Passion Over Time (10 page)

For the first time, she had a true notion of what it meant to be taken. To be possessed.

This was what it meant to have a
lover
.

All the other times, all the other men had been something a little less.

She’d craved this and not known it. Had been dying inside for want of this and not realized it.

He wrapped her hair around his hand twice, held her head up and kissed her with such ardor it felt like he was sucking her breath away.

“I don’t think I can get enough of you.” His voice was charged with passion and somehow, she’d no idea where, it wrung an instant heated response from her. She wanted more of him, needed more him as if she’d never had him.

She ached inside so badly. Ached to be closer to him, as close as possible. To be totally possessed by him. To have some part of him that would become part of her and could never, ever be taken from her.

“Come inside me this time.” The words sprung from deep inside her, shocking her. Making her heart pound with mouth-drying excitement.

But, dear God, yes, she’d never needed anything more.

“Are you sure, darling?” He caressed the hair off her forehead. He took her hand, kissed it, then pressed it to his cheek. His eyes shone like silver stars.

“I am.” She panted with desire. “Just this once. Mark me, claim me. Inside.”

His face sharpened and he withdrew.

The loss of his hardness, his heat, made her gasp.

“Roll over,” he said, huskily.

Dizzy with anticipation, she rolled over, pulled herself up on her knees. He slapped her buttock once, again harder, and the sound cracked in the chamber. Then he thrust inside her and she arched backwards to take him in, pushing against him until his cock touched the mouth of her womb. He groaned. Her hair brushed her back as he swept it aside. His hand encircled her throat, his breath tickled her nape.

“Beth, oh Beth—I am going to fill you full of myself.” He nipped lightly at her neck. “I’ve come inside no other woman in eighteen years.”

The possessive timbre of his voice made her catch her breath.

He gave a harsh shout and his whole body shook against hers. His cock jerked within her. And he had not withdrawn. He was filling her full of himself, claiming her. Just as he had promised. Her internal muscles clamped down and she bent her head all the way down, stuffed her face into the pillow and screamed.

Her legs collapsed a moment before he fell against her back. Cold air hit her neck as he lifted her damp hair away. His lips touched her neck.

“Damn, Beth, damn.” He lightly nipped her flesh. “Oh, damn.”

* * * *

At the washstand mirror, Beth ran a final smoothing hand over the coiled braid at the back of her neck. Raw soreness throbbed between her legs, an oddly satisfying reminder of the evening. Her body was limp. Weak.

She felt weaker yet with shock at her own actions. Despite her attempts to clean up, warm, viscous wetness still seeped from her channel. A decidedly sensual, and again, satisfying sensation.

Dear heavens! She’d never before allowed a man to come inside of her. She had always demanded they pull out. She’d certainly never
begged
a man to do otherwise. But in her heart, she couldn’t be sorry. She was his. In the most basic way.

But all right, this had been the last time. And her courses were due to come within the next day or two. Chances were on her side that she wouldn’t conceive his child.

Her throat began to ache. The sensation spread down into her chest. Painful tightness. Crushing regret. Loss.

Dear God. A little wave of nausea swept through her at the realization that she actually felt
sad
that she wouldn’t bear some wealthy New York merchant’s bastard. What had she sunk to? Her desire for Grey was making her lose control over her wits.

The clock on the mantle chimed eight in the evening.

At the reminder of the time, she startled.

“I’ll send for my carriage,” Grey said, as if the matter required no consent from her.

She turned to where he lounged on the bed, his head propped against the headboard.

“Thank you but I can’t be seen coming home in a carriage.” She pulled on a glove.

“Couldn’t Mrs. Bickle have sent you home in one?”

“She never did.”

“Well, let’s say she did today.”

“I told you, I cannot be seen leaving a carriage. Too many watchful eyes, waiting for someone to make a misstep.” She tugged the other glove on.

“You are a beautiful girl. You can’t walk home at dusk.”

“I am twenty-three, hardly a girl, and I have always walked where I wanted to go.”

“Well, you’ve never been under my protection before.”

“I am not—” Anger at his arrogant presumption bristled through her and forced her to take a deep breath. “I am not under your protection.”

His eyes darkened to the color of gunmetal and he jerked upright. “When you’re with me, you damn well are.”

With a frisson of alarm in her belly, she took several steps backwards. “Understand me, sir, we are lovers and only when and for how long I choose. You have no rights of protection over me.”

“We made commitments today, Beth.” His tone was severe.

“Commitments? When?”

“You know when.”

“I committed nothing to you.”

“You let me spill my seed inside you. If that wasn’t a commitment to trust me, to put yourself into my care, then what was it?”

“
That
was a moment of insanity, sir.”

His dark brows drew together.

She sensed a change between them, something dark and dangerous. Under the surface.

Her mouth went dry. She flicked her gaze toward the door and noted how distant it suddenly seemed. She swallowed and returned her attention to him. His expression was hard.

Her heart’s beat quickened. She began inching toward the door, somehow afraid to move too quickly.

“Beth, I am going to walk you downstairs and see you put into a carriage.”

His tone made her freeze. She inhaled deeply and tried to keep her voice even. “I won’t take a carriage.”

“You will if I bodily carry you and put you inside.” He came to his feet.

Heart leaping wildly into her throat now, she backed away. She affected a careless laugh. “You can’t be serious. You don’t have your breeches on.”

He glanced down at his dark blue banyan, as if he’d forgotten he were not dressed. His jaw tightened. A quiver of fear exploded within her belly and she ran for the sideboard. As she grasped her reticule, his arm latched around her waist like a band of steel.

She twisted in his arms to glare at him. “Let me go, you autocratic jackass,” she hissed.

“Just because your brother doesn’t care about you—”

The words cut into her like shards of ice. “He
cares.
”

“He lets you traipse around like a girl on the town meeting with men—”

“We’re not wealthy. We don’t take carriages. I have to go out and work. He’s a gentle, quiet man, except when he’s angry. Believe me, if he knew I was seeing a man, he would be outraged. That’s why I have to be so careful.”

“And you’re very good at being careful, aren’t you? Like a cunning little cat. You’ve so much experience.”

“You’ve certainly enjoyed the benefit.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “We’re getting deep here, Beth. I want our liaison to be defined.”

“We’ve met three times and neither of us has any claim on the other.”

“By God, you’re in serious want of taming.” His hands tightened on her, his eyes darkened and dangerous. “Are you so unaware of how the world is? What perils you flirt with in your reckless behavior? I could detain you. I could take you to my yacht and take you with me to New York. I daresay a week at sea would prove ample time to tame a vixen.”

He meant it. She could tell by the expression in his eyes. Sick fear beat through her.

Oh God, she’d worried about being caught by some act of her own carelessness. But she had never considered that a gentleman might take matters into his own hands. That he might abduct her for his long-term pleasure. Encircled by his powerful arms, she held no doubts this gentleman could make good on his threats.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze steadily. “If you do this—I promise you I’ll get free the first moment your back is turned—and I’ll never,
ever
come back.”

His eyes widened and his grasp loosened. Clutching her reticule, she dashed for the door.

“Beth!”

The anguish in his voice made her stop, her hand frozen on the doorknob.

“I wouldn’t really,” he said.

“You said it.” She would not turn around.

“I lost my head, forgive me.”

At his contrite tone, a hot metallic dryness filled her mouth. Fear of herself. Fear she would turn, and run into his arms. Her hand shook upon the knob. She turned it, wrenched the door open, and fled down the hall and into the night.

Chapter Six

Seated in the shallow metal tub, knees folded almost to her chest, Beth cradled her face in her hands. The warm water had felt marvelous but it was already cooling. She missed the large, fine porcelain tub she’d bathed in at Mrs. Hazelwood’s house. She missed absolute privacy and being able to bathe naked. Now she must wear her shift in the tub.

“Elizabeth!”

At Charlie’s booming voice, she sighed. Oh, bother! She lifted her head, focusing hazily on the stew pot that was boiling on the cook stove. “What?” she called out.

“Almost done in there?”

“It has only been ten minutes at the most.”

“Well, I don’t know why you have to have a tub bath. It doesn’t get a body any cleaner than the washstand.”

Tears boiled up within her and spilled out. “I just want a few moments to myself, just a few moments.”

“Elizabeth, damn it, I am hungry! I worked hard today.”

“You’ll get your supper.”

“When?”

“In a little while! Go away!”

“So, this is the kind of respect a man gets in his own house? Very well, milady!”

She listened to his footfalls recede into the workshop.

“
Come inside me this time.”

Her own voice haunted her. She buried her face in her hands again.

“
Beth, oh Beth—I am going to fill you full of myself.”

Once again, she could feel the jerking of his cock deep, deep within her, the hot surge of his seed against her inner walls. The feel of it leaking out of her, warm and silken upon her thighs.

How vigorously he had taken her. He was a man in his utmost prime, his seed would be virile.

Exceedingly so.

Fear quaked through her, the same queasy fear that had been with her since the day before, when she had allowed Sexton the ultimate intimacy.

Dear God. What madness had possessed her?

“Auntie Elizabeth?” The soft piping voice broke into her thoughts. She let her hands fall away from her face and focused slowly on the angelic little face before her.

“What, my darling?”

Amy lifted her rag doll. “Her arm fell off.”

Beth reached out and touched her niece’s hair. “Don’t worry. I can sew her back up, right after supper.”

“But without her arm, she won’t be able to eat any supper.”

Beth caressed the soft ringlets. “You shall have to feed her then.”

“Beef stew is her favorite.”

“Is it?” Beth asked absently.

Amy nodded. “Her very most favorite of all.”

Craving tore through Beth without mercy. Longing to hold her own child in her arms. She was almost twenty-four years old. All the women she knew of her own age had long since married and had several children tugging at their aprons. Their beds were warmed each night by a husband. They had their own homes and ran them as they saw fit.

Beth would never have a husband.

She would likely never have her own home.

She let her hand slide down to caress the rosy little cheek.

Sexton was willing to give her a child.

He said she must trust him. That he would provide handsomely for such a child. She’d heard of a Sexton son when people had been talking about Grey at the bookseller’s, but no particulars as to the boy’s age.

“
I’ve come in no other woman in eighteen years.”

So, he had no young children.

Her child would be special.

Was she being too slavish to the opinions of others?

Could she have…everything she wanted, sans a wedding ring?

Temptation beat through her.

Sharp blue eyes, pale brows drawn tightly together in disapproval, flashed into her mind. If she disgraced herself, Mrs. Hazelwood would forever despise her.

She stared into the innocent face of her niece. How could she ever entertain, even for a moment, providing such a horrid example to this precious child?

She pulled her hand back to her lips.

Oh God, how could she ever, ever
think
of doing such a thing?

“My darling.” She pointed at the chair near by. “Fetch me that towel. We will go and get your dolly patched up right away. Supper will have to wait.”

* * * *

On Monday, aboard the
Fleur
, Grey suffered Marie’s close, worried inspection.

“You have lost weight and you look tired—
non
, more desolate than tired,” she said.

Inwardly, her perception galled him. Saturday, Beth had not met with him, nor sent any message. And he’d eaten little and slept even less since. For that matter, poor appetite and insomnia had troubled him since he’d met her and it did feel like illness, but it was a weakness he’d no wish to discuss.

“Being in love will do that.” Her dark blue eyes glittered with mischievous humor.

He laughed cynically. “You know me better than that, Marie.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you don’t even know yourself.” She laughed softly. “Don’t scowl at me like that,
mon chou
, you cannot change truth by scowling it away.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured around at the tiny, albeit neat and clean cabin. “Is this cabin up to your expectations?”

What a question to ask. Of course it wasn’t up to her expectations.

Making a moue with her full-red mouth, she replied, “
Oui
.”

She wanted to return to her family and with war looming they both agreed the sooner she left, the better. This was the only ship leaving for New Orleans in the foreseeable future. All of her household items had been boarded days ago and she’d been staying at the Indian Queen Inn.

Her glossy auburn curls bounced as she plopped her broad, round arse down on the bunk and patted the mattress. “At least this is soft.”

God, but this was awkward. What did one say at such a moment? She had been with him through some of the worst times in his life. The
Fleur
would set sail this evening. He’d likely never see her again.

“Marie, if you ever need—”

“My cousin has property north of Baton Rogue. We shall do very well, especially considering the generous
congé
you have given me.” A smile curved her lips. “And what about you? Are you going to marry this girl who has swept you along by your feet?”

He’d said nothing to Marie about Beth, but of course she’d known there was someone. She had that woman’s innate ability to discern a man’s reactions. No use in denying it now.

“She would not fit into my life,” he replied, more tersely than he had intended.

“You are too used to your own way.” Amusement warmed Marie’s rich voice. “She can do you some good.”

“I can’t imagine doing anything more callous than to wed her. She couldn’t conform to society life and my wife would need to be a pattern card of propriety and breeding to overcome the prejudice to which she’d be subjected.”

“You carry too much bitterness. You overestimate people’s memories and underestimate their ability to forgive.”

“I’ve done nothing that needs forgiving.” It took effort to keep his tone civil. Why must she fill their parting moments with this sort of prying? It wasn’t like her.

She shook her head, her expression sad. “I think most of all, you need forgiveness from yourself.”

Hours later, her words still echoed in his thoughts. The second-guessing, the self-doubt returned, taking him back eighteen years. But he’d done what he could, hadn’t he? And when all his efforts failed, he’d bowed out and given Juliana everything she wanted. Including his own ruin. Maybe he should have fought de Lange harder but Grey had been too naïve to understand what the game really was.

Nausea rose in his throat and he choked it back. With effort he took the whole matter and thrust it out of his mind. He had more a pressing problem and her name was Beth. He would find her if he had to visit every cobbler’s shop on the northeast side.

* * * *

Beth came out of the back room, transfixed by the wavy patterns swirling in the creamed coffee she was bringing to Charlie. She’d spent the past week sleepy and distracted.

“Mr. Sexton, my sister, Miss Elizabeth McConnell,” Charlie said.

Her heart jumping into her throat, she jerked her gaze up.

Sure enough, there he stood. Her breath caught and she set the mug on the counter with a heavy crash. Dressed in a plain brown broadcloth jacket and nankeen pantaloons, he could have been any tradesman from hereabout. Yet his height and arrogant bearing set him apart.

Those silver eyes focused on her, and the momentary heat there reminded her of being abed with him. After a week spent aching in her own bed and staying away from City Tavern, tingling warmth suffused her belly. Her eyes traced the familiar contour of his angular jaw. She remembered their last meeting. When he had made her come over and over, and how she had pressed a frantic rain of kisses upon that jaw. Remembered the taste of his sweat, the scent of their mutual arousal. Now wetness began to flow between her legs.

Her eyes flickered to her brother’s bland, pumpkin-shaped face and she prayed he could not read the ardent hunger on her own.

Grey was insane to have come here.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss McConnell.” Grey’s tone was cool and polite. A distant half-smile curved his mouth.

“Entertain Mr. Sexton a moment, will you? I need to see how much cordovan leather we have in back.”

She watched Charlie’s massive back as he departed, then she turned on Grey. “How did you find me?”

“There are only so many cobbler’s shops in Philadelphia. And certainly only one woman so pale blonde—”

Outrage stunned her. Panic slammed into her. “You were asking about me?”

“Don’t worry. I am the soul of discretion.”

“Ha, more like the soul of arrogance.” She glanced at the backroom door, searching for Charlie’s huge shadow, then turned back to Grey. “And it’s done you no good. I am determined to meet you no more.”

He looked tired, as if he’d spent as many sleepless nights as she. A warm wave of tenderness suffused her. She wanted to cradle his head to her naked breasts and caress his black hair until he slept and never let him go.

When her courses had come, she ought to have felt relief. But she had been sad, oh so sad. A little of that sorrow remained and it made her heart too tender. It made her want to believe anything he promised.

But she knew all about gentlemen. They viewed a woman of her sort as just another bauble to possess and then discard once they grew bored. This gentleman had recently proven himself no different, as that letter from
M
proved. Beth was merely his latest acquisition. He probably replaced his mistresses once yearly. Or more.

No sane woman ever trusted a gentleman.

But her body refused to listen to reason. Her sex swelled and wept with need. How many nights had she hugged her pillow tightly with her thighs, trying to assuage the ache for him?

How long would it take her body to forget him? She didn’t look forward to finding out.

“You have to forgive me, Beth.”

She folded her arms over her bodice and arched a brow. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do.” He grinned. More than a grin, it was a bone-melting flash of the boy inside the man. The motherless boy who had grown up with the stern, cold father. Fleeting as a heartbeat, it spoke to her of babies and booties and long winter nights spent snuggled up to a strong, male body in bed. Things she never let herself she could have.

To break the spell, she shook herself and took a deep, fortifying breath. “I thought you were leaving soon for New York.”

“I can’t leave Philadelphia yet.”

“Why not?”

“You
know
why.” His voice, sensual and low, invoked memories of his tall, strong body upon hers and their sweat-slick skin sliding in crisp linen sheets. “Meet with me one more time.”

Her channel contracted hard. The temptation to say yes was almost too much to bear.

She couldn’t possibly say yes.

But where would she find the strength to say no?

“I shouldn’t.” She heard the wavering in her own voice. It made her mouth go dry. Oh, God help her.

“Come see me Saturday.”

She trembled at the erotic promise in his eyes. Why did he have to be so blasted persuasive? At the sound of Charlie’s boots on the floorboards, she retreated from the counter, unsure if she were grateful for the distraction or if she suddenly wished Charlie to the devil.

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby,” Grey whispered.

* * * *

At the sound of boots on the floorboards, Beth looked up from the shoe she was stitching.