It was an odd notion, but perhaps the last few years that he thought he had spent dying, had he perhaps spent them healing?
Death was inevitable, the physician had told him. Yet, was not every man’s death inevitable? Did not Ren, in fact, yet live?
Could it be so? Could he be healed?
Could he seize life again? Could he have that life with Calliope?
With a growl he flung open the door to his bedchamber. In another moment he was pounding down the stairs once more.
Chapter 22
Calliope sat quietly in her chair at the table, her face sad, her eyes downcast—a disappointed goddess of temptation. When Ren entered she looked up in surprise.
Without speaking, he flung out his arm and a great shower of pearls scattered over the table, rolling down the great cherrywood expanse of it, bouncing into the plate of food and flowers, spilling into her rose silken lap. She gasped and caught a few pearls in their flight, then turned wide eyes to him.
“I want the entire night,” he rasped. He came to stand before her. “I want it all.”
She smiled up at him with that single taunting brow raised. “Well, I want to see you … all of you.”
Appalled, he took a sharp step back. “You have seen me. You found me quite horrible, if you recall.”
“Of no consequence.” She waved a careless hand. “And unfair. I’d had a long and trying day … and you were assaulting me, if you recall.”
He looked down. She had a point. But to do this …
Callie waited, her heart pounding, her hands shaking with tension. She dared not let it show. She would only frighten him if he knew what this meant to her. So she kept her fierce desire under wraps and only gazed at him coolly.
“Well? Those are my terms.” She held up a single pearl between forefinger and thumb. “One command, one pearl. No negotiation.”
Ren could not do it. He couldn’t watch her smile fade and the light in her eyes go out, and even if she could bear to stay in the same room as him, like Henry, she would never look at him again …
Yet he was tired. So bloody tired. Tired of hiding in the shadows of this house, in this hood, so bloody tired of hanging on to the past and the loathing and betrayal. This girl, with her sweet mischievous smile and her stubborn, valiant heart … perhaps this girl would not reject him.
Callie waited. This man, this wonderful, good, heroic, dismal, hopeless, injured man … how could he believe she could reject him? How could she possibly resist such a man?
She stood, her position bringing her next to him, almost upon him. If he could not do it, she would help him. Always. She held the pearl up for him to see, then tucked it into his weskit pocket. Then, trying hard to seem confident, but in reality with shaking hands and tremulous heart, she slid her hands up his chest, over his weskit, up to where the edge of the cowl nearly covered his cravat. Her fingers touched the hem, yet he had not protested nor moved a muscle. He was, she suspected, not even breathing.
The feeling was mutual.
First, she slid her fingers beneath, following the cravat knot up to his collar, up past it to his throat … on to his jaw—
He had shaved! Gone was that tangle of neglected beard! Her fingers twitched at the urge to touch his cheek.
Gone was the bristly brush of his beard scraping upon her skin. Instead there would only be smooth-shaven cheek upon her flesh. His mouth would be all tantalizing heat and his lips would be teasing and his teeth would be softly nipping and his cheek would be so smooth against her thighs …
She lifted the cowl just a bit. She’d wanted for so long to see his mouth. She loved his mouth on her, loved the way his lips felt warm and firm.
It was a beautiful mouth, even tugged slightly awry by his scars. She could understand why it had felt so good on her. His mouth was made for kissing.
She went up on her toes and kissed him, her first kiss … their first kiss.
She felt him take a sharp breath, felt him shudder, as if some fierce inner tension had released itself, the snapping of a taut bowstring of fear.
He at last began to kiss her back softly. Oh, it was lovely. Her lips parted in her eagerness. His tongue flicked out, dampening the seam of her mouth, dipping, teasing … that tongue that had driven her wild, that he had used on her body more than once … she slid her own naïve tongue to meet his, dipping it between his perfect lips.
The kiss deepened. His hands came up to thrust urgent fingers into her hair. She slid her arms about his neck. The rumpled cowl remained just above the tip of his nose, but at that moment she needed nothing more than the lips she’d so longed for …
Ren wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with everything he had, every hope, every fear, as every distant clanging of imminent doom fell away. She was here. Now. And now was all that mattered. Not the past. Not the future. For all his sudden fierce dreams of her, of them, it turned out that the best thing about Callie was losing himself in now.
She kissed him back, as fiercely and ardently as he did her. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her sweet body into him and clung as tightly as any man could wish.
Yet he knew it was a stolen moment. She kissed him now … but she had not yet seen the worst. It was not right to make her think that he was someone she would ever want to kiss again.
He set her back down on her feet. He took two steps back then, slowly, he pulled the hood up and away.
And waited.
Callie looked at him. She saw what she had seen that fateful night. She saw what she had seen that made her cry out in fear and shock.
Yet this was no dark demon in the night. This was Ren. Yes, Ren. Hero. Recluse. Caring man. Indifferent master. Tantalizing lover.
He’d been stunning once. She could see it now. His features were square but noble. His dark auburn hair thick and curling. His eyes … the angels themselves must envy eyes of such a summer-sky blue! They were riveting, stealing one’s attention even from the sad, terrible scars.
It must have been a blow for a handsome young man to lose that gift of beauty. Yet she might not have ever grown to know that handsome lad.
Then the other side, the poor, shattered, betrayed side. She lifted her hand and let it rest upon his slashed cheek. “You must have been terribly frightened when you were attacked.”
He remained very still beneath her touch. “I don’t remember. I only recall being angry, angry that I would not continue breathing, continue being.”
She smiled softly, though her eyes were damp. “Yet here you are, with me, right now, breathing and being.”
“Yes,” he breathed. “I am. Here. With you.”
Her fingertips passed over his brow, slipping into his hair, tracing the scars along his scalp that left those wild, white stripes in his dark curls.
“Did I ever mention that I don’t care for handsome men?”
She surprised a short laugh from him. “No, I don’t believe our conversation ever touched upon your taste in men.”
“Handsome men do tend to be such knobs.” She grimaced slightly. “Dade is humble because I keep him so, but my other brothers spend their good looks on flirtation and fickleness. I’ve spent my life surrounded by handsome men. I am so far unimpressed.”
She gazed unflinchingly at his face, a fingertip following the crease where his torn cheek tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it isn’t kind to lump all handsome men in one bonfire, but really, they can be so thoughtless and arrogant … and all because of gifts that were given them, not earned.”
He said nothing for a long moment. “I used to be that man, I think.”
She lifted her other hand, touching the mostly unscarred side of his face. “Yes, I imagine you were. I likely would have hated you.”
He frowned slightly. “I don’t think I was quite that bad.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve quite got it into my mind now. You were a shallow, self-absorbed town clown. A dandy, even.”
He caught at one of her hands
, and kissed her knuckles. “Bite your tongue. I was a hardworking sp—fellow. I had responsibilities.”
She smirked. “Yes, I know. All those favors for the Crown.” He stared at her. “What—how did—”
She laughed and twined her arms about his neck. “I snooped. You said I could spend my days as I liked. I’d like to meet George someday. Mama speaks of him with great fondness.”
He stared down at her, stunned by her ease, not yet ready to truly believe. “Your mother knows the Prince Regent?”
She tucked her head under his chin. “Darling, the Worthingtons know everyone.”
She called him “darling.”
She’d seen him. She’d touched him. And now she called forth pet names?
He believed.
“Callie…”
“Mm. Yes, Ren?”
“The night begins now.”
He bent and swept her easily into his arms. This time he didn’t bolt up the stairs. He took them slowly, gazing into those shining hazel eyes … eyes that had always seen him, hooded or not.
* * *
When he paused before her bedchamber door, she put out a hand.
“No. This is a new beginning. I want another room.”
He frowned at her. She lifted a hand to stroke his face.
His scarred face. Unbelievable.
“Let’s try your room, shall we?”
Ren hesitated, but couldn’t think of anything particularly revolting left lying about that room. He’d only recently taken possession.
When he pushed open the door he halted in shock.
Callie laughed aloud.
His room had still been half wrapped in dustcovers when he’d left this morning. Now it had clearly seen the hands of Calliope. Every surface gleamed and glowed and smelled of beeswax.
“For the master of the manor,” Callie said lightly. “’Tis only fitting.”
“But how could you know that I…”
She shrugged. “I am most determined, but just in case.” She reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a sprig of rosemary.
“I made sure you would think of me all night long.”
He shook his head in amazement. “The stunning thing is that you don’t know that I already think of you all night long.”
She smiled and dipped him a little curtsy from the circle of his arms. “Why, thank you, Sir Lawre—”
He held up a hand. “Ren. I like the sound of it on your lips. I thought Ren was dead … but I think he was only sleeping, until you woke him.”
Callie smiled. “I’ve heard that I am impossible to ignore.”
He laughed and swept her in a big circle that had her rose-pink skirts fluttering like silken sails.
She let her head fall back and she laughed.
They landed on the bed. Callie reached up to run her fingers through his wild hair. “You look like a lion with all those dark red curls. We shall have to do something about this.”
He buried his face in her bosom. “I am already a changed man. How much more do you want?”
She cradled his jaw in her small hands. “Why, Mr. Porter, don’t you realize? I want it all.”
He kissed her, kissed her until he’d climbed on top of her and had tangled his fists in her hair, until they were both breathless, until she writhed under him, until he had to stop, too dizzy with wanting to do anything but pant into her neck. “I knew it,” she breathed into his ear. “You are a most passionate man, Ren.”
He went still. “I have starved for so long … until last night. I am still so hungry. I don’t know if I can be … be the way you need me to be, for your first time.”
She twined his hair about her fingers for a moment. He imagined her thoughts like vining tendrils, seeking and twining and grasping with little spirals of cleverness.
“I think you will be precisely what I need, the first time and every time. You have already taught me so much.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I am ashamed of that demeaning bargain.”
She made a doubtful noise. “I don’t know that you should feel so demeaned by it. In the end, I treated you very nicely.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. “You’re right. I promise to no longer feel demeaned.”
She tickled his ear with her fingertip. “Are you feeling in more control now? I would like to kiss you again.”
Ren’s heart soared at her words. He, who’d thought that he would never be kissed again. He rolled her over in a great bear hug, until she rested atop him. Her mussed hair hung in sweet tendrils about her face and her bosom fell right out of the decadent dress.
Ren decided to show his appreciation for such fine craftsmanship and sucked a pink nipple into his mouth. Soon she was gasping and squirming in his grip. His erection took the brunt of the punishment, but it was such sweet delicious pain, feeling Calliope writhing atop him, grinding her hot, damp center down upon his trapped cock.
Then she dipped her head down and caught him up in kissing her once more. Her sweet mouth, untutored but so very interested in education, nearly cost him the night. He held her shoulders in his hands and lifted her away while he caught his breath.
Callie took advantage of this opportunity to divest him of some of his clothing. She tugged at his surcoat sleeves, pulling the thing off in seconds. Then his weskit was unbuttoned and wrested from him. At his shirt, Ren hesitated. “My face is not the only thing that is scarred.”
She grinned down at him. “I know. I peek, you know. You’re quite the swashbuckler, aren’t you? Did someone run you through with a sword?”
Ren sighed. Of course there would be no rule Callie would not break if she felt like it. “It was a pike, in fact. Something the boatmen use to catch at the loading cables.”
“Mmhmm.” She was clearly more interested in stripping his shirt from him than in the finer points of dock work. Ren sat up and pulled his shirt over his head in a swift movement.
Here he was, more naked before her than he’d been for anyone since the last doctor had given him the fateful opinion. Callie sat up upon him, clearly unaware that her hot, damp cunt had his erection trapped and tantalized. “You are a finely made man … though you are a bit thin. We need a proper cook.”
He reached up to chase down a nipple that insisted on playing hide-and-seek with him. “You may feed me weeds all the days of summer if you like,” he said softly.
Callie gazed down at him, so proud of him that she could scarcely speak for the tightness in her throat. So she played the silly gamine, teasing him about being thin when the violence done to his body nearly broke her heart. She wanted to cry over him. She wanted to mother him and she wanted to be his dear companion … and she wanted to be his lover.
He wasn’t ready to speak of such things yet … she could see that it was all he could do to accept tonight for what it was, to accept that she wanted him, that she desired his body and was not repulsed by his dear, damaged face.
He moved beneath her and she found welcome distraction in pondering the size of him.
“Ren?”
“Yes, Callie?”
“Precisely how does it … fit?”
She’d meant to distract him from his self-consciousness, but it turned out that she truly needed to know. A faint but distinct trace of worry had crept into her voice.
“Oh, sweet Callie.” His big hands came up to sweep the hair from about her face. He gazed into her eyes. “You know I shall try very hard not to hurt you.”
She nodded.
“And you know that I … well, I have done this before.”
She frowned. “Really? How many virgins have you deflowered?”
He laughed. “Oh, thousands,” he said airily. “I’m known worldwide.” He shook his head. “You are my first, dear little Worthington lass, but I know the general mechanics of it and the working theory … so do you trust me?”
She nodded instantly. “Oh, yes. I trust you completely.”
He seemed a bit shaken by that. “Good. Ah
… is there anything you’d like to ask me, other than the fit?”
Callie smiled at him. “No, that is all for now … although I’m sure I’ll think of something later. Dade says I am made of questions.”
“Of that I have no doubt. Oh, and Callie?”
“Yes, Ren?”
“When we are together in bed, would you do me the enormous favor of not talking about your family?”
She bit her lip. “I can see where that might be a bit on the inappropriate side.”
“Thank you. I prefer to have only two of us in this bed.”
“Consider it done.”
He sat up, keeping her astride his lap. “I’m going to remove the rest of my clothing now.”
She frowned. “I didn’t notice before. Are there any more scars?”
He smiled. “A few. Nothing to concern yourself about. My leg was broken rather badly, but it isn’t the outside that is painful.”
She allowed him to slide her off his lap, though she stole a kiss on the way and he managed a quick taste of a nipple. All in all it was a most pleasurable slide.
Then he stood. Callie knelt on the bed, not willing to miss a moment. His boots were next. Then his trousers and with them his knee-length drawers. Then he was entirely bare before her, not hiding this time.
Callie gazed at him happily. “I think your form is very fine. And you are standing so much straighter than when I first came.”
He smiled. “You have been good for me.”
For a moment, her face went pink and her eyes grew very soft and large. “Thank you,” she breathed. Then the little clown was back. She pointed at his erection, which, due to the fact that she sat as alert as a kitten but was dressed in a courtesan’s gown, had not faded a hint.
“You were going to explain the fit.”
He stepped closer to the bed and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
He walked her to the chair that sat before the fire and drew her onto his lap. The pink silk caught the glow of the flame and made her look like a rising sun.
“You will be tight around me, like a sheath around a sword,” he murmured into her ear. “You will grow wetter and wetter the more I kiss and touch you, until I will slip inside you like coming home.”
When She Said I Do Page 21
