Never Entice an Earl (20 page)

Havering hurtled out of the shadows. Cormack caught him by the arm.

“What has happened?”

“Raikes. Oh, thank God.” The crowd jostled them from all sides, shoving them together.
Fox looked at him only briefly, before his eyes returned to search the crowd. “From
what I observed, a large mob broke through the boundaries and someone shot a gun in
the air. They are just ruffians, I think, intent on petty thievery and wreaking havoc,
but everyone panicked and scattered. I can’t find the ladies. They aren’t with Kincraig.
He was off in the shadows with some strumpet when all this took place.”

“I know,” Cormack shouted above the din. “I was with him.”

“What?” Fox’s eyes darkened.

“I’ll explain later. Do you think the ladies were together?”

“I fear not. They were all at different corners of the dance floor when the melee
broke out.”

“If you find Her Ladyship or the girls, take them to the base of the large tree near
the Pavilion entrance. I’ll do the same. We’ll meet there and escort them out.”

Not waiting a moment more, they both returned to the fray.

Just knowing Daphne was lost in the churning tumult struck panic into Cormack’s heart.
She could already have been trampled, assaulted, or worse. Far worse. He couldn’t
think about it. He just had to find her. He plowed into the crowd, pushing and shoving
through, searching every face and shadow. He scooped up an older woman from where
she’d fallen, and a moment later planted his fist in the face of a brute who ripped
an old soldier’s medals from his chest. Then, amidst all the shouts and pleas for
calm, he heard a shrill scream. His blood went cold, because without a doubt he recognized
her voice. He dove toward the trees, praying his ears and sense of direction did not
betray him.

He found her there, surrounded by four toughs, three men and a woman. She wielded
a small tree branch in her hand, and swung it fiercely each time one of them lunged
close. He rushed toward them.

“Stay away!” she warned. Her hair had fallen free of its pins, and her silk gown sagged
off one shoulder, in tatters. Rage blurred his vision. What had they done to her,
to put her in such a state? Her hair and neck still sparkled with jewels—likely only
paste, but no doubt that was what her attackers were after.

“We can take y’ down hard or easy, my lady,” threatened one of the men. “Yer choice.”

“Come near me, and you’ll be the one going down.” She tightened her grip on the branch.
“And you won’t be coming up again!”

“I want ’er dress,” the woman shouted. “Don’t tear it any more than it already is.”

Just as Cormack grew near enough to attack, one of the men lunged, shoving her from
behind. With a cry, she spun round, swinging the branch and clocking the fellow on
the side of his head. Yet in a flash, the harpy attacked her from behind. The two
others followed.

The same blackness he’d experienced in the alleyway the first night he’d met her threatened
to overtake him again. He leapt onto the attackers, who were so intent on tearing
the jewels from her hair and neck they didn’t see him. With a shout, he wrenched them
off her. Fists flew and met flesh, and when it was all done, he triumphantly carried
her out from the trees.

“I’m so glad you are here.” She clung to him, pressing her face to his neck. “Did
you see me hit that big one with the stick?”

“I did,” he murmured, his lips against her temple, letting the scent of her fill his
nostrils. “I am so very proud of you.”

She stiffened in his arms. “My mother, and my sister—where are they, do you know?”

“Havering’s looking for them. I’m certain they’re safe.”

“You’re bleeding, but I can’t tell from where.” Her hand touched his face. “Does anything
hurt?”

He carried her to the base of the tree, where he and Fox had agreed to meet. Scores
rushed past them toward the gate, certainly intent on escaping the garden for the
night. Several park wardens rushed in, blowing their whistles and bellowing for order.

Cormack exhaled roughly. “You’re bruised, on your cheek.”

“I’m safe, because of you.” Her hand curled inside his. “It’s all that matters.”

“Are you hurt? Anywhere that I can’t see? Did they touch you?” His gaze and his hands
moved over her, searching for any other injury or sign of trespass.

She allowed his inspection. “They only dragged me into the trees, and that awful woman
pulled my hair, I suppose trying to get at these worthless crystals.”

Damn him to hell, he couldn’t stop looking at Daphne with her torn silk dress and
a bruise on her cheek, safe and in his arms. He’d never been more enraged or relieved,
and couldn’t imagine ever releasing her from his arms again, so intense was his desire
to protect her.

After a moment, Havering appeared, gasping for breath. “You found her! Is she harmed?”

“Stop talking about me like I’m unconscious,” Daphne insisted. “Do you see my eyes
open?”

Despite everything, Havering flashed a grin. “And for that I am relieved. Take her,
Raikes, and get her far from here.”

“Do you think the river would be faster?” Cormack asked.

“I fear any departing boat will be so overcrowded it might overturn. No, take the
carriage. We’ll all meet at Wolverton’s.”

“But my mother, and Clarissa,” cried Daphne, her hands fisting in Cormack’s shirt.
He soothed her with a whisper, and a gentle stroke to her hair.

Fox replied, “Kincraig found them, just moments ago. He’s taken them to his carriage
and will see them home.”

“What about you?” asked Daphne.

Gunfire sounded again, and they all ducked.

“Bloody hell!” Cormack swore, doing his best to shelter her with his body.

Havering backed away. “I’m going in with the wardens to show them where that idiot
with the gun has holed himself away. He thinks he’s hidden, but I saw the muzzle flash.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a ride and rejoin you later. Go, now, get her to safety.”

As soon as they emerged from the gate, a familiar whistle rent the air, the one that
only he and Jackson used. Carriages cluttered the road, with the ladies and gentlemen
of the
ton
crowded inside them, some even hanging off the sides. Again, he swept Daphne into
his arms and carried her to the steps where Jackson waited at the door, slamming it
behind them, and scrambling back on top.

Inside, he exhaled in relief, with Daphne still held fast in his arms, her arms wrapped
just as tightly around his neck and shoulders. The carriage veered and tilted. Apparently
his new driver had exceedingly good driving skills, because a glance out the window
showed them plowing half onto the pedestrian pavement to pass the outer row of waiting
carriages, which greatly advanced their position on the crowded road. He only hoped
the man didn’t get them killed.

Still, they would be going nowhere fast, which put him in a torturous predicament,
being that Daphne Bevington, his greatest mortal weakness, presently plastered herself
against him so tightly he could feel the delicious swell of her breasts through his
shirt. He closed his eyes, and did his best to calm his rapidly beating heart, and
the agitated arousal that coursed through his blood, certainly a result of the fear
and excitement they’d just experienced.

“You are safe now.” He released his hold on her and made a gentle attempt to pry her
free.

She allowed the separation, but made no move to increase it. Half draped across him,
she peered up at him like a sleepy-eyed mermaid and said nothing. Light from the carriage
lamps shone through the window, revealing the curve of her bare shoulder, and the
pale upper half moons of her breasts.

“You should go and sit over there. On the other bench.” Thank goodness the carriage
shop had returned the bench completely refurbished and in proper working order so
they could each have their own comfortable seat.

“I don’t want to,” she answered in a hushed voice.

“Daphne, this afternoon at the Monument you made a very smart decision, and I’m trying
my damnedest to do the right thing by you—”

Her hands came up beneath his jaw, and she silenced him with a kiss, her eyes open
and staring straight into his.

He held himself rigid, fighting the urge to touch her, to twist his hands into her
hair and to push her down onto the cushion where he could spread his body atop hers.

She blinked, and breathed against his mouth, slowly sliding the tip of her tongue
across his lower lip, before sucking it into her mouth and giving it a little bite.

He groaned. She sighed, tilting her head and kissing him more deeply, her hands moving
up into his hair. His cock stirred. Then, more than stirred.

When was the last time he got hard just from a kiss? Oh, hell.

D
aphne. I’m serious now. Go sit on the other bench.”

“It’s just a kiss,” Daphne whispered.

He smelled so good. She had never smelled anything so divine. She wanted to inhale
him, and taste him. Yet she’d known he would protest. Indeed, she would have been
disappointed if he hadn’t.

“I thought we had decided not to do any more of this kissing.” He peered at her intently.
“Remember?”

“I do remember,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, but Cormack. You just
saved my life for the second time. I can’t help it. I want to kiss you. Won’t you
just please stop throwing my own words at me and…kiss me back?”

She heard the sound of his breath catch in his throat, as instantly, he pressed his
mouth to hers. Pleasure coursed through her in warm, joyful waves of bliss.

He had always initiated the kissing before, letting her know that he found her desirable.
This time, she wanted to be the one to communicate the same.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked raggedly, against her lips.

“For being you. A hero. Not just to me. To Kate, to my mother. To your dear sister.”

She held his face in her hands, and pressed butterfly-soft kisses across his nose
and cheeks and eyelids, as he whispered her name. His hands gripped her arms, as if
he intended to stop her…but he didn’t.

With a sigh, she explored lower, parting the linen at his throat, and pressing a trail
of kisses down the center of his chest. An odd, strangled sound burst from deep in
his throat, one that pleased her.

“Daphne, no.” His entire body quaked. “You’re confused. You just survived a terrifying
ordeal.”

“It’s just kissing—”

“No, it’s
not
just kissing.” He gripped her by the arms, and gave her a solid shake, his gaze burning
into hers. He was trying to be noble, which only made her want him more. “You are
innocent, and you can’t know what you do to me with just a kiss. A look. With just
a toss of your hair.”

“Cormack, I know what I said at the Monument this afternoon, that I couldn’t go any
further, because I wouldn’t be able to let you go when the time came. But tonight,
out there under the lanterns, under the stars, I realized that neither can I let you
go now.”

“I can’t marry you, and if I can’t marry you,
this
will not occur.” He shook her again.

“I don’t want you to marry me. I just want to be close to you, whatever that means,
even if it’s just for tonight.”

“What are you saying?” His gaze flared with heat.

“That I want you, Cormack,” she said unsteadily, terrified of speaking the words aloud,
yet knowing they had to be said. “That I want
us
, right now. I know what I mean by that. I may be inexperienced, but I’m not misinformed.”

Suddenly he was gone from her arms, and she was left with an empty bench. She twisted
round to find him in the distant corner, arms outstretched along the walls and his
long legs bent at the knees, staring at her through glassy eyes. “Don’t do this to
me.”

He looked so tall, and handsome and tortured, that she almost laughed.

“I made the decision never to marry, Cormack. That doesn’t mean I intended to die
a virgin.”

He closed his eyes and cursed. “You don’t know what you are saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” She crossed the space between them, sinking between
his knees, and closing her hands over his. “One day I fully intend to be everyone’s
favorite old maiden aunt, one with a beautiful secret.” She smiled, her countenance
flushed and bright. “Please give me this memory. I want it to be you.”

“Old maiden aunt, my eye,” he answered vehemently, his gaze moving over her face,
then lower to her breasts, which rested between his open thighs. Fully aware that
her torn gown gaped, she held still, allowing him to take his fill of the view. “You
ought to find someone special and marry. This memory you ask for should belong to
him.”

“There’s not going to be a husband. I belong only to me,” she answered fiercely, squeezing
his hands. “And I want to share this with you.”

“I’ve no right—”

“But
I
have every right,” she whispered, running her hands up the tops of his muscled thighs…over
his pelvis…and up his rigid stomach, allowing her curiosity to lead her. Feeling the
powerful flex and seize of his muscles beneath her palms, her mouth went dry with
what she knew to be desire.

His hands came to either side of her face, suddenly and fiercely, his expression a
portrait of torment. “Daphne.”

She leapt against him, crying out in pleasure as his arms closed around her. She couldn’t
get close enough, and as if he couldn’t, either, he shoved her skirts up to her hips
and brought her legs, bent at the knees, around his waist. With one hand at the center
of her buttocks, and the other splayed wide at her back, he seized her against him,
and thrust his hips upward and off the seat so fiercely, his cheek turned against
her breasts, that she felt the sudden invasion of his arousal into the swollen place
between her legs. She moaned, as the most wonderful, but elusive, sensation fluttered
through her legs, and up her spine.
There
, everything went hot and damp and needful. Instinctively she tilted her hips, wanting
more. As if in answer, he moved, the heels of his boots sliding heavily against the
floor of the carriage, replicating the same sensation as before, only this time deeper
and more satisfying.

“Daphne,” he repeated raggedly, still clenching her against him as if they were in
a raging flood and she, at any moment, might be torn from his grasp. And yet she sensed
the tremble in his arms, and the control that held him rigidly taut.

“You’re hesitating,” she murmured, bending…twisting…to kiss his lips. “Don’t. I won’t
change my mind.”

The carriage lurched to a halt, but started again, rocking them against one another,
but he held her so tight she did not fear toppling to the floor.

“You foolish girl.” He exhaled, and for a moment he did not move, but then his face
turned, so that his nose and mouth found the channel between her breasts, and he groaned
against her skin. “What man could refuse you?”

“I don’t care,” Daphne whispered. “I only want you.”

He cursed. “I have, from the first moment, and every moment on, wanted you.”

Strong hands pressed up her back, their fingertips firm against her skin, one moving
higher to twist in her hair. Slowly…gently, he pulled, tilting her head back, exposing
her neck and the upper swells of her breasts to his mouth. Daphne closed her eyes,
abandoning herself to a thousand unfamiliar sensations, all pleasurable, and waiting
in a half-delirious state for whatever would come next.

At first his lips only teased the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck, while the
fingertips of his other hand tested the tops of her breasts. But with a sudden jerk
to her bodice and her stays beneath, her breasts sprang free into the cool night air,
and with a guttural sound, his mouth closed on her nipple.

“Cormack!” she cried, squeezing her thighs and pressing against him, a movement that
caused the satin thread of pleasure that ran along the center of her body to pull
exquisitely tight and dangerously close to breaking.

He hissed. “You can’t know what that does to me.”

Voices shouted outside the carriage, but faded quickly with the clatter of horses’
hooves. The knowledge that others passed so close by, without knowing the goings-on
inside Cormack’s carriage, only heightened Daphne’s excitement in the moment.

“Then show me,” she dared to whisper.

His white collar framed his tanned throat, just below his handsome face. He gripped
her arms just below the shoulders and she allowed him complete control, looking down
into the shadows between them to watch as his tongue laved her sensitive peak, his
tongue making circles until at last he sucked the rigid tip, grunting hoarsely before
paying the same courtesy to the other. She writhed, but he held her in place, while
her hips instinctively moved against the growing ridge in his trousers, bringing her
a more profound satisfaction.

“
Minx
,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

Reality fell way, leaving only a frenzy of touch and sensation. His mouth on hers.
The feel of his skin and hair beneath her fingertips. And pleasure. One kiss wasn’t
enough. She could barely inhale for breath before demanding another.

Her passion flamed higher with each slant of his lips, each touch of his hand, until
with a sudden movement, he twisted, and she found herself on her back staring up at
the painted ceiling of the coach and Cormack’s face, him sprawled above her. Gray
eyes flashed into hers before moving hungrily over breasts still bared for his view.
“You are a fantasy come to life.”

Daphne could not remember a time when she had ever felt more beautiful. Propped on
one elbow, he raked her skirts up her thighs.

Cool night air bathed her bare skin and her passion-drenched flesh. Staring down at
her, his eyes went to blazes, and his cheeks went ruddy.

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently.

“
You
are beautiful,” she replied.

He groaned, spreading over her, kissing her, pressing his hands along the length of
her bare thighs.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and turned it as if listening. Twisting to sit, he seized
her up from the bench.

“We’re just going to stop?” she asked, bewildered and dazed. “Just like that?”

He tugged up her corset and straightened her skirts.

“Yes, just like that, unless you want an audience. Jackson knocked, didn’t you hear?”

No, she hadn’t. Only then did she realize the carriage had completely stopped, and
that she no longer heard the sounds of horses and other carriages on the road around
them.

Oh no. Her hair was everywhere. She set about doing her best to straighten its pins.
Her mother or even George the groom might very well be standing right outside the
door.

Tilting the bench cushion, Cormack produced a folded wool blanket, which he hastily
shook out.

“Put this around your shoulders and try not to look as if you’ve been ravished.” His
lips set forth a strained laugh.

Only then did he hurl himself onto the opposite bench, and let out an uneasy breath.

A rap came upon the door, a second before it swung open.

To Cormack’s surprise, he looked out at his own terrace house. “Jackson, why are we
stopped here when I specified Wolverton’s residence?”

He had actually hoped they would be returned to the earl’s residence, so that Daphne
would be forced to sleep another night on her decision.

“One of the horses has gone lame. We simply couldn’t push him any further.”

Cormack moved to the front of the carriage to inspect the injured animal, and gave
instructions to the driver.

“The earl’s residence is just two streets over. I will walk Miss Bevington home.”

“I’d take the footpath, sir, so as not to risk being trampled by some drunken driver.”

Just over his shoulder, the street remained jammed with carriages, a common sight
when the season was in full swing, but even more so tonight with the flux of revelers
simultaneously returning from Vauxhall.

“Thank you, Jackson.” Daphne emerged from the interior, Cormack’s carriage blanket
arranged like an elegant hood over her hair and body. Nothing about her demeanor suggested
the scandalous activities in which they’d indulged just moments before.

Once she stood beside him, the carriage departed in the direction of the mews, minus
one horse from its harnesses, while Jackson followed, gently leading the lame animal
in the same direction.

“Very nice,” Daphne said, gazing at the front of the house.

“Would you like to…see the inside?” He stared at her, knowing she saw the fire in
his eyes.

“I would.” A flush rose into her cheeks.

“Then we had best make haste, before anyone sees.”

Together they rushed down the walkway and up the stairs. With a turn of the key in
the lock, he pushed the door open. A vestibule cloaked in shadows welcomed them, as
well as two mastiffs who excitedly circled them, panting and growling happy greetings
low in their throats.

“Their names?” She rubbed their heads, which elicited their immediate adoration.

“Hugin and Munin.”

“They are very handsome, and I like them very much. But no butler, or footman?” She
moved through the cavernous entrance hall.

“It’s just me here, and I require very little attention. I told them not to wait up.”

“Where are your chambers?” Daphne inquired in a hushed voice, already ascending the
marble stairway.

Anticipation quickened his breath. “Why don’t you find them? I will follow.”

He quickly guided the dogs by their collars into a side room and closed the door,
leaving them to whine from the other side.

She released the blanket from her shoulders, discarding it to the stairs, and half-turned
to smile at him. Moonlight bathed her gown, defining every rise and swell of her body
for his hungry gaze. He followed her the rest of the way up, admiring the gentle sway
of her hips as she climbed.

When he reached the landing, she was already halfway down the corridor. He followed
slowly, watching as she pushed open a door.

“Are these rooms your chambers?” she asked, her voice a soft, velvet tease. “No, I
think not. The furnishings aren’t fine enough for an earl.” She proceeded to the next.
“What about…this one? No again. I can’t see you sleeping in a room done up in lilac
and pink.”

He overtook her suddenly, unable to contain his passion a moment more. He caught her
from behind, pressing her to the wall, his mouth against her neck. Her back arched
in ecstasy and her hands spread wide against the scarlet wallpaper as his hands descended
the length of her body, caressing her breasts until she moaned, then moving lower,
across her belly.