EscapeWithMe (16 page)

“Yet it achieves excellent results.” The distraction nearly
had him topple a man walking in the opposite direction. “Pardon me, sir.”

Laughter bubbled out of Samantha. “Oh don’t make me laugh. I
can barely breathe as it is.” When straight was no longer an option, they
turned again.

The Dark Walk’s proper name was Lover’s Walk, but owing to
the lofty trees on either side of the lane, the boughs of which formed a canopy
above and shielded the walk from the glow of the garden’s many oil lamps, the
former name was more oft used. One could still see the lamps glittering through
the trees, however, and the birdsong of nightingales heightened the intimacy.

“This is beautiful.” Samantha was breathless, though perhaps
from the exercise. She slid her hand into the bend of his elbow once more and
his chest expanded at the touch.

In the darkness, he spied groups of all sorts, some drinking
and merry. Couples embraced and by the gasps, some of them were doing more than
that.

She clutched his arm against her breast. “Oh my God. I can’t
tell for sure but—”

“You would be correct, madam.” She gasped as though
scandalized, but he could discern the amusement in her expression.

“The more things change…”

“Pardon?”

“Uh, nothing.”

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and he instinctively turned
to engage, pushing Samantha behind him. No one would fault him for dressing
Webb’s hide—no one would see in this dark lane.

“At ease, lieutenant.” The man’s chuckle was familiar. Ryder
smiled.

“Captain Williams.” They shook hands. “It’s good to see you
again. May I introduce Samantha Reed?” She came around and offered her hand as
though expecting a handshake. Williams deftly turned her wrist and brought her
fingers to his lips. He looked much the same as he had three years ago when
Ryder had served aboard his ship. Tall, broad-shouldered, his straight, black
hair tied back. He hated wigs as much as Ryder did. He also disliked shaving.

The only discrepancies were his civilian attire and a smile
on his face rather than his usual snarl.

“Enchanting,” Williams vowed. He released Samantha’s fingers
a second before Ryder would have snatched them back. “Wherever did he find you,
Miss Reed?”

Her answer was sly. “I answered his advertisement.”

Williams’ unabating smile was perfectly discernible. Ryder
changed the topic.

“How have you been, sir?”

“Sitting upon thorns.” Williams shifted as though the
metaphor were true. “My lady mother would have me marry but why deprive the
ladies of London my excellent company when I am yet in my prime?”

“You haven’t met the right woman,” Samantha answered.

“Right you are.” Williams tapped the air in front of him. “I
must quickly enjoy as many as possible.”

“I guess that’s one way of doing it. Just don’t contract a
venereal disease.”

Williams burst with laughter, yet a flare of anger seared
through Ryder’s chest. Williams wiped his finger under his eye. “Sound advice.”
His former captain then lowered his voice, though his smile did not fade. “What
investment opportunity brings me to so surreptitious a scene, lieutenant?”

“The kind that yields considerable profit if the king is
denied his share.”

“Ah, a bit of free trade? I’m in.”

“But…I’ve not told you the cargo or the margin or—”

“It’s probably for the best that I know as little as
possible. All I need to know is the amount of my investment. You were one of my
best officers, West. I am quite certain the risk is minimal.”

Samantha stepped closer. “A thousand pounds. You’ll have
your profit in a month.”

Williams made a deep noise of approval. “I knew I liked you,
Miss Reed.”

“And you learned that without us taking off our clothes,”
she said flippantly.

His former captain laughed. “As you well know, it can be
done while wearing clothes.” Ryder’s temper flared at their repartee.

“A thousand then. Would settling by bank draft be agreeable
with you,
sir
?” Samantha eased back a step at his biting tone. Williams
clapped him on the shoulder again, as though nothing were ill.

“It would, lieutenant. You have my address.” The captain
adjusted his grip on the hat tucked beneath his arm. “I would keep this one if
I were you, and certainly inform me if you do not intend to.” At Samantha’s
gasp, Williams turned and walked away.

Ryder took hold of her arm. “Do you flirt with every man to
whom you speak?” She jerked out of his grasp.

“Talking with a man counts as flirting?”

He stepped close, his legs touching her skirt. “Alluding to
the number of women he enjoys and the state of their undress is not an innocent
conversation.”

“Aren’t I supposed to play a part here, Ryder? A mistress
found amongst the whores in a brothel shouldn’t act shy, should she?”

“A part you play adeptly.” He regretted it the moment he
said it. He knew very well he had been her first lover, that she had no great
experience in seducing men. In fact, she seemed to simply have the talent
naturally.

Her lack of response told him he had hit upon a nerve. He
fought for something to say to explain his harsh words and beg forgiveness. She
had smiled at Webb, had certainly given him the impression of carnal interest,
and the revenue officer had instantly reciprocated. Her quick retorts to
Williams’ prodding had his former captain openly admiring her. He had even
offered to take her off Ryder’s hands.

Had she done the same with the duke? Had she practically
invited him to enjoy her body? He remembered her face when the cell door had
opened at the watch-house. Her cheek was puffy from the impact of a man’s fist.
Her clothes were soiled. Her hands, feet and face were dirty. Her tears had
carved paths through the layer of dust on her cheeks. Most of all, he
remembered the utter misery in her expression, as though the night had changed
her.

If he asked about the duke, would she tell him? If she did,
would he regret hearing her answer?

“I…I flirted with Webb because I thought it’d make him feel
awkward. Make him think I was happy with you.” Her attempt to explain only
intensified the ache in his chest. What was this feeling she evoked? “Captain
Williams was teasing me, and I didn’t want to back down. Anyway, I don’t think
that would’ve made you look good.”

“Are you happy with me?” He said it all in a rush. Why did
he need to know? She was with him for practical reasons, and that should be enough
for him. He didn’t need anything more.

Yet he found himself clenching his hands as she breathed in
to answer.

Ryder was jealous. Sam almost couldn’t believe it, but he
was obviously jealous. His anger about Webb she could understand—the guy was
not high on his list of favorite drinking buddies. He seemed pretty chummy with
Captain Williams though. She would’ve thought he’d be laughing along with them,
but that was so not the case.

He asked if she was happy with him, though the real question
to which he wanted an answer was if
he
madeher happy. She didn’t
know. He made her feel a lot of things, most of them conflicting, most of them
out of their collective hands. How was he to overcome her shame over how they
had met? She had been in a whorehouse, a fact she’d not readily admit if
speaking to someone who didn’t already know.

How was she to overcome her gratitude for what he had done
to shut down the brothel and fetch her from the watch-house? For taking her
somewhere safe and clothing her in more than a shift? For giving her a chance
to have a task other than look presentable in a dress? For showing anger when
someone hurt her? For looking at her the way he did…

Did he make her happy? Was that an emotion she could feel
when she was in such a stressful state? Seeing a familiar sculpture had put her
in panic mode. The locket had tipped her off to visit Vauxhall, but she had
discovered no pertinent information as to why she had pulled off an H.G. Wells
and woken more than two hundred years in the past.

The long silence was stifling. The pressure of his gaze was
tangible. He was standing so close.

She took a deep breath. “I feel many ways when I’m with you,
but yes, happiness is one of them.” It wasn’t an ardent declaration of utter
fulfillment, but it was the truth. It was also a serious understatement of how
strongly she felt.

His sigh was soft, though not one of relief. “Samantha, I…”

“I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. I know that much.”

It seemed to be what he needed to hear. His arms slipped
around her. His face ducked close. She tasted the punch he had consumed with
his dinner, sweet and likely spiked with liquor. Her heart swelled.

The trills of nightingales and the muted sounds of the
orchestra filled the silence as they kissed. The night was cooling. He stepped
even closer, his boots sliding under the hem of her skirt. His hands smoothed
up the back of her bodice and cradled her head. She closed her fingers around
the tail of his hair. Her other hand squeezed the hard muscle of his shoulder.

Warmth churned inside her. It spread to her limbs, her face.
The pressure of his kisses increased, his tongue delving deeper. Her lips were
tingling and puffy. She pulled him in tighter and the buttons of his coat dug
into the exposed flesh of her bust. Her corset felt tight. She was breathing
hard.

Their lips broke apart. He groaned and sucked at the skin on
her neck. She took in a shaky breath, lifting her chin and leaning away to give
him room. Her hands gripped his biceps as he laid a gentle kiss in the hollow
of her throat, right above her locket. Everywhere he kissed prickled. The neck
of the bodice was revealing and she was glad for it when he laid his lips on
the bare part of her shoulder. It sent a shock directly to her sex.

Right below the edge of her stiff corset, through all the
layers of clothing between them, she felt the hardness that betrayed his
arousal. God, even without the help of two glasses of champagne, she was ready
and willing. His apartment seemed so far away. She slipped her hand between them
and cupped her palm against his cock, wishing she could wrap her fingers around
it and feel the satiny skin slide up and down its length. He barely stifled his
reaction. His hips pressed hard into her touch.

“How do I get this open?” She tugged at the fore-flap of his
breeches. He gave a gruff sigh.

“Samantha.” He gripped her arms and pulled her off the
gravel lane. He found the darkest shadow he could and the trunks of two
close-standing trees provided them some cover, but not much. Her white dress would
be easy enough to spot if someone were looking. She faintly saw his hands at
his breeches and then he embraced her again. Their lips came together. When her
hand went exploring, she moaned against his lips to find the fore-flap was open
and she slipped her fingers inside. There he was.

His hips bucked when she fisted him. His cock was thick with
need, warm and stiff. She pumped her hand, wanting to hear the hitch in his
breath, wanting to feel his body shudder and writhe. He pulled his mouth away
and laid his cheek against hers. With the tree at her back and his body braced
over her, her senses were surrounded. His hands were tight on her arms. She
could smell that cream he used; his cheek was still smooth from shaving. The
sounds he made. His body heat seeping into her…

She ached for him.

He evidently had the same idea. “I want to be inside you.”

Ryder pulled her hand from him and turned her around. He
grabbed the back of her skirt, found the hem and searched under the layers.
Surely this would be too awkward.

“It’s all right. You don’t need t—”

She gasped when his hands found the ribbons holding up her
stockings. Fluffing the skirt over his arms, he stepped close and grabbed her
hips. Still in disbelief, she instinctively leaned forward and braced her hands
on the tree.

Oh. My. God.

The angle was perfect. He slid right in and she bit her lip
hard. He waited only a few seconds for her to relax and then he was thrusting
hard and fast. His firm hold on her hips put him deep every time.

She was going crazy. It felt so good and she couldn’t scream
with pleasure, though she wanted to. She couldn’t groan, couldn’t gasp too
loud. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the burgeoning warmth, the shocking
sparks of pleasure.

He took one of his hands from her hips and braced it on the
tree. She felt the weight and warmth of his chest on her back. Jesus, his mouth
was right next to her ear and his cock was still pounding her vagina.

“Do you want to cry out?” he whispered. She shivered.

“Y-yes.” As soft as her voice was, she worried it was too
loud.

A deep noise fell from his lips. He laid his hand over hers.
“I would not care if you did.” Hell, she was starting not to care either. The
only thing stopping her was that someone might interrupt before they finished.

She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to know if anyone was
watching them with shock. She only wanted Ryder and what he made her feel.
Desired.

Dizziness washed over her. A pulse deep in her belly, and
pleasure bloomed, racing up her body just under her skin. She released a
breathy moan. His hand tightened over hers and he took his other hand from her
hip. His cock left her and she heard a hiss, then a rough sigh. Her legs shook.
She tried to catch her breath.

After a few seconds, Ryder straightened his clothes and then
stepped back. He shook out her skirt and it draped properly without fuss. Only
her tousled hair and pink cheeks would be any clue as to what they had just
done.

She didn’t know what to say as she fanned her face. It
seemed Ryder didn’t either. They stepped around the tree to emerge onto the
gravel path, but someone stood there.