by Shana Galen
“The Sunnybrooke Home for Boys.”
“Will he take her in?” Daphne asked. “She’s a...female.”
“He’ll take her. Ask around about it, Harley. Then come and find me.”
“I’ll think about it. Until tomorrow, gov!”
The lamp went out and Daphne and Colin were cast into darkness. Colin figured they were probably alone too.
He led Daphne out of the alley and down the street where there were more pedestrians and he might be able to hail a hackney.
“I certainly think you overpaid,” Daphne said.
Colin laughed. “First you want me to give out money, now I overpaid.
“Two shillings to deliver a message?” She shook her head. “It’s highway robbery.”
“It’s worth it if the captain meets us tomorrow.”
“I think we should eat at The Clipper again. The food was delicious. I could eat another bowl. All of this searching is exhausting. I don’t think it’s even eight o’clock, and I’m ready for bed.”
Colin was ready for bed too, and if he had his way, neither would be sleeping any time soon.
Fifteen
Daphne lay back in the bath Brown had drawn for her and closed her eyes. When her maid had told her Mr. FitzRoy ordered a bathing tub for their room, she had expected something small where she sat with her knees to her chin. But this was luxurious. Her knees were still bent, but she had enough room to lie back and rest her head on the lip of the copper tub. She’d washed as soon as she’d submerged in the water, and now she just wanted to soak. It seemed quite decadent, and with the tub so close to the fire, she was warm and cozy and growing sleepy.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” a male voice said from behind her.
Daphne turned her head. Brown slipped out the door just as Colin entered. She was a bit startled to see him. She’d never been naked with a man in the room before, but if she was being honest, she would admit she had been hoping he would come to their bed chamber sooner rather than later. If her time with him was to be limited, she had better make the most of it. No, he didn’t love her, but she knew one way to elicit an emotional response from him. She just had to be brave enough to follow through with it.
She gave him a lazy smile that belied the pounding of her heart. “What else should I do with no one and nothing to entertain me?”
He moved closer, his eyes staying on her face. He certainly had self-control. “I might have some entertainment in mind,” he said.
Now her belly fluttered. He wanted to take her to bed. Finally, she would have the wedding night she should have had all those years ago. She gripped the sides of the tub with her hands, warning herself not to hope for too much. He would leave again, and she couldn’t allow her heart to become too attached. It wouldn’t survive another break from Colin FitzRoy’s disinterest.
But he did not look disinterested now.
“I should dry off.” She pushed herself up, standing in the tub. “Hand me my towel, will you?”
She saw the instant he lost his self-control. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then his gaze swept down and over her body. She had the urge to cover herself, but she stood with her hands at her sides, letting him look. She wasn’t particularly modest, but the way he looked at her made her feel hot and prickly all over.
“I’m dripping wet,” she said.
“I can see that,” he murmured.
“Hand me my towel.”
He blinked at her as though he didn’t understand the language she spoke.
She pointed to the chair near him where her towel had been draped. “My towel.”
“Oh.” He lifted it and moved toward her. Finally, his gaze rose back to her face.
“Have you never seen a naked woman before?” she asked.
“Not like you.”
The statement pleased her inordinately. She lifted the towel to her wet hair and wrung the water out. Taking her time, she lowered the towel to dry her body. Finally, she offered Colin her hand and stepped out of the tub. Giving him a view of her backside, she walked to her robe, which was near the fire in the hearth. “I like the tub you purchased,” she said.
“So do I.”
She pulled the robe on, cinched it, then sat in the chair near the fire so her hair could dry. Her brush had been placed on the small table near the fire and she lifted it and ran it through her hair. “Do you think that little girl—Harley—will actually give Captain Gladwell our message?”
He blinked as though taking a moment to comprehend her. “Yes. If nothing else, she’ll want to warn him someone is looking for him. I doubt we’ll see her again. Children like her have often been in and out of orphanages and prefer their freedom.”
Daphne glanced at him over her shoulder, surprised he had moved closer and was standing beside the chair. She moved to the floor to be nearer to the fire as the room was drafty. The carpet was soft, and she tucked her legs under her as she sank into it. “Can’t we make her go? It isn’t safe for a child out on the street.”
“She’ll only run away.” He knelt behind her. “Let me help with that.” He held out a hand for her brush, and when she offered it to him, he ran it through her hair. Somehow it felt different when he brushed her hair. It felt...erotic.
“It was my plan to seduce you tonight,” she murmured.
“We can seduce each other.”
She shook her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re always in control. I want you to lose control.” She didn’t say she wanted to arouse his passions, his emotions, but that was part of it. Somehow she knew if he was ever to love her, first she had to find a way to break through the barrier he’d put between them. Perhaps if he cared for her, she could risk trusting him with her heart again.
“I’m a soldier. I’ve been trained to remain calm and controlled.”
She turned to face him, placing her hands lightly on his knees. “There’s no battle here, Colin.” Her hands slid upward, and he dropped the brush and caught her wrists before she could touch him where she wanted.
“Slow down.”
“Why? I’ve been waiting seven years. That’s slow enough.”
“We have all night.” His voice was raspy and his eyes dark.
“Then indulge my curiosity,” she said. He narrowed his eyes. “Take off your clothes.” It was a dare, pure and simple.
He shook his head. She’d known he would make some sort of protest. He so clearly did not want to be vulnerable with her. He didn’t want to be exposed. But she wouldn’t take him any other way. Not anymore. This was her only chance. Their only chance.
“I took my clothes off. Your turn.”
“You were in the bath.”
She glanced at the tub. “The water is still warm. I don’t mind waiting.” When he still hesitated, she said, “At least take off your coat.”
Finally, he didn’t argue. He removed the coat and laid it over the chair, sitting cross-legged before her. “Come here,” he said, indicating his lap.
“First your waistcoat. I don’t want to get it wet.”
He scowled but unfastened it and removed it. It too was folded and placed on the chair.
“Your valet must love you.”
“He’s trained me well. Come here.”
She cocked her head. “What about your cravat?”
“What about it?”
It was proving more difficult to make him drop his mask than she had anticipated, but she would not give up yet.
“Let’s make a deal,” she said. “I untie my robe.” She indicated the knot at her waist. You untie your cravat.”
His gaze dipped to that knot and then slid to her breasts. Her robe, pink silk, did little to hide her body, but she thought her offer might just tempt him.
“Fine.” He reached for the cravat and she reached for the robe’s knot. He untied his neckcloth, and she slowly pulled the knot of her robe. The material of his neckcloth fell in a tumble down the front of his shirt just as she released the tie of
her robe. The garment gaped but didn’t fall open.
“Now, come here,” he said, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. Holding the sides of the robe together, Daphne scooted closer. “Closer,” he said.
Her knees were touching his crossed legs. “I can’t come any closer.”
“Yes, you can.” He hauled her up and onto his legs so that her own legs straddled him. Her robe fell open, and she gasped at how exposed she was. He pulled her even closer, the heat of his hard erection pressing against her sex.
“I want to touch you,” he said, nuzzling her neck with his mouth.
“Where?” she teased. “Here?” She pointed to her collarbone. He kissed her there. “Or here?” She moved the fabric of her robe aside to reveal her shoulder. It fell open so her breast, with its hard, pink nipple, was also visible. Her hand trailed down to cup her flesh. “Or here?”
His hands landed on her waist, the heat of him seemingly warmer than the fire at their backs. He slid up her ribs to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her hard buds. She moaned quietly, arching back when he lowered his mouth to suckle her.
“I should have known your nipples would be pink. Pink like your—”
She pulled his mouth back to her flesh, writhing as he teased and laved. Then her own hands went to work, unfastening the buttons of his shirt and dipping to the waist of his trousers to pull the tails out. When her own hands touched the bare skin under his shirt, he jerked.
“You don’t like that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
She pushed the fabric higher. “I want to see you. I want to press my body against yours.”
“Take it off,” he said, apparently deciding not to argue. He unfastened his cuffs and she slid the shirt up and over his head.
Her breath caught in her throat. He was magnificent. His chest was broad and strong with a light dusting of dark hair. She touched one of his nipples, a light brown color, and he let out a breath. She bent to kiss his collarbone, his shoulder, then trailed her tongue to his nipple and sucked it.
“Daphne.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly.
She looked up at him. “You don’t like it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps we should experiment more so you can give more definitive answers.” Her hands slid down to his taut belly, but he grasped her wrists when she reached his waistband.
“Too fast?” she asked. “Or you don’t know if you like that?”
“I know one thing I like.” His hands landed on her thighs, and he slid upward, making light trails toward her core.
“I like this too,” she murmured, pressing her breasts to his bare chest. “I want you to touch me.” His hand brushed over her sex. “There.”
She moved against his hand, her breasts tingling from the friction of skin on skin. His finger dipped inside her, and she clenched around it, bucked her hips. “It hurt the first time you were inside me,” she said. “Will it hurt this time?”
“I don’t think so. I know something about how to make you ready now.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Her hand slid down his chest again and this time he didn’t stop her at his belly. She found the fall of his trousers, unfastened them, and felt the hard heat of him spring forward. Her fingers slid over him, stroking him as he stroked that bud that gave her so much pleasure.
“Take me in your hand,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “Wrap your fingers around me.” She obeyed, and when he moved, she understood what to do. She slid her hand up and down the length of him. He was wide and thick and so hard.
“Let me taste you,” she said.
His eyes closed, and when he opened them they were so vivid green she couldn’t look away.
“Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“That’s not something wives do.”
“Some do. Where do you think I heard about it?”
“We had better talk later about your friends,” he said then groaned as she moved her hand up and down his length again. “I don’t have the control for you to do that tonight. Next time.”
“What now then?” she asked.
“Lie down.” He took her robe, which had pooled behind her, and spread it on the carpet. She moved to lie on it, and he stood, removing his boots, stockings, and finally his trousers. She studied his body as raptly as he’d studied hers. She’d seen sculptures and paintings in museums, but they couldn’t convey how warm he was or his clean, woodsy scent or even the way his muscles moved when he turned to lay his trousers on the chair. That gave her a lovely view of his buttocks, which were paler than the rest of him but firm and round.
He turned back to her, and she spread her legs. She knew she was probably shocking him with her less-than-wifely ways, but she wasn’t a virgin and she still felt too much like one. She wanted this. She wanted him inside her, making her feel the way he had the last few days.
She was rewarded for her boldness when his eyes lost their controlled coolness and heated. His hands clenched at his sides, and he licked his lips. He wanted her. Desire was an emotion, and she would take it.
“What do you call that? A cock?”
Surprise made his mouth open and close and then his cheeks turned pink. “More words your friends taught you?”
“You taught me, wicked man. Have you forgotten already?”
“I shouldn’t have told you that word.”
“Then I couldn’t say this—I want your cock inside me.”
He closed his eyes. “God, Daphne. You’re killing me.”
“Come here then.” She opened her arms and he went to her, kissing her mouth and lowering his body until it pressed against hers in all the best places. Her hands scraped down his back until she cupped his backside and squeezed.
He laughed. “You’re shameless.”
“I haven’t even begun.”
“Neither have I.” His mouth dipped to her neck and then his tongue trailed down her sternum until he circled that place between her breasts. His hands fondled her as his mouth continued its path. Somehow he tickled her belly while making her writhe in anticipation at the same time. His hand slid to her hips and then her thighs, opening her legs wider. “Still want my cock?”
“Yes, but first your mouth.” He paused at her sex, looked at her, breathed warm air over her. She moaned and rocked toward him. “Colin, please.”
He bent forward and touched his tongue to her entrance then dipped inside. She groaned and clenched, knowing she was too loud and not caring. When he slid his tongue up toward that most sensitive place, her breath increased until she was panting. Her fingers dug in the carpet, looking for purchase, until finally—thank God finally—he flicked his tongue over her. She let out a small scream and lifted her hips. He paused, looked at her.
“More,” she begged. She would have been humiliated if this had been anyone else, and if she couldn’t see how much he liked her response. He was breathing almost as fast as she was. His flushed face and his bright eyes just made her desire hotter. She loved him. She didn’t want to love him, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop. Even after all the years and all the pain and loneliness, it was Colin she wanted.
It was Colin she had always wanted.
“More,” he agreed and flicked that tiny bud again.
“Oh, yes.”
His tongue was driving her mad, the way he laved and scraped and left her wanting more. Finally, when she was all but out of breath and whispering please, please, please he gave her what she wanted. Stars seemed to dance in front of her eyes as pleasure so sharp and bright washed over her. She lifted her hips, giving herself to it. Colin took hold of her hips, held her steady, and entered her.
“Oh, yes!” she cried. This. This was what she had wanted. He filled her, and she couldn’t get enough of him. She couldn’t stop moving, pressing up against him to take more of him. And when he slid deeper inside her, rocked against her, she made incoherent sounds of pleasure. She never wanted this to en
d. The pleasure only deepened and intensified as he moved within her. And every time he buried himself deep, pressing against that tender bud, she saw stars all over again.
Her legs wrapped tight around him, taking him deeper. It was slightly uncomfortable but satisfying too.
And then she looked up and into his face. His eyes were so green she could hardly believe they were real. He met her gaze with an intensity she recognized in herself. She knew the pleasure he felt because she felt it too. She locked eyes with him, and he didn’t look away. Daphne’s heart pounded with the dual emotions of fear and elation she felt in that moment. She’d never been so vulnerable. She’d never been so close to Colin—to anyone. Although feelings and emotions raged inside her, she latched onto his face and his eyes. He had always been a calming presence in her life. Her family and her life was a wild whirlwind, but when Colin was there, she felt suddenly at peace. Her father’s bellowing, her brothers’ roughhousing, the threat of Battersea—it all faded when Colin looked at her.
Everything in the room faded for her now. She still felt the silk robe underneath her back, the heat of the fire, the friction of his body against hers, but it was as though the person who felt those things was someone else, and the true person was the one she could see reflected in his eyes.
“Daphne,” he said, his voice sounding pained. She’d never heard him sound like that.
“Yes,” she answered, encouraging, moving with him, wanting him to find his peak. Then something in his eyes changed. The wall there dropped away, and there was naked need in his expression. He needed to climax, yes, but there was more. He needed her. He needed to be loved, and he was so frightened to admit that.
Almost as soon as she saw it, it was gone. He was closed off from her again. “Colin.” She put her hands on the side of his face, wanting that intimacy back. Wanting to reassure him that he was safe with her. But he kissed her, breaking eye contact, and then moving within her in such a way so that all rational thought was lost. He cried out when he climaxed, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. And then he collapsed, lying his head on her bare shoulder, and catching his breath.
