Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2) Read Free

retrieved it. Perhaps focusing on the Richmond Enquirer would push the thought of Morgan from her mind.
    The American paper proved a pleasant diversion for Merry. It was several months old, but after months at sea, the news came to her new. The American campaign against British Canada had failed miserably. There were stirringly patriotic stories of local young men having joined the Virginia militia, and the pages were thick with advertisements unlike any she had ever seen. There were editorials advising the citizenry not to purchase smuggled British goods, and others counseling against the recklessness of a growing American debt.
    The clock chimed two before Merry rolled over for sleep. It had not occurred to her until she doused the candle that she had purposely stayed awake waiting for Morgan. His absence was more than a little distressing, since she did not doubt he was with a woman. He did not care for her at all. Why else would he bring her to America to leave her? Turning her face into the pillow, she cried herself to sleep.
    ~~~
    Merry came awake slowly to the sound of rain, the heaviness of something around her, and the feeling of something moving slowly beneath her cheek. With disbelieving senses, she realized Morgan had returned in the night, the warmth beneath the sheets came from his body, and the movement beneath her cheek was his chest as he breathed.
    Alarmed with herself, she pulled quickly back from him, slipping free of the arm that held her. Climbing from the bed, she took several steps away before she turned back to look at him.
    She wondered if the day would ever come when she could look at him without feeling heat rise through her body. He was a beautiful man when the softness of sleep held his face, and she wondered what it would feel like to lay at his side and feel him slowly stir. Brushing her suddenly warm cheeks with icy fingers, she wondered what was wrong with her this day, indulging, what was at best, dangerous fantasies.
    A quiet knock on the door sent Merry to find a serving girl. Her manner was friendly, a little overly curious of Merry, and definitely overly curious over Morgan’s slumbering magnificence. But, practical and of sturdy service, she set a large breakfast tray on the table and quickly went to stoke the fire.
    Giving Merry a smile, she slipped out through the door with a careful turn of the knob, obviously trying not to wake the Captain. The girl succeeded in making Morgan roll over in bed and he lie now in her spot left vacant.
    Taking advantage of Morgan’s sleep, Merry dressed in a cameo-pink satin dress. Cursing herself a fool, she took out the ribbon and, after a thorough brushing, tied back her hair with it. And then to her further exasperation, she pulled out a dainty pair of beaded slippers, never worn, and delicately made calfskin gloves.
    The full-length glass showed her the subtly elegant details of the back of the gown, how it hugged her hips and interestingly swayed with her moves. The gown was highly stylish and flattering in every way, and she couldn’t make reason of why she had finally tried it on, on a day like today.
    Of all the clothes he had bought her in Bermuda—and it was an impressive wardrobe, and she could not have selected a single gown half as well as he—it was the simpler gowns she preferred and always wore. The gown in cameo-pink was unlike her, but more unlike her was the pleasure she felt in knowing she looked pretty.
    Curling in a chair at the table, she poured a cup of tea and began to pick at her breakfast. They were a day’s ride from Richmond. What would become of her there?
    Almost in concert with her thoughts, Morgan woke. He rose from the bed and, while she noted he still thankfully wore his breeches, regrettably he was shirtless. Sucking in her breath, she tried not to stare, and tried equally hard to remain composed as he crossed the room to join her at the table.
    He said, “Good, I see you’ve dressed.”
    Whatever Morgan