Courting Claudia (14 page)

She wanted to be angry with him. Angry enough to walk away, but she wanted to consummate this marriage despite her insecurities. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her body. And she wanted to explore his body as well.

Her cheeks burned with the thought, and she knew they flushed red. She brought her hands to them and tried not to look at him. He'd once remarked on her blush, wanting to know how far it traveled down her body.

“Care to share those thoughts?”

“No, thank you. I'm very tired.”

She lay down on her side, facing the wall, and pulled her nightgown tighter around her. She shouldn't deny him his rights to her body. He'd done the honorable thing and married her, now she should do the honorable thing and allow him to consummate their marriage. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she wanted to. Despite her hurt feelings and wounded pride, she wanted him to make love to her. She wanted him to prove to her that he didn't care that her body wasn't perfect.

“Don't you want to get under the covers?” Without waiting for her response, he tugged at the covers to pull them out from under her. Then he stood
and gently covered her. He leaned down and kissed her, a sweet and tender kiss.

It didn't take her long to decide to kiss him back. She opened her mouth to him and slid her tongue across his bottom lip. His throat emitted a low growl. He deepened the kiss, and she buried her fingers in his hair. She loved kissing him. It was turning out to be one of her favorite pastimes, which made it a good thing they had married, since now she could kiss him whenever she liked.

She felt the weight of his body press into hers, and even though the bedcovers separated them, she could still feel his heat. Still feel his obvious desire for her. He hadn't been lying about that.

He moved, rubbing his hard length against her. She opened her legs slightly, wishing the bedcovers were gone, but not wanting to remove them herself. He moved again. And again. Slow and steady.

Those bloody bedcovers
.

As if he'd read her mind, he maneuvered his way underneath them. Clothes still barricaded their skin, but the pressure was much greater.

They continued to kiss, deep searching kisses that curled her toes and sent warmth radiating through her body. His steady rocking against her was building something inside her, stronger with
every movement. She bucked beneath him, trying to make it come faster, whatever it was.

“I want to touch you.” Derrick's words broke the silence.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Let me take this silly gown off you.”

“Put out the lights first.”

“Claudia, I'm going to see you eventually. You are my wife.”

“Not tonight.”

He nodded, then climbed off her. One by one, he doused the lights.

A moment passed, and he still did not return to the bed. He'd changed his mind. This marriage would never work. She should have done as her father suggested and retired herself to the country. She could have painted all day.

“What are you doing?” she ventured.

“Removing my clothes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. It's usually how I sleep. Would you prefer I wore something?”

Sleeping next to a naked man. Sleeping next to naked Derrick. The thought made her giddy, and she nearly giggled, but the gravity of the current situation extinguished her humor.

“I don't want to change your habits,” she said.

“You may sleep nude as well.”

“I'd prefer not to.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable. But I am going to take the gown off you.”

She had no response to that, and then he was next to her. On the bed, with his mouth on hers and his hand on her ankle.

He was naked.

The thought excited yet embarrassed her. She didn't know the first thing about what to do with a naked man.

His hand slid farther up her leg, and his mouth continued a slow seduction of her own mouth, neck, and ears. Chills danced across her skin, and her nipples peaked. Her mother had never made the marriage bed sound this pleasant. She had told her it was something she had to bear out of duty, not that it would be something she could look forward to, or enjoy. But she was certainly enjoying this. Kissing Derrick had never been a problem, though. Perhaps whatever came next was the unpleasant part. She doubted, though, that anything involving Derrick could be unpleasant.

Where was she supposed to put her hands? They rested at her sides, wadding the sheets while she waited to see exactly how far Derrick's hand
would go beneath her nightgown. At the current moment, he was up to her knee.

His mouth played at her collarbone, and she tilted her head farther into the pillow to give him better access. Oh, the things he did with his tongue. While his left hand continued to play with her knee, his right made its way to her breasts. He cupped one gently.

Cold air hit her thighs, and she realized he'd hiked her nightgown up that high. She grabbed the hem.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“I'm not positive I'm ready for you to touch me yet.”

“All right. You tell me where I can touch you, and I'll only touch you in those places. The rest of you will be safe from my touch until you're ready.”

Interesting proposition.

He laid her back down and kissed her again.

“But I need to take this off you.”

“All right.” She sat and felt him pull the nightgown over her head, then heard it hit the floor. She'd never been naked before except during bathtime. It was surprisingly freeing.

She felt his hand at the top of her thigh, just below where it met with her hips.

“Can I touch you here?”

The warmth of his hand felt nice. More than nice. “I think that's all right.”

“Good. Now can I touch you here?” He moved his other hand and cupped her breast again.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy.

“Excellent.”

The hand on her thigh slid up and slightly to the right until it lay across her most intimate part. The touch jolted her, and she released a moan.

“How about here?” he asked.

“Mmmmuh.”

“Perfect. Let's keep going.” He trailed a finger from her breast down her rib cage and landed right on her abdomen.

She grabbed his hand. “Not there.”

“All right. You tell me when you're ready. I want to touch you everywhere, but I'll wait for you.” He kissed her then, allowing his tongue to play with hers. “We've set your limits, and I promise to stay within them.”

“Yes,” was all she could manage.

“May I take your drawers off as well?”

“Then we'll both be naked.”

“That's the general idea.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Relax, I won't do anything you don't want me to. You can trust me.”

“All right.”

“Do you want me to tell you before I do something?”

“No. I think I'm ready.”

“You can touch me too. If you want.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

She tentatively reached out and ran her hand across his chest. His muscles contracted beneath her touch. It was a combination of hard muscle, soft skin, and traces of feathery hair. She wanted to see him. But in order to do that, he'd have to turn the lights back on, and then he'd see her. That was out of the question. She'd have to wait to see him. Perhaps she could catch him changing or taking a bath someday.

He lay very still while her hand explored his torso. She followed a trail of hair that traveled down the length of his hard stomach, and then she bumped right into his sex. He jerked and moaned, and she pulled her hand away. Perhaps it was painful for him to be touched there. How she wished she'd had her mother to ask about these things, or perhaps a book to read for guidance.

The next thing she knew, his mouth was on her breast, and she was biting her tongue not to cry out. His warm mouth teased and taunted her, moving from one breast to the next. Gracious,
she'd never known it could be like this. She wiggled her hips trying to ease the ache that persisted between her thighs.

She allowed her hands to find his back, and she ran her fingernails lightly up and down. He suckled hard on her nipple, and she cried out, arching her back.

He continued to kiss her breasts as his hand slid up her thigh and gently cupped her. No one else had ever touched her there. She'd never even imagined anyone touching her there. And if she had, it wouldn't have been like this. His fingers parted her hair, and she could feel wetness all around.

He slid one finger into her, and she almost lifted off the bed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this hurting you?”

“No.”

“Do you like it?”

“I think so.”

“How about this?” He moved his finger in and out a few times, and she rocked her hips with him.

“Yes.”

“You feel so good.” He again suckled her breast while moving his finger in and out, then in and out again.

She tried to match his rhythm, but her body felt out of control. She needed something, but didn't know what. Knew something was coming, but wasn't sure what it was. But God, it felt good.

Another finger slid in, and she felt his thumb rub against the tiny nub that hid beneath her hair. She cried out his name, and faster and faster he pumped his fingers into her until something happened, and for a moment everything was still and then the world turned on its axis and ripples of pleasure shook her to her toes. She knew she cried out, but she couldn't help it. Never had she felt such amazing pleasure.

“You're so beautiful,” she heard him say through her fog.

He hadn't had his pleasure, of that she was certain. She reached out and placed her hand on his chest. “What about you?” was all she could think to say.

“Are you ready?”

It was her duty as his wife to please him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Give me your hand.” He took her hand from his chest and led it down his stomach and then to the hard length of him. “Touch me here.”

She ran her fingers up the length of him and felt a bit of moisture at the tip, then down to the base where she found crisp hair.

His breathing became shorter, more shallow.

“Like this,” he said as he grabbed her hand and splayed it around his organ. “Now move your hand up and down.”

She did as she was told and reveled in the feel of the soft skin. She hadn't stroked him long before he grabbed her hand.

“No more.” His voice was shaky.

“Was I doing it wrong?”

“No. Perfect, but I need to be inside you now.”

His words tingled down her body.

His hand again found her center, and he inserted two fingers. “I want to make sure you're ready for me. I don't want to hurt you.”

“My mother told me it was painful. But if it will bring you pleasure, then I am ready.”

“I'll try to be as gentle as I can, but you've got me so randy, I don't know how long I can make it.”

He climbed on top of her and kissed her long and hard.

She felt the tip of him inch into her, and then in one swift movement he was inside. Pain burned inside her, and she winced.

“I'm sorry. I know that's painful.”

“I'm fine,” she lied.

He feathered soft kisses all over her face.

“I'm going to move now. I want you to let me know if it's too unpleasant for you, and I'll stop.”

His movements were slow and shallow at first, and it was uncomfortable. His tongue found her nipple, and he suckled her breast until she almost forgot the discomfort between her legs, and then that swirling emotion started again. The climbing feeling that something was coming.

“You feel so good.” His breathing was harder now, his words raspy and raw.

Faster and faster he moved, and higher and higher she climbed. She heard herself moaning again. She pulled her legs up higher, so that she could wrap them around him.

Then again it hit her, harder this time, but faster. Her body spinning out of control as she waited for the spasms to pass. He moaned loudly, then collapsed on top of her while his hot seed poured inside.

They lay silently for a moment, him still inside her, her legs still wrapped around him.

He tilted his head so that his chin rested on her chest. She couldn't see him, but imagined he was giving her that smile of his that made her knees wobble and her mouth go dry.

“I'm going to enjoy being married to you,” he said.

D
errick eyed the older lady standing in his study.

“I came to see Miss Prattley.”

“What's your name?”

“Baubie. I'm her nurse, sir. Well, I suppose I should say maid, but I've been her nurse since she was born.”

“Her name is Middleton now, and she's sleeping.”

The chubby woman wrung her hands and looked about the room.

“Is there a message I can pass on to her?”

“I'm not sure, sir. I'm concerned about something involving her father.”

“Baubie, I want to assure you that I have Claudia's best interest at heart. I don't know what kind of loyalty you have to Lord Kennington, but frankly, he's a bastard, and I would rather my wife cut her ties with him immediately. Seeing as she's rather devoted to him, I don't see that happening. But if you have concerns, please rest assured that you can trust me with them.”

Relief washed over her features, and her shoulders relaxed. “You might be the answer to my prayers. I've been praying that Claudia would find someone to take her away from him. He's a horrible man. Mean. I know that's dreadful of me to say, seeing as he pays my wages and all, but he was awful to Claudia's sweet mother, and he's never been anything but hateful to her. But as you say, she's devoted. Never understood why, except that girl has loyalty running thick in her blood. If she gives you her loyalty, sir, you'd best cherish it, as it will be yours forever.”

Was Claudia loyal to him? He didn't know. He didn't think she trusted him yet. Not completely. But last night was a start.

“Do you want to discuss your concerns with me? Or do you want to wait for Claudia?”

“I don't think it can wait, sir.” She took a few steps closer to him. “I believe Lord Kennington murdered someone.”

He'd known Kennington was a thief and a liar, but a murderer? Nothing was certain yet. He would listen to the entire story, and then decide how to approach Claudia with the news.

“Why don't you sit down.” He led Baubie to the sofa, then took the chair across from her. “What makes you believe this?”

“He came home late the other night, almost morning. I'm a light sleeper, and I could hear him throwing things around in his study. I couldn't go back to sleep after that and got an early start on my work. I went down to check the fire in his study, and he was passed out on his sofa. He smelled awful of brandy, and the decanter lay empty at his feet. No telling how much he drank. That's when I noticed the blood. All over his fingers. Streaks ran down his pants where he'd obviously rubbed his hands.”

“Blood? Was it his?”

“That's what I thought at first. I looked all over as best I could without disturbing his sleep, and there was no other blood in sight. So I looked around a bit to see if there was blood anywhere else in the room. I found a little more on his cane, but that was it. But I did find these, stuffed into the
fireplace.” She reached into her bag and pulled out some paper. Black edged the papers, and smoke had clouded the coloring.

Whatever Kennington had tried to burn that night, he'd failed at doing so. “You pulled these out of the fire?”

“Yes, sir. He's burned papers before. Important papers. Bills. So I reached in and grabbed them, but this isn't bills. These are letters. I didn't read all of them, but it looks like blackmail to me.”

“They're all addressed to a Chester Edwards.”

Derrick's heart sped up. Chester Edwards.

“Will you leave them with me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Will you make certain no harm comes to Claudia?”

“You have my vow.”

She leaned forward and handed him the letters.

“You are welcome to come and work here now. To stay with Claudia.”

“Can't, sir. She made me promise I'd stay and look after her father. Until she knows he'll be fine without her.”

“But if what you believe is true, he could be dangerous.”

She squared her shoulders. “I'm not afraid of him.”

“If you believe he will harm you, leave and come here immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” She worried the material of her faded skirt. “What are you going to tell her?”

“I'm going to do some investigating before I tell her. No need to worry her about this until we know the truth. Her devotion to her father will blind her to his guilt, and we need to protect her. I'm going to take her to my country estate for a few days. See if I can convince her to stay out there for a while. Then I'll come back and figure out what to do.”

“Oh, sir, you must love her indeed.”

He didn't want to disillusion the maid, so he ignored her comment. He would not love Claudia. He refused to do so. They would have a successful marriage without love. People did that all the time, and he and Claudia would be no different.

He desired Claudia, of that he was positive. Last night had only whetted his appetite for her. He respected her. He genuinely liked her and enjoyed her company. But love? He had learned his lesson about that years ago.

It had nothing to do with love. She was his wife, and he'd protect her. That was his duty. “You can be certain that I will do everything I can to keep her safe.”

He would keep her safe. And that meant getting Claudia out of London until he could uncover the truth behind the blood and the blackmail letters.
He was itching to read them, but they would have to wait. Claudia's safety was at hand and that needed to take precedence.

There would be time enough to quench his own curiosity. And perhaps ease some of his guilt.

 

Claudia stretched, arching her back, on the bed. She noted a slight soreness between her legs and felt a blush heat her cheeks. She had been wanton last night. No doubt Derrick thought ill of her. Which might explain why she was in the bed alone.

Thoughts of their lovemaking filled her mind, and she couldn't help but smile. Without ever having other lovers, she instinctively knew Derrick was perfect. He had taken great patience to bring her pleasure, something she'd heard most men avoided.

There was a knock at the door, and then Derrick appeared, carrying a breakfast tray.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

She allowed her eyes to roam over him. She'd never tire of looking at him. He was simply beautiful.

“Thank you. I apologize for lazing about this morning. I am generally an early riser.”

“I kept you up late last night.”

He brought the tray over to her, so she sat up. When the cool air hit her skin, she remembered she was naked. She snatched the sheets and pulled them up to her neck.

“No need to cover yourself on my account. I would love to see you.”

She shook her head. “Not at breakfast.”

He sat next to her and put the tray on the bed. “What's so special about breakfast?”

“It's daylight and morning. It is wrong.”

“Naughty?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He popped a fig into his mouth. “Precisely the way I like it.”

She stared at him, somehow unable to absorb everything that had happened in the last week. Like the fact that at this very moment she sat naked in a bed with Derrick Middleton in front of her. Or that last night he'd done amazing things to her. With his mouth, with his hands, with his…Oh, she couldn't even think it.

“What are you thinking about?”

She met his eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. So she smiled and took a bite of her breakfast.

“Cheater.” He reached out and trailed one finger down her exposed arm. She shivered beneath his touch.

“It's good,” she said, taking another bite.

“I'm glad you like it.”

It was difficult to eat and hold the sheet up at the same time. She tried to tuck the fabric behind her, but it kept slipping, giving him a peekaboo view of her left breast.

“Can you hand me my nightgown?”

He retrieved it for her, then turned around so she could slip it on.

“I know you think I'm being a goose, but I haven't quite accepted the idea of someone seeing me without my clothes on.”

He nodded, then climbed back onto the bed. “Eat. I think for our honeymoon, we'll go into the country for a few days. How does that sound?”

“What about the paper?”

“Mason can handle things while I'm gone.”

She eyed her plate and the figs and bread lying there. She wasn't accustomed to eating in front of men either. Her father had once told her that a woman who ate as much as she did was disgusting. Women should eat tiny portions. So she'd resigned herself to rising earlier than he and eating breakfast before he came downstairs. The other meals she'd taken in her room or at Poppy's. And she never ate refreshments at soirees or parties.

But Derrick wasn't looking at her plate. Instead he focused out the window. He seemed distracted.

“Speaking of the paper”—he turned to face her
again—“you can reveal your identity now. It's your choice. The mystery has served you well. But you shouldn't feel like you have to hide now.”

“I don't know if that would be a good idea.”

He eyed her for a few minutes more. “Unless you want me to strip that shift off you and make love to you right now, I suggest you pack your things for a weekend in the country.”

It was a tempting thought, but with the light flooding the room, it was out of the question.

“Be off with you then, so I may dress properly, and we can be on our way.”

He leaned over her plate and gave her a sultry kiss. “Very well, I shall have the carriage ready.”

 

Derrick stared at Mason. “Are you positive?”

“Yes, sir. I saw it with my own eyes. I walked right past his house on the way to work. They were carrying out a body. I can only assume it was him. There was blood all over the sheet.”

First Baubie's suspicion that Claudia's father had murdered someone, and now Richard turned up dead. Or supposedly dead. What didn't fit was why Lord Kennington would kill Richard. The answer probably lay in those letters Baubie had brought him.

They sat in his coat pocket even now, waiting to be read. He would have taken time to read them
this morning, but he'd wanted to ensure the paper was properly cared for before he took Claudia to the country.

“Do you have any idea who did it?” Mason asked, then without waiting for an answer, he added, “or do you suppose he offed himself?”

“I have a suspicion. And I don't believe he did it himself. Richard was far too vain to kill himself. Not to mention too stupid.”

“Are you going to tell your new bride? She knew him, didn't she?”

“Yes, she knew him. I don't know if I'll tell her. She has a right to know, but I want to confirm it was Richard before I tell her. Send Blakey down to see if he can't get some information for us.”

Blakey had been a wood carver for Derrick since he'd opened the paper. He was the largest man at the paper, possibly in all of London, and he often worked for extra money helping Derrick investigate when the necessity arose. His size alone usually made even the most secretive person spill his secrets. But on occasion he used money to buy the information.

“Mason, I'm going to take Claudia into the country for the weekend. Have a honeymoon of sorts. Can you take care of things here?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you. Send me a post whenever Blakey
gets back. With or without news, I want to be informed. I'll be within riding distance if there are any problems.”

“Yes, sir.” Mason turned to leave, then paused. “Oh and Mr. Middleton, despite the current situation, enjoy your honeymoon and your new bride.”

Derrick waited until Mason had disappeared before pulling out the stack of letters and tossing them onto his desk. He picked up one and fingered the envelope, then stood and walked to the window. Whatever lay in these letters had been the real story behind Chester Edwards's suicide. The story he'd printed all those years ago had implicated a man on charges that he may or may not have been guilty of, and then that man had taken his own life.

Reading those letters, Derrick realized, might release him of all the guilt he'd felt for the last ten years. Or they might confirm he was partly at fault.

He looked back at the desk and eyed the tempting letters. Now another man was dead, and Claudia's father might be at fault.

Walking back to his desk, he picked up the first letter and unfolded it. Burned paper flaked off the edges, and the smell of smoke lingered on the parchment.

One letter after another, the story became more and more clear. Ten years ago the Conservatives
had been in the majority, and Kennington had been the chancellor of finance, the man in charge of all the queen's finances, including the patent office. Claudia's father had blackmailed the patent officer, Edwards, into skimming funds. Somehow Kennington had discovered the truth of a rather sensitive situation with Edwards's daughter. He'd threatened to go public, threatened to ruin her reputation and with it any real chance of her to secure a reputable marriage. Then when he'd tired of the man, or more likely when Edwards threatened to go public with the truth, Kennington had beat him to it by having Richard sell the false story to Derrick.

A story where Kennington had blamed the embezzled funds completely on Edwards. Apparently Edwards hadn't been strong enough to fight Kennington. He'd died, taking the full blame for a scheme much larger than himself, all to protect his daughter's virtue.

How had Derrick been so blind to the connection? Surely there had been clues. He should have realized all this once he discovered Richard's connection with Claudia's father. He'd known there had to have been someone pulling Richard's strings like a puppet. Kennington.

It must have been easy for Kennington to get his snares in Richard at the time. He'd been starved
for power and wealth. Richard had probably banked on Kennington's status aiding him in advancing politically.