‘Yes.’ The word resounded in the suddenly still room. He turned away from her as his look of anguish increased. ‘I wish you had told me about your niece’s parentage. I had assumed…’
Daisy’s stomach tightened. How much danger was Kammie in? ‘It did not seem important at the time.’
He tilted his head to one side and there was something in the way he held his shoulders as if he were waiting. ‘And you are certain that this child is your brother’s?’
‘He arranged her passage with his dying breath. She was his treasure. She has become ours.’
‘I had always thought their child died.’ He raised tortured eyes to her. ‘It is good to know that she is so well looked after.’
Daisy nodded, attempting to understand his mood. Tom had saved his life once. ‘I think Kamala and my brother were happy for the little time they had together. Kamala died giving birth, and the vicar’s wife said that my brother lost the will to live without her.’
‘Where is the child now? Is she healthy?’ He took a step closer, and seemed to fill the room.
Daisy bit her lip, knowing she should explain about Kammie’s falling sickness, and Felicity’s fight to keep her out of an institution. People tended to react badly once they learnt of the illness. Once, an employer had dismissed her after learning about Kammie, afraid that somehow Daisy might contaminate her own children. Daisy needed Adam’s help. Later, once everything was over, she decided. Maybe after Adam had met Kammie. After he’d seen her sunny face and heard her laughter, he’d understand. Felicity would approve of her decision.
‘She is with my sister in Warwickshire. My sister lost her baby just before Kammie arrived. A vicar’s wife who was returning to England brought her. It was providence. Felicity regained her strength and her purpose in life.’
‘It is good that you are looking after her. Not everyone would have.’ He ran a hand down her arm, sending warm tingles throughout her body. ‘You were working as a governess to support them. It was very good of you, Daisy.’
‘I am not good. The vicar’s wife who travelled from India said that she was Tom’s. I thought she must be the treasure that he wrote about,’ Daisy whispered as her body began to lean towards his. She could stop him any time she wanted, but right now she wanted his touch. ‘I thought maybe his letter might have a clue, but nothing. He sent the box, but it turned out to be a rattle. Only now I wonder…’
‘A rattle?’ His hand stopped, and hovered above her elbow.
‘I could never open it, neither could Felicity. Hers we opened straight away. Four moves and the lid lifted. There had been a letter inside, giving Kammie’s name, but nothing else.’ Daisy pressed her lips together, remembering the howl of anguish from Felicity’s husband and how he threatened to throw the box on the fire. No, unfortunately they were simply novelty rattles. Designed to provoke and tease, typical of Tom. ‘Did you know Kamala well? Only sometimes, Kammie asks about her mother.’
‘Well enough.’ His hand dropped from her arm and the shutters came down in his eyes. ‘She was brave and beautiful.’
A searing pang of jealousy went through Daisy. Adam had had feelings for Kamala. Had Kamala had anything to do with the necklace? Had she been the one to tell him of the curse? Daisy knew in that instant that she desired Adam and wanted him to look at her with eyes that smouldered. She didn’t want to think about murderers or curses. She wanted to feel his touch and to pretend that it was only for her.
‘You will have to tell Kammie when you meet her.’ Daisy forced her voice to be light as she tried to banish the jealousy.
He hesitated for the briefest of seconds before answering, ‘It was a lifetime ago, Daisy. There are other more important things like finding this gang of thieves.’
‘When will we know if the trap worked?’ Daisy swallowed hard. ‘May I come with you? I don’t want to stay here, waiting.’
‘Nightfall, if Webster doesn’t contact me first.’ Adam leant and brushed a curl from her forehead. His thumb traced little circles on her forehead, making it difficult for Daisy to think straight. ‘I can stay here for a little while if you are nervous that they might return. Webster will find me.’
‘It is very kind of you but…you and I alone together? People might talk.’
A smile transformed his face. Daisy wondered how many nights she would dream of that smile. ‘A word of advice—Miss Prim and Proper does not work when your hair is loose and your toes are peeking out from your gown. People will talk no matter what. Shall we give them something to talk about?’
‘You…’ Daisy grabbed her shawl and tightened it about her shoulders. The atmosphere shifted in the room, becoming more intimate. ‘I wanted to tell you about the letters.’
‘And I am grateful.’ His hand eased a lock of hair off her shoulder. The heat of him rose and surrounded her body, holding her. ‘Very grateful indeed.’
The words died on her lips as his fingers gently tilted her face upwards. His lips traced a lazy line along her temple and cheeks before coming to feast on her mouth, a persuasive touch that called to something deep within her. Daisy’s resolve weakened and she clung to his shoulders. His hard muscles moved under the shirt. Her forefinger touched the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
‘Please,’ she whispered, not knowing if she meant for him to continue or to stop. ‘Please, this is wicked.’
‘Wicked can be good.’ His hand burnt through the thin lawn of her dress, imprinting itself on the curve of her waist.
Daisy put her hand to her head and moved away from him. His heart belonged to another. He had as good as told her that. And yet she craved his touch. Had she fallen that far?
Daisy tried to cling to her sanity and all the while his hand lightly stroked the hollow of her back, making it impossible to think rationally. Behind, her bed loomed large. ‘Our agreement.’
‘Who will know? Who will question? People already believe, Daisy.’
His mouth returned to hers, covered it, devoured it and blotting out all thought but the burgeoning warmth inside her that grew more insistent with each passing breath. Her body arched forwards, her soft curves meeting his hard planes. She wanted to stop thinking and simply to experience, erasing any thoughts about attackers or ghosts. She had ceased wanting to think, all she wanted to do was feel.
‘I want to live. I do not want to end up dying, unloved,’ Daisy whispered, giving voice to one of her deepest fears.
‘You could never be that,’ he murmured against her ear.
She wrapped her arm about his neck, pulled him close and reclaimed his lips.
His arms went about her and, without realising how it happened, she found herself by the bed.
‘Softer than the floor, I think,’ she said with a catch in her throat.
In the early afternoon sunlight, his throat was a strong golden colour. His amber gaze watched her, much as he had watched that first morning on the riverbank. He ran a finger down the side of her face. ‘Why are you doing this, Daisy? Why are you seeking to seduce me?’
‘Because…’ Daisy searched her mind for the answer. ‘Because I want to. Because I want to finish what we started in the card room.’
Her heart whispered another truth. She wanted to because she was falling in love with him. She wanted to have one perfect time to hold in her memory. It was as if somehow the kiss in the card room had opened a Pandora’s Box, and she had no wish to go back to the narrow bed and frustrated dreams of a governess. If anything, her brother’s letters had shown her how short life could be. And now, if Adam was right, this was nearly over and he’d go away.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Do you need any more reasons?’
He moved his mouth down her neck and stopped where her gown fastened at her neck.
Slowly he undid several buttons until his hands skimmed the tops of her breasts. Her back arched as his fingers touched her erect nipples. The tiniest of touches caused them to tighten further. His hands encircled them. Then
he brought his mouth to the thin fabric, wet it, and caused it to go translucent so that he could see the dusky rose underneath the white. She wriggled slightly and an aching need filled her.
He put his finger to his lips and brought it to hers. She put out her tongue and tasted it. He gave a very masculine smile under hooded eyes.
He bent his head and suckled her breast. A sudden jolt thrummed through her. No one had ever explained about this. How it could feel. How every bit of her became alive at his merest touch.
‘You are overdressed.’ His fingers finished the rest of the buttons and pushed the material aside, exposing her breast. His firm fingers cupped it as his mouth once again approached. His cool breath caressed the erect nipple, sending wave after wave of pulsating heat through her. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for such a thing.
Her head thrashed on the pillow as her body craved release from the burning that threatened to consume her. Her body wanted something more. She moaned in the back of her throat as her body bucked upwards, seeking him and his mouth.
Then with one movement, he raised her dress, and her limbs were exposed to his gaze.
She moved her arms, hiding her nakedness.
‘Stay still,’ he said, his voice sliding over her skin. ‘Allow me to see your creamy perfection.’
‘I would like to see you as well.’ She reached up with her palm and cupped his cheek, the stubble rough but soft. Her thumb stroked along the line of his jaw. His eyes flared. ‘Please. I am undressed and you are…very…dressed.’
A frown developed between his eyes. ‘You must be certain, Daisy. I won’t be able to stop if my skin touches yours.’
Her hands tugged at his shirt, suddenly impatient. ‘What are you trying to hide from me?’
‘Nothing.’ He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. ‘If you wish to continue, then we will, Daisy, but I want no false protestations of modesty afterwards.’
‘I understand.’ Daisy raised herself on one elbow. Didn’t he see that she had already made her choice? She wanted him. She wanted to be loved once.
He took off his shirt, throwing it to the ground. A living statue of male perfection. Daisy tentatively raised her hand and touched his warm flesh. The glow of the fire had turned it to gold. She followed his lead, and her fingers squeezed his nipples, and stroked the sprinkling of hair on his chest.
He gathered her to him. They lay together, skin touching skin. Between her hips she could feel his arousal straining against his trousers. Her fingers strayed to the waistband.
‘If this is what you want…’ His lips brushed her temple. ‘I had planned it for our wedding night.’
‘I want you now, Adam.’ A momentary panic hit her. She tried to remember the whispered conversations of years gone past about how a woman pleasured a man. It was not necessary for a woman to do anything, according to Felicity. She was supposed to lie very still. She screwed up her eyes tight, dug her fists into the bed clothes so that she was not tempted to touch him.
The teasing of her breasts stopped. Cautiously she opened an eye. He looked at her with passion-filled eyes. ‘I prefer my women to be active participants. I want to give them pleasure. Relax and all will be well.’
She gave a brief nod as his lips nibbled at her bare shoulder and then slid down her torso, coming to rest near her belly button. Lazily, he drew circles, round and round, coming closer and closer until his finger dipped into her nest of curls.
A grasp was drawn from her throat and her body convulsed upwards as heat streaked through her.
‘Pleasure is anything but wicked,’ he said and rested his head against her stomach.
‘Is that all?’ she asked as the world returned to normal. Somehow, all he had done was to increase this burgeoning burning hunger. She raised a trembling hand and touched his bare chest again. This time she allowed her fingers to linger and to trail over his flat nipples. ‘You remain dressed, Adam. I want to feel your skin against mine. Your trousers on the floor…please.’
‘As my lady requests.’
He put his hand to his trousers, shedding them in an instant. The extent of his arousal became visible. Far larger than she had thought possible.
A ripple of power surged through her. She had done this to him. She reached out her hand and touched it. Velvet smooth, but with an underlying strength. Her eyes flew to his face. He gave an encouraging nod, and she touched him again. Firmer. Longer. Enjoying the hot feel of him, she knew that all those who said that this was wrong had no idea. It felt so very right.
His hand covered hers, pulling it over her head. His mouth turned up in his special smile. ‘No more now. We have serious business to attend to.’
He positioned himself between her thighs. One hand held her wrists while his other inched lower, sending stars shooting through her. He stopped and played in her nest of curls and then found her innermost spot. He stroked. His finger went inside her, caressing. Her body tightened about him as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her. She lifted her arms and held him tight. They were together, connected, and she wanted it to continue.
His lips nuzzled her ear. ‘It will hurt for a moment, but then it will get better. I promise you that.’
His knees wedged her legs apart, and the tip of him nudged her, demanding entry.
Her eyes flew to his and saw the immense look of concentration. She felt the slight pain and then a quick ache. His mouth absorbed her cry, but her body opened and expanded, welcoming him.
For a long heartbeat, they lay there joined. She knew that she could not go back, but had no idea what to do next. Slowly he started move. Gently, and the storm inside her grew again, reaching a crescendo, until, with a cry, she collapsed against the pillows, spent. And she knew that this was what it was like to live.
Chapter Thirteen
Adam regarded the pale oval of Daisy’s face. Her long hair flowed over the pillows. A stab of guilt coursed through him. He had seduced her, deliberately. What he had done was wicked. He knew that, but with Daisy standing there, looking at him with her big eyes and the stubborn set to her chin as she asked to go and hunt the thieves with him, the urge to be with her had been irresistible.
He hated not having the marriage ring on her finger before this had happened, but it did bind her to him. Irrevocably.
Now she could sleep. And when she woke, the danger would be over. And they could marry, live their lives in peace.
It had been a shock to learn that Kamala’s child, his child, lived. He had been certain that she must have died with her parents. And then to learn that for all these years, Daisy had worked to keep this child alive. And soon they would be a proper family.
‘Daisy,’ he whispered against her temple. ‘You sleep. There is no need for you to fight or get hurt.’
Adam glanced over at the window and saw the sun had moved and was just beginning to peek through the side of one of the curtains. He reached over and pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat. Time had slipped through his fingers. He could no longer afford to wait for her to wake. He kissed her shoulder one last time. She gave a vague murmur and turned over, perfectly content in her sleep.
Reluctantly he eased his body from the bed and dressed. He frowned as he looked at his neckcloth. It was unlike Webster to have put out a neckcloth with a bit of fraying. He would have to have a word with him once this little episode was over. Simply because one was searching for an armed gang did not mean that one allowed one’s standards to slip. He had felt certain that his manservant understood this.
Before leaving, he picked up Daisy’s discarded petticoat and stays. He straightened up the room, leaving nothing except the sleeping figure in the bed to show that they had experienced passion. He refused to risk slipping her nightdress on and waking her. But the maid should not notice anything was amiss.
‘I will look after you, Daisy Milton,’ he said, looking at the slumbering figure. ‘But when will you stop being so stubborn? Stay here and all will be well.’
&n
bsp; His heart pained him. He was in danger of doing the one thing he had promised never to do and that was to fall in love again. Quickly, without giving himself time to change his mind, he reached for the book of Keats and turned to the ‘Bright Star’. He picked up a pen and replaced a single word. Then he put the book by her pillow where she was certain to find it if she woke before he could return. Or if he failed to return.
He shook his head and dismissed the premonition as ridiculous. He would return and then he would say the words properly.
* * *
The slightest of clicks of the door caused Daisy to wake. Late afternoon sunlight peeked in through a crack in the drawn curtains. She blinked and reached out a hand. The covers of her bed were drawn tight around her, but underneath she was naked. She had never slept naked in her entire life.
With cautious fingers she examined her mouth. Bruised. She attempted to move and found she had aches in places that she had no business aching. She had hoped that it was some strange waking dream, but knew it was not.
Her face flooded with crimson heat. She had begged a man she was not married to, to make love to her. Why? Because she wanted to appreciate it? Because she wanted to demonstrate that she was something more than a prim-and-proper governess? The word still taunted her. All she knew was that she had fallen in love with him, a fact that he must never know. He had made love to her and had left before she woke. It frightened her.
She moved her hand and a book tumbled to the ground with a thump.
‘Ah, you are awake, ma’am.’ Polly’s cheerful voice resounded in the room. She bustled in carrying a tray and closing the main door behind her with her foot.
Daisy swallowed hard, hating to think what it must look like. Had Polly met Adam in the corridor? What would have happened if she had come into the room where they lay entangled on the bed together? Then all hope of her retaining her independence would have gone.
Instantly she forgave Adam for leaving in the way that he did. He had shown far more sense than she appeared to possess. No one must suspect that they had been together.
Compromising Miss Milton Page 19
