A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis (41 page)

“I believe it was when you armed yourselves with a cricket bat against the Nettlebed Troll. I knew then and there I wanted my children to have a troll slayer for a father. That’s all there was to it.” She smiled the Fanny smile, part grin and part—heaven.

“Mm-mm.” He nuzzled the lovely blush on her cheek. “Had I known my strategy for night terrors would have such effect, I might have invited you down for a bit of goblin hunting and worm collecting years ago. You sure you weren’t swayed by the lovemaking afterward?”

“Possibly.” Fanny gazed out over the pond and waved to Harry. His sailboat was faring rather well in a race against another young man’s toy vessel. The older boy had a long pole and began to prod his boat ahead of Harry’s. “Rafe, that boy is cheating Harry.” Fanny moved to stand.

Rafe held her arm.

Harland ripped the stick from the older lad’s hand, broke it over his knee, and returned two shorter sticks to the scowling boy. Rafe grinned. “I believe Harland and Harry will get on just fine.”

Fanny settled into the crook of his shoulder and toyed
with the buttons of his waistcoat. Her delicate fondling created a pleasant swell of arousal. Rafe was already anticipating an evening together behind closed doors. The flat closed up, Harry off in the land of Nod, Fanny in nothing but silky peach-colored underthings.

Even though their return to Edinburgh was inevitable, he hoped to have her to himself a few more days before traveling north. Fanny had a fierce affection for the hills and dales of Lochree, and no doubt friends and family beckoned. But he’d lived without her for so many years, he begrudged the notion of sharing her right now.

Rafe sat up, jostling her a bit. “I almost forgot.” He reached in his coat pocket and retrieved a paper. “A wire for you forwarded from Scotland Yard.”

Snugged up against him, Fanny opened the missive. “It’s from Claire. She’s returned to Edinburgh.” Fanny quickly perused the rest of the message. “Seems the horrid news about Father finally reached her in Brussels.”

“Intrepid of your cousin to contact you via Scotland Yard.” Rafe did not bother to hide his sarcasm.

“I asked her to.” Fanny nudged him with her elbow. “When we were on the run you spoke of a letter Claire had written from Italy. The one that gave you quite a knock, years ago.”

“Yes, Fanny, I remember it well.”

“There was something peculiar in the telling—it wasn’t right—not from what I recall. Particularly the flirtation with the Duke of Grafton.” Fanny sat up.

“I fully recall your chide on the road.” Rafe grinned. “Wasn’t he fourteen at the time?”

Fanny’s brows merged as she drew her bottom lip under her teeth. “Our scheme seems awfully childish now, but it was never meant to be cruel. In the letter you described, things were stated much more seriously, including an implied announcement of promise.”

He slumped back on the bench and shook his head. “I should have sold my father’s watch and jumped on the fastest steamship to Italy, at the very least written an anguished letter pleading with you to break it off and declaring my love.”

“I’ve a confession.” Fanny angled toward him. “I borrowed a piece of your stationery in Nettlebed, to write Claire. And I must say you appear quite capable of writing love letters by the volume.” A bit of pink flushed her cheeks.

“You were in my study?”

The guilty, sheepish grin gave her away.

“I see.” His mouth twitched and his heart skittered about in his chest. “I don’t suppose you had time to read them all?”

“Just one, from the top of one of the stacks.” Fanny looked at him in a way that filled him with joy. “It was lovely, Rafe.”

Rafe studied every nuance of her expression. “I’m so sorry, Fanny, for many things. Most of all I’m sorry for all the years we lost together.”

Love poured from her eyes. Not the passionate attraction they both felt for each other but a love of deep affection. Fanny understood him better than any other human being on earth, just as he knew her brave heart
and the kindness in her soul. Knowledge they had both lost for a time, but never again.

She breathed a sigh of relief and lifted her chin. “I believe the very best remedy, in a case like ours, is to get about the business of loving each other.”

Rafe swept an arm around Fanny and tugged her close. “I look forward to a good amount of catching up.”

“A few answers, as well.” She grinned. “I mean to get to the bottom of this business with Claire, the moment we return to Edinburgh.”

“And I shall interrogate Nigel separately. I’ve always suspected him of—fishy dealings.” Rafe’s eyes darted off into the near distance. “We shall see if their stories add up.”

“The blame would appear to fall on one or the other.” Fanny’s harrumph sounded more like an impatient growl. “I’m surprised you haven’t punched Nigel in the nose. It’s something you are rather good at.”

His laugh brushed the wispy hairs of her temple. “First off, as you may have noticed, I get enough violence in my life on a daily basis. Secondly, if it ever came to blows with that pathetic excuse for a man, the carnage would be brutal.” Rafe brushed soft kisses over her cheek and paused close to her lips. “Thirdly—and I’ve saved the best for last.”

Fanny tilted her head and parted her lips.

“He didn’t get you.” In the deep shade of the poplar trees, Rafe kissed her well and good.

FANNY PULLED UP the covers and tucked the sleeping child into bed. “Harry’s had quite a long day. Shopping at Harrods, a long walk through Hyde Park, and a bit of pond sailing.” She glanced at the tall, handsome figure in the door quietly regarding the scene in his bedchamber.

Rafe slipped off his cravat and collar. His shirt and waistcoat were already unbuttoned. A lovely, intimate energy moved between them. A glimpse, perhaps, into their future? Children to bed. Off to the privacy of their bedchamber. Everything about the picture was right—and sensual.

Relaxed against the door molding, one knee slightly bent, Rafe radiated masculine potency. “And how are you, my darling? Not too tired, I hope.”

“What do you have in mind?” She rounded the poster bed and drew near. “A rousing game of Blind Man’s Bluff?” Playfully she slipped a finger into his shirt opening.

“Did you say arousing?” He slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. Her body tingled all over—the erotic kind of shivers that caused her to have the most sensuous notions. Naughty, tantalizing thoughts ran through her mind, awakening sensitive female parts.

Her gaze lowered to his strong, firm mouth. “Kiss me,” she said softly.

Rafe placed her arms around his neck. “It would be my pleasure.” He planted his mouth on hers and kissed her with a tender passion that escalated into the most blissful assault on her mouth. Equally ravenous, she slipped her fingers into thick waves of chestnut hair and
pulled him closer. She surrendered to every swirl of his tongue, every honeyed caress. Their tongues merged, slid, stroked a mating dance that left her wobbly-legged, with a hot need burning in her belly.

She opened his shirt to gain wider access to the warmth and strength of his powerful body. Her fingers traced rings around shades of purple, green, and yellow. A color for every day of their adventure. The hard muscles of his torso contracted from her touch. “Look at those bruises. Every color of the rainbow.”

His emerald gaze sparkled. “I wonder, might this be a version of Thus Says Captain Savage? In which case I will have to insist you abide by article three of the First Geneva Convention.” His whispered words brushed her cheek. “With regards to the aid and rehabilitation of the injured soldier, particular attention must be paid to the extremities . . .”

Fanny smothered a laugh and twirled a finger around his shirt button. “Yes, well, this variety of parlor game is called Lieutenant Cutthroat Takes Charge, and you are now under my command.”

He kissed her temple. “Then you must order a vigorous skirmish in your bed.”

Fanny slanted a sly look and took him by the hand—down the hallway and straight into her room. She tore off his shirt, pushed him onto the counterpane, and ravaged his chest. His smooth skin smelled of soap and her favorite scent of all—his own. The man brought out the wanton hussy in her. She licked his nipples and toyed with chest hair, and he answered with the
deepest groan. The marvelous sound of a man lost in pleasure.

He untied his drawers and pressed back into the bed pillows, folding his arms behind his head. The muscles of his upper arms bulged in the most breathtaking way. Her gaze trailed over a hard chest that narrowed down to a flat abdomen and long masculine thighs. Adonis in recline, waving his angry sword.

Emerald eyes burned dark and hungry as he watched her boldly peruse his body. “I believe you like what you see.”

She hardly recognized the throaty voice that answered him. “Very much.” The singular importance of his gently spoken words, the intimacy of their discussion, caused her to catch her breath.

“Fanny . . . turn around, before I shred this pretty frock, and matching underthings, with my bare hands.”

She was quite sure she blinked like an owl. A tingle ran from her breast tips to womb as he began to unbutton and unhook.

But oh, how slow he was!

“Whoever invented the hook and eye should be shot,” he grumbled. She pushed his hands away and quickly shed every stitch. Everything but her stockings.

He kissed a bare shoulder and laid her back onto the cool sheets. “Allow me to roll them off.” In the dim light of her room, she could just make out his smile. She trembled at the very thought of his touch. He rolled one stocking down, then the other. His fingers played down the sensitive inner flesh of each leg, but he did not
enter her moist parts. He toyed close to the center of her pleasure, brushing lightly through curls. She thrust her hips upward and groaned.

Propped on her elbows, she met his dark, lusty gaze and brazenly opened to him.

“My little wanton, what a lovely shade of pink you are.” He pressed gently into her moist petals—his soft strokes deepened their exploration, first one finger, then two. Her lower anatomy flooded with slippery invitation as his hand coaxed a slow build of arousal. She cried out from his pleasuring.

His raw, feral gaze moved to her bosom. “Touch yourself.”

She took a deep breath and arched. Cupping her breasts, she rolled her nipples into hard points and thrust her hips up to greet his fingers as they swirled and danced over the center of her pleasure.

Seeing her breathless and flushed with color stimulated his own desire. He laid her back onto the bed pillows and cupped her buttocks. She elevated her hips and beckoned him to mount and breed with her. But he held back, fingers pressing deep. “You are so warm inside.” Using two fingers, he pumped lightly, adding his thumb to the engorged nub, the focus of her mounting pleasure.

Rafe rolled onto his side and continued to slide his fingers across the spot that made her talk to him in breathless moans: “More. Oh yes. Don’t stop!”

He grinned. “She also likes to be kissed.”

“Oh, she prefers your lips, your . . .” He caressed the
hollow of her stomach and she shuddered with anticipation. Pressing his mouth against her inner thigh, he moved in.

“My beautiful goddess, salty and sweet.” His tongue circled and laved languidly as he acquainted himself with every nerve ending. Her body writhed and arched against him as he suckled the engorged nub, stroking with his tongue, until the tingling and heaviness of her pelvis became unbearable. Such wicked arousal, shocking and yet oh so . . . heavenly. Fanny let go and her release broke in waves of exquisite pleasure.

Her eyes fluttered open. “How is it you always seem to know”—she tilted her head—“when I am close to satisfaction?”

He crawled on top of her and kissed a few tiny beads of sweat off her nose. “I listen carefully to every ooh and ah.”

Rafe settled back in the pillows and reveled in her exploration of his body. Her fingers moved gently over the healing knife wound and the bullet scratch across his upper arm. She toyed gently with bruises on his torso and worked her way lower. “I look forward to pleasuring my wounded warrior.” Her hand moved to his prick and she stroked gently.

He groaned. And she answered him, in a rather shocking way. She moved between his legs and gave the head a few licks, before peeking up at him and biting her lip. Christ, he was already close to bursting.

Then she did something with her tongue that drove him wild. She licked up from the base and over the tip—and
she did this several more times—until all he wanted was to bury himself deep and ride her until he came to pleasure inside her warm, tight sheath. Ah, but first . . .

Reluctantly Rafe lifted her up. “I believe it’s time for the French letter.” He grinned. “Did you not tease me about wanting to put one on?” He grabbed his trousers and scrounged in the pockets. “Aha!” Rolling onto his back, he removed the latex rubber goods from the paper packet. Fisting his erection, he showed her how to cover the tip. “Roll it down . . . slowly.”

Fanny sat back and examined her handiwork. “No, it doesn’t seem right.” She rolled the condom back up and tossed it away. “I can’t see any reason for this—I want nothing between us, Rafe. Just you and me.”

He answered her with raised brow and a rather large smile. “Have it your way, Fan.”

“Oh, that is good news.” Fanny toyed with his chest hair. “As I’m a little sore, can we go slow?”

“Come here, you little minx, and straddle me. Then you control the penetration.” His voice was harsh, breathless as she pressed down onto his cock. Rafe groaned as she slipped him into her moist, tight sheath. Fanny gyrated her hips—just as he’d shown her.

She rocked back and forth, rising to the point that his cock nearly left her, then pressed down again—deeper with every plunge. And there was something wonderfully erotic about her interest in his pleasure. She responded to his bestial groans by tossing her head back and answering with a moan. A beautiful naked nymph arched her back and rode him proudly with breasts swaying. He reached
up and tweaked both nipples—just hard enough to make her hips buck and her body shudder.