by Jo Beverley
“Can you tell me now what happened to me?” she asked.
He sighed and gripped her hands more firmly. “Annabel didn’t tell you?”
She shook her head. “She didn’t want to worry me. In truth, I think she was too upset to talk about it, so I didn’t press her.”
He nodded and raised her hands to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss on them before returning them to her lap. “The lemonade was poisoned with cyanide. Dosed, we feel sure, by the footman who brought the drink out to the meadow.”
The blood drained from her face. “Why didn’t it kill me?”
Silverton had to close his eyes against the rage that threatened to seize him whenever he thought of how close she had come to death. He took a moment to bring his emotions under control. “Fortunately, the man proved to be inept. He put too much in the pitcher, making it so bitter that you were able to taste it. Thank God you drank as little as you did.”
She shook her head impatiently. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone want to poison me?”
“Not you, my love,” he said quietly, trying to soften the blow. “Annabel.”
Meredith’s eyes grew wide for a moment, before narrowing into angry slits. “Uncle Isaac!” She practically spat his name.
“I’m afraid so, although we don’t, as yet, have any evidence to prove it.”
“Tell me what you’ve done.”
In spite of himself, Silverton had to repress a smile. Meredith sounded so imperious that she really did remind him of Aunt Georgina. He had half expected her to fall apart when he told her the truth; of course, he should have known better.
He related the events that had occurred over the last few days, including the likelihood that Welland had met her uncle and cousin in Aylesford. She listened intently, interrupting once or twice to clarify a point. When he told her the trail had gone cold, a fierce scowl wrinkled her brow.
“This is simply intolerable,” she exclaimed, wrapping her shawl tightly around her body. She was angry, but he could see her begin to shiver. Despite her brave demeanor, she was obviously frightened.
“Surely there must be something we can do. Can you not go to the magistrate and swear out a warrant on my uncle?”
“We need some hard proof, my love, before we can do that. All we have right now is a vague description from an innkeeper, and a missing footman.”
“What about his threat to incarcerate Annabel in an asylum?”
He shook his head. “Your uncle would simply say he was acting on the advice of her doctor. He is, after all, her legal guardian.”
Meredith fumed silently, an angry flush staining her cheeks. “But you are the Marquess of Silverton!” she finally blurted out. “Surely the magistrate will listen to you.”
“On an attempted murder charge, even a marquess needs evidence that will stand up in a court of law.” He smiled ruefully at her. “I’m sorry, Meredith. You mustn’t think I’m doing nothing about it, but for the moment I must wait for some answers from London. I know it’s very difficult, but try to be patient.”
She subsided into her chair with a grumble. “It’s very hard to be patient when one has been poisoned.”
He instantly felt a stab of guilt. “I know, my sweet, and I am a brute to lecture you so. Surely you know I will do everything in my power to protect you and Annabel.” He stroked her cheek, and the rebellious look on her face vanished. Her eyes turned soft and smoky.
“I know,” she whispered.
He leaned forward on the ottoman, brushing back the glossy hair that tumbled around her shoulders. “You must forgive me for not taking better care of you,” he murmured. “If anything had happened to you…”
She placed her fingers on his lips. “But you were there. You did take care of me, and I am fine.”
At the touch of her warm hand on his mouth, all his senses flared to life. “Meredith,” he said hoarsely, “you must believe me…”
“Hush,” she murmured. She placed her smooth, fine-boned hands on his face and pulled him down so that their mouths almost touched.
“No more talking,” she said. Her lips parted, meeting his in the sweet, hot kiss he had been dreaming about for the last two days.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Silverton’s hands closed around her shoulders, Meredith pressed herself against him, desperate to assuage the powerful yearning that possessed her, body and soul.
When she had been so ill in the woods, overwhelmed with nausea and fear, only the feel of his strong arms about her had made it bearable. His strength had sliced through her terror, and on a level deeper than thought, she had known he would keep her safe.
Her memories after their return to the house were disjointed—cries of alarm, servants rushing past them as Silverton carried her up the stairs, Annabel holding a cool cloth to her burning forehead. But what she remembered most was the emptiness inside after Silverton gently placed her on the bed and stepped away, allowing his housekeeper to tend her. She would never forget the tortured look on his face when the older woman shooed him from the room. If Meredith had been able to speak, she would have begged him not to leave her.
But now he was here, and she wouldn’t let him leave again until she showed him how much she loved him.
She hesitantly touched her lips to the edge of his mouth. He instantly took control of the tentative kiss, sliding his tongue across her lips and into her mouth. The taste of him made her head spin. She remembered the flavor of brandy and smoke, and a heat she had secretly craved since the first time he had kissed her.
Silverton broke the kiss, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to her feet. The movement brought her into sharp contact with his erection; she gasped at the thick, hard feel of it against her stomach. Her breasts slid across the brocade of his waistcoat, and she reveled in the slippery, satin feel of it. Meredith couldn’t help squirming in his arms as she tried to ease the ache of her puckered nipples against his hard body.
Silverton growled low in his throat. He unexpectedly broke from her, lifting his head to stare into her face. His skin—already tan—flushed a deeper bronze, and his eyes glittered with a fire that made her knees tremble and weaken. She would have slithered to the floor if he had not been holding her so securely.
He took a deep breath and put her slightly away from him. “Meredith,” he murmured in a husky voice, “are you sure this is what you want?”
His cobalt eyes raked her body with a dark intensity. He stroked her hips through the thin fabric of her nightrail, his long fingers sending waves of heat coursing between her legs.
“Once we start this, there is no going back, for either of us.” His voice held a dark note of warning, bringing her eyes up to meet his.
There was no trace of a smile on his face. In fact, he looked almost savage, and she sensed that he struggled to keep his emotions tightly leashed. She experienced a flash of trepidation at the thought of what would happen to her once she surrendered to his arousal.
But as Silverton’s blazing eyes searched her face, Meredith suddenly found herself swept away by an unfamiliar sense of joy. Since the day she had met him, Silverton had only ever protected and cared for her. Even now, after everything that had led them to this moment, he still offered her the opportunity to step back.
Meredith leaned into him, acutely aware of the coiled tension in his muscles, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Her desire to say yes—to give in to all that masculine energy—was so powerful she could hardly breathe.
Unable to speak past the tightness in her throat, she raised her head and nodded, hoping the look on her face conveyed the depth of her own desires. It must have done so, because a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and the hard look around his eyes began to ease.
“Come with me, darling.” He took her hand and led her to the ornate, satin-draped canopy bed.
Her legs felt boneless, but she managed to follow him without stumbling over her own feet. Silverton turned her to face him, plucking the silk shawl from her sud
denly nerveless hands. He grasped the hem of her nightrail and slowly pulled it up to her waist. She closed her eyes, not yet brave enough to meet his gaze. As the material rustled over her head she heard him expel his breath in a slow hiss.
“God, Meredith,” he said hoarsely, “I really don’t know how I managed to keep my hands from you all this time. You are perfect.”
The tone of his voice as much as his words encouraged her to peek up at him. His eyes were glittering with the same intensity as before, but his smile now held a warmth that eased her trepidation.
She met his gaze with a smile of her own, knowing that she would trust him with every last secret of her soul. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, desiring at this moment only to please him. To her surprise, he shook his head and laughed softly.
“My darling girl,” he said, his face lighting up with amusement, “for once you are to do nothing but lie back and enjoy yourself. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”
Meredith wrinkled her brow. “Well, I’ll try, but I don’t really know what is expected of me.” She smiled apologetically at him.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her as he helped her climb onto the high mattress. “I know exactly what to do.”
Meredith settled against the pillows as Silverton quickly divested himself of his coat and cravat. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of fear for what would come next. She took a deep breath, trying to relax, trusting that he would do all he could to ensure her comfort.
It took him just a few moments to shed the rest of his clothing. He was half turned away from her as he stripped out of his breeches. The uneven light thrown by the fire rippled across the muscled contours of his athletic body, polishing his skin to the color of burnished gold. His broad shoulders flexed when he tossed his clothes on a nearby chair.
Meredith’s heart melted at the sight of him. In her imagination he was like a large, sleek cat, sheathing his claws only for her. To the world, he was a wealthy and sophisticated aristocrat. But Meredith saw beneath the smooth surface to the elemental man. To her, Silverton radiated intense power and a primitive sense of possessiveness toward everything that belonged to him.
Now she knew that possessiveness included her.
He turned back to the bed, and her mouth suddenly went dry. Meredith had a general idea what to expect, but she experienced a small and very real jolt of alarm at the size of him. She glanced anxiously at his face, wondering if she should say something, although she couldn’t imagine what.
Fortunately, her common sense quickly began to reassert itself. Meredith reminded herself that men and women had been engaging in relations since the time of Adam and Eve. Most certainly nature had designed her to accommodate him, even though he did seem very large.
She welcomed him into bed with a hesitant smile, pushing back the gold satin coverlet and fine linen sheets as he climbed in beside her. Silverton murmured his satisfaction as he pulled her into his arms, gently pinning her lower body to the mattress with his legs.
“My sweet, you can’t imagine how long I have been wanting to do this.”
“Actually,” she confessed, “I think I can.”
He laughed softly and then brought his mouth down onto hers. She sank into the pillows, shuddering with pleasure as he skimmed a hand over her breasts and down to her waist. He slipped his other arm under her back, holding her still as he nuzzled her cheek, beneath an ear, and down to her neck.
The restless sensation she had experienced once before grew within her as he kissed his way to the base of her throat and across the top of her breasts. When his tongue dragged slowly over her nipple, she whimpered with pleasure. The slow ache in the hidden place between her thighs began to intensify, the feel of it building in a moist, hot surge.
Meredith’s hands, quite of their own volition, began to roam over his body, stroking up his back and neck to delve into his thick hair. Silverton muttered something against her breast before sucking her pebbled nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.
She stifled a small shriek, jerking her body up off the bed to follow his mouth. He suckled her relentlessly, the rasp of his tongue against her nipple so acutely pleasurable that she could hardly stand it. When he bit down, gently tugging on her swollen flesh, a cry broke from her lips.
He raised his head, eyes blazing down at her. “I can’t wait much longer, Meredith.” His voice was a deep, feral growl. “You test my patience beyond all endurance.”
She groggily lifted her eyes, so dazed by the sensation of his mouth and tongue on her naked body that she barely comprehended what he said. She only knew she would die if he didn’t continue.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, trying to pull him back down. “Please don’t stop.”
His eyes turned black, and he reached down to push her legs apart. Long fingers trailed over the soft skin of her inner thighs, sending shivers deep inside her. Meredith made no attempt to resist, pulling her knees up to open herself more fully to his touch. He stroked into the damp curls between her legs. She couldn’t help squirming against his hand.
“My God, Meredith.” He briefly rested his forehead on hers. “You are so hot…so wet. You drench my hand with your dew.”
She retreated against the pillows, embarrassed by his comment and her body’s uncontrolled response to him. But her mortification fled instantly when his hand delved farther between her thighs. He found the small bud hidden there and gently circled it. She wriggled against his hand, moaning as she sought relief from the almost unbearable feeling of tension deep in her womb. Meredith opened her legs even wider, inviting him to do more—to do what he must to bring her relief.
“Yes,” he purred against her ear. “You’re ready for me, my love.”
He shifted over until he lay cradled between her legs, his erection probing the entrance to her body. He gently undulated his hips, sliding his hard length across her little wet bud. Meredith wanted to weep, consumed with an urgent need to be possessed by him, to be his in every way possible. She heard herself plead with him, the words incoherent as she slid her arms around his neck.
“Open your eyes, Meredith,” Silverton ordered in a husky voice. “Look at me when I come into you.”
She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed, so lost was she in the sensations coursing through her body. He caught her head between his hands and tenderly forced her to look at him. Meredith smiled tremulously into his handsome face, now hard with desire for her, his jaw set like granite. She knew all the love in her heart was reflected back in the brilliance of his gaze.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
He clenched his teeth and slowly penetrated her, pushing relentlessly and deeply into her damp flesh. Meredith gasped in shock at the brutally sharp pain lancing through her sheath as he claimed her.
“Lord Silverton!” Her voice was high and sharp with protest.
He winced, resting on his elbows as he held himself motionless within her. The expression on his face was both regretful and, it irked her to notice, slightly amused.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he soothed, but his voice contained a hint of laughter. “I know it hurts.”
“A great deal more than I expected,” she grumbled, irritated he had neglected to tell her about this part.
“The pain will ease momentarily, Meredith, I assure you.” He reached down and grasped her knee, nudging it up to his hips. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.”
His voice was thick and dark, and in spite of her discomfort it sent a pulse of heat snaking through her belly. She hesitated for a moment and then complied with his gentle command, wrapping her legs over his muscular buttocks.
The pain between her thighs eased dramatically. Silverton remained propped on his elbows, stroking her tangled hair as he gazed down at her.
“Now stop holding your breath.”
Meredith let go the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and loosened her convulsive grip on hi
s shoulders.
“Is that better?” he asked as he smiled at her.
She looked at his face and then let her eyes drift across the hard, perfect body looming over her. Meredith suspected that if she were a weaker woman, she would have swooned from the overwhelming nature of their physical intimacy. Trapped beneath him as she was, she had never felt so vulnerable in her life. But she knew with an unshakeable conviction he would never willingly hurt her again, especially now he had claimed her for his own.
Meredith felt joy pulse through her again as she realized that, for the first time in her life, she truly belonged to someone and he belonged to her. She relaxed and allowed herself to sink into the soft mattress, luxuriating in the feel of his body covering hers. She smiled up at him.
“Oh, yes, my lord.” The husky purr didn’t even sound like her. “That is a great deal more comfortable.”
He bent his head to nibble her mouth before feathering light kisses across her cheeks. “I’m so glad,” he whispered in her ear. He slowly began to move his hips against her.
Her residual pain faded away as the sensual stroke of his arousal ignited the heat between her legs. She pushed up against him, loving the feel of her erect nipples brushing through the coarse hair on his chest.
“Meredith!” he groaned, dipping his head briefly to suck the beaded nub into his mouth. She tilted her pelvis against him, instinctively trying to relieve the growing ache between her thighs.
He withdrew almost fully from her body, and then pushed heavily back into her—the stroke harder now—but with the same slow rhythm that twisted her insides into a tight heat. She fell back onto the pillows, forcing her drooping eyelids open to look at him. Silverton gazed back with an expression that was both fierce and heartbreakingly tender. She reveled in the sense that he so thoroughly dominated her, quivering at the sight of his body moving over her, the feel of his thick hardness sliding inside her.
An unfamiliar weakness began to invade her limbs, captivating her with a delicious sense of enervation as her hips rose to meet his languid strokes. Meredith had imagined their first joining as breathless and wrenching. Instead, she felt herself melting beneath him in a luxurious swirl of acute sensation.
