His Forbidden Debutante (29 page)

She moved past Aunt Kate’s room confident she would never be detected, her aunt’s hearing loss convenient to secure a fitful rest no matter the disturbance. Her sister and Dash were another story altogether, often awake into the wee hours, but luckily she would not need to pass their bedchamber as the master suites were located at a distance on the other side of the third floor.

Her heart thundered with a mixture of anticipation and excitement when she finally reached the guestroom where Randolph slept. Turning the knob, she entered the dim room lit by a few bedside lanterns and the low-burning fire in the grate. A pitcher of water had been left on the bedside table along with a drinking glass and two clean hand towels. Otherwise the room remained sparse. Slinking nearer the bed, she moved around the curtained post and approached Randolph’s sleeping form.

Her entire body exhaled in relief.

He was there.

Breathing.

Devastatingly handsome as ever.

His lashes cast a shadow across his cheek, his hair crowded his brow, tousled and unkempt, and his mouth… well, it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to lean in and steal a kiss from his lips.

Here lay a fine man. A man she would someday call husband. Such happiness was almost too much to contain. She wouldn’t wake him, but she could dare a little touch, to check if his skin felt feverish. Yes. That seemed a good plan.

She placed her palm across his cheek. Gentle as a leaf falls from a tree to the ground. He turned, from instinct or her disruption she did not know, and his mouth pressed into her palm with a warm, slow kiss.

His eyes opened before she finished her gasp and snatched her hand away.

‘What took you so long?’ His voice sounded gravelly and tired, but incredibly wonderful, too.

‘I had to wait until the house went abed. Every minute felt like an hour,’ she whispered, her eyes blinking rapidly behind her spectacles.

‘Try waiting in an empty roadway with a bullet hole in your shoulder.’ His mouth curled in a wry half smile.

‘Does it hurt?’ What a ridiculous question.

‘Not as much as the thought of never seeing you again.’

Oh, how glad she was she asked it.

‘It was Allington, wasn’t it?’ Her whisper turned vehement with mention of the horrid man.

‘I’ve already spoken to Dashwood who will inform the authorities. I don’t want you to give that unpleasantness another thought.’ He moved his head slightly on the pillow. ‘Will you pour me a little water, love?’

She beamed at the endearment and swiftly supplied the drink, though she wondered if he’d spoken to Dashwood about anything else. When she held the glass up to assist him, he reached for it with his right hand and managed fine.

‘Thank you.’ He stared at her with intense longing and she wondered, did he wish for a kiss as well?

‘Viceroy stayed by your side and Dash has secured him in the stable.’ She hoped to ease any remaining worries he might have. ‘How long did the doctor say you will be with us?’ Best to ascertain all particulars in advance.

‘Not too many days if fever doesn’t become an issue.’ He attempted to straighten his shoulders against the propped pillows at his back. ‘I can’t imagine staying still overlong. I’m not one who does well with confinement.’

She shared a soft laugh. ‘I learned that lesson well when my legs were damaged.’

‘You would never know it now, Livie. You are elegant and beautiful.’ His voice dropped low. ‘When we danced at Monsieur Bournon’s hall I knew I was in trouble.’

‘Trouble?’ She nodded her head in the negative to dismiss the idea.

‘Of falling in love. I foolishly believed I had my life mapped out.’ He turned his palm over on the mattress and she placed hers within, lacing their fingers tight. ‘Fate had other plans.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ She stared at their interlocked hands, the heat of his grasp warming her heart.

‘So how did you pass the hours when you couldn’t leave your room, for I know that will be my future for at least a few days.’ He sounded conciliated with the necessary bed rest.

‘I read your letters. Often. Or wrote a reply. Sometimes I made a list of all I wanted to tell you.’ She smoothed her thumb against the inside of his palm, memorising the feel of his skin. ‘I imagined the things we would do once we met.’

‘Now there’s an intriguing thought.’ He laughed a gruff, amused chuckle, as if he knew a secret and refused to share. ‘So I was your salvation as much as you became mine.’ A little silence ensued. ‘Regrettably, I have lost one of your letters as it was ruined in the accident.’ He scowled as if this upset him greatly. ‘I’ve stained my finest attire as well. Strickler will need laudanum more than I.’

She edged a little closer to the mattress. ‘I wouldn’t worry overmuch. You look wickedly handsome in that borrowed nightshirt.’ She leaned in and whispered the tidbit. ‘And in regard to the letter, I will write you another.’ She swept her fingertips across his mouth to erase his earlier displeasure, though he grinned now.

‘What else will you do to help me feel better, Lavinia?’

His voice had taken on a sultry tone that made every inch of her skin prickle with alert sensitivity. ‘Oh, you must call me Livie.’

‘I’d rather call you
wife
.’ He reeled her closer, using their clasped hands as leverage.

‘Would you?’ She wasn’t sure if she whispered the question or heard it in her mind, but it didn’t matter.

His lips found hers with exacting precision and it was like being able to breathe again after endless anticipation, his mouth on hers, their kiss a reaffirmation of everything meaningful and safe.

He pulled back the slightest and she froze, afraid somehow she’d leaned the wrong way and inadvertently hurt his shoulder.

‘Why don’t you leave your spectacles on the bedside table and climb up here on my right side to keep me company.’

Her eyes flared at his suggestion but she didn’t disregard it. She’d like nothing better than to nestle next to him, but his health was most important. ‘You need your rest.’ He continued to stare at her, his attention a heated invitation, and any weak objection melted on her tongue. ‘Although a few minutes should be all right.’

She moved to the other side of the bed and gingerly situated herself atop the covers, the knowledge he was dressed in nothing more than a nightshirt beneath the counterpane sending her heartbeat into a nervous patter. What was wrong with her? The man had been shot and all she could think about was his strong, hard body, hidden under too many blankets.

‘That’s better.’ He placed his hand atop her thigh and she twitched. ‘I feel as though I’m healing already.’

‘Randolph.’ She really didn’t know what else to say, his claim so foolish yet boundlessly flattering. ‘Do you need me to tend your wound? I’m terrible at this. I should have asked before I came around to this side of the bed.’ She swished her hand against the counterpane in dismissal of her oversight.

‘My wound is fine. The dressing is dry and I don’t need even one more sip of water.’ He chuckled and the vibration rippled through her. ‘Come closer. I can barely reach you.’

She obeyed, shifting on the bed until her elbow was parallel and her body aligned his encased in the counterpane.

‘Now turn a little. It’s hard for me to see you.’

Amusement crept into his voice and Livie caught a smile, aware she was breaking every rule and submitting to his clever manipulation. Still, she adjusted her position until he was content and she sat opposite him where he reclined on the pillow.

‘You forgot to remove your spectacles.’ He reached forward with his right arm and slipped her glasses free. ‘Here you go.’ He pressed them into her hand, aware she’d have to lean across his chest to deposit them on the bedside table.

‘You did that on purpose.’ Her accusation held little conviction as she complied. ‘This is scandalous.’ She tried to adopt a tone of censure but somehow didn’t succeed.

‘Isn’t it, though?’ He nuzzled his face into her hair and she heard him inhale deep as if he wanted to breathe her in. Meanwhile his right hand worked the knot on her silk wrapper.

‘What are you doing?’ She managed to evoke a smidgeon of insincere outrage with the question.

‘Just testing my dexterity. I’ll be using one hand for some time until I mend. I can’t expect my valet to do everything for me, can I?’

Oh, how the man charmed, but she was capable of the same.

Without permission, she trailed her palms up the front of his nightshirt to where the collar fell open and revealed a sinful span of smooth, hard skin. Her fingers stopped short when she touched the edge of the bandage dressing. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘The only way you’ll do that is if you leave now.’ He took her hand and settled it atop the lower blanket, his length rigid against her palm. ‘See how much I need you.’

He shoved at the counterpane bunched at his waist and without delay she assisted, gathering the blanket and pushing it towards the foot of the bed.

She may as well surrender. Deep down, they wanted the same thing, so she uttered not a word when he slid her wrapper over her shoulders, untying the ribbons at her neck and dispensing of her night-rail in the same fashion. The fabric settled around her waist in a soft, silky puddle.

‘Come up on your knees.’

With a shy slant of the eyes she met his demands, though the sudden desire to cover herself left her hands restless at her sides. He smoothed the silky fabric over her hips, watching with virile potency as she wriggled herself free.

‘May I assist?’ Her question was all for naught. Even one-handed, he’d managed to raise the nightshirt above his waist. She merely lifted it clear of his injured arm and he sat as bare as she.

She leaned in for a kiss and her hair swept over his groin, the action causing him to groan with desire. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘You’re killing me.’ He smiled against her mouth. ‘Climb over my hips so I can kiss you properly.’

She smirked as she followed his command, intent on communicating she knew exactly what he was about, but the effort melted in the heat of his kiss. Still she could prove herself just as powerful. Weaving her fingers through his thick hair, she held him tight and lost herself in his kiss. His tongue rubbed against hers in erotic suggestion, and little by little, despite her determination to control the situation, she found herself settled on his lap, the hard, hot length of his cock tucked against her sex.

‘You’re so wet, love.’ He growled a little. ‘And you made
me
out to be the devil.’

‘It’s your fault,’ she managed between kisses, careful to avoid his wound.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he growled against her mouth.

He fondled her breast with one hand, teasing the tip, rubbing in long, slow strokes, and despite she made no conscious decision, her hips began a slow rhythm mimicking his sensual attention, back and forth and again. Each slide forward brought his tongue deeper into her mouth, and while he remained outside her, his cock grew slick from her efforts, harder still.

He groaned and she paused.

‘You feel so good.’ He drew on her tongue, his hold leaving her breast to reach around and clasp her bottom. In one swift movement he angled his hips and buried himself inside her. ‘But that feels even better.’

Her body hugged him tight, the muscles accommodating his hard length and at the same time tightening so each rub brought with it a rush of sensual pleasure. She adjusted atop his lap, sliding forward then back, and he groaned, collapsing against the pillows propped on the headboard, a half smile tilting his mouth.

‘Yes, love, just like that.’ He stared into her eyes, the intensity of the moment filling her as much as his body and she worked against him, back and forth, her thighs clasped tight to his sides as his hands rocked her hips. ‘Don’t stop.’

She wouldn’t dare, the sensitivity coursing through her too divine to sacrifice. She leaned in to find his mouth, take a kiss, her hair pouring down her shoulders to brush their bodies and heighten their erotic abandon as she rode him higher, faster, harder. Unable to clasp his shoulders, she planted her palms on the headboard, shifting her hips upward and down, the rush of gratification when she saw the pleasure he experienced more thrilling than her own need. Still, her sex became unbearably sensitive, the whirling sensation of thrust after thrust too much for her to maintain and she crashed forward, saved by her arms braced against the bed as he lifted one last time, plunged deep and held her there, their climax coming in a force neither one expected.

Randolph played with a wisp of wavy hair that had fallen across Livie’s shoulder. He brushed the end of the lock against her delicate skin and watched as she shivered from the sensation, nestled aside him partially covered by the sheets.

‘I thought you said you were going to sleep.’

Her voice reflected their mood, languid and sated, two lovers who’d exhausted themselves pleasuring each other. His shoulder throbbed with wicked revenge, but he’d be damned if he’d allow Livie the knowledge. He’d never hear the end of it, not to mention she’d worry, and he wouldn’t cause her the unnecessary emotion. He’d heal in time.

He’d once believed he needed to choose a wife to complete his life, like a puzzle that waited for one last piece. But he realised now, he was just beginning to build the mosaic of his future. With hope there would never be completion; whether the addition of a child or unpredicted experience to broaden their horizons and enrich their lives, he’d embrace the unknown adventures with Livie by his side.

‘I am.’ He wondered if she still waited for his answer. He’d become lost in thought and she’d risen to busy herself with dressing.

‘You need your rest and I’ve done the opposite, causing you to exert yourself.’

She had the most adorable scowl on her face.

‘I have no regrets.’

‘Exactly.’

A scathing admonishment may have been her goal, but he heard cheeky amusement in each syllable.

She tied the belt of her wrapper with a quick swish and hurried to his side of the bed. ‘I will visit you after breakfast. I’d rather not ignite the wrath of Dash if at all possible.’