A Gentleman ’Til Midnight

by Alison Delaine

  * * *

  IT WAS A full twenty minutes before Katherine had the heart to tear Anne away from her friend and send her upstairs with Miss Bunsby. Something was wrong. Very wrong. When James told them what day they’d left London, there was no doubt they’d hardly stopped at all.

  “What’s happened?” she demanded the moment Anne was out of hearing.

  “Millicent and India have taken the Possession,” William told her. “Slipped out of the Thames in the dead of night.”

  An invisible hand closed over her throat. “That’s impossible.”

  “Apparently it’s not,” James said flatly. “We went to your house after hearing the Possession was gone and found no trace of Miss Germain,” James said. “We checked with Cantwell, and India was gone, as well. Snuck away somehow, and in her infinite wisdom, left a note. Wouldn’t be treated like a child, or something to that effect.”

  William snorted.

  “That is quite an offense,” Lord Deal commented gravely.

  Suddenly things made sense—why Millie had been so adamant about not feeling well enough to travel, why she had begged to stay in London instead of accompanying them to Dunscore. With her face so pale and yellowed with bruises, it had been impossible to deny her. Katherine had allowed her the use of the London house indefinitely.

  But indefinitely had lasted only as long as it had taken Millicent to put her plan into action. Katherine’s hands began to tremble, and she made fists to keep them still. “You must go after them,” she said to William. “I will commission a ship in Edinburgh and pay for a crew.”

  A gleam came into William’s eye. “An easy guess where they’re headed.”

  Malta. But what India planned to do with the Possession while Millicent tried to gain admittance to that surgical school was anyone’s guess.

  “It’ll be a damned business, bringing up Cantwell’s daughter on charges,” Lord Deal said.

  “There won’t be any charges,” Katherine said. Her thoughts churned, struggling to make sense of this development. “I only want the Possession returned.”

  “Aye, Captain,” William said.

  She did want it returned. Right now. Today. This instant. It belonged to her, with her, where she could see it every day and hold on to its promise. It made her who she was.

  “What of the committee? Has there been any word?” she asked.

  “I daresay it’s too soon to expect any,” James said. And then he turned to Lord Deal. “Have there been any developments here?”

  He was windblown from the ride, looking more like a sea captain than he had for weeks, and it was hard to keep from staring. A lock of his hair curled over his forehead. A shadow of beard roughened his jaw. Those calculating, sea-captain eyes watched her carefully.

  She wanted to throw her arms around him the way Anne had done.

  Instead, she reached for Lord Deal’s arm. “Indeed, Henry and I have just been discussing the arrangements.”

  James’s tight lips curved. “Have you.”

  Lord Deal cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. We have indeed been discussing a variety of possibilities—attempting, naturally, to think of some gentlemen who would be appropriate and, of course, to identify those whom Lady Dunscore finds objectionable.” He patted her hand. “And I do believe we have identified at least one of the gentlemen in question.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT, a knock sounded at the door of her bedchamber.

  The sound caught Katherine standing with her hands pressed against the cool, bare stone of her bedroom wall. In the quiet room with her palms against rock, she could almost feel Dunscore’s heartbeat. It pulsed through her as though they were one.

  She ignored the knock and let her hands fall. Went to stab at the fire, watching the sparks fly, calling up memories of her life—her real life. The one she’d built herself, not the one of her girlhood fantasies. William, grinning in the sunshine while porpoises played in the water. Young rigger Danby, dangling from the main yard after slipping from the footrope and nearly causing her to succumb in a fit of apoplexy in the process. That hot rush of anticipation that gripped her when she sighted a corsair xebec through her glass.

  The sound of Anne’s screams above the cannonfire, and the knowledge that one small mistake—one single misstep—could change her life forever. Or end it completely.

  Jab. Jab. She attacked a burning log until it fell into crumbling, hot orange pieces. That was why she was giving up her freedom. For Anne’s sake. And marrying Lord Deal was the most tolerable answer.

  There was a second knock, more insistent this time.

  It is the answer only because you refused a proposal from the man on the other side of that door.

  Proposal? Ha. What she had refused was a lust-drunk misjudgment that had tumbled from his lips in a moment of passion.

  A third knock, and this time, the hushed bark of her name. She unlatched the door and opened it a crack. “You’ve already received all the hospitality I plan to offer, Captain.”

  “Open the bloody door.” The hallway was nearly dark, but the glow from her room lit the murderous expression on his face. He stood there in only his breeches and shirt—no waistcoat, no stockings, no shoes. Nerves tangled in her belly even as her ire rose.

  “Devil take you,” she said, and started to shut the door, only to have him shove it open. “Get out!” she hissed, fearful of waking anyone.

  “Are you engaged to him?” he demanded.

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Everything about you is my concern.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and crushed his mouth on to hers. The shock of instant fire in her blood had her gasping against him even as she tried to push him away, but he was immovable and her parted lips only gave his tongue free entrance into her mouth. He smelled like spicy soap and tasted of temptation. She felt him try to push the door closed and she tightened her hand around the latch to prevent him. He turned her back against the door and used their bodies to push it shut.

  “Leave,” she gasped, and cursed him. He only kissed her more savagely, and even her outrage could not fight the fire that tore across her skin. She shoved at him and pulled him closer all at the same time, and suddenly it was like the first time they’d touched in her cabin aboard the Possession, except this time there was no reason to stop.

  “I ask you again,” he said harshly. “Are you engaged to Deal?”

  “I shan’t reveal the intimacies of my relationship with Henry.” His face was so close her lips brushed his when she spoke.

  James barked a laugh. “Intimacies.” He kissed her again, deeply. “That man has as much desire to be your lover as he does to tup a wild boar. He looks on you quite as his own granddaughter.”

  She couldn’t force him to leave, but she could goad him. “Perhaps. But he’s agreed to help me nonetheless.” She paused. “In every way.”

  This time James’s kiss was ruthless. She knew she’d said those words to push him over the edge of control, so he would make love to her and leave her no choice but to give in to what her body desperately wanted. He did not disappoint. He tore away her nightdress, and as his hands took possession of her breasts she imagined how it would be if things were different. She imagined him lifting her gently and carrying her to the bed.

  Instead, he pinched her nipples and bit her neck. She swallowed a scream of intense pleasure and fisted her hands in his shirt. Ran her palms down his solid chest, his hard stomach, to the thick bulge at the front of his breeches. Impatiently he worked the placket and freed himself. He was hot—satin and iron in her hands. She stroked his length with both hands and he groaned. She loved the power her touch had over him and she stroked him again and again while he worshiped her breasts, suckled her already-puckered nipples, molded her flesh
in his hands.

  But then he moved lower, out of her reach, burning his mouth across her belly, pushing her legs apart with his hands.

  She balked, but he was having none of it. He dipped his tongue into her navel and drew a hot, moist line with it to the top of her woman’s hair, as though he was going to—

  Oh.

  She gasped when his tongue found her slit. His hands held her in place, urging her legs apart. Letting her thighs fall open while he tasted her most secret places was an act of submission she almost couldn’t bear—there was nowhere to hide. His tongue feasted on her pleasure spot and found her entrance, thrusting inside. He found another pleasure spot there—one she hadn’t known existed.

  Her control fled. She strained her legs wide, submission forgotten, trying to push herself closer to that wicked tongue. Pleasure ripped through her in breathless convulsions. He made an inarticulate sound against her flesh as her body clenched hard, hard, hard in release.

  He stood up, and she felt his erection against her.

  Already she wanted the rest of him. “I don’t think I can stand,” she whispered.

  “I have no intention of letting you try,” he rasped against her ear as he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me, Katherine.”

  She did, and cried out into his kiss when he entered her in one thick stroke. He turned with her in his arms and carried her to the bed with their bodies joined, hiking one knee onto the mattress as he laid her down.

  His eyes lit with unholy fire. “I don’t want to be outside you even long enough to shed my clothes,” he told her fiercely, already finding a rhythm, thrusting long and deep. She worked the buttons on his shirt, desperate to touch him the way she hadn’t been able to in her coach.

  After a moment he cursed. “Damn these breeches,” he growled, and withdrew from her completely to strip them off and yank his shirt over his head. His full erection glistened with her own moisture. In a heartbeat he fell over her and pierced her again, stretching her, filling her, sliding deep.

  It wasn’t enough. She returned his kiss madly, running her hands down his back, digging her fingers into his pumping buttocks, tilting and lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. He made an inarticulate sound against her mouth and rolled with her so she straddled him, with her hair spilling over them and his hands grasping her hips as he thrust up, up, up. Restless need coiled inside her, tightening, building. He lifted his head and caught her right nipple with his teeth, sucking hard, and her release exploded violently. Every intimate muscle convulsed around him as he kept thrusting, pushing, until finally she felt him let go, too.

  Her body was still shuddering when he rolled them back and lay with his full weight on top of her and his length still buried in her. He pressed hot kisses to her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. She hooked her legs around his as if, somehow, it would pull him closer.

  He lifted his head and looked hard into her eyes. “Did you really believe,” he breathed raggedly, “that I would sit idly by and allow you to marry another man?”

  Her pulse leaped. With his body buried in hers, all her defenses were down. But something had caught her eye that was impossible to miss: a simple necklace of twine and beads circling his neck.

  She ran her finger along the beads. “You still wear it.”

  He searched her face, her eyes, and said nothing. Suddenly she wanted to cry. She traced the curve of his lips, and he caught her fingertip in his teeth. “And you have fresh bruises,” she said.

  “Your guard dog is nothing if not tenacious. Apparently someone told him that I compromised you.” The corners of his eyes creased, and he arched a brow. “You surprise me, Katherine.”

  “Phil waylaid me the moment I returned from the hearing.” And she was going to get an earful about her loose tongue.

  “With your hair falling down and your lips red and swollen.”

  “I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “I would imagine not.” He kissed her again. Deeply. Thoroughly.

  Her tongue trembled with things she wanted to tell him—things she didn’t know how to put words to. Even if she could find the words, she wasn’t sure she would speak them.

  You fill me. Not just physically. He filled her heart. Her breath.

  “William should not have hit you,” she said between kisses.

  “I deserved it. I should never have let you out of my sight.” With his elbows braced on either side of her, he framed her face in his strong hands. “Understand me well—I do not intend to do so again. God, Katherine—” He breathed the words against her mouth, and she looked into his eyes. They were so beautiful, so green, and filled with the fierce possession of a man who had what he wanted.

  What if...

  She gripped his solid buttocks and urged him closer, as though it was possible for him to be even deeper inside her than he already was. As though she could have more of him. He groaned and held her even more tightly.

  “James,” she whispered, wanting to hear his name on her lips. Her own name echoed back on his breath.

  What if...

  She threaded her legs through his and pressed her mouth to the cords of his neck while he held her as though she were the only woman in the world.

  He’d made it clear he wanted her for himself, and now she felt herself falling, tumbling out of control.

  What if she let herself surrender?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THEY SPENT THE night making love. Even after James fell asleep pressed against her back with his hand on her breast, Katherine lay awake with her body rippling and pulsing with sensation. The musky blend of James’s spice and the heady scent of their lovemaking filled every breath. His breathing came deep and even in the darkness, while invisible stones of truth piled up and crushed the air from her lungs.

  In the early morning half light she slipped out of bed, found her discarded nightdress and went to the window. Offshore, two ships slowly rocked with the waves, anchored in the bluish-gray mist.

  There were places in her heart that had surrendered without awaiting the command.

  She closed her eyes and saw his face, drunk with desire and emotion as he sank himself into her. The memory of it shuddered through her. Only half of their lovemaking had been a quest for sexual pleasure; the other half had been a desperate attempt to crawl inside each other’s skin, as though—as though this fierce yearning inside her chest couldn’t be satisfied by something as simple as the stroke of his body.

  She was falling in love.

  The thought made her shiver. It couldn’t be love. Love would be too...binding. It would make her too vulnerable.

  The solid bed didn’t creak, so she didn’t realize James had gotten up until his voice sounded behind her. “Dreaming of better days?” he asked softly, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  She trembled beneath his touch. Had he always been capable of such gentleness? Of course he had. It had been evident enough in his relationship with Anne. “They’ll be weighing anchor soon,” she said of the ships.

  Surrender...

  “Yes.” His hands were a whisper on her skin, brushing her hair aside. “Out with the tide.” He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck and shoulder, soft and sweet.

  “Headed for the West Indies, perhaps. Or the Levant.”

  “Or Sunderland.” He laughed quietly, running his hands down her arms. He stood naked behind her, solid and strong. If she were a different kind of woman, it would be so easy to lean on him. To let him take care of her.

  “How do you suppose Millie and India are faring?” she asked.

  “That depends on the crew they’ve hired. But they’ll be no match for William.”

  “No.” She watched the ships offshore and imagined the Possession there, empty and waiting.

  He pressed more lazy kisses to
her skin. Found a sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “Dunscore is magnificent, Katherine,” he whispered. “Frozen in time. Every time I enter the main hall, I expect to see a group of knights strategizing for battle. It would make an excellent fortress.” Low and teasing against her ear, he added, “Or pirate’s lair.”

  “Hush,” she scolded, smiling a little. “It would make a terrible pirate’s lair. The coastline is flat for miles. Nowhere to hide the ship.”

  “Ah, well. A retired pirate’s lair, then.”

  A retired pirate and a retired naval captain. She craved his presence the way some men craved strong drink. She wanted to see him laugh, hear him talk, watch him lift Anne into the air. “I’m not a pirate,” she reminded him.

  Another kiss burned her neck, and another. “Please—allow me my fantasies at least occasionally,” he said against her skin.

  She had her own fantasies. She imagined standing at the potting bench with James, showing Anne how to poke her fingers into tiny pots of soil and plant seeds. Walking the beach with Anne between them, stopping to pick up stones and shells and little crabs that would pinch Anne’s fingers and make her squeal.

  “Is Croston anything like Dunscore?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Croston is a modern monstrosity, a mere hundred and fifty years old, give or take a decade or two. Built by my great-great-great—” he paused “—great-grandfather.”

  “But certainly you love it.”

  “I suppose I do. Haven’t spent any time there since I took the title, though. Been at sea the entire time.”

  He must have looked magnificent standing on the deck of a gigantic frigate with his uniform gleaming in the sunshine. She didn’t know that man at all, but she knew another—a swarthy, square-jawed sailor holding his face to the sun while the sea breeze played idly with his hair. “Do you miss it at all?” she asked. “The sea?”

  “No.” His hands caressed delicious circles on her shoulders and arms, and she felt him press his face into her hair. “Maybe a little,” he amended. “The sea air doesn’t smell the same from shore.”