The Silver Coin (32 page)

Restless energy exploded into raw hunger.

Royce turned the key in the lock with such force he wondered if he’d snapped it in two.

He hoped so. In that case, they could stay here, locked away together, forever.

He couldn’t stop staring at her. Staunchly, he fought to control the tidal wave of desire that surged through him, all his earlier tension converging, crashing through his loins.

“Royce?” Breanna took a step toward him, opened her arms.

Restraint vanished.

Royce scarcely remembered closing the distance between them. All he knew was dragging Breanna against him, seizing her mouth with more urgency than he knew he possessed. He tugged the pins from her hair, gathering handfuls of it as he continued kissing her. Her robe dropped to the floor, her nigh trail followed, and Royce savored the exquisite silkiness of her skin as he lifted her, placed her on the bed.

He felt her fingers on the buttons of his waistcoat, but he couldn’t wait. Stepping away, he tore off his clothes, coming down over her the instant he was naked.

Breanna let out a soft moan of pleasure, rubbing her breasts against his powerful, hair-roughened chest. She clung to him, understanding and sharing his urgency, wanting to savor every moment, to savor him, yet frantic to feel him inside her.

“Later,” he muttered, answering the contacting emotions waging inside her. “We’ll go slowly later. Now, I’ve got to have you.” He was already wedging her thighs apart.

She felt him tense, as if remembering how new this was to her, and her breath caught as his fingers found her, slid inside to assure him of her readiness.

She was more than ready for him.

Royce shuddered heavily as he encountered her satiny wetness, stroked her softly.

Breanna seized his wrist, pushed his hand away. “Later,” she whispered, echoing his sentiments.

Royce’s gaze darkened to near black. His hands slipped under her, gripping her bottom and angling her to receive him, his rigid shaft probing the entrance to her body.

He entered her in one slow, inexorable thrust, pushing as deep as he could go.

Breanna cried out,” arched to meet him, her entire body softening and opening to take him, to sheathe him inside hen She whimpered in protest when he left her, only to cry out again as he pushed forward, filled her even more fully than he had the first time.

“Does… it hurt?” Royce could barely speak.

She shook her head, her arms tightening around him. “Don’t stop.”

“Stop?” Royce was moving again, each lunge of his hips sending skyrockets of sensation shooting through her. “I’d die first.”

There were no more words then, nothing but the harsh rasps of their breath, the frantic kisses and caresses, the broken sounds of need, the grating of the bedsprings beneath them as their motions became more frenzied, wilder, more abandoned. Royce lost himself inside her, and Breanna tossed her head on the pillow, the pleasure too acute to bear, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she’d die of it

It peaked… and unraveled in a rush, throbbing spasms of completion radiating out from inside her, clenching again and again, contracting frantically around his engorged length.

Royce gave a hoarse shout, throwing back his head and gropingforthe headboard. His fingers closed around the bedposts, his knuckles turning white as his own climax slammed through him. His hips moved convulsively, pushing him into her, heightening her contractions as he met each one with a scalding burst of heat.

Breanna bit her lip to keep from screaming. She could feel him spurting into her, sensations so erotic they retriggered her spasms, sent them spiraling even higher than before.

When it was oven they collapsed, neither capable of moving. Breanna sank into the bed, reveling in Royce’s weight, the inadvertent shudders still racking his body, the final drops of his seed trickling into her.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing her tips to his shoulder.

He swallowed, an audible sound in the silence of the room. “You have no idea,” he answered hoarsely. “No idea.” Reflexively, his arms closed around her, as if that act alone could keep her safe. “I’m going to spend a lifetime showing you.” He raised his head, stared deeply into her eyes. “Beginning tonight.”

Breanna smiled, smoothed damp strands of hair off his forehead. “You’ve made an extraordinary start.”

He caught her hand, brought her palm to his lips. “That’s all it was—a start.” He rolled to one side, taking her with him. “I just want to hold you, feel you against me, for a minute.”

“And then?”

“Then, I’m going to make love to you the way you deserve to be made love to, the way I still haven’t mustered enough control to do.”

A sated sigh. “I’ve no complaints.”

His expression singed her. “You’ll have even fewer by morning.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Are you?” He bent to kiss her, cradling her head in his hands as he made love to her mouth. His lips moved slowly over hers, ending and tasting, nudging them apart for the intimate invasion of his tongue. He teased her with light, shivery strokes, awakening every surface of her mouth, his tongue gliding over hers in unhurried, lingering caresses, until her breath was coming faster and she was clinging to him, desperately trying to escalate the pace.

Clearly, the minute was up.

Still, Royce kept himself in check, although his body swelled inside hers, throbbed in a way that told her what this delay was costing him. But he didn’t give in, waiting until she was frantic before letting the fire of their kisses take over.

Breanna’s inner muscles softened and tightened around him, her body reflexively asking for more.

Maddeningly, Royce refused.

Rather than begin the rhythm she craved, he withdrew, separating their bodies and dragging his mouth away from hers.

“Royce…” She whimpered a protest, but he ignored it, his Ups burning an open-mouthed trail down her neck, her throat. He kissed her shoulders, the spot where her heart was razing, then down to the upper swell of her breasts. He savored each curve, moved lower, letting his warm breath tease her nipples into aching points, then grazing them with fleeting brushes of his lips and tongue.

Breanna’s nails were digging into his shoulders when Royce gave in. He slid one arm beneath her back, arched her up to his mouth and drew her taut nipple inside, tugging and releasing, tugging and releasing, then lashing across the hardened peak with his tongue. He didn’t stop until she was twisting on the sheets, chanting his name in harsh, broken gasps, and even then only to shift to her other breast, lavish it with the same attention.

Drowning in sensation, Breanna cried out, her in-sides clenching with every pull of Royce’s lips. The urgency was building again, that desperate need for release, and she caught his head between her hands, trying to tug him upward, to urge him over her. If he didn’t cover her, fill her, she’d die.

He let her ease his head from her breasts, but ignored her unspoken plea. Following his own compulsion, he caught her wrists, held them away.

His mouth continued its path, down her waist, across the hollow of her abdomen to her thighs.

She had no time to think, or even to wonder.

Releasing her wrists, he draped her legs over his shoulders, bent his head, and sank his tongue into her.

Raw, unimaginable sensation jolted through Breanna, and she shoved a fist into her mouth, knowing there was no other way to silence her scream. She’d never imagined anything like this in her life. She was dying… dying.

Royce intensified the torture, making love to her with his lips and tongue, tasting her, savoring her flavor. His fingers glided high up inside her, moving seductively to heighten her pleasure. She tried to wrench away, to keep herself from flying apart, but he was relentless, unbearably precise, finding where she needed him most and deepening his caresses.

“Royce …” It was a primitive sound, one she didn’t recognize, even though it came from her.

“Let it happen,” he commanded in a voice thick with desire. “God, your taste. Let it happen.”

It was already happening. Breanna couldn’t stop it. It was a dark roaring wave that boiled up inside her, crashed down over her, drowning her in its wake. She sobbed aloud, giving in to its power, her entire body wrenching beneath the spasms.

She felt Royce’s grip tighten as he heightened her pleasure, tasted every nuance of her climax. Then he was on her, in her, his own control shattering as he surged deep, spurting hotly into her, rasping her name with each pulsing burst of release.

This time recovery took longer. Breanna felt dazed, stunned by the magnitude of what had just happened, and by the intensity of her own body’s response.My God,was all she kept thinking. MyGod.

Eventually, Royce raised up on his elbows, his breathing still unsteady as he gazed down into her face. “You’re mine,” he said fervently. “And I love you.”

Tears shimmered in Breanna’s eyes. “I never imagined it could be so… so…” “Nor did I.”

His implicit meaning made what they’d shared that much more profound.

“I wish we could hold back the morning,” Breanna whispered, realizing how silly she sounded, how unlike herself, and yet unable to stem the words or stop herself from feeling them. She was no longer the woman she’d been a month ago. Now, she was a woman in love. And she was terrified that the faceless killer out there would shatter all the wonder she and Royce were only just discovering.

That… and worse.

Royce kissed her tenderly, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “The morning is hours away.” “But itwillcome. And when it does—” “When it does, we’ll face it,” Royce murmured. He rolled onto his back, taking Breanna with him and pressing her head to his chest He sifted his fingers through her hair, staring quietly at the ceiling. “He’s waiting for me to make some kind of move. And I will—as soon as I think of the best way to lure him out”

Breanna tensed, and she raised her head, her eyes wide with fear. “Lure him out? But, if you lure him out—”

“I’ll kill him,” Royce finished quietly. “He’s an expert marksman,” Breanna returned in a small, shaky voice. ‘‘Killing is his craft, his passion.”Ahard swallow. “If anything happens to you… Royce, I’d rather take one of his bullets. It would destroy me far less.”

“Stop it.” Royce drew her mouth down to his, kissing her with a ferocity that strove to burn away all the frightening possibilities that lay ahead. “Nothing is going to happen to you.Orto me. I won’t let it.”

Breanna nodded, willing her surge of fear to subside. “I know you won’t.” She caressed his jaw, watching the unyielding look in his eyes and saying a silent prayer.

Let this nightmare be over,she prayed.Let us all be spared. But if something has to go wrong, if someone has to die at that monster’s hands, don’t let it be Royce. Keep him safe. And please, please, protect Stacie and her babe. If it has to be someone, let it be me.

Royce studied the play of emotions on her face, and his features hardened, as if he knew just what she was thinking. “Come here,” he commanded, pulling her more fully atop him, draping her hair around them like a shimmering curtain. “You wanted to hold back the morning” he reminded her in a low, urgent tone, framing her face between his palms. “Well, so do I.” His hips lifted pushing his lower body upward until his rigid length surged fully inside her, possessed her. He withdrew, then repeated the motion, gritting his teeth and waiting only until her glazed eyes and soft moan told him he’d eclipsed her fears—for now. “And I know just the way to do that.”

“Lord Hobson. I like that idea.”

Philippe Girard chuckled, pouring two brandies and giving one to Hibbert before settling himself behind his desk. “Please. Have a seat.” He waited until Hibbert had lowered himself into one of the plush mahogany armchairs that decorated Girard’s elegant office. “Was this new identity your idea, or Chadwick’s?”

“It was Lord Royce’s.” Hibbert sipped at his drink, an expression of wry amusement on his face. “But I’ve taken to it quite nicely.”

“Evidemment.So I see.” Another chuckle as Girard set down his goblet, leaned forward to study Hibbert intently. “You’ve been to the three jewelers?”

“Yes. Right after I left here this morning.”

“Forgive me for not speaking with you at that time.” Guard’s smile vanished, and his dark brows drew together. “I had no idea you were here. My clerk is new,or he would have recognized your name. He certainly would have known Royce’s. Either way, he would have interrupted my meeting. It won’t happen again.”

Hibbert waved away the apology. “Your clerk was just doing his job. He was most efficient. He took down my name, gave me an appointment for half after two, and saw me to the door. That gave me a chance to do my preliminary investigating.”

“And you found the right jeweler?”

“In less than an hour. I followed my first instinct and went to Passeur on Avenue De Villiers. I was right.”

Guard’s lips twitched. “You’re becoming as arrogant as Chadwick. And as shrewd. Passeur does indeed craft elaborate bottles for the most discerning customers.” He rubbed a palm over his clean-shaven jaw. “Now what?”

“As I suspected, the bottle is exclusive to Passeur. It’s also quite expensive. Only five customers have purchased it—quite regularly, in fact. As luck would have it, all five live here in Paris.”

“You have all their names, of course.”

“Actually, they have mine—or rather Lord Hob-son’s.” Hibbert enjoyed the perplexed look that crossed Guard’s chiseled features. “Another of Lord Royce’s fine ideas—one that was acceptable to Monsieur Passeur. As anticipated, the jeweler is an ethical man who refused to divulge the names of his customers. Lord Royce’s plan spared him the necessity of doing so.”

“I’m intrigued. Please, go on”

Hibbert complied ‘Through Passeur, I sent off five urgent messages, one to each customer. I told them I was in a delicate predicament I’d spent one unforgettable night with a beautiful woman whose name I neglected to take, but whose scent I could never forget. I confessed that I’d traced the perfume in the hopes of renewing our acquaintance during my brief trip to Paris—no matter what the price. I closed by asking if they might know this woman and, if so, could I prevail upon them to urge her to contact me—immediately, as I’ll only be in Paris for a day or two. And I provided my name and the name of the inn where I’m staying.”