More Than a Lover (11 page)

‘This lady will give you all the red ribbons you want,' the abbess said. ‘Won't you, ma'am?'

‘I am sure we can find some,' Caro said. ‘Come along, Linny.'

The girl took her hand and they walked out.

Blade lingered a moment and addressed himself to the abbess, while keeping a watchful eye on her man. ‘I'll be dropping by from time to time to make sure you keep your word to the lady.'

The ruffian made a move in his direction. Blade put his hand in his pocket, closing his fingers around the pistol grip.

The abbess put up a hand. She gave Blade a knowing look. ‘I'll wager the loss of your hand don't hamper you much, does it, Mr Read?'

‘Not much,' he acknowledged.

‘Any time you fancy to sample the wares here, sir, you'll be welcome. Girls love a soldier in or out of uniform.'

He bowed. ‘Unlikely, ma'am. But I will keep it in mind.'

The woman grinned. Her man smirked.

Blade strode out on Caro's heels relieved nothing had happened, but also with the disquieting sense it had all been much too easy.

* * *

‘It's a lovely dress,' Caro said, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing so as not to distress the newest occupant of the Haven.

Linny looked far from certain about the sprig muslin Caro had found among the gowns she had purchased in the market for just such an event. Respectable clothes, usually cast-offs given to ladies' maids and then sold on.

‘You said I'd have red ribbons,' the girl said sadly. ‘Everyone keeps promising me red ribbons and then never gives me them.'

‘I'm sorry,' Caro said with as much patience as she could muster. ‘I will go to the market first thing in the morning and purchase you some.'

‘Can you not go now?'

‘Sadly, no. The market is closed.'

A sharp knock heralded Mr Read's entrance.

Caro tried not to bristle. It was none of her business that both the doorman and the abbess had recognised him. He was a man. And men did as they wished, but she was disappointed.

In fact, her stomach had sunk and her heart had ached at the knowledge he was known at that place. She had no right to feel disappointed. He was a single gentleman who would take his pleasures where he could find them. And the fact that she had been weak enough to let him find them with her was her own stupid fault.

At least there would be no unfortunate results this time. Yet she could not think of Tommy that way. Not for a minute.

Mr Read's gaze took in the tea tray. ‘It seems I am just in time.'

‘Apparently so,' Caro said in a slightly sharper tone than she had intended.

She just wished he didn't look so handsome and charming with his wickedly sensual smile.

He looked over at Linette. ‘May I compliment you on your appearance, Miss Linette? The colour of that gown shows your eyes to advantage.'

Far too charming. ‘What did I tell you, Linette?'

The girl tossed her head. ‘It doesn't have red ribbons.'

Mr Read reached into his inside breast pocket and withdrew a small packet wrapped in brown paper. ‘I stopped at Mrs Fitch's after I left you here.' He winked at Caro.

Winked! How had she fallen to the level of being winked at? No gentleman winked at a respectable woman. But then, she wasn't respectable, was she? Hadn't been for a very long time. It had all been an act. One he'd now seen right through. How very lowering.

Eagerly, Linette took the package and tore open the paper. A tumble of red ribbons fell into her lap. She gazed at Mr Read with a huge smile. ‘Now you are what I calls a proper gent.'

A stab of jealousy pierced Caro's breast, causing a hitch in her breathing. She could not be jealous, not of this child and not when, as she had repeatedly told herself, what they had enjoyed was merely physical.

‘Mrs Falkner asked me to purchase them for you,' he said.

An out-and-out lie for which Caro felt stupidly grateful.

The girl gave Blade a considering look before she smiled at Caro. ‘Thank you, ma'am.'

‘You are welcome,' Caro said primly, deciding that arguing the point in front of the girl would be senseless. As well as undermining to her authority. ‘I was not sure Mr Read would find any given the lateness of the hour.'

‘Can I wear them?' the girl asked.

‘You may. Go and ask Beth to help put one in your hair. Then she will take you up to join Tommy in the schoolroom. We can decide what to do with the rest of the ribbons later.'

The girl got up, bobbed a curtsy and left.

‘May I pour you some tea?' Caro asked Blade.

‘Thank you.' He cast her his seductive smile and she tried to ignore the melting going on inside her. And the longing.

‘You don't know how grateful I am at this moment,' she said. ‘I was at my wits' end. All she could think about were red ribbons.'

She passed him his tea. He took the cup and set it on the table beside his right hand, which must be why he'd chosen that particular chair in the first place. He'd assessed the room and taken the only chair where it would be easy for him to manage the teacup, like a soldier assessing the position of his enemy on a battlefield. He was a very intelligent man. Clever.

And that was why he, and not she, had thought of buying the ribbons.

He sipped at his tea. ‘So, what will you do with her?'

‘She says she wants to be a nursemaid.'

He frowned. ‘Do you think she's old enough to be given the care of a nursery?'

‘One thing is certain—for all her simple ways and small stature, she is a good deal older than fourteen.' She heaved a sigh. ‘It seems once more I have been gulled by that woman. Still, I do feel Linny does not belong in that place. I have asked her to keep Thomas amused while Beth is standing in for Cook. It will give me an opportunity to judge how she handles responsibility. Once I feel she is ready, I will look around for a position with a family with young children.'

‘She cannot return to her own home?'

A spurt of anger rose in her breast at how easily she'd fallen for their tales. ‘All that talk of a father selling her to pay his debts was a tarradiddle, apparently. She says she's an orphan and was put out to service. She left her last employer because they treated her badly and ended up at the bordello a few months ago. They lured her in with the promise of lots of red ribbons. They've been teaching her to act the child.'

‘You believe this story?'

How did he know she wasn't quite satisfied with what the girl had told her? ‘I think she is hiding something.' She winced. ‘But she seems sincere in her wish for a new start.'

He frowned. ‘You want me to talk to the abbess?'

‘What, so that I can ask for my money back?' She shook her head. ‘No, I won't do that. And my mistake won't cost Lord Tonbridge a penny. I used my own money.'

‘A great deal of money.'

She sighed. It was the money she was setting aside for Thomas's schooling. She would just have to be more careful in future. ‘I could not let her stay in that place.'

He looked grim, but said nothing and took another sip of his tea.

* * *

Caro looked exhausted, Blade thought. And worried. Deep inside he knew it was his duty—no, his very great pleasure—to take that worry from her shoulders. If only she would allow it. But how to do it when the woman was set about with defences that even Wellington could not breach?

‘You were extraordinary today,' he said.

She stiffened. ‘I apologise if you consider my behaviour inappropriate.'

Was that what she believed he thought? Her lack of trust ran bone deep. Once more he wondered who had made her so suspicious of the motives of others. He took a sip of tea and considered how best to allay her fears. ‘You misunderstand me,' he finally said. ‘You were reckless. Foolhardy in the extreme.' Her face became a rigid mask of indifference. ‘And also marvellously brave. I am in awe of your courage.'

Her posture relaxed, somewhat. A crease formed between her brows, as if she did not quite understand what he was trying to tell her. He wanted to kiss away that little frown, but knew she would not be pleased at such a gesture of affection. Not yet.

‘It is not the sort of thing a respectable woman should be about,' she said. ‘But with the information I had, I could see no alternative course of action.'

She would have come to him and asked him to handle it,
if
he'd had her trust. He ignored the pang of disappointment. It would require a great deal of effort to earn this woman's trust. It would be like fighting the French on the Iberian Peninsula, moving forward inch by inch, until a last final rush carried the day.

Or defeat stared him in the face. What was it they had used to say before battle? The risk was worth the prize. And he had won an inch of ground—she had asked for his escort.

‘If respectable women would help their troubled sisters more often, as you did today, then perhaps—' Hell, he had not meant to think of his mother. Of her downward spiral. Had someone like Caro come along things might have been different. He might have been different.

‘Perhaps?' she asked, breaking into his unwanted memories.

‘Perhaps the world would be a better place for all.'

For a moment he thought she would question him further, but she did not. She would not pry, because she did not feel she had the right. In one way he was glad of it; in another, the past seemed to weigh him down more than usual. He almost opened his mouth to speak of it. To share the guilt of it. Almost.

She breathed deep. An inward sigh.

‘You are upset,' he divined.

Surprise filled her eyes. She stretched her neck as if it was stiff. ‘A little.'

More than a little. He got up and went around behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder, felt the tension. He rubbed a slow circle with his thumb. Then another and felt some of the tension leave her. But not all. ‘You are also angry.'

She sighed. ‘I am angry that a young woman was taken advantage of for the sake of a few red ribbons. I am angry that another woman would actually condone the ruination of so young a girl.'

He dug deeper with his fingers and she groaned. Her shoulders drooped; her head fell forward. ‘How do you know how to do that?'

‘My mother taught me.' His fingers moved over her nape, caressing, massaging the knot of muscle at the base of her neck.

When had he ever mentioned his mother to anyone?

‘That is blissful.' She made a soft sound of pleasure that went straight to his groin.

Not nearly blissful enough.

‘And you are angry at yourself,' he suggested gently.

She shot a glance over her shoulder like a warning volley, then slumped back against the cushions. ‘I was so terrified about going into that place I could scarcely speak for the way my heart rose in my throat. Then, once I was there, it was as if I was watching things happen from a long way off. Watching myself speak so calmly, so determinedly and wondering who that woman could possibly be.' She smiled. ‘Now I feel as if I have not an ounce of strength left.'

‘The same thing happens to soldiers facing a battle,' he said. ‘The initial fear and excitement of what is to come. Then the attack. Fear is gone, pain is gone, and everything comes down to one slow minute after another of fighting for your life.'

He ceased his massaging, but left his hand on her shoulder, knowing the warmth would also help. ‘Better?'

‘Much better.' In a gesture of gratitude, she covered his hand with one of hers. A gentle giving touch. The delicacy of her small white hand against the brown of his blunt-fingered paw a stark contrast. Unable to resist, he kissed her fingers, then the vulnerable place where feather-light tendrils of hair skimmed her nape.

She exhaled a breath. ‘We must not. Someone might come in.'

His groin tightened at the unspoken promise. He strode to the door and turned the key.

‘Blade,' she said, her voice attempting scandalised but sounding breathy with longing, her eyelids heavy with sensual need. ‘It is the middle of the day.'

‘All the better to see you, my lady.'

‘You would play the wolf?'

The hound panted its agreement. He gave her a look that told her given the chance he would gobble her up and she smiled. A beautiful welcoming smile.

In a few swift strides, he returned to stand behind her again. Began the gentle massage of her neck and shoulders all over again, though this time she was already soft and pliant beneath his fingers. With a sigh she gave herself up to the pleasure.

A surrender that caused him to harden to iron in his breeches.

For all her outward primness, she was a creature of sensuality. Of great passion. She lowered her head, leaned forward, to give him better access to the muscles across her shoulders. To rouse her to new heights of pleasure, to show her what pleasure a man should give his woman, when her husband had not, was an imperative he could not afford to give in to. He wanted her for himself. Wanted to sink into her heat. Lose himself to the wonders of her lovely warmth and never give her up when a dalliance was all this could ever be. Because in the end, she would give him up and he didn't need the pain of any more losses.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her shoulder. She shivered.

He kissed the side of her neck, nibbling with his lips, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth while his hand continued to ease the tension across her shoulders. He rubbed circles with his thumb and massaged with his fingers. With two hands he had been so much more adept, but she did not seem to care.

His lips explored her jawline. She turned her head so their lips met.

Without breaking from the lovely feeling of her mouth on his, he came around to the front of the sofa and leaned over her, the better to access the bounty she offered. She pulled him down, her mouth opening to welcome his tongue.