Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B) (12 page)

“Shh,” Hortense warned them.

Standing behind them near the curtain of their box, James stirred and crossed his arms, as if impatient and ready to leave. He’d fetched the Thayer girls before he’d come for her,
obviously not wishing to be alone with her. The twins were enjoying the attention of being squired about town by the elusive James Hunter, and Gina had kept the real reason to herself. It was much more flattering to think he craved their company than that he wanted to keep Gina out of trouble.

Ironically, the gravest danger to Gina was James himself. Her virtue would be forfeit with very little fuss if he but crooked his finger. Heat washed through her as she recalled the way she’d pleaded with him not to stop in the coach last night. And, just for a moment, she had thought that if she made love to James, it would wash away whatever Mr. Henley had done to her. As the moment had drawn out, she realized she’d been foolish to expose herself, her deepest fears, to him. And her only excuse was that, if he had made love to her, at least she would know, for better or worse, if she’d been defiled.

She’d do anything—
anything
—for the answer to that question. She’d ask questions, put herself in danger, pose as a lightskirt in a Whitechapel gin house, and more. And she suspected that the key to the answers to all her questions dangled at the end of her corset strings—if only she could find what it opened.

The music rose to a crescendo and Gina blinked. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she had missed the entire first act of the play. If pressed, she would not have been able to say what it was about. She clapped with the audience as the lights came up, guttering as the wicks were raised.

Charlie pushed the curtain aside and entered their box. “I say, did you notice that all eyes were upon this particular box? The excess of beauty here has charmed the audience. I would not be surprised if the actors ask you to leave so they may get their fair share of attention.”

Hortense laughed and waved her fan furiously. Harriett
and Gina merely smiled at his ridiculous flattery while James lifted an eyebrow in amusement.

“What accounts for your interest in the theatre this evening, Charlie?” he asked.

Charlie grinned and shot a glance at the ladies.

Gina wondered what James had told him about her presence in the Cat’s Paw last night. The truth, no doubt, but how much of it?

“Oranges!” came a cry from below.

She looked down and saw a girl with a basket of fruit, holding one perfect orange aloft for all to see.

“Mary!” Charlie tossed the girl a sixpence and laughed when she snatched it out of the air.

“She did not throw you the orange, Mr. Hunter,” Harriett said.

He turned to them and explained. “Mary supports her mother and crippled brother. I always throw her a coin but never take the orange.”

Harriett glanced at the pretty girl again, and back at Charlie. “That is very kind of you, Mr. Hunter. Not many are as charitable.”

Charles looked embarrassed and shrugged. “‘Tis little enough—a shilling here, a sixpence there.”

Gina looked back at the girl in time to see her blow Charles a kiss. The incident spoke well for a man whose modesty prevented him from speaking well of himself. Mary turned away and began crying her goods again.

As Gina watched the girl weave a path through the audience, she noted a man approach her and say something in her ear. Mary appeared to shrink in size and began walking with the man toward the stage. Before they disappeared behind the curtain, he turned and looked directly at their box. Mr. Henley!

James had seen him, too. “Charlie, will you see the ladies home, please. I have sudden business to attend.”

‘E’s one fer the ladies….
Ned’s words rang in Gina’s ears. Would Mr. Henley harm Mary in any way? Surely he would not dare with every charley and runner in London looking for him. The Brotherhood was disbanded. There were no more followers.

And yet her desperation for answers and the shortness of time overshadowed the lingering fear. So much so that she had once again dressed in the rough woolen dress and shawl, and had gone out to meet Ned. All she had now was the little key clutched in her hand and an idea nagging at the back of her mind.

Knowing, now, where she was and that she was not far from home, she’d dismissed Ned and stood in the shadows of a tree across the street from an abandoned estate on the outskirts of Mayfair. The gate stood open to an overgrown lawn and the house was partially obscured by trees that stirred in a chilling breeze. Behind the house, the spire of a small chapel rose above the trees—the place that had changed her life forever.

Gina shivered and drew her shawl closer. What secrets did this eerie estate hold? What had happened there that night, and all the nights before? Teasing dancing flicks of memory appeared and disappeared before her, leaving her with only vague impressions. Mr. Henley forcing bitter wine down her throat. Being carried somewhere and unable to fight. Hands plucking at her clothing. Then…then nothing.

The wind soughed through the trees, moaning like a lost child, and Gina sank deeper into the shadows, frozen in time—at that very moment in the catacombs beneath the chapel. Locked in an eternal cold. She wanted to feel again, to reclaim whatever remained of herself. And the only way
she could do that was to find out, to finally know, what had happened to her during those lost hours.

She fingered the little key stashed in the slash pocket of her dress. Would it open a door here? Which door? And what would she find? Answers? More questions? Peace?

She reached into her mind, almost as if she could grasp and pluck out the memories that escaped her. And again the elusive memories teased her as if they were near, then flitted away, afraid to expose themselves to her scrutiny.

Her back straightened as she screwed her courage up to the sticking-place and her hand fisted around the key. She would not shirk, no matter how frightened she was. She took one determined step forward, then another.

A hand clamped over her mouth and an arm slipped around her to drag her backward, once more into the darkness.

G
ina twisted and fought like a dervish, trying to loosen herself from the unforgiving hold and clawing at the hand over her mouth. Dear Lord! Not again.

“Are you mad?” a familiar voice whispered.

She went limp with relief.

“Dare I release you?”

She nodded and breathed deep as he eased his hold on her. He still held her to steady her and she turned in the circle of his arms. “You nearly scared me to death,” she whispered.

“No less a fright than you gave me,” James said, a sardonic smile twisting the corners of his mouth.

“How did you find me?”

His mouth was mere inches from hers. “Coincidence.”

“But—”

“It was a trap. Henley drew me away deliberately. He had cast Mary off by the time I got backstage. I gave chase, but he had already disappeared. He has set traps for me before, and I suspected he had done so again when a coach nearly ran me down. A clumsy attempt, to be sure, but one that put
me on my guard. ‘Twould appear half of London is looking to collect the bounty on my head. I will be lunging from runaway coaches, watching for falling objects and dodging bullets until this thing is over. All unnecessary since
you
will be the death of me.”

Gina sighed. Though she’d listened to him carefully, her mind was overwhelmed with other things—the clean, spicy scent of his cologne, the way a faint dimple appeared in one cheek when he grinned, the warmth of his arms around her. She found she could only nod her understanding.

“I had a report earlier tonight that someone had seen a light in one of the upper windows here, so I came to investigate. I found nothing. But that still doesn’t explain your presence here, Eugenia.”

“A light?” She looked over her shoulder at the eerie deserted house.

“You’re going nowhere but home, Miss O’Rourke.”

“Directly after we search the house.”

He looked astonished and angry at the same time. “I already have. You have sorely underestimated me. When I took you home after your ill-conceived foray into Whitechapel last night, I thought you would know enough to abandon such foolish tricks. If you do not, you leave me no recourse but to act as your missing conscience. I am taking you home, Eugenia, and we shall waken Drew and tell him what you are about.”

Panic sent gooseflesh up her spine. “You would not dare!”

“Convince me not to, Eugenia. Give me a reason—just one—to hold my tongue. But be warned, it had better be good.”

In her heart, she knew he was right. She knew she’d been foolhardy even though Mayfair was not Whitechapel, and that desperation had driven her to absurd lengths. She knew,
too, that she’d put herself in danger akin to the sort that had landed her in trouble in the first place. She was ill at ease all the time, but she couldn’t help herself.

Lacking a sane reason to convince him, she rose on her tiptoes and placed her lips against his. She felt him stiffen in shock, then soften to her insistence. His arms tightened around her as he deepened the kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue, testing her resolve. Did he think she’d relent? Beg off? Run home?

Oh, he’d sorely underestimated her.

Eugenia’s sweet persistence took Jamie by surprise, though his body responded in the most primitive way. For the briefest of moments he’d been angry at her ploy, but then he’d understood her desperation. Understood it and knew he could never use it to take what he’d wanted for so long.

Ah, but what could a kiss or two hurt? Something to carry with him after she’d gone back to Ireland. Something to warm him in the long, cold days to come.

He lifted her slightly to fit her against him, to feel the hollow of her femininity. She moaned and clung tighter as he pressed her back against the tree that had sheltered them from vision. She tangled her fingers through his hair and held him close, as if she were afraid he’d withdraw. Oh, but not in this life.

She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Giving her time to catch her breath, he lifted her a few inches more and trailed kisses down her throat to the little dip at the base. The scent of ambergris and moss rose to him as he ran his tongue over the vulnerable spot.

He could feel her trying to deepen the contact of their hips, but her skirts would not allow it. He began to hitch them higher, to wrap those graceful limbs around his waist,
but he caught himself. He had not lost that last shred of his decency.

“No,” she gasped. “Find a place. Now, Jamie. Now.”

He could not mistake her intent. She wanted to finish this, to make love fully rather than their usual interrupted attempts. “You cannot know …”

“I want to, Jamie. I need to know.”

He knew a public house very near. The proprietor would not ask questions this time of night. He draped the brown shawl over her head, took her hand and led her away from the deserted house and around a corner, but he balked. His sensibilities would not allow him to take Eugenia to a common public house. His flat was less than a mile away and he’d sent his valet on a fortnight holiday to have him out of the way should any attempts to murder him extend to his home. Now on the busier street, he flagged a coach, shouted his address and lifted Eugenia in, wondering if she would change her mind and if the moment of madness had passed.

He need not have worried. The coach was scarcely in motion before she was in his arms again, kissing him with a fervent desperation. He’d never sensed such honest and overwhelming passion before.

She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, slipped her hands inside and awakened a rising anticipation in his too-responsive body. He needed her, craved her like no other. And he was well past embarrassment when the coach door opened and the driver gave him a wink.

“Shilling, sixpence, sir.”

Jamie tossed him a few coins without looking and was met with a pleased, “Obliged, sir.”

Shielding her from the driver’s view, he escorted her up the steps to his rented flat, fumbled with the key and had her safely inside by the time the coach drew away.

Her shawl fell to the foyer floor as she reached up to him
again, her eyes already heavy-lidded in anticipation of another kiss. He complied, almost laughing as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, knowing there was still a chance for her to change her mind. Pray for her sake that she did, because he could not.

The room was darkened but for the glow of banked coals in the fireplace. He placed her on her feet beside the bedpost and went to open a window to the summer night, and by the time he turned back, Eugenia was fumbling with the fasteners at the front of her gown. He watched her for a moment, feeling his libido riot with good sense.

She was not practiced in the art of undressing for a man, as his mistresses had been, but there was something very endearing in her innocent haste. Then she looked up from her task and her eyes met his. A blush spread across her cheeks even as her lips lifted at the corners in a shy smile.

He went to her and held her shoulders. “Are you certain, Eugenia?”

She nodded, a universe of promise in her eyes.

He slid his hands down to cover hers and take their place. One lace at a time he undid her gown, revealing fine silk beneath the rough homespun. Like Eugenia herself, the deeper he went, the finer the fabric. By the time her gown slid to the floor and he sighed at her lack of a corset, he was burning with his need to feel her beneath him, fitting herself to him, closing around him.

The sheer silk of her chemise and stockings taunted him, revealing, and yet not revealing her. He was uncertain how to continue without ripping the delicate fabric when she took matters into her own hands. Or, rather, took
him
into her own hands.

She quickly slipped the knot of his cravat, discarded the length of cloth and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. She’d
forgotten his waistcoat and had to push it off his arms. He smiled at her eagerness. She was new territory for him. He’d never made love to an innocent girl before, and he wanted this to be memorable for her. With that thought came another.

Leave Miss Eugenia alone. She deserves better.

Charlie’s words sobered him. How could he do this to Eugenia? How could he take the incredible gift she offered and ask no more?

“No, Eugenia. I cannot do this. It was a mistake. I am so sorry for—”

She blinked and her eyes narrowed. “You cannot? Or
will
not?” She pushed him in anger and, unprepared, he staggered backward, landing against the wall. “Is it because you have already seen me naked and did not like it?”

By all the saints! How could she ever think such a thing? She had haunted his nights ever since, but not with disgust—with longing and desire. “Eugenia, you will thank me when the passion clears. How could I take advantage—”

She threw herself against him, and bunched the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she shook him. “You cannot stop now, Jamie. You cannot. You owe this much to me.”

The violence of her passion, the raw emotion in her voice, reached him and he understood what she wanted, what she needed. Though he suspected he’d regret it the rest of his life, he surrendered his conscience.

Lost. He was lost. All his lofty principles about leaving the ladies of the ton alone, of restricting his amorous activities to the demimonde, to women who had no power over him, went out that window on the late summer breeze.

“Easy, Eugenia,” Jamie cooed.

Caught up in her own need, she pulled his shirttails over his head and he lifted his arms to help her. She swayed slightly at the sight of his bare chest. She’d never seen this much of
a man exposed before. Her breath hitched and she realized she’d stopped breathing for a moment.

He steadied her and waited while she looked down at his remaining clothing. She skimmed her trembling fingers along the warm flesh above his breeches, seeking the button to the flap that covered him. Could she go so far as to…She slipped her fingers beneath the band but he stopped her and backed toward the bed to sit.

Toe to heel, he wedged his boots off, dragging his stockings with them, then lifted her in his arms and placed her on his lap. He traced the line of her hip beneath the fluid silk and sighed. “I am afraid I will rip your underpinnings, Gina.”

He’d called her Gina. Oh, he could leave her underpinnings in shreds for all she cared.

With a little sigh, he pinched one corner of her chemise and eased it from under her to glide it up her sides and over her head. As she was exposed, she shivered and her nipples grew taut. She had thought it would be easier once she was undressed, as if the deed were almost done, but as Jamie dropped his gaze to her breasts she held her breath in fear. Oh, pray he did not think her inadequate. But his next move dispelled her worry.

He nuzzled her neck, stopping to worship her scar with his kisses, and half turned to ease her back against pillows that smelled of his cologne and his uniquely masculine musk. Something tingled deep inside her and she was suddenly impatient to have this done with. Despite the vague memories, despite the ever-present fear, to know, once and for all…

Leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, he lowered his head farther, drawing one firm areola into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue, nipping gently with his teeth. Oh! She had never felt anything half so delightful! She bent one knee to rest against him and he groaned deep in his throat.

He stood quickly, but before she could form a protest,
he had undone his breeches, dropped them to the floor and turned back to her. He was glorious. He was terrifying. Her heartbeat sped and she fought her rising anxiety.

Jamie was beside her again, kissing her with a fierceness that took her breath away and left no doubt that he wanted her. At least for this moment. For this small space of time.

She tangled her fingers through his hair, wishing she could hold him there forever. He was doing such wondrous things to her, such unspeakably pleasurable things, that she could not remain still. Again she raised her knee to glide along his bare hip, reveling in his heat and strength.

He groaned and moved lower, taking one breast into his mouth, and nibbled, gently drawing forth an answering heat in her middle. She felt as if she were straining for something as yet unknown, but she knew Jamie would reveal it to her in the fullness of time.

He slid his hand lower, to the juncture of her legs, and her raised knee made her vulnerable to his touch. He began a seductive rhythmic stroking at the top of her cleft that had her lifting her hips to meet him.

“Ah, that’s it, Gina. Open for me. Let me in.”

His praise warmed her and she was ready when he moved his hand just a bit lower and entered her with one long finger. She stiffened at that foreign invasion and caught her breath, then expelled it slowly as the rhythmic stroking began again.

Heavenly and naughty at the same time….
That could be said of more than Jamie’s kisses.

“Like molten silk, Gina. So soft, so snug.”

The pad of his thumb continued to stroke that sensitive little nub as he slipped one finger steadily in and out. Within moments she was arching to his hand, craving more, hungering to have him deeper inside her.

Unthinkingly, she reached for him, for that part of him that
was uniquely male, wanting to know how he felt, and if she could give him the pleasure he was giving her. As her hand closed around his shaft, he groaned and jerked as if she’d hurt him, but she knew she hadn’t by the deep sigh he gave her.

“Yes, Gina. Yes. Touch me.”

She smiled, delighted that she’d pleasured him. As she rose to his hand, she tightened her hand around him, following the rhythm he’d set, finding it so insanely sensual that she shuddered.

Suddenly Jamie pulled away and moved down her body, stopping to explore her navel along the way, then dipping lower to where his hand had been. The first stroke of his tongue drew a shocked gasp from her, but then the sheer pleasure of it blanketed her in heat and had her incapable of thinking of anything but the next stroke of his tongue, and the next.