Through the Smoke (28 page)

Rachel could sense the earl’s presence. He was in her room, over near the window, where he’d been the night Wythe paid her a visit.

Pushing her heavy eyelids up, she searched that corner, trying to make out his general shape, but there was no moon tonight. She could see nothing.

“My lord?” she whispered.

“I’ve disturbed you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Now that she was awake, she could smell a hint of the tobacco he smoked in his pipe. That must’ve been what gave his presence away, because he’d made no sound. “Is something wrong?”

“No, go back to sleep.” He started to leave as if he regretted ever coming in, but she called him back.

“Wait.”

He turned. “Yes?”

“Something’s changed. I can tell. What is it?”

“I searched the ledgers, Rachel. There is nothing in there that will benefit me, just the tantalizing clue of that extra payment.”

“At least we have proof of that.” She hesitated. “Is that all?”

“No. I just wrote a letter to the Duke of Pembroke.”

“Making the commitment?”

“Yes.”

There was conviction in his voice she hadn’t heard there before.

She hated the thought of him being with anyone else, and yet she couldn’t fault him for taking the prudent course, the course she felt he should take. “When?”

“We haven’t set a date. The duke has demanded that I make other arrangements for you first.”

She squeezed her forehead. She’d known this was coming but… so soon? “I see.” She swallowed hard. “Will I be taking Geordie with me?”

“If you wish. I would never attempt to deprive you of your brother, of anything,” he added.

“How long do we have before—”

“Maybe a fortnight, just enough time to make inquiries.”

“You’re thinking I should go to London?”

“That would probably provide you with the most opportunity.”

She tried to imagine herself in a bustling metropolis and couldn’t. She’d heard and read about London but had never been there. She hadn’t been much farther than Newcastle. “I would rather Geordie stay here if… if at all possible. He’s only just settled in, and he likes it so much.” She forced a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “Where else will he find a mentor like Mr. Grude?”

“Then I will respect your wishes, of course. And I will take care of him—I promise you that.”

She allowed her smile to fade. “Thank you.”

He spoke again once he was standing in the threshold of the door between their rooms. “I wish.…”

“Yes?”

“I wish things could be different, Rachel.”

It wasn’t easy to withstand the ache in her chest. She would never meet anyone else like him—and would measure every man against him. “That’s enough for me.”

“If only wishing were enough for me,” he said and left.

Rachel lay awake, listening to the noises she heard next door. The floor creaked. Something clanged as if the earl had thrown it. After an hour or so everything went quiet, but at that point Rachel couldn’t remain in bed any longer. They had a fortnight, maybe three weeks, at most. She had to be with him while she could.

Truman had just gone to bed when he heard the door open. He knew it was Rachel. The sound hadn’t come from the hall. He waited, wondering what she would do. Part of him hoped she’d change her mind and return to her own bed without engaging him—because if she’d come for the reason he guessed, he wouldn’t be able to refuse her.

“My lord?”

“Rachel…” He told himself to send her back to her room while he could think straight, but the only thing he got out was her name.

“The last time we were together, I… I wasn’t as aware of what was happening as I wish I would’ve been.”

He could hardly hear above the racket of his heart. “You realize what you’re saying.”

“You can’t offer me anything. I accept that. I just… I don’t want that single memory to be the only one I take with me.”

“If only I had the strength to make myself tell you to leave. This isn’t fair to you.”

“There’s no way to preserve my honor when the rest of the world thinks we’re lovers already.”

“
You
know better. That’s what counts.”

“I’m not sure it does, not if I’m spreading my legs for you every night in my dreams,” she said and her nightdress hit the floor with a soft
poof
.

Chapter 16

Truman knew he was only making their eventual parting more painful, but he couldn’t deny himself this one night. Not when she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Not when she was standing at his bedside already naked.

“I can barely breathe,” she murmured as he reached for her.

He groaned as her bare skin came into contact with his. “I’m almost afraid to believe this is real,” he responded and dipped his head to kiss her.

Her lips were warm and pliable. He could tell, as he had before, that she had little experience with men. There was nothing practiced or calculated about her actions. But he was pretty sure that was what he loved most: her emotional honesty, her lack of artifice. Katherine had behaved as if she were putting on a performance and expected him to be grateful for the sacrifice and effort it required. She’d never really seemed to
feel
anything.

Rachel was just the opposite.

“You taste like heaven,” he told her. “How I have longed to be with you like this, to feel welcome to touch you, to taste you.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair. She seemed eager to explore him, even the parts he wouldn’t expect her to be particularly interested in at the moment.

“I’ve heard it said that a pious woman, a good woman, is not supposed to enjoy what goes on between a man and a woman,” she said, kissing his brow, his cheeks, anything she could reach.

He was too wrapped up to do much talking, but this succeeded in gaining his attention. “Who told you that?” he murmured against her lips when they found his mouth.

“My mother.”

That didn’t say much about her father, but he didn’t point it out. “Do you believe it?”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her cheek against his, driving him mad with the satiny feel of her skin and clean, sweet smell of her. “I don’t know. But if it is true, I’m more like Elspeth’s girls than I once thought.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her words, at her innocent attempts to become familiar with his body as her hands moved over his chest before circling around to his back.

“You like this?” He ran a hand down over her breast, cupping it in his palm.

Her tongue quickly wet her lips. “Too much. More than I should. I’m lost,” she finished simply.

With a laugh he buried his face in her neck. “No more lost than I am, dear Rachel. You have me so excited I fear I will embarrass myself.”

She caught his face between her hands. “How?”

He laughed again. “I hope you don’t have to find out, but just touching you here”—his finger touched the tip of one nipple—“and here”—his other hand slid down her stomach toward her core, where he wanted to touch her most—“makes me tremble with need.”

Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. “Your heart is racing, my lord. Like mine.”

“Probably faster,” he conceded, meeting her tongue with his own as he took her mouth the way he intended to take her body.

She gasped as his fingers finally found the most sensitive part of her. “The compulsion to feel you inside me is”—she had to take a breath—“overwhelming.”

Kissing her even deeper, he slid a finger into the warmth that awaited him. When she gasped and arched as if she’d take more, take all of him, he feared he’d lose control.

“Ah, Rachel, you have created such desperate urgency.” He felt like a schoolboy, not a man who’d been married and even fathered a child.

She held his hand in place as if she feared he might remove it. “I love you,” she said. “I think I have loved you since you walked into my shop that day.”

Those words sucked the air out of him, made him realize that he couldn’t take what he was about to take. He had no right. She was giving
everything—her body, her heart—and he was sending her away within a fortnight.

“Dear God,” he muttered and dropped onto the mattress beside her.

“What is it?” She sounded confused. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted his head so he could see her in what was left of the firelight. “I can’t go on. There is no honor in this. What if you were to get pregnant?”

“I don’t know. We-we would each do our part? You would pay for the child. And-and I would raise him?” She slid her small hand around his erection, causing every muscle to tighten in need.

He stopped her before she drove him beyond his ability to resist. “
Where?
I could never let you go to London knowing you were carrying my child. Yet I couldn’t expect my wife to tolerate having you here, knowing that I will probably never want her as I want you.”

She froze for several seconds, then pulled out of his grasp. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” Yanking the bedsheet up to hide her nudity, she leaned up, probably to search for her nightdress. But he tugged that thin covering back down. “No, let me look at you,” he said. “Let me memorize every detail.”

He’d said he was only going to look, but he couldn’t help touching her too. As he ran his hands over her soft skin, her eyes grew heavy lidded, her lips parted and her nipples grew taut.

Unwilling to leave her so aroused, he nudged her knees apart and began to kiss every place that he’d touched.

“My lord, what are you doing?” She was obviously shocked, but he’d expected that reaction. He heard her catch her breath as he moved lower, and once he found what he was looking for, she anchored her hands in his hair as if she could scarcely let go. “Oh my!”

“There are ways to… minimize the risk,” he explained, closing his eyes and nuzzling her as he took in the musky scent.

“But… it’s unnatural, is it not?” she whispered. “Surely I’ll go to hell.”

“After what you’ve been through, I doubt a benevolent God could begrudge you this small pleasure,” he said and hooked his arms beneath her knees so that she wouldn’t wiggle away before he could show her what she’d been missing.

Rachel had never felt more wanton. Not only was she moaning and writhing, thanks to the earl’s ministrations, she couldn’t help crying out as he brought her to the very pinnacle of pleasure. But that moment was unlike anything she had ever known! And even though, in some dark recess of her mind, she feared she might be embarrassed by her behavior later, he seemed to enjoy her lack of control. He seemed to encourage it, to
thrive
on it.

“Again,” he breathed, almost before the spasms could subside, and she felt the warmth of his mouth and the pressure of that suction drawing the pleasure back, carrying her higher. This time he seemed more possessive than before. He claimed her as if he had every right, as if she belonged to him, and sent her spiraling right back into ecstasy. But as good as it was, she craved more than what he was giving her, wanted him to join with her.

Drowning in both need and sensation, she gasped his name and that seemed to snap his restraint. With a growl, he covered her as if he would have her, as if he could no longer deny himself,
whatever
the cost. Sliding his hands beneath her again, he tilted her hips up to receive him—was only a fraction of an inch away from pushing inside her—when he cursed and buried his face in her neck instead.