But he wasn’t leaving yet, she told herself, refusing to relinquish any part of this night. His hands slid up her thighs beneath her knotted skirts to clutch her hips. Up he lifted her, onto the rearing source of all his danger, all his maleness. Then down, slowly piercing her womb and her heart with that simple act of intimate possession. Full possession.
She gasped as he thrust up, then gasped as he pulled away. Up and down. Thrust and withdraw. The promise of pleasure, the threat of separation. Like a battle they fought against one another, and together, side by side.
Fight, retreat. Trust, betray. Man, woman. Love, hate. Fiercer and faster.
Inside she could feel herself building to that violence she both feared and longed for. Yet she could not stop. Would not stop. Her cries filled the air and his laboring breaths. The bed trembled. The world trembled—
Something struck against the window.
Hester nearly didn’t hear it. But then another one hit, harder. Almost enough to break the glass. “What’s that?”
“Don’t stop,” Adrian groaned, using his hands to force her hips on and on.
But even he heard the third pebble—or perhaps it was the tenth. How could she be sure? This time they both froze.
“What the hell?” Adrian exclaimed. “Wait—”
But Hester pulled away as if scalded. Someone knew! Someone had seen his silent entry into her house. They’d seen the faint light through the drawn curtains and they knew exactly what it all meant.
In a panic she blew out the lamp, and for a moment she was blinded by the dark. But she heard Adrian rise and when he drew open the drape she saw his bulk against the window.
He peered through the glass. “Horace?”
He muttered the name like a curse, then followed it up with an imprecation so foul she’d never even heard it before. Still, she sensed the gist of it. Horace was outside her house?
Before she could reach the window, Adrian threw the drapes closed and whirled to face her. “Why is Horace Vasterling here?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to reach the window to see for herself, but he caught her by the shoulders.
“Dammit, Hester. Is something going on between you and him?”
“No. Of course not.” Then hearing the suspicion in his voice, her own panic eased. “I really don’t know why he’s here, Adrian. Unless…” Good grief, could it be? “Is he alone?”
“Yes—I don’t know.”
“Let me see. Let me see!” She tore from his grasp, then stared down into the darkened street. Horace, with his arm cocked to toss another pebble. And beyond him a smaller figure shrouded in a hooded cape.
Dulcie!
She sucked in a sharp breath. “They’ve run away!”
Adrian peered over her shoulder. “They? Who’s that with him?”
“Dulcie Bennett.” And the two of them couldn’t have come at a worse possible moment. With a sinking feeling Hester opened the window and waved to Horace, who enthusiastically waved back. At once he turned to collect Dulcie. Hester turned with far less enthusiasm to face Adrian.
“What’s this all about, Hester?”
“What do you think? They’re eloping. Good Lord. You have to leave here at once!”
“Horace is eloping with Dulcie Bennett? By damn, I knew I liked the man. But this?” He peeked through the curtains again. “He’s a good man, that Vasterling.”
“He must not know you’re here.” She grabbed his waistcoat and frock coat, and cast desperately about for his hat. “You have to leave, Adrian. Now.”
“I think he might have already seen me.”
Hester clutched his gathered clothes to her chest. “He didn’t.”
“He may have. But even if he did, he might not have recognized me. You’d better get down there, Hester. They’re waiting on the front stoop.”
Hester’s heart was racing, but whether from interrupted lovemaking, the shock of such untimely visitors, or the fear of being caught with her lover—and by her brother, of all people—she couldn’t say. Nor did she care. All three were dreadful occurrences in their own right. Together they were a disaster!
But she couldn’t leave Horace and Dulcie huddling on her front steps.
“Stay here,” she ordered Adrian. She thrust his clothes at him, then started for the door, trying to put her own clothing in some sort of order.
“Hester. Wait.”
“No.” She whirled about, holding one finger up at him as she might do to a recalcitrant student. “No. You wait. Wait right here in absolute silence. Just wait until I return. Do you understand?”
To her dismay, he let out a chuckle. He was laughing at her while her entire life was in the worst tumult of her tumultuous twenty-eight years. He tossed his clothes onto a chair, then with too little concern and too much grace, he sat down and stretched out on her bed. To make matters even worse, he then crossed his arms under his head and crossed his ankles as well.
She glared at him, wanting to slap him. How could he be so nonchalant when she was utterly panicked? To add further insult he said, “As you wish, Hester. I’ll be waiting right here when you return, ready to take up exactly where we left off.”
Aghast, Hester pressed a hand to her throat. “You cannot honestly think we can—”
“Of course we can. Now, shouldn’t you be heading downstairs?”
Hester had never been more bedeviled. A man in her bed and runaway lovers on her front steps. She couldn’t just leave Adrian here, but it was too late to make him go. And she couldn’t leave them out there.
Furious at Adrian, at herself, and at Horace’s dreadful, dreadful timing, she turned in a huff. Before she closed the door, however, she heard him laugh once more. “Hurry back, love. I’ll leave a light burning.”
Downstairs Hester lit a candle in the foyer, then had to count to ten before she could open the door.
Hurry back, love. She wasn’t sure whether to be angrier at the casual demand or the casual endearment. But she couldn’t deal with that right now. She shoved her hair behind one shoulder and opened the door.
On a gust of cool night air Horace hustled Dulcie in, then shut the door with a thud. “Thank God! Can you hide Dulcie tonight? I’ve got to arrange transportation.”
“Why didn’t you do that before? Hello, Dulcie.” She gave the wide-eyed girl a brief smile, then turned back to Horace. “This is not the way to go about such things, Horace.”
“I know. I know. But it all happened so fast. I went to see Lady Ainsley and such an unpleasant woman I have never met. I see where her son gets his vile nature, for she behaved like a perfect ass once I revealed my purpose—pardon my French. She made Dulcie cry with all her shouting and carrying on. I didn’t know what else to do. So… We’re eloping. I’m sorry if I startled you. I must say, however, that I was considerably relieved to see a light still burning in your upstairs window.” He paused and stared at her curiously. “Do you normally stay up this late?”
“Yes. Um… Yes, I do. All the time.” Hester was glad her back was to the light, else Horace might have read the guilt in her eyes. As it was, she feared she surely must exude an aura of frustrated yearnings, incomplete lovemaking, and unrequited love.
Oh, Lord. She must stop thinking about that word “love.” That foolish, maudlin emotion that had no basis in fact.
Except that when Horace put his arm around Dulcie and the girl looked up at him with such absolute trust, Hester had to believe that love did exist, at least for some people.
“Yes. Well,” she repeated. “I was reading. I had been reading and was just preparing for bed—” She broke off, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. “Come along. I’ll put Dulcie in the—” Not the spare room next to hers. “In the parlor.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Poitevant.” Dulcie grasped one of Hester’s hands with both of her own. “Thank you. It’s just for tonight.”
“You’re welcome as long as you need to stay. But I fear that once your mother discovers you gone, she
’ll come here first.”
“We know,” Horace said. “But I’ll be back to collect her before they even know she’s gone. Meanwhile, I’ve arrangements to make. Dulcie, go into the parlor, will you? I need a word with Hester.”
Hester stiffened. He’d called her by her given name. She hoped Dulcie hadn’t noticed his slip.
Out on the front steps he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I cannot thank you enough for your help. Everything you said is true. She loves me and is happy to live in the quiet countryside.”
“I’m very happy for you.”
“I told her about us.”
“Us? You mean that you’re my brother?”
“I had to. She wouldn’t have come here otherwise. She didn’t want to involve you, you see. But when I explained that we’re family, that you would be her sister-in-law, she relented. Anyway,” he finished, “she had to find out some time.”
Hester supposed that was true. “Does your father know about any of this?”
“I’m going to leave him a note.”
“Not about who I am, I hope.”
“No. I mean, I want him to know. But I’m willing to keep your secret, at least a little while longer.”
“So must Dulcie.”
“Of course.” Then he glanced up toward her window. “I say, I thought you had extinguished the light in your bedroom.”
Hester cast a worried glance up to the now glowing window. An incredibly arrogant, incredibly attractive man waited there to make torrid love to her. An impossible situation, yet she had a feeling Adrian Hawke would somehow manage to get his way.
“I relit it before I came down,” she lied.
“That quickly?”
“Horace, please! You must focus on the situation at hand.”
“Yes, yes. You’re right.” He gave her a swift, unexpected hug. “Thank you, sister. With any luck I’ll find Hawke and enlist his aid. I’m off, then. But I’ll be back before dawn.”
He was looking for Adrian? Once more Hester pressed a hand to her throat. If he only knew.
Good Lord, he must never find out.
“We’ll be waiting for you,” she managed to get out as he took his leave.
Horace hurried away, grinning into the night and feeling on top of the world. Once across the street he paused and looked back at Hester’s snug little abode. It now housed both his newly found sister and his newly found love who would soon be his new bride, then his wife, and hopefully the mother of his child—his children.
He fancied he could feel his heart swelling with emotion, so full of love and well-being that he wanted to share his good feelings with everyone. But especially with Hester.
She needed a husband, he decided. Someone to love her as she deserved to be loved. Once this brouhaha was settled he would have to put his mind to that task. At least she had abandoned those false widow’s weeds.
Then a horse nickered from somewhere nearby and the hack animal responded. Time to go, he thought, climbing into the vehicle. With any luck he’d be back in an hour or two.
CHAPTER 22
Dulcie had only to remove her shoes and stretch out on Hester’s settee and within minutes she was asleep.
Hester frowned down at her recumbent form, vaguely annoyed by the girl’s ability to abandon her worries to the peace of slumber. Didn’t she understand what a gigantic step she’d taken tonight, what monstrous changes she’d initiated?
Eloping was no small matter. Not only would George and Mrs. Bennett want her back for her own sake, there were the younger sisters to consider, the other Bennett girls. Their entrances into society would forever be colored by the older sister’s behavior, which was certain to be considered outrageous. Yes, Dulcie’s impulse would have repercussions far beyond this one evening’s work.
On the other hand, Hester speculated that more good than bad would come of the girl’s decision. After all, once Horace and Dulcie returned to London, happily wed and conspicuously in love, the gossip would fade away. Much was forgiven a couple if the right people considered them a love match.
So she banked her irritation and lowered the parlor lamp to a faint glow. Then with a weary sigh, she turned for the stairs. There would be no rest for her tonight, and tomorrow Mrs. Dobbs would surely remark on her pallor.
And now she must deal with Adrian.
Sending him away before Horace returned was certain to be a struggle. Especially since she did not really want to send him away.
Beneath her door a line of light seeped out. Horace’s suspicions had been roused because of that light.
“Why did you have to light that lamp?” she began as she opened the door. “Horace noticed and he asked—”
She broke off at the astounding sight that met her eyes. Adrian, naked from the top of his darkly waving hair to the tips of his long, well-shaped feet. Only one small corner of the bed linens covered the center part of him. Not his chest with its whorls of ebony-hued hair; nor his thighs with their fainter sprinkling of the same. Only a narrow strip at his hips was covered, and that so scantily as to draw her eyes straight to it.
She clapped her hands over her eyes, though it did little good. The image of him was burned into her brain. She would see it still, should she live to be a hundred or more. No woman with a pulse still beating would be able to forget how this man looked lying naked in her bed.
She turned to face the door, though that didn’t help either. “You must leave, Adrian. At once.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
She fought the urge to whirl around. “Dulcie is downstairs, and Horace will be back soon. Very soon!”
“Then we have time to—”
“No!” This time she did turn to face him, though she had to lean back against the door to support herself. Her knees had turned to water. “No,” she repeated, but weakly.
He sat up and swung his legs around. Fortunately he did not rise. “We have enough time, Hester. We’d have even more time if you would change your mind and come with me to Scotland. We’d have all the time in the world.”
Closing her eyes, Hester pressed her hands to her feverish cheeks. How she wanted to say yes, just throw caution to the winds and do exactly as she wanted. At that moment she could hardly recall why she’d previously said no to that same request.
“You don’t understand,” she began. “Horace has gone off to find you. You! He’s hoping to enlist your aid in getting him and Dulcie to Gretna Green.”
The seductive smile on his face faded at that. “They’re running away to Scotland?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’re going to Scotland; he’s going to Scotland. After all, it’s not so very far beyond his home.” She took one steadying breath, then another. “So you see, I couldn’t possibly go with you to Scotland. Nor can you stay here. It’s too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous?” The tiny furrow in his brow cleared. “Not too dangerous for me. Nor for you either. I’m beginning to think you thrive on danger. On deception and disguise. Have you forgotten our tryst in your parlor? Or in the Bennetts’ gazebo? And what about Vauxhall Gardens? No, my sweet, passionate Hester.” He stood up and the sheet fell away to reveal him in his full masculine glory. “If anything, there’s never been a better time for us to make love.”
Hester forgot to argue. She forgot to back away or even raise a hand to ward him off. All she could do was stare at the man advancing across her bedchamber. This would be the very last time she saw him—or kissed him or touched him.
She was not going to turn him away; she knew that before he halted mere inches from her. She made only one more protest. “We must hurry, for Horace is looking for you—”
Then she let him undress her. Indeed, when he moved too slowly, her hands began to untie and unbutton and unfasten her garments alongside his. Their fingers brushed and tangled. Their mouths followed suit, and all at once it was a race to the finish. Her clothes fell somewhere beneath their feet as he pressed against her. His skin w
as fire, scorching her with its passionate demand.
But he was no more demanding than she. For she wanted him now, right here with no time even to cross to the bed. Her hands tightened in his hair, forcing him to kiss her, making him devour her mouth with his while she devoured him back. Urgent, hungry kisses. One of his hands cupped her bottom, lifting her up against his raging arousal. His whole body shifted against hers, back and forth and again, in a form of caress that left her faint.
“Adrian,” she groaned against his lips.
In response he slid his hand along her thigh, angling it up until she wrapped that leg around his hip. Once more he shifted to allow his erection more freedom, and when she felt it prod the exposed opening to her femininity she moaned, ready and wanting what came next. Needing it.
He needed it too, for he came into her with one sleek, hot thrust. They both groaned. Then he hiked her other leg up and it was all she could do to hang on as he began the insane rhythm, the incredible stroking, the unimaginable thrusting that made her unable to deny him anything.
No one could have convinced her that this was possible, this fierce joining up against her own bedroom door. Impossible to perform, yet they managed. Impossible to survive, yet she felt she would die if she had to stop.
She could hardly breathe, hardly move, hardly be more aroused than this. When his thrusts came faster and faster, she knew he was at his peak, and she suddenly was too. He erupted into her and she erupted around him. On and on, laboring breaths, sweaty bodies, until they were utterly spent and could do no more than slump against the door.
“Hester.” Her name was a husky struggle for breath, but she’d never heard anything so sweet. She wanted to hear it again and again. Every night. Every morning—
Oh, God! She squeezed her eyes tight against the telltale sting of tears. She was in love with him!
The Bridemaker Page 27
