Kisses to Steal

by Tilly Wallace

  "Ah, so you should be congratulated on hitting what is no doubt a very small target," Ewan said and ruffled Quinn's unruly mop, while Alick snorted in laughter.

  "Quinn's intent was never to kill the viscount. His shot was the method by which justice was delivered. Now his sentence will begin," Aster said.

  "I don't understand. He is being carried away. Will you not take him into custody so he can be charged with his crimes?" Ianthe stared at the captain.

  "As you know, the English courts would never charge him, so we have delivered Scottish justice. Never think that he goes unpunished," Hamish said.

  Aster took Ianthe's hands as she explained. "Lady Miles worked an ensorcellment on the shot which Ewan loaded into Quinn's pistol. It will turn Hoth's crimes upon him. Each sliver of soul he consumed will become a barb within him. For each sip he drank of a woman, he will lose a slice of flesh and bone. The souls he ate will turn upon him and devour him from the inside out."

  Ianthe stared at the young woman as she digested what would happen to the viscount. "Will it hurt?"

  Aster nodded. "Lady Miles tells me the pain will be excruciating, and he will not find relief in any opiate."

  The carriage disappeared through the trees, taking the fallen peer with it. Ianthe turned back to her new friend. "Good. He told me the pain as he ate my soul would be transcendent. Let him find out now for himself what that really means."

  Alick chuckled. "Remind me never to cross a woman with power."

  "Seraphina Miles is something of a champion for women and the downtrodden. I don't believe a male mage would have been quite as inventive. But there will be justice for the fallen women. Soon we will be able to search his house for their bones and give them peace." Aster left Ianthe's side and returned to her husband.

  Ianthe stared at the man who held her heart. There were hidden depths to him and she shivered in anticipation, thinking of all that time would reveal. Shaking off such thoughts, she concentrated on the matter at hand. Hoth had indeed been a poor shot, for which she was eternally grateful. Quinn had a nasty flesh wound where it had torn his upper arm, but the injury was neither life-threatening nor dangerous. Once cleaned and bandaged, he was handed a new shirt and jacket.

  He shrugged on the clothing. His gaze intensified as he stared at her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to my fiancée."

  29

  Ianthe

  * * *

  "Will you ride pillion with me?" Quinn took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his cheek. A simple gesture, but one that touched her to her core.

  "Like a child who cannot ride on her own?" Ianthe said. She had never ridden pillion, taking too much pride in her own equestrian skill.

  "Like the woman I love and want to hold in my arms, not stare at from across a carriage." His brown gaze shimmered with fire in its depths. The wolf lurked within too, calling to its mate.

  The power of that one look, from man and creature combined, made her lips part, and she uttered a silent sigh. Well, when he worded it in such a manner… "How can I refuse?"

  She peered around Quinn to where the others stood. "But are matters here settled? What of the other man who shot at you?"

  "Hamish will deal with it, and we will meet later at Aunt Maggie's. But there are things we must discuss first." He drew her to his horse and then leapt into the saddle. He extended one hand, a world of promise offered in a single gesture.

  She stared at his hand and ideas bubbled in her mind at all it meant to accept his offer. Dreams realised, she murmured to herself. Perhaps the sight might start being a bit more reliable and offer her guidance in the coming years, rather than tormenting her with hindsight. Then she placed a foot in his stirrup and he hauled her to the front of the saddle.

  The light mare danced sideways at the extra burden, and as one, they both breathed soothing words. She leaned into Quinn's chest and slipped one arm around his waist. With her other hand, she wound a strand of mane between her fingers. They did not ride far; Quinn took them to a small mews in Kensington. A young lad took the mare and he helped Ianthe down.

  "This is where we keep our horses when we are staying with Aunt Maggie. There is something I want to show you," he said, leading her toward the quiet stables.

  She stood on the threshold of the barn door as pain lanced her heart anew. Galahad. She had lost the stallion. Events of the last day had overtaken her mind. How could she have forgotten to mourn the proud horse? How could she bear to walk into another stable, knowing the feisty Arab was gone from her life? At least she had steady Constance and the house. She drew a deep breath of horse, hay, and leather. She would have to find a replacement. Somehow.

  "Ianthe?" Quinn caressed her hand with his thumb when she stood still and did not move.

  "Sorry. It reminds me that I lost something recently. Could we do this another day?" While one hole in her heart was filled by Quinn, the loss of Galahad had created a new cavity.

  "I promise this will help. Would you trust me and close your eyes for just a few steps?" He rubbed her knuckles to his cheek.

  Trust. A new word in her vocabulary. She could manage that for a few strides. She nodded and closed her eyes. Step by slow step, he drew her further into the peaceful stables. Horses nickered to one another. Some munched hay, their large jaws crushing the feed like grindstones. Tack jangled as unseen grooms cleaned the leather. Each sound and odour was so familiar, and they embraced her and offered comfort. However, the pain lingered. How could she replace the stallion?

  She didn't even notice when Quinn stopped at one stall and waited. After a moment, his breath whispered over her skin, "You can open your eyes now."

  She drew a deep breath and surveyed the dim interior, her gaze slow to adjust to the low light. A large head appeared over the stall door in front of her and the horse butted her shoulder. Really, could it not see she was distracted? Her gaze flicked sideways and took in the grey muzzle and white forelock. A narrow shaft of morning light angled through the open doors and the coat on the horse was lit silver, and he shimmered as though sprinkled with magic dust. She frowned and looked again, as the horse mouthed her bonnet and tried to use his lips to steal a curling feather.

  "Galahad?" Her gaze widened. She glanced from horse to man and back again.

  Quinn simply beamed, as though immensely pleased with himself.

  The horse succeeded in stealing a plume from her hat. Only Galahad would be so bold. Or had such a liking for her hat feathers.

  Tears welled up in her eyes as she took the horse's head in her hands and laid her uninjured cheek against his velvety soft muzzle. The stallion snorted and blew the feather out, where it drifted in a slow spiral to the ground.

  "How? Davie said he had been sold."

  "He had. To me." Quinn's smile widened so far it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  She just stared at him. Where on earth did he find the money? Neither of them had any resources to call upon, and she knew the ridiculous price the baron had set upon the Arab. "But you are as poor as I am."

  He reached out and scratched the stallion's neck. "The night you were unwell, I went to Covent Garden and the gaming tables. As an exceptionally beautiful and wise woman once said, I might not have a fortune or a title, but I am rather talented."

  "You won him." Her gut instinct had been correct; he was a talented man. Now she itched to discover just how talented he was with those hands.

  "Yes, from the pockets of William St John. Consider Galahad just a tiny sliver of reparation for what he did to you."

  "Why would you do this for me?" A tear rolled down her cheek. Events of the last two days crashed over her and she struggled to breathe. Like someone in deep water who could not swim, she needed something steady to cling to in the maelstrom. Something solidly constructed like Quinn.

  He reached out and, cupping her neck, drew her to him. With his forehead pressed against hers, he whispered the words, "Because your dream meant so much to you. I would do whatever it to
ok to help it come to fruition."

  Then he leaned back and stroked her face, lifting away the tears. "Why didn't you tell me Hoth was holding the deeds to your house? I wondered why you were so intent on going through with the meeting."

  She drew a ragged breath. "You kept telling me I shouldn't have to sell myself. If I owned the house, I would have enough capital to make that true. It was a step in achieving my dream."

  Quinn pulled her into his arms. Ianthe laid her head against his chest and listened to the steady thrum of his heart. Today the beat was a horse running free. That was her now—free. She could do as she wished, for her dreams were made real. Once she sold the townhouse she would be able to purchase a small farm.

  "Now your dream can come true," he said. "But there is something I need to confess. I believe my mare is in season and there may have been relations between her and Galahad last night."

  She laughed. His words added the humour she needed to lighten her heart. "You're mad. Two fast, hot horses will not produce rideable offspring."

  "Yes, they will." He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way up her throat. "Their foal will be the fastest racehorse England will ever see. You wait."

  Another laugh bubbled in her throat as he stroked his tongue along her skin. "A thousand kisses say it will kill you first."

  "Wolves are very hard to kill, so I'll take that bet, and add it to the million kisses you already owe me. Although since according to you my life is in danger, perhaps I need to think of some way to claim a large portion of my kisses in one swoop." He continued his kisses and she arched her neck to give him better access.

  "Well, you have a little time yet. The foal needs to be born, weaned, and broken first. That gives you three years, maybe a bit more?" But she was quite agreeable to him claiming as many kisses as possible and as frequently as he liked.

  He took her hand, and pressed her knuckles to his cheek. "There is something personal I would ask you, first. A question that needs to be voiced."

  His brown gaze turned so serious, all his emotions worn plainly on his face. Ianthe could hardly draw air into her lungs; his love overwhelmed her as it washed over her. Their engagement had been a ruse to validate Quinn's right to call out Hoth for touching her. It was never meant to end in marriage, but was merely a legality that had to be satisfied so Quinn didn't find himself with a noose around his neck for shooting a peer. She loved him, that she knew, but she didn't want to sell herself into marriage. No matter how much her heart swelled at the idea of being with him, a part of her needed freedom like a fish needed water.

  But how could she refuse him? It would tear his heart out anew, even as the idea of marriage would destroy her. Had they come this far to see their dreams falter now? "Quinn, I—"

  He placed a finger to her lips, stopping her protests. "Hear me out, please. Trust, remember?"

  Lord, it was so hard. She wanted to stop him before he uttered words that would wither and die between them. Somehow, she managed to hold her silence, and give a shaky nod of her head.

  "Would you, Ianthe Wynn, do me the great honour of being my business partner?"

  "Pardon?" The refusal died on her tongue. She had expected a marriage proposal, not a business one. Her heart plummeted to her feet. Had he changed his mind? Did he no longer want to spend his life with her?

  He must have read her chaotic thoughts. He stroked his thumb along her lip. "Never doubt that I want to spend eternity with you but I know you value your independence. I do believe Aster commented that marriage is not a necessity, and how we arrange our life together is our business and not society's. We shall carve out our own future. I would have you as my partner, equal in all things, as we embark on breeding remarkable horses for aristocrats with deep pockets."

  How was it possible that this young man, whom many dismissed as not knowing his mind, could so accurately read hers? He offered her the one thing that meant the world to her: freedom. He extended equality, while building a future with her.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and he lifted it away on a fingertip. "Yes. I would be your business partner. In return, I offer you the one unsullied thing I possess: my heart."

  "You were never sullied, not in my eyes. Such things are in your past, Ianthe, but I will be the only man in your present and future."

  "I love you." She said those three little words and gave him all she was, and all she ever would be.

  He kissed her, claiming her mouth while pulling her into the empty stall next to Galahad. Inside, he walked her backward until she was pressed into a corner. All the while, he continued his gentle assault on her lips. The stallion blew out a bored snort and turned his back on the couple to return to his hay.

  "What are you doing?" she murmured as desire raced through her body and set her senses afire. Could she ever get enough of him? Even now, an empty ache took hold, a physical pang that had her squeezing her thighs together.

  "It's been a very hard week," he said, and with his hands on her waist he ground his hips into her.

  She gasped at the bolt of heat that shot through her core as his arousal pressed against her skirts. He was right—it had been a very hard week, full of gentle teasing from his kisses as he aroused her mind. The ache in her body latched onto what it needed — Quinn. She was no maiden mare who needed prolonged, gentle teasing for a first coupling. She was a woman who knew exactly what would satisfy her hungry desire. A week of foreplay was quite sufficient. "I need you, Quinn. Now."

  He reached down and gathered up the hem of her skirt as her fingers wrestled the buttons on the fall of his trousers. He rained kisses on her throat, sucking the skin at the base of her neck, but avoiding the bruises.

  "I feel I should point out, this will not be representative of my usual thorough performance," he groaned as her hand found him.

  Ianthe wrapped her fingers around his hot flesh and teased his tip. Through gritted teeth, Quinn bunched her skirts around her waist and lifted her, his hands under her buttocks as he pushed her into the corner of the stall.

  "Is that a polite way of saying this will be a hard and fast ride?" Lord, she hoped so, because she was about to expire with longing for him. It was as if the fire he had lit in her body that day in the parlour had reignited and she burned for him.

  "Yes. Unless you would rather wait?" He teased her, rubbing her entrance with each roll of his hips.

  She moaned and arched her back. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she tried to urge him closer, destroying herself as he slid through her sensitive flesh. "Now, Quinn, please, or I shall be forced to find my spurs and possibly a whip." She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs.

  "A hard ride it is, then, miss." With a deep chuckle, he plunged into her body, driving at her with furious strokes that threw her mind up to the morning sky.

  With her arms around his strong back, they were as close as two people could be. She revelled in his power, his strength, and his love for her. As he nipped at the sensitive skin by her ear, her world exploded and shattered into an array of glistening shards. She cried out as Quinn buried his face in her neck and groaned. Her arms tightened around him as they rode their release together. As Ianthe drifted down from on high, she gazed on the fragments of her former life, each piece a part of who she was and the events that shaped her. Then she gathered them to her and reformed them into a new life.

  One where a dream came true.

  30

  Quinn

  * * *

  Quinn rode behind Aunt Maggie's large travelling coach as it rumbled up the drive of the Bethlehem Hospital. Ianthe rode at his side on Galahad; the stallion kept trying to step closer to snuffle at his mare. Though tired, Ianthe seemed to glow with happiness and, he hoped, satisfaction. They had barely slept the previous night. Once they made it to her house, he had swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, to squeals of delight from Sarah. They didn't emerge from her bedroom until the sun was well in the sky the next day, and he found Perkins had moved what
few belongings he possessed from Aunt Maggie's house to the bedroom down the hall.

  He also completely forgot he was supposed to attend a debriefing at Aunt Maggie's but figured everyone knew what they were doing. Aster and Hamish, their pack leaders, had everything in hand and with legalities satisfied, he didn't face any ramifications for shooting Hoth.

  Quinn found he now had a valet, and Perkins made him sit still for the closest shave ever. As the cut-throat razor stroked over his skin he held his breath, too scared to draw air into his lungs, in case the fiendishly sharp blade nicked an artery. At that point Quinn decided to keep quiet about the wolf's fur problem that needed Perkins's magic touch, in case he decided to solve that issue by shaving the wolf as well.

  Shave over, Perkins then tied a knot in his cravat so tight that he suspected if he wriggled he would cut himself on it. Admittedly, the shave was worth it when Ianthe stroked her face next to his and murmured in his ear, "That would feel divine on my inner thighs, and I wouldn't have stubble rash."

  He would have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bedroom to test out just how close Perkins could shave his cheek if it weren't for the fact the others were waiting for them, with a rather sombre task to perform.

  He dismounted and reached up for Ianthe. "I love you," he whispered as she slid down his body in a manner that made him bite his tongue. There was something about a woman who knew exactly what she desired that seemed to amplify his own need.

  "You can show me again later," she murmured, eyes downcast as she played the coquette just for him.

  With a wicked smile on her lush lips, she linked arms with Aster and the women walked up the path to be swallowed by the hellish building. He turned to face the others. Hamish lounged against the smart curricle. Ewan stood nearby, and the two were engaged in a discussion.