2Rakehell

by Debra Glass

  Someone had died. The horse had been injured so badly it’d had to be put down. Her knees went weak and she clutched at the seats to keep from falling. She or Adam could have been hurt—or worse.

  Moisture coursed down her face and she didn’t know whether it was a tear or the rain. She suddenly didn’t know what to think. Her whole body shook. Panic welled in her breast and her skin crawled with the closeness of the capsized coach.

  She had to get out of here. The seats, the swinging door, the walls all seemed to be closing in on her. She couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath.

  Her heart hammered. Her stomach lurched and she gagged. She shook her head against the bitter bile in her throat and prayed she wouldn’t vomit.

  “Adam,” she squeaked, desperate to get out of here even though what she might find outside would be worse. “Adam…”

  The coach trembled and two hands descended in front of her face. She looked up, grateful to see her husband’s strained face. The sulfurous stench of gunpowder filled her nostrils.

  “Is there anywhere you can get a foothold? I’m going to pull you out,” he said.

  Hiking up her skirt, she planted one shoe against the seat and then reached up to him. With a grunt, he pulled her up until she could sit on the side.

  It was worse then she’d imagined.

  The driver lay at the edge of a ditch. Adam’s frock coat rested respectfully over the man’s face. Primrose purposefully avoided looking in the direction of the dead horse. One of the footmen sat at the edge of the muddy road holding his arm close. Since there was no blood on his sleeve Primrose assumed he’d twisted it or had possibly broken it.

  The other footman sat next to him holding his head in his hands.

  “Are they hurt?” Primrose asked.

  “They’ll mend,” Adam said quietly. “What about you? Are you positive you’re not injured?” Concern was evident in the furrow of his brow and the stern set of his mouth.

  The memory of him hauling her against him flashed through her head. “I am not…thanks to you.”

  His palm swept tenderly over her cheek. When the flinty ice in his gaze softened, her pulse rioted. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. “Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I—”

  The hope of hearing a declaration of his affections was dashed when another coach rumbled up the road.

  At once Adam bounded to the ground and waved his arms to hail the driver.

  Myriad emotions flitted through her while the other brougham stopped and its crew climbed down to help. Heartache that a trusted member of their staff was dead. Sadness for the faithful horse that had given many years of service to the inhabitants of Scarborough Hall. Concern for the injured footmen and relief that neither she nor Adam had been harmed.

  It could have been so much worse.

  As she processed those feelings another intruded. Adam had protected her. She swallowed thickly at the memory of the look in his eyes when he’d caressed her cheek. She trailed her gloved fingers over the spot he’d touched, still feeling the warmth, the gentleness she hadn’t thought he possessed.

  Something had shifted between them. The cord of their tenuous connection strengthening was palpable.

  And terrifying.

  Because she knew if he left her again she’d never, not ever, come to terms with it.

  * * * * *

  “Thank you, Midge,” Primrose said as she stood from her dressing table.

  Midge curtsied and left the room.

  Primrose sighed. She hadn’t realized how sore she was from the accident. A hot bath filled with soothing salts had helped her relax and now the idea of dressing for dinner seemed unthinkable.

  She’d donned her dressing gown and had decided to spend the evening in her rooms.

  A soft knock sounded on the connecting door between her chamber and Adam’s.

  Primrose’s heart raced. “Come in.”

  Adam opened the door, looking resplendent in a burgundy lounging robe and dark Japanese silk pajamas. Behind him a servant wheeled a cart bearing a covered tray. “After everything that happened I thought it best to have supper in our rooms tonight.”

  He began to pour two glasses of wine as the servant removed the cover from the platter to reveal several plates of fruit, cheese and cold chicken.

  Primrose hadn’t realized how hungry she was until just now. And how grateful she was for a glass of wine until he handed it to her.

  The servant disappeared, closing the door behind him.

  “How are you feeling?” Adam asked, slipping his hand around her neck to thread his fingers into the thick hair at her nape.

  “Tired.” She sipped her wine. “Sore.”

  Her fatigue however was all but forgotten when he brushed a kiss over her forehead. Boldly she put her glass back on the cart and moved against him, entreating him to hold her.

  He set his down as well and his arms wound around her, drawing her into that safe haven.

  She breathed in the scent of soap and skin and the sweet tobacco he’d smoked sometime earlier. His heartbeat sped up beneath her ear. One hand tangled into her hair. The other moved slowly and deliberately up and down her back.

  This new intimacy frightened her. Without her collar, without his commands, her heart was at risk.

  “Primrose,” he whispered so that she looked up at him.

  One big hand cradled her face as he gazed into her eyes. She battled the overwhelming impulse to look away.

  “Primrose,” he said again as if he were trying to fit her name to her face—to this moment.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move.

  Without warning his mouth descended on hers. He half lifted her up to him, holding her head in his hand as he claimed her lips. His kiss was fueled with desperation and need that made her shake all the way down to her slippers.

  Her body responded, softening, awakening. Dampness gathered in her core and she moved restlessly against him, opening as his tongue plumbed her mouth.

  She whimpered as his fervent kisses traveled to her cheek, her ear and then her neck.

  Desire consumed her, threatening to render her to ash in his arms.

  She ached for the safety of her collar, for the freedom to experience pleasure robbed of her will. Like this she was far too vulnerable. And she had far too much to lose.

  His fingers found the buttons of her dressing gown and he made quick work of them. The silk pooled around her as she shrugged free. His lips left her long enough for him to haul her nightgown over her head, leaving her naked, on fire and shivering at the same time.

  His gaze drank her in just before he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed. He hurriedly peeled off his own clothing as he climbed onto the mattress. Parting her knees with his, he came down inside her, filling her, claiming her.

  She gasped at the welcome intrusion. They’d lain together countless times since he’d returned, but this…this felt like the first time.

  His eyes bored into her, peeling her protective shell away layer by heartache-honed layer until her soul was bared. Exposed. Could he see how much she loved him? And what would he do if he knew?

  She succumbed to the need to close her eyes.

  “Look at me,” he told her. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t domination. It was a plaintive request—as if he needed her to see him.

  Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze found his. Oh dear Lord why did it feel as if she had a stone in her chest? She simultaneously ached and burned with desire. He looked at her as if he…as if he loved her.

  “Touch me,” he murmured. She needed no further encouragement. Her palms skimmed his sinewy arms, his shoulders, his chest. Steel encased in velvet.

  A part of her sought to memorize every inch of him in the event he was ripped from her.

  He moved into her, not with urgency but with a deliberate sense of possession. He withdrew almost completely only to glide into her again, pushing against her body. The only thing keeping
her from inching toward the headboard was his arm under her shoulders anchoring her, holding her against him.

  Her hands explored the rigid muscles of his back, his taut, tapered waist and lower where his buttocks rippled like the shivering flanks of a prized stallion as he drove in and out of her.

  His gaze dropped to her lips and before she could draw her next breath he kissed her again. A growl rumbled deep in his throat as his hands found hers, drawing them above her head, his fingers lacing with hers.

  She opened her legs wide, taking as much of him as she could, grinding her clitoris against his pelvis as his body countered hers. It was a heady mix of lust and love, a combustible need she sensed he felt as much as she did.

  I love you…

  She would have said it. She would have admitted it in spite of everything, in spite of the risks, had he not been kissing her so thoroughly.

  Her legs entwined with his. Sexual need obliterated all coherent thought as his mouth left hers and moved to her ear. She twisted her neck, giving him better access. How was it possible for every inch of her body to become a zone of erotic pleasure?

  “No one has ever made me feel this way,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

  What way? She yearned to ask but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words.

  His teeth raked her earlobe. “I want you on top of me. I want to watch you, touch you, see your face when you come, darling.”

  He’d told her she’d never be on top again without his permission but she didn’t question it as he scooped an arm beneath her and in one smooth motion turned over, taking her with him.

  Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the ends curling provocatively at her breasts. Unaccustomed to being in control, she lowered her lashes. Her cheeks flushed with warmth and her stomach seized when she reveled in the sight of his sculpted shoulders and chest—and lower to where they were connected.

  “Touch me.” His request was but a husky breath.

  Exploring the hard planes of his chest and abdomen she began to move slowly. Rhythmically. His groin countered hers perfectly. Astride him she sensed every inch of the length and girth of his cock. Stretched to capacity, she loved the way his body fit hers.

  He raked a lock of her hair away from one breast and cupped it, weighing its fullness then kneading her nipple with his thumb and index finger. “You are so very beautiful,” he said, his gaze fixed on her breast as if he were worshipping her body.

  Do you love me as I love you? She wanted so very much to know. Pride prevented her from asking. Fear. Not knowing and believing it a possibility was far better than risking a second rejection from him.

  His eyes lifted to hers, kindling those smoldering embers in her belly. Their gazes held until she saw deeper than the dark amber of his irises, the flecks of gold and the fathomless pools of his pupils. For the first time he was unguarded and open. Chills raced up her back and arms as she saw how his soul had been etched with betrayal and lies, with guilt and shame secreted so far inside he could no longer define his own emotions.

  And then as if he grasped that she saw too much, his palm circled her nape and he drew her down, lifting his head to capture her lips again and again. This kiss—this tender kiss—awakened the possibility of a future within her even as the meeting of their tongues ratcheted her pleasure higher and higher.

  Emboldened, she caught his face in her hands and held him as she took control of the kiss. She pushed her hips down, grinding her clitoris against him, Mastering her own ecstasy until that elusive quickening drew nearer. Hovering on the brink, she savored this moment, this connection for several electrifying seconds and then she found release.

  She moaned into his mouth before finally tearing her lips from his and burying her face in his neck. Ripple after ripple of bliss coursed through her, and lost in her pleasure, she realized he too cried out. His hands found her hips and he pumped her up and down on his cock, urgently at first and then ultimately slowing to a stop.

  “I love you.” The whispered words were almost silent against his shoulder, blending in with his heavy breaths, not meant for him to hear. Not really.

  * * * * *

  I love you…

  Adam swallowed thickly as he recalled Primrose’s whispered declaration. He’d known how she felt for some time. Emotion emanated from her eyes. He’d sensed her affection in the way her hands trembled when she kissed him. He’d seen it in the way her body came alive when they were together, in her eyes when modesty compelled her to avert her gaze.

  By God he’d courted it.

  So why was he was so shocked to hear the words spoken from her lips?

  She lay snuggled against him, warm in his arms, her breathing deep and even as she slept.

  I love you.

  His pulse accelerated and an odd sort of tension plagued him between the ribs. Had he ever known love?

  Images of his childhood, of the earl at his side as they both romped in the garden, of happy Christmases past. Most of his schoolmates’ parents had had little to do with them, leaving child-rearing to a staff of governesses and tutors. Not the earl who’d been quick with words of praise, even hugs.

  But Adam reminded himself it hadn’t been real. The earl wouldn’t have loved him if he’d but known Adam’s true parentage. All the wonderful memories Adam cherished were naught but lies.

  Even if that had been love it wasn’t the same as this…this tumultuousness he felt when he was with his wife.

  He didn’t know how it happened or even when it started. But he couldn’t help but anticipate her arrival to breakfast or the way the sun shone behind her, illuminating her like the ethereal being she was, as she entered the room. He longed for her when they weren’t together, for her knowing glances, the little quirk of her smile, to gaze at the three little moles adorning the delicate plane of her jaw until they transformed into stars.

  He’d grown accustomed to walking the grounds with her in the mornings, to paying visits to the bedridden earl—and then later, to removing layer after frilly, perfumed layer of her clothing until she stood naked and blushing and glowing, her sparkling blue eyes turning midnight as she descended into the depths of her submission.

  His pulse quickened whenever she walked toward him, worrying the rings on her fingers and capturing her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh it wasn’t that she lacked confidence. No. But he found her uncertainty incredibly endearing. He adored that he had that effect on her.

  Her very presence made him grin like an innocent boy.

  And whenever they parted she took a piece of him with her.

  Oh God if she were ever taken from him… He couldn’t spend the rest of his life, nay, a day without her in it. If she’d been injured—or worse—in that accident, he would have felt such a sense of loss that it would have rendered him unable to go on.

  The thought of losing Primrose put the grief of learning that the earl wasn’t his real father into perspective.

  Primrose shivered and Adam drew the coverlet closer about her shoulders. She moaned contentedly and nestled closer.

  How had this happened? Heat rushed to his head at just how easily he’d given her the upper hand. Control.

  He’d revealed too much. He’d made himself vulnerable and she had boldly dared to utter words that terrified him to the core. He felt as if he were drowning, sinking into an abyss from which there was no escape. Down, down he went with no handhold to stop him.

  Somehow he had to regain his strength, his command. And he knew just the place to do it. Just the place to test her avowal of love.

  * * * * *

  “Adam! Son!”

  Adam blinked, disbelieving. Thorley had improved. Vastly.

  Irene stood and curtsied. “Milord,” she muttered.

  “He seems immensely better today,” Adam said, regretting how he’d talked to Gallagher about her.

  “Sit down,” Thorley encouraged enthusiastically. He turned to the nurse. “Give us a few minutes please.”

>   Adam stared, bewildered and pleasantly surprised.

  After the nurse left Thorley rubbed his forehead. “I wish I could shake this brain fog.”

  Still somewhat shocked, Adam sat in a chair next to the bed and leaned slightly forward. How could this be? He was like a new man altogether. “You look much better today.”

  “I feel better. More…more clear.”

  Adam pushed away the fear that Thorley might merely be making a last stand before taking a turn for the worse.

  “Is that woman gone?” Thorley asked under his breath.

  Adam looked toward the door. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know how long this will last…or if the Good Lord has seen fit to give me a brief respite before taking me, but…I…want to offer you an apology for my part in your leaving Scarborough Hall.”

  Adam’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know how to respond. “I…I behaved foolishly. You did what you thought necessary with Primrose and…and it seems she and I have more in common than—” His lips pulled into a boyish grin.

  “Oh poppycock,” the earl said. “That’s not why I wanted you to marry her, son.”

  “I don’t understand. You know that I didn’t…despoil her.”

  “It’s your cousin Benedict who should be furious with me.” Thorley’s hearty laugh made Adam smile. “He was the one who wanted her.” Thorley chuckled and then continued. “You don’t know do you?” He snorted.

  “Know what?” Adam still couldn’t get past this immeasurable improvement in Thorley’s health.

  The earl’s face darkened. He heaved a sigh. “The estate is all but bankrupt. I admit I’ve been a poor manager. Your cousin Hamish stepped in during your absence and he’s made a colossal mess of things.”

  Guilt flared in Adam’s chest. He should have been here. The estate should have been his responsibility. “Bankrupt?”

  Thorley nodded gravely. “I knew I was in financial straits before you married Primrose. I learned a bit of information I wasn’t supposed to know. Her father bragged about the inheritance he intended for her. And not only that but upon the birth of a male heir he intended to levy a fortune on her. Her parents were making a big play for her to marry Lashwood and well…I’m not ashamed of what I did when the circumstance presented itself. Besides she seemed happier at the prospect of marrying you than your cousin.”