Читать книгу Regency Vows: A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight - Julia London, Alison DeLaine - Страница 35

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KATHERINE SHUDDERED, GRIPPED by waves of pleasure so intense they entirely controlled her. She tried to think, tried to regain her senses, but they’d been lost—stolen, along with her breath.

She’d never known.

She closed her eyes and felt herself pulse around him tightly. Intimately. Felt him throb in reaction.

“Never known what?” he asked in a rough, throaty voice, and she realized with dismay she’d breathed the words out loud.

Another shudder, this one less intense. She opened her eyes, only to have her gaze land in the space between them where her bare breasts jutted out above her stays.

“Nothing,” she said, unwilling to let him know how much of what they had just done had been new. He expected her to be experienced—assumed she was, and there was no reason to let him suspect how little she really knew.

His hands closed possessively over her breasts, and his thumbs circled her nipples. The touch sent pure pleasure shooting down through her belly, straight to the place where their bodies were joined. His eyes were dark and on fire as he watched his hands move against her flesh. “Never known what?” he asked again.

Instead of answering, she inhaled deeply and let the breath push her breasts closer to him. The distraction worked. His mouth closed around one distended nipple and she let her head fall back again. The female breast, she’d learned, carried much power.

This is Captain Warre, a voice reminded her, as though it mattered anymore. Captain Warre. It didn’t matter. Soon enough he would be another part of her past. She would be married to Lord Deal, and there would be no reason to see Captain Warre again.

He didn’t have to know that here, in the privacy of her own thoughts, she had just given herself to him in a way she would never give herself to another man as long as she lived. This was for herself, and nobody could ever take it away from her.

It was enough. It would have to be.

Already she could feel him stirring inside her, and already her pleasure began to build again. He nipped her with his teeth, and she gasped. His touch, the fire between her legs—she may as well have been a virgin for all she’d known about passion. She tried rocking against him and had the satisfaction of hearing him groan against her breast. He moved inside her, suckling and thrusting at the same time, and she barely recognized her own ragged cry.

He may have been Captain Warre. But here, now, in the secrecy of her coach with his body joined with hers, he was simply James, and his passion was madness. She put her hands on his face. Traced the bridge of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones. With that unruly, silver-streaked hair, those green eyes, those arrogant brows—he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And he was inside her.

She felt his rough jaw beneath her palms and the soft give of his lips beneath her touch. Watched him take her fingertip into his mouth, felt his tongue circle it hotly while below he withdrew a little, then pushed deep, filling her completely. The penetration touched her very core.

His thrusts grew more powerful. Deeper. Faster. Instinctively she braced her knees into the seat cushion, lifting her hips and pushing herself down as he drove his shaft up. He let her finger go and used his mouth elsewhere to bruise her lips, bite her neck, ravage her breasts. She raked her fingers into that glorious hair, dug into those powerful shoulders. He commanded her now, despite everything, and the pure pleasure of him washed over her like waves crashing over a deck.

She heard herself whisper his name, then gasp it louder as the urgency began to build. It was happening—the pressure inside her that fought for release anew. He leaned his head back, and suddenly she was staring into those green eyes at the same time as she drove herself down on him.

“James—”

“Yes—” The word hissed from his lips. “Ah, Katherine.”

And then that explosion of bliss took her, only this time she was looking into his eyes when her body clenched around his throbbing erection, squeezing him so tight she could feel every pulse.

“Katherine,” he breathed again, the cords in his neck taut, his hands gripping her bottom. She could tell he hadn’t found his release again—not yet. He leaned forward, kissing her breasts, the base of her throat, the curve where her neck met her shoulder, where he nipped and suckled her skin until she gasped with the sting of it. He pulled her against him and kissed his way to her jaw, her ear. “Katherine, marry me,” he whispered into it.

Everything inside her went still. “What?”

He nipped her earlobe, played his hands over her bare buttocks, lightly stroking a finger over their cleft so that she could hardly think beyond the feathery touch. “Marry me,” he said again, this time against her lips. His tongue slipped between them, simulating the intimacy they still shared below.

Marry? Instinctively she twined her tongue around his, drinking the taste of him even as she grew keenly aware of the complete, utter way he possessed her—his tongue in her mouth, his arms around her body, his hard length buried between her thighs as she’d ridden him the way a ship rode a storm.

A ship can only have one captain...

And he was proving, at this precise moment, that he would be that captain. A sharp, painful regret lodged somewhere behind her heart. “No,” she said into his mouth.

His hands stilled on her buttocks. “Don’t be a fool, Katherine.” He kissed her again and groaned, and again his hands moved on her skin, his fingers seeking and finding that place where they were joined. “It would solve everything.” His voice was rough. Languid.

“Where one problem would be solved, a dozen more would appear.” It was hard to think with his tongue caressing her lips. “More the fool, you, for thinking anything different, Captain.”

His face turned to stone. “I won’t be ‘Captain’ to you—not anymore.” He looked at her with his eyes on fire.

James. She straddled him with his erection thick inside her, more vulnerable to him now than she’d been ten years ago when he’d let fly with his cannons. He didn’t understand, and he never would.

His gaze raked over her face, swept across her breasts and shot back to her eyes, unsatisfied. He began to move inside her, pushing up with a long, heavy stroke. “I want to hear my name on your lips, Katherine. Say it again.”

She did, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to repeat it two, five, ten times. Instead, she kissed him and met his thrusts with her hips.

After today there would be no reason to ever say his name at all.

* * *

THE MADDEST OF mad dashes from her carriage to the house should have been enough to protect her, but the clop and creak of a coach and four left no time for escape and Katherine knew, even as she rushed past Dodd so quickly she nearly knocked him over, that her tryst with James in the carriage was as good as discovered.

“Katherine!” Phil’s voice called out, still a few houses away.

Hang it all, Phil needed a quiet domestic hobby very, very badly. With a desperate tug Katherine pulled her cloak’s hood more tightly over her horribly dislodged hair and tried to make it up the stairs before Phil could get to the doorway.

“Katherine!”

Like a burglar caught in the act she froze on the landing and turned—just a little—as Phil swept past Dodd into the house. In the center of the entrance hall Phil stopped and looked up. “For heaven’s sake, Katherine, did you not hear me calling?”

The entire neighborhood had likely heard her calling. “What is it, Phil? I’m feeling ill and I need to lie down.”

“Dearest, of course you’re feeling ill. I heard what happened and I’ve called twice to see you already—did you not come directly home?” She came to the foot of the stairs. “Tell me you haven’t done anything rash.”

Katherine swallowed a hysterical laugh. The soft flesh between her thighs felt sweetly raw and damp, and her still-sensitive nipples pressed tightly inside her stays. Her entire body thrummed with sensations that nothing in her past—except that fiery encounter in her cabin—had prepared her for. Rash? No, she hadn’t done anything rash.

“I had to speak with Lord Deal,” she said.

“Not about marriage. Please tell me not about marriage.”

“About traveling to Scotland. Now please, Phil, I really do need a rest. My head aches like the devil.” She started up the second flight of stairs and hoped Phil would let her go. It was not to be.

“Something’s happened.”

“Of course something’s happened,” Katherine snapped. “I’ve been all but ordered to marry.” Good God, now Phil was climbing the stairs after her. “I told you my head aches and I need to rest before it’s time to dress for Lady Effy’s.” God help her, she didn’t know how she would meet James’s eyes tonight after what they’d done.

“What you need—” somehow Phil managed to fly up the stairs twice as quickly as Katherine “—is to tell me whatever you’re not telling me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rubbish.”

Pit her against a shipload of bloodthirsty corsairs, or a gale that pushed thirty-foot swells over her deck, and she had courage aplenty. But confess to Phil what she’d done in the carriage? That was another matter entirely. She strode toward her rooms as though they would provide some kind of safety.

“Are you all right?” Phil asked, all concern as, naturally, she followed Katherine into her dressing room. “Have you been crying?”

“Certainly not.” Blast it all, the looking glass on the dressing table was right there, letting Phil see her face. She turned, but there was nowhere to hide.

“Are you sure? Katherine, your hair! I can see from here that it’s—”

“Enough!” Katherine turned, finally facing Phil. Anger surged through her but fizzled into something weak and soft and suddenly she feared maybe she would cry.

Marry me, Katherine. Oh, God.

“I got caught in a gust of wind,” she explained, removing her hood. It sounded reasonable enough. “One of those powerful blasts that comes up between buildings.”

Phil raised a brow. “Powerful enough to fling a bit of debris against your neck and leave a mark?” She came forward until their skirts touched, searched Katherine’s face, and looked Katherine right in the eye. “You’ve taken a lover, Katherine, and if it was Lord Deal I shall run you through with your very own cutlass.”

“Devil take you.” Katherine turned away and wrenched open one button on her cloak, then another. “It’s you that ought to be run through.” The looking glass proved that sure enough, there was a tiny red mark where her neck curved into her shoulder. “I must have scratched myself.”

“Your lips are swollen.”

“Nerves. I’ve been chewing on them all morning.”

“Your cheeks are red and abraded.”

“Did I not just tell you I got caught in a gust?”

“Your dress is torn.”

“It isn’t!” Katherine frowned into the reflection. Good God, it was. Right there—right above her breasts, a bit of trim had torn away and hung limply down. Warily she met Phil’s knowing eyes in the looking glass.

“Captain Warre,” Phil guessed.

Oh, God. Phil’s softening expression brought the full weight of reality bearing mercilessly down. The urge to tell Phil everything—the lovemaking, the proposal—came up hard and fast. She swallowed it whole.

Phil came up behind her and brushed a fallen lock from Katherine’s shoulder. A line creased between her delicate brows. “He didn’t hurt you...”

Katherine shook her head and thought of Mejdan. He hadn’t hurt her, either. But that was where the similarity ended.

“Quite the opposite, I suspect,” Phil said with a little smile. “But tell me—the hearing ended not two hours ago. How can you have returned from his bed so quickly?”

Katherine’s face warmed.

Phil laughed, soft and comprehending. “Ah, the carriage. I should have known. My, but he’s clever. And impatient. But I suppose there will be plenty of time to explore the joys of a bed after the wedding.”

Katherine turned from her and went to the window. “You of all people cannot possibly believe that I would marry Captain Warre.” She imagined exploring the joys of a bed with him every night as his wife, and her heart squeezed so hard she couldn’t breathe. No limpstaff, he.

“Katherine, don’t be a fool!” Phil cried, following. “If not him, then who? Good God, you are thinking of Lord Deal.”

She could not belong to James and still belong to herself, and one captivity in a lifetime was enough. Lord Deal was someone she could control. “The union makes sense.”

“For a woman of mature years who isn’t already in love with another man! You cannot possibly believe this will make you happy. For heaven’s sake, Katherine—” Something in the street caught her attention. “Someone’s coming to the door.” A figure in a gray woolen cloak was painstakingly making its way up the walk below. “Katherine, I think it’s Millicent!”

Katherine recognized her the moment the words left Phil’s mouth. She spun away and strode out of the dressing room with Phil in her wake. For Millie to have returned here after the way she left meant something must have gone very badly. A dozen possibilities hurtled through her mind as she hurried down the main staircase as quickly as damnable fashion would allow, leaving the topic of her folly with James behind. They had reached the main landing when Dodd led Millicent into the foyer, where she pushed her hood onto her shoulders and clutched Dodd’s arm, nearly collapsing against him.

“Millicent!” Katherine called out. She ran forward, already seeing the dark bruises covering Millicent’s face. One side of her face was puffy, giving her a grotesquely asymmetrical appearance. “Who did this?” A deep fury rose up, making her words come out like barks.

“Gavin,” Millicent breathed through a lip that was swollen and cracked.

Gavin, her brother. The physician. If he were here, she would put Gavin beyond any physician’s help. “Get two footmen to carry her upstairs,” Katherine ordered. “Quickly. Call for a doctor and ring for Mrs. Hibbard. Have her bring soup and a compress.”

“Right away, your ladyship.” Dodd hurried away, and within moments two young men from the mews rushed into the foyer. Upstairs, Katherine directed them to the room Millicent had occupied before she’d left, and by the time they laid her across it she had lost consciousness.

Immediately Katherine began pulling at Millicent’s clothes. “I will kill him.”

“We’ll do it together,” Phil said, moving in to help. There were more bruises on Millie’s arms and chest, and Katherine heard Phil breathe a prayer.

“I should have stopped her,” Katherine said.

Phil tugged at a sleeve, freeing Millie’s arm. “You know better than to think you could have, stubborn as she is.”

“I could have ordered her to stay.”

“And she would have defied you. We’re not on the ship anymore.”

And Millicent would scarce have listened to her even if they had been. But the bruises and cuts were horrible, and the blood— “Perhaps she would have been better off in Malta,” Katherine said in despair.

“Now you’re being ridiculous. Even if she was admitted to that school in disguise, it would take nothing more than a man determined to avail himself of what he thought was some fresh, male flesh to discover the truth, and then she would be out. She would have fallen into prostitution within the week.” Phil peeled away one stocking, then the other, revealing more bruises on Millie’s legs. “The bastard ought to be skinned alive and hung on a pole.”

Mrs. Hibbard whisked into the room followed by a maid who set down a tray with a teapot, soup tureen, cups and bowls. The maid left, and Mrs. Hibbard bustled to the bed. “It’s a terrible, terrible thing, this. I’ve got compresses, but little good they’ll do for all this. Lord above.” Her soft, round face was pinched and angry. “Whoever done this ought to have twice as much done to him.” She laid a compress across Millie’s black eye and another across a nasty bruise on her shoulder, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Millicent would need a compress for her entire body. “I’ll go make up some more,” Mrs. Hibbard said, shaking her head. “Let’s hope the doctor gets here right quick.”

A hole opened up in Katherine’s chest as she stared at Millicent’s battered body. “I’ll never let her out of my sight again.”

“She’ll be delighted to hear that, I’m sure. She’s a grown woman, Katherine.”

“She’s not yet twenty.” And her time aboard the Possession may have sturdied up her muscles, but she was still short, and slightly built, and more delicate than a country physician’s daughter should be.

“Which is plenty old enough to be acquainted with the ways of the world,” Phil pointed out. “She’s not as delicate as she looks, Katherine. You know that. She’s got the spirit of ten sailors.”

“Which didn’t save her from this.”

“But it will.” Phil reached for Katherine’s hand. “She’ll survive this. I know she will.”