Читать книгу The Wilder Wedding - Lyn Stone - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Laura swept into his apartment and did a quick pirouette around his drawing room. She sailed her wide-brimmed hat at the window and began tugging off her gloves. “Oh, Sean, this is wonderful! All browns, greens and brass. So masculine, just perfect for you.

“Oh look!” She scooped up the open sketch pad he had left on the divan. “You draw, too! I love to draw. I knew we had things in common. You’re very good,” she said, examining the picture he had done of an old man who ran a paper stall down the street.

He took the book from her and snapped it shut. “Sometimes I use it for work. Sketches help to locate people on occasion. Things such as that. Just picked it up, no formal training or anything. It’s nothing much.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “False modesty doesn’t become you at all. Tell the truth, you enjoy it. It shows in the work, Sean.”

He nodded and smiled shyly at her praise. “I suppose I do. Do you always say exactly what you feel, Laura?”

She considered that for a moment. “Yes, why shouldn’t I? Honesty’s very important to me.”

“The most important thing,” he agreed. “Though I encouraged those ridiculous rumors about my parentage, doing so was more of a private joke than any deliberate falsehood. Tweaking London’s nose, so to speak.” He framed her face with his hands. “I vow never to lie to you, Laura. About anything. I value truth above everything. It is so very hard to come by.”

His seriousness was not lost on her. “Then you shall always have it from me, Sean. Always.”

He suddenly looked so sad she couldn’t bear it. Laura wondered whose dishonesty had affected him so profoundly. And how quickly could she erase the memory? With one hand, she brushed a windblown lock off his brow and smiled up at him.

“Have you a kitchen? I can cook!”

“No.” He took her by the shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes as though looking for something hidden. “No kitchen.”

Laura sighed, totally entranced by the power of his gaze. “You have eyes like spring leaves, Sean. I do love the spring.”

He laughed softly, his head moving back and forth. “Laura, Laura, I don’t quite know what to make of you.”

“Make me a wife, then. No point in delaying. Show me what to do.” The thought of lying in his arms sent heat streaking through her body. She felt slightly dizzy from it and prayed she wouldn’t swoon. That would frighten him off for certain.

With a soft curse, he firmly set her away from him and covered his face with one hand. “Damn! Give me a moment here, will you?”

She gave him a moment. The silence grew so loud she couldn’t bear it. “Does it put you off, then? My illness, I mean. You really don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. Just being married is quite—”

He whirled abruptly and kissed her. Laura felt her thoughts dissolve and sizzle like butter in a saucepan. She opened her mouth when he urged it, and took him in with a greediness that shocked her. He tasted faintly of sweet coffee and something uniquely male. Overwhelmingly male. God, how delicious! His tongue demanded a response and she gave it, meeting his determined forays with eager inexperience and delight. Her breasts swelled against their binding silks, begging more pressure from the stiff brocade of his waistcoat.

When he finally released her mouth, Laura realized her knees had given way completely. She hung in his embrace like a puppet cut loose of its strings.

His harsh breath rushed out against her ear. One large hand gripped the base of her neck and the other cupped her just below her ruched-up bustle.

She could feel a taut ridge of muscle pressed firmly to her front. Well, at least he wasn’t too put off, she thought with purely female satisfaction.

“What comes next?” she gasped.

With a groan of exasperation, he swept her up in his arms and sat down on the divan. “We have to talk,” he said, settling her on his lap.

Those wonderful hands of his stroked up and down her arms. She supposed that was meant to calm her. Ha! “No, we don’t need talking,” she argued, seeking his mouth again. She felt starved for him, and so very much alive it hurt.

He turned his head to avoid the kiss. “Yes, we do! Wait a moment!” His breathing slowed to nearly normal as she waited. “Now then,” he said, and cleared his throat. “About your luggage—”

“Bother the luggage. It’s not going anywhere.” She tugged on his tie, watching the bow unravel.

“Laura, I’m warning you. Behave yourself!” Sean admonished sharply, and pushed her far enough away to see her face. “Look, everything’s happening too damned fast. I need time to think. There are things we need to consider…to plan.”

Laura reached up, cradling his face with both hands. “No,” she said gruffly. “Plans require a future, Sean. Do you understand that? There is only here and now. This moment. If you can’t bring yourself to do this, just say so and I shall get up. If you can, then for heaven’s sake, please do it!”

Sean leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. “This seems wrong, Laura. We’ve only known each other less than a day.”

“A lifetime,” she whispered as she turned her head to meet his lips. He surrendered with a tortured groan.

She tried to record his every touch, every nuance of his heated kisses, every word fragment that passed his busy lips. No use, she decided, and abandoned herself to the sweeping fire he ignited.

How had they gotten from the divan to his bed? She gasped at the feel of silk sliding off her hips. The rustle of his clothing sounded like the sweetest music in the world.

Suddenly the muscled, hair-roughened texture of his bare chest brushed over her own soft curves. Lips blazed a path down her neck, across her chest, and settled on a tightened peak of need. Her breath hissed in through her teeth. His palm glided over her knee and trailed up her inner thigh. Anticipation immediately lost its appeal. She wanted him now.

“Open, sweetheart,” he whispered, tasting her ear. “There now,” he crooned as his fingers worked magic. “Hot, you are so incredibly hot! Feel that. Do you like?”

“Mmm. I like,” she agreed, arching into his hand. “Yes!” When she thought she could stand no more, he stopped. Laura would have pleaded if she’d had a voice left.

“I know, I know,” he soothed as he rose above her. “You might not like this part,” he warned softly. “Try to relax. Let go.”

She felt his male part nudge her gently and automatically lifted herself toward it.

“Steady now,” he said, thrusting gently, seating himself more firmly against her tight resistance. Then he plunged.

Laura struggled to get even closer, but he held her immobile with the weight of his body and his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t rush me. You’ll regret it,” he murmured, and claimed her mouth again.

Tenderly at first, then growing insistent, his tongue invaded, moving in and out rhythmically, until her entire being focused solely on that act. Before she knew it, his lower body echoed the motion. How wonderfully pleasant, she thought, feeling herself join the intimate dance he created.

Pleasant quickly escalated to sublime with the marvelous friction inside her. Laura groaned into his mouth, wishing he would hurry. She didn’t understand her urgency, didn’t care at this point, but he seemed to sense her need and increased the pace to a fever pitch.

“Ah, now!” he rasped as the first shudder of ecstasy shook her. The rippling force of pure pleasure sent her flying into a void of star-studded nothingness. Everythingness, she corrected with a shaky last thought.

When feeling returned, she opened one eye. Sean lay plastered to her side, muscles glistening with sweat, his chest heaving with exertion. Spent. Laura smiled. “Better than talking, hmm?”

He grunted a soft laugh and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. “Better than anything.”

She couldn’t say when she drifted off to sleep, but when she woke it was to the smell of food. He had anticipated her hunger. Known what she needed before she even realized it, just as he had last evening. And he didn’t waste a moment. The idea that Sean would go to such lengths to please her warmed her heart. What a husband! No one could ever say Laura Middlebrook Wilder hadn’t made at least one truly excellent decision in her lifetime.

“Thank you, God.” She closed her eyes and whispered with a grin. “I don’t think I’m quite so angry with You anymore.”

Sean hefted the tray onto his left palm and entered the bedroom. The newly arrived letter in his pocket rustled as he turned to close the door. This one, delivered right to his rooming house, bothered him more than the one sent to his office. Prepare to die, it said. Someone—very probably Luckhurst—was toying with him. But he couldn’t concern himself with that right now. The writer of the dratted things would surely give up the game by the time Sean had finished his business in Paris.

If the fool meant to frighten him, Sean could almost laugh at the pitiful effort. For the past ten years, he had lived daily with danger that bore no forewarning at all. His first ten years of life had been much the same. Worse, really, due to lack of training to deal with the perils he encountered. Watching his back became second nature, a way of life. These little scare tactics didn’t unnerve him in the least. But they did present a bothersome puzzle, and puzzles distracted him from more important matters.

He would have to dismiss the letters. Just forget them. Today he had a greater puzzle, a distraction and an important matter all rolled into one. A wife.

Sean smiled at the sight greeting him as he entered the bedroom. Laura nestled amid the pillows with the sheet tucked just beneath her arms. Her smile shamed sunshine and was, thank God, not so rare.

“Food!” he announced as he carefully set the tray on the bed beside her. “Don’t fidget, sweetheart. You’ll spill the tea.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, snatching up a fat sugared biscuit. Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she chewed. The blue gray eyes rolled with pleasure.

He had to laugh. “Such a greedy child!” Had he ever seen anyone so gluttonous for every moment’s worth of joy?

Recalling the reason for her hedonism sobered him immediately. She never knew just how many moments she had left. Laura could only be certain of this particular one.

“Such a gloomy face!” she admonished, drawing her brows together. “Don’t frown so. It puts lines between your eyes.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he said, tapping her nose with his finger.

She choked down the food and took a swallow of her tea. “When do we leave?”

“Two hours,” he told her. “We must be at Dover by this evening. I sent to the hotel for your things. They should arrive directly. Will you need a maid?”

“Never had one. Will you need a valet?” she teased.

Sean grinned at the thought of having someone dress him. Now someone—this particular someone—undressing him was a different matter altogether. No time for that now, unfortunately. He handed her a sausage. “Silly widgeon. Finish your breakfast while I draw your bath.”

He left her tucking into the substantial plate of bangers and eggs he had requested from the kitchen downstairs. The announcement of his sudden marriage had prompted instant motherly attention from his landlady and her staff. Until this morning, he had only been the object of curiosity and gossip who hardly rated a wary word of greeting now and then. Now he was “the young bridegroom.”

Falling fully into the role certainly tempted him. There was nothing he’d have liked better than to crawl back into that bed and spend the day with “the young bride.” He couldn’t recall ever having held a more responsive woman in his arms. She made love the way she did everything else, full steam ahead and damn the consequences. The mere thought of her enthusiasm had his body thrumming even now.

He turned on the tap in the huge, claw-foot tub and tested the temperature of the water with the back of his hand.

The timing of this unexpected honeymoon could be worse, he supposed. What if he were embarking on a case involving a life-threatening situation? There had certainly been a wealth of those, not that he minded. Danger proved addictive. He thrived on that sort of job and it was what he did best. For the past few years, Sean admitted, the adventures held far more appeal than the rewards. This coming endeavor, however, only relied on his keen eye for deception and his solid reputation as a reliable courier.

Working for Burton was child’s play, a holiday in fact. This time he only had to verify the authenticity of a painting. If genuine, he would complete the deal for Mr. Burton, director of the National Gallery, bring the picture home, and that would be that. No rush, no danger, large fee. Not that he needed the money particularly, but one never had too much of that commodity.

Laura would be disappointed when he told her about the tame task, he thought with a smile. After his warning of possible danger, she would be geared up for murder and mayhem. Her thirst for adventure would be amusing under different circumstances.

His heart contracted painfully every time he thought of Laura dying. How could he bear to watch that bright little light blink out? The world would seem a dismal place without it now that he knew her. She touched him, threw his senses awry in some way he couldn’t quite fathom; had done so from the moment he had first seen her. Innocence, he supposed. Something he’d had so little experience with in his twenty-eight years. Surprising he even recognized it at all.

This whole affair seemed unreal. The hasty wedding, the lovemaking, and letting her accompany him to Paris were all so uncharacteristically impulsive of him. He could scarcely believe he had allowed any of it. For a man who planned every move he made with the precision of a well-oiled machine, Sean knew he had slipped an important gear somewhere along the line.

In his early life, quick decisions had equaled survival. But later, he had learned to consider the long-term effect—weigh all his options, however briefly—before he acted. For the first time since the wedding, he forced himself to stop and think exactly where all this might lead.

Laura had given him no time to plan or consider or project. Because she had so little time to give. So little time.

Steam from the bath made him sniff. Surely that was what caused his eyes to water this way. He shut off the faucet and brushed a hand over his face. Laura Middlebrook had blown into his life like a whirlwind. She stirred up feelings he thought he had eliminated, and some he hadn’t known existed at all. How did he think he could direct events toward a satisfactory future? Laura would not have one. God, how that thought hurt. It shouldn’t bother him this much. He, of all people, knew there were things worse than death. He’d even told Laura as much. Cruel truth.

But he had never met anyone as alive as Laura. He must be out of his mind to admit such a thing, even to himself, but he could love this woman, was probably half in love with her already. After letting down his guard and risking it that once with Ondine, love only equaled disaster as far as Sean was concerned. It ripped away all the hard-earned control over his life as though it were wet tissue paper. He needed control the way he needed air to breathe. How could he possibly surrender that again?

Despite their recent betrothal, Camilla Norton’s subsequent desertion had not affected him much. Not in the least, except for the small dent to his pride. He would suffer a great deal more than that with Laura’s leaving, unless he took immediate charge of things.

If he continued down this road with her, the outcome could only be total devastation. After Ondine’s untimely death, he’d had fury at her betrayal to sustain him. Even then, the pain of loving her and losing her had almost destroyed him. He had rebuilt the wall inside himself once. He didn’t think he could do it again. This time he would be left with nothing but soul-deep grief. There would be no saving anger to draw on. Nothing.

The only prudent course was evident. He had to back away from her now, to distance himself from what would continue to grow between them if he allowed it. Given his upbringing, Sean knew he was as well versed in sex as any male on the planet. But with Laura, sex was not just sex. It was a mutual giving, a bonding of spirits he had never encountered before in his life, even with Ondine. And Sean realized that the physical union would only strengthen his love for Laura into a veritable necessity he could not live without.

He could never abandon Laura, however. She was his wife now and needed protection and support, certainly more than most wives did. But he must discontinue their intimacy before his need for her grew to unmanageable proportions.

How to do that would take some planning in itself. Denying her anything would be damned difficult, next to impossible, but he knew the alternative would prove worse. Loving her fully, without reservation, and then watching her die would tear the heart right out of his chest. A living death.

“I’m ready,” she said from the doorway.

Sean pushed up from the edge of the tub, hardly daring to look at her, unable not to. She stood gloriously naked but for the sheet loosely draped over one shoulder, the dark satin of her hair wound in a precarious loop on top of her head. The invitation in her smoky eyes set him afire. Acceptance almost fought its way out of him despite his recent and very firm resolution. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he skirted around her, muttering something inane about seeing to his packing.

It was a narrow escape. The first of many, he predicted.

“No one in the world needs this many clothes,” Sean growled as he hefted a leather-bound trunk off the dock. A huffing porter struggled with the other.

Laura laughed and stepped aside and out of his way. “Of course they don’t. Where’s the fun in buying only what one needs? I’m afraid I did reduce your future inheritance considerably this past week, however.”

Sean shot her a dark look.

She wondered why he resented it so whenever she mentioned her legacy. Pride, perhaps. His mood would lighten once he had loaded the baggage and they settled in for the crossing.

Laura left him to it and went to grasp the forward rail. France was out there. She even imagined she could see it, a faint gray line, probably the point near Calais. Perhaps what she saw were only swells of waves. Excitement skipped through her veins like little fairies. By late tomorrow they would be in Paris, City of Light. How she had dreamed of such places.

“Should be a fair enough crossing,” Sean remarked as he joined her, that hoped-for smile in place. “Are you a good sailor, Laura?”

“Yes!” she answered immediately, thinking of the little sail boat she and Lambdin kept on the pond. “Oh, I can’t wait, Sean! My insides are fluttering like the seabirds.” She pointed up at the dizzying flock of gulls that circled the wharf.

He chuckled. “Be still, widgeon. You’re rocking the boat.”

“Don’t be silly. This thing’s a ship. ‘Twould take a gale to rock it.” She drew in a huge draft of the damp, salty sea breeze and sighed it out. Huge arms surrounded her and she leaned back against his solid chest, covering his hands with hers. “I feel so happy, Sean. So very happy, just at this moment.”

Again he laughed, the rumble vibrating through her back and settling around her heart. “We haven’t even done anything yet,” he reminded her.

She tugged loose and turned to face him. “But we have, Sean. Think of it! In the space of twenty-four hours, I’ve become your wife,” she said, feeling the blush color her cheeks, “and embarked on yet another exciting adventure! Will you show me Paris? Will we have the time?”

“I will make the time,” he declared, brushing his hand down her face to cup her chin. “You shall see everything there is to see. The Tuileries, Bonaparte’s Tomb, the Arch, the Louvre. All of it.”

“What else? What else? Tell me more!” she demanded with an impatient bounce.

He shook his head. “Isn’t that enough? Oh, all right, then, how’s this? The tallest structure in the known world, three hundred meters. Will that do? There is this tower in the middle of the city, built for the Exposition.”

“Oh, I read of that,” she said excitedly. “It’s costing them millions!”

“In francs, yes,” he agreed. “But I’m afraid it’s too ugly to thrill you much.”

“No, no, I shall love it,” she said, shaking her head. The mist-dampened feather on her hat drooped across one eye.

“Let’s get you inside before you’re completely soaked. I think the wind is picking up.”

In her excitement, Laura hadn’t even noticed they had gotten under way. Obediently she accompanied him to the cabin where they could pass the short trip in comfort.

Half an hour later, she dashed out and back to the rail. Sean held her fast as she leaned over and lost her breakfast and luncheon. When her stomach had collapsed in on itself, she drooped in his arms and rested against him.

“It’s too soon,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut against her disappointment. “I thought it would be all right…but I don’t want to…go yet.”

His arms tightened around her, one hand pressing her now-hatless head against his chest and the other holding her whole body snug against his. “You’re not going anywhere!” he snapped furiously. “You hear me? Not anywhere but to France. To see Paris. To dance away the night. To laugh and eat beignets, drink café au lait, the best champagne….”

“Oh, God, don’t speak of food!” She pushed him away and retched again.

He enfolded her more softly this time. “This is only seasickness, Laura. You won’t die of it, I promise, no matter how you feel at the moment.”

Somehow she didn’t quite believe him. From the desperate way he held her and the tone of his voice, he must not quite believe it, either.

For the remainder of the crossing, Laura lay cocooned in a blanket Sean had secured from one of the stewards, expecting to breathe her last at any moment. By the time they reached Calais, she found herself embracing the thought. Anything would be better than the misery she endured.

“I’ll send for a doctor, darling,” Sean whispered against her ear as they disembarked. He carried her in his arms toward one of the waiting carriages for hire.

“First we’ll go to a hotel and get you to bed.”

Laura allowed herself to doze in the carriage. She felt the sick dizziness subside a bit when he deposited her on a cushioned armchair near the innkeeper’s desk. “Sean?” she called when he started to step away from her to register.

“Yes?” he answered immediately, hurrying back to kneel beside her and take her hands in his. “What is it?” The sharp concern on his face made her smile.

“I feel much better. The sickness seems to be fading.” In fact, she felt a bit hungry. “Do you think we could order up some tea? Maybe a few salted biscuits?” Laura watched his wide shoulders droop with what she suspected was relief.

“Anything,” he answered on a protracted sigh. “Whatever you want. Will you be all right here for a moment?”

She nodded and smiled again, putting more energy into it than she really felt. Perhaps she would have a reprieve after all, another day to enjoy. During the few moments it took Sean to arrange for a room, she recovered completely. Nothing of her illness remained save a bit of weakness in her knees when she first stood alone. She insisted, over Sean’s objection, that she could manage the stairs to their rooms on her own two feet.

When the doctor arrived, he caught Laura with her mouth full of savory chicken stew. “Good day to you, Madame Wilder,” he greeted her. The newness of the address thrilled her into a happy grin.

“The mal de mer abates, oui?” He continued, “I am Dr. Louis Grillet, at your service.”

Laura swallowed again and held out her hand. The handsome rascal kissed it! Lingeringly. She shot a glance at Sean. He was frowning ominously at the physician’s gesture. Lord, he looked jealous.

“Enchanté,” she announced sweetly just to further gauge her husband’s reaction. He stepped nearer. If the doctor had not been leaning against her bedside already, Laura thought Sean might have pushed between them.

Something inside her did cartwheels, and it had nothing to do with her formerly unsettled stomach. “You were kind to come so quickly,” she said to Dr. Grillet, “but it looks as though I don’t need you after all. As you can see, I am fine. Appetite restored,” she said pointing toward her half-empty tray of food, “and no lingering effects. I suspect my husband and I may have overreacted.”

“Perhaps a more thorough examination is in order, nonetheless,” Grillet suggested with a sly smile. “If you would wait outside, Monsieur Wilder?”

“I think not,” Sean growled menacingly. “If she says she is fine, then she is fine.” He handed the doctor several bills, neatly folded. “For your trouble. Good night.”

The curt dismissal prompted a Gallic shrug from Grillet and an inner squeal of delight from Laura. She hugged her arms over her chest to calm her heart. Her husband acted like a smitten lover. She didn’t even mind if he was pretending. The very fact that he troubled himself to assume such a role told her that he cared.

“You were wonderful!” she said once the doctor had gone.

“More like ridiculous,” he declared, sinking onto the bed and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

Laura started to reassure him, but when she leaned forward away from the pillows, her head spun dangerously. He noticed when she swayed to one side and righted her with his hands on her shoulders. “Lie back. And don’t worry, it’s just the effect of the laudanum. I promise that’s all it is.”

“Laudanum!” She bolted upright and nearly screeched the word.

“I had the cook add a bit to your tea. It will calm your stomach and allow you to rest well tonight.”

“I will not be drugged! Not ever!” Laura fumed. “How dare you lace my tea without so much as a by-your-leave? Don’t you understand? I want awareness, Sean. Every single moment, I want to know exactly—”

“Oh, Laura,” he said, shifting nearer and sliding his arms around her loosely. “Never again, I promise you. Damn it all, I should have known better. I didn’t think.”

“Will you hold me?” she asked, burying her nose in the soft wool of his jacket and pulling him closer. “I was afraid today,” she whispered the words, barely hearing them herself. “I hate being afraid!”

“I know,” he answered. She thought she heard a slight catch in his voice. “Everything will be all right,” he added. “You’ll see.”

“You won’t leave when I sleep, will you?” Laura hated herself for clinging, but the night ahead frightened her witless. What if she simply drifted off into nothingness and stayed there forever?

“I won’t leave you,” he promised fervently. His lips pressed against her temple and hovered there as he spoke. “I vow I won’t leave you, Laura. Not even for a minute.”

With a sigh of relief, she let the reality of his strong embrace bear her into a world of dreams where nothing else dared touch her.