“Quid pro quo,” he said with a devilish slant to his lips that made her burn with excitement. Bending, he seized the hem of her nightdress and drew it up her body until her arms slid free.
At the inn, she had flinched at the thought of him seeing the ugly marks left behind from her captivity. But he had inspected each injury with a keen eye and had never once recoiled in disgust. Fury, yes. Disgust, no.
The backs of his fingers smoothed down her arm and then up again. They skimmed over her collarbone before curving toward the outer rim of her breast. There, he lingered, caressing every available inch until she thought she would scream.
“Cora.” The word whispered across her eyelashes. “Do you feel this?”
She nodded, unable to speak. I feel, I taste, I want… He finally took pity on her and cupped both of her breasts, plumping them high to meet his warm tongue.
Her back arched into his mouth, and she hugged his head to her bosom, rubbing her cheek against the silky skeins of his hair. She inhaled deeply of his distinctive fragrance and suppressed a shudder when he drew her nipple farther into his mouth. An unholy thrill pulsed through her, leaving her feeling raw with excitement. She pressed into him, wanting to meld their bodies into one, so that maybe the ache deep in her womb would be appeased.
His arms clamped around her bottom, raising her up for a more complete taste. Once he had his fill, he laid her over the soft counterpane.
She swept her arms above her head and elevated one knee in invitation. The position made her feel decadent and luxurious, beautiful and desirable. He stood at the side of the bed, devouring her with his black eyes. His chest expanded with each harsh breath, and his shaft, flaccid a few minutes ago, arced toward his navel again.
“Raise your other knee,” he said in a voice saturated with desire.
Cora hesitated. Until that moment, she had experienced no anxiety over the wicked things they had done to one another. But now, he wanted her open to him. Open to his inspection and laid bare to his sensual exploration. She did not know if she could give so freely of herself and then walk away later with her heart intact.
His hand skimmed the underside of her uplifted leg, making her inner folds clench when his fingers came to within mere inches of her most intimate parts. Moisture flooded her entrance, preparing for him. She shoved away her apprehension and did as he requested. She would deal with the consequences of her decision later. Much later.
The massive bed was high enough for him to bend at the waist and be able to stretch his body comfortably below hers. He hooked his arms around her hips and placed hungry, slow kisses along her inner thighs. Her legs began to quake, a tremor that became more violent with each attempt she strove for calm.
“Shhh, my sweet.” He crawled up her length to cover her lips, gentling her with his alluring kisses while his big hands kneaded her quivering muscles. “Shhh.” He coaxed her legs around his hips.
Before long, her stimulated senses overpowered the barriers of her mind. She became aware of the intimate press of their stomachs and the whisper of air separating their chests. If she arched her spine just so, the hard peaks of her breasts would tangle in the wavy dark hairs covering his chest. The resulting teasing tickle curled her toes.
“All better?” he murmured against her throat.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Cora, never fear our passion,” he said in a thick, reassuring voice. “It is pure and true”—he brushed his lips against the tip of her breast—“and beautiful. In my arms and in my eyes, you shall never be anything but utterly perfect and entirely safe.” He caught her gaze. “Do you believe me?”
Liquid warmth spread into every pore of her body. She felt the truth of his words clamp lovingly around her heart, and the last of her doubts sifted away. Although she was far from perfect, years of friendship had enabled Guy to look beyond her faults, where others would only stare in horror. When this was all over and she had to hand him over to a proper wife, she would have to leave. Not just the city, but also the country. Even a chance meeting with the happy couple would devastate her, making the time she had spent in Valère’s dungeon seem like a holiday.
She threw off the maudlin thought and lifted her hand to cradle his cheek. “I understand very well, sir.” She sealed their accord with a kiss. However, she could not help but feel Guy’s question held a much more profound meaning than her muddled mind could comprehend.
Moving her right leg higher against his back, she nearly burst out of her skin when her slick center came in contact with his scorching length. She tested the delicious friction by rolling her pelvis, and this time Guy hissed a curse.
“I’m trying to be gentle here, woman,” he bit out.
She loved watching the myriad of emotions track across his features. In the midst of his fraying self-control hovered vulnerability, a trait not often seen in Guy or any of the other men in her life. But she also saw him struggle with the same unquenchable need that compelled her to investigate the deep expanse of his lower back. The farther down her fingers journeyed, the more force she exerted. “I have no further need of your light touch, Guy. In fact”—she laid her palms against his broad shoulders and pushed her hips upward—“I would prefer you resume your previous examination.”
An unholy grin split the hard planes of his face. Something feral entered his eyes as he slowly backed away on all fours, never releasing her gaze.
With great deliberation and male satisfaction, he lowered his mouth to her throbbing center and licked her. There was no other word for it. His tongue started at the base and slid between her plump folds until he reached a place that made her hips shoot into the air. “Oh, dear Lord.” She stared at the dark canopy above with astonished eyes.
Then she felt him tuck a pillow beneath her bottom and spread her wide for another round of carnal bliss. While easing two fingers inside her, he grazed her sensitive peak with his teeth before soothing it with his lips. He alternated between the two forces for several tormenting seconds and, at pivotal moments, replaced his fingers with his tongue.
She speared her fingers into his long hair, holding his mouth in that one spot. She did not trust him to release her from the inferno consuming her from the inside out. At least, not without further suffering on her part. Any more stimulation than what she was presently enduring would surely stop her heart.
Then it did. For one brief, glorious minute, time suspended, and she lost all sense of place. It was, perhaps, the most freeing moment of her life.
And Guy, dear generous Guy, was there to unlock it for her.
Twenty-Four
Guy roused his sated body enough to glance at the unmoving woman beside him. Cora lay partially on her side with her palm tucked beneath her cheek in an adorable fashion and her left leg angled invitingly toward him. A perfect resting spot for his hand.
He stroked her thigh, feeling the thin scar of Valère’s brand. The euphoric sensation drugging his muscles vanished. How could a man brutalize a woman in such a way? He closed his eyes and took a deliberately calming breath. He would not allow thoughts of the Frenchman take this small piece of happiness away from them. There would be time enough to ponder the man’s insanity later.
Instead, while he contemplated their evening together, he concentrated on her delicate scent drifting in the air around him and the soft flesh beneath his thumb. She had taken him into her mouth. The vivid image burned through his mind with the speed of a runaway horse. Even now, hours later, his cock readied itself for another invasion. Greedy bastard.
One would think a gentleman of his experience would be satisfied by Cora’s gratifying and selfless offering, but no. Not him. Once he had come down from his release, all he wanted to do was burrow his face between her sweet legs and give her the same glimpse of heaven.
The genuine way in which she had responded to his touch had nearly crushed his self-control. Her trembling legs, rapid breaths, and coaxing hands had contained an air of innocence about them that had drive
n him a little mad. And when she exploded around his tongue, he nearly spent himself on his aunt’s embroidered counterpane.
Almost out of his mind with lust, he had been unable to deny her hesitant request to relieve his “burden” once again. His second release was even more powerful than the first. Barely able to lift his leaden arm, Guy had settled her against his chest and waited until he heard her even breathing before closing his eyes and giving into the demands of his replete body.
Now, delicate fingers glided over his hand where it rested on her thigh, bringing him back to the reassuring presence of Cora in his bed.
“What’s the matter?” she asked quietly.
He became aware of the desperate grip he had on her leg and eased his hold. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He turned on his side and kissed her forehead. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all. Is something weighing on your mind?”
She traced the edge of his jaw with a reverence that made his throat ache. After so many years of watching her single-minded and oftentimes masculine approach to her training, he liked seeing this facet of her.
He tapped the end of her nose. “Only you.”
“Are you implying I am a burden, my lord?” Her voice carried a teasing note, but even in the dim light, he could detect a slight frozen quality to her features.
“Never a burden, Cora,” he said. “If you must know, I was enjoying a rather vivid recollection of our… what did you call it? Ah, yes. Our love play.”
Her eyes widened, and then she sent him a conspiratorial smile. “Were you?”
“I see you do not believe me. Would you care to feel the evidence of my excellent memory?”
She sat up, fluffing the pillow behind her and holding the sheet securely above her breasts. “I don’t recall you being so very wicked in our youth.”
Guy followed suit but did not bother to adjust the sheet when it pooled around his hips. “Do you not? I seem to recall you commenting on my mischief not but a few days ago.” For the first time, he noticed the pretty oval pendant dangling from her neck. It was the same one she wore in the bathing tub at the inn. The same one that celebrated France’s revolution.
“Indeed, I did. In your case, mischievousness equates to annoying. Like an insect. Wickedness is an entirely different matter.”
He laid his hand over his chest. “You likened me to a gnat?”
The smile she sent him was several degrees warmer than wicked. “Aye. One I wanted to swat many times.”
Guy threw back his head and laughed. This was the side of Cora he had missed. Since escaping the French, she had regained a modicum of her humor back, but her easy quips had been much slower in coming. “Impudent wench. Come here. I am getting a crick in my neck.”
He grasped her beneath the arms and helped her straddle him. The moment she settled across his lap, her searing cleft enveloped his shaft. Guy’s buttocks clenched in reaction, the small motion driving him farther into her heat. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Blast it, Cora.”
She braced her hands on his shoulders. “My s-sentiments exactly,” she panted. “Is this your idea of revenge?”
He clutched her hips in a steadying hold, being careful of the wound on her lower back. “Hardly. I merely wanted a better view.” The backs of his fingers smoothed down her flat stomach. “Which I now have.”
Awareness gleamed in her heavy-lidded gaze, and she followed his teasing caress over her stomach, ribs, and breasts. Then her attention turned to him. She raked her fingertips through the short hairs covering his chest, seemingly fascinated by their springy quality. “Yes, I see what you mean.” She straightened from her bent position, giving him a better aspect of her beautiful body and—he swallowed when her sleek center skimmed along his cock—a captivating measure on her intimate thoughts.
To distract himself from the building inferno between his legs, he touched his finger to the pendant arranged against her alabaster skin like a priceless gem in a jeweler’s display case. “That’s an unusual cameo. Do you always wear it?”
She looked down and traced her fingers over a feminine profile. “Much of the time.”
“A family heirloom, perhaps?” He didn’t think so, but the proprietary way in which she stroked the cameo drew forth a very male desire to know how she came by the piece.
“Yes and no.” Her words were low, hesitant.
Something like dread rippled through his stomach. “Which one, my dear? It can’t be both.”
“It has not been in my family’s possession long.” Her hand resumed its tortuous study of his chest. “My mother left it for me before she died. I keep it as a remembrance.”
He reflected on her words, noting her response left much to the imagination. She obviously wanted him to believe the pendant held sentimental value, and it might. However, the cryptographer in him reasoned there was much more to the story.
“I see.” A hundred questions circled around his mind, but he tossed them away one by one, deeming them all a bit too pointed. He wanted to ask who had given the necklace to her mother, and when. Why keep a trinket depicting France’s break with the Ancien Régime as a remembrance of her mother? Especially when Lady Danforth’s wedding ring or her great-grandmother’s pearls would perhaps be more appropriate.
“Is there anything you fear, Guy?”
At her softly spoken question, he glanced up and found her lips parted and worry lines carved into her forehead.
The tips of her fingers grazed the line where smooth skin met a thatch of dark hair encircling his groin. Yes, he thought, trapping her hand beneath his.
With painful clarity, he recalled the scene in the woods, the awful moment when he saw Valère’s manservant rounding on Cora, hatred distorting his features. He recalled the moment he realized he would not reach her in time.
When he had stopped long enough to brace his feet apart and aim his pistol at the center of Marcel’s back, his hand jerked at the last second, sending his killing shot wide of its mark.
Guy gritted his teeth against the memory. What use was a protector—an assassin—who was unable to kill? He could not allow his conscience to forever hold his actions hostage. He had every intention of killing Valère, and this newfound weakness would not—must not—stand in his way.
During his ruminations, Cora’s wandering fingers wiggled out from beneath his restraining grip to tunnel into the dark patch of hair between his legs.
His head fell back against the cushioned bed frame, and his bollocks tautened. For a self-indulgent moment, he considered allowing her the freedom of discovery. But, like his current inability to slay his enemy, Guy feared the effect of Cora’s touch on his resolve. Far too easily, he could turn his back on the world outside and spend the rest of his life wrapped in the firm clasp of Cora’s loving hands. And her loyal heart.
His eyes popped open at her first tentative caress on his fully extended shaft. He grasped her wrist. “Cora.”
“You did not answer my question, my lord.”
He had to cut through his passion-fogged mind for her original query. Ah, yes. Did he fear anything? “Of course. What man does not?” Releasing her, he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. “What is troubling you, Cora? Why did you really come to me tonight?”
She resumed her place at his side, making Guy regret his probing questions.
“The dark.”
She spoke not to him but to her lap.
“What of the dark, sweetheart?”
The muscles in her throat pulsed before she said, “It frightens me.” Her statement, so plainly spoken, boomed through the shadow-laden room.
On one hand, his chest swelled with male satisfaction that she would seek him out to hold back the witching hour. But his unruly heart wanted her motive to be far more personal.
He seized her hand beneath the sheet. “I don’t recall you, or better yet, Ethan, mentioning this particular trepidation.”
“No.” Her eyes took on a haunted look, and she drew t
he counterpane up to her chin.
Bleak understanding crashed into Guy. The dungeon. The underground labyrinth of fathomless darkness. “Bloody hell.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and dragged her into his embrace. “Cora—”
“The horrible images,” she said in a rush of words, “they won’t allow me a moment’s respite. I have tried to ignore them, Guy. I truly have, but they persist.” She hid her face against his chest. “My skin feels like it is crawling with insects, and I hear the patter of a thousand tiny malevolent feet stalking toward me. And now… now I can add Scrapper’s death to the macabre scene.” Air billowed between her lips as if she had run the length of the estate’s vast parkland. “There are times when I am certain I’m losing my mind. But that night at the inn, when I slept in your arms, the nightmares never came.”
Guy’s heart shattered at the aching quality of her voice. Helpless rage stung his eyes and clogged his throat. “I will keep you safe through all the nights of your life, Cora.”
She lifted her sweet, ravaged face up to his. “I know.”
There was nothing for it but to kiss her again. The volatile emotions battering his insides would not allow for a simple reassuring press of the lips. No, this kiss was designed to banish one’s demons.
When she responded with equal fervor, Guy moved between her legs and entered her. Her passage was slick, allowing him to set an urgent tempo that brought them both to a splintering release within minutes. He kissed her softly, gently, before easing away.
She exhaled a contented sigh, pulled him down next to her, and snuggled into the shelter of his arms. After adjusting the covers around them, Guy tightened his hold, giving her the peace of mind she sought from him. “Sleep, Cora. Tomorrow, we shall return to London, where I can provide better protection. Does that suit you?”
She nodded, toying with her necklace.
Guy regretted his decision to tell her now rather than waiting until the morning. Although she remained pliant, he sensed a new restlessness thrumming through her small frame. Then her next words confirmed his suspicion.
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