At least he had been honest with her from the beginning. He had told her he didn't want or need her. And how had she repaid his honesty? By throwing herself at him.
She was mortified. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was beginning to act like a wife. No wonder he went running for safety.
Taylor let out a loud groan, rolled over, and pulled the covers up. She vowed to apologize to Lucas first thing in the morning and promise him he wouldn't have to deal with her curiosity again. She fell asleep minutes later. She dreamed about him.
He had nightmares about her. He woke up in a cold sweat. Remnants of the godawful dream still lingered in his mind. Taylor was trapped inside a cave. He went in after her, but just as he was reaching for her, the walls and the ceiling came crashing down around the two of them. Air suddenly turned into dirt. They couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He was desperate to get her out before she died… like the others.
In his sleep, Lucas's mind blended two nightmares together. One was real, the other imaginary. The others who had magically appeared in the cave with Taylor were soldiers he had known and befriended, comrades, who had been led, just as he'd been led, into a deadly trap by their own superior officer. Major John Caulder sold out what was left of his unit to save his own hide. Cowardice wasn't his only motive, however. Greed was also involved. Like Judas, his treachery was richly rewarded and for an amount far greater than thirty pieces of silver. Caulder personally confiscated a large share of a shipment of gold he was supposed to be protecting.
Lucas was the only man who survived, though only because the renegades told Caulder they were certain all nine men were dead. The major was a worrier, however. It wasn't enough that a bullet had been shot into each man's back. He wanted to be certain no one was still breathing. He had his career to protect, to say nothing of his neck, and he didn't want anything to mar his brilliant, blemish-free military record.
No, he wasn't about to take any chances. He didn't want anyone sniffing out the truth after the war was over. And so he did what any meticulous man would do. He buried the evidence.
The shout of rage building in the back of Lucas's throat woke him up. Sweat was pouring down from his brow and he was gasping for air. His mind was quick to clear, and with it his rage, but he still spent several minutes pacing the deck until the tightness inside his chest eased up.
He was accustomed to having nightmares about the war. Finding Taylor in the middle of his dream was another matter altogether. How in God's name had that happened? He wasn't worried about her. He knew she was all right, yet even though he was certain she was sound asleep down in their stateroom, he needed to look in on her just to make certain.
She didn't stir when he walked into the room. She was sleeping on her back with her hair spread out like a golden halo all around her head. She looked angelic, serene, peaceful. She was probably dreaming about afternoon teas and handsome suitors. Damn but he almost envied her. Demons always filled his dreams. He and Taylor were complete opposites in every way imaginable, and perhaps that was why he was drawn to her. She represented warmth and sunlight to a man who'd been denied both for long, long years.
Lucas stood by the side of the bed and stared down at her for several minutes. He couldn't seem to make himself leave. He knew she would be disgusted by the very sight of him if she knew about his background. In the name of war and honor, he had done unspeakable things in order to survive.
He shook his head. He didn't want to fight the temptation any longer. The lure of her innocence and her purity was too powerful to turn his back on. He didn't even try. He sat down, took off his boots and his socks, and then stretched out next to her. She scooted closer to him. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and closed his eyes.
He was sound asleep a minute later.
God proved merciful. The demons left him alone.
Chapter 5
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
—William Shakespeare,
Promptness wasn't one of Taylor's attributes. Lucas waited for well over an hour for her to join him up on deck. He had plenty of time to think about the night before. Whatever had possessed him to get in bed with her? What weakness drove him to take her into his arms and hold her close? He didn't ever remember sleeping so soundly or so peacefully. It was galling. And damned confusing to him. He let out a sigh then. Thank God he awakened when he did. He remembered being sprawled on top of her sweet, warm, soft body and immediately forced himself to stop thinking about it. She hadn't awakened and that was all that mattered.
He wanted to get going. He ran out of patience and was just about to go down below and drag her off the ship when she came hurrying up the stairs.
She looked flustered, worried, and lovely. She wore a pale pink dress that had tiny white threads embroidered into rose buds along the high, square-necked bodice. The color of the gown complemented her skin, and Lucas thought she was probably the most feminine thing he'd ever seen.
He let out a sigh that sounded very like a growl of a bear and frowned at her.
She smiled back. She assumed her tardiness was the reason behind his irritation. She apologized for making him wait, all the while looking around the deck for Victoria. Her friend was nowhere to be found. Since most of the passengers had already left the ship, Taylor decided Victoria must be waiting for them wherever the luggage had been deposited. She'd already gone to Victoria's cabin to make certain she wasn't waiting for her there, but the cabin was empty.
"I'm very anxious to step on American ground," she remarked.
"Could have fooled me," he replied. He latched onto her arm and turned to leave.
The remark he'd just made was an obvious jab because she'd made him wait. Taylor ignored his sarcasm and turned her attention to the harbor.
At first glance, the city skyline reminded her of London, though on a larger scale. She noticed almost immediately one primary difference between the two cities, however. London always had a gray film looming over her buildings. The sky above Boston was pristine clean, or so it seemed to her.
Taylor didn't say another word to Lucas until they reached the luggage carts. She was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of her new homeland, she could barely form a coherent thought. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to all the vastly different accents and try to guess the name of the country each had come from. So many different foreign languages soon blended together, however, and she gave up her game. She tried then to look everywhere at once. There was so much to see and to explore, so much…
"Taylor, will you pay attention to what I'm telling you?"
She finally looked up at him. "Isn't it wonderful, Lucas?"
The wonder in her voice made him smile. "Boston?"
"America," she qualified.
He nodded. "You've yet to see America," he told her. "But you'll like living in Boston. It's very cosmopolitan," he added. "Very much like London."
"I already like Boston, but I don't want it to be anything like London."
After making that statement, she turned her attention to the chaos surrounding her. Lucas stared down at her for several minutes. When he realized what he was doing, he became disgusted with himself. He was acting like a besotted farm boy, but damn it all, it was her fault.
She was an enchantress all right. He was certain she was deliberately enticing him with that come-and-kiss-me smile of hers. The way she brushed her fingers through her hair and tossed her head back was a definite provocation meant to attract him. Even the way she looked up at him with those magical blue eyes and that trusting look on her face was meant to capture his full attention.