Nicole Jordan (42 page)

“Then you are leaving tomorrow evening?”

Thorne heard the dismay in her voice and felt his heart warm. “That’s the soonest my crew can be assembled. I only hope I reach Cyrene before Forrester does. Sir Gawain has been like a father to me—more so than my own illustrious sire, in fact. I could never forgive myself if I allowed his murder.”

“Of course not,” Diana murmured. Her gaze turned even more troubled as another thought apparently occurred to her. “I suppose Venus sailed with her brother? That is why she hasn’t been seen for days?”

“That’s my best guess, yes. Like Thomas, she blames the Guardians for killing her parents. You remember how bitter she was even after all these years. She may be just as guilty as her brother. In fact, it’s probable they were working together to lure Nathaniel to his death.”

“But she didn’t want you to be killed, her bruisers said so.”

“Perhaps she bears a fondness for me—or more likely, for you. But I doubt her affection extends to Sir Gawain.”

To his surprise, Diana rose slowly and moved to stand before him, looking down at him with dark intensity. “I want to go with you, Thorne.”

His eyebrow shot up. “To Cyrene?”

“Yes. I am involved in this, whether you like it or not. Nathaniel was my cousin, and Venus my friend. And you are—” She broke off, pressing her lips together.

“I am what?” he prodded, wondering if her unfinished sentence was,
You are my lover.

Diana shrugged. “I just don’t like to think of you facing a murderer alone.”

“I will hardly be alone. Yates will be with me, and so will my crew. And I have always been able to take care of myself.”

“Even so, I would go mad waiting here, not knowing what might be befalling you.”

Setting down his brandy, Thorne got to his feet and studied Diana’s expression. She was worried for him—that much was clear—and wanted to protect him. “What about your art? You’re just now starting to make a name for yourself. And you’re to begin classes at the Academy next week, not to mention that you’ll disappoint all your new patrons. If you leave now, your career is bound to suffer.”

“I expect so, but this is far more important. I can try to resurrect my career when I return.”

For a moment Thorne stood there debating. He didn’t want Diana exposed to any more danger, certainly. But merely letting her sail with him was no grave risk. Once they reached the island, he would make certain she remained safe and out of harm’s way.

And the prospect of being without her for at least a month while he traveled to Cyrene and back was damned unappealing. He also didn’t like the thought of her remaining here and facing the ton’s wolves alone. Moreover, he couldn’t be certain that she would be willing to honor their betrothal by the time he returned.

A more seductive thought occurred to him: he could use the time together to convince Diana to wed him for real. Two weeks together onboard a ship would give him the chance to put his most persuasive talents to the test.

In fact, he could begin right now, Thorne realized. Just now he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips and claim her body and reassure himself that she was still his.

He reached up and touched her cheek. “Very well, you may come with me on one condition.”

“What condition?”

“That you stay here with me tonight.”

Her gaze sharpened, and she looked as if she might refuse. But Thorne slipped his hand behind her nape, determined not to take no for an answer.

“I intend to make love to you tonight, Diana. I haven’t seen you in days, and I’ve been burning for you the entire time.”

“Thorne—” she began, before he cut her off with a brief, feather-soft kiss.

The fire that leapt between them told him more than words how much she wanted him.

Raising his head, Thorne surveyed the indecision on her beautiful face. “Can you honestly say you don’t want to stay with me tonight?”

“No, I can’t say that,” she whispered, raising her lips to his with a sigh of reluctant surrender.

Twenty

H
e took
her hand and led her upstairs to his darkened bedchamber. The moment Thorne shut the door behind him, Diana was in his arms, as eager as he.

The intensity of her passion didn’t surprise him. Physical danger was an aphrodisiac, and the emotional turmoil of their discoveries this afternoon had sparked a harsh reminder of just how precious life was. Moreover, the time they’d spent apart had only heightened their need for each other.

Just as passionately, Thorne captured Diana’s mouth in a fierce kiss. His thrusting tongue met hers hungrily, but he knew he wouldn’t stop until he was plunging deep and tight inside her body. His own body flared with raw desire. He wanted Diana so intensely, the pain was a raw ache inside him.

Forcibly he tried to slow his ravenous hunger as he drew back in order to undress her. They removed each other’s clothing impatiently and then came together again on the high bed.

“I need to feel you,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching his hands up to cup her bare breasts.

The ripe flesh overflowed in his palms as he dipped his head to suckle one taut nipple. Diana responded with a sharp moan, writhing against him with an urgency that couldn’t be denied.

“Have you missed this as much as I have?” Thorne muttered, already knowing the answer even before she drew him back up to her for another feverish kiss.

It was the only invitation Thorne required. An agony of longing swept over him. He wanted to drive himself into her until they were both mindless with intolerable pleasure. Wanted to impale her till he drowned in her.

Shifting his weight to cover her, he eased between her spread thighs. Then he sank in hard, filling her to the brink. With a sob, Diana arched her back to draw him in even more completely, her hips moving in a rhythm that was ancient and mindless.

A score of frantic heartbeats later, their world crumbled apart in flaming pieces. As Diana cried out beneath him, Thorne convulsed around her, claiming and conquering and worshiping her all at once.

Afterward he lay heavy and spent upon her, gasping for breath.

When finally the flames cooled, Thorne wearily rolled away, taking Diana with him so that she curled against him. Not knowing whether to curse or laugh, he stared unseeing at the dark canopy overhead, bewildered by his inexplicable loss of control.

He’d been as much at the mercy of his body as Diana had been of hers. More so, probably. He’d deliberately given no thought to sponges or anything else in his desperate need to have her. Or perhaps he’d simply wanted to bind her to him any way he could.

Thorne squeezed his eyes shut. What the devil happened to him every time he took her? What made him feel this fierce want, this intense craving to bury himself so deeply inside her that he could never pull free?

Only with her had he ever experienced this fervent, overwhelming desire, so rich, so potent that it took control of his senses, his body…his heart.

Sweet hell—was that what ailed him? Had he become smitten with Diana?

The possibility dismayed Thorne, in part because it was so damned unexpected.

How had he allowed her to slip past all his defenses? He thought of his past lovers, their seductive charms, the endless ways they’d tried to please him, but not one of them had ever succeeded in arousing such a stark hunger in him without even trying, the way Diana did. Not one of them had ever made him feel this ravenous and obsessed.

His fingers clenched involuntarily around a silken tress of her hair as he contemplated the hitherto inconceivable mortality of his bachelorhood.

Was it possible that he had met his match in Diana?

She was remarkable, certainly; he’d known that from the very first. He could think of few other women who would have confronted Venus’s brute of a henchman at gunpoint. Fewer still who would have insisted on accompanying him to follow the trail of a killer and try to prevent another possible murder.

And none that he truly wanted for his bride, the way he wanted Diana.

Whenever his father had pressed marriage on him, he’d always claimed he was waiting for the right woman. Someone worthy of being a Guardian’s mate. Someone who would face danger at his side.

Diana was that kind of woman.

Even so, he’d never thought anyone could make him actually
want
to give up his freedom. In all the years of eluding the marriage traps set for him, he’d never been the least susceptible to love.

But tonight had shown him his own frightening vulnerability to her. He’d wanted to claim her, to make her his own, to lose himself in her, fully, without reservations, and to keep her with him always.

Thorne swore again silently, stunned by the realization. The damnable truth was, he’d become possessed by a woman who might never be able to love him in return. Diana had been so hurt and betrayed by her first love years ago that she’d vowed never to surrender to any other man.

Even without that impediment, Thorne acknowledged grimly, he had to question his ability to win her. What had he ever done to make Diana want to give him her heart? She thought him a rake, a reckless rebel, interested only in his own pleasure.

But what would it take to earn her respect, to prove himself worthy of her love? And what if he couldn’t manage it?

A feeling oddly like panic swept over Thorne.

Ruthlessly stifling it, he tilted Diana’s face up to his and bent his head, seeking her lips. He refused to consider defeat.

For now he would concentrate on deliberately rousing her hunger, trying to make Diana as savagely obsessed as he himself was.

The following day was a whirlwind for Diana, yet she was grateful for the activity, since it kept her from dwelling on her decision to accompany Thorne to Cyrene.

Doubtless it was mad to risk being in such close proximity to him for so long when her heart was so vulnerable. But the deplorable truth was, she couldn’t bear to give him up just yet.

If he were to sail without her, she would find it impossible to endure the uncertainty of waiting, never knowing what danger he might be in or when he might return, worrying that he would do something wild and reckless if she was not beside him. An absurd notion, perhaps, but she felt the vague conviction that if she was with him, she could somehow watch over him.

She had other strong reasons for going, as well. She earnestly wanted justice for her cousin Nathaniel. And she wanted to do everything in her power to prevent Sir Gawain from being harmed or even killed. Although Thorne hadn’t been able to tell her much about the Guardians, the idea of a secret society of protectors championing a noble cause had caught fire in her imagination. It also explained a great deal about Nathaniel’s death and strangely made his loss easier to bear, knowing he’d been performing a laudable duty for his country.

Her new discovery increased her admiration for Thorne, as well, but despite the risks to her heart, Diana had no intention of changing her mind.

She distracted herself by keeping busy the entire day—canceling her sittings for the next month and composing an apology to Sir George Enderly of the British Academy, pleading urgent business that required her absence from town. Next, she arranged for her servants to care for her house and paintings, and packed her trunks with clothing and art supplies for the voyage.

When that was completed, she called on Amy, needing to say farewell in person.

Amy was out shopping when Diana arrived, however, so she took her leave of Lady Hennessy, explaining that she was returning to Cyrene with Thorne and John Yates to settle a lingering problem with her late cousin Nathaniel’s affairs.

After an hour of restless waiting, Diana finally penned a note for Amy, keenly regretting that she’d missed seeing her cousin. Then Diana hurried home to change. They would board Thorne’s schooner before sunset, since the tide was expected to go out shortly afterward, and she couldn’t chance being late.

In her absence, Thorne had sent a dray to take her trunks to the ship. Diana was ready and waiting by six o’clock when he arrived in his town coach to escort her to the London docks.

His expression was grim, Diana saw at once, but she waited until Thorne had handed her inside and the carriage moved off before asking if he’d had any success learning more about Thomas Forrester’s intentions.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Thorne replied. “Yates was able to confirm that Forrester hired a brigantine and crew and set sail last Thursday night, bound for the Mediterranean. I suspect it was no small feat for Forrester to find a seaworthy vessel, considering how many ships our government has employed for transporting troops to Europe.”

Diana nodded somberly in comprehension. In the past month, she’d read numerous accounts in the papers regarding the latest developments in Napoleon Bonaparte’s return to power. When the Corsican Monster had mustered another vast army with the aim of conquering Belgium, the Allies had joined forces in hopes of crushing him again, sending troops and munitions to Europe under the commands of General Lord Wellington and Prussia’s Marshal Blucher. Thorne was convinced there would be a war soon, one that could likely be as bloody as any battles that had gone before.