This was a mistake. She should tell him to leave. She was confident that even now, at this late juncture, Luke would do as she asked.
Before she could act, Luke gently removed the candlestick she clutched in her hand and placed it on a low table. She realized she’d stood frozen in the middle of the room for what? A minute? An hour?
He softly cupped her faced in his hands and lowered his mouth to cover hers with a whisper of a kiss. “It’s all right, beloved,” he said, as if he had recognized her discomfort.
She melted into the kiss, her arms sliding around his waist. Through his fine linen dress shirt she felt muscles tighten and shift under her hands. His shirt? She pushed back in surprise. Behind Luke lay a trail of discarded clothing—jacket, waistcoat, even his shoes, left in an odd pigeon-toed configuration.
Following her glance, he shrugged and gave her a mischievous grin. “Yes, I hear the ghost of my nanny scolding, but what else could I do? You were so far ahead of me.”
She chuckled and the uncertainty that had assaulted her disappeared. This was Luke, the man she loved and who loved her in return. Here was warmth and acceptance. She had nothing to fear. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his smiling mouth down to hers.
His tongue dueled with hers as his fingers made quick work of the knot holding her robe together. He kissed down the side of her throat as he slid the wrapper from her shoulders to pool at her feet. His hands moved from her arms to cup her breasts, teasing the peaks with his thumbs through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
She made a surprised mewing sound. Heat crept through her, concentrating low at the junction of her thighs. Her breath came in shallow pants. She leaned into his caress.
His hands moved, and she was suddenly swung off her feet and cradled next to his chest. In four long strides, he’d gently deposited her in the middle of her rumpled bed. He effortlessly followed to lie along one side.
“Your nightgown is as prim as I imaged,” he said, nimble fingers already loosening the buttons at the neck. “Do you think we can dispense with it?”
Her first impulse was to clasp the garment to her, but the butterfly kisses he bestowed on the area of her chest he was exposing changed her mind. She wanted very much to be skin to skin with him.
“Only if you can quickly catch up.” Her voice was surprisingly husky.
She’d just finished speaking when he stood at the side of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Her hand, which had been reaching for the bottom of her gown, stopped in mid-motion. She’d seen his chest when he was injured. Actually, she had seen all of him. But not like this.
This was a virile man, not one who was lying injured and feverish, and this made a huge difference. The candlelight shadowed his impressive musculature and highlighted the band of hair that ran from one flat nipple to the other and then arrowed down to where he was unfastening his fall.
He leaned down, stripping off his formal breeches, small clothes, and hose in one smooth motion. Caro admired his taut buttocks and powerful thighs. Then he turned back toward her and oh my goodness! She’d thought him impressive quiescent. Aroused, he looked like the Hindu temple sculptures she’d dismissed as impossible.
Her eyes surged back up to his face in shock. He was grinning. “You seem to have gotten way behind. Let me help you.”
Then he was kneeling beside her on the bed. He gathered the bottom of her nightgown and lifted it. She shifted her rear off the bed enough for the fabric to clear, and he whisked it over her head. With a slight pressure on her shoulders, he eased her back flat. He knelt there, staring at her.
She would have felt embarrassed had his face not held a look of awe. “My God. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Caro stretched her hands toward him, needing to feel him, skin to skin. He bent and kissed her lips, her eyes, her chin, and downward until he took her one sensitized breast into his warm mouth while fondling the other. She groaned and gripped his shoulders. The earlier heat she’d felt became molten and moisture pooled between her thighs. His hand moved down her stomach until he cupped the burning part of her. Unconsciously she splayed her legs and rose into his stroking hand.
A small, conscious part of her brain recognized this as desire. Desire she’d never before known. Glorious, soul-shattering desire. “Please,” she murmured, wanting something, wanting more.
She had never imagined he’d replace his stroking hand with his mouth. Every muscle in her body tightened, her back arched, and her world shattered with a sharp cry.
He kissed his way up her body until he was lying over her, his torso supported by one of his corded arms, his arousal resting in the cradle of her legs. He entered her with one swift thrust. A quick pain and then a wondrous feeling of completion. Luke began to move and she followed his lead. The impossible tension built again, but she now knew what lay beyond the peak and strove for it. And then she was over, falling free. Crying her name, Luke joined her, collapsing to press her into the mattress.
He rolled to one side, pulling her with him until they lay tightly spooned together. He idly ran his hand up and down her side as their breathing returned to normal. “I love you,” he said, “and I’m going to spend night after night showing you how much.”
He gently kissed her temple and then to her surprise, rolled out of bed.
“What…?” She reached for him, not ready to relinquish the feeling of flesh-to-flesh.
“I have to go before your staff begins stirring.” He was already leaning over to retrieve his strewn clothing. “Lovers by necessity must be discrete. Husbands stay, but lovers always leave before the sun and gossip finds them.”
He dressed with amazing speed. All the while, she wanted to plead, “Stay! Stay!” But Luke was once again only following her dictates. This was the path she’d chosen. Tears filled her eyes, but she’d blinked them away before he returned to kiss her on the forehead, snuff the candle, and depart.
Then she let the tears come. They eventually became sobs, which finally evolved into whispered curses as pale dawn found its way around the edges of her drapes.
Changes in the Patterns for June 1825
“You found nothing?” In frustration, Luke raked his fingers through his hair and slumped back in the threadbare chair in the sitting area of his rented rooms.
“There’s no evidence of any jewels at your brother David’s townhouse—well, except for the big diamond you’ve already seen, and you told us to leave that in place. We also checked at the house where David keeps his mistress. She has a few baubles, but they’re nothing but paste. I imagine the poor girl thinks they’re real, but my man says otherwise.” Tremaine sprawled in a matching chair, booted feet casually crossed. He looked totally relaxed. Well, why wouldn’t he be? His only motivation was curiosity, while to Luke, finding those gems meant everything.
“I’ve exhausted my ideas of where to look, “Luke said. “I guess we’re through.” Lord, he hated to say those words. The very thought that the gems were forever lost made him nauseous.
“Maybe at your father’s…”
“No. My father is a self-righteous idiot, but I’ve never known him to be anything but scrupulously honest. If he said the gems had been sold to aid other émigrés, this is what he believed.” The admission was difficult but probably true. His anger at his father for so easily believing the worst of him had colored his view of the situation. His father had often been overly stern, but he had never been unjust. If he’d had the stones, he would have handed them over to Luke, albeit grudgingly.
“Well, since we know David has at least one of the gems, there’s every reason to think he knows where the rest of them are. We just have to ask him.” Tremaine’s smile was feral.
Luke uttered a filthy curse. “Yeah, we just ask him. I don’t think there’s much chance that we’ll get an answer.”
Tremaine hadn’t moved at all, but something about him shifted from seeming like a cat asleep in the sun to one wait
ing patiently for a bird to land in striking distance. “There’s asking—and then there’s asking.”
“As in…?” Luke raised one eyebrow quizzically.
“As in, I hire some muscle, and we snatch David and apply a bit of pressure until we get answers.”
“Good Lord, Tremaine, David’s a thief, but he is my brother. No one wants to know the truth more than I do, but we can’t use torture to get it.”
Tremaine laughed. “There’s torture and then there’s the threat of torture. Most people are afraid of the idea of pain more than the actual pain. All you have to do is make them think they will be hurt, and they’ll disclose all but the most closely held secrets. Every time I’ve laid a razor against a man’s privates, he’s told me everything I wanted to know, and I’ve never nicked a one. Well, no worse that his valet might have done to his face.”
Luke wondered if he really knew his friend. And perhaps more importantly, if he wanted to. “And just how many times have you held a razor, eh, there?”
“Four or five times. And I can guarantee that it has always worked.”
“Heavens. I assumed you worked for king and country, but this sounds like you’re a collector for an unscrupulous moneylender.”
Tremaine straightened in his chair and shot Luke a look of disdain. “I did indeed do all sorts of questionable things for king and country. Most of it while you were a lad hiding from his tutor and stealing sweets from the kitchen. If I hadn’t done those things, there’s a good chance that you’d be speaking French as your native language. But since I’d learned the skills…” he suddenly shrugged and smiled. “What can I say? I get bored. I still do the occasional favor for Whitehall, but I also take private commissions. Case in point—I’ve been trying to help a friend find a hoard of jewels. Does that sound familiar?”
“Of course it does. And I appreciate your efforts. It’s just that there seems to be a great distance between skulking around and pommeling someone.”
Tremaine scowled at him as if he were a none-too-bright schoolboy. “First of all, what you refer to as ‘skulking’ most often involves breaking and entering, a much more dangerous activity that is guaranteed to get the blood flowing in one’s veins. And I already told you, I never pommel anyone. I threaten—and that is usually all it takes.
“In your half-brother’s case, I suspect it won’t even take threats.” Tremaine’s smile was not pleasant. “He’s always been a coward. I bet he’ll fold the minute he’s grabbed. Don’t you want to get your hands on your legacy, or do you want to spend the rest of your life taking money from women like the pretty widow Rydell?”
Luke felt his hackles rise. He’d never taken a penny from Carolyn Rydell. He’d eaten her food, that was true, and they met at her house. But what else could he do? He could hardly bring her to his bachelor quarters. While the address was good enough, the interior bordered on shabby. No, he could never bring her here.
And he certainly couldn’t expect her to marry him until he had a decent income and wasn’t a pauper. The very idea of seeming to be a fortune hunter stuck in his craw. So, yes, if he were honest, he was willing to do anything to get his legacy back. Even if it included a tiny bit of judicious torture and pain.
“I’ll go along with frightening the truth out of David,” he said, wondering if Tremaine could tell this was an understatement.
“Good.” Tremaine looked delighted. “Tomorrow night would be ideal. He always visits his mistress on Tuesdays and leaves around eleven. Your brother is—”
“—half.”
“Your half-bother,” Tremaine corrected, “is a creature of habit. I’ll arrange for some bullyboys and an anonymous hack. We can meet here around nine and then wait outside his little love nest until he leaves.”
“You want me to come with you?” Luke asked. Tremaine had previously rejected his help. He’d said Luke’s inexperience would probably get them both caught.
“Of course. I think this is one time you need to be included. If you don’t speak, he’ll never know you’re there. And this way, you can hear exactly what he has to say.”
Luke felt his heartbeat speed up. Yes, this was something he definitely wanted to be part of. “I’ll be ready at nine.”
“Good. Wear old, dark clothing. Imagine you’re going to clean out the stables and dress appropriately.” Tremaine laughed. “It’s my hope we get rid of a lot of shit tomorrow night.”
He got up and clapped Luke on the shoulder. “I’ll take my leave now. It’s about time for you to visit your light-o-love and since you’ll be missing your assignation tomorrow, you need to make the most of the time you have tonight.”
Tremaine sauntered out the door. He was a slender, graying man who could easily be overlooked in a crowd. Tremaine was obviously someone who made a better friend than an enemy, and Luke was happy he counted as a friend. The fact that Tremaine not only knew David’s schedule, but Luke’s as well, was disconcerting, however.
Of course, his visits to Carolyn’s house were hardly secret. He’d tried to be discrete, but there was little doubt that her staff knew what was going on. Perkins certainly did. If looks could kill, Luke would be dead. Obviously, the man thought Luke was taking advantage of Mrs. Rydell.
Luke hoped this wasn’t the case. Lord, how he loved the woman. He wanted only her happiness—and he truly thought being married to him could give her this. But only if he were in a financial position where people couldn’t whisper that Caro had had to buy an aristocratic husband. As tarnished as his reputation was, he was still accepted by the ton, and foolishly, she was not.
If tomorrow night’s mission changed his fortune, he would no longer take no for an answer to his proposal. He felt he was wearing down her concerns about her heritage. He smiled. The act of changing her mind was mutually enjoyable. Very enjoyable indeed.
Caro kissed the side of Luke’s neck and ran her fingers through the soft, tawny hair on his chest. She loved the springy texture, which seemed as alive and full of energy as did Luke himself. She enjoyed these quiet times after passion had spent itself. She relished the closeness she felt during these relaxed moments. They gave her an opportunity for contemplation that the blinding delight of their lovemaking didn’t afford.
“What are you thinking about?” Luke’s sleepy voice came from above her head. “I can hear you thinking.”
She pushed up on one elbow and looked down at his face. “You can’t hear anyone thinking.”
“I can hear you,” he said with a grin. “You make this low hum, kind of like the sound of a light rain on the window. That’s your thinking sound. You make other ones, of course. I’m particularly fond of the noise you make right before you come—”
She placed her hand over his mouth. “I don’t need to hear a catalogue of my strange sounds.”
“Ere na ange.” His lips vibrated under her fingers, and she laughingly moved them away.
“As I was trying to say,” Luke continued, “I love the noises you make, and they’re not strange. But when I hear the thinking sound, I know to pay attention. So, what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing all that important. Just an irritant. Sanjeet told me today that Gerald, my slimy nephew-in-law, has shown up at the Blackwall Yards where our new ship is being built. He’s been acting as if he has some control over Rydell Shipping and has made suggestions for changes that would add months to the completion, not to mention adding hundreds of pounds to the cost.
“Sanjeet has assured the shipyard manager that Gerald has nothing to do with the company, but it’s hard for the manager to ignore someone with a title. Especially when the real contacts are an Indian and a woman.”
“I thought Kelton had disappeared after you made it clear his threats about your marriage were useless. Of course, we have taken care of that ‘inconvenient virginity’ problem, should that ever come into question.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows and grinned lasciviously.
She playfully gave some of his chest hairs a quick jerk. “Any villager i
n India could tell you that just because you can’t see the cobra doesn’t mean he’s not lying in the deep grass waiting to strike. We only thwarted Gerald’s plan to try to prove my wedding to his uncle was invalid. And beyond the matter of my virginity, I do need your help.”
Luke was immediately serious. “What do you need?”
“I’d like you to go to the shipyard with Sanjeet tomorrow and introduce yourself as one of Rydell’s principal investors—and then make it very plain that Lord Kelton has nothing to do with any of our projects.”
He laughed. “What you want me to do is have Lord Lucien Harlington out-lord Lord Kelton, probably by mentioning my father the marquess a number of times. Do I have it right?”
Caro felt embarrassment heat her face. “Yes. I hate to ask you do to this. My word should be all that’s needed, but that’s not the world we live in.”
She waited for Luke to see her words as an opportunity to again press her to marry him. As Lady Lucien, she would have more clout than plain Mrs. Rydell. To her surprise, he said nothing. Perhaps he’d become satisfied with just being her lover. Oddly, Caro wasn’t sure if this made her feel better or worse. It was, after all, what she said she wanted.
Luke had been coming to her bed for over a week now—and it had been wondrous. She now wished he’d lied about a marriage not needing to be consummated to be valid. If he’d supported her misconception, they could have been enjoying this incredible relationship for much longer. Luke had awakened something within her she hadn’t known existed, and she felt like a flower finally coming to bloom. Luke’s presence filled in all the blank spaces inside her, holes in her life she hadn’t even realized existed.
When it quickly became apparent that he would be visiting every night, the excuse of his coming to dinner had to be dropped. His coming twice weekly had already been noted and questioned by some of her gossiping neighbors. And so he now arrived well after the dinner hour, coming in through the tradesman’s entrance at the back of the house. This way, his horse was hidden in the mews and he could use his own key without alerting her staff.
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