Man Of My Dreams: Secrets Of Midnight Part 24

"I thanked him kindly an' turned down his money. You're like family to me after all, but oh, ais, he's worried just the same as you-"

"All right, all right!" Corisande left him, not because she wanted to join Donovan but because she'd had quite enough of Oliver's lecturing. There wasn't anything left to see anyway; the lights of Porthleven were already swallowed up by darkness as the Fair Betty headed out of Mount's Bay and southward into the Channel on a journey that would get them to the Brittany port well before dawn.

Yet as she stormed below deck, she swore she could hear a faint chuckle trailing after her. Her face growing red, she burst into Oliver's cabin, coming up short at the sight of Donovan sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, one arm resting on a raised knee and a near-empty gla.s.s of rum in his hand.

"Ah, so gracious of you to join me finally, wife."

As much stung as startled by his sarcasm-she hadn't heard it in days-Corisande wondered nervously if she should maybe leave the door open. But Donovan took that decision out of her hands as he rose and came toward her. Corisande sidestepped him and then whirled around with a gasp as he slammed the door shut.

Yet when he turned upon her, his expression to her surprise wasn't angry or sarcastic, just very serious. That unnerved her even more than she would have thought, and she edged backward, coming up with a start against the bed.

"Sit down."

She did, his low voice brooking no argument, although she bristled, glaring at him. He seemed not to notice, moving to Oliver's mahogany desk to pour himself another gla.s.s of rum; the ship's rolling motion apparently wasn't bothering him either, for he stood so squarely, his lean, muscled legs planted so firmly, that he looked as if he had been born to the sea.

"Captain Trelawny has done quite well for himself-I've seen few cabins so well appointed. A crystal decanter, gla.s.ses, bra.s.s fittings, polished wood-"

"Yes, he's done well, and I'm grateful it wasn't all lost to him today, no thanks to you."

Corisande heard the glancing ring of the decanter hitting a gla.s.s, but Donovan didn't look at her although she could see that he had visibly tensed. He seemed so tense that she began to feel quite unsettled again; the cabin suddenly felt quite small and close around her as she quickly sought to change the subject.

"Were things very bad at the mine? The flooding?"

"Bad enough, but the pumps did the job. Do you want some rum?"

As Donovan's brusque voice sent nervous chills plummeting down her spine, she gave a slight shake of her head. "No, no, thank you." But now her heart began to pound fiercely when he finally turned from the desk, his eyes jet-black in the lamplight and trained full upon her.

"Henry Gilbert is well, too, in case you were wondering. A bit shaken from having a pistol pointed at his gut, but he'll live. You never cease to amaze me, Corie-"

"So you've often said."

The biting words were out before she had even realized she'd spoken them and she wished she hadn't when a look of such pain crossed Donovan's face that she felt it almost as strongly as if it were her own. And what his pain could mean, ah, Lord, she didn't even want to think of it!

With a strangled cry, she flew across the cabin to the door, but Donovan was already there, catching her in his arms and hauling her against him. She struggled wildly but in vain, even in her desperation her strength no match for his. Within an instant he had pinned her flailing arms behind her with one hand, his other thrust through her hair to pull her head back to face him, holding her so tightly her scalp stung.

"We're going to talk, Corie, now, here, and have this thing out!"

"No, I've nothing to say to you!" she cried, her only escape to sink deeper and deeper into lies. "You're an informer and I despise you! I don't know why you're here-my sisters' welfare has nothing to do with you! What do you care if they come to harm? Why put yourself in danger? Once you have your b.l.o.o.d.y inheritance, you'll be gone from our lives forever!"

"I've already won my inheritance, woman, and I've not left you! G.o.d help me, I've not left you!"

Chapter 35.

Corisande went still, staring into Donovan's anguished eyes.

"As for your sisters, I know what it's like to have someone you love taken from you. I've a young daughter, Corie, only two years old, and I don't know if she's alive or dead! I've been searching for Paloma for months-her mother, Nina, was murdered by French troops, and I was so far away fighting near Madrid that it was weeks before I found out. By the time I returned to the village where they'd lived, a nursemaid had long since taken my daughter and fled. No one could tell me where. That's why I needed my inheritance! If not for Paloma, I would have told Nigel to h.e.l.l with my father's will. But I couldn't. I needed the money-"

"Needed the money . . ." Corisande echoed in a whisper, stunned by everything he'd just told her.

"Yes, to pay the men I hired at the start to help me search. They'd risked their lives time and again to cross enemy lines with me, and I couldn't reward them generously enough. Yet it didn't take long for what money I had to be gone."

"So that's why you tricked me into marrying you," she said almost under her breath as Donovan looked at her in confusion. "I overheard you talking with Morton Robberts -you were already going to help the tinners, you'd already fired Jack Pascoe, and then I came along looking for Henry-"

"Would you have helped me if I'd told you the truth, given who I was, given what you thought of me? I doubted you'd believe anything I said-maybe still don't believe . . ."

His embrace had tightened once more, though he'd loosed his fingers from her hair to cradle her face, his thumb softly stroking her cheek. "Corie, I didn't tell you that Nigel had brought word of my inheritance because I didn't want you to leave me-especially when you were in such danger. I wanted more time to try to find out who was attacking you. And this morning-"

"This morning your true nature came through!" Corisande cut him off, desperately trying to close her ears and her heart to what she sensed he was about to say. "You're right! I don't believe anything you- Oh!"

Donovan had jerked her against him so abruptly that she felt she couldn't breathe. He held her so tight, his dark eyes burning into hers. "No, I think you do believe me, Corie. Just as you believed me last night when I said I wouldn't hurt you, when I asked that you trust me. If you hadn't, you wouldn't have let me touch you, you wouldn't have given yourself to me so completely, wouldn't have kissed me as you did-"

"And I told you that you seduced me!"

"Seduced, woman? Am I seducing you now?"

She gasped as his mouth captured hers, his kiss so wildly possessive, so hot, so hungry that she felt herself rise on tiptoes to be closer to him, her hands suddenly clutching at his shirt.

"Am I enticing you against your will, Corie?" she heard him demand raggedly against her lips just before his tongue plunged into her mouth, his deepening kiss arousing a response in her that was nothing less than carnal, her own tongue swirling and playing with his. She heard him groan, felt him dragging her skirt above her thighs and lifting her, then suddenly she was the one with her back to the door, her legs hoisted around his waist.

"Tell me you want me to stop," Donovan taunted her as he kissed her eyelids, her lips, her throat, his rum-scented breath like a scorching heat upon her skin. "If I'm seducing you, tell me you want me to stop!"

His lips found hers at the same moment she felt his fingers slide into her body, and when he pressed against that soft aching place with his palm, she gave no more thought to making him stop than even remembering what he had said. Suddenly it was just Donovan kissing her and his fingers moving inside her, slipping out only to enter again while she began to moan brokenly against his lips.

But he silenced her cries, filling her mouth with his tongue as he withdrew his fingers to fill her with his body-not slowly but fiercely, Corisande gripping at his ma.s.sive shoulders as he thrust deep, deep inside her. She began to shake and writhe against him, her release coming as fast and as furiously as a wave crashing over her head, and she was drowning in the wildness of it, the incredible wonder of it, her blood surging in her ears.

From some distant place she felt Donovan crush her against him, felt his body quake and shudder and then collapse against her, but she had no fear that she would fall. He held her as close to him as if they were one, so close that she could feel his heart pounding against her breast . . . then gradually it slowed, long moments pa.s.sing before she had the strength to lift her head from his shoulder.

And when she did, Donovan was staring into her eyes as he eased his body from hers, his hand going between them to his breeches as her dress fell back around her ankles. Yet still he kept her backed up firmly against the door, their bodies still pressed so closely together that she could feel the heat of him through her clothes. But that couldn't match the heat in his eyes, not carnal, but something so much deeper burning there.

"I love you, Corie. I didn't want to, I fought it-G.o.d knows I never wanted marriage, never wanted a wife. But I love you! I've never said that to any woman before."

"Not even the one who gave you a child?"

Corisande scarcely realized she'd asked him such a thing before Donovan was shaking his head, his voice almost a whisper.

"Nina was my mistress for a time, but she didn't love me, or I her. I'm holding the only woman I've ever loved and all I ask from you, Corie, is that you tell me you believe me. It would be enough . . . for now. Please tell me that you believe me."

She believed, ah, she believed-could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in how he held her. Just as she felt a terrible anguish welling inside her, too, ice-cold fear swallowing her joy. He had a daughter, and he would surely go back to Spain to find her, which was only right, but behind enemy lines-he had said so! And if she gave herself over to him now and something should happen-oh, G.o.d . . .

"No, no, you ask too much of me!" she cried out hoa.r.s.ely, pushing against him, trying to wrest herself free. "I-I can't give you what you want! I could never give you what you want! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please let me go! Please!"

She nearly fell when Donovan suddenly moved away from her, her eyes so blinded with tears as she clutched wildly at the wall to regain her balance that she didn't see him open the door. But she heard it slam and she knew she was alone.

Wretchedly, utterly alone.

"Ais, now, the tavern where that b.a.s.t.a.r.d said 'ee could leave word for him is straight down the dock. The White Hart, isn't that what the letter said, my lord?"

Donovan nodded, while Oliver tugged worriedly at his beard.

"Lord, I want to have me an' my men come with 'ee, I don't like that the two of 'ee are going there alone, but I can't help thinking if the man sees the whole lot of us, he might panic an' do G.o.d knows what-"

"I agree, it's best this way," Donovan interrupted, anxious to be on their way. It was still a few hours before dawn, but the dock was already coming to life, and they were on French soil. The only good thing was that Roscoff was a well-known smuggling port, and their arrival had caused little stir; two dozen or more ships of all sizes lay berthed along the wharf.

Most of them were probably English, Donovan thought darkly with a glance in Corisande's direction. She wasn't looking at him but at Oliver as the captain made her lift her hood over her hair.

"There's nothing down here but wh.o.r.es an' tavern wenches, an' I'll not have 'ee drawing attention to yourself with that pretty auburn hair, Corie. Now stay good and close to your husband."

Stay good and close? Donovan swallowed hard at Oliver's low command but steeled himself grimly against thinking about anything other than the task that lay ahead. Yet it was almost impossible when Corisande moved next to him, though she'd remained silent. He hadn't heard her speak at all since last- h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation, enough!

"We'll be waiting here if you've need of us," Oliver said to him, thankfully distracting Donovan's thoughts. "One shot into the air an' we'll come a-running to help, my lord, our pistols at the ready."

Donovan nodded again, ensuring that his own pistol was tucked securely in his belt and yet hidden under his coat. Oliver Trelawny left them and headed back to the large rowboat where ten of his crew sat silent and armed, the Fair Betty anch.o.r.ed farther out in the harbor. Which left Donovan and Corisande standing alone on the wharf, well, not fully alone as a bedraggled pair of sailors reeled drunkenly past them, one of the men casting a bleary-eyed glance at Corisande.

"Stay close." Donovan repeated Oliver's order, his voice harsh. But maybe then she would heed him with their b.l.o.o.d.y lives at stake. "Remember, Corie, under no circ.u.mstances do you hand over that chest until we know your sisters are safe-if we end up having to hand it over at all. It's the only thing we have to guarantee we're going to make it back in one piece to the ship. Do you understand?"

Corisande felt stung that he had spoken so gruffly to her, but what had she expected? She gave him a small nod, gripping the wooden chest under her arm as he set off at such a hard pace that she had to hurry to keep up with him, despite her long legs.

He must be angry, he must be . . . Ah, but she couldn't think right now about how angry Donovan must be, how deeply hurt-she had no idea where he'd spent the night while she'd hardly slept at all in Oliver's cabin. Anxiously she wondered if her sisters might be bound and gagged and held captive in any one of these shabby two-story buildings flanking the harbor. And the few sputtering lanterns hanging here and there did little to dispel the wharf s sinister look.

She could hear voices and raucous laughter, shrill female laughter, too, spilling out onto the dock from the several lighted taverns they pa.s.sed, which ill.u.s.trated fully that Roscoff was a place that never grew quiet. She jumped when a sailor suddenly careened out of a door to fall to his knees in the adjoining alley and start retching; she moved closer to Donovan when a trio of men followed after him, laughing and jeering.

"I-I don't like this place."

Donovan didn't respond, but Corisande could see that his hand had moved under his coat to his pistol, which gave her some comfort. Yet she felt nothing but an icy chill slice down her spine when a voice suddenly carried to them from the shadows, a harsh accented voice that she knew so well.

"Ah, madame, monsieur, you've come to Roscoff and so quickly. I saw the ship enter the harbor and wondered perhaps if it might be you."

She spun, but Donovan caught her arm, demanding in a sharp whisper, "Do what I say. Do nothing but what I say."

"And I say you both move over here where we will talk," the voice barked in a low command.

Corisande saw that Louis, the Marquis de LaCroix, had stepped farther into a dark alley next to a tavern bearing in English the name The White Hart, no doubt for the benefit of its smuggler patrons.

"No, we'll talk out here on the dock," Donovan answered for them, but Corisande was suddenly overwhelmed by such fury and outrage at what that b.a.s.t.a.r.d had done to terrorize her and her family that she couldn't restrain herself.

"Yes, out here in the light, and we'll not say a word to you until we see that my sisters are safe! You fiend! Coward! I've the jewelry, de LaCroix, do you hear me? We found the chest, and I swear you won't see a single pearl until I know my sisters are safe-"

"Good G.o.d, woman, will you wake the entire port?"

Donovan had seized her arm and drawn her back against him, but Corisande gave him little heed as she saw Louis moving out of the shadows toward them, her vehement outburst clearly having worked. He was not as big as Donovan but powerfully built, his moustached face hardened with bitterness and- Oh, Lord. She stiffened in fear when she saw that Louis held a pistol leveled right at Donovan's chest. Suddenly she wished desperately that she had kept silent.

"Oui, madame, you resemble my father's wh.o.r.e Veronique, and for that alone I could have killed you. But now I see it was wise for me to let you live. Keep very still, madame, and you" -the marquis shifted his glittering gaze to Donovan- "draw your hand away from your weapon. Good, now raise both your hands slowly . . ."

Louis suddenly gave a low whistle and his two compatriots rushed from the alley, one wresting Donovan's pistol from his hand while the other reached out to grab the chest from beneath Corisande's arm. But all she could think of was her sisters and how Donovan had said the jewelry was their only guarantee; with a fierce cry, she swung her fist with all her might and cracked her attacker in the face before fleeing to the edge of the dock, her breath tearing from her lungs as she ripped open the lid and held the chest out over the water.

"No, I will see my sisters! Bring them out here at once, or I'll empty this whole thing into the sea!"

Corisande saw Louis's eyes flare, his face stricken with rage, his pistol still pointed so ominously at Donovan that she began to pray, hard. But in the next instant, immense relief swept through her as the marquis nodded to his men.

"Go. Do as she says."

They disappeared at once into the alley, and she saw light spilling from a door near the back of the building, but she wasn't through with Louis yet, oh, no. "Hand your pistol over to my husband. Now!"

The marquis stared at her as if she were insane, but when she plunged her hand into the chest and pulled out a brilliant diamond necklace, throwing back her arm to fling it out into the darkness of the sea, he lowered his pistol, and Donovan was there in an instant to take it from him.

"Good G.o.d, Corie . . ." was all she heard him say before muted weeping carried to them from the alley. The pitiful sound grew louder as Louis's two accomplices brought forth her sisters half stumbling in their dirty, crumpled nightgowns-Marguerite, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, carrying Estelle who had her arms flung around her older sister's neck, while Linette trailed behind, clutching Marguerite's sleeve.

"Tell your men to stand away from my sisters and toss away their weapons!" Again Corisande held out the necklace, and Louis, his face gone chalk-white from fury, could do naught but comply.

"Do as she says!"

Donovan felt his heart lurch when he saw that Corisande was teetering perilously close to the edge of the dock, but he forced himself to focus upon the three dangerous men in front of him, retrieving his own pistol as weapons were dropped and hurling the rest with a low curse into the sea. Then he beckoned to Marguerite, who was trembling from head to foot as she glanced from him to Corisande. All three girls were clearly so terrified that they hadn't budged an inch.

"Marguerite, listen to me," he said to her firmly, her wide, frightened eyes jumping to his. "Take Linette's hand, that's right, now come over here and stand behind me. Everything's going to be fine. Everything's-"

"Donovan!"

Corisande's cry split the night, but he saw the danger too late. Louis had pulled a knife from the back of his belt and grabbed Linette by the hair to yank her against him before there was anything Donovan or Corisande could do.

"Oui, put the chest down on the dock, madame, or the girl dies, do not doubt me!"

Chapter 36.

As Linette burst into terrified tears, the long knife blade pressed to her throat, Corisande was so stunned she simply stood there, frozen.

"I said put the chest down in front of you! Maintenant!"

She obeyed him, shaking so violently as she returned the diamond necklace and closed the lid that she feared her knees might give way when she set the chest upon the dock with a loud thunk. But when she straightened she froze again, her eyes widening to see a man wearing only breeches creep up behind Louis, creep up so silently that no one was aware of him, not even Donovan, as everyone focused their attention on her . . . until the c.o.c.k of a pistol made her jump, the weapon suddenly pressed to Louis's temple.

"Harm the girl, man, and you die."

As Louis swore vehemently, everyone else now stared at the handsome dark-blond stranger, who appeared nearly as tall and strapping as Donovan, and at the other men who suddenly emerged from the shadows with wicked-looking cutla.s.ses and pistols drawn. Corisande's gaze flew to Linette, her heart thudding painfully in her throat. Dear G.o.d, why wasn't Louis dropping the knife? Why wasn't he- She gasped as an enraged bellow rent the air. Louis had shoved Linette away from him and was lunging straight for her, straight for the chest-at the same moment Donovan dove for Louis and both men crashed to the dock amidst the high-pitched screams of her sisters. Suddenly everything was confusion, Corisande crying out, too, when she saw Louis raise his knife in the air to strike.

"Donovan! Oh, G.o.d, Donovan!"