Chapter Thirty-Four

Kit

Bright sunlight streaming in through the open window woke Kit from a deep and dreamless sleep. And with dawning consciousness, the throbbing in his arm made itself known with a vengeance. For a moment he struggled, his brain a fog, before everything came rushing back. Morvoren. Where was she? Someone else was in the room, moving just out of his line of vision. With what felt like an immense effort, he turned his head. Jenifry.

She glanced his way. "I see you're awake then."

He didn't grace that with a reply. "Where's Morvoren?" The words came out as a croak, damn it.

Jenifry, who had been folding clothing—perhaps his own from last night—stomped over to the bed and stood looking down on him from what seemed a great height. "Asleep in bed, as she should be. After sittin' up all night wi' you."

He licked his lips. "She shouldn't have."

Jenifry picked up a beaker from the bedside table. "Couldn't stop her. She were that worried about you, she swore she'd sit up and watch you herself. Wouldn't let me nor Jago do it."

Was that begrudging praise?

She slid a strong arm under his shoulders and held the beaker to his lips.

He gulped a few long mouthfuls of water. That was better, although he felt weak as a kitten. "What time is it?"

Jenifry snorted as she laid him down again. "As if I'd have an answer for that. 'Tis nigh on time for dinner, thass what. You been asleep all day if thass what you want to know. Morvoren said as sleep was what you needed and we wasn't to disturb you."

Another thought shouldered its way to the front of his mind. "The traitor?"

She tutted her tongue against her teeth. "That be for Jago to tell you. I'll go fetch him."

As she bustled out of the room, Kit closed his eyes again, shifting his arm a little to tentatively feel how bad it was. Hot pain sending jagged lightning bolts to his brain confirmed his suspicions. Best to lie still. But where was Morvoren sleeping? Not in the box room, surely?

His lips twitched in the hint of a smile. How easily thoughts of her brought that change in him. He'd always thought of himself as immune to love, if not the temptations of the flesh. But this wasn't just lust he felt for her. This was an inner stirring of the heart, a longing to hold her in his arms and keep her safe. Yes, he wanted her physically, although maybe not right now. But another part of him craved her company, her laughter when she fell over her feet dancing, and her bravery astride a horse.

What would that bravery be like in bed? Despite his weakened state a stirring in his loins told him he wasn't immune to her physical charms. His previous conviction that he couldn't expose her to his lifestyle melted away. This raid had probably put a stop to his nighttime activities for quite some time to come. There'd be no more consignments from France coming to Nanpean Cove for some time after this, and he would have to revert to being Lord Ormonde at Carlyon Court and finding other ways to help his poor villagers. And as Lord Ormonde, he might need a lady by his side. A lady with a social conscience. Just as Morvoren had proved to have.

Footsteps clumped on the landing. Kit's eyes flicked open as Jago came into the room in his outdoor clothes, bringing with him the smell of fresh air and horses. He paused on the threshold before coming to drop into the seat by the bed. "Well, Kitto," he began. "That were a near thing."

Kit nodded. "And would've been nearer still for all of us had it not been for Morvoren."

Jago's face scrunched up. "Aye. You're right there. I were wrong about her, an' I'm not ashamed to admit it. She's a girl wi' plenty o' pluck. Despite them clothes she were wearin' when you fished her out the sea." He grunted. "An' what she be wearin' right now."

Kit couldn't help the chuckle. If only his uncle knew the truth. He wasn't sure he believed it himself, except for the fact it seemed more likely than that she was a mermaid. He'd been addlepated when she'd told him, and it had seemed a good explanation of how she'd come to know he'd been betrayed and driven post haste all the way from Ormonde in his pursuit. But now? Was it really true? Would he ever have the courage to share the story with Jago?

He licked his lips again. What he needed was a flagon of sweet cider to wet his whistle. "Is she all right?"

Jago nodded. "She's a good little nurse. Stitched up your arm an' made a proper job of it. But she's exhausted. Been on the road for days, Sam says, an' rid the last ten miles on a hired carriage horse without a saddle." He chuckled. "She'll be a mite stiff when she wakes up, I'd wager."

Jago might as well be the first to hear. "I'm going to ask her to marry me," Kit said.

No surprise showed on Jago's face. "Thought you might. She's a girl to be grateful for, like your mother. A girl as brave as Elestren always were. A girl not afraid to get her hands dirty and help the Gentlemen when needed." His eyes took on a faraway expression as he stared toward the open window. "I remember her in my old britches up on that pernickety mare Father had. Slipper, her name were. A wild girl, your mother was, but your father tamed her." He laughed. "Well, he tamed her a bit."

His attention returned to Kit. "When're you plannin' on having the weddin' then?"

Kit grinned. "As soon as my arm's up to it and the banns can be called. As long as she says yes, that is."

Jago nodded. "I thought as much. No point in waitin', I'd say."

But another thing tugged Kit's mind back to the present. "Aleck Tregothnan. What's been done about him?" That his friend Aleck had betrayed them horrified him, but it could have been no one else. Now Tregothnan's shiftiness on being caught in Launceston made sense: his worried looks, his disquiet at finding Kit in Cornwall rather than in Wiltshire. Perhaps, and this was to give him the benefit of the doubt, he'd never meant to betray Kit but just the villagers and Jago. Which, in its way, was worse. The man needed punishment to suit the crime.

Jago's face darkened with anger. "We have him fast. I went by his inn at first light but the men'd been there before me. He weren't a pretty sight to behold, I can tell 'ee."

"Have they thrown him off the cliff?"

His uncle's bushy eyebrows rose. "How did 'ee know that was what they wanted to do wi' him?"

"Just a suspicion." Could he avert Aleck's fate now Morvoren had averted his own? But Aleck's actions had led to the death of one of their men. Would the rest of them be ready to spare him? What other punishment than death was possible? If Aleck had done it because he needed the money, then the same could be said of all of them, and no one else had peached on them.

Jago shook his head. "I wouldn't let 'em. They was all up in arms about Clemo. The soldiers've tooken his body so his widow's not got him to bury. 'Twas hard to hold 'em back from draggin' Tregothnan straight up to they cliffs, I can tell 'ee." He shook his head. "But I did. I thought as you'd best deal wi' him when you're up agin. We've got him locked in the cellar here. Seemed as good a place as any. None o' they soldiers'll think o' searchin' for him here."

"I'll get up," Kit said. "We'll deal with him right now."

Jago shook his head. "He'll still be here tomorrow and the next day. Let him stew in his own shit for a while. Won't do him no harm. He could do wi' reflecting on what he done wrong and how he betrayed the men what drink in his inn and pays his wage."

Kit sank back into his pillows. Perhaps that was a good idea. "Can you ask Morvoren to come to me? I've a question I need to put to her."

*

Morvoren

Ysella arrived inthe evening, on horseback, just as Morvoren was returning from Kit's room a newly engaged young lady. Ysella was dressed once more as a girl and riding sidesaddle. And she brought with her a sizeable bag with all the things required to transform Morvoren into something similar. However, it was with resignation that Morvoren submitted to Jenifry and Ysella helping her back into a pretty, muslin gown and soft slippers. Clothes that made her feel incapable of any action, or even of independent thought. If she was to marry Kit, she would need a little more freedom than these clothes gave her.

The thought that in agreeing to this marriage she'd never be going back to her old time washed over her. Would she miss it? Was loving Kit enough to expunge all she'd had there from her heart? She had to hope it was, because if it wasn't… No. She wouldn't think about it. This was her home now. Here with Kit.

Once she was dressed and her hair arranged in a sort of messy updo by Ysella, they went together to Kit's bedroom to see him.

He was sitting up in bed, propped against a sizeable pile of pillows, his face a little less pale than it had been that morning. Sleep had wrought a change for the better in both him and Morvoren.

"Kit!" Ysella ran to the bed and almost flung herself on him, only a restraining hand from him preventing her landing squarely on his injured arm.

"Steady on, Yzzie," he said, reprovingly. "Don't squash me flat."

She retreated a few inches, and Morvoren drew up a stool as Ysella lowered herself onto the chair beside his bed. Ysella's small hand found Kit's and hung on tightly. "I'm so glad you're not dead." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Because if you were, who would take me to Town next year for my coming out?" She gave a nervous giggle and glanced at Morvoren. "And what would I do without Morvoren for a sister-in-law?"

"She's told you?" Kit asked.

Ysella and Morvoren nodded together, and Ysella wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "I couldn't be happier for you. I told you, didn't I? Right back when you first brought dear Morvoren to Ormonde. That you were meant for one another." She paused, a small frown furrowing her brow. "But you must promise me—no, promise us both—that your days as a free trader are done."

Morvoren's gaze moved to Kit's face. Would he do that? For his sister and for her?

He sucked in his lips and sighed, silent for a moment. Then, "I fear our activities down here will be severely curtailed by Captain Carlyon and his redcoats for some time to come. So, although I can't promise never to be tempted that way again, I suppose I can say that at least for the foreseeable future, I will be steering clear of free trading."

Morvoren narrowed her eyes. A good way of not promising but placating them at the same time. Sneaky. But if she was to be his wife, then she could make sure he never again got the opportunity to put his life in danger.

She patted Ysella's hand where it still clung onto Kit's. "Don't worry. I shall find some other ways for Kit to help the poor. He won't be needing to be a free trader any longer."

Ysella beamed, more tears in her eyes and running down her cheeks.

*

Morvoren

A Month Later

"Alone at last,"Kit said, with a wicked laugh as he closed the bedroom door with his foot, a little awkwardly as he'd just carried Morvoren across the threshold. "I thought we'd never be allowed to retire."

"Well," she said, giving him a demure smile. "It was our wedding breakfast and those were our guests." Although she had to admit it hadn't been quite as she'd envisioned getting married would be. No white dress, no crowded church, no dancing afterwards, at least, not the sort she'd have expected in the twenty-first century. And somehow this had made the ceremony more intimate, instilling a glow of contentment in her heart.

The decision had been made; she was a nineteenth-century girl now, and intended to stay that way. With Kit's proposal a month ago, she'd accepted that she'd never be going back to her old world. Not that the door was in any way accessible, being under the sea. No way was she overcoming her fear of water and learning to swim, especially not underwater, and going off looking for that hidden doorway. And besides which, she loved Kit. No, she'd be staying here in his world.

And now, in the early evening of a warm August day, she was finally upstairs at Carlyon Court with Kit, on their own, married. Her whole body tingled with anticipation of what was to come.

She wriggled in his arms. "You can put me down now, if you like."

He shook his head and instead carried her across the room to the large four-poster bed. Someone, Ysella perhaps, had scattered rose petals across the counterpane. He set her down and remained bending over her, his face close to hers.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked.

"I was just examining my wife's face, and thinking how beautiful it is, and how lucky I am she chose to remain here with me."

"But you're going to kiss me now?"

For answer, he lowered his head and his lips met hers, at first gentle and exploring, then growing hotter and more demanding. Morvoren's own lips parted and their tongues met, dancing over one another. Her insides tightened with excitement and her arms went round him, pulling him closer.

When they came up for air, both were panting, and in unison they both laughed.

"Phew," Morvoren gasped. "You can do that again."

He did. This time even longer passed before their second break for fresh air.

She let her fingers run through his hair, just as she'd longed to do on the night they'd met in the corridor on their way to Denby's ball. He was hers and she was his, at last. The thought brought tears of happiness.

He must have seen. "Don't cry. I don't want to make you cry. You've no need to be afraid."

She shook her head. "I'm not afraid. I'm happy. Kiss me again before you dissolve to nothing and I realize this is just a beautiful dream."

A puzzled frown furrowed his brow, but he did as she bid. His lips came down on hers, hotter and more demanding than ever, his body pressed hard against hers and his arousal evident through the thin layers of fabric that separated them.

Time for some less ladylike behavior. She slid her hand down and brushed him with her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.

He stopped kissing her and gave a sharp gasp. "My God, Morvoren. You tease."

She grinned. "I know. Teasing is such fun. But we're both wearing far too many clothes for proper teasing."

He pushed himself into a sitting position, his face flushed. "Your fault. Normally a married couple are prepared for bed by their servants. It was you who made me dispense with that service."

She put a hand up to his cravat. "Because I wanted to undress you, and for you to undress me. That's why. Far more fun."

And so it was.

She pushed his coat off his shoulders and slid her hands inside his shirt, feeling the taut muscles under her fingertips and the trembling of his body that so perfectly matched hers. He gave a deep groan that settled the longing in her body into a glorious ache between her legs.

"Get this dratted gown off," he muttered, his hands fumbling with the buttons down her back. "I can never understand why girls wear so many layers of clothing with so many fastenings to undo."

The gown slipped off Morvoren's shoulders to pool gently around her, leaving her in just her thin muslin petticoat.

That came off next, along with her lemon slippers.

"Stays," Kit said, the tension in his voice palpable. "I also don't know why you girls wear stays, other than to keep us men at a distance. I can't undo all this. I'm cutting those ties. You'll have to get new ones tomorrow."

Her stays sprang away from her body and his hands sought out her breasts through the thin fabric of her slip. Her back arched at his touch and her own hands went to his breeches. "And you need to get these off. I can't wait." A hot sensation had flooded her body and she was aching for him as much as he evidently was for her.

He wrenched off his shirt, a small bandage still evident over his damaged right arm. The dark hairs on his chest, that until now she'd glimpsed only at his neck, curled across his muscled torso.

Reaching out to unbutton the drop on his breeches, her fingers brushed his arousal again, eliciting yet another groan.

He kicked his breeches away, naked now and more of a man than she'd ever expected or dreamed of as he snatched the slip from her body and threw her back onto the bed.

Finding her breasts, he groaned again, his lips coming down on an erect nipple and making her back arch as he sucked it in. His arousal pushed at her stomach, and she parted her legs, eager to take him in, more ready than she'd ever been.

His lips found hers, his tongue delving into her mouth as he entered her and shivers of exquisite pleasure rocked her body. He filled her to capacity, his long, strong strokes shimmering through her as she locked her still stockinged legs about his back and held him to her.

Her fingers dug into his naked back, the muscles quivering under her touch. Thrust after thrust drove a matching quivering through her own body, deeper, deeper into her molten core. That core overflowed, sending rivulets of fire from her toes to the top of her head, throbbing through her veins as his cries matched hers and he filled her to the brim in an explosion of heat.

Kit's weight sagged against her.

She realized she'd had her eyes screwed tight shut when she opened them to the sight of the four poster's canopy above her head.

"Whew," she managed, her voice just a breath of ecstasy still, the aftershock still skittering through her.

"I'm sorry," he said, all apologetic. "That was far too quick."

Morvoren shook her head as he shifted his weight. "Not for me. And anyway, it's not even dark yet. We've got all night ahead of us to practice."

He grinned. "Not just tonight. We've got the rest of our lives."

The End