She didn’t want to see him suffer. Hell, she looked as if the stitching hurt her more than it hurt him. An ever so fine sheen of sweat gathered on her upper lip. He wanted to lick it clean. To taste her. Just once. Just once. As if she sensed his desire and wished to torment him, her tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip. There was the slightest space between her two front teeth that he found endearing. The lightest sprinkle of freckles across her nose that he found mesmerizing.
She released air between pursed lips. “Done.” She snipped at the string with scissors, then with deft fingers, tied a knot. “You’ll have a scar.”
“I have others. It doesn’t matter.”
She looked up, interest shimmering in her gaze. “From the war?”
He looked away. “Yes.”
He’d received many injuries from the war…physical and mental. Although he didn’t dare tell her the truth. She wrapped the clean strip of material around his wound and tucked in the ends.
“You may want a drink before bed to help you sleep.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She nodded but hesitated when he’d thought she would scurry from the room the moment she had the chance. But no, she hovered there like a tempting morsel. He should dismiss her for the night, but he couldn’t seem to. Besides, he was most eager to hear what she would say next.
She frowned, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “My lord?”
“Nate.”
She seemed confused, as if she didn’t understand the language. Hell, she was close, so close he could reach out and pull her into his arms if he wanted. And he wanted. Yes, he wanted to so badly. He wanted to lose himself in her scent, to taste her sweetness, experience her warmth.
His mouth lifted. “My name is Nate.”
Her lower lip trembled. Obviously exasperated, she looked away. “I can’t… that is to say, I shouldn’t… it wouldn’t be proper.”
“We are in my home, aren’t we?”
She nodded but still stared at the floor.
Hell, she was right, it was insanely inappropriate but he didn’t give a shite. He wanted to hear his name on her lips. Boldly he reached out, sliding his fingers under her chin and tilting her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You will call me what I ask you to call me.” The horror that crossed her face was most amusing. “At least in private.”
That didn’t make things better. She looked positively ill. He had no doubt if he would have allowed it, she would have bolted from the room that very moment. Hell, even left the estate.
“In private?” She jerked away from him and gathered the supplies to her chest, scissors, bandages, some sort of salve. “My lord, I hardly think we shall be alone after this.”
“Really?”
She looked up at him, confused. “Why would we?”
“Because, Beth.” Her reluctance to be alone with him grew frustrating to the point of almost annoying. Blast it, he was tired, sore and he wanted to enjoy her for a mere few minutes…was that so much to ask for? “I think we shall be. Mayhap often, if I deem it.”
He might not be able to control who he was. He might not have been able to control his witch of a wife. But he sure as hell could control a ruffian who worked for him. Her nervousness fled, replaced with an anger he couldn’t possibly miss. Perhaps she didn’t trust him. Maybe she didn’t like his demanding nature, or maybe, just maybe she despised her own deeply rooted attraction.
“I should check on the boys.” She spun around and started toward the door. What exactly, he wondered, had he said to anger her so? He wasn’t quite sure, but he realized with a start that he didn’t want her to leave.
“I think you should stay.”
She froze. “My lord.” She was trembling when she turned to face him, from anger, or perhaps fear, she was too far away for him to be sure. “I am here to take care of your children and that is all.”
“And what of me?” He was half-jesting, but apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Her anger only flared, those brilliant amber eyes burning with indignation.
“You can take care of yourself.”
He laughed, a harsh sound that came out rather desperate. “Sometimes I’m not so sure. Come here, Beth.”
Her gaze narrowed. “No.”
“Why?”
“I will not allow you to force yourself upon me.”
Suddenly everything made sense. He wasn’t sure whether to be exasperated or irate. Had someone tried to hurt her? A stranger, a relative? His churning disgust gave way to anger. The human within him might want to ignore this attraction, but the beast had already claimed her as his own.
“And if you want me?”
She didn’t respond. She was scared, nervous. Looking into her innocent eyes made him even angrier. Damn it all, she was his, the beast said. His. It was his duty to protect.
Slowly, he stood and strolled toward her. This time she held her ground, brave woman. “You do want me, don’t you?”
She licked her lips, a nervous gesture, and avoided eye contact, staring at his throat. “Please don’t ask me that.”
“Tell me you don’t want me, and you can leave.”
She tilted her chin high, and looked directly at him. “I don’t.”
“Liar.”
She flushed. Gently he took the supplies from her hands and set them on the side-table. There was nothing between them, only her stubbornness. “Tell me the truth. Just this one time.” He brushed his knuckles up the delicate column of her throat and took her chin between his finger and thumb. “Tell me, Beth.”
Her gaze flashed angrily. “What do you want to hear? That I’m attracted to you? Will it feed your ego, my lord? Do you not have enough fawning women? You want me to beg, so you might hold it over me? The great, powerful master?”
She wanted him. She’d all but admitted it. The beast within him roared with satisfaction. Hell, he wanted to lift her onto his desk and pull up her skirts, show her what pleasure would truly be like between the two of them. Her chest rose and fell with each angry intake of breath. The truth lay between them. So unnerving, so inviting.
“No,” he finally said. “I want you to tell me the truth because I want to kiss you so badly it keeps me up at night.”
Her eyes widened. “You…you want me?”
He released a harsh laugh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”
“I’m plain. I have no family.” She shook her head. “I have no money. I’m…”
He jerked her forward. Before she could protest, his lips crushed to hers. It was a bold kiss, a branding kiss. She sank into him with a sigh, eager, welcoming. There was no resistance between them. She tasted like tea and sugar and utter femininity. The hunger within him burst anew. The beast clawed its way to the surface, demanding he take more, make her his completely. His hands slid down her warm body, cupping her bottom and pulling her up against his steel erection.
She gasped as his tongue slipped between her lips, delving into her warmth. There was no holding back. In that kiss was weeks of need, weeks of wanting. It was heaven, it was everything he had dreamt and so much more. She was delightfully lithe, like a willow tree, and she molded perfectly into his body. The hunger inside her matched his own. Hell and damnation. She groaned into his mouth, begging for more.
Desperate, he pulled away, cupping the sides of her face. “Tell me you want me.”
His erection pulsed painfully against his trousers. She stared stubbornly at his chest, but he didn’t miss the rapid beat of the pulse in the side of her neck. Didn’t miss the flare of her pupils. The harshness of her breath. With a growl, he lifted the governess and settled her on the desk.
“Tell me you want me, Beth.”
Shoving her thighs apart, he stepped between her legs. Never had he desired a woman as much as he desired Beth. Needed to sink into her completely and lose himself. He slid his hand into her hair and cupping the back of her head, he forced her to meet his gaze.
�
��I want you,” she whispered so softly that a normal human wouldn’t have heard. “Are you happy?”
“Immensely.” The man inside him sighed in relief. The beast growled with desire. “So lovely. Hell, you smell good.” He pressed his lips to her neck, lower to the sensitive skin of her collarbone. He forced himself to go slowly, needed to take his time and savor every moment for he knew it wouldn’t last. “You taste even better.”
Her groan stirred his lust. When she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, it was all the urging he needed. The desire to have her over took any common sense. His hand found the hem of her skirt and he slid his fingers up her smooth calf, over her knee. Beth trembled. It would be good. So damn good. His fingers found her silky thigh and he almost came on the spot.
“If we don’t stop, I will take you here on this desk,” he warned.
When she moaned he almost lost control. But that human inside him… still there… revolted at the idea of ruining this woman. Nate gritted his teeth and rested his forehead to hers. She might be as eager as he, but if he took her, Beth’s reputation would be destroyed.
Dredging up what tiny bit of humanity that remained, Nate somehow managed to pull back. She looked confused, her harsh breathing mirroring every mad thump of her pulse.
“We can’t,” he said softly.
The hazy look in her eyes gave way to shock as she stumbled from the desk, her skirts falling down around her ankles. For one long moment they merely stared at each other, the realization of the situation pulsing between them. He’d almost had her there on the desk and he knew in that moment, if he had, she would have never forgiven not only him, but herself.
She pressed her fingers to her lips. “My lord, I must insist that if I stay you will keep your distance from me.”
He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her statement. He would have laughed, if he hadn’t noticed the fear in her eyes. Hell, the passion frightened her. He’d moved too soon, too fast. “Of course. I apologize for any animalistic behavior. I was not… myself.”
She didn’t reply, merely darted around him and raced to the door.
Before she could escape, he had one more thing to say. “Mrs. Church.”
She paused, her hand resting on the door knob, her back to him. Those narrow shoulders rose and fell with each nervous breath she took. She still wanted him…he could sense it. The attraction shivered between them as strongly as it had in the beginning, perhaps even more.
He started toward her. “I said I would not kiss you again, but you’re welcome to kiss me.”
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed. “Very amusing, my lord. If you’ll excuse me, your children are waiting.”
He reached out, pressing his hand to the door, his arm brushing against her shoulder. “I never jest about kissing.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled open the door. Smart woman, she didn’t hesitate. She slipped underneath his arm and darted into the hall, disappearing into the darkness. And even though the beast inside of him wanted to chase after her, to make her his, he refused to give in. Nate sank back against the wall and groaned. He’d retained control, and let her go, as much as it had killed him.
At least this time he could pretend he still had a soul.
Chapter 9
Grayson was having a ball. Nate picked up the invitation, staring at the flowery writing that was obviously Meg’s, and wondered briefly if the man had lost his bleedin’ mind.
Grayson had gotten married a while ago, although he’d sworn he’d never would, and they were having a ball…again. Hell. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Grayson was more of a recluse than Nate, and some considered him even more of a monster. He hated to socialize and he was having a blasted ball? After what had happened at his first gathering, Nate would have thought the man would have boarded up the doors and hidden his wife in the attic, surrounded by guards. But he supposed one could only hide away for so long. Eventually the world invaded.
He tossed the invitation aside and rubbed his hands over his weary face. “Shite.”
He’d met Meg. Grayson’s wife was lovely and he wished them well, but did they truly think they could have a normal, happy life? Last time he’d seen them they hadn’t had much time to talk, what with his wife imprisoned by Grayson’s very own brother-in-law. Men like them didn’t have families. It was impossible. Wasn’t it? Christ, he wasn’t sure anymore. Wasn’t sure of anything.
Seven weeks.
Mrs. Church had lived there for seven weeks, but it felt like she had always been in their lives. Weeks ago he’d almost had her in his study. Since then he’d done his best to stay away from her. But staying away from Mrs. Church wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. He was tired, annoyed…a veritable bear, according to Mrs. Turner. Hell, he missed seeing her delicate features, he missed her snappy and blunt conversation. She did not hold back because he was a lord. She didn’t bloody care. He closed his eyes. He missed her flowery scent, the way she moaned in his mouth…
The sudden tap of footsteps interrupted his musings. Two people…Mrs. Turner and…
Nate closed his eyes, concentrating. Heavy footsteps. A male. A steady pace saying they were in no hurry, there was no rush. Not a dire situation then. That was good. Very good. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his injured arm. It had healed within a couple days, but he’d kept the bandages in place, not wanting to garner questions about his speedy recovery. One day wasn’t enough time for an injury to heal and scar…at least not for a normal human.
There was a soft knock on the door. He glanced critically around the room. The bottles had been disposed of; no opium this time, no discarded clothing. Dusted, swept, cleaned. He’d known the constable would arrive, and had wanted to look presentable. Yet another façade. He would pretend to be normal. Always pretending. He’d gotten rather good at being someone he wasn’t.
“Yes? Come in.”
Mrs. Turner opened the door and peeked inside. He didn’t miss her pointed glance, a warning. “Constable Morrow here to see you, my lord.”
Nate stood and smoothed down his gray waistcoat. He’d been up earlier than he had in years, having had word that the man was back from London and would be arriving. And Nate would be ready. After what had happened in the war, he was determined to always be prepared. But hell, he hadn’t been prepared for Beth. How could he? He hadn’t been prepared for her sweet, warm scent. Hadn’t been prepared for the eagerness in her kiss.
“My lord?” Mrs. Turner jerked him from his heated thoughts.
He gave her a quick nod of reassurance. She was one of few he could trust, one of few who knew the truth about him. “Of course, send him in.”
She stepped aside and the older man swept into the room, a cheery round man. Even when he wasn’t smiling he gave off the air of one at ease and pleased with life. His mouth twitched, that bushy mustache wiggling, making him look more a walrus than a human at the moment.
“Lord Brimley, nasty business that brings me here today. Nasty.”
“Indeed,” Nate said, nodding toward one of the two chairs flanking the burning hearth. It gave the room a cozy atmosphere, an air of normalcy. “Have a seat.”
“My lord, shall I bring tea?” Mrs. Turner asked, hesitating at the door. She was a professional by now, easily dissuading suspicion. She was almost as good of an actor as he. She knew her job, and his life, depended upon it. Of course the benefits she received helped immensely.
“Yes, do.”
She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her. She and the butler were all he had, really. The only two he could rely upon. But they were getting up in years. Who would keep the world safe from him once they were gone? Unwillingly Beth’s face came to mind. He shoved the thought aside as quickly as it had arrived. No. He could never do that to her, trap her in this home…with him.
Mr. Morrow grinned, that mustache twitching. “Ah, tea, yes. But now that your housekeeper has left, how about something stronger?”
He stood and strolled unconcerned toward the sideboard. He swore if it wasn’t for his fine stock and generosity with the drink, the constable wouldn’t have bothered to visit. The man did enjoy the finer things in life, including the occasional whore in town. There were many things Nate could threaten to expose about the man should Constable Morrow deem it important to investigate. Fortunately, the man was too lazy to care.
Nate picked up the decanter and poured first the constable a drink, and then himself. He sighed long and loud as he started back to Mr. Morrow, tumblers in hand. “Just what I need to numb the pain from the attack.”
“Injuries still bothering you then?” The constable shook his head in feigned empathy, but his gaze was pinned to the glass. “I do apologize for interrupting your day. I know you should be recuperating.” He took the glass and glanced at Nate’s wounded forehead. “What is the assessment?”
“No…no. Think nothing of it.” Nate settled in his chair, even grimacing for good measure. “I’ll heal, although it might take some time. I assume you’re here about Allen?”
The constable swirled the brandy around and around in the glass. “Yes. Tis wretched business but something that must be done. Didn’t get a chance to look at the body before he was buried, but I agree with my assistants assessment…there was nothing you could have done otherwise.”
“Of course.” Nate drank deeply. He’d let the man speak first. Rushing into the situation would only make it seem as if he was guilty. He knew how to play the games, how to win sympathy and act the part of a human. He’d been doing it for years.
“If you could just explain what happened once more…”
Blast it. Nate set his glass upon the side table and stared deeply into the roaring fire. “I, along with most of the countryside, was hunting the wolf when I heard a scream. I went to investigate. When I saw Mrs. Church, the governess, along with my son Oliver being attacked, I, of course, tried to defend them.”
A Night of Redemption (The Night Series Book 2) Page 12
