He gave her a wry grin, rubbing at his watering eye. “I’ll live to see another day. At least, I think I will.”
He was teasing her, but she frowned.
And as their gazes clashed and held, a flash of memory seemed to crash through his skull. The memory of a fist crashing into his eye, of it swelling shut. He knew what the blow felt like. Recalled not being able to see from the eye until the swelling had subsided.
She must have felt him tense beneath her, or read the expression on his face, because her hand was on his jaw, stroking as if to soothe. “What is the matter?”
He blinked, clearing the tears from his eye, and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “Nothing. I think I may have remembered something…someone hitting me in the eye.”
“Who was it? Do you remember a face?” she asked, still gently stroking his jaw.
He searched the abyss of his mind for more details, but there were none to be reclaimed. “That is all I can recall, the force of the blow, my eye swelling shut. It was the same eye. Your bonnet reminded me.”
“It is a handsome bonnet but I hardly expected it to have such power,” she teased. “This is wonderful news, however. If some details return to you, surely others will follow.”
“I hope so.” He settled a hand on her waist and tapped on the brim of her bonnet with the other. The weight of her in his lap was delicious. “Do you think you might remove this until we reach the apothecary? I’d prefer to keep my eye.”
She smiled, untied the ribbon beneath her chin, and then plucked the millinery from her head. “I would not wish to cause you harm. Not ever.”
There was a sadness in her voice today, and he couldn’t help but to suspect something was amiss. “No one discovered my visit to you, did they?”
By no one, he meant her brother Jasper in particular, who seemed to be the leader of the family. He had seen some of the other Sutton brothers in passing, and at least one sister—Pen. But Caro had told him there were seven siblings in all. There had been an eighth once, but she spoke of that brother with heartache, always referencing the past. He believed that brother was dead, but he hadn’t wished to upset her by asking too many questions.
She shook her head, and this time, his eye was blessedly spared another altercation with her hat. “No. But we must not make a habit of such visits.”
Pity, that. He wanted to spend every night in her chamber. All night long. To make her his wife and spend the rest of his life worshiping her as she deserved.
“I will try to stay away, but it isn’t easy, Caro.” His other hand settled on her waist at just the right moment, for the carriage hit a rut and swayed violently.
She clutched his shoulders, eyes going wide, clinging to him. “Bloody ballocks, that was a bump.”
The moment the words left her lips, she went scarlet.
“So the angel has a sinner’s tongue,” he quipped, smiling as he drew her nearer.
Would it be too much to ask for another splendidly timed run over the old hasty pudding that resulted in her wrapping her arms around his neck?
“I’ve spent most of my life in a gaming hell,” she said, still flushing. “I suppose it shows.”
“I don’t know where the devil I spent most of my life, but I do know where I want to spend what remains of it.”
“Where?” she breathed.
“With you, Caro.” He was sure he should not be making a declaration now, that it was too soon, that he didn’t know enough about the man he had been before he had awoken in The Sinner’s Palace. That everything could change if his memory returned. But the way he felt for her…it was strong and deep and true. “I’ve fallen in love with you, and I want to make you my wife.”
The moment he said the words, he realized how foolish they sounded. He did not even have a name. Nor a ha’penny. What could a nameless man without a past offer to her?
“You’ve fallen in love with me,” she repeated, her countenance dazed.
“Aye.” He caressed her cheek. “I know I’ve nothing to my name. Hell, I don’t even know my name. But I know my heart, Caro. I love you. I’ll never feel for another what I feel for you.”
Her eyes were glistening, the grays becoming more pronounced. “But you scarcely know me.”
“I know enough of you to know you’ve the heart of an angel. You’re kind and good, Caro Sutton.”
“No,” she said softly, sadly. “I’m not.”
Of course she was, though if it was her humility prodding her response or her lack of desire to marry him, he could not be sure. He had thought she felt the same connection. She had certainly kissed him as if she had, and the budding tenderness between them could not be denied. However, it was possible he had spoken too soon. Or that she simply had no wish to wed a man with no memory.
Hell. How could he marry without a name? And there remained the troubling issue of whether or not he was free to wed her.
He stowed the troubling questions for now.
“If you do not feel the same, tell me.” He searched her gaze, trying to make sense of the muddle he’d made with his loose tongue and overflowing emotions. Everything was new to him; he was a new person, and finding his footing was akin to walking on an icy lake.
“Of course I feel the same.” She pressed her lips together, and a lone tear spilled down her cheek. “You must know I do. I love you, and it would be my honor to be your wife. But there is the matter of who you are, which must be addressed, and there is much you do not know about me, and…oh, what if your memories return and you find you do not like me at all?”
“That would never happen,” he reassured her, for he knew it instinctively.
Nothing could alter the depths of emotion he felt for the woman in his arms.
“But what if it does?” she persisted, looking forlorn.
A second tear trailed down her cheek to join the first. He kissed it away, catching the saltiness of her sorrow on his lips. “It won’t, Caro. I vow it. I may not remember who I am, but I would never forget the way I feel for you. From the moment I woke and saw you, the bond between us has been undeniable, and it has only grown stronger. I know I have nothing to provide you now, but I am determined to make myself a worthy man for you. Only promise me you will give me the chance.”
“I promise.”
She cradled his face with a tender touch, and she kissed him. Hesitantly at first, and then with growing ardor. He groaned and took control, his lips moving against hers, the need to taste and claim her rising along with his cockstand. He teased the seam of her lips, then swept inside.
Sweet as honey.
So responsive.
Longing ripped through him as he deepened the kiss, and she shifted on his lap until he was nestled against the tempting swell of her rump. Her tongue teased his. For an unknown span of time, they kissed each other breathless. He forgot where they were, that any moment, they would arrive at their destination.
And then, the carriage rocked to a halt.
She broke the kiss, staring at him, her mouth swollen. “We are here.”
“Aye.” Reluctantly, he retrieved her bonnet and settled it atop her head. “We are.”
He was greedy, and he wanted more of her, but he knew that he must be happy with what he had gotten and bide his time for more.
If only he could remember who the bloody hell he was.
Chapter 8
For the second time that day, Caro found herself being tugged into a masculine lap. However, this time, it was not a place where she wanted to be, because the man into whose lap she had landed was not Gavin Winter. Instead, it was Viscount Derby, a lord who had been ogling her with a lascivious stare for the entirety of her performance that evening. Whereas being held so close by Gavin had felt at once comforting, familiar, and exciting, Lord Derby’s arms tightening around her waist only caused alarm to rise within her.
“My lord,” she said, attempting to pry his hands from her, “you must let me go. My songs for the evening are finished.”
“I’ll make you sing a different ditty altogether,” the lord growled in her ear, before pressing a wet kiss to her throat.
He smelled of spirits and tobacco and…cheese.
Detestable creature.
She tugged at his hands some more, but that only seemed to heighten his enjoyment. “Lord Derby, please release me.”
“You want my cock,” he proclaimed in a low voice. “You’ve been begging for it all evening, and I’m going to give it to you, my pretty little whore.”
Caro cast a frantic glance around the private room where she had been singing this evening, but neither Jasper nor any of her other brothers was anywhere to be found. Timothy was acting as guard, but a conflict between two patrons had distracted him. Randall was likely continuing to guard Gavin. Which meant she was alone. The other patrons in the room were drinking and playing at cards, and the lords at Derby’s table were looking on with ill-disguised amusement.
“If your cock gets anywhere near me, I’ll cut it off,” she warned as his hand wandered to cup her breast through her stays.
“Looks as if Madame Teulet does not want to play slap and tickle with you, Derby,” observed one of the others in a mild tone that suggested this was by no means the first time Lord Derby had accosted a female in their presence.
She wondered if the lord had ever done so to Pen. And if so, why had Pen never said a word about such egregious behavior? The viscount had not been in the private room for any of her performances thus far, so Caro had no comparison. In her experience, some men turned into leering, revolting monsters when they were soused. Mayhap Derby was one of those wretches.
“She’ll change her mind soon enough,” Derby announced to his friend. In her ear, he spoke again, the words directed at Caro alone. “How much coin to have you for the night, love?”
“You cannot have me.” She struggled, managing to wrest an arm free of his cloying grasp, and then slapped the hand that was squeezing her breast. “You cannot have me tonight, and you cannot have me ever. I am not for sale, my lord. If you are seeking entertainment, one of the other ladies here will be happy to aid you.”
The hell had ladybirds aplenty. Caro was simply not one of them.
“I’ve had them all,” Derby said, shifting in his seat so that the tumescence in his trousers rubbed against her. “I want you now. I love that husky, sweet voice of yours. I want to hear it calling my name.”
She was going to be ill. Caro managed to land an elbow in the viscount’s ribs, and she knew a moment of satisfaction as the breath hissed from his lungs and he howled with pain. Sooner or later, someone would appear in the room and come to her aid. But she was not about to be mauled by this dunderhead in the meantime.
“Saucy bitch,” he cursed with a low grunt. “I’ll teach you to harm your betters.”
With that warning, he caught a handful of her blonde wig and tugged viciously.
The pins holding it in place tore at her hair with unmerciful vengeance, bringing tears to her eyes. “Release me, you despicable cur.”
“I’ll release you when I’m ready, Madame.” He tugged at her wig again, and this time pulled it free. He held it aloft. “What the devil?”
Caro felt strangely naked, as if she had been stripped bare before them.
The wig was part of her costume. When she wore it, she was not Caro but Madame Teulet. And now, this blighter had stripped even that dignity from her.
“Give me that, you scoundrel.” She had forgotten long ago that she was never to insult their patrons. The viscount was a vile creature, and she would call upon Jasper to forbid him from returning.
Caro reached for the wig but froze when a deep, familiar voice laden with menace rose behind them.
“If I were you, I would do as the lady says. I would also let her go, as she plainly has no wish to be accosted by a booby in his altitudes like you.”
She turned with a combination of relief and trepidation to find Gavin towering over them. He looked every bit as ferocious as the sting in his voice. When he was angry, he was almost frightening. She could see the warrior in him, fierce and determined.
A myriad of questions hit her startled mind. How had he found her? Did he not realize he wasn’t meant to be wandering about the public halls and rooms of the hell? What if someone recognized him?
His appearance must have shocked Derby as well, for the viscount released his hold on Caro enough that she could free herself. She shot to her feet and rushed to his side. He glanced down at her, his features as hard as if they had been hewn from granite.
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded.
“No,” she said, not wishing for further trouble.
Gavin looked as if he were about to commit murder.
“Who the hell are you?” Derby demanded, still seated, though red-faced now, a slight slur to his words that proved just how much drink he had consumed that evening.
“Damned if I know,” Gavin said grimly. “But what I do know is that a cove can’t go about accosting the ladies in this fine establishment. If you can’t follow the rules, you’re going to have to go.”
“Is that so?” the viscount asked, looking amused.
“Aye.” Gavin glared at him, flexing his fingers as if he longed to form a fist. “It is. Amuse yourself with ladies who are interested from this moment on. Though I bloody well doubt you’ll find any.”
With that parting shot, Gavin slid a comforting arm around Caro’s waist and led her from the room. When they had reached the safety of the private halls, he turned to her, frowning, his gaze searching and concerned. “Are you certain that bastard didn’t hurt you?”
She shivered, grateful that Gavin had arrived when he had, and thankful too that he had not punched the lord, though she had been certain his instinct had called for it. “I am certain. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Where is your cursed brother?” he demanded. “Where are any of them? Or the bloody guards for that matter? There should have been no need for a rescue, Caro.”
“All the same, I am glad you were there.” It was her turn to frown as she thought of the potential danger he had brought upon himself. Surely some of the gentlemen in The Sinner’s Palace tonight had watched the famed Gavin Winter in a prizefight. “But you should not have gone into the public rooms. You may have placed yourself in jeopardy by doing so.”
“And I would do it again in a moment if it meant keeping you out of the clutches of a bastard like that.” He shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. “When I saw him touching you and how you struggled to escape him and heard what he was saying to his cronies…hell, Caro. I wanted to acquaint him with my fists. I was filled with rage and violence. I remember how it felt to pummel someone. To square off with an opponent. I knew if I would have hit him, I wouldn’t have stopped.”
His reaction made sense. He had been a prizefighter. Some parts of him remained, hiding. It was only a matter of time until all his memories returned to him, she had no doubt.
Fear curled around her heart, joining the ever-present guilt. This morning in the haven of the carriage, when she had been wrapped in his strength and he had been gazing at her with so much raw, unfettered love, she had allowed herself to believe there could be a future for the two of them. That she could become his wife as he had asked. But the truth remained, painful and dangerous, burning like a hot coal in the pit of her belly.
This situation was untenable. She was going to have to break her promise to Jasper. Gavin had already been seen in the public rooms of The Sinner’s Palace, potentially inviting great peril to himself. If word spread, keeping his presence a secret would no longer be necessary. Moreover, they owed him the truth.
“Say something, Caro,” Gavin implored, shaking her from the tumult of her thoughts.
“Thank you. I am glad you did not hit him. He is a lord, and it would not have gone well for you if you had done that.”
“He is a fucking swine, is what ’e is.”
The
vehemence in Gavin’s voice, the epithet, and the dropped h told her just how distraught he was. It also told her that more of him was returning. Her time with him was limited. So terribly, horribly limited.
What will happen if he remembers everything tonight? Tomorrow?
She tried to shake the questions from her mind, but they remained, probing, mocking.
I will lose him. I will lose him, but he will regain himself.
“You must not worry yourself over it,” she said, reaching for his fists, taking them in her hands. “Nothing happened.”
“But it bloody well could have. Where was everyone who’s meant to be protecting you, damn it?” Fury still emanated from him, but he did not pull away from her touch, and gradually, his hands relaxed, his fingers lacing through hers.
“Why were you in the private room?” she asked, needing to distract him as much as she needed to distract herself. “You never said.”
Color swept over his high cheekbones, and she realized it was the first time she had ever witnessed him flush. “I wanted to hear you sing, but I was too late. All I saw was that whoreson molesting you.”
He was so sweet, her Gavin. Even if he could never truly be hers. Could she not pretend? At least for this evening, while they still had time and each other?
“I will sing for you if you like,” she offered. “Come to my chamber again tonight.”
His gaze darkened to vibrant, emerald green, and heat flared in her belly. “That’s an invitation I can’t resist.”
And that was when she realized she wanted to give him more than a song. She wanted to give him herself, her body. He already owned her heart.
“Meet me there in an hour’s time?” She tried to smile past the sudden rush of yearning tearing through her.
That ought to be sufficient time to remove her revealing gown and don something of her own. She also didn’t dare any of her siblings or the guards catching sight of Gavin entering her chamber with her.
“There is nowhere I would rather be. But first, we are going to see your brother, Caro.”
Winter's Warrior (The Wicked Winters Book 13) Page 9
