brandy. By the time he finished it, he felt in full control. He slowly mounted the stairs, and when he entered the bedchamber he was almost ready to forgive her.

She deliberately turned her back upon him.

He felt his control slip a notch.

She had removed the ostrich-feathered wig, but still wore her gown and her diamonds. Completely ignoring him, she unfastened the crimson velvet and stepped out of it. Naked, save for lace stockings and diamonds, she sat down at the dressing table and picked up her hairbrush.

Emerald knew his dark eyes were riveted upon her. She bent her head forward, allowing her hair to almost touch the carpet, brushed it vigorously, then tossed it back so that it fell in a smoky cloud about her shoulders. With hairbrush still in hand she padded over to the bed with feline grace to retrieve her night rail from beneath the pillow. It was a flame-colored diaphanous garment designed to give a man pleasure. She made no effort to put it on, but took it back to the dressing table with her and draped it across the stool. Then she made a display of admiring herself in the mirror. She tossed her curls and drew the brush through them one more time, then very deliberately she brushed the black curls between her legs.

"What the h.e.l.l game is this you are playing?" he growled.

She dropped the hairbrush and with hands on naked hips walked provocatively toward him. "A harlot's game. Isn't that what you want? I was just admiring the diamonds one last time before I give them hack."

"The diamonds are yours," he ground out.

"Oh, I don't think so. They are your property, just as I am. We are both for display purposes only."

"Stop this game now," he said with quiet authority. He knew if he didn't hang on to the last of his control, he would throw her to the floor and mount her. l.u.s.t now mingled with his anger, and l.u.s.t was rapidly gaining the upper hand.

"When you gave me the diamonds last night in bed, I didn't realize the significance. I had no idea I was paying for them with s.e.xual favors. Perhaps last night was only the down payment?" She knew she was deliberately goading him, as did Sean. She wanted to exercise her woman's power over him, to see if she could shatter his control into a million shards.

He reached out with powerful hands and jerked her against him. "If you want fireworks, I'll start with skyrockets."

She fought him like a spitting cat, enjoying every blazing moment. They were a perfect match, each driving the other to madness. In the end they both surrendered.

Sean gave in because he was physically stronger and didn't want to hurt her. Emerald yielded because she didn't want to maul his pride. In the end it was his tenderness that melted her anger toward him. His loving affection for her was boundless and showed her just how much she meant to him.

Much later, as she lay cradled in his arms, they both whispered love words.

"My honey love, I did want to show you off, but I swear it was your Irish beauty I wanted to flaunt in the face of so many raddled Englishwomen. You never have to wear the necklace in public again, but you must keep it. You have no money of your own and it will give you some financial security."

"My darling, you are all the security I'll ever need."

He pressed her to his heart. "Promise me you'll keep it?"

"I promise," she whispered. "Let's not accept any more social invitations. I heard enough gossip tonight to last me a lifetime. I don't give a d.a.m.n that the Duke of Devonshire has impregnated his wife, Georgiana, and his mistress, Elizabeth Foster, at the same time. I want to go home."

"Only a few days longer, sweetheart. I have merchant ships docked here in London. I must speak with my captains before we leave. Tonight I'll show you London's pleasure gardens. Just the two of us. Have you ever been to Vauxhall or Ranelagh?"

"Of course not. I never did anything sinful or worldly."

"Until I stole you," he whispered.

She laughed seductively. "Now I sin on a regular basis." She slid a silken knee between his rock-hard thighs. "You taught me to be wild and wicked and to never say no!"