by Shana Galen
He chuckled, a sound she had rarely heard from him. “It will be better for you next time.”
Next time. Would there be a next time with him or was this all she would ever have with him? If this was all, she should try to make the most of it. “It’s not so bad now,” she said, and though she was still uncomfortable the pain was not unbearable any longer. “Are we through?”
“There’s a bit more—”
“You mean that is not all of you?” she all but screeched.
He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile, she supposed. “I mean there is more to the act.”
She drew back as much as she could. “What else is there?” She hadn’t meant to sound wary, but she was not sure she wanted any more of this.
“I’ll show you.” His hands cupped her face, and he bent to kiss her. As their lips met, he moved inside her, gently thrusting deeper.
Lorrie inhaled sharply, but his hands stroked her cheeks and his lips kissed away the pain. He withdrew, and she was surprised that she missed the feel of him. And then he was inside her again, filling her, stretching her. She bit down on her lip, but the pain had faded to mere discomfort. He moved again, pushing deeply, and something inside her fluttered and wakened. She met his gaze, the blue of a moonstone, as he looked down at her. The next thrust pulsed inside her, and she could not quite stifle a moan. Ewan’s brow went up.
“Better?”
“I see”—she caught her breath as he moved again—“how this might be”—if only the pain did not distract her—“pleasurable.”
“Next time,” he promised. “This time…I can’t…”
She felt his hands tense on her cheeks, and he thrust again, this time hard enough to make her gasp. And then he threw back his head, the muscles of his neck straining, and let out a guttural groan. Poised above her as he was, his glorious body straining with pleasure, she thought he must be the most beautiful man ever to walk the earth. Instinctively, she closed her legs around him, pulled him tighter to her.
“I shouldn’t.” He panted. “I can’t stop.”
And with a roar, he thrust deeply, sending another spiral of pleasure through her.
* * *
Ewan lay beside her, cursing himself. He shouldn’t have spilled his seed inside her. They weren’t married. Her father was unlikely to give him permission to marry her, though Ewan could certainly force his hand.
The fact that Lady Lorraine might be carrying his child was an incentive for the duke to wed her quickly.
But would he wed her to Ewan? Certainly the man had other suitors in mind, men who would take her even though she might be ruined. Men who could overlook an indiscretion when faced with the lure of her dowry.
She made a small mewl of contentment and snuggled closer to him. He’d pulled her into his arms, and she’d fallen instantly asleep. She must have been exhausted. Now she lay in his arms, her head on his chest, her breathing deep.
Ewan had always known Lorraine was not for him. But damn if he did not want her now with a fierceness he’d never before allowed himself to feel. As a child he had wanted toys or treats, and it had always seemed that the more he wanted something the less chance he had of receiving it. He’d learned to tamp down his wants. If he didn’t desire, he wasn’t disappointed.
His arms closed tightly around Lady Lorraine. He wanted her. He wanted her in his arms like this night after night. He wanted to give her the pleasure he hadn’t been able to tonight, watch her come apart as he held her. How would he manage to stand by and watch her wed to another? To know another man put his hands on her, breached her tight walls, knew the sounds she made when she found release?
He’d kill the bastard.
Which left one option. He’d return her to London, then go abroad. Perhaps in Rome or Austria he would be far enough away to, if not forget her, put her out of his mind. He would find work. There were always kings and emperors looking for mercenaries to fight their battles. He could kill for profit, and imagine every man he slaughtered was Lady Lorraine’s new husband.
In the meantime, he couldn’t stay here tonight. They might be in Edgware, but that would not stop gossip from spreading if he were to be found in her bed in the morning. Ewan carefully extricated himself from Lorraine’s arms and dressed. With a last look at her sleeping figure, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.
He’d expected the public rooms to be empty. It was still too early for any servants to be awake, but as he descended the stairs, he saw Neil’s dark head bent over a cup. Without looking up, Neil said, “Join me.” He pushed another cup to the place across from him.
Ewan glanced about for Jasper but the bounty hunter was not present.
“He’s sleeping. No rooms available here, so he bedded down in the stable.”
Ewan sat, lifted the cup, and sipped the ale. “You aren’t tired?”
“Oh, I’m thoroughly done in, but someone had to make sure you weren’t caught with the lady. I would have given you another half hour, then come up and dragged you out myself.”
Ewan sipped the ale.
“Did you ruin her?” Neil asked.
“You knew what would happen when I went to her room.”
Neil nodded. “I hoped you might exercise some restraint, but I imagine the lady was overcome with gratitude. She’s in love with you.”
Ewan nodded.
“You will marry her.” It was not a question but an order. Wraxall’s voice took on the same quality it had when they’d fought together and Neil had been his superior.
Ewan looked down at his ale.
“She was ruined before you…er, went upstairs, but at least we could all swear she was untouched. Those fiends were just after the blunt.”
“Where are they?” Ewan looked up, his hand clenching the cup enough to bend the metal.
“Locked up in jail. Safe from you. The magistrate will take care of them. I imagine they’ll be transported or worse, so don’t get any ideas. At the moment, we have another problem—Lady Lorraine.”
“Her father won’t want me.”
Neil waved a hand. “Doesn’t seem to matter what the duke wants at this point. You’ve ruined her, and you will take responsibility.”
Ewan nodded. He would. It was the honorable thing to do, though he could not claim to have much honor after his actions tonight. “What do I do?” he asked.
Neil frowned. “Go to His Grace and tell the truth… Well, omit a few details.”
Ewan waved a hand. “I mean, when he says no.”
Neil considered for a long moment. “Is the man that much of an arse?”
Ewan raised his brows.
“You think he’ll marry her to one of those fops with an old title and not two farthings to rub together?” He studied Ewan. “That is what you anticipate. And what is your plan? Kill the groom?”
“Go abroad.”
Neil slapped a hand on the table. “Run? You? You’ve never run from a fight.” He held up a hand. “Don’t tell me you can’t win, because I’ve watched you overcome worse odds than this. You don’t run, Protector. You fight for her.”
“Why? To leg-shackle her to the muscle in a gambling hell?”
“Do you think that’s all you are?”
Ewan shrugged.
“All you can be?”
Ewan raised a shoulder.
Neil stood and shook his head. “Then perhaps I was wrong. You don’t deserve her.”
* * *
Charles ran to Susan’s room, the letter crumpled in his hand. He did not knock. He merely opened the door and rushed inside. Susan’s maid gave a little shriek as she pulled Susan’s robe over her nude body.
Charles might have taken more time to admire the glimpse of naked flesh, but he was too happy. “Look.” He held out the parchment he’d crumpled in his haste to show his wife.
>
“If you don’t need anything more, Your Grace,” the lady’s maid began.
Susan waved a hand. “Thank you, Teasley.”
As the maid exited the room, Susan took the paper from Charles’s hand. He knew what she saw—
Your daughter is safe and unharmed and will be returned tomorrow.
Susan wobbled, and Charles caught her before her legs could give out. “She’s safe,” Susan said, tears filling her eyes. “He found her.”
“Of course he did.” Aware she wore nothing beneath the robe, Charles did not take her into his arms. He had exercised extreme control these past weeks, holding her when she wanted affection but asking no more of her than that. Now, he was not so certain he could keep his hands from stroking the bare skin beneath her robe.
She looked up at him. “She’s ruined, you know. Even if we try to keep this a secret, word will get out.”
“We can’t force Mostyn to marry her. He didn’t abduct her.”
“Perhaps he will want to marry her. I do not think Lorrie would object,” Susan said.
The tears in her eyes had cleared, and he could see her thoughts had moved to how they might handle this crisis. “And what of the list you made?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Charles lost his breath for a moment from the shock.
“Perhaps I was wrong about the list. Perhaps title and pedigree are not the most important factors in choosing a mate.”
Charles looked down at his wife, stroked her cheek. “You want her to marry for love.”
“Don’t you?”
“I want them both to marry for love. I won’t make it easy for him.”
“Good.” Susan nodded her approval. “Your Grace,” she whispered, pressing against him. “I have a secret.”
He raised his brows.
“I married for love.”
His heart felt so full he was not certain his chest could contain it. “I love you too, Susan.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She stepped back and dropped the robe to the floor. “Take me to bed.”
The duke was never one to disobey a direct order from his duchess.
Twenty-two
Lorraine had imagined the journey back to London would be one of laughter and triumph. After all, she was free. She was safe. Ewan, the man she loved, had come for her, as she had known he would.
But silence hung over the coach the men had hired for the return journey. No one spoke. No one looked at her or at each other. Lorrie didn’t expect the men to have much to say to her, but weren’t they old friends? Had they had a falling out?
Ewan’s silence was familiar to her, but she could not deny his refusal to look at her hurt. She did not regret giving him her virginity, but perhaps he regretted taking it? Had she talked too much during the act? Had she failed to please him? She’d woken alone, and when she’d come down after dressing, he’d only nodded at her. Did he think she would force him to marry her? That was the last thing she would do.
But why didn’t he want her? She knew he loved her.
And if only they could speak of some of this! But they had no privacy, and Lorrie suspected that even if they had, she would have had to pry answers from Ewan. All she could do was wait until they reached London and her father’s house. Then she would see what Ewan did. Please let him declare his love and beg for her hand.
Please.
By afternoon, the coach rattled through Piccadilly, taking her back to Mayfair and home. The men had used old blankets they’d found under the seats to cover the windows so they would not be seen by those passing by. Mr. Wraxall had asked the coachman to take them to the back of the duke’s town house, and Ewan had hurried her out of the coach and into the servants’ quarters faster than a hare chased by a hound.
Once inside the house, Lorrie was immediately engulfed by servants, who rose from their chairs in the dining hall. One footman took Welly from her arms while Mrs. Davies embraced her. “Oh, my lady! You are home. You are safe!”
“Yes, Mrs. Davies. Thanks to Mr. Mostyn and his friends.” She managed to extricate herself, and then Nell took hold of her.
“My lady! I feared I’d never see you again!”
Lorrie hugged her maid back. “I fear your days of dressing my hair are not yet at an end. No doubt it will behave as unruly as usual.”
Nell wiped her eyes. “I don’t mind a whit.”
The sound of a man clearing his throat cut through the chatter, and Lorrie glanced over to see Bellweather in the doorway. “My lady, we are most thankful for your return, and it would be best if you went to your father and mother at once.”
“Of course.” Lorrie looked behind her, relieved Ewan still stood in the dining hall, waiting for her. His face was stoic and unreadable, his blue eyes clear and steady. He nodded to her, as though urging her onward. Lorrie took a deep breath, lifted her borrowed skirts, and followed Bellweather.
As soon as she stepped into the drawing room, her mother, father, and two brothers rose and exclaimed all at once. Lorrie ran to her father and then her mother, while her two brothers patted her on the back and said, “We knew it wouldn’t be so easy to be rid of you!”
Lorrie laughed and stood smiling as her mother held her at arm’s length to look her over. “Are you hurt?”
“No. The men who abducted me were not kind, but they did not harm me. I do believe they simply wanted the ransom.” She looked over her shoulder at Ewan. He stood against a wall, a gentle giant who looked as though he would have preferred to be anywhere else. “Mr. Mostyn and his friends from Lieutenant Colonel Draven’s troop saved me. A Mr. Wraxall and a Mr. Grantham, I believe.”
Ewan nodded.
“They have our thanks,” the duke said.
“They must come to dinner,” the duchess added. “We wish to thank them personally.”
“And we will make certain you are rewarded as well, sir.” The duke moved forward to shake Ewan’s hand.
Ewan offered his hand but did not smile. “I don’t want your blunt.”
The duke clapped Ewan on the shoulder. “Then another gift. We will discuss it later.”
Ewan nodded. “I’d like to meet with you in private.”
The duke furrowed a brow. “Of course. The library in an hour.”
Lorrie moved toward the two men. “I’d like to be present as well.”
“No,” the men said in unison.
Lorrie huffed. “I assume this meeting has something to do with me. I have a right to be present!”
“Now, my dear,” the duchess said, moving forward. As petite as she was, she possessed a tone that brooked no argument. She took Lorrie’s arm and led her from the drawing room. “You need to rest. Let the men have their little talk. Nell!” She motioned to the maid, who stood waiting outside the drawing room. “Have the footmen fetch water so Lady Lorraine might bathe. Then you must put her straight to bed.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Nell bobbed and rushed to do the duchess’s bidding.
The duchess led Lorrie away and toward her room. As they walked, she said, under her breath, “We have managed to keep your abduction quiet, but God knows as loyal as our servants are, someone will talk. They always do.”
“And I was in the presence of men who are not relations, unchaperoned for several days,” Lorrie said.
Her mother gave her a penetrating look. “Fortunately, those men did not hurt you, but that will not quell the scandal. It does not help that you are infatuated with that soldier.”
Lorrie gasped, tripping over her feet on the landing leading to her bedchamber.
The duchess caught her elbow. “Did you think I didn’t know? Your face has always been an open book. The men who abducted you may not have touched you, but he has.”
Lorrie’s face flushed scarlet. Her mother held up a hand. “Don’t bother replying.
You will only stammer or babble on. This is not the situation I wanted for you, but then you have never done what anyone wanted. We will marry you with haste, and please do not dare suggest Francis Mostyn.”
“I would never marry him!”
“Or his cousin.”
“But, Mama!”
The duchess glided to the closed door of Lorrie’s bedchamber and opened it. “I have a short list, Lorrie. Very short. You will marry one of those men or you will expose us all to scandal and ridicule. Is that what you want? To see your brothers and your father humiliated? To watch as they are shot on the dueling field because they are forced to defend your honor?”
“Dueling is illegal.”
Her mother sighed. “Lorrie, you are no longer a child. Cease behaving like one.”
“Then cease treating me like one! I shall marry whom I like.”
“Not with my blessing or that of your father. Think about that, Lorrie. And while you do, consider your future. Do you really wish to be saddled with a man who spends his nights brawling with drunkards outside a gambling hell? I thought I raised you for better than that.”
“There’s more to him than that,” Lorrie insisted.
“I know. He also debauches young girls.” And with that, her mother walked away.
Lorrie stared after her, then, sensing a movement, spotted Nell stepping out of the shadows. “I don’t mean to interrupt, my lady.”
“You heard?” Lorrie asked, moving into her room. Nell followed.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I could not help it.”
“And do you not think my mother the most hypocritical woman who ever walked the earth? How many lovers has she had? Three? Four?”
Nell busied herself turning down the bedclothes, as though she actually expected Lorrie to sleep. “I don’t know anything about that, my lady.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does. And now she thinks to lecture me on morality.”
“She only wants what’s best for you, my lady. May I?”
Lorrie nodded, and Nell began to unfasten the borrowed dress.
“She wants what is best for her. I love Ewan!”
