The Illegitimate Montague

Bernard Hall had never awoken in her any spark. Unlike the man sitting beside her now. When she had looked into Adam’s eyes for the first time that day it was as if someone had applied bellows to a smouldering fire. She had burned, really burned, with a desire so strong she had almost thrown herself upon him.

Thankfully he had not noticed, merely staring at her, clearly shocked at her dishevelled appearance. She had brazened it out, of course, and she was thankful that he had stayed to help her. She was grateful, too, that he showed no sign of wanting to ravish her. Wasn’t she? Amber had to admit that his patent lack of interest piqued her. He was once again her hero, her knight in shining armour, but he clearly did not see her as his princess.

They sat in silence, consuming their simple meal. The cloth hanging around them was billowing gently in the breeze, washed in the golden glow of the fire.

‘What will you do with the damaged cloth?’ he asked.

‘I will rescue what I can. The linens and cottons can be laundered and should be almost as good as new. The rest I hope to sell off cheaply to the villagers. What is left I will take to the vicarage to give to the poor. I am sure Reverend Seagrove will find a good home for any cloth I cannot sell. I will have to order replacements for some things. I have to fulfil an order for Castonbury Park, you see. New curtains and bed-hangings, as well as livery for the servants. They will need the fabrics as soon as may be for the wedding—but you will know that, of course.’

‘Er, no.’

‘Surely your mother will have told you in her letters that Lord Giles is to be married?’

‘We have not been in touch.’ He could not meet her eyes and it was a struggle to explain. ‘When I was last here we argued. No.’ He had to be honest with her. ‘My mother never said a harsh word to me. It was all my doing.’

She touched his arm.

‘Will you tell me?’ she asked gently.

Adam hesitated. There was nothing but kindness in her manner, and suddenly he wanted to talk about it.

‘It was ten years ago. I came to tell her that I had quit the navy, that I was going to try my hand at business. She was shocked. Disappointed, I suppose, that I was giving up a promising career and uncertain that I would make a go of it.’ He sighed. ‘I was young, impatient. I had been given my own ship to command at twenty and that went to my head, I thought I could do anything. My mother was less certain.’

‘I am sure she only wanted what was best for you.’

‘I know you are right, but at the time I saw it as a slur, a lack of confidence in my abilities.’

He looked up at the sky, his jaw tightening. It had also brought back his own lack of confidence in his birth. Away from Castonbury Park he was Captain Adam Stratton, hero of Trafalgar, a clever and courageous sailor. Here, he would always be known as the duke’s bastard. Oh, no one said as much to his face, but he had heard the whispers, the gossip. His mother never spoke of her husband, there were no portraits of “Mr Stratton” in the housekeeper’s quarters at Castonbury Park. As a very young boy his questions had been met with evasion, and when he grew older Adam stopped asking about his father, afraid of what the answer might be. Then, when he had quit the navy and come back to Castonbury Park, full of plans for the future, he had asked the question one more time. He gave himself a mental shake. No need to go into that now. Taking a breath he continued.

‘I stormed out, vowing that I would not return, would not contact her, until I had made my way in the world.’

‘And is that why you are back, because you have now … “made your way in the world”? You are perhaps a wealthy man,’ she added after a slight hesitation, ‘with a wife and family …?’

He shook his head. ‘No, no wife. No family.’

He thought of the fair-haired beauties he had met on his travels. Many of them were ladies of noble birth, eager to know more of him. After all, a captain in the king’s navy was a romantic, heroic figure. Several of them had thrown out lures, making it quite plain that they would welcome his addresses, but he had resisted them all. He might tell himself that he was his own man, but at that stage the question of his birth still rankled, and he was determined to make a name for himself before taking a wife. And he had done so. He was now a mill owner, a captain of industry, but he had soon discovered that those well-bred families wanted nothing to do with trade. Only his fortune made him acceptable to them, and perversely, he did not want anyone to marry him for his fortune. He wanted to find a woman who would marry him for himself alone.

Amber’s thoughtful brown eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to continue. He kept his tone matter-of-fact.

‘I promised I would not return until I could provide her with a house of her own. Looking back, it seems so petty, so very arrogant and foolish, but I held to my vow while I toiled to achieve my goals. I was determined to be successful, no debts and money in the bank, before I contacted my mother again. It was hard work, but I achieved it. I owe no man anything. But at what cost?’ He sighed. ‘I am ashamed to say I have not written, have had no news of my mother, for ten years. It is no fault of hers,’ he added quickly. ‘I left no forwarding address. I severed all links with her. In fact, until you told me last night, I did not even know if she was still at Castonbury Park.’

‘And, is that why you are back now? Do you have a house for her?’

‘Yes, I have a house now. In Lancashire.’

‘And what is this … business that you are engaged in, Mr Adam Stratton?’

‘Oh, this and that.’ He waved one dismissive hand. ‘I have several ventures ongoing, they are all of them more or less successful.’

‘Then your mother will be very proud of you.’

‘That is not what I deserve. She should berate me for the fool that I have been. A damned stubborn-headed fool! I only hope that she will receive me.’

Adam tried to keep the uncertainty from his voice but he was sure she heard it, for she hastened to reassure him.

‘From what I know of Mrs Stratton I am sure she will be overjoyed to see you. Any mother would be.’ A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘But perhaps you should tidy yourself up a little before you see her.’

Adam glanced across at his damaged coat.

‘I fear you are right. I shall be turned away as a common beggar if I arrive on the doorstep like this!’ He ran his hand over his chin. ‘And without a looking glass I dare not shave in the morning.’

She laughed.

‘Come to my shop with me and we will see what we can do for you!’

Amber gave her attention to her food again, surprised by how readily she had issued the invitation. He was little more than a stranger, after all, even if he had come to her rescue in the most dramatic way. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they had known each other as children. She felt at ease, comfortable to be sitting beside him. If she were fanciful, she could believe they were in some different world, one where the constraints and dangers of real life did not exist.

‘You are very pensive,’ he said at last. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I feel like I am in a fairy tale,’ she said, smiling. ‘We might be in an Oriental pavilion with sumptuous fabrics decorating its walls.’ She chuckled. ‘Not that there is anything very sumptuous about block-printed cotton!’

‘This is no fairy tale, madam.’ His voice was stern. ‘Far from it. I cannot think what possessed you to be moving such a valuable cargo on your own.’

‘Normally I would not do so, but I had no driver and I needed to fetch in these supplies urgently.’

‘You could have hired a carrier.’

She shook her head.

‘Not in time. There is no one in Castonbury who would take the risk.’

‘Risk?’

She crumbled a piece of cheese between her fingers, searching for words.

‘Things have been … happening recently. The carrier was attacked on his last run and decided he dare not take out another wagon for me. He has a family, you see—’

‘Wait.’ Adam stopped her. ‘Do you mean to say someone threatened him?’

She nodded.

‘It cannot be proved, of course, but …’ She hesitated, wondering if she dare tell him her suspicions. She said in a rush, ‘I think it is Matthew Parwich. He is a rival cloth merchant from Hatherton and he would be glad to take over my business. I am sure it was Parwich who sent those ruffians to waylay me. They did not want to harm me, only to ruin my stock.’

‘You knew this might happen and still you set out alone?’

His angry tone flayed her. She had been afraid he would laugh at her suspicions, think her fanciful. Instead he thought her foolish. She spread her hands.

‘Frederick had to stay at the warehouse. And I didn’t really think I would be attacked.’ The excitement was still bubbling through her veins, making her reckless. She put up her chin, giving him a challenging look. ‘Besides, I had my pistol and I did wing one of them.’

Adam’s blood chilled at the thought of what might have happened. He rammed the stopper back into the wine flask with unwonted force.

‘That’s as may be, but if I hadn’t come along—’

‘I know, I am so very glad that you did.’ Her glowing look acted like a fever, turning his blood from ice to molten lava in an instant. ‘Together we sent them to the right-about, did we not?’ She leaned closer until he thought he might drown in her dark eyes. ‘I am so grateful to you. How can I ever thank you?’

He held her look, knowing what he would like from her, knowing equally well it was impossible, yet there was something in her eyes, some spark of recognition, as if she could read his thoughts. She put her hand on his shoulder and raised herself until she could touch his mouth with her lips. They were soft and warm and it took all his willpower not to respond.

‘Not in that way.’ His voice was gruff, barely audible even to himself, but perhaps that was because she was so close, her face only inches away, and his breathing was so constricted. ‘Madam—Amber, I … do not want … to … dishonour you, but … I am no … saint.’

Amber’s pulse was racing. She still felt exultant, powerful, after successfully repelling the attack and saving her precious cargo. She remembered something Bernard used to say about his friends, when they were hunting—’there was no stopping them when their blood is up.’ That was how she felt now, unable to stop. And she did not care.

‘I would not have you be one.’

The low words were no more than a whisper against Adam’s skin. She put her hand to his cheek and he responded to the pressure of her fingers to close the small distance between them. He slid his mouth across hers and as his kiss deepened she responded. His tongue touched her lips and they parted eagerly. She pushed the blanket from his shoulders and ran her hands over his bare back. Gently he eased her down to the ground, the blood pounding through him as her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him down with her. The buttons of her mannish jacket gave way easily to his fingers and soon he had pulled away the neck cloth and opened her shirt. When he placed his mouth on her throat it was every bit as soft and smooth as he had imagined. She trembled beneath him, sending his passion soaring out of control. His hand moved over the swell of her breast and she moaned softly, pushing against his fingers. She struggled to sit up and he released her immediately, trying to quell his disappointment, but she was not repulsing him. She dragged off her linen shirt and twisted round.

‘Unlace me.’

His fingers trembled on the laces. He bent to kiss her bare shoulder and her head fell back. She sighed, eyes closed, dark lashes fanned against her golden cheek. Hastily he dragged the laces free and the restricting corset fell away. He pulled her against him, cupping her breasts. They tensed beneath the thin cotton of her chemise. The next moment she was throwing off this last hindrance and turning back to face him.

A sudden stillness enveloped the little clearing, only the faint crackling of the fire disturbed the silence. Amber knelt before him, head bowed and that glorious hair cascading down over her shoulders. In the golden firelight she took his breath away. Gently, slowly, he reached out and pushed the hair back, his fingers caressing her neck, cupping her face, pulling her closer. Their kiss began tenderly enough, but he felt its latent power, like the rolling breakers he had seen on so many beautiful, dangerous shores, from Cornwall to Corunna. An inexorable force that carried all before it.

Amber gave him back kiss for kiss, dragging him down again onto their makeshift bed, her hands scrabbling to unfasten and remove his breeches. His skin was chill and slightly damp from the buckskin and she pressed herself against him. His reaction to her warm, shapely body was immediate, as was his gasp when her fingers closed about his erection. He had to force himself to ignore the havoc she was creating within him. The blood was pounding in his ears; he fought down the urge to satisfy his own need and concentrated on pleasuring her. He placed his mouth over one taut breast, his tongue circling, teasing, while she groaned beneath him. His hand swept over her hip, caressed the hinge of her thigh and moved on to where she was opening for him, inviting his touch. She writhed beneath his fingers. She was nearing the crest of her passion. He shifted his body and eased himself into her, stroking, caressing, containing his own excitement while she began to move wildly against him, her nails digging into his back.

‘Adam!’

The anguished cry broke from her. She quivered; he could feel her tensing around him, possessing him. There was nothing he wanted more than to remain inside her and complete their union, but that would be reckless, irresponsible. It took all his iron will to withdraw and make his own shattering ending against the soft skin of her belly.

A languid peace settled over them and they lay, sated and content, until the dying fire could no longer keep them warm. Amber wiped a napkin across her stomach, then tossed it aside and pulled the frieze blanket over them.

‘My dear—’

‘Shh.’ She pulled him into her arms. ‘Enough. Sleep now.’

Chapter Two

Amber drifted back to wakefulness, amazingly content and at peace, like a feather drifting gently back to earth after a great storm. It was almost dawn, a grey twilight hung over the clearing. She was lying in a man’s arms, their naked limbs fitting snugly together in the most natural way and she felt relaxed. More than that, she felt cherished. Loved. She had been an innocent maid when she had married Bernard, and he had been a selfish lover, their coupling had left her feeling lost and dissatisfied. At the time she had not known why but now, lying here with Adam, she understood.

Adam. She moved slightly, tentatively touching the lean body stretched beside her. They had not met since they were children, yet she had felt an immediate affinity with him. Perhaps it was because he had come to her rescue once again. She smiled in the darkness. It was more likely his magnificent physique. She recalled how she had reacted to the sight of his naked chest, when he had removed his wet shirt, the firelight glinting on his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest. Just the thought of it sent shafts of aching lust running through her again.

Reluctantly she moved away from his warmth and curled herself into a ball. How wanton he would think her. How shocked she was that she had thrown herself at him! Amber had no idea what had come over her. Could she blame it on the wine, perhaps, or on their situation, surrounded by the gently billowing fabrics, as if they were in some exotic pavilion? No, nothing could excuse her behaviour. She had thrown caution to the winds and given herself to Adam. Something within had taken over, compelled her to kiss him, and after that, she was lost.

Amber sat up, fear chilling her heart. She had never been so completely out of control before. Adam had withdrawn early, so there could be no baby, no lasting evidence of her weakness, but what if it happened again? She must make sure it did not, or she would risk losing everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

She had been a widow for more than seven years, in charge of her own life, and this sudden vulnerability was terrifying. She had known nothing like it before. Amber had been fifteen when her mother died and she had stepped into her shoes, taking over the accounts and running the shop. It had not been difficult; she loved the business and as a child she had spent all her spare time in the warehouse, learning about the different fabrics, talking to the customers and accompanying her father on his business trips. She had soon realised that while her father was an excellent salesman, it was her mother who knew which fabrics to buy and how much to spend to keep the finances in order.

Amber had inherited her mother’s natural flair for business and she had hoped that her father would listen to her advice, that with a little economy they could make the savings and investments needed to expand. Instead, without his wife’s moderating influence, he had spent his money foolishly and within the year it was clear that the business would need substantial investment if it was to continue. Bernard Hall had been a gentleman by birth and knew nothing about trade, but he had had a little money which he was willing to invest. Amber knew now that she had been the bargaining tool her father had used to entice Bernard into partnership. She had resisted his advances for three years, but at eighteen she had given in to the pressure from Bernard and her father and become Mrs Hall.

It had not been a happy time. They had needed Bernard’s added investment to continue, but his strong, bullying personality had dominated her father and Amber had been obliged to watch the business she loved sinking further into decline. She had thought that by marrying Bernard she might have more influence, instead she had merely become his chattel, to be used or ignored, and any remonstrance had been met with a swift and violent rebuttal. He had constantly belittled her; she had been reduced to the role of a servant. Amber could admit now her relief when Bernard had died less than two years after their marriage. By then her father was a broken man and she had taken up the reins of the business, dragged it back from the brink of disaster and with steady perseverance she had built it up.

It had taken her years to recover from Bernard’s constant bullying and at the same time she had struggled against prejudice, customers and suppliers who thought that because she was a woman alone they could cheat her—or seduce her. They did not succeed and over the years she had grown stronger, more confident. Independent. She would not allow anything or anyone to prejudice her position.

So what was she doing here, lying with a man she hardly knew?

Adam sighed and rolled over, slipping one hand around her hips. Immediately her body responded, relishing the contact, the way he moulded himself against her. Amber tensed, trying to ignore the siren call of her own desire.

She felt his breath on her thigh.

‘Is anything wrong?’

Something close to panic engulfed her. She must not give in. She must not allow these new and terrifying feelings to possess her, to swallow her up. This man was a danger to everything she had lived and worked for. If she allowed him to take her in his arms again she would be lost. He must be set at a distance. Like a drowning man she clutched at the only lifeline she could see.

Summoning every ounce of resolution, she gave a careless laugh.

‘Wrong? No, of course not. But I have to get on. There is a lot to do here.’

Immediately he released her and she could not ignore the little stab of disappointment that he did not argue. She said brightly, ‘I have my business to think of, and you will be returning to Lancashire very soon, will you not?’

‘Tomorrow, if matters work out well for me.’

Amber nodded. How right she was to distance herself from him! Adam threw back the covers and got up.

‘Where are you going?’

He turned back to look down at her, a rueful smile quirking his mouth and setting loose a net full of butterflies in her stomach.

‘To get dressed. I cannot lie with you naked beside me and not make love to you. I think that would be beyond any man.’

She blushed. ‘No, of course.’

She watched him walk away to gather up his clothes and pick up his saddlebag. He moved gracefully; his naked body was lean and lithe in the morning light, like any hero should be. She was grateful he had been hers, if only for one night.

‘I will take myself over there,’ he said, pointing to a clump of bushes, ‘and allow you to dress here undisturbed.’

He disappeared into the green undergrowth and Amber hunted for her own garments. The sight of them scattered around reminded her of the passion that had made it necessary to divest herself of them so haphazardly last night. Her blood heated at the very thought of what they had done, but almost immediately she shivered.

Such wanton, abandoned behaviour was quite shocking. If anyone learned of it her reputation would be lost and her business would almost certainly be ruined. She did not think Adam would speak of it to anyone. She trusted him, even more than she trusted herself. Hurriedly she picked up her chemise and scrambled into it.

Adam shook out his clothes and sighed. They were dry, but sadly crumpled and muddy from their time in the river. He had a clean shirt and neck cloth in his saddlebag, but had not thought to pack anything else.

A rueful smile touched his lips. He had not expected to rescue a damsel in distress and get a soaking for his troubles! However, the night that had followed had been more than ample reward. His mind drifted to lying beneath the stars with Amber in his arms. His lack of control troubled him. It could only be the consequence of the fight: he knew from experience how one’s senses were heightened by a battle. The exhilaration of victory made men reckless. That would account for the immediate, overwhelming attraction he had felt for her. It was completely foreign to him, but then all his other battles had taken place at sea and by the time they had reached port his euphoria had died and the harlots on the quay had held no appeal for him. He told himself it would be no different with Mrs Amber Hall, in the light of a new day. They could go their separate ways and think no more of each other. Thank goodness he had withdrawn in time, and there could be no risk of an unwanted child to complicate matters.

He shrugged on his jacket and raked his fingers through his hair one final time. No, she would be dressed by now, that luscious dark hair scraped back into some semblance of order, and they would be able to treat each other as polite, distant acquaintances.

Unfortunately fate had one more joke to play on him. When Adam stepped back into the clearing he found Amber dressed only in her chemise and stockings, a frieze blanket pulled around her shoulders. She had pinned up her hair, but she looked so fragile, so forlorn, that it was as much as he could do not to run to her and fold her again in his arms. His voice was sharper than he anticipated when he asked her what was amiss.

She jumped. The forlorn look was replaced by a bright smile as she held up a complicated tangle of pink ribbons and webbing.

‘I think I will need you to lace up my stays again.’

His lips twitched.

‘That is not something I have ever done before.’

‘Then consider it part of your education, sir!’

Amber placed the corset around her and presented her back to him. She bit her lip as she felt his hands against her spine, so close, so personal, but she must act as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she was a woman of the world, used to a man’s touch.

‘There.’ He finished tying the laces and his hands moved to her shoulders, waking that traitorous demon of desire again.