Her street-taught suspicion warred with her inclination to trust him. He was rather fascinating, after all. He might be a fool for Chantal and he’d exhibited a certain unreliability, but he wasn’t cruel and he wasn’t dangerous.
Furthermore he’d apologized for his abandonment and in truth he had legitimately tried to see to her care. He’d even withstood her petty revenge in good humor.
What did she have to lose? Another low-paying sewing job with another theater troupe? Pomme was kind but the traveling life was hard and there was not a great deal to offer Evan here.
And . . . I don’t want to go back to my life just yet.
Not until she untangled the mystery of this strange and beautiful man.
Who is still holding my hand. In the dark.
He’d waited patiently while she decided, so she rewarded him with a small smile. “All right then, guv. Evan and I will go on with you tomorrow.”
He smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness that nearly took her breath away. “That’s excellent news! Thank you, Miss Filby.”
“T’ weren’t nothin’, guv.” She hoped he couldn’t hear how breathless she was.
He’d been truly decent and she’d been a vindictive shrew. Thinking about her revenge, she bit her lip and looked away. “Sorry about the singin’ bit. I didn’t know.”
He surprised her with a laugh. “More punishment for others than for myself, I expect.”
She couldn’t help a real smile at that. “That’s for certain, guv.”
Grinning as he gazed down at her, he squeezed her hand teasingly. “You made a splendid princess, however. I can’t get over your gift for mimicry. Chantal herself could not have done better.”
“Not at all, sir.” For all her resentment of Chantal, Pru could not disregard the woman’s talent. “Miss Marchant would have made ’em swoon.”
He widened his eyes laughingly. “But we made them cheer.”
“Oh, that.” She shook her head. “Folks do love a kiss.”
Oh, blast. Now she’d done it. She’d mentioned the bloody kiss!
Colin went still. The kiss.
“Right,” he said slowly. “I should not have done that tonight, on the stage.” His voice sounded rough, even to him. He softened it. “It was not right of me to manhandle you so. I don’t know what came over me, to tell the truth.”
She shook her head slightly. “It’s all right, sir. It were only a bit o’ playactin’.” She tried to discreetly pull away from him, backing away. “You didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He smiled but he did not release her. “Miss Filby, you are doing it again. This is my apology, is it not?”
She went still. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Now where was I?” He absently pulled her trapped hand closer as he gazed upward, pondering the stars. She stepped forward once, then again, pulled unwillingly. “Oh, yes.” He smiled down at her. “I wish to apologize for grabbing you and kissing you briefly onstage. I am mortified by my behavior. I regret it completely. It shall never happen again.”
In spite of her discomfort, the irrepressible Miss Filby couldn’t resist a slight snort. “It weren’t that brief,” she muttered.
Colin frowned. “Of course it was. It was scarcely a peck. Hardly worth apologizing for.”
She gazed at him cheekily, her lips quirked. “If you say so, guv. It bein’ your apology and all.”
“It was a very quick kiss,” he insisted. “A mere brush of the lips. Hardly a kiss at all, really.”
She tilted her head and raised one brow. “Of course, guv. Whatever you say, guv.”
“It was! Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled her close and dropped the same quick firm kiss upon those impudent lips.
Only it turned out Miss Filby was right. It wasn’t so quick after all.
Pru gasped when his hot mouth took hers. Yes. She’d teased him into it, unable to resist the temptation to see if he’d do it again. Now his lips were on hers, like fire and hunger, and her own longing exploded within her, a trap she’d laid for herself without knowing.
Yes. His lips were parted, his hot breath in her mouth, his tongue slipping inside, a welcomed intruder, greeting hers with the taste of him, strange and new yet familiar, as if she’d waited a lifetime to taste only him.
His big hands came up to frame her face, his long fingers driving into her hair, holding her in place while he slid his tongue in and out of her mouth, entering her, invading her, making her ache and shiver for something she’d only heard of.
Her cap slid free and her pins failed her, but she only felt released as her hair tumbled down warm over his wrists and hands.
His hot tongue took her again and again. The taste of him! Captive between his hands, her jaw opened, allowing him to delve deeply into her. She was stolen ground, conquered territory. Her borders surrendered and her knees dissolved. Somewhere in the shadows of her mind, she feared for herself. Then that cry faded away, forgotten in the heat and need and taste of him in her mouth.
Her heart galloped, fear and freedom and fantasy released within her like something wild. There was silk and warm linen in her hands. Her fingers slipped beneath his weskit, over his shirt. She needed to hold on, to hang on to something solid, to hold him as close as she could. Under his weskit, her hands traveled over his sides and up his hard back. Her mind recalled gleaming muscles rippling in the sun as she felt them play beneath her touch. Her mouth submitted to his invading tongue. Her thighs quivered and pressed together, the ache between them turning hot and wet and eager.
Yes. To hell with the past or the future. Right now she was here, in the dark, with this enigmatic man who apparently needed to kiss her as much as she needed to be kissed. The darkness covered them, sheltered them, barricaded them from the others.
From the world.
From their own doubts and fears.
Colin was unable to resist kissing her again and again. Her mouth was so sweet and soft and mysteriously giving. This was no play, no gambit to thrill an audience. She was open and vulnerable and madly enticing, all the more so for being rather endearingly awkward. Kissing her seemed as natural as breathing—as if he’d been kissing her for years yet as new as if he’d never kissed anyone before.
She clung to him ardently as he took her mouth with his tongue and he reveled in her eagerness. The solid wall of the wagon supported them as he pressed her back, moving his body into hers as if he’d never lived anywhere else. She gave like sweet taffy, her stance widening as he stepped between her legs, trapping her against the wall. He slipped his hand behind her head, protecting her from the splintering wood as he marauded her mouth again and again.
His cock, already swollen, hardened further at the taste of her, at the sound of her breathless sighs, at the heat and softness of her full breasts against his chest. He couldn’t help it. He pressed his rigid cock into her belly, the exquisite pleasure-pain of his trapped desire driving every thought from his mind but one.
Mine.
He needed to touch her, to be touched by her. He needed—
One hand slid from framing her face down her delicate neck. He paused as he felt her pulse throbbing as fast as his own. Then his touch passed over her collarbone and down. Her skin was warm and he knew its fairness would be flushed with desire.
He let his hand come to rest on the side of her breast. The rounded side filled his large palm and he gently pushed upward while his thumb found the point of her nipple.
It hardened in greeting, pressing ruby-hard through the barrier of her gown.
Stroke me, it said to his touch. Squeeze me. Reveal me.
Suck me.
Who was he to refuse a lady?
He began to kiss his way down her neck. She shivered in his hands and he felt her hot panting breath on his hair as he bent over her. Her hands clutched at his back, those clever hands . . . he had plans for those hands, just as soon as he had her naked and begging for him.
His own hand behind her head slipped dow
n the back of her neck and made short work of the tiny buttons at the top of her gown. He curled the fingers of his other hand over her neckline and pulled it lower, lower, following the path of it with his mouth. He kissed and sucked at her skin, marking the trail so he’d never lose it again.
At last, her nipple emerged from the snug neckline. Suck me.
Oh, yes.
He took that sweet point into his mouth and pulled gently at it, then released it to harden in the cool air. He felt her hands leave his back and dive into his hair, pulling his head close again.
Pru gasped and let her head fall back against the wagon. Hot, tugging, teasing pleasure swept her as he sucked her nipple to rigid hardness. She drove her fingers into his golden hair, pulling him close. Don’t stop. Don’t ever, ever . . .
His mouth left her breast and she let out a mewling sound she didn’t even recognize as her own voice. No matter, for he was only moving to the other nipple, which he’d revealed without her realizing it. New hot sweet pleasure-pain as he sucked one nipple and teased the other with his fingertips, rolling and squeezing gently. Her hands fisted in his hair as she whimpered in pleasure, her lower body rocking toward his in a rhythm she’d never known before.
Kiss me. Suck me. Touch me.
His hand—where had he come up with all those hands?—slid down beneath her hem, lifting it to reveal her calf and knee. He pushed her skirts up and lifted her knee high. She wrapped her leg about him obediently, clinging to his neck as he slipped his hand higher, over her knee, up her thighs—oh, heavens, her thighs were damp, so damp!—past the negligent barrier of her pantalets with their convenient opening, until his large, warm palm cupped her gently.
Yes. No. Yes. Oh, sweet heaven, yes.
She heard the words as if from far away. Were they in her fevered mind or had she said them out loud? She scarcely cared, for the result was a long hard finger sliding between her slippery folds, invading her, claiming her heat and her wetness and her aching, throbbing want for its own.
He lifted his face and kissed her again, a deep moan rising in his throat, his tongue invading, matching the slow, gentle thrusting of the finger that impaled her most secret, innocent tunnel.
She balled up her innocence and threw it over her shoulder, choosing instead to grind her pelvis into that hand, reaching for something, aiming her newly awakened senses at some unknown, unreachable goal . . .
She wanted . . . wanted . . .
In the nearby encampment, a woman laughed, a high, hearty sound that impacted into their panting, heated bubble of silence like a boulder into a pond.
Through Colin’s need-crazed haze, he heard Miss Filby squeak in alarm, felt her hands jerk out of his hair.
He flung himself away, stumbling backward, self-loathing throwing ice water onto the fire in his body. Bloody hell! What was wrong with him, assaulting the poor girl like some lust-crazed beast?
Bending over with his hands on his knees, he shook his head, desperate for clarity.
“I’m sorry, sir!”
Her words were noise, jumbled by his lust.
“I shouldn’t of—it weren’t—”
He held up one hand, begging for time. The roaring in his ears finally abated and he was able to straighten, though his cock still throbbed. He swallowed and prepared to apologize like he’d never before apologized in his life.
Miss Filby was gone.
CHAPTER 13
Her face flaming, her heart pounding, Pru rushed back to the central fire as if the pillaging pirates of the Black Kraken itself were after her. Unfortunately, when she reached it, her own outlaw thoughts were still skirmishing within her.
What had she done? What had he done? What sort of mad, impossible should-never-have-happened moment was that?
She’d never felt anything like his touch, his mouth, his body. She had the sneaking suspicion that until now, she’d never felt much of anything at all. She had an even larger suspicion that if she hadn’t squeaked at just that moment, she would now be finding out just what it was that had bulged so prominently into her belly.
Not that she was completely ignorant. Chantal, she-cat that she was, was as indiscreet as she was wanton. Pru had listened to more explicit tales than she’d ever wanted to hear about men and their wants.
Except in her innocence, somehow she’d never truly believed any of it. After all, it was all rather ridiculous, wasn’t it? The nakedness, the yelping, the ludicrous concept of . . . well . . . impalement.
Good heavens, it now appeared that Chantal had under-reported matters!
Shivering, feeling the aftershocks of unfulfilled desire jolting through her every time she tightened her thighs, Pru stood on the outskirts of the firelight, unable to continue into public view. It must show on her face. I kissed Mr. Lambert! The rest she frankly had no words for.
How could I let him do such things to me?
Let him? You would have begged for it if you hadn’t been past speech entirely!
She covered her heated face with her hands. Licking her lips, she tasted him on her, in her mouth, felt him inside her body still, felt his hot demanding mouth and his large hot hands . . .
How could something so earthshaking, so astounding, not be written across her features like a brand?
All she wanted to do was to crawl into someplace small and warm and safe and hide her flaming cheeks from the world, even if she weren’t able to hide her shocked and titillated thoughts from herself!
Her virtue had always been so precious to her, for it was the last single thing she had that she could cling to and say to herself, “I am a lady.”
Now doubt crept in like a thief, stealing away her peace of mind. Did a lady want to feel a man’s mouth on her breasts? Did a lady pine to know what roamed within his trousers?
“Ye must be right tired, pet.” A kind, knowing voice came from the dimness nearby.
Pru lifted her face and peered carefully into the darkness, then sighed with relief. “Yes, Mrs. Pomme. It’s been a full day, it has.”
“The night seems to be brimmin’ w’ goings-on as well, eh?”
Swallowing, Pru tightened her folded arms across her bodice. “Is it?” Her attempt at a casual tone was a complete loss.
Mrs. Pomme’s low chuckle was amused but without judgment. “I’ve got yer bairns tucked into the small wagon. There’s a pallet there for ye and one for yer gentleman. I put the little ones between, so no one will speak nothin’ of it. Folks all share when it gets cold-like.”
“Yes, thanks,” Pru said carefully. “That sounds right nice.”
“Off t’ bed w’ ye then. Ye’ll be able to fix yer silly little gig in town tomorrow and be back on yer way. Remember, the road don’t take kindly to them what misses their rest.”
Pru nodded and scurried off to the small wagon. When she crawled into her pallet next to Evan and Melody, she found that warm, quiet place she’d longed for. The warmth of the children and the soft, even sound of innocent childish snores were soothing and serene.
She only wished her own thoughts would be the same.
When Colin found his way to the wagon, directed by a very amused Mrs. Pomme, he climbed in to find that all three of the occupants were sound asleep. Relieved, he cast himself down on his own pile of blankets and threw his arm over his eyes.
Don’t think of her. Don’t remember the taste of her.
Don’t remember how she kissed you back, as if she wanted to eat you alive. Don’t remember how she parted for your hand, hot and ready and eager.
He’d experienced enough women to know that such intoxicating passion was extraordinary. She’d tossed aside every shred of her customary wariness and had responded to his mouth and his hands as if she wanted to do nothing else for the rest of her life.
Brilliant notion! Let’s haul her out of this wagon and get on with it!
Nonsense.
It had simply been an indiscreet moment. A bit of play. It wouldn’t happen again. It was simply that he’d still bee
n drunk with the heady power of his public success, nonsense play such as it was. He did not desire Miss Filby.
Oh, really? Did you forget and leave that sledgehammer in your trousers, then?
Well, obviously he was overdue for some release. But he didn’t desire Miss Filby especially.
He didn’t dare. Not if he meant to marry Chantal. And he did mean to make Melody his rightful daughter, no matter what. He could not allow Miss Filby’s earthy appeal to distract him from that mission! Tomorrow they must push on. The urgency of Melody’s predicament allowed for no such diversion!
Even so, the weariness of his body and the warmth of the children seeped through him, melting such firm thoughts of resolve.
Sleepily, Colin rolled onto his side, away from her, away from the children. It had been a night full of surprises. He wasn’t sure how he felt about some of them, but he was sure that right now, in this tiny, cramped wagon with an infant, a boy, and a maidservant, he was more content than he’d been in a very long time.
He closed his fist about that thought. He could still feel her heartbeat, he thought dreamily, like a trapped bird in his hand. It was the secret to her, he suspected. When he couldn’t see past the sharp retorts and prickly demeanor, he need only touch her there to learn the truth.
In the smooth descent into sleep, he smiled to think he would ever need to understand the inner clockworks of a servant girl.
CHAPTER 14
The next morning, there was very little need for Pru to speak to Mr. Lambert at all, thankfully. Between the bustle of getting the children up and fed, and the loading of the shattered curricle onto one of the carts, the two of them were much too busy to converse. They made do with nods and throat clearings and Melody’s bright chatter. All was managed very satisfactorily and they were soon on their way.
After many good-bye embraces and best wishes—surprisingly many of which were for Colin—the players waved them up the road.
Young Cam was to drive the cart to the next village, thankfully one large enough to have a smithy and a hostelry. After delivering their small party there, he would return to the encampment. Because of the success of the previous evening, the players had decided to wrest another night’s pennies from the locals.
Rogue in My Arms: The Runaway Brides Page 10
