Morris came at him from the opposite side, leaving Hal with a choice to make. Should he take on the man mountain with the cudgel, or the determined murderer with a dagger?
He’d been in a similar situation once before, one from which he was lucky to emerge unscathed. Praying that his quotient of luck hadn’t run out, he watched his two opponents closing in on him, weapons raised. He had one shot at this and it all depended upon timing. Noise from the tavern filled the narrow alleyway—an alleyway from which there was nowhere to run, even if he’d wished to. Not that he would ever run from a fight, however heavily outnumbered, but that wasn’t the point. It gave a man comfort to know there was a way out, even if it wasn’t an honourable one.
Hal refocused his mind, standing stock-still, almost as though he’d given up the fight. At a nod from Morris the thug moved forward, cudgel raised, from his left whilst Morris closed in on Hal’s right. Hal controlled his breathing and forced himself to wait. It could only have been for a matter of seconds but felt more like his entire life.
Discipline. If he moved too soon he would finish the job for them.
Now!
Hal fell to his knees at the precise moment when Morris lifted his dagger. Instead of finding Hal’s soft flesh, he buried it in his own man. The thug looked down at the blood spilling from the left side of his chest as though he couldn’t quite understand where it was coming from and slowly crumpled to the floor. Counting on Morris’s momentary surprise, Hal sprang back to his feet, aware that Morris’s dagger was still inserted in another man’s chest, and knocked the despicable man clean off his feet. All the pent-up anger and, yes, fear that had gripped him added force to his punch. Morris’s head hit the cobbled street with a heavy thwack. Blood spilled from the wound and he didn’t move.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before Hal could return to the tavern to fetch help, Leah came out of it at a run, too worried about Hal to spare a thought for her own safety. He caught her as she ran headlong into his arms.
“Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly. “When I saw Mr. Parsons I was so scared—”
“I’m fine,” he said, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “And you should have stayed inside.”
“I couldn’t. I was too worried about you.”
“Thank you, disobedient child—”
“Disobedient!” Leah puffed out her cheeks. “Remind me next time not to worry about you.”
“I sincerely hope there won’t be a next time.”
“So do I.” Leah shuddered. “I was petrified.”
“How’s Parsons?” Hal asked.
“We’ve managed to stem the bleeding. The wound is not as deep as it appeared, thank the Lord, and a doctor’s been sent for. But Morris?”
“Let’s get this mess cleared up, then we’ll talk.”
“You are hurt!” she cried, gently touching the side of his face where the thug had landed that blow.
He flashed a mirthless grin and nodded to the two prostrate men. “Not as much as they are.”
The doctor arrived and stitched up Parsons. Hal arranged for him to be quartered overnight in a room at the inn. In the morning, if he was well enough to be moved, Hal would organise that as well. His two men, stuck in the street outside the whole time and blissfully unaware of the murderous attack taking place in the alley, would remain with him. The runners were called and Morris, conscious again, and Jenkins too, were taken off to gaol along with the ruffians.
“Now,” Hal said to Leah when they were finally alone. “Perhaps we can go home at last.”
There was a brittle silence inside the carriage as it made its way through the now-empty streets. In Grosvenor Street Green opened the door to them, too well trained to show any reaction to Hal’s dishevelled clothing and battered face.
“Send up hot water,” Hal said. “And then you may go to bed.”
Leah didn’t say anything, other than to wish Hal good-night. Somehow she knew that the night was far from over but that, for propriety’s sake, pretended otherwise. Mary awaited her and helped her to disrobe.
“There, that’s fine, thank you, Mary,” Leah said when the maid had helped her into her night attire and brushed her hair out. “You may go to bed now.”
“Very good.” Mary bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you, miss. Good night.”
Alone, Leah retained her seat in front of the glass, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Sleep was out of the question. The indefinable something in the air between her and Hal since besting Morris told her at least that much. Should she go to him, or meekly sit here waiting for him to call on her.
Since meekness wasn’t in Leah’s character, she stood, grabbed a candle from the dressing table and headed for the door before her nerves got the better of her. Standing in that dimly lit corridor with its endless row of closed doors, she realised she had no idea where Hal’s room actually was. Wasn’t the master bedroom in grand houses always situated in the front, centre? Leah made her way to that door, put her ear to it and smiled when she heard muttered curses coming from within.
Without knocking she turned the handle and went straight in.
“You can’t do that on your own,” she said, gulping when she saw him sitting shirtless on an enormous bed, muscles rippling as he attempted to attend to his cuts and bruises.
He looked up at her, her rugged conquering hero who would never actually be hers. He didn’t speak, nor did he seem surprised to see her. Their eyes locked, and a deeply disturbing jolt rocked her entire body.
“Let me,” she said, somehow snatching her gaze from the torso that so fascinated her and crossing the room to join him. She took the cloth from his hand and gently applied it to his bruised face. Still he didn’t speak. “Does it hurt anywhere else?” she asked.
Instead of responding, he removed the cloth from her hand and threw in on the floor.
“I was about to come to you,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
He appeared amused by her lack of modesty. “You do?”
“We have much to talk about.”
“I wasn’t planning on doing much talking.”
“Oh.” He pulled her onto his knee. “Then what—”
“We didn’t finish reenacting Fanny’s story.”
“That’s hardly my fault. I was quite willing. It was you who—”
“Shush, that was then.” He planted a light kiss on the end of her nose, almost as though she were a child come to wish him good-night. At that moment, sitting on his knee wearing nothing more than a nightgown and thin robe, she felt like anything but a child. She felt wanton, desirable, adventurous, wild—curious and unafraid.
“What changed?”
Instead of answering her, in one decisive action he pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and plundered her mouth. The seductive strokes of his tongue as it forced its way between her lips made her head swirl and her heart soar. This is where she wanted to be, safe and secure in his arms and in his bed. She sensed the urgency behind his actions and returned his kiss instinctively, liquid heat flooding her body in dizzying waves.
Since he started this, she was determined that this time he wouldn’t fob her off with anything other than complete fulfilment. She had never completely abandoned that ambition, and this opportunity was too good to pass up. They were alone for the entire night in a house where no one would dare to disturb them. No one would ever know, so her behaviour wouldn’t harm Beth’s prospects, his bed looked altogether too comfortable and...well, they were attracted to one another, were they not? Where was the harm in it?
Perhaps she ought to reassure him, set his mind at rest. He should be made aware that she wouldn’t cling, would make no further demands on him afterwards. Tomorrow she would return to her sister, her head full of plans to secure a happy future for her sibling now that she had the funds to make that possible.
Yes, that was what she would do.
All thoughts of speaking fled her addled brain when Hal deepened the
kiss and, simultaneously, allowed his hands to wander to her breasts, caressing them through the thin fabric of her night attire. Desire shot through her as his hands explored, moulding and caressing, stoking the heat that was growing hotter by the second deep within her core. Her nipples were rock hard, sensitive to the touch. She somehow managed to gasp when he pinched one of them, even though she was still being comprehensively kissed.
He broke the kiss eventually and smiled down at her, breathing heavily as passion swirled in the depths of his eyes.
“You’re overdressed,” he said softly. “What can we do about that?”
Without waiting for an answer, he stood her back on her feet, pulled the tie at the waist of her robe and pushed it from her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft swish and remained there, forgotten by them both. He tilted her head, observing her as though she was a work of art, standing in front of him clad only in her thin nightgown and her shift. A candle burned behind her, presumably giving him a very good view of all that lay beneath it. But it seemed it wasn’t enough for him. He undid the tie at her neck, grasped the hem of the garment and whipped it over her head. It joined the robe on the floor. So too did her shift.
For the first time in her life, Leah stood before a man completely naked and strangely composed. Perhaps it was the light of admiration she could detect in his eye that banished any embarrassment she might otherwise have felt. Boldly she raised her hands to the breasts he’d just caressed, and moulded them between her fingers, pushing the rosy nipples together as close as they would go.
“God’s teeth, Leah,” he said, his voice a strangled cry. “Carry on like this and you’ll surely kill me.”
He stood too and seemed about to lift her onto the bed but she fended him off with a hand. It didn’t seem fair. He was stripped to the waist but still wearing his breeches and stockings, whereas she wasn’t wearing a stitch.
“Your turn,” she said, nodding towards his clothing.
She thought he might raise the same objections as he had when they’d been together at the Boar. Fortunately he didn’t. Without removing his gaze from her face, he unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them down, removing his stockings at the same time. When he straightened up again he stood proud—very proud—in front of her, still watching for her reaction.
Leah licked her lips, enthralled. It was all very well reading about such things as the male weapon but seeing one in the flesh, so to speak, especially such an impressive example, was entirely another matter.
“‘A fierce erect machine,’” she said, her voice strangely husky. “I think Fanny might not have been so impressed with Charles, had she been fortunate enough to know you.”
With a bark of laughter, Hal lifted her from her feet and they tumbled together onto the bed, bare chest against bare breast, the amalgamation explosive. He kissed her again, his hands wandering the length of her legs, lingering on the outside of her thighs but not parting them. Did he know just how moist she would be if—when—he did so? It felt like a river running between her legs. She would have been alarmed, had the feeling not been quite so volcanic, and had she not known from her reading that it was an entirely natural response to arousal.
Daringly she reached a hand between them and touched Hal’s weapon. It twitched when her fingers made contact, as did he.
“Did I do that wrong?” she asked.
“No, sweetheart, but you would be better advised to let me direct operations.”
“Am I not to participate? Fanny always did.”
“Not the first time.”
Leah lay back, smiling. So there would be a first time. He really didn’t mean to hold back. As she had once before, she pulled the ribbon from his hair and watched it tumble round his shoulders, her brave Viking now in a completely natural state, just for her.
He rolled off her, giving his hands greater freedom to roam. And roam they did, following in the wake of his lips as he kissed first her lips, then the column of her neck, pausing to lap at the pulse beating at its base. No quarter was given when those questing lips reached her breasts. His teeth joined the party, nipping at her nipples, taunting her until her head thrashed from side to side, her whole body in danger of sensual overload.
When he had teased her almost to the point of insanity, his lips continued on their journey, slowly making their way down her stomach until they finally reached the sodden hair at the apex of her legs. He tasted her and looked up, amusement in his eyes.
“You’re a little damp,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Hal,” she said on a tortured breath. “Please.”
Her desperation appeared to communicate itself, but still he held back.
“What comes next? I seem to have forgotten.”
Leah harrumphed. “Then perhaps I ought to find more able teacher.”
He lightly tapped her thigh. “Ah, just a moment, I think I recall now. A finger into the quick, is it not?”
He parted her thighs and sought out her entrance, gently probing the moist passage with one, or was it two, fingers? Leah sighed and wiggled against his hand, wanting more. Always more.
“‘She brought me again to the crevice so favourable to our curiosity,’” Hal murmured, driving his fingers deeper, adding a third. “Is that what you want, sweet Peisinoe?”
“No, my lord, I want what Fanny would describe as your ‘engine of love assaults.’” She giggled. “Rather desperately, it would seem.”
“Very well, since you ask so persuasively.”
Leah could sense that Hal was nowhere near as controlled as he would have her believe. With her legs still parted, he positioned himself above her, watching her face as he placed himself where his fingers had so recently probed.
Leah tensed when he nudged against her entrance, hesitated and then drove himself into her with one deep thrust. As her body captured his erection, she screamed. This was no longer enjoyable.
“Sorry.” He stilled completely and tenderly brushed the hair away from her brow. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I think so.” Leah took a deep breath and a long moment to accustom herself to the feel of him inside her, filling her completely. It had hurt but the stinging pain was already receding and she’d come too far to stop now.
She lifted her hips experimentally. A slight soreness remained but he started to move again and she forgot all about her momentary discomfort.
Hal appeared to know exactly how far to go before holding back and making her beg for more. Leah wasn’t beyond begging. She knew what she wanted and felt empowered to go after it with a wanton disregard for her pride.
She wanted him. She needed so desperately to feel complete that instinct took over and she pushed up to meet his next thrust.
The muscles on Hal’s forehead stood out as he strained to hold back. Laughing, she again met him as he thrust, unprepared for the cataclysmic result of her inexperience. Waves of unimaginable pleasure spangled throughout her body.
She cried out, opening her legs wider and lifting her hips in perfect time with his motions. Shivers of liquid excitement tingled down her spine as Hal increased the pace, let forth an elongated groan, and liquid of a very different nature shot deep inside her.
Exhausted, Leah wiped perspiration from her brow as Hal collapsed beside her, breathing deeply. At last! At last she understood what all the fuss was about. What she had condemned herself to forfeit for the rest of her life.
“Are you all right, little one?” he asked a short time later.
“More than all right.” She leaned up on one elbow and smiled at him. “Thank you, Hal. Now I know.”
“Indeed you do.”
“Why did you change your mind?”
He cocked one brow. “What do you mean?”
“You were adamantly opposed to taking my virginity. You said only my future husband could do that.”
“He just did.”
Leah laughed, thinking she’d misheard him. “What do you mean?”
“Th
is isn’t quite the way I intended things to go,” he said, pulling her into his arms and resting her head on his chest, “but I’ve known for a while now that I intend to marry you.”
“Me!” Leah’s laughter was tinged with a touch of regret. “That’s very gallant of you, but quite unnecessary. I came to you, remember, both in Denby and here, tonight.”
“And if you hadn’t, then I would have come to you and proposed before we allowed passion to sweep all before us.” He sat up, leaned against the headboard and pulled her with him. “I love you, Leah Elliott. You are clever, principled, loyal, you sing like an angel and you don’t suffer fools gladly. What more could I want in a marchioness?”
Leah gaped. He was actually serious. He really did want to marry her! He’d even professed to love her. She could think of a thousand reasons why the union wouldn’t work, not the least of which was her lowly birth—something which would cause him to be ostracised by society. But if it didn’t matter to him? Leah was sorely, so sorely, tempted to accept him.
“I’m hardly marchioness material,” she said lightly.
“No, you’re more duchess material,” he agreed.
“Oh heavens, I’d forgotten about that!” Leah’s hand flew to her mouth. “Your uncle will probably disinherit you the moment he sets eyes on me.”
“Actually, he’ll adore you. We’ll take The Celandine to Cornwall and visit him.”
“Why are you so sure he’ll like me?”
He answered her question with one of his own. “Why do you suppose he never married?”
“I wondered about that. Presumably he was under pressure to produce an heir but was unable to find a lady he could stand to share his life with.”
“Not exactly. He found exactly the right lady and fell headlong in love when he was still in his twenties.”
“What happened?”
“The lady was deemed unsuitable and he was forbidden to marry her.”
Compromising the Marquess Page 27
