by Darcy Burke
Daniel had brought this piece of her father back to her. Daniel, who had spent the first days of his return accusing Emporia of being involved in Dalton’s murder.
Emotion bubbled in her throat until she could no longer contain it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Too much had happened in the past two weeks to stay sane. Slowly, her walls were breaking down and she didn’t know how to construct new ones.
“I knew it was important to you.” He drew back, arm still around her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head. The gun stuck out awkwardly over her lap.
His gesture was so bloody intimate that she couldn’t stand it, yet she ached for it to continue.
He sank down, the bed creaking under his added weight. The past hung in the air between them, tangible when he dared to link his hand in hers. She didn’t pull back, letting the warmth of bare palm on bare palm surround her, smoothing away her concerns.
“Katiebelle,” he started and stopped, seemingly as unsure as she was. “When I saw you hesitate after pushing the door open, I knew something was wrong. I should have been with you, sheltered you properly, taken the heat of the blast.”
“Nonsense.” She patted his hand. “Then who would have pulled me from the wreckage? I would say your timing was impeccable.”
“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You shouldn’t be involved in any of this.” His fingers tightened around hers, as if by the power of his grip, he could keep her away from harm. “But I bloody drew you into a fight that isn’t yours because I was selfish and I couldn’t bear the thought of not having you by my side again. I’m sorry, Kate. I jump from one foolish decision to the next, hurting those around me.”
She sat up a little straighter, balanced her weight on her elbows so she could look him in the eye. “You listen to me,” she commanded, echoing his earlier words to her. “You listen to me now. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back to London—maybe it put me in danger. But I am always in danger, Daniel, and that’s the life I’ve chosen.”
Maybe it wasn’t the life she wanted anymore. Maybe she wanted a life with him.
She squeezed his hand. Tried to remind herself that with the risk of fencing came her independence, but all she could think about was how she didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. “If it wasn’t Finn, it’d be someone else. You didn’t arm the charges of that bomb. I’ve blamed you for a lot of things, but this attack I refuse to assign to you.”
“I can’t reasonably ask you to continue to look into Dalton’s murder.” Daniel squared his shoulders, determination wrought on his black powder-streaked face. “Whether or not you release me of culpability, it’s too much. I won’t do that to you.”
She took her hand from his, grasped his chin and directed his glance to her. “It’s too late for you to make that decision. Somebody tries to make me into a Guy Fawkes effigy, I have something to say about it and I’m not going to stop until that bastard hangs outside Newgate.”
He grinned, a wide smile that sent a frisson of heat through her. “My bloodthirsty love.”
She should correct him. She wasn’t his, wasn’t anyone’s to own. This had been about Emporia originally, and maybe, a small part of it still was.
But as she sat shoulder to shoulder with him, she suspected that it had stopped being entirely about Emporia and become about them. She had known it would. Feared it deep down in those parts of her heart she kept locked up, for it meant for the moment she would not be alone.
She stole a glance at him, thinking she was being furtive, but his eyes locked on hers. He knew all her secrets and he didn’t judge her for them. When he stared back at her, she got the distinct impression he could see into her soul. The most damaged parts of her were on display for him and he didn’t run.
He stayed beside her. Removing the gun from her lap, he put it gently on the floor next to the bed. He angled his body so that he was closer to her, cross-legged on the bed, face to face. He inched forward, until his lips were so precariously near to her his breath tingled upon her raw skin.
“This can’t continue,” she murmured, fully aware she should back away, but caught up in him nonetheless.
“I disagree.” His voice was richer, thick with the Brogue he could not suppress in moments of real emotion.
“We tried once before. It didn’t work.” Her chest rose and fell with staggered breaths, suddenly light-headed.
“Circumstances change.” He traced her bottom lip with his calloused thumb.
“People don’t.” Little goose-bumps pricked her skin, far too alert to the feeling of his strokes.
“I’ve changed. I almost lost you today, Kate, and I won’t have that.” He pulled his thumb away and bridged the gap between them.
He kissed her with the laziness of a man intent on a long night of seduction, when before his kisses had been ones of claiming. He didn’t need to do that now, when they both knew she’d always been his and she’d never be anything but his.
She broke away. “I can’t promise you more than one night.”
He brushed another kiss against her lips. “One night is all I need.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nothing made sense anymore, only the glide of his mouth against hers. His kisses cascaded over her chin, until he found the hollow at her throat. His tortuous tongue flicked back and forth across her skin. Kate angled her head away, stretching out her neck to give him better access. The pressure of his lips made her insides clench with lust, until her mind was hazy. Only their clothes stood between them, fears cleared away by the devotion in their caresses.
He returned to her and she kissed him again recklessly, forgetting all her reasons why she’d resisted this until now. Forgetting the way he’d fled from London, the accusations that had been made against her father’s company, the struggles she’d had, everything but the sheer weight of his body pressed up against her own and the deliciousness taste of him. Fervor erupted between them. His lips smashed against hers, bruising tender skin, the pain only making her feel more alive.
Daniel understood her past and did not condemn her. She needed him as he needed her, the wildness she’d held back bursting at the surface.
His fingers brushed against her breasts. She leaned into his touch, straining against the busk in the center of her corset, resenting the restriction. He dragged his thumb across her right breast, moving the tattered gray fabric back and forth with his movement against her sensitive skin. With each stroke, pleasure built up within her, devilish, wicked pleasure that she could not deny—would not want to, for it had been all she could think of since he’d come back.
She couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t lean far enough into his touch. He pulled back, caught her eye. His lips were red from her kisses. A whimper fell from her lips, a sign of weakness that gave her no shame.
He swung around the other side of her, undoing the many back buttons of her bodice. Some had popped off in the explosion, making his work simpler. She found it somehow fitting that this time with Daniel would be when she looked out-of-sorts. That’s what they were to each other: chaotic, complicated, and utterly consuming.
He worked the long sleeves down her arms, his touch burning her. He unclasped the brass fixtures that joined her bodice to her skirt and then lifted her up. She kicked off her skirt with far more speed than she should have been able to muster—than was proper.
She wasn’t a proper lady anymore, damn it.
He tackled next her petticoat with its heavy corded twine rings, throwing the offending garment off the bed and toward the County Cork trunk in the corner of his room.
She wore a simple corset, modified so she could lace it up without the help of a maid: spiral laced in the back, but with cords that came forward and weaved into tabs in the front. The two strings tied together in a bow underneath her breasts, a bow his heavy-lidded gaze fastened on. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he made quick work of the laces, freeing her breasts to him. He tugged the shift out from undern
eath her skirt, up and over her shoulders.
“Kate.” He said her name like a reverential prayer, his voice thick and husky. His gaze slipped down her frame, drinking in her breasts, pink nipples hardened into tight peaks for him.
She should want to grab the sheet back up, to hide herself from his scrutiny. Instead, she leaned her head back. She gave in to the lush pleasure of his open mouth against her skin, tongue flicking over her breast. Before she knew it, her fingers were locked in his hair, keeping his head down where she needed it most.
He pulled away only long enough to shrug off his own shirtsleeves. Then again he was on her, giving her a slight push so that she would land on the bed, the pillow behind her head. Her body shook as he trailed his thumb down her frame, a line of fire wherever he touched. He worked her drawers down her legs.
A rush of cold air hit her, but then his hot skin was against her, the warring sensations only sending her higher. He dragged his thumb across the juncture of curls at her thighs. She bucked into his hand, impatiently urging him on, but he wouldn’t give in to her yet.
If this was insanity, then she’d go to it willingly. One night away from their problems, one night in which they didn’t worry if they might die in the coming hours. One night to honor all they had been and all they might be if she just stopped thinking.
***
Daniel had never known a finer drug than Kate Morgan.
As he leaned above her, thumb lightly tracing her innermost folds, he was all too aware that nothing else would ever do. The gin paled in comparison, a makeshift attempt at replicating how he felt when he was laying with her. Her breathy moan echoed in his ears, until it he knew nothing but the fact that he’d brought her pleasure and he’d continue doing so until the day he died.
In his mind’s eye he saw not her bare body writhing beneath him, coiled and ready for him, but the way she had looked underneath that broken dolly shop door. Still. Lifeless.
Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell with precious, shaky breaths. “God, Daniel,” she murmured, the raggedness of her deliriously rapturous voice sending a bolt of pleasure through him.
Unable to resist any longer, he plunged a finger deep inside her, stretching her. She arched against him, her head coming up from the pillow only to fall back again. He breathed it all in, the musky scent of her womanhood, mixed with the disturbingly real black powder. Black powder over everything, reminding him of what he’d almost lost.
He leaned down, pulling her legs high up around his neck, making her a veritable feast for him. Christ, he’d waited so long for this. He couldn’t believe it was happening until his tongue slid against her core, drinking in the taste of her. She shuddered underneath his hold when he brought the tip of his tongue against her, taunting her with a sly touch. Her hands fisted around the sheet as she struggled in his hold, but he was firm, keeping her steady.
He would not stop.
He’d make it last as long as he could.
Finding a rhythm that had her panting, he alternated between a nip there, a kiss here, a slide down her folds with his tongue before he thrust deep inside her. His name became a staccato chorus in their room as he drove her higher, finally hitting the spot he knew would send her to completion. He remembered her body like the catechisms he’d been taught as a child, worshiped her as a savior. He sucked against that precise center, faster and faster as she shook, the tension building within her until she finally collapsed.
“That was amazing.” She sighed contentedly. Tugging him to her, she gave his shaft a quick pump of appreciation.
He groaned, the touch of her hand upon him nearly enough to make him spill. Flipping open the clasp, he slid down his drawers and breeches, kicking them off. He had to be in her, joined at the hilt, until he could not tell where she began and he ended.
Through her he would come to grips with his failures, and rise again a new man.
Her gaze rested on him, heated and passion-soaked. She nodded, and that was all the approval he needed from her. With one knee on either side of her, he leaned forward, gripping the wooden headboard of the bed. He laid all his weight in his wrists to keep her injured body safe, though he couldn’t be tasked to stop. He should give her time to recover, but he couldn’t. Of all the fixes he’d had in the past three years, he couldn’t shake her.
Nestled between her hips, he guided himself into her, and then drove in with one fell thrust. She fit him like she was made solely for him and him alone. Let no other man take their fill, trespass against her, or hurt her, for she was his again.
Thrust by thrust, he filled her, sinking deep into her cavern, pulling out until he was almost gone and then diving back in. He was urged on by her nails digging into his shoulders, the desperate crescendo to her cries. It was sheer unending glory to be between her thighs again. The place he’d longed for since the day he left, where he felt closest to her. Nothing could separate them.
Her hands clasped his buttocks, pushing him deeper within her. He thrust harder, the bed-frame shaking in time. His knuckles turned white from gripping the frame. He’d be done soon, coming without her if she didn’t finish. He leaned down to kiss her, his tongue probing the inner corners of her mouth in sweet torture.
“I’m—I can’t—” She shuddered underneath him one final time, lost to the bliss.
He could hold on for one more thrust. One more glorious moment inside her, body to body. Perhaps another, and then he’d be truly done for it. Even longer…but no, he couldn’t. He tore from her, spilling on the sheets, not a moment too soon.
His arms gave out and he fell next to her. Idly, his hand ran up and down her arm, reticent to part from her. If he didn’t have contact with her, the moment would fade into the famous London fog and he’d be left with nothing. A man more broken than he’d been before.
But he wouldn’t think of that. He’d focus on the present, being with her.
Fatigue gnawed at him. He found himself too comfortable with lying beside her in the room that had so recently echoed with their lovemaking. When her breathing became slow and regular, he closed his eyes, finding respite in slumber.
***
Daniel stretched leisurely on the bed. His arm was slung across Kate’s torso, her chestnut locks spilled out over his pillow in the most succulent display he’d ever seen. He was vividly aware what he’d been missing these past three years. Here, with her snug against his body, he could not have been happier.
Gingerly, his thumb traced where her breast met her side, relishing in the luscious slide of her smooth skin against his finger. Everything about her was perfect, from the slight curvature of her hips to the plump orbs of her bosom. He wanted to always wake up tangled up in the sheets with Kate, her leg draped over his thigh, the sound of her quiet breathing filling the room.
He dipped his head down to place a kiss on her injured brow. Even in sleep she was not peaceful. Her lips were drawn into a frown and her hands curled tight in his pillow, as if by clasping it she could keep her surroundings from escaping. He understood why she feared him leaving, and even why she expected it as an absolute.
But all that would change today.
Kate had said it would only be one night, but one night would never be enough between them. The smell of powder lingered on her milky skin, and little particles of ash dotted his sheets. He hugged her closer to him, needing that reminder that they were alive and together.
Already, she had decided that they could be no more. She didn’t expect a commitment from him, but perhaps she needed him to make a gesture for her to see that they were meant to be. Perhaps then she could be certain of his affection, and give them a chance.
He hoped to God he was right.
She stirred, her eyes opening slowly. He looked down at her, smiling as she yawned.
“Good morning.” He entangled his fingers in hers.
“Oh.” She stared down at their joined hands, eyes widening as if the memories had flooded her mind.
He swallowed
, throat dry. Would she flee now? He gave her hand a squeeze, wishing he could imbue that grip with all his feelings for her, so she could finally be certain he’d never leave.
She shifted on the bed, grimacing at the movement. Edging away from him, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She hugged the sheet to her, covering her breasts, but she could not remove the memory of her bare skin from his mind. He missed the warmth of her thigh upon his, the gentle beat of her heart against his chest. His arm fell uselessly to the side of the bed, no longer wrapped around her torso.
“Did I hurt you last night?” He sat up too, not bothering to bring the sheet around him. He had no shame about his physique. “I should have given you more time to recover. But after what happened, can you blame me? The thought of you lost forever—I can’t imagine not being with you. Having you near me is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
He had to make her believe that.
She frowned. “You had the oddest way of showing it before.”
“I’m not going to leave you again.” He crept closer, taking her chin in his hands. He brushed his lips against hers in a kiss first tender, then heated, for now that he’d had another taste of her, he couldn’t survive without her again.
She went pliant in his arms. He memorized the response of her lips against his, the sweetest of caresses. He could stay there forever with her, his tongue darting out to the taste the moist heat of her mouth, but nothing would get resolved.
He snaked a hand behind her neck, angling her head so that he could examine the wound better. “That cut worries me.”
She winced when his fingers lightly stroked the tender skin above her brow. He patted the bed once and then pushed the sheet back. He felt her gaze on him, and he tilted his head back quickly to catch her looking at his bare bottom.
