The Kiss of Love (The Book of Love 6)

by Meara Platt

  She took off her shoes and stockings and was about to turn down her lamp when she heard a rattle of the doorknob and then a light knock at her door. She’d bolted herself in after Tom had stalked out. She and Belle had faced some very nasty coves trying to steal their Oxford perfume business, but dealing with Tom was almost worse. She’d fallen in love with him, and no matter what happened, whether for the good or the bad, she would never be able to stop loving him.

  “Honey, let me in,” she heard Tom whisper through her door.

  Would it be a mistake? He was a man in turmoil on every front and not in control yet of his quiet rage. But she knew he’d never do anything to hurt her, no matter how wild and unbound his pain.

  “All right.” If she was completely wrong about him, then she will have learned a harsh lesson. But it would relieve her of the need to reveal her secret to a man she thought she could trust. It would also relieve her of the pain of rejection when he decided she would not make a suitable countess.

  But one look at his eyes calmed her at once. He stepped in and closed the door softly behind him, but could not seem to speak yet. She understood the feeling. He had so much that needed to pour out of him, he couldn’t get it all out at once. He was still frustrated and angry. Hurt, worried. But what shone brightest in the magnificent depths of his dark green eyes was gentleness and wisdom. “Oh, Tom. Just take me in your arms.”

  He didn’t need coaxing.

  He wrapped her in his absorbing embrace, this beautiful way he had of holding her as though he needed to take her into his body and store her in his heart. She felt the same about him. She laughed when he lifted her up against his body and held her close so that her feet no longer touched the ground. He was a big man with a strong, hard body and muscled arms that seemed to have no trouble holding her up.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and on impulse, pressed her lips to the base of his throat. The gesture broke the dam that was holding him back, and all his feelings spilled out. “Honey, I love you,” he whispered and then closed his mouth over hers with a fervor that held no anger, only desire and hope and a promise of forever that she could not hold him to yet because he did not really know who she was.

  She had to tell him tonight. “Tom—”

  “No words yet, Honey. Give us another moment of just this.” He kissed her again, his lips hot and deliciously crushing against hers. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, and she suddenly felt a dozen fiery bursts within her body, like fireworks going off inside her in rapid-fire. It was no longer enough to feel the sensual thrust and tangle in her mouth. She wanted him inside her body.

  She felt the hard length of him against her hip and knew he had to be wanting her as badly as she wanted him. His fingers began to work deftly to undo the lacings at the back of her gown and then at her corset. His breaths came faster as he set her down to slip all of it off her, leaving only her chemise.

  But that slender scrap of fabric between them appeared to arouse him more than if her body was bared to him. Of course, the eyes made up whatever they could not see, she’d learned that in the book. Tom was probably creating a fantasy in his mind of what he wanted to see rather than what was actually there.

  He chuckled as he removed his clothes, leaving only his trousers on. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?” Oh, he looked like one of those perfectly formed Roman statues, their sculpted, muscular frames simply flawless in design. Was it any wonder women dropped at his feet? How could anyone overlook a big, beautiful body like his?

  “That I’m staring at your breasts, trying to see them through your chemise and lusting for what I know lies under there. But I can see them clearly, that sheer fabric hides nothing. I left it on you for the sake of your modesty.”

  “Obviously a false sense of security on my part.”

  “I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Honey. This night has stirred so many feelings in me. I expect it has done the same with yours. I won’t deny what I want to do with you now. The more I ache, the more I want to bury myself inside you and seek my release.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I came in here wanting to take you in anger, not to hurt you but to soothe my own pain. But you have this way of taming me. I can’t look at you and keep the rage inside me.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  He cast her a melting smile. “Not for an earl who’s earned the name Wicked Wycke. It’s frightening how much power you have over me. Even more frightening that I just admitted it to you. But there’s something in that impudent arch of your brows, the curve of your lips, the sweet pucker of your lips when you are thinking…as you are now.”

  She returned his smile. “I can’t help it. Although I doubt I’m thinking very clearly since we’re standing here partly naked, and my heart is in palpitations waiting for you to slip the chemise off me.”

  “I also came in here wanting to know your secret. Whatever it is, we’ll work through it together. I won’t abandon you, Honey. I promise.”

  His words were like a fist gripping her heart and squeezing it hard. “I won’t hold you to your word, Tom. I couldn’t do that to you. Nor can I tell you yet. Just two more days. Please be patient.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Patience is the one thing I sorely lack. I’m drowning in stormy seas, and you are the only sane, steady anchor in my life. I don’t want to lose you, Honey.”

  “Nor do I want to lose you.”

  “Then why hold back?”

  She almost gave in but knew it would only add to his dilemma. Adding this problem while he was already trying to sort out his mother’s declining health in the midst of a weekend party was not helpful. Also, she feared being overheard by one of his guests. What would happen then? When she shared the secret of her illegitimacy, it had to be to him alone, and they had to be free to discuss it outside of anyone’s hearing.

  Perhaps he would not see it as a problem, but Tom was not the sort to make rash decisions. He would need time to think about it and be ready to bear the consequences if her secret ever came out. As it was, for an earl of his standing to marry a commoner would cause ripples throughout society. To know she was less than a commoner…would the scandal ever die?

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” He appeared more resigned than angry, but he certainly was not pleased.

  “I will tell you, but only once your guests have gone.” She met his gaze, looked into his beautiful eyes, and wanted to cry. “Does this mean you’re not going to…we’re not going to…” She glanced down at her chemise.

  “You know so little about men.” He removed the pins from her hair and ran his fingers through her curls as they tumbled down her back. Then he drew her forward, cupping the back of her head as he gave her another scorching kiss. And then another. Her chemise had come off somewhere between the string of kisses and his carrying her to bed.

  Her heart was pounding through her ears so that she barely heard his intake of breath as they sank onto it together. “You’re beautiful, Honey,” he said, and then his hands were on her bare skin, big and rough, his touch exquisitely gentle as he cupped her breast, smiling as it filled his palm. He kneaded and teased it, then lowered his mouth and suckled. She gasped and clutched his shoulders, for she was on fire and had never felt anything so powerful before.

  His touch.

  The feel of his lips and stroke of his tongue across the tips of her breasts was arousing beyond description. But in the next moment, this fire he’d ignited within her turned molten and swept through her arching body.

  She tugged on his hair to hold him to her breast.

  “Easy, love.” He slid his hand downward, caressing her every curve, stroking the inside of her thighs. Ever so slowly, his fingers eased between her folds, sliding in and out, lightly at first, and then with greater speed and pressure, rubbing the pearl of her core until she was mindless and desperately crying out for something more.

  Her skin was so sens
itive to his touch, sensitive to the rough pads of his fingers caressing and probing her. Sensitive to the light stubble of his day’s growth of beard as he nuzzled her neck and suckled the tender spot behind her ear.

  Every pulse in her body came alive.

  A thousand sensations tore through her at once, like a fire raging out of control. She felt everything. The heat of his skin. The scent of him, clean and bearing hints of bergamot and sandalwood. The arousing weight of his big, hard body atop hers. The gentleness of his touch. The beauty of his sinew and muscle. The soft thickness of his golden hair. The love that shone in his eyes when he looked at her.

  She whispered his name.

  And held onto him with all her might and all her heart.

  He stroked her until she was wild and wanton. He kissed her mouth and throat and breasts, and held her, cherished, in his arms while fiery bursts of pleasure singed her soul and marked her as his forever.

  When she’d calmed, he shifted their positions, rolling her atop him. He put his arms around her and began to lightly stroke her hair. “Oh, Tom. I’ve never felt so wanton in my life.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Just wait.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean there’s more? Of course, there must be. And you?” She felt him against her hip and realized the pleasure taken had all been hers. “What…” She cleared her throat. “What about you?”

  “Not tonight. I’ll hurt you if I take you now. I’ll…” He emitted a pained laugh. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage for myself. I had better go now.”

  “Yes, I suppose you must.” She nodded. “I love you, Tom.”

  He kissed her with aching sweetness, then rose from the bed and tossed on his shirt. Wordlessly, he crept from her room.

  Only after he’d shut the door behind him did she realize he hadn’t responded to her. He hadn’t said it back. Did it signify anything?

  Or had he just realized he didn’t love her?

  *

  Tom returned to his room and stripped out of his clothes, his heart in too much turmoil to fall into an easy sleep. His body ached as well, for he was still aroused and in need of his own release, one he would not take with Honey just yet. A lone moonbeam filtered into the room, providing a thin sliver of stardust glow.

  He went to the window and drew his drapes so that his room knew only darkness. He fell into bed and took care of himself, needing that physical release, although it gave him little pleasure. Honey’s warm scent was on his skin, and the taste of her was in his mouth. His arms felt empty without her.

  He should have told her that he loved her. Yet, she had to know it. They both felt it, this deep recognition that sprang from their souls. The pull on his heart was raw and powerful, the tug for his body to fill hers an agonizing ache.

  Two days, he had to keep reminding himself. Soon it would be three. Still, only three days. His guests would all leave on day four. And then what? Would her secret, whatever it was, tear them apart?

  He couldn’t imagine anything doing so.

  He did not manage more than a few hours of sleep before Merrick entered his bedchamber and began fussing about. He drew the drapes, and ghastly sunshine flooded the room. “Damn it, you old hen. Sleeping earl here.”

  “The Duke of Remson is already awake. His daughter and her friends will be up soon, too. You ought to be there to send them off.”

  “Telling me what to do now?” Of course, Merrick was right. He cursed as he tossed off his covers and prepared to wash and dress. His first thought was of Honey, but he had no wish to disturb her, especially if she’d finally managed to fall asleep. He’d look for her once Lady Sarah was on her way back to London.

  He also needed to look in on his mother. Would she recall anything of last night? Would she remember what she did? He almost hoped she wouldn’t because it would horrify her and perhaps terrify her to think she was capable of cutting up Honey’s gowns.

  Once washed and shaved and dressed presentably, he checked on his mother, but she was still asleep, so he left without disturbing her. Honey was awake, he heard her stirring in her room and heard Lottie’s voice as she tended to her. Would Honey come down to breakfast? He supposed he’d find out soon enough. He wasn’t going to knock at her door now.

  He went downstairs to see who else was about.

  Lord Jameson and his cousin, Lady Phillipa, were seated at the breakfast table along with a few other lords and ladies. Merrick had mentioned that the Duke of Remson ordered his meal and those of his daughter and her friends to be brought up to their rooms. Good, then no one would have to endure their presence this morning. He looked forward to his footmen loading their trunks onto the duke’s carriage and was counting the minutes until they left.

  As he sauntered to the buffet, he was pleased to see the guests seated around the table were quite relaxed and cheerful as they planned what they were going to do today. He’d arranged for various entertainments, of course. But those would not fill up every hour. The structured activities to keep idle minds busy were no longer necessary now that Lady Sarah and her friends were leaving. They had put everyone on edge with their snappish ways. It came as no surprise to him that not a soul at the table felt a whit of remorse for their absence.

  Not even Lord Wrexham seemed put out.

  Good, he didn’t like to think his friend was a fool when it came to women.

  “We’re going riding, Wycke,” Jameson said, motioning to several other ladies and gentlemen around the table. “Will you join us?”

  “Not this morning.” He filled his plate and settled into his chair at the head of the table. A footman served him his usual morning coffee. “I had better see Remson safely off.”

  To his surprise, Honey walked in just then. The gentlemen around the table rose, no doubt thinking what he was thinking. Beautiful.

  Her gown was simple, a pale brown trimmed with a darker brown ribbon around the sleeves and collar. Not that he cared about the gown other than she looked stunning in it. Her hair was neatly drawn back in a simple twisted bun at the nape of her neck. As he watched her, the familiar ache began to build inside of him.

  He’d held her delicious body in his arms last night and needed her in his arms again.

  “Good morning, Miss Farthingale,” Lady Phillipa cheerfully called to her.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at everyone. “Please, do sit down. The sausages smell heavenly. I think I must fill up my plate with them.”

  Tom continued to watch her as she made her way to the buffet. He came to her side. “May I assist you?”

  Not that she needed help lifting the lids off the chafing dishes. Nor did he care that the others were grinning at him, for it was obvious he’d taken a liking to her. He glanced at his friends around the table. “I’ll have wickets set up for a rousing game of croquet by the time you return from your ride. I know how Lady Phillipa loves this fast-paced sport.”

  The pretty brunette laughed, for she was full of vigor and considered croquet an old woman’s game. “I’m not sure my heart can take such excitement. I think we must play ladies against the gentlemen. It will be so much more fun when we win. What do you think, Miss Farthingale?”

  “Sounds perfect. I love a challenge.”

  Jameson groaned. “Gad, it’s no contest. We all know you’re going to win, Phillipa.”

  She sighed. “Only because I can’t seem to help myself. I’m always so competitive. It isn’t as though I’m that good. No one else cares enough about it, so they just relax and enjoy the game.” She turned to the others. “I do hope you don’t find me insufferable.”

  “Not at all,” Lord Wrexham assured. “Afterward, I’ll challenge you, one on one.”

  Titters erupted around the table.

  Tom exchanged a smile with Honey, who still stood beside him. Yes, beside him was just where he wanted her for always.

  Phillipa arched an eyebrow. “You, Wrexham? And you think you can beat me? Very well. What is the winner’s prize?”
>
  “A kiss from the loser,” he said, earning more giggles from the ladies at the table.

  Phillipa laughed as well. “Very well, but the loser must also suffer a punishment. Nothing dire, this is all in good fun.”

  Tom was enjoying the lighthearted banter, a much-needed relief from last night’s tension. “Phillipa, what do you have in mind for poor Wrexham?”

  “What makes you so certain Lady Phillipa will beat me?”

  Tom chuckled. “Do you seriously believe she won’t? You both have horses here. Fine ones. How about loser mucks out the winner’s stall?”

  Phillipa clapped her hands. “Perfect. My horse has had digestive problems since we got here. Lord Wrexham will have ever so much fun shoveling it out.”

  Jameson groaned. “Enough, Phillipa. You’re ruining my breakfast.”

  As the others continued to chat and toss jesting barbs at each other, Tom spoke quietly to Honey. “How do you feel this morning?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. And you?”

  “Better for having you close,” he said and gave her hand a quick caress. “My mother was still asleep when I stopped in before coming downstairs. I didn’t want to wake her. I’ll go up once Remson and his entourage of peahens leave. The others plan to go riding. Will you go with them?”

  “No, I’m not very good on a horse.”

  “Suits me, then we’ll have a little time on our own to read.”

  Wrexham must have overheard the last remark. “Wycke, am I hearing you right? You’re losing your touch, old man. All the two of you plan to do is read?”

  Honey blushed furiously, but fortunately, she was facing the chafing dishes, so no one else saw the fire in her cheeks.

  Tom casually turned and leaned against the buffet, tossing his friend a grin. “A lot more pleasant than mucking out a stable stall, as you’ll be doing within a few short hours.”

  The others chortled and returned to chatting about their plans for the day.

  Tom remained standing beside Honey as she spooned a dollop of eggs onto her plate. Everything about her ravaged his senses. Her lithe, graceful body. The light, vanilla scent of soap that clung to her warm skin. Her smile. Her eyes and the way they glittered like starlight.