Never Turn Away (Kellington Book Six)

by Driscoll, Maureen

  But Joseph could see neither Smithton nor Evelyn. He strode through the assembly room, his senses on alert. He didn’t like not knowing where she was. He passed the French doors where movement in the garden caught his eye. A moment later, he was striding toward Evelyn and Smithton.

  * * *

  Evelyn sometimes cursed the good manners she’d been raised with. Though the assembly room had been too warm after an evening of dancing and a few minutes on the terrace had sounded like a good idea when Smithton had suggested it, she was now not only cold but bored senseless with the viscount’s talk of modern tilling methods. But more than that, all she really wanted to do was return to the assembly room to see Joseph.

  “Lady Evelyn, there is something I must do,” said the earnest viscount.

  “Pray do not let me keep you, sir. I should return to the assembly room, as well.”

  But Smithton’s task turned out to be kissing Evelyn. With no notice, he brought his lips to hers, while also lightly gripping her arms. As kisses went, it might have been a good one, had she any interest in the viscount and especially if she’d never been kissed by Joseph. But she didn’t and she had, so she found the entire experience rather underwhelming.

  Underwhelming then shocking, as Smithton suddenly pulled back from her and then was thrown into a snow bank. She looked up to see Joseph as she’d never seen him before. He was facing Smithton, angry, with fists clenched, and an expression that dared the viscount to get up again.

  “What the devil was that for?” asked Smithton, as he struggled to rise from the snow, albeit far enough away that he was out of Joseph’s reach.

  “You were taking advantage of Lady Evelyn.”

  “I beg your pardon!” said Smithton.

  “Inspector, he was doing no such thing,” said Evelyn, fascinated to see Joseph so upset. Perhaps he did have feelings for her.

  “The lady was perfectly willing to kiss me, not that it is any business of yours. I even asked her permission.”

  Now Joseph turned to Evelyn. There was no trace of anger directed at her, just a wild sense of disbelief. “Is this true?”

  “In a way.”

  “In what way was that, my lady?”

  “He said there was something he needed to do, then he kissed me.”

  “Then I think I need to teach the viscount some manners,” said Joseph, as he moved toward him.

  Evelyn put her hand on Joseph’s arm, staying him. “It is most unnecessary, sir. And we are beginning to attract an audience.” She looked over to the open French doors, which now had a dozen people looking out at them. She addressed her curious neighbors. “There is nothing to worry about. The viscount lost his footing and landed in a snow bank. But he is not injured. Isn’t that right, my lord?”

  “No, I am quite unharmed,” said Smithton as he brushed the snow from his person. “Let us all return to the festivities. My lady?”

  He held out his arm to Evelyn in defiance of Joseph, though he was careful to place Evelyn between them.

  Evelyn graciously returned to the assembly room on his arm, mindful of the large, watchful male prowling behind them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The servants were contentedly tired as they all returned to the manor. Evelyn had told them not to worry about completing their chores for the night and that everyone should begin the day later than normal on the morrow.

  Judging by the members of her household, the assembly had been a great success. She was sure the servants would be happily reminiscing – and gossiping – about the night for weeks to come. Yet one person seemed most unhappy about the events of the evening.

  Joseph Stapleton.

  They’d stayed at the assembly for an hour after the incident with Smithton. She’d been ready to leave earlier, but hadn’t wanted to cut the night short for her servants who had too few opportunities to dance. So she’d stayed, continually aware of the large presence behind her. The one she could feel without touching. The one who made her feel as skittish as a hen when the fox was about.

  The one who made her look forward to kisses that she hoped would come.

  She waited in the foyer while he locked up the house. She watched the dance of candlelight on the walls and marveled how the home she’d known her whole life could seem so different after dark. It was a world of black and silver, of banked fires and the sound of the wind blowing against the shutters.

  Finally, Joseph finished his rounds and appeared before her once again. He’d spoken little since the incident, though she had a feeling he had plenty to say. But still he was silent, as he motioned for her to precede him up the stairs.

  When they reached the hall, he wordlessly guided her along the darkened corridor until they came to her room. She remained there for a moment, not wanting to part from him. She wished she had the nerve to kiss him. She wished he would guess her feelings and initiate the kiss. She wished something would happen to slice through the tension between them.

  He leaned toward her, then opened the door. “Good night, my lady,” he said, before executing a curt bow and walking to his own bedchamber.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to run after him and throw something at him, then kiss him. But instead, she entered her bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.

  She often felt lonely when returning from the Christmas assembly. She had a routine of donning her warm flannel nightrail and climbing into bed by herself. Before they’d departed, her maid had laid out the nightrail and set aside the ribbon that would secure her sensible braid. Evelyn thought of a certain Bow Street Inspector who’d once speculated that she didn’t brush her own hair.

  Confound the man for making assumptions. And confound him for not kissing her on this night that meant so much to her.

  She looked in the mirror. She looked the same as last year, though she had taken extra care in preparing tonight. Because of him. She looked the same, but something had changed. She’d dared to think of a future with him, despite his dangerous job. And she certainly wasn’t going to go to bed like a good little girl, without making her feelings known.

  She went to her wardrobe and pulled out her favorite silk nightrail. It had been scandalously expensive when she’d bought it in Paris a few years earlier. At the time, she’d justified the expense, saying she would put it aside for her wedding trousseau. But, even then, she knew it was more for her than a husband who might not ever appear. She wore it on spring nights when the smell of flowers filled her room. And she even wore it on cold winter nights like this one when she was feeling a bit lonely.

  Tonight, she would wear it like silken armor. Even if it wasn’t the most practical choice in sleepwear in the dead of winter.

  She put it on and pulled it into place, the silk fitting her like a second skin. She felt elegant and alive. And she was going to need all of her courage to complete her mission.

  * * *

  Joseph lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the many reasons why he should not venture up the hallway to Evelyn’s bedchamber. He’d been beside himself with jealousy when he’d seen the bloody viscount kissing her. And, even worse, her kissing him back. It had been bad enough watching her dance with all those other men. But to see her with a man who was of her class and who, was – as mentioned – kissing her, had been torture. Smithton was lucky he’d only been thrown into a snow bank. He’d wanted to knock the man into the next county.

  Evelyn had given very little indication of what she thought of Smithton’s kiss, other than she’d allowed it. She might not know about Smithton’s need for blunt or his expertise as a woodsman. She might only see him as a passably attractive peer whom she might marry.

  The thought of it made him want to punch something. Something named Viscount Smithton.

  Why did he have to feel this way about an earl’s daughter? Why could he barely restrain himself from throwing open the door to her bedchamber and kissing her senseless – and more? A woman of his class might be receptive t
o his advances in hopes of some other relationship developing. But that was simply impossible with Lady Evelyn.

  Still, he could not help thinking of making love to her. And, even worse, seeing her in his house. Not just warming his bed – though that would be a particularly rewarding pastime – but talking to him over dinner. Reading with him in the library. Nursing their babe.

  It was hopeless and he was a fool to think of it. He did not belong in this world, just as she did not belong in his.

  He wondered what Evelyn was doing, what she wore to bed. It was a cold night. He imagined she would probably be dressed in a white cotton nightrail. Possibly flannel. She probably braided her hair because how else would she tame those lovely long curls? He imagined her putting on a nightcap, but just as soon dismissed the thought because he could not bear to see her red curls covered. She was likely lying in her big comfortable bed, sunk low in the featherbed, under a comforter of finest down.

  If he were her husband, he would enter her bedchamber, pull back the counterpane and slide in next to her. Actually, it wouldn’t be her bedchamber. No separate bedchambers for them. It would be theirs. It would then be his obligation as her husband to keep her warm. Though he would not be above divesting her of her nightrail. If he came to bed without clothes, as he was right now, it would only be fair if his wife were equally undressed. Then they could lie together skin on skin.

  If she were still cold, he would feel it was his responsibility to climb on top of her, then kiss his way down her body, warming her with his lips. He was warming up right now just thinking of it.

  He took his cock in hand and began stroking, imagining it was her hand on him. Her lips on him.

  He began to stroke harder. He could imagine her climbing on top of him, lowering herself down and….

  There was a knock at his door. He was surprised he even heard it, with his attention elsewhere. Part of him wanted to ignore it and continue on with his fantasy, but what if Thompson needed him. What if an intruder was in the house?

  Without further thought to his previous activities, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown. He opened the door only to find the source of his fantasies standing in the hall, wearing a silk wrapper and with her long beautiful hair flowing to her hips.

  Good God, it would have been safer had it been an intruder.

  “My lady,” he said, quietly. He could not call her Evelyn. Not with her looking like that.

  “Joseph. May I come in?”

  Only if she wanted to be pounced upon.

  “Of course.”

  He opened the door, hoping his dressing gown concealed his erect cock. He stood in the doorway as she made her way around his room, as if seeing it for the first time.

  “I just wanted to see if you needed anything,” she said.

  “No, I have everything I need.” Especially since she was there now.

  “Good.” She continued her tour of his room, testing his control with every step. “It is a clear night. You can see the stars if you pull back the curtains.” She pulled them back and Joseph marveled at her beauty in the moonlight. “I came because I did not know if you’d seen the constellations. The room is particularly good for stargazing and I should hate for you to leave without taking advantage of it.”

  He did not know what to do. So he did his best imitation of being a halfwit by saying, “I do not know much about stars.”

  Because nothing impresses a smart woman more than abject ignorance.

  She smiled as she looked up to the heavens. “I like to think of how constant they are. They were there before Earth’s beginning and shall be there long after we mortals depart. I missed the stars when I was in London. There is generally too much light to have an unobstructed view like we have right now. There is the Big Dipper.”

  He was standing close enough to her that she was able to take his arm and point out the major lines of the stars. “It is part of the constellation Ursa Major. And if you follow the line down, you come to the Guardians. They were my favorites as a child. My father looked after me, protected me. Kept me safe from harm. Whenever he pointed out the Guardians, I thought he had sent those stars to the heavens to look after me. The silly thoughts of a child. But when he died, I would lie on the balcony at night thinking he was in the sky looking out for me. Guarding me. Loving me still, though he was no longer here to do so.”

  He could barely breathe with having her so close. With her touching his arm. His heart had ached long enough. “Let me guard you, Evelyn. Let me keep you safe, if only just for the night.”

  They were standing inches apart, yet their hearts were much closer. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Her response was everything he could have hoped for. She closed the gap between them, pressing down his front. He lifted her against his hard cock.

  He knew this was wrong. Yet he could not stop. She’d left an imprint on him when they waltzed. And now he could not stop touching her. Running his hands down her arms, across her back, against her bottom.

  He was prepared – yet not prepared – to have her tell him to stop. But by some miracle, she didn’t. She was with him on each heated step. Finally, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  * * *

  This was what she’d longed for, thought Evelyn, as she sank into Joseph’s bed and he lay on top of her.

  She couldn’t believe she’d come to his room. The delay before he’d answered had been agony. Then she’d seen him in his dressing gown and known she could not leave. Could not be a coward.

  She could feel his hardness pressed against her. She’d never felt anything like it. None of the men she’d ever had an interest in would have done something this passionate. She hadn’t wanted them to. But this was overwhelming in its intensity. In its heat.

  She moved against him on instinct and her moan came at the same time as his. He broke the kiss, then ran his lips down her neck. Her nipples were hard and felt abraded even by the soft silk of her gown. He cupped her breast and she gasped.

  Perhaps misinterpreting the sound, he pulled back. He had to tug just a bit to break her hold on his back. “Did I scare you?” he asked.

  “No, I…” she could not find the words for what she wanted to say.

  “Forgive me…”

  “No!”

  “No?” Now he looked truly worried. “I am so sorry, my lady.”

  “My name is Evelyn. I am only sorry you stopped, Joseph. I was just…surprised when you put your hand on my…” She was thankful the dim light hid her vivid blush.

  “I should not have done so,” he said, backing away.

  “But I am so very glad you did.” Where had this bold hussy come from?

  That stopped him. But she’d never seen anyone look so haunted.

  “Evelyn, this is wrong. You are a lady and I have been sent here to protect you.”

  “I have never felt safer.”

  “Yet, I pose a threat to you. I wanted to… I still want to…”

  “Then let us do so.”

  She raised her lips to his as she pulled him closer to her. She’d never had six feet of muscled man on top of her before and she liked the way it felt. But just with him. Only with him.

  He kissed her and the warmth from his lips washed through her. It took a moment to realize her legs were feeling a cool breeze, caused by his pulling her nightrail up.

  “So beautiful,” murmured Joseph, studying what he’d uncovered. “I knew you would be.” He ran his hands up and down her thighs and she tried to return the favor by touching his chest, though not knowing how to go about it.

  He did not have anything on beneath his dressing gown, so when her palm touched his nipples, he moaned. She took it as a sign that she was doing well in her explorations.

  He slowly moved down her body, opening her dressing gown and kissing his way from her collarbone to her breasts. She felt his warm breath on her skin and yearned to be closer. He licked her nipple through the silk and she almost jumped off the bed.
/>
  “Joseph!” she said, then immediately lost her train of thought. Or perhaps she’d simply wanted to say his name. Nothing mattered except for the exquisite feel of him sucking on her nipple and kneading her other breast.

  Her legs were becoming restless and she tried to wrap them around his waist.

  “Not just yet, love,” he said. “There are things I must do.”

  She had no idea what he meant by that. And, quite frankly, if it meant that he would stop playing with her breasts, she thought he should reconsider his plans. But he continued making his way down her body, while at the same time lifting her nightrail.

  She suddenly became aware that he was about to see things no one else had ever glimpsed. She had barely stolen a glance at that portion of her body. Yet, he showed no signs of stopping as he slowly made his way downward. He could at least have the decency to be quicker about it since the closer he came to the heart of her, the more she wanted him to be there.

  Finally, he arrived. He spread her legs, even as her hands came down to cover herself. It was one thing for him to be there. It was quite another for him to gaze upon it.

  “No, love. I’ll look my fill.”

  Then he moved his head even closer to her, with his lips but inches away from the most intimate part of her. She could not imagine anyone behaving thusly. She could not believe she was so fortunate as to be the object of his ministrations. Then she could not think because he began kissing his way from one leg to another, across previously forbidden territory. But now she would have to think of it as one of her very favorite parts.

  He moved his tongue across the heart of her and she jerked upright, unfortunately bumping his mouth with her body.

  “I am so sorry! Did I hurt you?” she asked, positive that no one had ever been so awkward.