Authors: Connie Mason
“Morgan, why are you staring at me like that?”
Morgan gave her a crooked smile. He had already forgotten why he wanted to speak with her. Looking at Luca made him forget his own name. “You’re beautiful. Your hair is growing, it’s nearly down to your shoulders. I rather liked it short.”
“I could cut it again.”
“Over my dead body.” He stepped closer, closer still, until he felt her soft breath wafting across his cheek. “You haven’t had an easy time of it, have you, sweetheart? Queen Bess doesn’t like being crossed, and when she is, her displeasure can turn vicious. Perhaps I should send you back to the country, away from court and all this turmoil.”
“Why
have
you disobeyed the queen, Morgan? And don’t even think of sending me away, for I shall return. Your servants like me even less than your friends at court do. Perhaps,” she said thoughtfully, painfully, “it would be best if I return to Spain.”
Morgan’s lips were but inches away when he said, “Of course it would, sweetheart, but since when have I ever done what is best? Letting you go would be like losing my right arm. I don’t understand it, I don’t even like it, but it’s true.”
Morgan had spent the past ten years schooling himself to hate Spaniards, and in a few short months Luca had taught him mere was something more to life than revenge. She had elicited from him searing joy, fierce anguish, sweet passion… and heat. He felt the wall he’d built around his heart crumbling.
His mouth slanted across hers, hot and demanding as his tongue probed her sweetness. He groaned and grasped her bottom, pulling her into the hardening ridge of his desire. He couldn’t begin to understand why he had denied himself all these weeks, when he would have given his soul to hold Luca’s naked body in his arms and make love to her as his body demanded. For months he had tried to obey the queen’s wishes instead of listening to his own heart. He had allowed his lust for revenge to destroy the only thing important in his life. It occurred to Morgan that he could live quite nicely without the queen, but he seriously doubted he could live without Luca.
Luca felt the swift, responsive rise of heat coil around her innards, tense and raw and as brilliant as the rising sun. Morgan’s words had been a balm to her flagging spirits. He cared for her, she felt it deep within her soul, but he had built his lust for revenge into a wall she couldn’t breach no matter how hard she pounded on it
“Sweet Luca,” Morgan groaned against her mouth. “You may not be a sorceress, but you come damn close. What you do to me is pure witchcraft.”
“What you do to me is pure magic,” Luca returned breathlessly. “And to think I wanted to be a nun. Had I never met you I would have missed the joy of being with you. Oh, Morgan, I lo…”
The words never left her mouth as Morgan’s lips plundered hers ruthlessly and his hands left a trail of fire along her flesh. When he picked her up and carried her to the bed, Luca felt the kind of happiness that came only once in a lifetime. And now, with Morgan on the verge of admitting he loved her, she could finally confide a secret she’d only suspected these past few weeks. She felt certain she was carrying Morgan’s child, but she had been too fearful of his response to tell him. The times he’d told her he didn’t want a half-Spanish child were too numerous to count, but suddenly she felt confident in his affection for her.
In moments they were both naked, worshiping each other with hands and lips and mouths, bodies writhing with the need to consummate this new beginning. Morgan aroused her slowly, gently, with great care and expertise, bringing her to the brink of rapture, then denying her release. Luca shyly brought her mouth to his velvet hardness, tasting, savoring, surprised to find the slight saltiness of his essence pleasing to her palate.
Morgan arched violently and grit his teeth. “Bloody Hell! No more, sweetheart, no more.”
He pinned her to the bed, sliding down her body and touching his mouth to her intimate channel His tongue probed deeply, savoring the musky scent of her arousal. With relentless purpose he drove her toward climax. Luca cried out and rode to a crescendo of raw bliss. He waited until her breaming returned to normal, then began arousing her again, until she was hot and wet with pearly moisture, until she begged him to come into her. Driven now by his body’s urgency, he positioned his straining erection at the portal of her sex and thrust sharply forward. He nearly lost control the moment her softness closed around him, but he damped his jaw tightly and flexed his hips, burying his throbbing length to the hilt. She felt the hardness of his sweat-drenched body quiver against hers, as if the effort for control was costing him dearly.
“Come with me, sweetheart,” he murmured hoarsely into her ear. “Come with me…
now!”
Crying out his name, Luca was nearly overwhelmed by the shattering ecstasy of her second climax.
Morgan gave a hoarse shout, thrust once, twice, then pulled out and spilled his seed onto the bedclothes. Luca watched in horror as his hand kept pumping until he was drained. Then he dropped down beside her and closed his eyes.
Though still dazed with passion, Luca wasn’t too overcome to know that what Morgan had done was unnatural. When her breathing slowed to a steady pounding, she rolled to her side and stared at him. “Why did you do that?” she asked querulously.
Morgan opened his eyes and gave her a look that was more grim than apologetic. “You mean withdraw? It’s one of the ways to prevent having children We’ve been fortunate thus far, but our luck can’t last forever.”
His words effectively laid to rest Luca’s foolish dream of living in contentment with Morgan and their child. He might want her sexually, but he had just proven that he abhorred the thought of having a child that carried her Spanish blood. The heartless rejection of their child brought a pain so severe that Luca clutched her stomach and turned away lest Morgan see how cruelly he had hurt her.
Had Morgan known the kind of devastation his words had wrought he would never have uttered them. His reasons had been quite different and far more simple than Luca’s interpretation. He wanted children, what man didn’t? The time had come to put the murder of his family to rest and get on with his life. Vengeance had been the driving force in his life for so long that he had excluded all else from it, including love. But now he wanted love. Luca’s love. And he wanted to have children with her, but not now.
Very soon he would join the English fleet and engage Spaniards in battle. What if he lost his life and left Luca behind with a child in her belly? Knowing the queen’s penchant for swift retaliation against those who displeased her, Morgan couldn’t even be sure his estates would go to Luca if he lost his life at sea. In the past, Elizabeth had seized property from those who went against her wishes, and Luca could end up destitute, with his child to raise. He couldn’t take that chance.
Of course it would be easier if he just stayed out of her bed, but their passionate natures made such an arrangement unworkable.
More like impossible,
he thought wryly. He could deny himself no longer, but he
could
be very careful to avoid leaving his seed inside her.
“Don’t turn away from me, Luca,” Morgan said, pulling her around to face him. “I can no longer deny my feelings for you. To Hell with the queen To Hell with Lady Jane. ‘Tis my life, and I’ll damn well do what I please with it.”
He touched her face and felt her tears. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?”
Luca saw no reason now to tell Morgan she was carrying his child. He might even make her get rid of her babe. She’d heard such things were possible.
“Did you hear me, Luca? What’s the matter?”
Fortunately Luca didn’t have to invent an answer. A loud rapping on the door interrupted what might have been a very awkward moment for Luca.
“Bloody Hell! Who could that be?” Tugging on his breeches, Morgan flung the door open, surprised to find Stan Crawford standing on the threshold.
“Stan! What is it? Has something happened to the
Avenger?”
“Relax, Morgan, the ship is fine. The Spanish Armada left Lisbon some weeks ago. It was badly mauled and scattered by storms and perverse weather but reunited at Corunna and is now on course. It has been spotted off the coast of France.”
“How do you know this?”
“A message arrived from the man you sent to track the armada. I imagine the queen has received the same intelligence.”
“I must confer with the queen immediately,” Morgan said, excited at being able to end this long period of inactivity. “I’ll join you on the
Avenger
directly. Call all the men in from shore leave.”
Morgan closed the door behind Crawford and turned to Luca. “You heard?”
She nodded weakly. “You’re leaving.”
“As soon as I’ve spoken with the queen. I’m sure she has her own intelligence out gathering information, but I need to know her plans now that the invasion is a virtual certainty.”
He dressed quickly, then turned to Luca. “I’m afraid there is no time to send you back to the country now. If I place you in the queen’s care, she won’t dare let anything happen to you.” He pulled her up by the shoulders and kissed her hard. His throat ached so he could hardly speak. “Luca, there are things I wanted to tell you, but they’ll have to wait. Take care of yourself, my love.”
“Be careful, Morgan. I will pray for you. I lo…” She started to say she loved him but thought better of it. It was far better that he hate her for what she had to do.
Queen Bess paced her Privy Chamber in a state of agitation. She was surrounded by members of her privy council and advisors, including Morgan.
“Intelligence just arrived indicating that the Spanish Expedition has encountered adverse weather but regrouped at Corunna and is nearing English shores,” she confided. “We are ordering victuals and supplies sent to our fleet and have issued warrants granting permission for Howard, Drake, and Hawkins to intercept the armada before it reaches our shores.”
“My ship is ready to sail,” Morgan informed her.
“Can you carry our warrants to the fleet?” Elizabeth asked.
“Aye, Your Majesty.”
“My scribe will give them to you. We wish you good sailing and happy hunting, Sir Scott.”
Morgan hesitated. “May I speak freely, Your Majesty?”
“Is there something else you wish to discuss?”
“Aye. ‘Tis about my wife. I know how you feel about her, but I am placing her into your keeping during my absence. I trust you will see that she is kept safe.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot upward. “Your audacity is boundless, Sir Scott. Do you think Our good will is without limit where you are concerned? Men of higher rank than you have fallen when they demanded too much of Us.”
“I realize I might be overstepping my boundaries, and, if I am, I beg your forgiveness. Luca is an innocent in many ways, and I ask only that you take her under your protection until I return.”
Elizabeth tapped her fan impatiently against her chin. “You have contributed generously to our coffers, therefore I shall honor your request. But do not expect too much of Us.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Morgan said, grateful for whatever protection she could offer Luca.
“God go with you, Sir Scott” Elizabeth said, bringing their conversation to an end.
Feeling in need of prayer and consolation, Luca dressed and hurried to the Jesuits’ chamber. She found them in the midst of packing their meager belongings. Father Pedro greeted her with an air of distracted concern.
“Daughter, come in, come in. The time has come for us to leave. We received a message just today that the armada is finally within sight of English soil, and the queen’s navy still sits idle at Plymouth.”
“The queen will move quickly now,” Luca surmised.
“The queen is a dithering old fool,” Father Bernadino said scornfully. “We must leave immediately. A boat is waiting at Dover to carry us across the channel to Calais. From there we will travel by coach to Brest and board a ship for Lisbon.”
“You must come with us, daughter,” Father Juan urged. “We know you were forced into marriage and could never love an Englishman. It won’t be safe for you at court once your husband leaves to join the English fleet. You must trust us, just as we trust you.”
Luca looked at him in astonishment. “How do you know Morgan is leaving?”
“Ah, we have our ways, daughter. We know your husband carries warrants from the queen to the fleet. We expect the fleet will move against the armada very soon.”
“We also know something not even the queen is aware of,” Father Juan confided. “Once the armada enters the English Channel it will stop at Dunkirk. The Duke of Parma has amassed twenty-five thousand troops from the Spanish Netherlands. They will join the twenty-five thousand troops already deployed aboard the ships in Spain. The troops carry sufficient arms and powder to ensure victory.”
Luca was dismayed by the numbers Father Juan had just quoted. “So many?”
“The size of the forces involved and the nature of their armament are unprecedented in either Spanish or English history,” Father Pedro bragged. “Spain will emerge victorious, for God is on our side.”
Luca’s heart froze. The number of ships, men, and arms was mind-boggling. But even more frightening was the fact that Morgan could be rushing toward his death. Did he know what the English fleet was up against? She had to tell him before he left London. She knew nothing would change his mind but her information could be extremely valuable. Her love for her husband far surpassed her love for her homeland.