The Hero Least Likely

by Darcy Burke

  Philippa’s eyes shone with pity. “Oh, Audrey, I had no idea.”

  No one did, because Audrey had never shared the true humiliation that was her life. To her parents, especially her father, she was at best a pawn, and at worst, a hindrance. She’d long ago accepted her lot, but that had been when she’d assumed she’d marry and establish herself as someone’s wife and mother. But with no marriage proposal, year after year, that expectation had withered and died. When the blacksmith’s son had told her of his desire to go to America, she’d leapt at the opportunity to reinvent herself in a new place. Her parents had convinced her it had been reckless, though as she’d resumed her stagnant life she’d decided it hadn’t been, not when she truly believed there was nothing beneficial about her life in London. That’s why when the chance came up again—with Ethan—she hadn’t hesitated. And this time she wouldn’t have to go back to her useless existence. Her reputation would be tarnished enough that it would likely be impossible.

  Audrey forced a smile, her lips feeling tight and thin. “It’s all right. I’m sure things will work out for the best. They did for you, didn’t they?” As they had for Lydia and Olivia, Audrey’s other dear friends. So many happy endings; it seemed unlikely she would find one too.

  With a last empathetic look, Philippa turned and left. Audrey lay back and stared at the canopy overhead. It was hung with a rich, gold velvet, with drapes that pooled on the floor at each post. The bed itself was a massive piece of furniture, rather masculine in its size, but the gold hangings and stitched coverlet gave it a feminine touch. She ran her fingers over the outline of a leaf. Who had worked this thread and when? Had she lived here? Mayhap she’d been a spinster like Audrey would be—doomed to a life alone and without love. Had anyone even missed her after she’d passed? Would anyone miss Audrey?

  She didn’t know how long she sat there nursing her maudlin thoughts, but the click of her door opening and closing drew her out of her reverie. “Philippa?”

  Ethan moved further into the chamber. “No.”

  He prowled like a cat, his booted feet moving without sound. He wore only his shirtsleeves, the collar open at his throat. His dark hair was carelessly rumpled, as if he’d been lying down, but he’d shaved his face, leaving every contour and dimple naked and overwhelmingly attractive. His gray eyes raked her from head to foot with a sense of possession.

  Her entire body came alive, her seconds-ago sadness immediately cast aside. “Why are you here?” She ought to tell him to leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to banish him.

  “I know you said you didn’t want to see me, but I can’t leave tomorrow without . . .” He looked away and it was the first time he’d appeared uncertain, anxious.

  Her heart leapt at the change in him, but she cautioned herself not to capitulate to her attraction to him. Just because she didn’t want to be alone didn’t mean she should accept him. Even if she wanted him. Which she absolutely did.

  He refocused on her, his chin set as if he was working up his courage. She would’ve smiled if she hadn’t been wound like a clock.

  “I can’t leave tomorrow without seeing if there’s any chance you would still come with me.”

  She felt like her heart might beat out of her chest.

  He stepped toward her, his gait slow and purposeful. “I know I’ve given you every reason to hate me, but I want to leave my past behind and the best way I can see to do that is to start somewhere new with you—somewhere we could both be safe. If you want me, that is.”

  The urge to wrap her arms around him and kiss him senseless was so great that it paralyzed her. Or maybe that was her doubt and her fear keeping her fixed to the edge of the bed.

  “What do you mean, ‘somewhere new’?” Her voice sounded distant, strange. Her breath caught.

  “Anywhere you want.”

  Five days ago she’d wanted nothing more, but that had been before she’d watched him kill—again—with such brutal precision. Before she’d learned what he’d done to Philippa. Before she’d truly understood the horrors he was capable of. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about those things just yet. “But you wanted to return to London and fight for your innocence.”

  “I did.” He went to the hearth, where the fire had burned low. He picked up a poker and stirred the coals, coaxing the flames into an active dance. “There is every chance I would hang.” He replaced the poker and turned back toward her, his eyes bleak. She’d never seen him look like that—forlorn and lost. She imagined that was how he must’ve looked after his mother had died.

  She stood from the bed and took a step toward him.

  “How can I face the end of my life,” he said softly, each word rustling over her like a lover’s caress, “when I feel as if it’s just beginning?”

  Audrey threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth. She twined her hands around his neck and kneaded his flesh. She never wanted to let him go.

  His lips opened over hers and their tongues met in a clash of fire and need. He slanted his head and lifted her flush against him. She pressed her chest to his, reveling in the feel of his heated flesh. She shouldn’t want him. She should push him away. She couldn’t breathe.

  She ripped her mouth from his and would’ve stepped back, but he held her fast.

  “Don’t leave me,” he croaked.

  Audrey fought to inhale and exhale. She stared up into his desperate eyes and felt his despair in her bones. “I don’t know if I can—”

  He cupped her face and stroked his thumbs along her cheeks. “Audrey, I’m not the man I was six months ago. Hell,” he closed his eyes briefly, “pardon. I’m not even the man I was six days ago. Because of you.”

  Her legs felt weak. Hope expanded in her chest.

  “I don’t want to be bad anymore. I’ve had enough of corruption and death. When I think of what I did to Philippa—” He inhaled sharply, then let go of her face. He stepped back. “It’s too late,” he whispered.

  Her face must have reflected something to cause his reaction. “No. I want to believe you. I think you do want to change. Philippa told me you saved Lady Carlyle and her husband.”

  His eyes widened for the barest second, but she caught it. “Lady Carlyle told her that?”

  Audrey nodded. “Is it true?”

  “Carlyle and his wife, though she wasn’t his wife then, had been kidnapped by the man who was running Lord Aldridge’s theft gang. His name was Nicky Blue.” He recalled the vivid blue eyes of his onetime right hand. “He was a friend of mine once—as much of a friend as someone like me can have. But he was a bloodthirsty wretch, which is why I knew he’d kill Carlyle and his wife.”

  “You didn’t let him.”

  He shook his head, his mouth twisting in a cold, but wry smile. “For the first time in my life, I ignored the code of survival. I risked myself to save someone else. Do you want to know the worst of it? I almost regret doing it, because you see, if I hadn’t, Gin Jimmy might not have determined that I was double-crossing him. At least, that’s the only thing I can figure.” He wiped his hand over his face. “I spent all summer plotting how to escape being Ethan Jagger, and Gin Jimmy must have somehow suspected me, despite my careful planning.”

  Audrey thought she understood. “You think he sensed a change in you.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. He’d sent me into Society to ensure Lady Aldridge didn’t know anything about her husband’s theft ring. He didn’t expect me to like it. He had no idea it was what I wanted. But then, I didn’t know how badly I wanted it either.”

  She heard the longing in his voice. He wanted the life he’d been denied, a life as the son and brother of a viscount. Yet, he was willing to walk away from the chance of having it in order to start over with her. One might argue he was simply saving himself from the noose, but he’d been ready to return to London. Something had changed his mind. She had to know what that something was.

  She breached the gap between them and laid her palm against his chest. H
er fingers touched his bare skin, while the heel of her hand rested against his shirt. His heart beat strong and fast beneath her hand, like a wild animal locked within a cage.

  “Why would you forgo that life to be with me?”

  His gaze was fierce. He laid his hand over hers, trapping her fingers against him. “Because I love you.”

  FOURTEEN

  Ethan watched her eyes widen and her mouth open with surprise. Regardless of how she felt, joy coursed through him. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt so full, maybe never. Giving her his love gave him hope that perhaps his life wouldn’t be a waste. He’d heard the opposite so many times over the past dozen or so years that he’d almost grown to believe it.

  He lifted her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm. His kiss was soft, but he licked her flesh and felt her shiver. He moved up to her wrist and kissed her again, his mouth open and wet so that he could suckle her softness. He wanted to taste every inch of her.

  Her eyes slitted as he pushed up the sleeve of her dressing gown. He ascended her forearm until he reached the gentle indentation of the inside of her elbow. She twitched when he tongued her there.

  He straightened. “Look at me, Audrey. I will stop whenever you ask me to.”

  She shook her head, her eyes still half-closed. “Don’t stop.” She unhooked the front of her dressing gown and let the front gap open to reveal her nightrail beneath.

  It was the most chaste offer he’d ever received, but by far the most provocative. A tremor ran though his body at the thought of what she was truly offering. Her life, and his, would be irrevocably changed. It was why he’d kept his hands to himself since they’d left London. Well, for the most part.

  “Does this mean . . . you’ll come with me?” He was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. This was an action that, once taken, could not be reversed.

  She gazed at him with hope. “If you truly mean to stop being a criminal, yes.”

  “I do.” Happiness, true bliss, was just within his grasp. “You’ll have to marry me, though.” He’d never imagined that would come to pass, and Christ, he’d bungled the proposal horribly. He took her hand and dropped to his knees. “Audrey, please be my wife and I will spend my life trying to deserve you. You make me yearn to be decent and,” he stopped before his voice could crack and took a sustaining breath, “good.”

  She smiled down at him. “Yes.” With her free hand she leaned down and cupped his cheek. “You have made me the happiest woman alive. I know you’ve struggled and I understand what you’ve done in order to survive. And I am so glad and relieved you want to be different. I know you can be, Ethan. I’ve seen the man no one else has.”

  Her confidence filled him with awe. He wasn’t sure he’d ever deserve her, but he was going to try his damnedest.

  She tugged on his hand. “Stand up. Please. You can’t make love to me from down there.”

  Just because he was giving up his criminal activities didn’t mean he had to abandon his wicked nature, at least not when it pertained to giving her pleasure. He clasped her ankle beneath her gown, eliciting a gasp from her. “On the contrary. I can make spectacular love to you from down here.”

  Her cheeks pinked and he hoped she never, ever stopped blushing.

  “I can see you’re trying to puzzle that out.” He slid his hand up her calf, his fingers sliding along her flesh until he wrapped his hand around her knee. His thumb found the curve at the back and she twitched as she’d done with her elbow. “You’re ticklish.”

  “A bit,” she said breathlessly.

  “Back up to the bed.” He inclined his head.

  With one small step back, her buttocks hit the mattress.

  He let go of her hand and slid his hand up her other leg until he was lightly clasping both of her knees. “Now, be a love and lift your nightrail.”

  She pulled the cotton up to his hands, exposing her ankles and calves.

  “Very pretty,” he said, appreciating the view. “Higher, please.”

  The garment climbed slowly, revealing inch after tantalizing inch of her thighs. His hands followed the movement, all the while caressing her softness. She paused just before revealing what he wanted to see most. He looked up at her, saw that her eyes were a mix of desire and trepidation. She wanted this, but didn’t precisely know what “this” was.

  He grasped her thighs firmly but gently. “I shall stop whenever you ask.” She nodded in response. He pushed the nightrail up to expose her mound and the delicate chocolate curls. “Beautiful.”

  She still held on to the nightrail and didn’t try to lower it. He traced his hands down over her hips and slid them between her thighs. “Open wider, my love.”

  Her legs trembled as she followed his command. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, a chaste brushing of his lips against her smooth, pale skin. But then he caught the scent of her arousal and he couldn’t help himself. He opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, licking at her and drawing on her flesh, while his hands kneaded her. She slumped against the bed, which was why he’d positioned her there. He’d meant to put her on the edge of it, at least, but he hadn’t gotten there yet, and damn, he might not.

  His cock raged but he ignored his own wants, beyond wanting to give her pleasure. For that was what he most desired—to show her the wonders of her body. He glided his hand up to her entrance and grazed his thumb along her pink flesh. She twitched again, but her thighs opened farther. Good girl.

  He wanted to bury his tongue in her wet heat, but he urged himself to go slow. They had all night—no, they had a lifetime—before them. He used his thumb to stroke her, gently at first so she could become accustomed to his touch. When she grew slick, he found her clitoris and flicked it softly. Her gasp made him smile against her thigh, where he continued to lave kisses upon her flesh.

  When his mouth was just below her sheath, he slid his finger inside of her. She was tight, but there didn’t seem to be a barrier as there had been with his first experience—his only virginal partner. Was Audrey not a virgin then? He’d assumed she was, but there had been the blacksmith’s son. Jealousy knifed through him.

  “Audrey,” his voice sounded dark and pained, “have you done this before?” He looked up at her, his breath halting.

  Her gaze locked with his and there was panic reflected in their blue-green depths. “I—” She nodded. “Not like this. Geoffrey, the blacksmith’s son, he . . .” She looked away. “You know.”

  Ethan stood and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Did he rape you?” Rage coursed through him.

  “No, though I did think we were going to wait until we were properly wed.” She rushed to add, “I didn’t want him like I want you. He was a means to an end and I liked him well enough. I didn’t realize there would be more to it until I met you, that I would feel so . . . hungry.”

  Laughter threatened Ethan’s fury. “I’m going to hunt down that prick and tear him apart.”

  She frowned at him. “No, you’re not. You don’t do that anymore. Besides, he didn’t hurt me.” Her eyes softened. “Are you disappointed I’m not untouched?”

  Ethan slid his hands into her hair. “Never. I want you any way you’ll allow me. Don’t for a minute think you’re somehow a lesser woman—not to me, not to anyone. People have disregarded you for far too long. You are beautiful and strong, and the most desirable female I have ever encountered.”

  Her lips spread into a smile. “Would you mind going back to . . . ?”

  He loved that she asked him, even if she couldn’t say the words. And he hadn’t even started what he really meant to do. He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing the hot recesses of her mouth as he tipped her head back. She kissed him in return, her hands coming around him and digging into his spine.

  He drew his mouth from hers, but didn’t retreat. “Lie back.” He lifted her onto the bed and she reclined. He hastily removed his boots and stockings before climbing onto the bed beside her. He drew the bed curtains closed on
either side, leaving the base of the bed open to the glow of the fire. He wanted to see her sprawled before him. Her dark hair fanned against the white pillow, her legs were slightly parted, bare up to her mid-thighs, where the nightrail had shifted when she’d moved.

  He caught her gaze with his and held it while he pushed her nightrail back up. And when his fingers teased her opening, her nostrils flared. Then as his middle finger slid up into her, slowly but effortlessly amidst her wetness, her legs parted, inviting him further. He buried himself as far as he could go, then withdrew gradually. Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened. He repeated the action several times, never increasing his speed. With each stroke, she reacted in some way. When her hips began to move, he took that as indication to go a bit faster. He thumbed her clitoris and she thrust to meet his finger.

  He kneeled between her legs and put his mouth on her. She gasped loudly, her body tensing. She was so hot and wet. He settled her thighs over his shoulders, opening her to his attentions. He licked her, savoring her soft, slick flesh. She cried out. Her muscles clenched. She was very close, and he’d only just begun his feast. He wanted to prolong this for her, but didn’t know if he could. With each lick and suck, her hips came further off the bed. Her cries became more erratic, more desperate. Her fingers tangled into his hair and she tugged when he closed over her clitoris and sucked hard. He pumped two fingers into her and felt her begin to spasm. Her thighs quivered and he heard his name spill from her lips over and over. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. At last he was Ethan, a man and a lover instead of Jagger, the criminal.

  Her orgasm rocked through her, and he kept up his lovemaking until he felt her go still. His own lust raged hard, but he rested his head against the softness of her lower belly and inhaled the lavender scent from her bath.