But she knew it would be useless to argue that point, so she focused on what her mother actually cared about. “My friends will not cut me. I will always be welcome at Lady Abingdon’s home, and Mrs. Eastwood wouldn’t shun a fly.”
“Mrs. Eastwood has her own scandal,” the marchioness said darkly. “She is married to the son of an earl, and even so, there are doors that are closed to them.”
Claire privately thought that those shut doors only led to boring homes, anyway, and it was doubtful that Adelaide cared much. She was quite happy with her small circle of intimate friends—and anyone with even the smallest bit of intelligence could see that the Eastwoods were deeply in love.
“Mother,” Claire said gently. “It won’t matter if the patronesses ban me from Almack’s. I won’t be in London next Season. We will be leaving for Alexandria in a month’s time.”
The marchioness moaned in dismay. “Alexandria! Egypt! That is no place for a lady. There are diseases—”
“There are diseases in England.”
“There are dangerous men.”
“There are dangerous men in England.”
Her mother looked about the room desperately. “You will become horribly brown!”
“I’m already freckled.” Claire lifted her shoulders apologetically. “And I promise to wear a hat.”
The marchioness moaned again. She sank onto a chaise and buried her face in her hands.
Behind them, a footman scratched at the door. “Your pardon, my lady. Mrs. Eastwood is here.”
The marchioness rose. “Send her in. If you will not listen to your own mother, perhaps she can make you see reason, having made mistakes of her own.”
Claire ignored that, as she had a very different opinion on the matter. “Tell Cook to make a tray, as well.”
The footman bowed and departed. The marchioness swept after him without another word to Claire.
Moments later, Adelaide appeared, with Riya by her side.
“Thank goodness you’re here. It’s been a…trying morning.” Claire grimaced. “But I have very good news, although I suspect you have already heard.”
Riya smiled. “If your news is that you have made Colin a very happy man, then yes.”
Some small tightness in her chest loosened slightly at Riya’s words. Claire hadn’t fully realized the feeling was there until it had eased. She did not doubt Colin’s affection for her. It was only that she could not forget the moment after they kissed, when she had asked a question and he had not answered. Such a little thing, her money. Surely, now that he had money of his own, he didn’t regret her wealth.
And yet, she wondered.
“He is very happy,” Adelaide agreed. “But concerned for your welfare. He sent us here to discover whether the marchioness was persuasive in her arguments against the match.”
“She was not.” Claire sat, and the ladies did likewise. “She tried, of course. But I don’t think even the Prince Regent himself could convince me to give up Colin.”
Riya tilted her head and regarded her with curious dark eyes. “How strange. I greatly esteem Colin, to be sure. I have known him for several years now, and he is a good man. Even when he is difficult and stubborn, I like him. But there it ends. My feelings truly go no deeper than friendship. And yet, it is different for you. He is the same man, but where I only feel friendship, you feel love. How does it happen?”
“I have no idea.” Claire gave a perplexed shake of her head. “It happened quite quickly at first. And then it happened again, quite slowly. But as to why I fell in love with Colin rather than, perhaps, Lord Abingdon, whom I have known for half a decade, I couldn’t say. It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? If we could decide who we loved.”
“Indeed.” Riya smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes. “And all the better if the decision lay entirely with women, for I fear men are quite bad at it.”
The tea arrived. Claire poured while she contemplated Riya’s words. She wondered who this man was that Riya had once loved, and what he had done to make her think so. Why had she not run away with him, instead of with her brother? Perhaps one day she would hear the full story.
“Colin is the exception, of course,” Riya continued. “I heartily approve of his choice, and I shall miss you very much, Claire.”
Claire beamed at the affection in the woman’s tone. She passed the first dish to Adelaide and then poured for Riya. “Is it settled, then? Will you stay in London for the winter?”
“Yes. It shall be an adventure of a different sort, I think. I am quite looking forward to it.”
“Riya and I are going riding in the park with Miss Benton tomorrow,” Adelaide broke in. “Of course you must join us, Claire.”
Claire wrinkled her nose. Horseback riding was not her favorite activity.
“Oh, yes, it will be such fun,” Riya said as Claire swallowed a sigh. “I greatly enjoy the animals, but I haven’t had the opportunity to ride since I left home.”
Claire looked at her with interest. “How did you travel in the desert?”
“Camel.” Riya grimaced. “I prefer horses.”
“Ah.” Claire decided she would reserve judgment on that. Surely, camels were reasonable animals. In her experience, horses were not. “It’s just as well. I doubt they allow camels in the park, anyway.”
Riya laughed. “Have I told you that I am so very glad that Colin agreed to your father’s scheme? I thought it was madness, but I am happy to be proven wrong. It has been delightful to know you better. And how funny that the treasure should turn out to be real!”
Claire felt her brows draw together at Riya’s words. Her father’s scheme? “I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “It was my idea to find Scipio’s treasure. What had my father to do with it?”
“Ah.” Riya shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Adelaide. “I assumed Colin had told you. Don’t look like that, darling. It was nothing. Your father had no hope you would find Scipio’s hoard, so he arranged for Colin to hide a treasure and lead you to it. In return, Chatwell would fund our venture in Egypt. But Colin helped you find the treasure—the real treasure—so there was no deception.”
And yet, there was.
“Are you angry?” Riya asked anxiously. “I assure you he meant no harm.”
“I’m not angry.”
She wasn’t. She simply didn’t understand, that was all. Why had he lied? More important, why hadn’t he then told the truth upon their discovery of the real treasure? Surely, he hadn’t forgotten his deal with her father. No matter how she twisted and turned the question, she couldn’t find the answer.
Her happiness dimmed slightly, as though a wispy cloud had crossed over the sun.
Why didn’t Colin trust her with the truth?
Chapter Thirty-Two
The marquess insisted that, now that Colin and Claire were engaged, he and his mother should be guests at Chatwell’s residence.
“Bring your things this evening, and tomorrow you will fetch your mother from Bristol,” Chatwell had said.
Claire thought the idea splendid, especially since it allowed Colin to sneak into her room after the household had fallen asleep. She lay awake, waiting, hoping, until at last her door opened, and a shadow slipped soundlessly into her room. The covers were pulled back, and she shivered at the sudden cold. A moment later his warm body was pressed against hers.
She burrowed closer, inhaling his scent. The smell of the ocean was fainter now. But no matter. Soon enough they would be on a ship, and he would smell like himself again.
“Colin,” she said, and sighed, because he was kissing her neck and that was very distracting.
“Yes, love?”
He had almost reached her clavicle before she remembered she had something to say. “Tell me about your agreement with my father.”
“What agreement?” His voice was muffled against the curve where her throat met her shoulder. He sucked gently at the tender skin.
“Scipio’s hoard. You agreed
to hide a false treasure so I would find it.”
His head slowly lifted. She peered at him in the dark, trying to read his expression.
“I had meant to tell you.” He swore softly. “Are you very angry?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Tell me what happened.”
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “All right. But you must understand that my intention was not to lie to you—although I did do that—but only to keep you safe. Your father told me that you enjoyed adventures, but that these adventures frightened him. The bull that chased you, your broken arm. When you told him you wanted me to help you find the treasure, he was alarmed. He asked me to help you and ensure that no harm came to you.”
“But why the false treasure?” she asked insistently. “I was safe even though we found the real treasure.”
“He didn’t want you to be disappointed. He thought it was impossible to find the true treasure.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You thought it was impossible.”
“Yes,” Colin agreed.
She didn’t know why the words hurt. She had known his doubts. Only…wouldn’t it be lovely to be trusted the way she trusted him?
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“I wanted the money,” he said immediately. “That’s what I do, Claire. I hunt treasure, and I get paid for it. I’m not sorry for it, either. If I hadn’t agreed, then I wouldn’t be in your bed now. I only regret that I didn’t tell you after we found the true treasure.”
She didn’t regret it, either. Not really. She was hurt that he had deceived her. It had been her father’s plan, but somehow his betrayal was less than Colin’s. A father’s loyalty was of a different sort than a lover’s or husband’s.
“Do you forgive me?” Colin stroked her hair gently and rubbed his nose against the side of hers.
“Yes.” She hesitated. Something still bothered her. “What would you have done, if we hadn’t found Scipio’s hoard?”
For a long moment he said nothing. Then, “I don’t know. I hate to think of you disappointed.”
“You cannot protect me from that.”
“I can damn well try.” His mouth found her earlobe, and he nipped. “In fact, I mean to try very hard starting right now.”
She gasped, and laughed as he continued to worry her sensitive ear. “Please do.”
“I shall.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing like a beacon in the dark. “Oh, I shall.”
He rolled away from her and stood. He had already removed his boots before lying down, and now he removed his shirt with efficient speed. She propped herself on her elbows to watch, fascinated, as he undid his breeches.
“As much as I enjoyed our encounter in the cave, there are benefits to a bedroom,” she said. “I didn’t get to see much of you then.”
His hands stilled. “You like to watch.”
“I do.” Her face heated at her bold words, but since he couldn’t tell her blush in the dim light, it didn’t cause her further embarrassment. Someday, they would do this with a dozen candles lit so she could see him even better. Or perhaps they would be scandalous and make love in the afternoon, in the bright sunshine.
He moved more slowly now. “Do you like what you see?”
“Oh, yes,” she said frankly. Truly, he was a beautiful specimen of a man. His breeches were past his hips now, and his cock sprang free. She swallowed hard. “Goodness. No wonder it didn’t fit properly.”
He looked down at himself and gave a husky laugh. “It fit just fine, love. It will fit even better tonight.”
She quivered in anticipation at his words. She rolled up onto her knees and grasped the hem of her night rail, but he stopped her.
“Let me.” He fisted handfuls of fabric and slowly lifted the garment. “You are quite right, you know. It is better in a bedroom than a cave. You have fewer buttons to fuss with, for one thing.”
She heard the hitch in his breath as he exposed the dark triangle between her thighs and then her pale belly.
“For another,” he continued conversationally, “I’m much calmer. I was in a panic, frightened that you might be cold, terrified that someone would stop us. But now I locked the door, and we have plenty of blankets to keep you warm. I mean to take my time.”
She held up her arms so he could lift the shift over her head. And then she was completely naked. She immediately reached for the sheet to cover herself, but then stopped. His gaze was riveted to her breasts. Why should she deprive him of enjoying them? Slowly, she relaxed. She arched her back slightly, improving his view, and he grinned.
“Little minx,” he murmured, just before capturing one pink nipple in his mouth.
She cried out, her fingers digging into his skull to keep him there. Without releasing her breast, he laid her backward and settled between her legs. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, worrying the tip with his tongue until it formed a hard bud.
The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her soft belly, but he made no move to enter her. Instead, he released her nipple with a wet pop and gentle kiss. He slid down her body, dropping hot kisses as he went.
He pushed her legs wider to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. She stared down at him quizzically. There was something wickedly enticing about the sight of his golden head so close to the dark hair that hid her most intimate place.
As though sensing her gaze, he looked up and smiled angelically. “I am going to kiss you.”
And then he was parting her folds, and before she could think to stop him, his mouth was on the very heart of her. She cried out at the intense pleasure of his tongue licking at her center. Her hips bucked, and he pressed her back down, holding her steady for his ministrations. His tongue did all manner of indecent, wonderful things, as he stroked and swirled and sucked.
She groaned as he found her opening and glided inside, tasting her wet heat with luscious strokes of his tongue. She rocked against him, loving the feel of it even as it threatened to consume her sanity.
“I can’t, I can’t.” Her words came with panted gasps. “It’s too much, Colin.”
His kiss turned unbearably sweet. “Oh, love. It’s not nearly enough.”
And then his mouth lowered again, and he found the swollen, aching place where she needed him most. He worried it gently with the tip of his tongue before giving her a firm suck. She could not bear it any longer. Her hands found him, clenching his golden hair with her fists, and her hips lifted. She called his name as the pleasure peaked. He held her through the crest, until the pleasure gentled.
He pressed a kiss to her thigh and prowled up her languid body. She looked at him with half-shut eyes. Again she felt him against her belly, even harder and hotter than he had been before. She gently pushed at his shoulders, easing him away so she might have a better look.
“Will it hurt if I touch you?”
He laughed hoarsely. “Yes, but only in the best possible way.”
She took him in her hand, making a startled sound as it jumped against her. “How is it so hard and soft at the same time? Like steel wrapped in velvet.” Her thumb swirled around the weeping slit.
He groaned. “You’re killing me. It’s too much.”
She smiled at hearing her own words on his lips. “It’s not nearly enough.”
She experimented. Did he like her to hold him more firmly? To stroke him slowly or quickly? She touched him in every way she could imagine, until suddenly he rolled her backward and covered her body with his own, pinning her to the bed.
“Enough of that now,” he said, and his voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it.
His hand went between them, stroking into her wetness, making her wetter still. Then he took his hand away, and his cock was at her entrance. He entered her in a hard stroke, but only going halfway into her tight heat before retreating. Then he entered her again in one long, thick slide.
She arched against him and wrapped her arms tightly around his back. He was not gentle, and she did not wi
sh him to be. She hung on as he moved with urgent thrusts. Then, suddenly, he lifted his hips from hers so that he slid from her fully. He spent against her belly, groaning her name.
She gave a contented sigh as his body relaxed against hers. This was perfect.
Or very nearly so, anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Colin explained to his mother that he was now fifty thousand pounds richer, she was stunned into speechlessness.
When he then informed his mother that Lady Claire Harrison, daughter of the Marquess of Chatwell and granddaughter of the Duke of Albright, had agreed to marry him with her father’s consent, she recovered her tongue.
And it was sharp.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she demanded. “You cannot marry her.”
“I thought you liked her,” he said, as though that were all that mattered.
“I do like her. She’s a good girl. A bit odd, certainly, but kind and sweet. The issue is not whether I like her, and you know it.”
“It should be.” They were talking of marriage, after all. Of bonding oneself to another for the entirety of their lives. Wouldn’t it be better to actually like the person?
“And England should have a king who is not insane. Girls should not be raped by the men they serve.” His mother picked up her sewing to continue the work he had interrupted. “Very little about the world is as it should be, Colin.”
“But this could be.” He watched her stab the needle viciously through the muslin hem. “You don’t have to do that, you know. You never have to do that again.”
She peered up at him. “I promised it would be done by tomorrow.”
He wanted to rip the dress from her hands, to shout at her. Why should she sacrifice even a modicum more of her eyesight? But he clamped his jaw shut. It was the last dress she would ever sew for another lady. He could allow her that.
“It is not a question of her being too good for you, or you too good for her.” His mother squinted at her needlework, holding it up close to her eyes, and made another stitch. “The good Lord made none of us perfect, and neither of you are the exception to that.”
Wicked With the Scoundrel Page 13
