Sylvia Day - [Georgian 03] (9 page)

“You do not have to become involved,” Maria said, heaving out her breath. “You are presently engaged. Enjoy your day.”

“You are upset,
mhuirnín.
And perhaps I can help. We were on our way out of Town for holiday, as it was. Miss Rousseau does not mind the alteration of our destination.”

“No, no indeed,” the Frenchwoman said, smiling. “In fact, I should like to come along. Foolish young lovers are always so diverting.”

Simon growled, the sound so edgy that Maria reconsidered her continuing protests and held her silence instead. Simon had been her lieutenant for many years, and his assistance would be tremendously valuable. Whatever the situation was between him and Miss Rousseau, it was for them alone to work out. She had enough trouble of her own to manage.

It was a few moments longer before the gleam of highly polished black lacquer heralded the approach of the St. John town coach. Maria hoped that the distance to be traveled was not one that would need the sturdier travel carriage.

Simon’s equipage drew up behind hers, and with laudable haste they were all in hot pursuit.

 

Colin vaulted down from his travel coach with relief, his long legs cramped from the many hours spent traveling from London to the small posting inn just past Reading. He stood in the courtyard a moment and surveyed his moonlit surroundings. Jacques alighted behind him, and together they entered the inn to secure their lodging for the night.

The dim interior was quiet. Only a few patrons remained in the main room; the rest had retired. The necessary arrangements were quickly dealt with, and shortly, Colin found himself in a small, sparsely furnished room that was clean and comfortable.

As soon as he was alone, melancholy descended in a cold, weighty mantle. He was a day’s ride away from Amelia, with the morrow bringing even more distance between them. Frustrated by the progression of events, he prayed sleep would offer him a brief respite, but after years of dreaming of Amelia, he did not hold out much hope.

He was reaching to close the curtains when the door opened behind him. Gripping the hilt of the dagger hidden in his coat, he canted his torso to make himself a smaller target.

“Montoya.”

Amelia’s sweetly feminine voice caused him to freeze in midturn. He had hoped to be followed, but not by her. Now the danger that stalked him shadowed her as well.

“I had to see you,” she murmured. “Your carriage passed me in the street, and I could not allow you to go.”

Only years of training and living by his wits leashed his surprise, preventing him from ruining everything by facing her. Instead he closed the drapes, dimming the gentle light of the moon before turning toward her. If he was fortunate, the banked fire in the grate would keep his face mostly in shadow, lessening the possibility of recognition.

Mentally prepared only for her reaction to him, Colin was completely vulnerable to his own reaction to her. The sight of her by the door—and near a bed—hit him like a blow, freeing a possessive, primitive growl from his tightened throat. She shivered at the sound, her lips parting with quickened breaths.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Did she know what she did to him?

She stood proud and undaunted before the door, a beribboned hat tied at a jaunty angle, her slender body encased in a gown of shimmering satin and delicate white lace. The innocent cut of the dress made the years fall away, made him hard as a rock and hot to claim her. He loved her deeply and completely with lingering traces of his boyish adoration, but he also lusted for her with every drop of the wild Gypsy blood in his veins.

“Tell me you did not travel alone,” he bit out, hating to think of such beauty unattended. She was a treasure to be secured and valued. The thought of her on the journey without a guard, unwittingly in jeopardy, tied him in knots.

“I am protected.” Her eyes glittered in the muted light, and she queried in a whisper, “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” he said hoarsely, his heart thudding with rhythmic violence in his chest.

“The mask . . .” She inhaled audibly. “Most men look especially dashing in evening attire. You—”

“Amelia—”

“—move me always. Whatever you wear, wherever we are.”

His eyes closed as her praise rippled through him. He took an involuntary step toward her, then jerked to a halt. The room was suddenly too small and airless; the need to divest them both of every stitch of cloth was nearly overwhelming. His craving for her grew more ferocious, clawing and biting in its desire to be appeased.

“Are you happy to see me?” she asked in a small voice.

Colin shook his head, his eyes opening because he couldn’t bear not to see her. “It kills me.”

Tenderness swept over her finely wrought features and called to something deep inside him.

“It is the yearning I sense in you that lures me.” She stepped closer, and he lifted a hand to halt her progress before she came too near. “As long as you want me, I will want you in return.”

“I would have ceased wanting you long ago,” he rasped, “if such a thing were possible.”

Her head tilted to the side as she considered him. “You lie.”

Unable to resist, he smiled at that. She was audacious still.

“You enjoy wanting me,” she said, with purely female satisfaction.

“I would enjoy having you more,” he purred.

When her gaze shot to the bed, his cock swelled to full arousal. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, and a rough, edgy sound rumbled from his chest.

“Come with me,” she entreated, her gaze returning to his. “Meet my family. My sister and her husband can assist you. Whatever plagues you, they can help to resolve.”

Colin’s gut tightened. He should say no . . . He should avoid bringing any danger into her life . . .

But the possibility of having her
now
. . . No more waiting, no more hiding . . .

It was night, a bed was near, and they were alone. His deepest fantasy made reality.

He stepped toward her. “There is something I must tell you. Something you will find difficult to understand. Do you have time to hear me out?”

She lifted her gloved hand and extended it to him. “As much as you need.”

“What of those who came with you?”

“He is drinking below.” She smiled. “I lied, you see. I pointed out a different patron and said I suspected he was you. So Tim is occupied with watching him, while I inquired discreetly and found you. You have a unique form—so tall and broad. The maids noticed you when you came in.”

“What of your reputation, then? A young woman of obviously fine breeding making inquiries about a bachelor.”

“Once I learned where you were, I described my relief at finding my brother who is wearing dark green.”

Colin glanced down at his blue garments.
Dear God, was it true? Could he have her?

She beamed with obvious pride in her cleverness.

“You have gone to a great deal of trouble to find me, Miss Benbridge.”

“Amelia,” she corrected. “And yes I have.”

He smiled. “Turn around, then, and face the door.”

Amelia frowned. “Why?”

“Because I need to approach you, and I am not certain how much of my face can be seen in this light.” When she hesitated, he said, “
You
pursue
me
. You want me. I will be yours, in every sense, but in return you must listen to me without question. Does that frighten you?”

She swallowed hard, her irises overtaken by dilated pupils. Then she shook her head.

“It excites you,” he murmured. Hot, potent lust intoxicated him, easing the relentless drive that set him on edge. He had always led the way with her. It was highly arousing to lead the way in their bedsport, as well. “Turn.”

Complying, she faced away from him, and Colin approached with a rapid stride, freed from the fear of untimely recognition. He pressed up against her, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle, placing his palms flat to the panels on either side of her head.

The vein in her throat fluttered with her increasing heartbeat, arresting his attention.

The sound of the bolt sliding home stiffened his frame and drew his gaze away.

How simple the action was, that of locking the door, but it aroused him as nothing ever had. She
wanted
him to take her, to strip her bare, to fuck her sweet little body until he was spent and conquered.

Though he knew it, he still wanted her to say the words aloud.

“There is no chance that you will depart this room as virginal as you entered it,” he murmured, his tongue stroking over her racing pulse.

In answer, she reached for the chair by the door and pushed back hard against him, creating a gap that allowed her to wedge the spindle back beneath the knob.

“Do you anticipate interruptions?” he asked, with laughter in his voice and heart. “Or do you simply wish to keep the world at bay?”

The thought of Amelia forsaking the world at large to be with him made his chest tight. She had promised to do so as a young girl. Would she recommit to that promise as a woman?

“You assume I wish to lock others out.” Her mouth curved in a woman’s smile. “Perhaps I wish to lock you in.”

Colin threw back his head and laughed at that, his arms banding her torso and squeezing her tightly. “Ah, love. How glad I am that you remain so spirited.”

“The threat of lovemaking is not sufficient to repress me,” she retorted.

No, but his identity might be. The thought was sobering. He inhaled sharply. “Amelia, I must share my face and past with you before we can proceed.”

The tension that gripped her was palpable. “Will it change how I feel about you?”

“Most definitely, yes.”

“Do not reveal anything.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Right now, in this moment, I feel as if I could not breathe without you near.” Her voice was low and earnest. “I’ve no desire to be disillusioned. Not after these last years when nothing was vital to me. It seems almost as if I walked through life wearing a veil. Only when I am with you do I see the world in all its many colors.”

Pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered, “You should place greater worth upon your virginity. I cannot take you—”

She turned her head and pressed her lips to his. The sudden rush of sensation was dizzying. Then unbearably arousing. He felt her moving, but was unable to break the contact to discover why. His tongue stroked across her lips, licking the innocently sweet flavor that was innate to her. The taste was addicting, destroying him. He was helpless to resist it. When her bare fingertips wrapped around his wrist and lifted his hand to her breast, he knew there was no fighting her. He could not simply blurt out who he was. The revelation required more tact than that.

“I can see you with my heart,” she said breathlessly, her lips moving against his. “I want to have you while I feel for you as I do at this moment—wild and hot and free. Does that make me reckless and naïve? Do you find me foolish and fast?”

With every word that left her mouth he grew harder and less controlled.
Wild. Hot. Free
. The combination was a potent allure for a Gypsy male. Amelia had lived outside the boundaries of Society for so long, she found it easier than most to ignore its constrictions. He suspected that contributed to their affinity. At heart, they were both desperate to run laughing through the fields without any restraints.

Colin reached around her and unfastened the jeweled brooch that secured her lace fichu. “Can I cover your eyes?” he asked in a dark voice. “Would that dampen your ardor?”

She tried to turn her head to meet his gaze, and he stopped her with a kiss. “I would not have the revelation occur during the act. I want nothing to mar our first time together. I have waited too long for it and desired it too deeply to see it ruined.”

Nodding, she held still as he twisted the expensive lace loosely, then tied it around her head in a makeshift blindfold.

“How does that feel?”

“Strange.”

“Do not move.” Colin backed up and shed his coat. He unwound his cravat, then began to work on the carved ivory buttons of his waistcoat.

“Are you undressing?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He watched a shiver move through her and smiled. How erotically beautiful she looked with her kiss-swollen lips and covered eyes. His to savor and enjoy. Pietro had attempted to dissuade him away from Amelia by insisting that Englishwomen lacked the fire a Gypsy man needed. Colin hadn’t believed it then; he certainly did not believe it now.

Her lovely breasts lifted and fell with her rapid breathing; her hands clenched rhythmically at her sides. She was ripe and ready, an oasis in the desert of his barren life.

Shrugging out of his waistcoat, Colin tossed it over the back of a chair and returned to her. “I want you to speak your thoughts to me. Tell me what feels good, what doesn’t. I will know if you lie. Your body will betray you.”

“Then why should I speak?”

“For your benefit.” He caressed her shoulders, then reached for the tiny row of cloth buttons that followed the line of her spine. “Speaking aloud will force you to think in minute detail about what I am doing to you. It will anchor you to the pleasure and this moment.”

“Anchor me to you.”

“Yes, that, too.” He kissed her throat. “It will empower you, be the telling of your desires. You may hesitate to touch me or wonder what is allowed or what is not allowed. But if you sense how the sounds of your pleasure in turn please me, you will know that this is a joining of two lovers playing equal parts.”

“It sounds so intimate,” she breathed.

“For us, my love, it will be.”

W
are entered Christopher St. John’s study shortly after ten in the evening. The infamous pirate was pacing between the back of his desk and the window beyond that with a sort of restlessness the earl had never seen in him before. Sans coat and bearing a skewed cravat, St. John looked rumpled and anxious, which set the hairs on Ware’s nape to rising. After seeing the travel coach hitched in the front circular drive, it was apparent that a journey of some distance was planned.

“My lord,” St. John greeted absently.

“St. John.” He cut straight to the heart of the matter. “What has happened?”

Rounding the desk, the pirate moved to the nearby console and held up a decanter in silent query. Ware shook his head in the negative and sank onto one of the matching settees that sat perpendicular to the grate. He was here to collect Amelia for the evening’s social rounds. It was unlike her to leave him waiting. Her punctuality was one of the many traits he enjoyed in her.

“There is no way for me to relate the day’s events without awkwardness,” St. John began, pouring a hefty ration.

“Never mind that. I prefer bluntness to anything else.”

Nodding, St. John took the seat opposite and said, “Mrs. St. John and Miss Benbridge went into Town today. I was told they meant to spend the day shopping. I have since learned that they were hunting the masked man who has so captured Amelia’s interest.”

Ware’s brows rose. “I see.”

“By some stray chance, Count Montoya—if that truly is his name—was seen departing London. Miss Benbridge hailed a hackney and set off in pursuit. My wife followed shortly after.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Would you care for that drink now, my lord?”

The earl seriously considered it, then shook his head. “I have made some inquiries of my own regarding this matter. I had hoped Lady Langston would shed some light on the man’s identity; however, no invitation was ever issued to a Count Montoya.”

St. John’s lips pursed grimly. “I am at a loss for how to view this situation. If the man meant to hurt her in some fashion or seduce her, why leave London?”

There was jealousy and possessiveness laced with all the other emotions Ware was presently experiencing, but there was also resignation. Some part of him had known that Amelia held off on marriage to him because of a need for . . .
more
. He had no idea what she felt was missing, but in truth their relationship could not progress any further and still end happily without first resolving that lack.

“I am surprised to find you still at home,” the earl said. “Amelia is not my wife, yet I feel a pressing need to go after her.”

The glare the pirate shot at him was cutting. “I am near maddened with the need to follow, but I have no notion of their direction. I am awaiting word.”

“Forgive me, I meant no offense. I was merely making an observation.” He considered his options, then said, “I should like to go with you, if you have no objection.”

St. John seemed ready to argue; then his scowl cleared and he nodded. “If you wish to come along, do. But your formal attire will be a burden.”

Ware stood, as did the pirate. “I will change and pack lightly. If you depart before I return, please leave a note so that I may follow.”

“Of course, my lord.” St. John offered a commiserating smile. “I must apologize to you, as well. Your courting of Amelia has done much for her. Mrs. St. John and I are both exceedingly grateful, as is Amelia.”

“St. John.” Ware laughed ruefully. “At this moment, the matter of my pride is secondary to Amelia’s safety.”

They clasped hands in a gesture of mutual respect. Then the earl hastened to depart before he was left behind. As his carriage rolled away from the St. John residence, Ware began a mental list of what to bring with him.

His small sword and pistol were among the items he catalogued. If Amelia’s honor was to be impugned, he considered it his right and duty to correct the slight.

 

As Colin spread open the back of Amelia’s gown, his thoughts were already rushing ahead, considering how this one night would change their lives forever. “Do you have an abigail with you?”

The blindfold might make some women more timid and hesitant. Not so with Amelia. Her voice came sure and strong. “No. I saw your carriage and gave chase.”

Warring with the primitive need to mark her as his, his heart still wanted to protect her even at great cost to himself. “There will be no way to hide that you have been ravished. In the heat of passion, our better sense deserts us. What you want now, you may regret in the morning.”

“I know my own mind,” she said stubbornly.

“You will give up Ware.” He gently withdrew one of her arms from a sleeve, then repeated the movement on the other side. “And you will belong to me.”

“I think it more likely that you will belong to me.”

Smiling, he bent at the knees and pulled her gown down with him. Amelia stepped out of the garment without urging, balancing her weight by leaning against the door. He deliberately delayed the joy of seeing her stripped from her outer garments. He took his time laying the dress over the back of a wing chair in an effort to spare it the most wrinkling.

“You are so calm,” she murmured. “So controlled. You must have many affairs.”

“This is not an affair.” He turned his head, raking her lithe body with a heated glance. Still too many garments, but he knew that he was seeing her as no other man ever had.

She set her hand on her hip, and a finely arched brow lifted above the fichu. “Perhaps I want an affair.”

“Well, you are not having one with me,” he growled, reaching her in two strides and lifting her feet from the floor. “You will not be having one ever, because no other man will come after me in your bed.”

Amelia laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My . . . how delightful you are when you become possessive.”

He pressed his lips to her ear. “Wait until my cock is inside you. See how delightful my possession is then.”

“Tease,” she said breathlessly, with a slight note of anxiety. “At this rate, the sun will be rising before I am naked.”

“You do not have to be naked to be fucked,” he whispered, deliberately challenging her to revive her spirits. “I could toss up your underskirts, undo my breeches, and pin you to the door.”

“If your intent is to frighten me, you should know that I am difficult to scare.” The anxiousness was gone from her voice, banished by her impressive inner fortitude. “I have lived in the most rustic of places. I have seen all sorts of animals doing all sorts of things to each other.”

He buried his grin in her tender throat.

“Do not find amusement at my expense,” she said. “Your threat is groundless. You would not take my virginity in so callous a manner. You worship me too much.”

“So I do, Your Highness.” Setting her back on her feet, Colin dropped to his knees and kissed her feet.

As she laughed, he moved upward, sliding beneath the masses of skirts, pressing open-mouthed kisses up the length of her stocking-clad legs. Her laughter turned into a gasp, then a soft whimper.

The intimate smell of her drove him insane, and with a tentative finger, Colin tested her, gritting his teeth at finding her slick and hot. Startled by his bold caress, Amelia stumbled and fell into the door with a soft thud.

“Not while I am standing!” she protested.

Pressing a final kiss to the back of her knee, Colin crawled free and stood before her. He gently turned her, then set to work on her tapes and stays, taking the brief respite to regain his control. He focused on his breathing and hers instead of the animal need that clawed inside him.

Finally, she was left with only her chemise, a garment made of material so fine he could almost see clear through it. It was enough to drive him to madness, the far-too-vague hints of her body beneath.

“I want you to remove the rest,” he said, stepping back.

“Why?”

“Because it will please me.”

“It is not as easy as you intimate. I have never been naked before a man.”

“Do it, Amelia,” he ordered, near desperate to see all of her.

With no further hesitation, she reached down and removed her shoes. The hem of her chemise lifted as she reached for the ribbons that secured her stockings. His mouth watered at the sight, every movement she made erasing similar memories from his past. No other woman could compete with the innocent, unaffected fashion in which Amelia undressed. Her movements were not practiced or planned with an eye for seduction, but they aroused him unbearably, nevertheless.

Aching with lust for her, he freed the placket of his breeches and took his cock in hand. He was thick and hard, slick at the tip with wanting her. Stroking leisurely down the length, he groaned in need.

Amelia froze at the sound, unsure of what she had done to distress him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Montoya assured in a gruff voice that belied his words. “Everything is perfect.”

She listened carefully, regulating her breathing in order to take in every nuance of sound. “What are you doing? I hear you moving.”

“I am fondling my cock.”

Images filled her mind, incomplete due to her inexperience, but arousing regardless. The flesh between her legs throbbed in response, making her squeeze her thighs together in a vain effort to ease the ache. “Why?”

“Because it pains me, love. I am hard and ready for you. Harder and thicker than I have ever been.”

“Can I touch it?”

He made a choked noise, and the sounds of his movements became more pronounced. “Bare yourself first.”

Amelia finished undressing with haste, forcibly shoving aside thoughts of her imperfections. Unlike Maria, she was not lushly curved and built for a man’s pleasure. She was taller, thinner, and smaller-breasted. She was too active, enjoying riding and fencing more than card games and teas.

“Dear God,” he gasped when she dropped her chemise to the floor.

Her hands moved to cover herself, but he moved swiftly, catching her wrists. “Never hide from me.”

“I am nervous,” she retorted.

“My love . . .” He wrapped her against him, and she felt his erection between them. Smooth as silk, but hard as a rock and hot to the touch. Despite the shock of it, her body delighted in the feel and grew slicker.

“You are so beautiful, Amelia. Every inch of you. I dreamed of seeing you like this, naked and willing. How sorry those fantasies were compared to the reality.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest and said, “You are being kind.”

Montoya brought her hand to his cock and wrapped her fingers around it. “This is not how a man feels when he finds his lover inadequate.”

Amelia moved, squeezing and caressing, exploring. His breath hissed out between his teeth. “You will make me spend,” he gritted out.

“If it would please you to do so, go ahead,” she replied, wanting to give him pleasure. Wanting to satisfy him in a way that would brand him as hers.

“Minx.”

She stilled as a big, warm hand cupped her breast. Immediately, her nipple, already tight and hard from the chill of the open air, pebbled further.

“See how you fit so perfectly within my palm,” he murmured, his hips beginning to thrust into her movements. “You were built for me, Amelia.” She whimpered as his thumb and forefinger surrounded her nipple and tugged on it, sending pangs of intense pleasure straight to her womb. Everything tightened and coiled, making her move restlessly.

“And how quickly you respond to me.” He leaned back, and a moment later she cried out as hot, wet suction surrounded the tender peak of her breast. Her hands gripped his cock convulsively, and he growled against her skin, the vibration driving her wild.

His powerful arms banded her waist, supporting her as he pushed her backward and worshipped her breast, his tongue curling around her nipple as his cheeks hollowed with drawing pulls.

Just as he had said, every thought left her mind, leaving her a creature of lust and desire. The lack of reason bound her tighter to him. There was only one other man she had ever considered sharing herself with in this way. That Montoya was scarred and haunted had no bearing on the emotions he aroused in her.

“Tell me you love this,” he said, as he moved to her other breast. “Let it out, Amelia. Do not be silent.”

His teeth nipped the hard peak and she cried out. He began licking her, his tongue stroking with maddening leisure. It was not enough, not nearly. She began to writhe, whimpering, arching her back in an attempt to push deeper into his mouth.

“What do you need?” he asked in a dark whisper. “What do you want? Tell me, and I will give it to you.”

Desperate, she begged, “Suck it . . . please . . . I need—”

She gasped as he obliged, his lips closing around her. In her hands his cock throbbed, and a hot trickle of moisture tickled the backs of her fingers. She touched it, found its source at the tiny hole at the head. The pad of her thumb smoothed it around, and he shuddered and suckled her harder.

With her sight stolen from her, every other sense was heightened. As his skin heated, her nostrils filled with his unique scent, increasing her desire. Her sense of touch was painfully acute; even the slight rustle of the air prickled across her flesh.

“Please,” she cried, wanting more.

With one last lingering suck, Montoya straightened and pulled her up with him. Then he lifted her into his arms and moved toward the waiting bed.