by Burke, Darcy
“No, I said it was her story to tell, so I won’t say much more than that. I have to reveal that much if I’m to tell you about the things I’ve done—and why. Because I had a natural skill for thievery, Selina taught me how to pick pockets without detection.”
He stared at her, his hand still against her wrist. “Oh my God, you weren’t joking when you said you were a footpad.”
“Not really, no.”
“And when you fought that footpad.” He narrowed his eyes. “How did you provoke that one to flee?”
She felt the heat in her face and the fact that it spread all the way down to her breasts. Hell, she was still naked! “I stabbed him. With the knife in my boot.” She didn’t think his eyes could grow bigger, but they did.
“How did I miss that completely?”
“You were occupied.” She licked her lower lip again, troubled by the uncertainty and astonishment in his shocked expression. “I didn’t want you to know that I could hold my own in that way. Selina taught me that too.”
“I can’t believe your sister is from the streets.”
“She isn’t from there, but she doesn’t remember anything else. Rafe said they had parents—he barely recalls them—but they became orphans when they were very young. They had to fight to survive, quite literally.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “This is incredible. So, you were a thief?”
“When I had to be. Among other things.” She looked away from him, her throat constricting. “I thought I’d left all that behind, but we started to run out of money here in London. Everything is so bloody expensive, and I just had to have a Season to impress my father.” Anger rose inside her. She jerked her arm from Tom’s hand. “I nearly caused Selina to lose everything. And for what? A man who doesn’t care about me and who would just as soon tell the world what I’ve done, how I’m a thief and a bastard. No, not a bastard, for then he’d have to explain how he knew, and he would never want to associate himself with the likes of me.” Her blood raced through her veins, pumping so loudly, she wondered if Tom could hear it.
Tom clasped her shoulders and drew her to look at him. “I’m not sure I understood all that, but it doesn’t matter. Are you still a thief?”
“Only when I can’t help it.” She winced inwardly at the lie. Her mother’s jewels didn’t count. Was it stealing if the item rightfully belonged to you? “As with the penknife. I found it in my pocket, but I didn’t remember how it had gotten there. I stashed it with my collection of unknown items, but I sold the lot just the other day. I can probably get the knife back. Would that help you?”
“I can’t see how it would. You…sold it?”
“Fenced it is the proper term.” Heat flushed her face and neck once more. “I can try to buy it back tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think it matters, and honestly, good riddance to the damn thing. You said your father would tell everyone about your past. He knows?”
She nodded, anger and frustration beating at her chest. “I was caught at the school, and they notified him. He then tracked us after I left Mrs. Goodwin’s. He knows that Selina and I are frauds. Swindlers.” The heat of her ire cooled and was replaced by a searing cold. “She pretends to be a fortune-teller. I pretend to be sick and in need of money for treatment. We pretend we’re starting a charitable organization and collect donations.” She looked him in the eye. “I’m not proud of it, but surely you agree it’s better than selling myself.” It was as if her body had been immersed in ice. She twitched and shivered as her skin turned to gooseflesh.
He still held her shoulders, but now he drew her against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her until she was on his lap as he settled back against the headboard. He pressed his lips to her temple and massaged her flesh, bringing warmth back, slowly, to her body.
“As you said, we are definitely a pair.”
“Yes, but a pair of what?” She rubbed her cheek against his chest.
“Unfortunate souls.” He chuckled, and she closed her eyes, grateful for this man and what they shared.
“This has been a very educational night,” she said wryly. “However, I must admit that I am feeling rather fortunate. Aren’t you?”
“Yes. More than I have in years. Perhaps forever. And that is due to you.” He cupped her cheek and tipped her head up so he could kiss her, his lips seducing hers with a gentle sweep and press. His tongue entered the fray, and her defenses—of which she had none against him, nor did she want any—were completely lost.
She kissed him back in ardent abandon, twining her arms around his neck. The revelations of the night gave way to a keener understanding, perhaps a more insistent craving. The more she knew of him, mentally, physically, emotionally, the more she wanted.
“What will your father do?” Tom asked softly. “Do I need to call him out?”
Beatrix smoothed her palms over the muscular planes of his chest as her gaze met his. “You would do that?”
“I think I might. He has no right to expose you, not after the way he’s treated you. He’s despicable.”
“It seems we were both burdened with terrible fathers. How remarkable that you are the complete opposite.” She smiled as she continued to explore him, her fingertips gliding along the ridges of his muscles and the small peak of his nipples. He sucked in a breath.
“So long as I leave him alone, he’ll leave me alone. I don’t trust him, but I’ve no reason to believe he’ll expose my or Selina’s secrets. If he does, I will tell everyone he is my father, and that he does not want.”
“You don’t want that either,” Tom said, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. “Society is cruel, but then you know that from the girls at the school.”
Yes, she did. And no, she didn’t want her past or the circumstances of her birth laid bare for all to see.
Bare… She stared at the expanse of his chest before her. She leaned forward and licked across his nipple. His cock, already stirring beneath her, hardened.
“Beatrix, I—”
She scooted down his thighs and moved her hand to stroke his length. “Yes?”
“I should probably go.”
“Why? Selina and Harry aren’t here. Just leave before dawn.”
“There are reasons I shouldn’t stay longer.”
She kissed his throat. “There are reasons you should.” She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Tom, it’s only tonight. I think we both deserve it.”
His expression flickered with uncertainty.
“Will you stay?”
* * *
There was nothing he wanted more. In the end, he allowed desire to overcome reason.
Clasping her waist, he turned her so that she straddled his hips. He lifted one hand to her temple and brushed her hair back from her face. He tangled his fingers into her curls and pulled her to him for a blistering kiss.
Their mouths slanted together, lips and tongues eagerly devouring. He tugged at her hair, and she dropped her head back, stretching the column of her throat. Thomas licked down her flesh. She rose up, offering herself to him. Greedily, he took her nipple between his lips. He nipped at the hardened tip, pulling a deep, erotic moan from her.
He quivered with need for her, his body taut and hungry, his cock hard and ready. It wasn’t just that it had been a long time before tonight, but that he’d gone forever without her. Until now. He suddenly wanted to go back in time, to relive the past five years with her instead.
But that was impossible, and he had no idea what the future held. That left tonight. He would savor every moment.
She released his cock and ran her hands up his chest, her fingers massaging his flesh. He sucked hard on her, unable to get enough. She ground down against him, her sex wet with desire.
Thomas reached between them and teased her folds. He pressed her clitoris, then speared his fingers into her sheath. She was so tight around him. He released her breast and cupped her nape to kiss her again.
“Ple
ase,” she begged. “Now.” She whimpered and breathed his name, the sounds an aural seduction.
Putting his hand over hers, together they guided his shaft into her sex. He went slowly at first, closing his eyes in ecstasy at the spectacular sensations shooting through him. Eager to claim her, he thrust up, hard and deep, burying himself completely.
He held the back of her head as his other hand stroked her backside. “Look at me, Beatrix.”
She opened her eyes, the lush green glowing amidst the warm, chocolate brown. Holding his shoulders, she moved over him, her thighs trembling against his.
He pumped his hips, clutching her body so he could drive into her. Looking into her eyes, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy, of rightness. He kissed her and increased the pace of their joining. Her fingers dug into his flesh.
Before he lost himself, he dragged his hand around her hip and slipped it between them. He flicked his thumb across her clitoris. She gasped into his mouth, and he snagged her lower lip with his teeth. Her muscles clenched around him, drawing a low, shuddering moan from his throat.
He held on as long as he could, filling her as she rode the wave of her release. When she started to ease, her body melting against his, he let go. He pulled her up and turned his hips, his seed spilling to the side.
As his orgasm raced through him, he was shocked to feel her hand curl around his cock, stroking his flesh as he spent himself. He struggled to catch his breath. She was still partially astride him, her legs straddling his lower thigh. He clutched her hip with his right hand, his fingertips splayed across her backside.
“My God, Beatrix. You are a wonder.”
“So are you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, his jaw, the hollow beneath his ear. Moving behind him, she burrowed beneath the covers, pulling them up as she snuggled against his side. He felt her breath on his back as her hand splayed across his rib cage.
Thomas closed his eyes, relishing her warmth and the utter peace of this moment. His body slowly stilled, as did hers. That joy he’d felt earlier coursed through him with even greater strength. He almost didn’t recognize what he was experiencing. He was completely overwhelmed, almost robbed of rational thought.
What was happening? Was he in love with Beatrix? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that she made him smile, he thought of her with ever-increasing frequency and intensity, and when he wasn’t with her, he strategized ways in which he could be. And for a man who was supposedly mourning his dead wife, this was difficult.
Right now, the fact that he’d had a wife or perhaps just Thea in particular seemed so far away. Another life, perhaps.
Except it had been his life. He’d been so desperate to find happiness and love that he’d barreled into a marriage he thought would give him both.
Was he doing the same with Beatrix?
He thought back to when he’d courted Thea. He’d originally been interested in Miss Jane Pemberton. But then his attention had been diverted to Thea. Her brother had told him that Miss Pemberton had already bestowed favors of a physical nature on another gentleman. Thomas had been so intent on finding a pinnacle of honesty and kindness that he’d turned his focus to Thea instead.
Then, just recently, he’d learned that Chamberlain had spread that vicious lie about Miss Pemberton with the singular purpose of driving Thomas to Thea. That revelation had come only a few days before Thea’s death, at Chamberlain’s aborted wedding to Miss Pemberton’s sister of all people.
Thomas had thought it was the final insult, that he ought to consider establishing a separate household from his duplicitous wife. But that had been before the she’d sent that most poisonous arrow into his heart: that Regan wasn’t actually his daughter.
If only he’d married Miss Pemberton.
Except then he wouldn’t have Regan at all, and he simply couldn’t imagine that. Nor did he want to. She might not be his blood, but Beatrix had known the truth—she was his daughter in every way that mattered.
Thomas opened his eyes, suddenly realizing that Miss Pemberton, now she was Lady Colton, was blonde and perhaps an inch taller than Beatrix, who was also blonde, as Thea had been. And he’d estimate Thea was an inch shorter than Beatrix. Did that mean he was drawn to women of a certain appearance?
Could it be that he was also drawn to volatile people? Not that Jane had been volatile. He hadn’t come to know her that well, but he recalled her being charming and witty—more like Beatrix than like Thea. Was Beatrix volatile?
He turned and saw that she was asleep, or seemed to be anyway. Her features were relaxed in repose, her lips curved in the barest hint of a smile, as if she was already dreaming of him. That was assuming he made her feel even half as wonderful as she made him feel.
She’d been a fraud and a thief, but he’d never seen evidence of volatility. He wouldn’t count their encounter with the footpads. She’d behaved defensively and bravely. Brilliantly was how he’d describe it best.
That she comported herself with such calm and purpose was in itself remarkable. She’d certainly led a life that would push anyone to their limits. Just her father’s abandonment and the way he’d treated her recently would be enough.
Thomas kissed her forehead and gently stroked her hair. “You’re very brave,” he whispered.
She inhaled through her nose but gave no indication that she’d heard him.
He watched her for a while longer. Her blonde lashes fluttered, and occasionally, her pink lips pursed slightly. He wanted her again with a ferocity that scared him.
Easing from the bed, he dressed. When he was finished, he returned to the bed and pulled the coverlet higher, to just beneath her chin. Hopefully, a housemaid wouldn’t find it odd that Beatrix was nude. Or maybe Beatrix always slept naked.
He grinned, thinking that with her, it was not an impossibility. She was surprising and singular. He’d never met another woman like her and doubted he ever would again.
But he was a man who’d relied too much on emotion and hope, and he couldn’t do that this time. He had to be certain, and the only thing he was sure about right now was that Regan needed him. She must come first, and she would.
Thomas touched Beatrix’s hand through the coverlet. Exhaling softly, he turned and went home to his daughter.
Chapter 15
The designated area for Lady Exeby’s picnic in Hyde Park on Thursday afternoon was just inside Cumberland Gate, situated between two paths amidst trees on a lush expanse of lawn. Selina and Harry were enjoying their time at home as newlyweds, so Beatrix arrived in the company of their friends Jane, who was the Viscountess Colton, and Phoebe, who was the Marchioness of Ripley. Jane’s sister, Anne Pemberton, was supposed to have joined them, but had decided to stay home. Though it had been three weeks since her wedding to Gilbert Chamberlain, who was Lady Rockbourne’s brother, had been interrupted by Chamberlain’s arrest for extortion, she was not yet ready for a Society event.
Both Phoebe and Jane were founding members of the Spitfire Society, and of course Phoebe owned the house where Beatrix currently lived. Their husbands had also come along, but they left to join another group of men almost immediately.
“Is this what happens after you wed?” Beatrix asked, looking at the separate groups of men and the groups of women. There was one area where men and women mingled, and upon recognizing a few of them, Beatrix realized they were unmarried.
“Somewhat.” Phoebe said, exchanging a look with Jane and then laughing. “I feel fortunate, however, because after we visit with our friends, we always find our way back to each other as soon as possible.”
That sounded so lovely. And romantic. Beatrix perused those gathered in search of Tom. He’d sent her a note yesterday saying how much he’d enjoyed the previous night and asking if she would be at the picnic today. He said he planned to be there.
“I’m sorry Selina couldn’t join us,” Jane said. “But I do understand how it feels to be recently wed.” She sent a rather wistful gaze toward her husband.
Beatrix followed her line of sight and saw the viscount was returning her look, and even from this distance, Beatrix could feel the heat between them. It reminded her of how she felt whenever she looked at Tom. Or touched him. Or was with him.
She searched for him again but still didn’t see him.
“Are you watching for someone?” Phoebe asked.
Beatrix shrugged. “Not really. Just taking stock of who’s here.”
Jane stepped closer to Beatrix’s side. “Are there any gentlemen who’ve caught your fancy?”
“No one in particular.” That was as great a lie as she’d ever told, but of course her relationship, or whatever it was, with Tom was a secret. She wondered if it would remain that way. As much as she’d loved the other night, she didn’t think it should happen again. She wouldn’t be his mistress, no matter how she felt about him.
And how was that?
She wasn’t certain, but she suspected she was in love with him. She’d nearly asked Selina, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. What if she was alone in her feelings? She wasn’t sure she could face another rejection after her father.
“Oh, there are the Spitfires,” Phoebe said with a grin. She linked her arm with Jane, who then linked her arm with Beatrix, and they made their way to where four ladies were gathered.
Their small circle opened to welcome the newcomers. Beatrix knew all of them from their meetings. The oldest was Lady Satterfield, a thoroughly wonderful countess who in many ways was the mother of their group. Her daughter-in-law, the Duchess of Kendal, was also present, as were two of her close friends, the Duchess of Clare and the Countess of Sutton.
“Good afternoon,” Lady Satterfield said. “Miss Whitford, how is your lovely sister?”
“Quite well, thank you. She would have loved to come today and looks forward to reentering the social whirl after she’s acclimated to marriage.” In truth, Selina wasn’t sure she would ever return to attending the number of events they had in pursuit of establishing Beatrix in Society. She was content to simply be a wife and a member of the Spitfire Society.
