Dressing by the light of a single candle proved challenging but she dared not disturb the morning silence within her home any more than necessary. Enid would be awake and asking questions if Amanda wasn’t careful. The last thing she needed was for someone to discover her foolhardy plan to retrieve Ladybird from her stall and venture to Portman Square before dawn. First thing she would inform Crispin she couldn’t take foolish chances with her safety. Her father already suffered through her mistaken ship travel. With any hope she’d be returned home before breakfast, no one the wiser.
She eased into the hallway and came nose to nose with her sister.
‘What are you doing?’ Better she put Raelyn on the defensive.
‘I was thirsty and went to the kitchen not to disturb Enid.’ Her eyes took in Amanda, bonnet to boots. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m taking a walk.’ Amanda used a matter-of-fact tone because taking a walk before the sun rose was a commonplace activity, wasn’t it?
‘You don’t walk.’ Raelyn’s hushed whisper resounded in the hall.
‘That’s a peculiar thing to say.’ Better to keep her sister off kilter too.
‘What I mean is you don’t walk in the morning and it’s not even daylight yet.’
‘Actually, I wanted to check on Ladybird. I haven’t seen her since I returned.’
‘My guess is your horse is also asleep at this hour.’ Raelyn narrowed her eyes. ‘What is it? What are you involved in now?’
Raelyn was far too perceptive.
‘Nothing.’ She sidestepped around her sister in an effort to get away, but Raelyn blocked her progress. If her sister continued to interrogate her, she’d never get to Crispin in time and all would be for naught.
‘Shall I dress and go with you?’
‘I assure you, there’s no need.’ Amanda forced her most convincing smile.
‘You can’t go alone. What are you thinking?’
Amanda swallowed her first retort. ‘I’ll bring a footman.’
‘That may not suffice.’ Her sister placed a hand on her arm.
Donning a look of insult, Amanda reared back from her sister’s comment. ‘Raelyn.’
‘You have the habit of losing your way, that’s all I mean.’ Raelyn exhaled a long breath. ‘I only say so because I worry about you.’
‘I know.’ She tiptoed around her sister, unwilling to look back and feel worse for the deception. ‘But you must trust me in this.’
She managed to make it all the way to Ladybird’s stall without further confrontation and spent a few minutes flattering her mare to express how much she’d missed riding before the impossibility of saddling her horse arose. She hadn’t the strength nor ability to cinch the leather straps. Defeated, she plopped down on a nearby tack trunk. Why hadn’t she remembered the sidesaddle? Too many thoughts of Crispin’s strong thighs encased in tight breeches. In usual fashion, she’d not anticipated the obstacles, only the outcome.
‘At least tell me where it is you wish to go.’ Raelyn appeared in Ladybird’s stall, a thick wrap thrown over her night-rail.
‘Raelyn, you’re the dearest sister.’
‘I am, aren’t I?’
Together they hoisted the weighty saddle into position, fastened the buckles and led her mare to the mounting block. It was serendipity in twofold to have a patient horse and Raelyn’s equal cooperation.
‘Thank you.’ Amanda nudged her mare forward. ‘I’ll return before breakfast.’
‘You best or I’ll be forced to tell Father. I can’t lose you too.’
The sentiment was heartfelt and, with a nod of agreement, Amanda flicked the reins, took to the street and sent her horse into a canter. A glimmer of sunlight reminded she might already be too late.
She came. Crispin considered himself an accomplished gambler, having honed his skill to expert level with unrelenting practice aimed at achieving one goal. Yet this was a wager he would have lost.
That realization didn’t defuse the surge of gratification that coursed through his veins at the sight of Amanda cresting the hill on horseback. She appeared the delicate lady perched in her sidesaddle atop a chestnut mare, a vision newborn from the morning mist, at odds with the enchanting sea nymph all those weeks ago. The remembrance of her that night, with glistening droplets of water clinging to her lashes and dampened silky wisps of her hair, stirred him deeply.
He wanted her. Having invited her out this morning to watch the sunrise was proof enough; still, his chest tightened whenever he considered the future. Somehow, she’d become too important. He didn’t know what to make of that. Only that it couldn’t matter.
She closed the distance between them and, handling the reins with skill, pulled her horse to a stop.
‘Who knew coincidence took such intricate planning?’ She removed her bonnet and looped the ribbons on the pommel. ‘Shall we ride?’
He smiled and set a slow pace, though his mind continued to chastise his thoughtless regard. He’d invited her and she’d accepted. Still, there was no reason on his part to risk her safety other than selfishness and an intense desire to kiss her again.
Soon, if not tonight, he would enter the Underworld and test his skill. He intended to risk all and leave them with nothing. At least before that uncertain result, he’d have this pleasure. It seemed a small concession, never mind convoluted logic.
‘You ride well.’ And she did indeed, despite the cumbersome sidesaddle and layers of skirts. His mind skittered to her shapely legs in his clothing within ship’s quarters. ‘I prefer you in my trousers.’
She arched a brow, this time the double meaning deciphered by her clever mind with ease.
‘Why are we here?’ Her dulcet query amidst the morning silence soothed his body’s randy suggestions.
‘I don’t know.’ And he didn’t. Other than his yearning to share a sunrise with her. ‘I wanted to see you.’ That was honesty, plain and simple.
‘Is that all?’ She sounded bemused and her breath fogged in the crisp air.
He wouldn’t tell her of his tangled emotion. That he spent any spare moment recalling their conversations, the beauty of her smile, or kisses in the moonlight. He had no way to label the intense restlessness. Since the theatre, or mayhap before, she lived in him unlike any experience, including his vow of redemption. But he had a purpose for returning to London and he couldn’t become distracted by emotion. Otherwise his leaving and abandoning his family and way of life for over a year would be meaningless.
‘I wished to say goodbye.’ Finality seemed the best route.
‘You said your farewells on the ship.’ Her tone became peevish and he examined her face, her lovely green eyes mysterious in the first blush of morning. ‘You kissed me quite thoroughly and then walked away. Don’t you remember? Because I do.’
‘That was poorly done of me.’ He stopped at the crest of a subtle slope and dismounted to tie off his reins. He did the same for her mare. Then he offered his hand and guided her waist as she slid from the saddle. They stayed that way longer than necessary, the horse at her back and his body as shelter, so close the fabric of their clothing rubbed.
He clasped her hand and led her up and over the hilltop to a concealed knoll just in time for sunlight to gild the horizon, except he watched her instead of the dawn.
‘What is it you want?’ She brought her eyes to his with a quizzical expression.
He chuckled at her complicated enquiry. ‘Not the same as you, I assure you.’
Her brow arched with dubious scepticism. ‘I haven’t time to talk in riddles.’ She turned away, towards the sun. ‘I need to be home before breakfast or my sister will raise a fuss.’
‘She worries for you.’
‘Yes.’
There were too many things to say so they stood in admiration of the sky’s glorious light as it radiated in every direction and announced the new day. He stepped closer before she realized and she startled when he touched he
r chin. He angled her head with the press of his fingertip and her eyes fell closed. Then there was nothing but their kiss.
He didn’t rush things. Like the breathtaking reveal of dawn, he kissed her by degree. Nipping at her plump lower lip and running his tongue across the seam of her delectable mouth. He teased and tasted with determined flicks to catch each breathy gasp, treasured each sigh, warm against his cheek.
Desire soon ignited to flame. Every sensation reverberated in his groin, his cock hard and muscles tight. Her tongue against his stoked that flame into an inferno. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her into his chest, one palm across her bottom to secure her flush against him, while rioting images, some real, others imaginary, all sensual and erotic, pestered his brain with insistence.
What was it about her? How did one kiss scorch his soul? How would it be to lay her down in his bed and make love through the night until satiated and spent?
He needed more, and yet, he’d only just told her this was goodbye.
He broke away, his breathing harsh and grasped her bare hand within his. Wordlessly he led her to a narrow funnel of slate steps which led down the hill and behind a stone wall that penned in the property line at the rear of the gardens.
Amanda didn’t say a word as he tugged her along, her mind at war with her heart. Another few steps brought them to a modest greenhouse on a private plot of land, each pane of glass a-sparkle with newborn sunlight. Without explanation, he unlatched the door and brought her inside.
The scent of fresh soil, earthy and moist, struck her, followed by the delicate fragrance of gardenias and other exotic blooms, the scent so ephemeral it was as if she entered a dream. She raised her chin in a bid to gain a glimpse of the flowers and prove their existence, but he brought her forward, flush against his chest and deep into his embrace as his mouth found hers.
As before, the kiss turned urgent, driven by a combined force of longing. She wound her arms around his neck, and the action pressed her breasts into his hard chest. Remembrance of their pleasure at the theatre rushed back hard and fast. Without a care, she allowed him every advantage and he gathered her gown in his fingers, heedless of the fact they were beginning something that could only end in the worst possible way.
He caressed her hip, smoothed the fabric of her underskirts against her bottom and cupped her there to hold against him. Sensation, new and potent, radiated through her and she rocked into his embrace, closer, needing to connect them through layers of clothing, heat to heat.
She moved one hand to his shoulder, slid it over his arm and to his waist. She should put a stop to the madness. She should, she should, but her brain wouldn’t listen to reason. Her hands trembled and she gripped him harder.
What did he intend?
‘I want to undo you, Amanda.’ His fingers tangled in the ribbons at the back of her gown.
‘You’ve left me undone already.’ Words mixed with kisses, deep, hungry kisses. She refused to consider all the unanswered questions. He’d brought her such pleasure at the theatre. Could she offer him the same divine release? Did she have it in her power to make him feel what she’d experienced?
She brought her palm between them and pressed it against his thick erection, rigid beneath his trousers. The exhilarating shock from her bold caress caused him to groan and, at first, she wondered if she’d hurt him. He backed them up until his backside hit a low table, the implements atop shuddering with a clatter. He’d long before dropped her gown and surrendered to her exploration, the swish of fabric around her ankles a signal he would allow her to lead. With all the control, she wondered how to proceed.
‘Touch me, Amanda.’ His throaty whisper found her ear. His kisses skimmed the outer rim to nuzzle down her neck, a shiver of gooseflesh to follow.
She slid her palm across his erection again. This time, slower, more purposeful, and he stopped kissing her altogether. His temple rested against hers as if he merely wished to feel and nothing more.
She didn’t possess the confidence to open his falls. She wasn’t experienced beyond the otherworldly passion she’d found with his guidance, yet each stroke across his breeches, each pressured caress of her palm to his arousal, wound tension tighter. Torn between watching his handsome face or the deliberate path of her hand, she worked to offer him pleasure.
How would it feel to hold him in her palm, skin to skin? The heat of him, the silky weight of his arousal against her fingers. She was all of a sudden lost, caught on a wave of desire that dared she explore and yet threatened to destroy.
Temptation won out. She reached down and unfastened the first button. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, though he didn’t speak. She undid two more buttons and slid her fingertips below the hem of his shirt, beyond the waist of his trousers, and further, to his bare skin.
He was hot. His body burned, waited. Dare she continue? He moved the slightest on the table and she reacted. She placed her fingers around his shaft, unknowing what to expect. She’d never shared such intimacy, never touched the hard, smooth skin of a man. All she knew was the blissful feeling he’d evoked from her and she wished to offer the same. She held him, heavy and swollen, anxious and at the same time cautious until she wrapped her fingers tighter. He gasped, caught off guard by her bold caress.
With deliberate purpose, she moved her hand in even strokes, sliding up and down, fascinated with the conflicted expressions on his face against the foggy windows behind his back, steamed with the erotic evidence of what occurred inside.
It was wicked.
Forbidden.
Sinful.
She hardly knew herself.
But in this, she made no mistake.
Crispin swayed into Amanda’s grasp, his cock throbbing with want, his body afire. He wanted to drive into her. Discover how wet and tight she was. Bury himself deep and stay that way for ever. He wasn’t some upstart, green in the ways of passion, but in every way imaginable he experienced Amanda’s exploration on another level altogether. It was as if no woman had touched him before. Or as if this woman before him was created solely for him.
The jarring urge brought his hand atop hers, stalling her pleasure-filled strokes. If they didn’t stop, he’d take her completely while the sun rose and there were so many things wrong with that plan he couldn’t list them all.
He slid free of her grasp, his trousers in place and captured her in one last kiss. She moaned a sensual sound that dared him to continue what he’d only just ended. He couldn’t, though, and broke away.
Her eyes flew open, wild and glassy, the green of her irises a-glitter in the fractured light. She looked beautiful, her mouth kiss-swollen and colour-high, and he wanted her, wanted to possess her, not just for the moment, but for always. It was a need he couldn’t explain. Not when he’d vowed to harden his heart and not fall prey to finer emotion. He dropped his hold on her and stepped away.
‘What is it?’
She hadn’t asked him for anything. Even aboard the galleon, he’d offered his assistance. She deserved better. And yet he wondered how he’d let her go when he could only harm her reputation, or worse, wound her heart. He was a selfish bastard to toy with her emotions. The realization didn’t feel good.
‘You should go.’ The words were a gruff growl, composed of anger at himself.
‘I don’t understand.’ Her smile fell away. Did she think she did something wrong?
‘You couldn’t.’ He shoved unanswered questions down and away. ‘You shouldn’t be here with me.’
‘But you asked me to come.’
‘I didn’t expect you’d do it.’
‘I’m beginning to wonder why I did.’ Her face paled.
Even in the sallow hue of morning, he could see her confusion and humiliation.
‘I’ve made another mistake then.’ Anger darkened her eyes. ‘A grand one.’
‘Amanda.’
‘No. Don’t say anything.’ She spun and started towards the hill. ‘You�
��re too fond of goodbye.’
‘Let me help you.’ He followed, catching up in two strides. She had no choice otherwise. There was no way she could mount without his assistance.
They reached the bottom of the slope and climbed the slate steps in silence. At the top, he set to work unknotting the mare’s reins. His head jerked up from the task at her sudden gasp. Not ten feet away, Stokes intercepted their path. Without a word he walked past, his index finger rubbing the length of his scar in a message Amanda wouldn’t understand.
Instinctively she stepped back, her sudden anger forgotten for the moment. ‘Poor fellow. He must be self-conscious the way he sought to conceal the scar on his face.’
Hell, Stokes was brassy and unpredictable. Worse, he wore that scar like a badge of honour.
‘Let’s go,’ he ordered her, but she didn’t move, her focus on Stokes’s diminishing profile. ‘Now, Amanda.’
She returned to his side, compassion replaced by a mulish stare. He placed his palms together and hoisted her atop her horse.
‘I’ll accompany you home.’ Who knew what Stokes had planned. He couldn’t take the chance.
‘That’s not necessary.’ She didn’t bother refastening her bonnet. ‘I managed fine on the way here.’
‘There was little traffic in the early hour and I’d feel better knowing you were returned home without harm.’ He gritted his teeth for patience.
‘Well, by all means, let’s do whatever ensures you’ll feel better.’ She kicked her horse into a trot, leaving him to untie Majesty and give chase, her cheeky reply an echo in his ears.
Stokes lived in a shoddy public house, blackened by soot and occupied by common thieves, cohabitant prostitutes and society’s otherwise degenerate population. It took little work and few questions to locate his address. Unlike other members of the lower element, his scarred face made for remarkable identification.
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