A Rake's Vow (47 page)

There was no doubt of that fact, no possibility of error, no room for maneuver—and absolutely none for negotiation. He was finished with excuses, with playing the game according to society’s rules. Conquerors wrote their own rules. That was something Patience would have to come to terms with—he intended shortly to inform her of the fact.

But first, he’d set Minnie’s heart at rest.

He found her propped on her pillows, eyes expectantly wide. Timms was present; Patience was not. Quickly, concisely, he explained and reassured. Then he left Timms to tuck Minnie, at ease once again, up for the night.

He knew they were grinning behind his back, but was not about to acknowledge it. Shutting Minnie’s door with a definite click, he turned and strode down the corridor.

With a token, peremptory tap, he opened Patience’s door and walked in, then shut it behind him. Rising from the chair by the hearth, she blinked, then resettled the shawl she’d draped over her shoulders, and calmly waited.

Beneath the soft shawl, she was wearing a fine silk nightgown, cinched with a drawstring under her breasts. And nothing else.

The blaze in the hearth roared.

One hand on the doorknob, Vane drank in the sight, luscious curves and sleek limbs outlined by the flames. The embers inside him ignited; a rush of fiery lust seared his veins. He straightened and slowly stalked toward her.

“Gerrard’s with Devil and Honoria at St. Ives House.” The words fell from his lips slowly, as, starting at her nightgown’s hem, he let his gaze rise, noting the fascinating way the silk clung to each curve, to her long, sleek thighs, rounded hips, the soft swell of her belly, how it cradled the warm globes of her breasts. Her nipples peaked as his gaze feasted.

She tightened her hold on her shawl. “Was that part of your plan?”

Halting before her, Vane lifted his gaze to her face. “Yes. I hadn’t imagined Bow Street, but something along those lines was in the cards. Someone had, from the first, tried to cast Gerrard as the thief.”

“What happened?” Patience’s words were breathless; her lungs had seized. She held Vane’s gaze and tried not to shiver. Not with fear, but anticipation. The stark planes of his face, the silvery flames in his eyes, all screamed of reined passion.

He studied her eyes, then raised one brow. “By the time I reached Bow Street, Devil had descended and whisked Gerrard away. I followed them to St. Ives House. According to Gerrard, he didn’t even have time to look around Bow Street before Devil arrived, courtesy of Sligo. He must have run all the way to Grosvenor Square.”

Her eyes locked on his, Patience licked her lips. “He’s really been a big help over this business.”

“Indeed. As he could swear that the stolen goods were not in Gerrard’s room yesterday, and nor was the sack in which they were found, the magistrate was understandably diffident over laying any charge.” Vane’s lips lifted. “Particularly with Devil leaning on the charge desk.”

Bracing one hand on the mantelpiece, he leaned closer. Decidedly giddy, Patience tilted her chin. “I suspect your cousin enjoys intimidating people.”

Vane’s lips quirked. His gaze lowered to her lips. “Let’s just say Devil’s rarely backward in exercising his authority, especially in support of one of the family.”

“I . . . see.” Her gaze fixed on his long lips, Patience decided to let his description of Gerrard as “family” pass unchallenged. The tension investing his large frame, so close beside her, was fascinating—and deliciously unnerving.

“The magistrate decided something odd was going on. The report hadn’t come from Minnie, and, of course, there was the matter of Sligo, Devil’s servant, masquerading as Minnie’s hired help. He couldn’t understand it, so he elected to make no finding at present. He released Gerrard into Devil’s care, pending any further developments.”

“And Gerrard?”

“I left him happily ensconced with Devil and Honoria. Honoria told me to tell you they were grateful for the excuse to stay home. While they keep up appearances, they only came to town to catch up with the family. They’ll be returning to Somersham any day.”

Patience licked her lips again; under his gaze, they’d started to throb. “Will that—them leaving town—create problems if Gerrard’s still in Devil’s care?”

“No.” Vane lifted his gaze to her eyes. “I’ll assume the charge.”

Patience mouthed a silent “Oh.”

“But tell me.” Vane pushed away from the mantelpiece and straightened. “Has anything happened here?” He started to unbutton his coat.

“No.” Patience managed to find enough breath for a sigh. “Alice hasn’t been sighted since this morning.” She glanced at Vane. “She saw you in the corridor last night.”

Vane frowned, and shrugged out of his coat. “What the devil was she doing up at that hour?”

Patience shrugged, and watched him toss his coat on the chair. “Whatever, she didn’t come down for dinner. Everyone else did, but all were understandably subdued.”

“Even Henry?”

“Even Henry. Whitticombe preserved a censorious silence. The General spent the entire time grumbling, and snapping at anyone who loomed in his path. Edgar and Edith kept their heads down, together for the most part, whispering. About what I know not.” Vane’s fingers closed about the buttons of his waistcoat. Patience drew a tight breath. “Edmond’s succumbed to his muse again. Angela is quietly happy because she got her comb back. Henry, however, was idling about because he couldn’t find anyone with whom to play billiards.”

Patience shifted, giving Vane space to strip off his waistcoat. “Oh—there was one point of interest—Mrs. Chadwick quietly asked Minnie and me if she could search Gerrard’s bureau for her missing earring. Poor dear, it seemed the least we could do. I went with her—we searched high and low, and through all the other drawers, too. There was no sign of it anywhere.”

She turned to Vane—just as he freed his cravat and drew the long strip from his neck. His gaze on her, he held it between his hands. “So,” he murmured, his tone deep, “nothing of any moment happened here.”

Her gaze transfixed by the long strip of linen, Patience tried to speak and couldn’t—she shook her head.

“Good.” The word was a feral purr. With a negligent flick, Vane sent the cravat to join his coat. “So there’s nothing to distract you.”

Patience dragged her gaze up to his face. “Distract me?”

“From the subject we need to discuss.”

“You want to discuss something?” She hauled in a breath and tried to steady her giddy head.

Vane trapped her gaze. “You. Me.” His face hardened. “Us.”

With a supreme effort, Patience raised her brows. “What about ‘us’?”

A muscle in his jaw flickered. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clench. “I,” he declared, “have reached the end of my tether.”

He stepped toward her; she took a sliding step back.

“I do not approve of any situation that leaves you a target for the likes of such as the Colbys—regardless of whether said situation arises from my actions or otherwise.” His lips a thin line, he stepped forward; Patience instinctively edged back. “I cannot, and will not, condone any scenario whereby your reputation is in any way sullied—even by me with the best of intentions.”

He continued to stalk her; she continued to retreat. Patience longed to whirl around and scurry out of his reach, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from his. “What are you doing here then?”

She was trapped, mesmerized—she knew he’d soon pounce. As if to confirm that, his eyes narrowed, and he tugged his shirt from his waistband. Without taking his eyes from her, he started undoing the buttons, still advancing, still forcing her to retreat. Toward the bed.

“I’m here”—he bit the words off—“because I can’t see any sense in being anywhere else. You’re
mine
—henceforth, you sleep with me. As you’re sleeping here at the moment,
ergo
, so do I. If my bed is not yet yours, then yours will have to be mine.”

“You just said you didn’t want my reputation sullied.”

His shirt fell fully open. He continued to advance. Patience didn’t know where to look. Where she most wanted to look.

“Precisely. So you’ll have to marry me. Soon. Which is what we need to discuss.” With that, he looked down, and unlaced his cuffs.

Poised to seize the moment to dash to safety, Patience froze. “I don’t
have
to marry you.”

He looked up, and stripped off his shirt. “Not in that sense, no. But for you, marriage to me is inevitable. All we need to determine—what we are
going
to determine—tonight—is what it’s going to take to make you agree.”

His shirt hit the floor—he stepped forward.

Belatedly, Patience scurried three steps back—and fetched up against the bedpost. Before she could whisk around it, Vane was there, reaching around her, hands locking about the post behind her. Trapping her within the circle of his arms, facing him, and his bare chest.

Dragging in a desperate breath, Patience locked her eyes on his. “I told you—I will
not
simply marry you.”

“I think I can guarantee there’ll be nothing simple about our marriage.”

Patience opened her lips on an acid retort—he sealed them, with a kiss so potent by the time he raised his head, she was clinging for dear life to the bedpost.

“Just listen.” He said the words against her lips, as if they were forced from him.

Patience stilled. Her heart thumping wildly, she waited. He didn’t straighten, or draw away. Lids lowered, her gaze fixed on his lips, she watched the words form as he spoke.

“I’m renowned within the
ton
as being cool under fire—around you, I’m never cool. I’m heated—I seethe—I burn with desire. If I’m in the same room, all I can think about is heat—your heat—and how you’ll feel around me.”

Patience felt the heat rise, a real force between them.

“I’ve gained the reputation of being the soul of discretion—now look at me. I’ve seduced my godmother’s niece—and been seduced by her. I share her bed openly, even under my godmother’s roof.” His lips twisted wryly. “So much for discretion.”

He drew a deep breath; his chest brushed her breasts.

“And as for my vaunted, up-until-you
legendary
control—the instant I’m inside you that evaporates like water on hot steel.”

What prompted her Patience never knew. His lips were so close—with her teeth, she nipped the lower. “I told you to let go—I won’t break.”

The tension, pouring off him in waves, eased, just a little. He sighed, and rested his forehead on hers. “It’s not that.” After a moment, he went on, “I don’t like losing control—it’s like losing myself—in you.”

She felt him gather himself, felt the tension swell and coalesce about them.

“It’s giving myself to you—so that I’m in your keeping.”

The words, low and gravelly, rolled through her; closing her eyes, she drew in a shallow breath. “And you don’t like doing that.”

“I don’t like it—but I crave it. I don’t approve of it, yet I yearn for it.” His words feathered her cheek, then his lips touched hers. “Do you understand? I haven’t any choice.”

Patience felt his chest swell as he drew a deep breath.

“I love you.”

She shivered, eyes shut tight, and felt the world shift about her.

“Losing myself in you—giving my heart and soul into your keeping—is part of that.”

His lips brushed hers in an inexpressibly tender caress.

“Trusting you is part of that. Telling you I love you is part of that.”

His lips touched hers again; Patience didn’t wait for more. She kissed him. Letting go of the post, she slid her hands up, framing his face, so she could let him know—let him feel—her response to all he’d said.

He felt it, sensed it—and reacted; his arms locked tight about her. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the emotion that held them, that flowed so effortlessly between them.

Silver and gold, it wound about them, investing each touch with its magic. Silver and gold, it shimmered about them, and quivered in their fractured breaths. It was immediate compulsion and future promise, heavenly delight and earthly pleasure. It was here and now—and forever.

With a soft oath, Vane drew back and stripped off his trousers. Released, Patience lowered her arms and let her shawl fall, then tugged the tie of her nightgown free. A quick shift and a shrug sent the silk sliding to the floor.

Vane straightened—she stepped into his arms, setting her naked limbs to his.

He sucked in a breath, then let it out in a groan as she stretched sinuously against him. He wrapped her in his arms and bent his head to hers; their lips met, and desire ran free.

He lifted her and laid her on the sheets, and followed her down. She welcomed him to her, took him into her body with joyous abandon.

And this time, there was no holding back, no reticence, no control, no vestige of rational thought. Passion and desire bloomed, then ran riot. They were one—in mind, in thought, in deed. Pleasure for one was the other’s delight. They gave themselves, again and again, and still found more to give.

And over and between ran the shimmering glory, stronger than steel and more precious than pearls.

When they crested the final wave, and clung to each other as the maelstrom took them, it intensified and filled them. Until all existence became that wondrous glow; as they drifted, deeply sated, into dreamless sleep, it settled over them.

A blessing—the most desired of benedictions.

What followed was entirely Myst’s fault.

Vane woke, as he had once before, to discover the small cat once again curled on his chest, purring furiously. Sleepily sated, he scratched one grey ear while waiting for his senses to refocus. His limbs were heavy with deep satiation—a drugging glow still filled him. He glanced toward the window. The sky had started to lighten.

He and Patience needed to talk.

Vane lifted his hand from Myst’s ear.

The cat promptly flexed her claws.

Vane hissed—and glared. “Your claws are more lethal than your mistress’s.”

“Hmm?” Heavy-eyed, Patience emerged from beneath the sheets.

Vane waved at Myst. “I was about to ask if you’d consider removing your resident predator.”