"Furthermore, we may find Miss Challoner tomorrow, which will mean an abrupt end to ever seeing him again."

A flicker of sadness crossed her reflected face.

"Exactly. So, what are you going to do about it?"

There was only one thing she could do. She spun around and removed a chemise and her blue morning gown from her trunk. She quickly changed, loosely pinned her damp hair up, and stuffed her feet into a pair of blue kid half boots. Then she grabbed her cloak and opened the door, slinging her cloak over her shoulders.

As she turned around to lock the door, a large, warm hand took the key.

She knew who it was the second his skin touched hers. Holding her breath, she turned. "William. What are you doing here?"

A letter from William Hurst to his brother Michael, written from the deck of the Agile Witch.

The new information Miss Smythe-Haughton has brought to light about our famous family amulet is most intriguing. I am eager to know what you discover once the papyrus has been translated.

Still, I'm sure it won't intrigue me as much as it will you. Over the last six months, you've been writing more and more about your search for the family amulet and less and less about your other endeavors-the ones that pay your bills and add to your fame as an adventurer. While it's admirable that you wish to return the amulet to our family coffers, you should be cautious not to lose sight of your real purpose, which is to continue adding to your collections. I speak from experience when I say that it's a sad day when you forget your purpose in life. I once was distracted from mine and I rue it to this very day.

CHAPTER 15.

William looked into Marcail's violet eyes. He had just been asking himself the same question. He'd made it all the way to the stables before he'd realized that the last place he wanted to be was somewhere Marcail wasn't. He wasn't sure why he'd allowed her to dismiss him, and it annoyed the h.e.l.l out of him that he had.

What was it about her that turned his thinking so inside out? Whatever it was, he decided then and there to put a stop to it.

He'd just reached her door when he heard the key turn in the lock. He'd stepped quickly out of the way and watched as she came out, her skin flushed, her hair loosely piled upon her head, and smelling faintly of lavender.

Until that moment, William hadn't had a plan of any sort; he'd just wanted to be with her. But the second he saw her blinking up at him in surprise, her long lashes casting shadows over her violet eyes, he knew what he wanted.

He pulled her into her room and locked the door behind them. Then he took off his greatcoat, tossed it over the chair, and loosened his cravat.

Her eyes widened, but she made no move to unlock the door or kick him out. That's promising. He removed his outer coat and undid his waistcoat. "Aren't you going to undress, too? It won't be as much fun alone."

Her lips curved into a smile. "I don't know," she said primly, but her hands strayed to her laces as if she were tempted.

He hid a smile, took a chair by the fire, and removed his boots, placing them on the hearth. "I have a motto where lovemaking is concerned."

"Let me guess: 'Often and fervently.'"

He chuckled. "No, but that one would do." He stood and tossed aside his waistcoat and cravat, then tugged his shirt over his head.

Her gaze locked on his chest.

"My motto is 'Before l.u.s.t goes happiness.' So if this makes us happy, why not?"

She'd managed to undo her ties, but she made no move to tug the laces free.

He slipped his breeches off and tossed them over the chair with his other clothing.

Her gaze traveled slowly down from his shoulders to his stomach to his already bestirred c.o.c.k. Her eyes widened before she continued her perusal down his thighs and all the way to the floor.

"If you wish me to leave, you have only to say so and I'll go," he said in an innocent voice.

Her gaze flickered to his erection. "You undress and then ask if I wish you to leave?"

He grinned, rakish and confident. "I was hoping I could convince you to allow me to stay."

"I can see that."

He shrugged. "The beds in the stables are far too"-he flicked a glance over her fair form-"lumpy."

She burst into laughter, rich and delighted. "So you're here because the bed is more comfortable. That's all?"

"Of course that's not all." He grinned. "I have far better reasons to stay." He crossed the room and bent down to brush his scruffy chin over her smooth cheek. "What do you say, Marcail? Shall we share the oh-so-comfortable bed? Or will you send me back out into the rain to sleep in the straw?" He allowed his warm breath to brush her ear. "That would be such a waste, and we've wasted so much time already."

She'd closed her eyes as his chin rubbed against her cheek, but now she took a deep breath, her fingers still toying with her laces. "I have a confession."

He nipped her ear. "Yes, my love?"

"When you arrived, I was just going to see you. We have so little time left and I wanted ... I wanted this."

The words sent a wave of warmth through him. The past didn't matter, or what the future might hold. All that mattered was right now. That was another lesson he'd learned over the years: life was a gift and there wasn't time to argue about the details. He'd faced enough storms, enough dangers, enough illnesses, enough bloodthirsty pirates to realize that every moment was precious and sweet. And for some reason, the moments with Marcail were doubly so. They couldn't afford to lose even these few.

He slipped a hand beneath her hair and pulled her close; she tucked herself against him as if made to be there. He finished undoing her ties and then pushed her gown off her shoulders, bending to kiss each inch of creamy skin as it was exposed.

She gasped as his lips grazed her collarbone, which encouraged him all the more. Accompanied by the crackling fire and the flicker of the flames, he began his seduction in earnest. He nipped and touched as he revealed more and more of her. When her chemise finally fell to the floor, he ran his hands down her silken skin, admiring every curve and shadow. His body ached with the need for her touch.

Marcail had never been so exquisitely tortured and pleasured at the same time. Her skin tingled every place his lips brushed; her body yearned for him. She ran her hands over his broad chest, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her seeking fingers.

He was such a man's man, all hard planes and firm muscles, and she was beset with an urgent desire to touch and taste them all. Her hands slid down his flat stomach to his hips, and then she reached for his erect c.o.c.k.

He stood stock-still, his breath ragged as she explored his length. It amazed her how his shaft could be so hard and yet the skin was so soft, like velvet over a rock.

She glanced up at his face and saw his eyes were closed, his expression one of tortured ecstasy. Very gently, she encircled his shaft and squeezed.

He gasped and dropped his forehead to hers. "Don't."

"You don't like it?"

His eyes opened and he chuckled, though he was still breathing heavily. "I like it too much. But I like this more-"

And with that, he kissed her-a pa.s.sionate, all-possessing kiss, branding her through and through.

As William's hard mouth claimed hers, she could think of nothing but his warm hands molding her to him, of the sensations streaking through her, leaving her gasping and hungry for more. She'd yearned for this for so long; no man had ever captured her the way William had.

He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck, sending a million shivers dancing up and down her bare skin. As he wrapped her closer, she could feel his c.o.c.k against her thigh, velvety hard and inviting.

She reeled and clung to him. It was heavenly to be so close, to feel his muscles beneath her seeking fingers, to smell the leather and sandalwood scent of his skin. She was awash in heated desire, all thoughts and cares gone.

William brushed aside the damp hair from her neck and strung delicate kisses down to her shoulder. Shivers rocked her and she clutched his shoulders, her knees weak.

He kept one arm firmly around her waist and his other hand cupped her breast, his thumb flicking against her hardened nipple. She arched against him and moaned, straining toward him, her body reacting to his every touch.

She wanted this, needed it, had dreamed of it-and now he was here, in her arms.

William slid his hand from her breast and boldly pressed it between her thighs, making her gasp again. He'd already aroused her so much that it took only a few strokes before she cried out, wave after wave of pa.s.sion breaking over her.

William held her tightly, murmuring soft words in her ear.

It took a while before she could even breathe enough for thought to return. When it did, she was encased in his powerful arms, his chin against her temple, his breath warm on her skin.

Outside, the rain beat on the roof and windows, but here, alone in the flickering firelight, their bodies warming each other, Marcail felt as if this was where she belonged-in William's arms.

But that was a dangerous feeling. Even if they found a way to overcome their past, she couldn't imagine William accepting her career, any more than she could imagine leaving London to live on a ship.

He slowly loosened his hold, keeping his arms about her waist. When he saw her expression, the smile in his eyes disappeared. "You look far too serious for a woman who has just been wonderfully pleasured."

She just shook her head.

He regarded her for a long moment. "Before I carry you to bed to pleasure you further, I wish to ask a question."

A tingle ran through her at the thought of further pleasure, and she had to clear her throat before she could speak. "What do you wish to ask?"

"You and Colchester don't share a bed. You never have."

Dear G.o.d. What do I do now? I promised never to betray his secret-but I can't lie to William. "That's not a question," she evaded.

"I already know the answer." His brows lowered. "So why is he your lover in name only?"

"William, please don't ask anything more. I can't tell you. I promised to guard Colchester's secrets, just as he's guarded mine."

"His secret is the reason?" William was silent for a few moments, clearly pondering, then his eyebrows rose, a surprised look on his face. "I'll be d.a.m.ned."

"William, you don't know-"

"But I do." He shook his head. "So London's most eligible bachelor isn't madly in love with a woman he can't marry, as most people believe. The truth is that he's not interested in women at all."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't need to." Finally, it all made sense. She hadn't turned to Colchester out of love or pa.s.sion after all. "But how does this relationship benefit you? Why, in the name of G.o.d, did you leave me for a man like Colchester?"

"I won't say. I can't-" Marcail tried to pull out of William's arms.

"No," he ground out, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. He set her on the thick coverlet and joined her, throwing one of his legs over hers to hold her in place. "Explain it to me, Marcail. Explain why you sent me away-"

"This isn't going to help anything. Nothing has changed, and-"

"I get to decide that. Now explain why you sent me away and took Colchester's protection."

"He offered me security. a.s.sistance. A home. His protection-"

"But not his bed."

Her face heated. "No. He never offered that and, to be honest, I didn't want it. I-I cared for someone else."

There was a moment of surprised silence.

"You cared for me." The thought astounded him. All these years he'd believed she'd been fickle, loose with her promises and favors. Now he'd found out something quite different.

She nodded, her eyes bright with tears. "When you left it gave me time to think, and I realized how vulnerable I was-and how dangerous I could be to your career in the navy. You were a very possessive man, and I'm an actress-it would never have worked. We would never have worked.

"Though I blamed your possessiveness then, you've made me realize how little of myself I gave to our relationship. It felt right, but when it came down to it, we were headed for an ending. If not right then, then soon enough. I hadn't been honest, and you were too possessive-" She shook her head, her thick hair curling about her cheek. "Neither of us were mature enough for the strength of the feelings we had for one another. It would never have worked."

She was right, but that didn't make him like it. "You make our case seem desperate."

"It was. If you'd gone into a rage at the regent, your career and mine would have been over."

"And your sisters depend on you."

She nodded. "I was desperately in love with you, and sending you away was so, so, so hard." She closed her eyes and turned her face away. "There were times I wish we'd never met."

His heart ached at her words. William's gaze flickered over her, resting on her throat where her wet hair clung, to her skin still flushed from his touch. With her hair damp and now clinging to her cheeks and neck, she looked far younger than her twenty-seven years. Any man seeing her would think she was a la.s.s of eighteen or so.

Knowing what she'd looked like at that age, he saw how her exotic beauty had bloomed as she'd matured. G.o.d, she was a lovely, sensual, devastatingly intelligent woman.

She hadn't been honest with him, but then, he hadn't really allowed her to be. His short temper and quick jealousy had hurt them both.

He turned her face to his and very gently kissed her lips. She opened her eyes, a tear running down her cheek. "William, I-"

He kissed her again. They'd done so many things wrong. There were so many reasons to apologize and never stop.

But right now, with the firelight flickering over the wonder of her naked body, her face tear streaked, her lips swollen from his kisses, he knew only one thing: that this moment was theirs.

And beginning with a tender kiss, he showed her all of that, and more.

A letter from Mary Hurst to her brother William, upon his missing yet another Michaelmas celebration.

It was madness to combine our family celebration with that of the MacLeans. What with Caitlyn and her brood, Triona and Hugh and his three daughters, plus the other three MacLean brothers and a sister and their families, there were so many children and governesses and tutors, I'm queasy just thinking about it.

Yet in the middle of the mayhem, it didn't feel right without having you there. Next year, please make an attempt to come. Family is the only anchor that will hold in a choppy sea.