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Authors: Lynette Vinet
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and—”
“Quiet the both of you! Now keep your silly ramblings to yourselves and come fill your bellies and mouths with me stew.” Mrs. Mort’s voice became low then drifted away to nothing.
A draft suddenly rushed through the hallway and Marlee’s skin chilled at what she’d heard, or rather what she’d seen. It wasn’t what Mary and Denney said about Arden that bothered her, it was the way Mrs. Mort reacted. The housekeeper had practically used force on the both of them as she whisked them off to the kitchen. Why had she done that? Was it to silence them, to keep her from overhearing. But why?
The man in the library with Hollins Carpenter was Richard Arden, Baron of Arden Manor, her husband. There was no good reason for servants’ silly prattle to unnerve her. It was only when Barbara and Simon called to her to join them for tea in the parlor did she forget what she’d overheard. Yet for the rest of the afternoon, a vague uneasiness settled upon her.
~ ~ ~
“I’ve found the perfect ship, Carpenter. She’s strong of timber and sleek of hull. With the proper rigging and crew, I shall soon be able to sail after Manuel Silva.” Lark finished gazing out of the window and with his arms folded resolutely across his broad chest, he turned to Hollins. “I’ve been interviewing able-bodied crew men from the village.”
“Is that wise, my lord? I mean, suppose someone becomes suspicious—”
“No one knows who I am, Carpenter,” Lark ground out. “The men meet on the beach and know me only as Captain Lark. No one suspects I’m impersonating Richard. And as for your being so concerned about my deception”—Lark impaled the solicitor with a black look—”then explain why Lady Arden was hiring a staff, why strangers were allowed into the house. You know very well we agreed that no one would be admitted while I’m here.”
Sweat popped out upon Carpenter’s forehead. “Er, well, I had no control over the matter, my lord. Her ladyship informed me what she was going to do, and you weren’t here to change her mind. I couldn’t very well forbid her from hiring a staff, that would have seemed odd to her. As it is, Mrs. Mort is more than upset and I fear she may eventually break down and admit the truth to your wife—I mean, Lady Arden. You must understand what a delicate position you’ve placed me in. I hate lying to her.”
Lark hated lying to Marlee, also, but he’d never admit that aloud. He’d chosen the perfect ship and was now hiring on a capable crew. All he needed was the money. And Marlee still hadn’t signed the document. He repressed a sigh to think about his cousin’s widow. Everything would be so damned simple if Marlee had turned out to be an ugly and mean-spirited woman. But she wasn’t.
Marlee was more beautiful than he could have imagined. Even now, he could visualize the way tiny golden sparkles danced within the centers of her sapphire eyes. Worst of all, he could still recall how her lips had tasted when he’d kissed her. They’d been sweet like cinnamon, warm and soft as velvet. He’d wanted to make love to her but had pulled away from her, because he’d considered himself to be an honorable man. He wouldn’t bed her only to attain her purse.
But he wasn’t a man of honor any longer—not now—not when he was deluding her into thinking he was her husband. And Marlee wasn’t virtuous, though she gave the impression that she was an innocent. Any woman as beautiful and wealthy as Marlee shouldn’t have had to marry a man she’d never met. This thought led Lark to attribute his own behavior by giving credence to the story Carpenter had told him about Marlee.
For all her seeming innocence, she wasn’t virtuous. If she had been, Richard wouldn’t have married her in the first place. So, why not woo Marlee into signing the document? Why shouldn’t he bed her and enjoy bedding her to get what he wanted? She’d appeared more than eager for his touch and kiss the night
“Quiet the both of you! Now keep your silly ramblings to yourselves and come fill your bellies and mouths with me stew.” Mrs. Mort’s voice became low then drifted away to nothing.
A draft suddenly rushed through the hallway and Marlee’s skin chilled at what she’d heard, or rather what she’d seen. It wasn’t what Mary and Denney said about Arden that bothered her, it was the way Mrs. Mort reacted. The housekeeper had practically used force on the both of them as she whisked them off to the kitchen. Why had she done that? Was it to silence them, to keep her from overhearing. But why?
The man in the library with Hollins Carpenter was Richard Arden, Baron of Arden Manor, her husband. There was no good reason for servants’ silly prattle to unnerve her. It was only when Barbara and Simon called to her to join them for tea in the parlor did she forget what she’d overheard. Yet for the rest of the afternoon, a vague uneasiness settled upon her.
~ ~ ~
“I’ve found the perfect ship, Carpenter. She’s strong of timber and sleek of hull. With the proper rigging and crew, I shall soon be able to sail after Manuel Silva.” Lark finished gazing out of the window and with his arms folded resolutely across his broad chest, he turned to Hollins. “I’ve been interviewing able-bodied crew men from the village.”
“Is that wise, my lord? I mean, suppose someone becomes suspicious—”
“No one knows who I am, Carpenter,” Lark ground out. “The men meet on the beach and know me only as Captain Lark. No one suspects I’m impersonating Richard. And as for your being so concerned about my deception”—Lark impaled the solicitor with a black look—”then explain why Lady Arden was hiring a staff, why strangers were allowed into the house. You know very well we agreed that no one would be admitted while I’m here.”
Sweat popped out upon Carpenter’s forehead. “Er, well, I had no control over the matter, my lord. Her ladyship informed me what she was going to do, and you weren’t here to change her mind. I couldn’t very well forbid her from hiring a staff, that would have seemed odd to her. As it is, Mrs. Mort is more than upset and I fear she may eventually break down and admit the truth to your wife—I mean, Lady Arden. You must understand what a delicate position you’ve placed me in. I hate lying to her.”
Lark hated lying to Marlee, also, but he’d never admit that aloud. He’d chosen the perfect ship and was now hiring on a capable crew. All he needed was the money. And Marlee still hadn’t signed the document. He repressed a sigh to think about his cousin’s widow. Everything would be so damned simple if Marlee had turned out to be an ugly and mean-spirited woman. But she wasn’t.
Marlee was more beautiful than he could have imagined. Even now, he could visualize the way tiny golden sparkles danced within the centers of her sapphire eyes. Worst of all, he could still recall how her lips had tasted when he’d kissed her. They’d been sweet like cinnamon, warm and soft as velvet. He’d wanted to make love to her but had pulled away from her, because he’d considered himself to be an honorable man. He wouldn’t bed her only to attain her purse.
But he wasn’t a man of honor any longer—not now—not when he was deluding her into thinking he was her husband. And Marlee wasn’t virtuous, though she gave the impression that she was an innocent. Any woman as beautiful and wealthy as Marlee shouldn’t have had to marry a man she’d never met. This thought led Lark to attribute his own behavior by giving credence to the story Carpenter had told him about Marlee.
For all her seeming innocence, she wasn’t virtuous. If she had been, Richard wouldn’t have married her in the first place. So, why not woo Marlee into signing the document? Why shouldn’t he bed her and enjoy bedding her to get what he wanted? She’d appeared more than eager for his touch and kiss the night
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