Her bright eyes implored him, but there was no damn need for her to plead. She had his trust, and he suspected a great deal more than that, as much as he did not want to admit it. The overwhelming need to protect her fairly choked him.
“Arabella”—he cleared his throat when it cracked—“you can count on me. I will deal with this man Jude. And Canning.” And the king. Prinny could never know she had stolen from him. “I’m not admitting I’m a spy to you, of course,” he added, knowing it was futile.
“Oh, do be quiet!” She jumped up from her seat and kneeled before him. She grasped his hands in hers. “I wish you’d trust me as I’m trusting you. And,” she said, her lashes lowering to blanket her eyes, “I wish ever so much that you’d kiss me.”
Had she really just uttered that plea? She could hardly believe her boldness or the longing to feel his lips on hers that coursed through her. He’d accepted her words as truth, and he was going to help her. She knew she could count on him in her heart, but his proving it yet again banished any lingering doubts about what she wanted. He would not fail her or leave her floundering.
Her breath caught as she raised her eyes to him. He was so proud and honorable all alone behind the wall of indifference he’d built. She understood his aloofness because she’d been much the same. She’d convinced herself that she didn’t have time for love, but now, dear God, now love had made time for her. She didn’t simply care for Justin. She loved him. He had her heart, and she wanted to obtain his. For his love, she’d risk it all.
“You want me to kiss you?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded.
Desire flickered to a bursting flame in his eyes. “You’re sure you are not trying to seduce me?” His words were bantering, but his voice was gruff.
Her pulse beat a thumping rhythm in her throat. She swallowed. “I’m sure I am. Will you let me?”
“Let you?” An incredulous look swept his face. “I will do more than let you, sweet Arabella,” he promised.
He bent his head to hers and claimed her mouth in a kiss of possession that branded her as his, whether he wanted her to be or not. He traced her lips with his tongue, nipping and kissing, each contact of his skin to hers drugging her and lulling her toward euphoria. She scooted between his thighs to get closer to him, and the intoxicating smell of liquor mingled with his masculine sweat overwhelmed her. She broke the kiss because she had the desperate need to press her lips to the corded muscles that tensed under her hands. When her lips met his chest, he groaned and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away from him. A quiver surged through her veins at the look of raw need he gave her.
“If you keep kissing me like that,” he growled, “I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Good,” she replied. “It will do you good to lose the control you so prize.”
His fingers curled tightly around her arms. “Arabella, I’m speaking of more than seductive kisses.”
She shook with fear, hope, and need. Forcing herself to be bolder still, she raised her hands to his shirttails and slipped them under the garment. She hissed when her fingers made contact with his hot, taut skin. Slowly, she slid her hands over the hard, chiseled planes of his abdomen.
A groan escaped him as he clutched her hands and stilled her. “You are sure?”
The sensuality in his voice caused a deep ache to grow in her throat, making it almost impossible to respond. “Very.”
He pulled her to her feet and seemingly weightlessly into his arms. She tilted her head and he stared at her with a sort of wonder that surprised her. “You are the only woman I’ve ever allowed in my home.”
A surge of happiness coursed through her. Perhaps he’d let her into his heart, too. “I’m glad of that,” she said, knowing it meant a great deal that he’d not simply booted her out the door. He had let down his guard a bit, whether he realized it or not.
An uncertainty slid over his face as he gazed at her. “I don’t know what I can promise you, but I know you make me feel things that I’ve never experienced. Softness. Yearning. Weakness.” The last he said with a scowl.
“I don’t desire any promises,” she said, meaning it. She desired a chance at real love. Consuming love. Passionate love. Surely that sort of love required a great risk. Following all the rules with a man like Justin would simply never work.
He nodded and silently closed the distance between the chairs and the bed. When they reached the mattress, he laid her down gently and then straightened, standing before her as he peeled off his shirt to reveal a body sculpted by what must have been hours of grueling exercise. The daggers protruding from the multitude of wooden targets in the room had not gone unnoticed.
He crawled over her, his weight making the bed creak. Staring down at her with his arms on either side of hers, he said, “You make me want to—”
“Your Grace!” Mumford boomed from the other side of the door, making Justin frown fiercely. Arabella stifled a nervous giggle at the man’s poor timing. “Miss Carthright’s tea is ready.”
“She doesn’t want the bloody tea. Go away and stay gone. I’ll call you if I need you!”
“Thank you, Hugh!” Arabella called out on a gale of escaped laughter.
Justin grinned down at her, and the genuine happiness and ease she saw in his face made her heart lurch. He reached down and brushed a strand of her hair away from her cheek. “God, you make me feel happy.”
She frowned up at him. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
He ran his hand down her face, featherlight, as if she were glass that he might break. “I’m unsure. Had you asked me three days ago, before you came into my life, I’d have said it was an impossible circumstance, one of which I wanted no part.”
She grasped his hand in hers, brought them to her lips, and kissed his fingertips. “And now?”
“I want you. Therefore, I must desire how you make me feel. But with such feelings comes vulnerability. I cannot afford to be vulnerable.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, finding boldness again as she stroked a hand down his taut stomach, “what you cannot afford, what will make you less than human, is to never be vulnerable. Be human with me for this small moment in time. I tried to need no one, too, and I’ve decided it’s no way to live.”
“I think you may be right,” he said, lowering his head and brushing his lips against hers. She thought he might claim her mouth in another of his wondrous kisses, but he moved lower, deftly sliding one hand behind her back, lifting her slightly, and loosening her gown as his other hand trailed over one breast and then the other.
Her breasts grew heavy with aching need as he teased her. “Curse this gown!” she blurted and pushed against his chest until he rolled to her side with a chuckle. She scampered off the bed and yanked out of her gown and unmentionables until they were naught but a crumpled pile on the floor. The cool air hit her hot flesh like a blast of wind and made her suddenly very aware that she stood naked before a man for the first time, and he was not her husband. She braced for the shame to singe her, yet it didn’t come. She loved this particular man. Her mouth parted with the knowledge that poured through her veins, made her heart pump faster, and swirled the thoughts in her head.
He smiled wickedly. “I never thought I’d say this, but I do believe I adore an impatient woman.”
She cocked her eyebrows. “Any impatient woman?”
He was off the bed and standing in front of her before she could comprehend that he was moving. “Only you.” He brushed a hand along her neck, gooseflesh rising in the wake of his touch. He offered her a grin of clear amusement. “But now I will show you how being patient will bring you great pleasure.”
“All right,” she whispered, heat pooling in her belly.
“For instance, if I were not a patient man I would not do this…” Justin cupped her breasts and then flicked his tongue teasingly over the tips of each hard bud.
She could not contain her exclamation of delight. His gaze flew upward and locked
with hers, and he offered a smile that promised more sinful lessons.
“If I were the impatient sort, I’d only think on the fact that I long to plunge myself deep within you, and I’d forget what a sweetly excruciating ache doing this can bring.”
His strong arms wrapped around her waist, and his hands splayed across her back and pushed her toward him once more until he took her right breast into his mouth. His hot lips suckled her breast, and then he teased her bud. She was certain she would collapse from desire. Her legs and arms shook with such force that she had to cling to him.
He straightened slowly to tower over her. When he looked down at her, her heart fluttered wildly at the tenderness in his gaze. “A hurried man would not take the time to simply drink in the beauty of the strongest, most compassionate woman he’d ever met.”
Her skin prickled with pleasure at his words. “Thank you,” she said.
“No,” he replied in a velvet voice, “thank you for trusting me.” He traced a path down her waist with one hand while his other unbuttoned his breeches. When they fell to the floor to reveal that he wore nothing underneath, she marveled at the strange beauty of his body that sprang forward, long and hard.
She started to move her hand to reach for him, but he shook his head. “Not yet,” he choked out. “I desperately want your touch, but even I’m not patient enough to slow myself once you do that. Let me bring you pleasure first, and then we will find it together.”
She opened her mouth to offer her agreement, but when his fingers softly plunged into the hair between her thighs and expertly found the nub pulsing there, she could not speak. All she could do was gasp as he rubbed across the nub with slow, gentle circles. Her thoughts spun away from her as his circles became faster, harder, and pinpointed the exact spot that made her scream. She could not hold it back. He captured her mouth with a kiss as his fingers moved deftly until the blood raged through her veins, and her belly cramped as, deep inside, her body clenched and then unclenched on wave after delicious wave of pleasure.
“I cannot stand any more,” she said through her pants and the thundering of her heart.
He swooped her into his arms and laid her down. The bed moaned with his weight, as he loomed above her. She struggled to bring her heartbeat back under control. It was hopeless. He gently nudged her legs apart with his knee, and when he was hovering between her thighs, his hands slid under her, grasped her buttocks in a firm grip, and lifted her hips high in the air.
“Now,” he said through clenched teeth that indicated how the wait was costing him physically, “we shall see the fruits of patience together.”
Her heart leaped as he thrust deep within her. There was a momentary pinch, followed by the feeling that he filled her unbearably. Yet swiftly upon those feelings, his heat enveloped her. She grasped onto his back as he moved in slow, careful strokes.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle voice, his gaze holding hers.
All right could not possibly describe it. She wanted to explain, but she was afraid she’d blubber on about how incredible he felt. She nodded. “Perfect.”
He leaned down as he glided in and out and brushed his lips to hers. “You’ve entranced me,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her face.
“Likewise,” she replied, unable to say more when the turbulence of passion captured her once again.
He must have sensed her growing need because his long strokes became faster and harder until her body vibrated like liquid fire.
“Arabella,” he rasped.
She focused on his face. It was lined with tension and desire. Perspiration covered his brow, his straining arms, and his chest.
“No more patience,” she demanded.
She could see the relief dance across his face as he gathered her toward him and plunged even deeper within her, carrying her with him over some edge of bliss she never cared to return from. They cried out together, her body tensing at the same moment as his. He pulled out quickly with a shudder, and collapsed onto the bed beside her. Their mingled panting filled the silent room, and now, bereft of the heat he had offered when he covered her with his body, she shivered. Putting his large hand around her waist, he drew her to him, then glided his hand under her back. She turned into his chest and nestled her head into the space between his shoulder and chin. It was a perfect fit.
He traced his fingers softly through her hair. “I’ve never done this.”
“Oh, please,” she managed. “I know you have.”
He chuckled, and she could hear the merry rumble deep within his chest. “No,” he replied. “I’ve never held a woman in my arms after bedding her.”
She held her breath, praying he would continue.
He glided his hand over her head as he spoke. “I never wanted to. But with you…” His hand stilled and he hooked a finger under her chin until their gazes met. “With you I find I want to very much. And not just this once. I want…” His brow furrowed. “I want…”
“What do you want?” She couldn’t contain the question.
“You. And it scares me. I can only be so open. Do you think you can accept that?”
Tears burned her eyes as she pressed her lips to his. “Yes.” She could accept that, because if he was willing to be vulnerable with her at all, she was sure the rest would come.
He cupped her face and gave her a long, sweet kiss. When he drew away, he said, “I don’t want to move, but we must. We need to make a plan, and I still need to complete my mission, if nothing else.”
She wasn’t sure what if nothing else meant, but now was not the time to ask, for she was certain the answer was not simple. And she had to go home. Jude was watching and waiting, and her father needed her. She followed Justin’s lead and scooted off the bed and hurriedly dressed. They moved in silence, and it struck her with both happiness and fear how natural it felt to be with him.
He came behind her as she struggled with the buttons of her gown. “Let me,” he offered in a gentle voice.
She nodded, lifted her hair, and waited. After he finished, he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Let us go.”
She whirled toward him. “Us?”
He nodded, a dark expression crossing his face. “Did you think I’d let you go alone?”
Her stomach clenched. “But you must! Jude has someone watching my house, and they’ll kill my father if you come back with me.”
“Arabella,” he said in a tone she recognized as soothing, “trust me. I can handle Jude and anyone else who means to harm you. You are safe with me.”
Safe. Yes, she believed it with all her heart, which was why she had come here in the first place. That and the little fact that she had fallen in love with him. She wanted to tell him, but she feared it would send him running in the opposite direction.
“What is your plan?” she asked instead.
He motioned for her to follow him as he strode toward the door. “Well,” he started as he opened the door, but she didn’t hear whatever else he was going to say because she screamed. A tall blond man with narrowed green eyes and a two-inch white scar down his right cheek stood there with a pistol aimed at them.
He gave a swift mock bow. “A pleasure.”
Justin scowled at Davenport for scaring Arabella so much. “Does no one bloody knock anymore?” he demanded as he grabbed Arabella’s hand. “This is my friend, the Marquess of Davenport,” he said to Arabella as he shoved past Davenport.
“I did bloody well knock,” Davenport thundered. “No one answered your door.”
Damned stubborn Mumford. Justin had told him to make himself scarce until he called for him, and the damnable man had done exactly that.
“Naturally,” Davenport said, his footsteps close behind, “I became worried since you did respond to my note that you’d be here.”
“As you can see,” Justin growled, stopping at the bottom of the long stairwell to give Arabella a moment to catch her breath, “I’m here, and I’m not in danger from Miss Carthright.”
Davenport’s eyes narrowed further, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “So you say.”
Justin frowned. What the hell was wrong with Davenport? He knew who Arabella was because Justin had told him. “She’s as trustworthy as your wife,” Justin growled.
Arabella’s fingers tightened around his hand as she faced Davenport. “I swear your secrets are safe with me.”
Davenport’s mouth fell open. Then his face turned red as he glared at Justin. “Did you tell her—”
“No,” Justin clipped before his friend foolishly revealed his own past, which Justin knew he did not want known.
Davenport’s jaw visibly clenched. “Might I speak with you alone, Dinnisfree?”
“No,” Justin said, making to start toward the door, but Davenport grabbed him by the arm. Justin jerked around, swinging Arabella with him. He glanced at his friend’s hand, then up at Davenport, who ought to know better than to grab him. “Let me go. You can tell me what you know on the way to Miss Carthright’s.”
Davenport shook his head. “I need to speak to you alone.”
Justin sighed. He understood Davenport’s reluctance to talk around Arabella, but it irked him. “We will be alone.”
“You will?” Arabella asked in surprise.
“Yes.” He encircled her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead, well aware that his friend was gawking at him once again. “We’ll follow on foot well behind you, so whoever is watching your home does not see us.”
“Yes, that makes perfect sense,” she replied. “But what is your plan after you follow me home?”
“Once you are safely inside, Davenport here will ferret out who is watching you.” He glanced at his friend, who gave a reluctant, rather skeptical-looking inclination of his head.
“I’ll do whatever must be done to protect you, Dinnisfree,” Davenport replied. “You know that.”
Justin didn’t miss the stress on his name, nor the fact that his friend had left out that he’d protect Arabella. He’d have to assuage Davenport’s mistrust when they were alone.
The Dangerous Duke of Dinnisfree Page 17
