Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Texas Ranger's DaughterHaunted by the Earl's TouchThe Last De Burgh

by Jenna Kernan

  There, where his hand stroked her woman’s flesh, delving gently between the hot damp folds. He rubbed and caressed until she cried out in frustration. He slipped one finger inside her, then another.

  ‘So hot,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘So tight and wet and ready.’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed in wonder at the erotic touch on her most secret place that only seemed to make the tension increase to unbearable proportions.

  ‘Do you like this, Mary?’ he breathed in her ear, swirling his tongue in that sensitive place, nuzzling into her neck, kissing and sucking until she wasn’t sure which touch was driving her more mad. ‘This story between us.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes,’ she said louder when he didn’t respond.

  ‘Do you want to find out what happens in the end?’

  ‘Yes.’ Of course she did. How could she not? He started withdrawing his fingers and she closed her legs tight, trapping his hand and felt an astonishing rush of pleasure. She moaned at the deliciousness of it.

  He muttered something under his breath. ‘Relax, sweeting. Let me come over you.’

  The words made no sense, but he pressed with his knee, pushing her thighs apart, then when she parted her legs he settled his hips between them, his chest rising above her like the torso of a god, bronzed in firelight, his face strained with some sort of effort.

  She glanced down between them and saw that the hard ridge of flesh pressing into her mons was his male member, thick and aroused, its head gleaming darkly where the firelight caught it.

  She sucked in a breath.

  He didn’t move.

  The restless inside her, the needs he’d stoked, rose up to claw at her insides.

  ‘Bane,’ she pleaded. ‘The end of the story.’

  ‘It comes at a price,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Marriage.’

  ‘What?’ She shook her head, thinking to clear her hearing.

  ‘A promise of marriage, or this ends now. I won’t ruin you, Mary.’

  ‘You can’t ruin a schoolteacher,’ she protested, trying to think.

  He rocked his hips and sent another pulse of pleasuring ripping up from her belly. She writhed, trying to bring him closer, to ease the torment.

  ‘If you want this, you will promise to be my wife,’ he said softly. ‘Agree. Or we are done here.’ He started to move, lifting himself away with a grimace of pain, but there was no doubting the inflexibility of his decision.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed. And the rush of happiness was almost as painful as his sensual torture. She would have her children, her home and her husband. She wouldn’t have love. Not from him. But she had never expected love at all. And her children would love her. And she would love them. And cherish them.

  ‘I didn’t hear you,’ he said, his breathing harsh and ragged.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s no going back,’ he warned. ‘No changing your mind in the morning. You will be my wife.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, proudly, more confident than she had been in years. ‘Yes, I will be your wife.’

  ‘Thank God,’ he breathed and his arm shook as he held himself up on one hand as the other reached between them and guided his hot flesh into her. Large, intrusive, pushing and stretching, while his face contorted with effort as if he was holding back. And then she felt it. Something stopping him. Her maidenhead.

  ‘This might hurt,’ he warned gently.

  She wanted to laugh at the thought of the pain she’d endured these past few weeks. How could this be that bad? She nodded instead.

  He thrust forwards slowly with a low groan and held still.

  A pinch of pain caught the breath in her throat. She froze. He froze. They stared at each other, not daring to move.

  But the pain soon faded to a memory and all she could feel was him inside her body, large, hot, pulsing.

  It felt good. She shifted her hips and felt a stab of pleasure.

  He groaned and rocked inside her, small little movements at first, matching the pulse that beat inside them both. It felt delicious. Deliriously so. But not nearly enough.

  And then he was kissing her mouth, suckling on her breasts and the tightening that had relaxed started all over again. Worse than before. His hips drew back and plunged forwards, the rhythm steady at first, then increasingly wild, and she could see darkness at the edge of her vision. Blackness beckoned.

  A fall into the void.

  Terrified, she resisted, her muscles clenching tight as her body strained towards it and her mind pulled her back.

  ‘Let go, Mary,’ he whispered in her ear. A devil tempting her into the abyss. ‘Let it happen,’ he said. ‘You will be fine. I promise.’

  He reached between them and pressed and circled on that tiny nub buried deep within her folds above their joining. Too much pleasure. Too much sweet pain. She could not hold on.

  And she let the darkness take her.

  Flew apart. Shattered. And it wasn’t dark. It was brilliant with blinding light. And she was falling into bliss.

  In a state of languid floating, she felt him tense. Heard his soft deep cry and cushioned his shudders with the cradle of her body. Gave him the same gift he had given her.

  His lips found hers and he held himself on trembling arms. Kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids. ‘So grand, lass,’ he said in accented tones. ‘So damned grand.’

  He collapsed at her side, curling around her protectively.

  Awed, she stared at the man who would soon be her husband. Handsome. Strong. Terrifying. She’d agreed to wed him based on instinct rather than intellect. He’d forced her to say yes. Even so, a sense of gladness filled her heart. It wasn’t a love match. And it was better that way. Less chance for hurt. But they would each gain much of what they wanted from the arrangement.

  As long as he gave her children, she could be happy. On that thought, bliss claimed her and she drifted on what felt like warm currents, only to awake a few minutes later being carried.

  He lay her down on his bed.

  She started to sit up. ‘I can’t stay here. The servants will find me in the morning.’

  ‘We won’t be the first couple to anticipate our wedding vows.’ The hot, dark look he sent her way as he pressed her back down on the pillows sparked yet another round of desire. She tried to resist its allure, the pull he exerted on her body and use her mind.

  ‘Betsy will be worried.’

  He slipped beneath the sheets and pulled her into his embrace, drawing her head to rest on his shoulder, her hand to drape over his chest. His heart was a strong steady beat in her ear, his skin warm, the scent of him, all dark tones in her nostrils. And her traitorous body warmed.

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘And what was she to be, when she discovered you gone in the morning?’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because I wouldn’t have to face her.’

  He chuffed a small laugh. It was an endearing sound. Amusement without mockery. ‘The servants know what goes on. They won’t comment, I can assure you. And you are not going back to your room. Not with so many

  avenues for you to escape me again. I won’t take that risk.’

  Risk. The word was like a cold rock dropped on her chest. She gulped in air. She was taking a risk, staying here with him. ‘About what happened at the mine...’

  He lifted his head to look down at her. ‘It’s over, Mary. There’ll be no more running away. You belong to me now. You swore it and I will not permit you to go back on your word.’

  Something he had said didn’t make sense. Idly, she placed the flat of her hand on his chest, felt the rough hair and the solid muscle beneath. Heard his quick inward breath as he sank back into the pillows. ‘Don’t do too much of that, sweetheart. I don’t t
hink you will be ready for me again tonight, and, as demonstrated, I don’t have a great deal of control when it comes to you.’

  Nor she when it came to him it seemed. But... Her brain tumbled like a well-oiled lock. ‘I didn’t run away at the mine.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Mary. I found you on the road, remember?’ The rasp was back in his voice.

  She rolled on her side, pushing away, so she could see his face, watch his reaction. ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  He raised himself up on his elbow and pushed the hair back from her face, staring down into her eyes. ‘And I am basing my judgement on experience, sweet. You tried to buy a ticket in St Ives. You walked the path on the cliff. And then there’s tonight. Why would the afternoon at the mine be any different?’

  ‘Because I say so.’ The look of doubt on his face stirred anger in her breast. ‘If I am to trust you, surely you must also trust me.’

  He opened his mouth to argue.

  ‘I do not deny those other occasions, but... Oh, what is the use?’

  She flopped over on her back and stared up at the canopy. He would never trust her. And she would never trust him. Because she knew what she’d heard. You stupid little fool. His words. Even if it wasn’t his voice. People sounded different under different emotions. It could have been him. Yet what could she say? Accuse him of trying to kill her now, when they seemed to have agreed to a truce? With their wedding in the offing there was no need for him to be rid of her. He’d have his title and his wealth.

  He leaned over her, turning her face towards him. ‘All right. Tell me.’

  She looked up into his eyes, at the frown, at the jaw already set in uncompromising lines, and knew that, having started down this path, she could not now back away. She had to say something. Come close to the truth, see his reaction.

  ‘I went exploring and got lost.’

  The frown deepened. ‘How could you get lost?’

  ‘I spoke to one of the boys, working further along one of the tunnels. Then I followed what I thought was candlelight.’

  His expression lightened. ‘And ended up outside?’

  She nodded. ‘I thought to go back to the entrance.’

  ‘On the road you were heading downhill. Away from the mine.’ He let go a deep sigh. ‘As I said. It’s over. Let us move forwards from here.’ He looked so disappointed she wanted to cry.

  ‘Someone pushed me down one of the old shafts,’ she blurted out.

  He sat bolt upright. ‘What?’

  Well, that certainly had his attention. She looked down at where his fist was bunching the sheets. ‘Someone shoved me from behind.’ Much as he had shoved her that day on the cliff, now she thought about it.

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  She looked straight into his eyes, held his gaze steady with her own. ‘That is what happened. That’s why I was heading away from the mine.’ The fear from that day rose up and tightened her throat. ‘I was lucky. My bonnet strings tangled with the ladder. I was able to climb out.’

  ‘Your bonnet?’

  He sounded incredulous. He would sound that way if he was the one who had pushed her. ‘Too bad for you I didn’t die,’ she said. ‘It would have solved all your problems.’

  ‘Too bad indeed,’ he said drily. ‘You tell a wild story, Miss Wilding. I am surprised you aren’t blaming your disappearance on sightings of a ghost or some sort of hobgoblin.’

  ‘A human hand pushed me, not a ghost.’ You little fool.

  He glared at her, his mouth a thin straight line. ‘Clearly I should not have let you go to the mine. You are not to be trusted to behave like a sensible woman and stay with your party.’

  ‘Interesting that you were not searching the tunnels, but rather were leaving for home.’ There, she had as good as voiced her suspicions.

  He frowned, his gaze searching her face. ‘I found you on the road.’

  ‘Bad luck for you, I suppose,’ she muttered and was surprised when he flinched. It seemed she’d struck a nerve. ‘Just like the near miss at the cliff and the lucky escape from the barrel. Marriage must seem a great deal more certain at this point.’

  The words hung between them like a sword waiting to strike a death blow.

  His face turned to granite. His gaze moved from hers and fixed off in the distance. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were the grey of a winter storm. ‘Your powers of deduction are truly astounding.’

  No denial. No claims of innocence. All her longing for one person in her life who would care about her balled into one hard lump in her throat. A burning painful blockage that no matter how hard she swallowed would not go back where it belonged in the deep reaches of her soul.

  Perhaps if he would just pretend to care, it would not feel quite so bad. She forced a bitter smile. ‘Even women are capable of logic when it stares them in the face.’ The husky quality in her voice, the grief she hoped he would not recognise, came as a shock. Not even Sally’s betrayal had left her with such a feeling of desolation.

  ‘If your logic leads you to the understanding that marriage to me is your best chance of survival, then I am glad.’

  She could not control the tremor that rocked her deep in her bones. The threat in his voice was unmistakable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Wharton will have quite a time of it, preparing your trousseau at such short notice,’ Mrs Hampton said the next afternoon, as they sat taking tea in the drawing room. ‘We should visit her first thing in the morning.’

  His lordship looked up from the letter he was writing. ‘Only a few things are required. A morning gown. A travelling dress. Send her a note. She has Mary’s measurements. We will visit a proper modiste in town after the wedding.’

  Mary glowered at the pair of them, tired of the way they decided everything between them. ‘I don’t need new clothes for a wedding no one but family will attend.’

  ‘You will need appropriate attire for the journey to London, however,’ his lordship said. He rose from his chair and went to the window to look out. It was the second time he’d done that in the space of an hour.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ she asked.

  He looked more than a little startled and if she wasn’t mistaken his colour heightened on his cheekbones. ‘Templeton. He said he would either come himself or send a message. I expected him yesterday.’

  ‘I do hope nothing bad has befallen him on the road,’ Mrs Hampton said, absently. ‘What about this one?’ she continued, holding up a fashion plate for Mary to see. A dark-blue military-style pelisse over a shirt with a ruffle around the neck. ‘It is all the crack according to the

  Assemblée.’

  ‘Too much frill,’ Mary said. ‘I prefer something simpler.’

  Bane went to the hearth and rang the bell. The butler shuffled in a few moments later. His face was impassive, but Mary felt sure his eyes were curious. All the servants must be talking about them spending the night together. ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Send word to the stables that I require Henry to take a message to St Ives.’ He glanced over at Mary and Mrs Hampton. ‘How soon can you have a list ready for the seamstress?’

  Mary put her teacup on the table beside her, rose and took the magazine from Mrs Hampton. She flipped through the fashion plates until she saw what she was looking for. ‘This one,’ she said, showing the older lady. ‘And this carriage dress.’

  Mrs Hampton reviewed her choices, then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes. You are right. You are a perfect height to carry these off.’

  A perfect height? No one had ever called her height perfect before and yet there was no trace of mockery in the other woman’s voice. ‘Then the matter is settled.’ She sent a glance of triumph at Bane.

  He didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘If you will excuse me, M
rs Hampton,’ she said, reining in her irritation, ‘I find I have run out of reading material. If you need me, I will be in the library.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Bane said.

  She smiled sweetly. ‘No need. I won’t be but a moment.’

  He gave her a look that said he was not prepared to argue. ‘No trouble at all.’

  She gritted her teeth. All morning he had been at her side, as if he expected her to try to leave the moment his back was turned.

  He clicked his fingers and his dog immediately came to its feet.

  ‘That animal should not be in the drawing room,’ Mrs Hampton sniffed. ‘Gentlemen leave their hunting dogs in the stables.’

  ‘My dog, my drawing room, my house,’ Bane said. He bared his teeth in a hard smile. ‘And no one in this house has ever suggested I was a gentleman.’

  ‘You are the earl,’ the widow said. ‘So now you must act like one.’

  Mary felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. ‘He is a very well-behaved dog. I do not mind his presence at all.’

  A mocking smile crossed the earl’s face. ‘I am pleased to hear it.’

  Now what had she said to provide him with amusement? Whatever it was she was not going to ask. Not when he was behaving like a shadow. Indeed, after their exchange of truths in bed she had half-expected him to avoid her altogether, since he thought her a liar.

  She strolled towards the door and he strode to open it for her to pass through. He bowed as she swept past. She couldn’t help notice just how elegantly he did so, or the way her heart fluttered. Dash it all, it was hard to be annoyed when he was being so charmingly attentive.

  At the library door, he moved around her to open the door, but remained, with his dog at his side, barring her way, looking down at her with those silvery eyes with an expression she could not read.

  ‘I am sorry if you find my presence wearisome,’ he said.

  Was that a note of hurt she heard in his voice? She felt an unwanted pang of guilt. She pushed it away. He was playing on her emotions.