The Lady Hellion (24 page)

“I want to keep Taylor,” Quint blurted.

The marquess took that in stride. “If he so chooses, I’ll allow it. You’ll need to increase his wages, however. Your servants are grossly underpaid.”

They were? Quint set that aside for later inspection. “The burn inside his wrist when he came for the interview?”

Ardington relaxed against the seat, an amused expression on his face. “Cosmetic only. That was my touch. I knew you would see it and take sympathy on the boy.”

Clever. “Yes, I did.”

The marquess scratched the side of his face. “Quint, are you aware that I knew your father?”

Quint’s stomach dropped. No one ever spoke of his late father, at least not to Quint. “No, sir.”

“I don’t know if you’ve learned about his accident, but I feel it prudent to tell you, considering . . .” He cleared his throat.

Quint could feel his face heating. Clearly Taylor had been interested in more within Quint’s household than just the cipher and laundry. “Accident?”

“He fell one day while riding his horse, hit his head badly. Suffered a nasty concussion. The doctors did not think he would live, but he pulled through. I swear to you, he was never the same after that accident. I think his brain never healed.” He shook his head. “And it only grew worse in the next few years. You may believe otherwise if you wish, but I knew him before the fall. And he was not mad then, Quint. Far from it.”

Quint sagged into the squabs, his mind racing. Was it true? Had what he perceived as madness all been the lingering effects from a concussion? The brain was mysterious, and physicians had yet to learn how head injuries could affect one years afterward.

The marquess reached over and patted his knee. “Get some sleep, boy. You look terrible.” He turned the latch and began to step out of the carriage.

“One more thing,” Quint said. “To whom are you planning to betroth Lady Sophia at the end of the Season?”

Ardington raised a brow. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

 

 

Sophie awoke slowly, something familiar—a touch, a smell—warming her from the inside, bringing her body alive. A heavy, gentle hand stroked her head. She hummed contentedly and nestled deeper into her bedding.

A male laugh rumbled above her. “Come now,
kotyonok,
” she heard. “Wake up.”

She knew that husky tone. Her lids flew open and she found Quint sitting on the edge of her bed. “Quint,” she breathed. Relief flooded her—relief so profound that tears gathered in her eyes. At one point, when Hudson had held her down to force the liquid mixture in her mouth, she had despaired of seeing Quint or feeling his hands on her ever again.

“Shh,” he murmured and stretched out next to her on the bed, folding her in his strong arms. His body was warm and smelled like soap. She put her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled, fighting back the tears. No one liked a weepy woman.

“Go ahead and cry, if you like. I know you’re struggling to hold it in. Are you worried I’ll think less of you?” His hand cupped her jaw and tilted her head up. Serious brown eyes gazed down at her. “Because I will tell you now, I could never, ever think less of you, Sophie. You are
everything
to me.”

She sucked in an unsteady breath right before he bent to press his lips to hers. Though she was half-covered by the bed linens, he pulled her tight, kissing her carefully, intently, as if to impress the truth behind his words. She melted into the mattress, grateful to be alive and to be kissing him once again. Her fingers curled into the fine fabric of his shirt to hold on to him, as if this all might be a dream.

Was she dreaming? How was he here, in her bedchamber? She broke off from his mouth, and he shifted to press tiny kisses to the edges of her lips and jaw. “Are you really here? Or am I not awake yet?”

Pulling the coverlet down, he palmed her breast through the thin shift she wore to bed. “You feel perfectly awake to me,” he murmured against her throat as he pinched her taut nipple, eliciting a gasp from her.

Ripples of pleasure stole through her body as slick heat gathered between her thighs. “If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up,” she announced, kicking the coverlet completely off.

“Then keep your eyes closed,” he said, continuing to taste and lick his way down her chest. Her breasts swelled under his lips and hands, and she bucked when he drew a cotton-covered nipple deep into his mouth.

He released her with a groan and returned to loom above her. “Sorceress. We need to talk and your body is far too tempting.”

She threw a leg over his hip, the rough fabric of his trousers teasing her skin. “We can talk later. I need you, Quint.” The admission did not embarrass her in the least. She’d been frightened and nearly killed, and she wanted him to make her forget. “Make me forget,” she repeated, this time aloud.

A shudder went through his big body, and she knew he was remembering, too. How terrified he must have been. And yet he’d fought his fears to save her. When she’d come to during the ride home, Colton had answered all her questions patiently, filling in the missing bits on how they’d found her. She and Quint definitely needed to talk, but that could wait. Right now, she wanted to feel his bare skin alongside hers.

Rolling onto her back, she grasped the hem of her shift and brought it over her head. Tossed it to the ground. Quint’s eyes grew dark, hot, as they traveled the length of her bare form. Then he picked up her hand to examine her wrist, where the ropes had abraded her skin. The wounds were ugly and sore, but she would heal. Quint pressed his lips to the inside, where the flesh had rubbed raw. “I am so sorry you were hurt. I should have been with you.”

Sophie thought back to Tolbert, of seeing his throat sliced open. “In that case you may have been killed.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled him down on top of her, brought his mouth to hers. He settled in the cradle of her hips as she nipped his full, enticing bottom lip and wrapped her legs around his lean waist.

Something sparked between them and the kiss turned desperate. Ravenous. He pressed her deeper into the bedding as he slanted his mouth over hers, again and again, his tongue demanding and fervent as it circled with hers. She was sweltering, writhing, and burning alive. Aching for more. “Please, Quint,” she murmured, grinding her core over the hard ridge of his shaft.

He jerked and tried to pull away, but she tightened her limbs, holding him. Defeated, he closed his eyes. “Sophie, you’ve been hurt. Drugged. Scared out of—”

“I’m fine. Don’t stop because you think I am too fragile for this. I’m begging you,
please
.”

He shifted quickly, sliding down and settling between her legs. “Hold your knees. Open yourself for me.”

She grasped her knees and held them wide as he stared at her most intimate parts. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before dipping his head. She felt the flat of his tongue drag along her seam and she nearly exploded then. “So delicious,” he murmured, then followed up with another lick. “I love how wet you get for me,
lyubov moya.
”

Her legs trembled when he moved to gently suck the tiny bud, drawing it into his mouth. Then he switched to long, slow strokes with his tongue. She was panting, delirious with sensation, when he returned to applying more pressure with his lips. He continued to alternate, never continuing long enough to push her over the edge. Consequently, he was driving her out of her skull.

“Quint!” she moaned when he blew on her swollen flesh and teased her further.

“Tell me, where do you ache most? Here?” He nipped at her inner thigh. “Or is it here?” He kissed her lower abdomen. “Or is it perhaps here?” He slid two fingers inside her and her eyes almost rolled back at the magnificent fullness. She brought her hips up to allow him deeper.
Yes, oh yes.

The pleasure began building as he thrust his fingers a few times. Her head thrashed on the pillow, the need so overwhelming and sharp she could hardly stand it. Her body was strung impossibly tight, every muscle tensed. “Oh, God.
Please!
”

“Quiet. We wouldn’t want to wake the house.” He tossed her a small pillow, then returned his mouth to her. One swipe of his tongue was all that was needed, and she used the pillow to muffle her cries as she exploded, quivering and convulsing, the ecstasy ripping through her stronger than any she’d ever experienced. It went on and on, with Quint not letting up until he’d wrung every shake and shiver from her body.

When she finally floated back to herself, he stretched out beside her.

He kissed her forehead. “Better?”

“Oh, indeed,” she muttered. “But don’t stop yet, please.” She reached between them, intent on disrobing him as quickly as possible.

His hand caught her. “Wait. Stop.”

She looked up, noted his flushed skin, dark eyes, and the pulse throbbing at the base of his neck. Even if she couldn’t feel the erection digging into her thigh, it was plain he wanted her. “Why?”

“I won’t bed you tonight. Not until after.”

She blinked up at him. “After what?”

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Then he twined their fingers together. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Lady Sophia?”

Her jaw fell open. This was not what she’d expected. She’d never thought... “What?”

“I cannot guarantee it will be easy, being married to a man like me. And I have no idea if I’ll ever recover enough to be as I was before. But I do not want to spend another minute apart from you, without you by my side.”

“But I thought . . . your father, the illness?”

“I’ll explain later, but I have reason to believe it may have been related to an injury. So I may or may not be like him.” His hand slid to cup her jaw, his expression serious. “Even so, if I have two minutes or two decades left on this earth, of sound mind or addled, I need you to share it with me. I cannot give you up, Sophie.”

Emotion tightened in her chest. Still, she wanted the words. “Do you love me?”

He frowned slightly, his eyebrows lowering in concentration. “What I feel for you . . . it can be neither quantified nor defined. It is so profound, so revolutionary, that no methods to date are equipped to even measure it. A new word should be imagined just to express the depth and scope of it, because ‘love’ does not even come close.”

She inhaled raggedly, both ready to laugh and cry at the same time. “Oh, Quint,” she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck. “
I love you.
”

He held her close. “So does that mean you will marry me?”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

His arms tightened and he kissed her temple. “Thank God,” he exhaled.

“Will you finally take off your clothes now?”

“No.”

She bent to see his face. “No? I just said I would marry you. That means—”

“That means,” he interrupted, “that I shall not bed you until after the ceremony.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “It’s not as if we haven’t been intimate already, and I know you want to.”

“You once said,” he told her quietly, “that you needed a man who wanted more than just to bed you. I am that man, and I shall prove it to you.”

“Quint,” she said, both touched and confused. “That is a sweet but unnecessary gesture. You’ve just asked me to marry you, so there’s no reason to prove anything to me.”

He kissed her briefly, resolutely, then rolled away and stood up. “There is every reason. You are worth any amount of frustration or difficulty. I never want you to feel undeserving of a proper courtship. That”—he pointed at her bed—“was our last encounter until you are my wife.”

She sighed, ready to take him to task, but then noticed his clenched hands, the muscle jumping in his jaw. His eyes were locked on her naked form. So she stretched languidly, putting her body on full display in the hopes he’d change his mind. Quint’s quick intake of breath made her grin. “I hope, then, that you are planning to procure a special license.”

“Yes,” he rasped. “But only because I need the wedding to take place in my home. We’ll still wait a month, however, so you’ll have time to plan a day as perfect as you wish.”

Her hands slid seductively over her skin, her palms cupping her breasts and plumping them. “I think I could convince you to change your mind.” Muttering a curse in a strange language, Quint spun and strode to the door.

Sophie laughed. Then she thought of something. “Will you call on my father to ask for his approval?”

Quint glanced over his shoulder, hand paused on the latch. “I believe I already have it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

True to his word, Quint did not bed her again before their wedding. Sophie did her best to entice him, but he remained resolved. Most nights, under the cover of moonlight, she stole through the mews and snuck into his house. He always kissed her, every bit as passionately as before, but they spent their time talking while strolling through the gardens hand in hand. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, and he seemed to favor being outdoors. Sophie was more than happy to oblige him, pleased with how far he’d come.

Since the night he’d visited her chambers, he had remained at home, preferring to finish work on breaking the cipher. He said he wanted to wait until after their marriage, when she could accompany him, before venturing out. He had taken to hosting their small group of friends for dinner parties, however, and Sophie enjoyed seeing him laugh and joke with Colton and Winchester. Though he wasn’t ready to attend a ball or stroll down Bond Street with her, he seemed lighter, happier. He would recover, she would ensure it.

This particular night, the scent of jasmine floated through the air as they sat together on a stone bench in his gardens. He’d just finished telling her the story of when Colton had punched Winchester in the middle of White’s, making them both chuckle, when she lay her head on his shoulder. “You are in a rare mood tonight.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I finished cracking the cipher today. Turned it over to your father.”

She sat up. “You did? That’s wonderful.” It had been a shock to learn her father worked for the Home Office, that he had kept so much from her over the years. But the two of them had spent many hours talking lately and, though she had not revealed her identity as Sir Stephen to him, learning of his work had comforted her. It seemed a passion for investigation and spying truly was in her blood. “What did Papa say?”

“He was pleased, of course. I’ll have to explain it again in a few weeks to the coding men at the Office, but for now it’s done.”

She rested against his broad shoulder once more. God, how she loved this man. Canis ambled over and sniffed Sophie’s feet before settling by Quint’s side. The dog placed his head on Quint’s knee, and she was pleased to see Quint reach down and stroke the dog’s neck. Considering he was a man who purported not to care for animals, man and beast had gotten on remarkably well. Still watching Canis, she asked, “How did my father know we would suit, do you think?”

“He saw us together.”

“He did? When?”

“At the ball. The one where you followed me into the library and asked me to kiss you. He said he could tell by the way you looked at me that night.”

Had she been so obvious? “But he couldn’t have known it would be reciprocated, especially when you betrothed yourself to the Perfect Pepperton not even a month later.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.

He tilted her chin up and found her eyes. “I only asked her to marry me to gain your attention. I had foolishly hoped to make you jealous, enough so that you would see I was worthy of courting you properly.”

Sophie nearly fell off the bench, her mind spinning. “Wait, it was all a ploy? Do you know how ridiculous that was? I was nearly heartbroken—” She sucked in a breath. “But what about when she ran off with the groom to Gretna Green? You were prepared to go through with the marriage.”

He lifted a brow in what she recognized as a
Have you not figured it out yet?
gesture. “Sophie, who do you think provided them with the means and the carriage with which to elope?”

She pushed his shoulder. “Quint! I cannot believe you are just now telling me this. After all this time—”

“I never wanted you to know. The plan failed and drove you further away from me. I was an idiot. I thought I’d lost you for good, which is why I left and traveled the Continent.”

“What if I had married someone else?”

“But you didn’t,” he pointed out, logically.

“But I might have,” she snapped.

In a blink, he lifted her up and over onto his lap, strong arms holding her in place. “Then I would have found a way to stop it in time.” The earnestness in his expression and his voice touched her heart. She believed him. Cupping his head, she brought him down for a bone-melting kiss.

He pulled back too soon, grinning in response to the frustrated glare she gave him. “Six days,
kotyonok.
You can last.”

“I still say no one will know.”

“I will know. And so will you.” He gently drew a hand over her short curls. “You are more than a willing bed partner to me. You are my life, Sophie.”

Hard to complain when he put it so sweetly. She leaned into him, rested her hand on his chest above his steady heartbeat. “Stubborn man,” she muttered, though it came out more like a breathy compliment.

“You’ve been strangely quiet on things other than plans for the wedding. What is next for Sir Stephen?”

She arched to see his face. “I hadn’t thought . . . that is, you don’t mind if after we’re married . . . ?”

“Did you think I would stop you?” His gorgeous, full lips turned into a frown. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“But you said it was dangerous. I assumed you would want me safe at home.”

“I do want you safe at home, but that would make you unhappy, I think. I want you to have a life of your own, Sophie. There may come a time when—”

“Do not say it,” she said, sharply.

He sighed. “Stubborn woman,” he returned.

 

 

“How do you feel?”

His wife crawled lazily up his body, her hand sweeping across his sweaty chest as Quint tried to catch his breath. “Amazing,” he said, then opened his eyes. “Happy.”

The wedding had gone smoothly this morning. A small number of friends and family had gathered at his town house for the ceremony and a lavish wedding breakfast had followed. Sophie had been beautiful in her elaborate yet simple rose-colored gown, and he’d hardly been able to take his eyes off her all day. As soon as he’d managed it, he’d dispatched their guests, snatched his new bride, and rushed her up to their chambers.

Night had fallen, but neither of them had noticed. Sophie was now giving him her impish half-smile, her lips red and swollen from the previous moment’s activity. “Good. I plan to keep you happy.”

“Indeed, I am a very fortunate man.” He reached for her and took her mouth in a blazing, thorough kiss. “How do you feel?”

“Frustrated,” she said, rubbing against him. “Like I want my new husband to pleasure me again.”

“I’ll need a few moments, then.” Though likely not as long as usual. In addition to finally having Sophie back in his bed after nearly a month, she’d insisted on foregoing the condoms. He’d tried to argue, but she had been persuasive, reminding him that his father’s condition had most likely been the result of an accident. It was the first time he’d ever slid into a woman without one, and the overwhelming, blissful sensation meant he hadn’t lasted long. Twice.

She leaned in to nip his earlobe. “Tell me about my ring again,” she whispered against the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver.

Satisfaction flooded him, pulling his chest tight. She had loved the ring, as evidenced by the tears in her eyes when he’d presented her with the gold band of multicolored stones. He’d worried that she wouldn’t care for it, that it was too much for a practical woman like Sophie. Happily, he’d been proven wrong.

He lifted her hand, the one that now wore proof of their marriage. “It’s an acrostic ring. Each stone is the first letter of the word.” He pointed, starting at the far left. “Vermeil. Iris. Topaz. Amethyst. Then malachite. Emerald. Aquamarine.” He kissed her hand. “
Vita mea.
”

My life,
properly translated into Latin, but Romans had used it to mean
my everything
. Which was precisely how he felt about the woman lying next to him.

Sophie stared at it and bit her lip. “I do not think I shall ever tire of looking at it. Or hearing you explain it.”

“I’m glad.” He settled her into his side. “Before I forget, Julia brought a wedding gift for you and said I needed to give it to you tonight.”

Sophie’s head turned sharply. Quint knew Sophie’s relationship with her closest friend had been strained after all the recent revelations. His wife had tried not to let it show, but Quint knew her better than anyone. Not being on level ground with the duchess had upset her. “What is it?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. It’s in the drawer.”

Sophie scrambled to the small table by the bed and withdrew a box from the drawer. Sitting up, she untied the silk ribbon and lifted the lid. Quint peeked over to see a stack of letters inside. On top was a piece of paper, which Sophie picked up to read.

After a moment, she began laughing.

“Well?” he asked.

Sophie wiped the corners of her eyes. “It’s the advice Pearl Kelly gave Julia about men, from when she was trying to woo Colton as a courtesan. Ages ago, she promised to let me read Pearl’s notes when I finally set my sights on a man.”

“So why give them now, when you’ve already caught him?”

“She said just because I’ve married you doesn’t mean I cannot teach you a thing or two. Julia claims there are tricks in here even Colton had not heard about.”

“Good God,” Quint exclaimed. “Now I am curious.”

Sophie set the letters aside. “Not tonight, my dear husband. I plan to read those alone and surprise you whenever I can.”

He clasped her wrist and tugged. She landed on top of him. “With you, my darling wife, I would expect nothing less.”