He dropped his shirt and knelt down beside her, curling a lock of her hair about his finger with abject fascination. “Aye. ’Tis so hard that I can barely do it. So easily could I climb beneath the sheets again, between the silken embrace of your bewitching thighs! Forgetting all, lamenting not. Forgetting that we are outlaws and prime picking for a navy of hangmen.”
Alarm jumped to her eyes. She shoved at his chest. “Go! Get about your business—lecherous swain that you are!” She was teasing him, but she was not. He shrugged and rose, still regretfully. “The situation is not that bad,” he admitted. “We’ll make port for our repairs, and I believe we’ll find cordial welcome. I’ve come often to Upsinwich,” he assured her. “We will make out well, I’m sure.”
She stretched out lazily again, closing her eyes with a smile.
“Eh, girl! None of that!” Sloan admonished her with a firm swat upon the derrière that rose temptingly beneath the sheet. “If you would set your feet on land with me, you will get yourself ready now!”
“You’ll take me ashore? Is it safe? Not for anything, Sloan, would I cause bloodshed again!”
“You didn’t cause bloodshed—and aye, I’m quite certain it is safe. The town would warn us long before a battle could arise. And I’ve anchored here these several days to give belief to any enemies that we are halfway to the Orangeman’s household.”
She was out of the bed before he finished speaking, excitement giving a high flush and beauty to her cheeks and lighting up her eyes like the summer sky beneath a dazzling sun.
“Wear something demure, my love. You’re likely to dazzle the steadfast morals of these pious folks as it is!”
She tossed her head back imperiously. “I’ll have you know, Lord Treveryan, that I’m well acquainted with the Puritan faith! I was raised in it for many years.” She noticed the smile that twitched about his lips and queried him sharply.
“What, my lord, is that smirk for?”
“I am not smirking. I merely find it difficult to think of you as an innocent Puritan maiden, that is all.”
“Hmmph!” She sniffed, and turned her back on him once again.
She slipped her gown over her head, yet before she could secure it she was struck with a sudden thought, and even as she fumbled with the gown, she was crossing the few steps to him, clasping his arms in high excitement to gain his attention.
“Oh, Sloan, I was thinking! I know that we’re entering a Puritan town, but surely, we could find a minister of the Church of England—and we could be married today!”
The smile faded from his features so suddenly and completely that she was stunned, and felt as if she had been covered in ice. His eyes clouded, and she saw the hard jade once again, rather than the verdant warm green of a forest.
“I told you once, Brianna,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh and raggedly pained, “I cannot marry you.”
Had he viciously slapped her, he could not have given her a crueler blow. Her hands fell from his arms; she backed away from him and stared at him, seeing the implacable set of his face. All thought of laughter departed; it seemed that perhaps a storm cloud had passed over the sun, for neither did the day remain brilliant, but appeared to grow as gray as the pall that had come between them.
Brianna moistened her lips to speak. She did not recognize her own voice, it was so cool and distant. “I do not understand. Last night you promised that you loved me. That you would do so for life. Is your word so light, then, so completely without honor?”
His eyes closed briefly as he struggled with himself. He stepped toward her, reaching out a hand. “No!” she cried, and she feared that she would burst into tears if he touched her. “No! Explain yourself to me!”
“I said nothing that was not true. I love you. I love you with all my being, as I had never thought to know love. From now until my dying day, I swear that I will love you. But I never promised to wed you, Brianna. I told you long ago; I cannot marry you.”
“Why?” she shrieked, furiously battling her tears. “Dear God, sir! I cannot understand! Aye, you’ve risked your life for me, yet still it seems I am lady enough for the sport of your bed but not to bear your name under God!”
“Brianna.” He came to her then, grasping her arms. She twisted her head from him and tried to fight his grip, but he was firm and would not release her. “Brianna—I am married.”
“What?”The word was both cry and whisper. She no longer fought him, but stood dead still, staring at him and refusing to accept the finality of what he was saying.
“I am married, Brianna,” he said quietly, trying to soothe her, to hold her.
She did not want to be held, or touched, or soothed. She pulled away from him, shaking her head furiously and fighting tears. “Don’t, oh, don’t! Sloan—”
“Brianna!” He tried to interrupt: she would not allow him.
“How could you, Sloan? You have a wife, yet you determined to keep me too? You had no right—”
“You do not understand!”
“I could never have been anything to you but a mistress!” She was dangerously close to tears. “Never—there was never any chance! Oh, all my dreams! I believed that, yes, you did love me! That there could be a future—”
“I never lied to you!” Sloan charged, clenching his hands into fists at his side, fighting the urge to reach for her, grab her, force her to listen. “If you’d hear me out—”
