A Notorious Love (37 page)

Remembering how he’d put her hand on him that day, she swept her fingers up the length. “It needs a bit of petting, doesn’t it?” She caressed him lightly until his hand shot out to catch hers.

“Bloody hell, lass, I said seduce me, not tease me into insanity.” He forced her hand around his erection. “Hold it tighter.”

Sheer triumph roared through her. He was not so aloof anymore, was he? “Like this?” she said, gripping him hard.

He growled his assent and moved her hand on him, showing her what to do, not even pretending to resist anymore. She had him now. Oh, yes, she had him in every sense of the word.

When he released her hand, she continued the motion he’d initiated, marveling at the satin smoothness of his rigid flesh, exulting in his groaned response. Grabbing her upper arms as if to anchor her to him, he slid his eyes closed and threw his head back.

It was irresistible, having him at her mercy like this, watching the play of emotion over his face. He was hers to “pet,” hers to touch, and she couldn’t get enough of him.

Emboldened by his crumbling control, she stroked him more quickly. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Oh, yes, sweet Jesus, yes!”

She stopped abruptly, still clasping the heavy weight of him. “Then touch me, too.”

That was all it took to finally have his hands on her, fondling her breasts avidly, brazenly. With a smile, she resumed stroking his pego, and when she lifted her parted
lips to kiss him, he responded with savage fervor, feasting on her, devouring her.

Then she felt his fingers delve inside her drawers—inside
her
—and it was her turn to groan. He stood kissing and caressing her for endless moments, until her leg began to ache from being forced to bear so much of her weight for so long.

Abruptly, she released him and pushed away. “Do you want more?” She slipped out of her drawers, watching in delight as he surged toward her. Backing toward the bed, she smiled a taunt. “Do you want to see how truly wicked I can be?”

He stalked her, eyes glittering. “On the bed, lass. Now!”

A thrill of delight shot through her at the command. “I thought
I
was supposed to be seducing
you,
” she teased as she climbed onto the bed, still edging back from him.

“You’re taking too bloody long.” He lunged after her, the chain clattering against the iron bedstead as he hit the mattress close by.

With a laugh of triumph, she whirled to escape, but he had her before she could leave the bed on the other side. Throwing himself back onto the bed, he dragged her on top of him so that she lay along his length, with his pego a stiff rod between their bellies. He moved his leg and suddenly she felt cold iron against her good ankle. He’d wound it loosely in the long chain.

“You wanted to be shackled to a bed with me, did you?” he whispered. “You wanted to make love to me?”

She grinned down at him. “That was the general idea.” She planted a hot, moist kiss against his collarbone, and he groaned.

“Then up on your knees, lass.” His eyes blazed with his need. “Time for you to proceed with the seduction.”

Up on her knees? It took her only a second to figure
out what he wanted, and another to drag the chain up so she could straddle him.

But before she went on, she wanted something from him. “Does this mean you’ve decided I’m wicked enough to satisfy you?” His erection now thrust up between her spread thighs, and she rubbed her damp, aching cleft against it.

He grabbed her hips. “Wicked enough to satisfy ten of me, I’m beginning to suspect. Now make love to me, Helena. Take me inside you before I go mad.”

She wanted to elicit a more lasting promise from him, a promise of marriage, but she suspected he would not make it until all of this was over and done with. For now, this was enough.

As soon as she rose up and came down on him, he let out a feral growl. “Christ Almighty…ah, yes, love…yes, like that…”

My, this was amazing, being on top of him, filled by him, joined to him so completely. She had him entirely at her mercy, didn’t she? The very thought flooded her loins with hot pleasure. She could be as wicked with him as she pleased, and he would let her, even encourage her.

That’s when it dawned on her that this was why she loved him. Because he let her be herself, even when she wanted to forget she was a lady. He accepted her with all her flaws—her tart tongue, her distrustful nature, her lameness. He did not ask her to hide her leg or her physical weakness—he simply found a way to accommodate them.

Staring down into his dear face, she whispered, “I love you, Danny. I will always love you.”

His thorough satisfaction made him look almost angelic. “You remember that you said that when you’re back in London at one of your fancy balls, d’you hear?”
he said softly. Then he tugged her head down for a warm, intimate kiss so sweet she could have cried.

After that, she was utterly lost. She took him deep inside her, welcoming his thrusts, undulating with every plunge. Yet it was not just her body she laid open, but her heart.

All her life, she’d kept a small portion of herself hidden from everyone—her parents, her sisters, and even Lord Farnsworth. And then Daniel had come, refusing to let her hide from him. Now she wanted him to have it all, to know her completely. If she’d kept anything from him before, it was now all his: her secrets, her needs, her lifelong yearnings. With every precious thrust of his, she gave him more, dragged him further inside her, sucked him into herself as she’d never done with anyone.

As if he sensed it, he swept his hands and his mouth over all of her, everywhere he could reach, seeking, caressing, branding her with his touch. He kissed her hair and her breasts, he nuzzled the soft inner skin of her arms, he fondled her cleft until she felt herself shattering, a thousand shards of herself that were all his, would be his forever.

“I love you, too,” he whispered fiercely as she convulsed around him. “And I’ll ne’er let you forget it”

Then with a guttural cry of his own, he drove deep and spilled himself inside her.

Chapter 20

It was Brennan on the moor, Brennan on the moor

Bold, brave and undaunted was young Brennan on the moor.

“Brennan on the Moor,”
anonymous nineteenth-century ballad
about a real-life Irish highwayman

I
t was dawn, the light growing too quickly. Soon the room would be as bright as polished brass. Propped up against the iron bedstead, Daniel watched the morning come, one hand stroking Helena’s hair as she slept and the other rubbing his whiskered jaw.

He wished he could shave. He wished he wasn’t shackled. He wished he was back in London. Most of all,
he wished he wasn’t a randy bastard who couldn’t keep his hands off Helena for more than a moment.

Now I’ve gone and done it. I’ve gone from building castles in the clouds to moving into them.

With Helena, of all people. It was enough to make his heart leap. Or weep, he wasn’t sure which.

He gazed down at her sleeping form and sighed. The lass had such faith in him, such trust in their future. Just the sight of her leg tangled in his shackle chain made his gut clench. He’d tried to keep from ensnaring her in his life, but the woman persisted in infecting him with all her mad hopes.

And to think she loved him! He’d never dared hope for that, hadn’t allowed himself to love her, because he’d feared she could never love him back. Now it felt so good to love her, to have her say she loved him, as if she believed it with her whole heart and body and soul. No one had ever loved him like that. He hadn’t realized till now how badly he’d wanted it.

One fear still hounded him—that this was a moment’s aberration. She said it was not, yet he knew all too well the sort of promises one made when in danger. But would those promises hold once this was over and she returned to her proper place, once she saw what she’d recklessly thrown herself into? Back in London, she might very well realize she’d made a dreadful mistake.

He could only pray that she didn’t. Because if he lost her love now—after having its sweetness dangled before him—it might very well kill him.

There were sounds of activity in the hall, and he shook her gently. “Come on, love, wake up. Looks like something’s happening, and we want to be dressed for it.”

She shot out of sleep like a startled swan, all rustling feathers and blinking eyes and flailing wings. “What?
Where am I? What’s happening?” Then her gaze flew to his, and she blushed. “Oh, I’m here.” A slow, seductive smile spread over her lips. “So it wasn’t all just a lovely dream.”

“No, or I’m sure you would’ve had us locked up under far better circumstances.”

“True.” She snuggled up next to him to press a kiss to his mouth. “Good morning, Danny.”

“Morning, love.”

“Are you feeling as grand as I am this morning?” She stretched her arms, letting the sheet drop enough to reveal her darling breasts.

His unruly John Thomas woke up and stretched as well. “Lass,” he said in a strained voice, “any minute, our captors will be opening that door to take us to meet Crouch. So unless you want to be doing the mattress jig when they do, I suggest you not go tempting me.”

With a look of horror, she grabbed the sheet and plastered it to her chest. “They’re coming for us? Now? Why didn’t you say so?”

“I just did,” he retorted.

Whipping the sheet around her sweet curves, she left the bed and went in search of her clothes. “Why would they come for us so early?”

He, too, got up and began to dress. “Crouch was on a run last night. If he acts true to form, he’ll be wanting to settle all his business before he finds some lightskirt and drops into bed. They’re probably stowing the goods as we speak, which means they’ll be here for us soon.”

“What do you plan to do?” She dressed quickly.

“I don’t know. First I’ll have to see what he intends.” He finished putting on all but his coat and strode to where she knelt on the floor, hunting for her hairpins. Plucking two from her hand, he returned to where his coat lay. He removed the knife from the pocket, used it to make a hole
in the lining of his coat sleeve very near the wrist end, slid the knife inside, and closed up the hole with the hairpins.

“Do you think you’ll need it?”

He glanced over to find her watching him with a mixture of horror and worry. “I hope not. I’m hoping Jolly Roger will listen to reason. I’d just as soon avoid bloodshed if I can.”

The rattle of the doorknob cut into their conversation. The door swung open and Jack stepped inside, Big Antony looming up behind him. “So, did you two lovebirds sleep well?” Jack’s eyes twinkled. “I hear the chain was clanking something fierce half the night.”

“I had trouble sleeping with an iron bracelet on my ankle is all,” Daniel snapped, annoyed by the idea of Big Antony—or any of them, for that matter—listening in on his and Helena’s lovemaking. Strange, he’d never cared about something like that before. But then he’d never been in love with the woman he was bedding.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both ready,” Jack went on. “It’s time to go.”

“Did you ask Crouch about what I told you?”

Jack’s amusement vanished. “Not yet. I haven’t even told him you’re here, and I ordered the boys not to mention it. I want to watch how he reacts when he sees you.”

Jack spoke to Big Antony in fractured Italian. Within moments the foreigner was binding Daniel’s wrists while Daniel did his best to keep the coat sleeve containing the knife from bumping the Italian. Only when Big Antony had him well-tied did Jack remove the shackle.

“You find me quite the dangerous fellow, d’you, Jack?” Daniel said sarcastically.

“Just a precaution, Danny. The last time I got into a fight with you, there were five of us against you and
Knighton, and you won. I learned then not to underestimate you.”

Daniel glanced over at Helena, whom they’d left unbound. Judging from how Helena clutched her cane, he wasn’t the only one Jack ought not to underestimate: Helena was liable to break it over Jack’s fool head. He only hoped she chose to do it at a more opportune time. So he breathed easier when they hustled him past her and she acquiesced to Jack’s order for her to follow right behind Daniel.

They moved down the stairs, with Big Antony in front of Daniel and Jack taking up the rear. Between Helena’s difficulties navigating the narrow passageway with her cane and Daniel’s being bound, it was impossible to move quickly.

That made it easier for him to work the knife from his sleeve into his hand. Helena hot on his heels blocked his arms from Jack’s gaze, and the poor light helped. As soon as he had the knife hilt in his grip, he slid it up between his wrists and went to work on his ropes.

When they reached the bottom floor and headed to the staircase leading into the basement, Helena said, “Where are we going?”

“To the caves,” Daniel answered for Jack. He should’ve known that was why they’d been brought to Jack’s, but he’d forgotten about the caves. “There’s a tunnel in the basement that leads to the St. Clements Caves inside West Hill. That’s where Jolly Roger stashes his contraband.”

“Very good, Danny Boy,” Jack called down behind him. “I see you haven’t forgot us entirely. If you ever decide you want to come back to work—”

“Thank you, but I prefer not to spend my days avoiding excisemen,” he retorted. “Not to mention that I’m
doing a damned sight better making my money the honest way.”

Jack chuckled. “Then perhaps Jolly Roger should’ve come to
you
about the financing.”

“Aye. Because I would’ve done more than toss him out on his ear. I would’ve sent him to Newgate. Especially if I’d known he was my uncle.”

That shut Jack up, thank God.

When Big Antony reached the basement, he tossed aside the rug that hid the tunnel door. Soon they were descending an angled sandstone passageway illuminated by torchlight.

As Daniel sawed more quickly at the rope binding his hands, a weight of memory settled on him, oppressive and bittersweet. Jack had been right about one thing—there’d been both good times and bad in these damp dominions. He’d spent so much of the past few years suppressing it that he’d forgotten the simple pleasures of playing hide-and-seek with the other boys, exploring hidden passages, playing jokes on Jack and Jolly Roger when they were in their cups.