Irish Linen Page 5

  He would never have guessed that he’d be attracted to the woman he’d rescued. The look in her eyes haunted him, had drawn him in. Her manner was gentle, unassuming, and therein lay the challenge. Clean and dry and with good food that had already filled the hollows in her cheeks, Meghan McBride was a tempting female.

  He shifted closer, brushing against her shoulder. She withdrew, but he followed her, and she didn’t skitter away.

  “Ye shouldn’t say such things to a girl,” she said.

  “Why not?” he said. “If it’s the truth.”

  Meghan’s breath caught as Lucas covered her hand on the rail. She should be angry, but she wasn’t. She was disturbed, not by his behavior as much as her reaction to his touch.

  “Mr. Ridgely, please,” she whispered.

  “Miss McBride?”

  “Have ye forgotten ‘tis but a game we’re playing?” she asked.

  “Is it?”

  “Lucas!”

  He smiled. “You blush delightfully, Meghan.”

  Curse her Irish white skin! “I think I should return to me cabin.”

  “Afraid?” he taunted.

  “Terrified.”

  His expression softened at her frankness. “Am I so fearsome? I thought you trusted me.”

  “I did—I do,” she said. It was herself she didn’t trust. She was an engaged woman, and she’d never felt this way with Rafferty, her fiancé.

  “Stay, Meghan. I’ll try to behave.”

  She smiled; she couldn’t help it. He sounded as if behaving himself would be a battle.

  They stood in companionable silence as the sun set and the night heralded a dark sky filled with bright stars.

  “Meghan.” The soft entreaty made her look at him. “I’d like to take care of you.”

  She stared at him, her heart hammering. He wanted to marry her?

  “I’m a wealthy man. I have the means to give you anything you desire. As my woman, you’ll be happy.”

  Her face filled with heat. Mistress, she thought, looking away. He was asking her to be his kept woman! “Ye want me to—” She broke off, unable to finish as she tried to control her emotions. She didn’t know whether to be more offended by Ned Fellows’s assault or Lucas Ridgely’s proposition.

  “Meghan?”

  “No!” she choked. “I—” She spun to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

  “Meghan, I meant no insult.” He released her. “I’m a man of means, but I’ve little to offer a wife. I’m not interested in marriage, but I’m attracted to you—we’re attracted to each other.”

  She bristled. “Ye think too highly of yourself. I’m not interested in ya that way.”

  “Liar.”

  “I have a fiancé of me own. In America. I’m journeying to join him.”

  Lucas’s gaze hardened. “You’re engaged to be married.” She nodded. “And you didn’t think to tell me.”

  Meghan shrugged as she turned back toward the sea. “Our relationship’s been a game, nothing more. It didn’t seem important.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. “Has it?” he asked. His expression was hard. “Has this only been a game?”

  “Yes!” she cried.

  “Prove it,” he said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Prove it,” he demanded. He pulled her closer and kissed her. His lips were hot and demanding. He ravished her mouth and then gentled, trying to coax a response from her.

  Meghan, stiff and angry one moment, softened the next as his kiss changed. She moaned as she felt his tenderness, his desire. She clung to his shoulders as she participated in the exchange. Fire shot through her blood, warming her, making her feel dizzy. She gloried in his gentle strength and his passion for her. Suddenly, he thrust her away.

  “A game,” he rasped. “I think not. There’s more between us. Feel!” He caught her hand and placed her fingers over his thundering heart. Holding her gaze, he roughly lowered her palm to his trousers and the hot bulge that pulsated and stretched the fabric to its limit.

  With a wild cry, Meghan pulled her hand away. “Don’t!” She blinked away tears. He was cruel; how could he be so cruel?

  “I deserve to be a wife, not a mistress,” she said.

  He sighed and released her. “I’d provide for you. You’d want for nothing.” He exhaled with impatience. “Who is this fiancé? What can he give you?”

  “Respectability! His name.”

  “Is having his name so important?” Lucas asked. “As my woman, no one would dare insult you. You’d be treated with the utmost respect.”

  Meghan gave a bark of harsh laughter. “I’m penniless and Irish, Mr. Ridgely. Or have ye forgotten? No one in your social class would accept me as your wife, let alone as your—your—kept woman!”

  “They would if I wanted them to.”

  She shook her head at his arrogance. She held out her hand. “I think we should end this now.” Meghan dropped her hand when he didn’t immediately take it. “Goodbye, Mr. Ridgely.”

  In two days, the ship would dock in America. Surely, she’d be safe enough from Ned Fellows and his kind on her own for the remainder of the trip.

  But would she be able to survive her encounter with Lucas Ridgely? She’d have to. She had enjoyed his company. It had been nice while it had lasted. But now she would have to go on alone.

  “Are ye sure ye won’t come above?” Mrs. Finn eyed Meghan from the open cabin hatch, her gaze concerned.

  Meghan shook her head. “I’m waiting for Lucas,” she said. “But thank ye for asking.”

  The woman nodded and left, closing the door. Meghan’s cabin mates had gone topside with Mrs. Finn’s brother-in-law to get a breath of fresh air. Meghan was relieved. She’d spent the morning wondering how she was going to explain Lucas’s absence. Lucas had come for her every day since his rescue of her, and the women had been delighted by his attentions.

  But now Meghan no longer had to worry about answering her cabin mates’ questions. She could say that Lucas had come for her while they were above on the top deck.

  She stared at the bunks across from hers. If they inquired why they hadn’t seen her topside, she could say that she and Lucas had gone to his cabin to dine and spend time discussing their future plans. Only Mrs. Finn would know that it wasn’t the whole truth, and the older woman was romantic enough to hope that something was developing between Meghan and Lucas. Meghan suspected this because Mrs. Finn had made more than one comment about marriage and her concern over the age difference between Mary, a friend of hers, and Mary’s spouse. Meghan had wondered whether Mrs. Finn had confided in her to prove a point. It seemed strange that Mary’s husband, like Meghan’s fiancé, was old enough to be his beloved’s father.

  Meghan jerked to her feet and began to pace. No, she thought, I’m committed to Rafferty. I must be mistaken to believe that Mrs. Finn could have made such a suggestion.

  Lucas. Why did the man have to be so bloody attractive? She paused and scowled. Why couldn’t she remember Rafferty’s face?

  It was good that Lucas had shown his true colors, she realized, before she’d begun to care for him. The last thing she needed was to be swept up in a lot of romantic nonsense.

  Meghan tried to garner excitement for the fact that she’d be stepping on American soil for the first time tomorrow. She thought of her father and suffered a pang of loss. But then she recalled Rafferty, her father’s best friend, and had a sudden intense desire to see him again.

  Her spirits lifted, and she was smiling as she went to answer a knock on the cabin door. It was chilly topside, she knew. Meghan opened the hatch, believing one of her cabin mates had returned for an extra shawl. And she was shocked to see who stood outside the door.

  “Lucas!”

  “Hello, Meghan.” He looked uncomfortable, uncertain, and she would never have believed the man capable of feeling either.

  “I thought it was—” She began and then turned away to hide her reaction to his a
ppearance. “—Bridget.”

  “You’re alone,” he said.

  She swung back to face him. “Yes.”

  He stepped into the cabin. “We need to talk.”

  “No,” she said, averting her glance. He looked good, too good, she thought, his image imprinted firmly in her mind. It would be better if he left now, before she did something she’d regret, something foolish like falling into his arms and begging him to kiss her again.

  He was silent for so long that she wondered whether he’d gone. Meghan glanced back just as he moved closer. Her heart fluttered. Her breath stilled as she met his dark gaze. She had difficulty swallowing as she felt his disturbing power.

  “Will you walk the top deck with me?” he asked.

  I shouldn’t. She stiffened. “Why?”

  “You thought I wouldn’t come since you turned down my proposal.”

  She didn’t bother to deny it. “Proposition,” she murmured, correcting him. Not a proposal. Nothing in his offer had even hinted at a commitment of the heart.

  “You were right,” he said. “The bogus betrothal was my idea, so let’s continue it.” He paused, and his ebony eyes searched her face. “What did you tell your cabin mates about us?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered, frightened by the physical pull she felt toward this man. “They know nothing about yesterday’s conversation.”

  A flash of satisfaction lit up his expression. “Good.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Good?” she echoed.

  “Because then you have an excellent reason for coming with me.”

  “Lucas—”

  “We must continue our betrothal until tomorrow,” he said. “It’s only one more day. Surely you can stand my company for a little longer.”

  Lucas held out his hand. “Walk with me, Meghan.”

  She stared at his rugged, handsome features and then at his extended fingers. Her pulse picked up its rhythmic cadence as she debated whether or not to go.

  Meghan realized that she wanted to be with him. What harm could it cause to spend just a few more hours in his company?

  He’s dangerous.

  No, she told herself firmly. She was engaged to Rafferty O’Connor. She was going to be married to a man she cared for and respected. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their relationship.

  It didn’t matter that Rafferty was over twenty years older than her, she thought. He’d be a good husband. She wouldn’t allow her brush with Lucas Ridgely to ruin her future happiness.

  “All right,” she said, and he grinned. And his smile did the oddest things to her. It made her tingle all over. It wrapped her in a blanket of warmth and brought her back to pulsating life. How could she regret this small moment of time with him?

  Because Lucas Ridgely is lethal. He makes ye feel things that could ultimately hurt ye. She had never believed that passion blended well with love, yet her strange feelings for the man had her thinking …

  Rafferty was comfortable, safe, and all that a husband should be. He’d always be there for her, while Lucas … was unreliable, not interested in commitment or marriage … bad for her in all the ways that counted.

  Why then was she so happy that Lucas had come?

  Seven

  The cry of Land ho! filtered down to the lower decks, waking Meghan and causing a feminine flurry in the cabin. The Mary Freedom hadn’t reached America yesterday afternoon as had been expected. It was the second morning after Lucas had invited her to walk the deck, and Meghan had spent many hours enjoying his company, trying to keep herself at a distance … and failing.

  She’d bundled her belongings into a small sack the day before. She dressed hurriedly, wondering if she’d see Lucas again before leaving the ship. Meghan grabbed her cloak and threw it over her head.

  “Meghan?” Mrs. Finn asked as Meghan went to the hatch.

  “I’m going above.”

  “Meghan, wait!” Bridget exclaimed, but Meghan left, hoping to find Lucas on the upper deck, wanting to see him alone for the last time.

  A gust of wind assaulted her as she climbed out of the companion way onto the top deck. She raised the hood of her cloak, holding it beneath her chin to keep it in place. The weather was cold, typical for America this time of year or so she’d been told. She shivered while she searched the length of the port side rail for Lucas.

  Meghan’s spirits sank. Lucas was nowhere to be found. She moved over to the starboard side, silently praying for him to be there. She knew that she was wrong for wanting to see him, but she couldn’t help it. The man had rescued and been kind to her. He’d been the perfect gentleman, accepting her rejection of his offer with good grace.

  Her heart hammered hard when she couldn’t find him. Meghan debated what to do and felt her stomach burn when she decided to check his cabin.

  Ye shouldn’t be going. You’re betrothed to another. Lucas is dangerous. Go back to your cabin and forget the existence of Lucas Ridgely.

  Meghan froze on the companionway steps. What am I doing? she thought. “Saying goodbye,” she murmured beneath her breath.

  Are ye sure? an inner voice taunted.

  “Aye,” she whispered. “I must thank him before bidding him farewell.” If she didn’t, she’d be haunted by him for the rest of her married life.

  She found Lucas’s cabin with no problem—she’d been there at least four times since his rescue of her. Meghan raised her hand to knock and then hesitated before striking the portal. She experienced a moment’s doubt. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Her skin tingled at the thought of seeing him again. How would he react to her coming?

  Her knuckles struck wood, and she stepped back, trying to steady her uneven breathing. Despite the fact that she’d spent so much time in his company, she was nervous and excited … and a little scared.

  The hatch opened with a creaking sound.

  “Meghan!” Lucas stood, looking surprised but pleased. Meghan’s gaze fell on his bare chest, and she fought the urge to look away, even while she enjoyed viewing the naked skin and muscled sinew. A light dusting of hair swirled about his nipples and formed a triangle of gold down over his belly, its point disap pearing beneath the waist of his trousers. Dear God, what must it be like to lie with him?

  She felt herself flush as she forced her gaze up from his stomach. Expecting to see his amusement—although her study had lasted only seconds—she was startled to see desire in his eyes … a desire that matched her own. She glanced about to see if anyone was watching and was relieved that no one seemed to be about.

  “May I come in?” she said.

  He nodded and stepped back, allowing her to pass him. As she moved past him, she got a whiff of soap and tobacco … and a scent that she’d come to recognize and enjoy … a scent that belonged only to Lucas.

  Meghan crossed the cabin and then turned to watch him close the door. Her heart thundered so loudly within her chest that she was afraid that he’d hear it. But when he turned, there was nothing in his expression then, but polite reception and more than a little curiosity in his gaze. No heat in the dark eyes … no burning desire. And she realized she must have misread him.

  “Did you hear the news?” she asked as he approached. “They’ve seen land.” She thought she sounded breathless, a state no doubt caused by the man’s nearness.

  Lucas nodded, and she all but flinched as he reached by her to grab his shirt from the back of a chair. He silendy studied her as he shrugged into each sleeve.

  Now that she was here, she was anxious to say her piece and be gone. What madness made her come? She, an engaged woman, seeking out a single man? “I wanted to thank ye for all you’ve done,” she said in a rush, feeling foolish all of a sudden.

  He paused in the process of buttoning up his shirt. “You’ve thanked me already, Meghan. You didn’t have to come here for that.”

  Her cheeks filled with heat, but she held his gaze. “I—I wanted to say goodbye.” She paused, before admitting, “Without others
present.”

  He finished the last of the buttons and looked up. His eyes warmed and then burned brightly with liquid fire. “Why?” he asked.

  “Why?” she echoed. The blood rushed through her veins.

  He inclined his head.

  Meghan searched for a response. “I couldn’t say goodbye before the others, because they think I’m going with ye.”

  Lucas shook his head as he stepped closer. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. “I wish you were coming with me,” he said huskily.

  “Don’t, please!”

  He slipped his hand about her nape and pulled her against him. She gasped; his body felt warm and hard and very much alive.

  “Lucas.”

  “Kiss me, Meghan. Kiss me goodbye like you’ll miss me.”

  “No, I—”

  “Shh!” He was so close that she could feel his breath. Soft warm puffs of sweet scented air fanned her right cheek, her nose, and then moistened her left cheek. His head dipped lower, and Meghan froze in anticipation of his kiss. Her pulse raced, and she knew she should be fighting him, but she wanted—needed— him to kiss her one last time.

  “What harm could a little kiss do?” he asked. His mouth was a hair’s breadth from her lips. “One kiss,” he whispered. “Just one small farewell kiss.”

  She felt a little catch in her throat, heard the sound it made as he embraced her. Meghan inhaled sharply as he tightened his arms. He began to move his hands over her from back to lower spine, and the press of him against her told her of his desire.

  She wanted him, too. Lord help her, she could stop him if she chose to, but she didn’t want to. “Lucas … kiss me.”

  “Dear God, woman,” he rasped, and then his mouth was on hers, sipping from her sweetness like a man long thirsty for a drink. He drank from her lips and demanded more when she responded. “Open your mouth, Meghan.” His voice was deep and thick with desire.

  She gazed up into his passion-filled face and felt a prickle of uncertainty, of the wrongness of something that for a second had seemed so right.