The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) (34 page)

Adaira barely heard his words, wrapped in sensations so overwhelming, cognitive thought was impossible. She surged upward, meeting his every stroke, passion coiling tighter and tighter, until all at once, she shattered into a thousand fragments of sensation, sailing on a sea of bliss.

In the recesses of her mind, as she floated back to awareness, she felt him pumping into her harder and faster. With a gravelly groan, he collapsed atop her, his face nestled in the crook of her neck.

His labored breathing blended with her soft pants. Long moments passed until her heartbeat returned to normal. Roark raised himself onto one elbow, his gaze burning a path straight to her unguarded soul.

She licked her lips. “Is it always like that?”

A beautiful smile curved his mouth before he placed a soft kiss on her mouth. “Never before.”

He withdrew from her. She almost cried out, suddenly bereft. As if sensing her need to be held, he wrapped her in his embrace, rolling with her until she lay across his chest. He traced her jaw with his finger, then trailed lower still to her breasts crushed against his chest.

“Pray tell me, vixen, how I came to bed a virgin?”

Roark caressed her with his gaze.

Satiated, Adaira snuggled atop him, one slender leg wedged between his, a baffled look on her lovely face. “Brayan must have stopped Godwin before he finished.”

She shifted, folding her arms across Roark’s chest. Resting her chin on them, she said, “I fainted and had always assumed he’d completed the act.”

A shudder rippled through her. Roark ran a soothing hand from her shoulder to hip.

“I won’t lie and tell you I’m not profoundly grateful he didn’t, because I’d never want you to suffer through that.” He trailed a finger across her lips. “But know this, Addy. You’re lack of virginity was never of importance to me. When you love someone they way I love you, nothing else matters.”

She kissed his fingers.

He focused his gaze on her breasts squashed atop his chest, while giving her
derrière
a firm squeeze. “You’ve such a deliciously lush body.”

He brushed her breast with a fingertip.

Adaira grinned at him impishly. “My
lush
body? I thought you preferred
much
more voluptuous figures.”

With a growl, Roark pinned her beneath him. “Shall I demonstrate exactly how delectable I find you?”

She curved her pretty mouth into a coy smile. Her pupils huge with desire, she purred, “Oh, please do.”

Roark needed no further encouragement. His taking of her this time was swift and wild. He needed to mark her as his for eternity. Rising on his elbows, he watched her face as he brought her to ecstasy. Panting, lips parted, Adaira threw back her head and stiffened. A guttural cry wrenched from her throat.

Adaira’s eyes flew open, her gaze meshing with his as she climaxed, convulsing over and over. Her passion-laden eyes widened when she felt him reach his apex.

“Roark!” she cried, gripping his scarred back, drawing him closer.

He ground into her, hands beneath her buttocks so she’d receive every bit of him. His hot seed spilled in to her womb, toppling her over the edge again.

He folded her in his embrace. Within moments, sleep claimed her. Tucked beneath his chin, her head rested on his shoulder. Listening to Adaira’s soft, rhythmic breathing, sleep beckoned Roark.

He refused to succumb.

They’d been tailed, he was certain of it, hence the two rooms. So, why hadn’t the Bow Street Runners or Edgar shown their hands?

CHAPTER 35

Content as a pampered cat, Adaira stretched and half-opened her eyes. Roark wasn’t in bed.

“My bride awakens at last.”

Fully clothed, he stood by the table pouring steaming tea into a cup. Flashing her a dazzling smile, his gaze rested on her flesh exposed above the sheet. “I was going to wake you in a moment. We need to be on our way as soon as you’ve eaten and dressed.”

In four long strides, he crossed to the bed. He placed one knee on the mattress, then leaned over and gave her a very thorough kiss. “Good morning, Lady Clarendon.”

He smoothed a finger along her collarbone.

She sighed, relishing his touch. “Good morning.”

Roark stepped away.

“As much as I’d love to continue, we really must be off, Adaira. As you know, the Bow Street Runners are pursuing us.”

A slight frown creased his brow. “Now, that we’re married, I’d prefer to deal with them on English soil. Truthfully, I expected them to overtake us sooner.”

“Do you think they’re close by?” A ripple of fear raised goose pimples across her bare skin.

He nodded. “It’s unlikely we’ll make England without encountering them.”

Adaira flew from the bed. She scampered to don her clothing. Bending over, she searched for her short chemise in her bag on the floor. She snatched up a shirt.

Suddenly, strong arms encircled her from behind. Roark nestled his groin against her backside. “Don’t tempt me, woman.”

Spinning her to face him, he grabbed the shirt and yanked it over her head. The bottom edge barely reached the top of her thighs. He groaned, “If I stay here one more minute, we’ll be between the sheets again.”

He slanted his head in the direction of the bed.

“Would that be so bad? It sounds rather pleasant.”

Adaira drifted her hand to the hard knot nudging her. She couldn’t believe her boldness.

“Bugger it!” Roark jumped back as if stung.

She giggled. “My lord, are you afraid of me?”

“I’m afraid of what you do to me. I’m convinced something’s afoot. I sense it. As much as I’d like to toss you on the bed and make love to you, wisdom dictates otherwise.”

Feeling incredibly wicked, she let her shirt slip off her shoulder, exposing all but the nipple of one breast. “If you’re sure. . .”

Stepping to the door, he grasped the latch, his gaze looking everywhere but at her. “I’m going to check on the horses and ask Mrs. Bowie to pack us some food. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”

Adaira nodded, quite liking her husband’s flustered state. “I’ll be ready.”

She bent to collect her breeches, deliberately giving him an enticing view of her bottom.

The door banging shut muffled Roark’s, “damn.”

She grinned.

Once dressed, she made quick work of plaiting her hair. After stuffing her possessions into her valise, she placed the bag and her riding crop on the mussed bed. She made a visual search of the room. Where was Roark’s satchel? He must have taken it with him.

Collecting a serviette and an oatcake in one hand, and the full teacup and saucer in the other, she made for the window. If the rays streaming in through the glass were any indication, the day would prove as warm as yesterday. After setting the cup on the ledge to allow the tea to cool, she undid the latch. Shoving the window open, Adaira welcomed the fresh morning air.

She nibbled the oatcake. She much preferred riding to being confined in a carriage, especially when the weather was warm.

Would Roark mind if they made a detour to Craiglocky before returning to Cadbury? She had something she wanted to show him— had only this minute realized how important it was that he see it. Chewing the sweet oats, she smiled, anticipating the look on his face.

The door swished open. She turned. The man standing there wasn’t Roark, yet he resembled him greatly.

Edgar.

Forgetting the food in her mouth, she inhaled a swift gulp of air and choked on the oatcake. Eyes watering, she gasped and coughed.

Trying to remain calm, Adaira reached for the teacup. From the corner of her eye, she scanned the courtyard below. Only the lad from last night wandered about.

Where was Roark? Taking a sip of hot tea, she managed to wash down the chalk-dry glob wedged in her throat. She soundly burnt her mouth in the process.

Uncertain she could speak, Adaira swallowed twice.

Stepping across the threshold, Edgar nudged the door closed with his grungy booted foot. He never took his hard gaze off her.

“So, you’re the wench who thwarted my plans.”

He shook his head. “You cannot imagine how irritated I was to discover my ever-noble brother intended to make an honest woman of you.” His arctic gaze flicked to the bed. A suggestive grin twisted his mouth. “I assume the deed is done? Or, did he bed you before you were wed?”

Helping himself to a sausage, he took a bite. “It’s of no consequence. You’re excess baggage I can ill-afford to have interfering with my well-laid plans.”

Facing him fully, Adaira judged the distance to her crop. Five feet. Perhaps a bit more.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” She sounded composed, but her hands shook so badly, the teacup rattled on its saucer.

“What do I want? Why, to ensure my dear brother never has an heir and denies me my inheritance.”

She took a tentative step forward. He seemed unconcerned that she might pose a threat and continued to greedily stuff her breakfast into his mouth.

“Just how do you intend to ensure you inherit?” She took another step. “You cannot very well kill both of us in here.” She flicked her hand in the air. Good. Busy gobbling her food, he paid no attention to her movements.

Half a step more. “That’s bound to be suspicious. The innkeeper knows we arrived alone. And Roark told her we might have unwanted company.”

She edged forward a bit more.

Edgar shrugged his shoulders. With his mouth full of food, he mumbled, “She’s easy enough to dispose of.”

Six inches more. “You think you can kill Roark, me,
and
Mrs. Bowie and get away with it? Not likely.”

Adaira laughed scornfully.

Edgar stiffened. He faced her full on, fury radiating from him. Her heart lurched to her throat. She’d made a strategic error. He didn’t like being laughed at.

“Oh, I’ll get away with it. You see, no one knows I’m here. I watched a stupid serving wench enter through an entrance by the stairs. Unsuspecting Mrs. Bowie will meet with my knife the next time she ventures outside.”

The blood rushed from Adaira’s face, leaving her lightheaded. Following Roark upstairs last night, she’d seen the door. The entrance wasn’t visible from the common room or kitchen.

“Your ashen face tells me you know which entry I mean. So easy to slip inside and sneak to the upper chambers unnoticed. Quite remiss on the innkeepers’ part, really.” He wiped away a crumb clinging to his lower lip.

Adaira squared her shoulders and jutted her chin out. “It won’t be so easy to kill Roark and me.”

Edgar shrugged. “They’ll think you and Rory had a lover’s quarrel.”

He slipped a wicked looking knife from inside his coat. “I’ll make it appear he killed you. Then, overcome with remorse, he’ll take his own life. He’ll leave a note, of course. Terribly tragic, you being newlyweds and all that rot.”

Edgar lashed the air with the knife. “Or maybe, you were robbed by some crazed fiend who carved the both of you up.”

A deranged chuckle escaped him.

He’s mad.
Where is Roark?

Adaira was desperate for him to return, and equally terrified he would. She shuffled from foot to foot, moving toward the bed as she did. The crop was almost within reach. She slipped forward a hand’s-breadth more.

“That’s ridiculous. No one will believe such drivel. Your reputation precedes you. You’re the first person they’ll suspect. In fact, the Bow Street Runners should be arriving any moment. They followed us from Cadbury, and my brother saw you in Ashby.”

“Bow Street Runners? What for?”

For a fraction of a second, uncertainty whisked across Edgar’s face. The next instant, unadulterated madness replaced his confusion. He lunged for her at the precise moment she leaped for her crop. She instinctively hurled the remaining hot tea in his face.

He howled in pain and outrage, swinging at her blindly. “You bitch.”

Whipping the cover off her crop, she faced him, her blade at the ready. “You’ll not kill me without a fight.”

A malicious grin twisted his mouth. Edgar crouched and slid a second knife from his boot.

Mother of God.

He waved the blades in the air menacingly. “Do you know how many people I’ve killed with these? No?”

His unhinged cackle filled the room. “Me neither.”

A commotion in the courtyard sifted through the open window. Edgar charged at her. Adaira screamed and deflected his blows, short sword striking knife edge. Relentless, he swung the knives with fluid determination. With every swipe, he cursed her.

Oh, God, where was Roark? He’s been gone too long.

Her arm tired. She searched for an opportunity to strike Edgar. It took every bit of her concentration to keep him at bay. A sly gleam entered his eyes. He hurled one knife at her. She leapt to the side, dodging it. With a cry of terror, she lost her balance. She tumbled to the floor, losing her grip on the crop.

Edgar stood over her, a sinister gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He lifted his arm. Her gaze locked with his.

Oh, R
oark. I’ll never be able to tell you I love you.

Adaira threw her arm over her head to deflect Edgar’s blow.

The room erupted in chaos. A gun’s deafening report reverberated in the small chamber. The explosion competed with the shouts and curses of men.

Edgar collapsed to his knees beside her. Gasping, fear choking her, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. His unfocused blue eyes, so like Roark’s, glassed over. He toppled into her, pinning her to the floor with his weight.

“Get off!” she screamed, struggling to dislodge him.

She shrieked again as blackness threatened. The next moment, she was free of him. Roark’s arms encircled her.

“Roark!” She buried her face against his chest, sobbing. “He was going to kill us.”

“Shh, vixen. I’m here now. He’ll never hurt anyone again.” Roark scooped her into his arms. “I’m taking her to another room, Sethwick.”

Ewan? He was here too?

Adaira raised her head. He and four other men dressed entirely in black, crowded the room. Two stood over Edgar, talking in hushed tones. Her gaze dipped to the smoking gun in Ewan’s hand. “You shot him?”

She closed her eyes briefly, forcing the nausea billowing in her throat to abate. Her brother had killed Roark’s brother.

“Aye, Addy.” There was no victory on his face. He shifted his remorse-filled gaze to Roark’s. His brogue thickened as it did when he was emotional. “I’m sorry. He gave me nae choice.”

Roark released a trembling breath against Adaira’s hair. “I know.”

He hugged her to him. “I want to get her out of here. Tell Fletcher we’re in the room across the hall.”

After Mr. Fletcher briefly, but thoroughly, questioned Adaira and Roark about Edgar, he turned his attention to their hasty marriage and the charges against her. “I regret having to press you, my lady, after what you’ve endured. As you know, rather serious charges have been brought against you.”

Roark stared the man down. “Given Mrs. Winthrop and her cousins’ intent was to abduct my wife at gunpoint, not to mention threatening the other four women in the room, and the count stabbed Adaira, I insist they have charges brought against them.”

Fletcher’s bushy eyebrows kissed the top of his forehead. “May I presume what they claim was an unprovoked attack was actually self-defense?”

Adaira nodded. “Yes. We, my mother, my sisters, and a maid, outnumbered them and thought an offense was my only chance of escaping the count.”

Rubbing his chin, Fletcher assessed her. “Well, this does alter things.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “You understand, the investigation must proceed? However, based on the information you’ve told me, I certainly see no need to take you into custody.”

It was a full hour later before Adaira and Roark finally left Kirkhouse Inn. Mrs. Bowie had been profusely apologized to. She’d been generously compensated for the damaged chamber as well.

A trifle sore from Roark’s lovemaking, Adaira’s discomfort wasn’t enough to prevent her from riding. Slowly cantering their horses along the dusty lane, paralleled on either side by flowing meadows dotted with wildflowers, Roark asked, “You’re quite certain you’re able to travel?”

His worried scrutiny hadn’t left her for more than a few seconds since Ewan shot Edgar.

She smiled. “I couldn’t stay there another moment, and I truly am fit for travel. Craiglocky isn’t much more than two hours from here.”

Roark cocked his head. “Why is it we journey to the castle rather than returning to Cadbury with the others? Your family will be worried.” He chuckled. “They’re at Cadbury and we’ll be at Craiglocky. Quite the reverse of how it ought to be.”

Adaira raised her face to the sun. She relished the soothing rays on her cheeks, despite the freckles guaranteed to appear.

“Ewan will tell them where we’ve gone. I have something important I need to do at the castle.” Adaira kicked Fionn’s sides, surging ahead of Roark. She called over her shoulder, “Come along, then.”

They made good time, alternating between galloping and walking the horses. The sun hung high in the cloudless sky when they trotted into Craigcutty. Adaira cast Roark a glance. Was he remembering the day they’d met?

He turned his warm gaze on her and smiled. He was.

How her feelings for this man had changed in the span of a few short months. From loathing to love. Adaira touched the cross at her neck. It was almost as if their meeting had been preordained.