by Shana Galen
“Quint. Quint,” she gasped. “Yes, yes.”
And then he was flying with her. He was part of her, and they fell down the waterfall together, tumbling over and over and over until he could barely catch his breath.
When he finally landed, her moans were a ragged echo in his ears. He held her as long as he could, his arms cupping her bottom, holding her close to him. She held him as well. Her hands clutched his back, her fingers digging into his shirt. Finally, he pulled back and began to set her down. But even when he released her, his arms did not stop shaking. He was trembling from the experience of being with her. He’d never given so much to a woman, never been with a woman who seemed to want him as much as he wanted her.
He glanced at her, and even in the dark he knew she looked debauched and disordered. And how was he to walk out of this door with her? They’d emerge in full view of all their guests, and what they’d been doing would be patently obvious.
“I suppose we must return to the ball,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
She nodded. “I suppose we must, but I’d rather stay here with you. That was”—she paused, obviously looking for the right word—“amazing. I did not know that could happen when you were inside me.”
Quint frowned in puzzlement. “What could happen?” Then he remembered her contractions. “Oh, that. Yes. You might have known before if I was not always so eager with you.”
“But you were eager tonight.”
He pulled her close and hugged her. “I’m always eager with you. But I promise that from now on I will take more time. I want you to feel pleasure every time I’m inside you.” He whispered the last and felt her shudder.
He bent and kissed her nose. “I’d like nothing more than to stay here with you all night, but even if we’ve made a muddle of the event, we can’t desert our own ball. I’ll leave first. Then you follow in a few moments.”
He bent to retrieve his tailcoat, and she straightened her skirts. Then she helped him arrange his clothes and hair, and he righted hers as best he could.
“There.” She patted his chest. “You look quite presentable. How do I look?”
Her skirts were wrinkled, one shoulder of her gown kept falling off, and her hair had come loose and was trailing down her back in large sections. But Quint only saw her rosy cheeks and her bright eyes. “You look beautiful,” and he bent and kissed her swollen lips, taking the time to taste them. She was so sweet. Every time he kissed her, it was a different experience.
And every time he kissed her, she kissed him back, matching his mood—fervent, tender, exploratory. With more willpower than he thought he possessed, he drew away from her. “We take a risk if we continue that much longer. I cannot wait to get you home. Soon.” He kissed her again, then quickly opened the door and reemerged in the ballroom.
The orchestra was playing a slow, stately piece, and the dancing went on as before. Catherine’s cousin Ashley was holding court with a bevy of admirers under one of the Corinthian columns and Catherine’s other cousin, Josephine, was dancing with Lord Westman. He didn’t see her cousin Lady Madeleine or her aunts and uncles, and he didn’t see Hudson.
Good. Quint hoped the man was in his dingy office writing his wretched story. And then Quint saw Catie emerge from their rendezvous place. She looked sweet and pretty, though still a bit disheveled, and he forgot about the reporter and the story and just enjoyed watching her.
Catherine felt as though everyone in the room had ceased what they were doing and were watching her walk through the servants’ door. It seemed the whole room was silent, and there was only the sound of her heartbeat, pounding incessantly in her ears. The beat echoed her thoughts: they know, they know, they know.
With a deep breath, she settled against the wall. There was nothing and no one to fear here. Elizabeth was gone. Quint had stood by her side. He had all but told her he loved her just now in the servant’s corridor. What was she afraid of?
She spotted Maddie coming toward her and plastered a smile on her face. “Are you well? I heard what happened with Lizzy. I wish I’d been there.”
Catherine smiled at her cousin’s clenched fists and determined expression. “Lord Valentine was there. He stood by me.”
Maddie raised a brow. “Of course, he did.”
Catherine glanced across the room and met Quint’s gaze. He was always looking at her now, always watching her, his eyes full of promise. As she watched, he winked at her.
“Oh, Lord,” Maddie said, and Catherine drew her gaze away from her husband.
“What’s wrong?”
“Josie and Ashley were right. You do love him.”
Catherine took her cousin’s hand. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be a member of the Spinsters’ Club any longer.”
Maddie laughed. “Oh, that old promise. I’m happy for you. And now I suppose you’d better be off. Here he comes.”
Catherine looked toward Quint and saw that indeed he was coming for her. She went willingly into his arms.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured into her ear.
“Are you certain?” she asked. “We should not leave the ball so early.”
“I don’t care. I want to be alone with you. You’re all that matters.”
And then he swept her into his arms. She laughed at the surprise—her own as well as that of the people standing near them. There was a round of applause, and then she was being carried through the ballroom, down the steps, and into the night. He ordered their carriage and set her down, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. She closed her eyes, hearing his heart beat against cheek. She felt safe and wanted.
“You’re a wonderful man, Quint,” she whispered. “I’ve never thought anything less of you. I want you to know how happy I am that you married me.”
He tilted her head up so that she looked into his clear brown eyes. “And I want you to know—”
“Isn’t this sweet?” The low, malice-filled voice filled the quiet night.
Catherine pulled back and let out a yelp when she saw her father standing in the shadows. Of course he was there. Catherine shook her head. Had she really thought she would escape without seeing him tonight? It just seemed so unfair. She’d survived the ball and her sister, only to be faced with her father. And Edmund Fullbright was drunk. She knew that right away. Drunk and mean.
“Mr. Fullbright,” Quint said, pushing Catherine behind him. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“You didn’t,” her father said, swaying into the light. “And you made sure I couldn’t get in.” He lurched to the side, and Catherine noted that while he was dressed in evening clothes, his appearance was slovenly. His cravat was loose, and his breeches were stained. “Now, is that any way to treat your family?” Her father slurred the words at her.
Quint clutched her hand, holding it tightly to reassure her. “I hardly think you are the man to speak on that subject.”
Catherine expected her father to boil over with rage, but he only gave Quint a thin, malevolent smile. “Perhaps not, but I am able to speak on any great number of other topics, including this dupe of a marriage.” He tapped a thoughtful finger on his chin. “I wonder what the prime minister would think if he read the true story of how you two lovebirds were married? I wonder if the citizens of our fine city”—he gestured clumsily at the buildings surrounding them—“would want a Cabinet officer who couldn’t even marry the right woman at his own wedding? What kind of official would that man be?”
Catherine felt Quint tense. “Your concern for the welfare of our fine government is touching, Mr. Fullbright,” Quint gritted out. “But I have already dealt with your friend, Mr. Hudson. Blackmail won’t work.”
“Blackmail always works, my dear son. May I call you ‘son’ now? I hope so, as I believe you and I will have a long and profitable relationship.”
Catherine lowered her head in defeat. It seemed that she would never emerge from the shadow of her father. But, to her sur
prise, Quint laughed. Her head shot up, and she blinked at her foolhardy husband.
“Go home, Mr. Fullbright. You won’t get a shilling from me. Do you think that I would ever give a worthless bastard like you even a momentary glance? You’re no better than the horse manure I wipe off my boot.”
Her father’s eyes widened in shock and anger, and Catherine shrank back. She knew that look and what it meant. “Quint, be care—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Catherine’s husband, and I’ll be damned if you hurt so much as her feelings ever again. Say good night, Catie.” He put an arm on her waist and made to usher her away, but her father stepped in their path.
“You worthless—” His fist came up fast and hard, and Catherine bit back a yelp of fear for Quint. But her husband easily sidestepped.
And then, before she could react, Quint’s own fist came up, and she heard the crack when it connected with her father’s face. Edmund Fullbright went down in a heap.
Quint stared at him, nudged him with a foot, and then, turning, held a hand out to Catherine. She took it, stepping over her father’s unconscious body. “Good-bye, Father,” she said.
“Your carriage, madam.” Quint gestured to the first carriage in line.
“But, sir,” the coachman, who had been staying out of the way, stepped forward. “This is the prime minister’s carriage.”
“I’ll apologize tomorrow.” Quint placed her inside and climbed in after her. “Well, that was fun,” he said, when the carriage was under way.
Catherine stared at him. “I dumped punch over my sister’s head, you gave up the Cabinet position, had a public brawl with my father, and now we’ve stolen the prime minister’s carriage. We’re doomed.”
“We’re having fun,” he corrected her.
“Fun? But your career—”
Quint pulled her onto his lap. “I don’t care. I wasn’t only wrong about your sister. I was wrong about my work. It’s important to me, but not as important as you.”
She stared at him. “It’s not?”
He pulled her against him, and she burrowed her head in his neck, loving the way he smelled.
“I almost lost you to my obsession with work. I won’t ever do that again. I forgot what was truly important. I forgot the reason I got into politics. I wanted to help people. I wanted to do good, and I let my ambition get the better of me.” He stroked her hair, his breath warm on her cheek. “I don’t want the Cabinet position, not if it means losing you. I’ve missed precious minutes and seconds with you, Catie. I spent hours at a desk when I could have been with you. I don’t want to lose any more time together. I don’t want to lose you.”
Her heart swelled, and she murmured, “You won’t. And you never will. I love you, Quint.”
He answered her with a kiss that didn’t end until morning.
Chapter 24
Catie thought she dreamed the sound. She tried to turn over, to ignore the ping, ping, ping, but finally she opened her eyes and listened.
Beside her, Quint breathed in and out deeply. He was asleep and his body was warm and heavy. She wanted to turn into his heat, feel his arms come around her, but she heard the ping again and forced herself to slip out of bed.
A quick survey of the room revealed clothes scattered over the floor, a tub with water that had long ago cooled, and a half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses. No shoes or a robe.
She heard the ping again, this one coming from her room, next door, and she pulled on Quint’s tailcoat in an effort to cover herself. She hurried through the dressing room and looked out the window. Below, three women had their heads together. One was blond, one brunette, and the other auburn-haired.
Catherine pushed the window up and peered out. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
The girls jumped and looked up at her. “We’ve come to help you,” Maddie said. “Come down.”
“I don’t need help,” Catherine whisper-shouted back. “Go home and go to bed.”
Maddie nodded and began to pull her cousins away, but Ashley looked up and hissed, “What about Valentine? Did he really give up the Cabinet position? That’s what people were saying when you left.”
Catherine shrugged and shook her head sadly. “He did.”
“Then come down. We want to help,” Josie called.
Catherine did not see how her cousins could help. They had not made a scene at the ball; they were not going to be the subject of a resignation article in the Times. They had not absconded with the prime minister’s coach.
She should close the window and go back to bed. Quint needed her now. He didn’t need her three cousins’ misguided attempts at patching up a hopeless situation. She dressed quickly, choosing the men’s clothing Maddie had sent weeks ago because she did not need assistance to put it on. Then she tiptoed down the steps, past the sleeping footman in the foyer, and opened the door.
Her cousins were waiting for her on the front stoop.
Ashley took her hand. “Quick, let’s go.”
“Go where? I’m not going anywhere dressed like this.”
“We have a plan to help your husband,” Josie said. “We’re going to see that he gets the nod for the Cabinet post.”
Catherine looked at Josie and then Ashley and finally Maddie. All three girls were wearing trousers and men’s shirts. Their hair was tucked under their collars or, in Ashley’s case, she’d stuffed it under a farmer’s cap.
“But I don’t even know if he wants the position.”
“Of course he wants the position,” Ashley said. “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
Catie bit her lip. “You’re right. I can’t let him give this up.”
“That’s the spirit,” Josie said.
“What did you have in mind?” Catie asked. “Are we going to scale the walls of Parliament? Break into Mr. Perceval’s office?”
“Don’t be silly,” Josie said. “We won’t have to break in. I have the key.” And she held up a shiny gold key.
“I don’t even want to know how you came into possession of that,” Catherine said, “but I fail to see how breaking—”
“I told you that I have the key.”
“Very well, I fail to see how entering the prime minister’s office without permission in the middle of the night will secure Valentine the Cabinet post.”
“That’s because you have no imagination,” Ashley said. “And it’s not the middle of the night. It’s almost dawn. By the time we reach Perceval’s office and let ourselves in, he will be on his way. When he arrives, he’ll have no choice but to see us. Then we can convince him that he’ll do the country a grievous wrong if he does not appoint Lord Valentine.”
Catherine looked at Maddie, usually her most sensible cousin. “And you agree with this plan?”
Maddie shrugged. “What other choice is there? If Valentine does not receive the post, then it’s as though Elizabeth and your father and everyone who wishes you ill has won.”
“It’s time we reversed fortunes,” Ashley said.
Catherine had no illusions that this plan would work. Why, they looked like a bunch of vagabonds. The night watchmen would probably arrest them before they made it two blocks. But she looked back at Valentine’s dark town house, thought of him sleeping inside, and knew she had to try. Besides, her cousins were right. It was time for a reversal of fortune.
“After we see the prime minister, we have to find the reporter from the Times who was at the ball,” she said, moving forward to take the lead. Her cousins followed as she started down the walk. “We may have to persuade him to change his story.”
“He’ll change it,” Josie said, patting her hip. “You leave that to me.”
Lord, Catherine hoped that was not a cutlass at Josie’s hip, though for once, she could use the help of a pirate.
Quint was dreaming about his wife. He was dreaming about pulling her warm body to his and sinking into her. Groggily, he reached for her. And felt empty space.
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He opened his eyes. “Catie?”
No answer.
He rose and padded across the room, through the dressing room, and into her room. No sign of her, except—
He lifted his tailcoat from the top of her bed, then looked at the window. It was open. The sun was just rising above London, and somehow Quint knew his wife was out there. He swore. He didn’t have time to search for her this morning. She was probably at the assembly rooms, supervising the cleanup, but he could not stop by to check. He had an appointment with Perceval at eight, and he did not want to be late. After last night, he intended formally to withdraw his application for the position and concede to Fairfax.
Quint fully expected a dressing-down from the prime minister for the events of the ball. He’d made the government look foolish, particularly the article that would surely make the day’s papers. Hell, he’d stolen Perceval’s coach. Quint deserved a stern lecture, and he was prepared to take his lumps.
He’d take them and ask for more. He didn’t care. He had Catherine, and that was all that mattered. One look from her, and everything became clear. He’d been such a fool. How had he not seen immediately that Catherine was the only thing that mattered? He dressed quickly, thoughts of Catherine never far from his mind. Why would she go to the assembly rooms so early? Would the servants have even arrived yet?
As he waited for his carriage to be brought around, he paced his foyer. What if she had not gone to the assembly rooms? He remembered the open window in her bedroom and swore again. Suddenly, he needed that carriage urgently. He had a very bad feeling that his Catie was trying to help.
“I really think this is a bad idea,” Catie whispered from the prime minister’s darkened office.
“Why?” Ashley said. She was sitting in the chair behind his desk, feet propped up before her. “Isn’t it Mr. Perceval’s job to make decisions for our country? We’re helping him do that.”
“Maybe we should split up,” Catie said. “All four of us here might be too much. Perhaps Maddie and I could stay and you and Josie could go to the office of the Times.”
