by Jo Beverley
“I’m not letting you go, so you might as well get used to it,” he said harshly, dropping his head to nuzzle the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
Meredith whimpered, unwilling to surrender but unable to help herself. She grew weak when he touched her like this, and she loved him too much to deny herself one last night in his arms. Their passion could not change the future, but, for now at least, she would not refuse him. She flattened her hands against the wall, turning her head to meet his lips in a breathless kiss.
Silverton groaned with satisfaction as his tongue surged into her mouth. Meredith’s legs shook with the intensity of his response, but he held her up by pressing his strong thighs into her body. His hands reached down to untie her robe, quickly stripping the garment away from her.
Pulling slightly back, Silverton let his eyes roam over her breasts, only thinly veiled by her nightrail. He gently traced the delicate lace collar that framed her shoulders.
“Don’t you know you can drive a man insane wearing something like this?”
“I didn’t wear it with you in mind,” she whispered. The roughness in his voice made her insides melt with longing.
“Are you sure about that?”
Silverton licked the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck. He kissed his way down the collar of her nightrail, hot breath through lace, before pulling her nipple into his mouth. The feel of his tongue rasping wetly through the fabric both irritated and excited her body in a way she didn’t understand. She shifted restlessly, captivated by the sight of his head at her breast, suckling her plump curves.
Meredith choked back a protest when his mouth left her, but he paused only to lift her nightrail away from her body. She watched in a daze as the filmy material drifted to the floor. Silverton’s large hands flexed around her waist, and the scalding heat of his tongue once again found her breasts. He laved the nipples until they pebbled into stiff little buds. She moaned again, arching into him as she sought relief from the intoxicating ache that flowed across her skin.
Suddenly, he slid down her body, kneeling on the floor in front of her. She almost stumbled when he released her, grabbing his shoulders to keep from falling. His hands moved to her hips as he gently pushed her back against the wall.
“What…what are you doing?” Meredith gasped.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured.
A small shriek escaped her lips when he pressed a moist kiss to the tender cleft between her thighs. Apparently satisfied with her reaction, he used his tongue to gently probe and tease the sensitive flesh that lay hidden in her nest of curls. Just when Meredith thought she would dissolve under the sensual assault, Silverton slowly pushed a finger into her damp sheath, all the while continuing to lick her quivering softness. She felt her knees begin to crumple.
“My lord!” she finally managed in a strangled voice.
“Meredith,” Silverton murmured before kissing her throbbing bud, “call me Stephen.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that,” she responded automatically. “That wouldn’t be proper.”
Silverton stopped licking her, and she froze, suddenly realizing how absurd their conversation was, given that his head rested between her legs. He looked up at her.
“Oh, really,” he replied, one eyebrow arching up. Then he returned to his task, and her insides begin to tremble from the soft but relentless pressure of his tongue.
“Stephen!” she cried a moment later as she clutched at his shoulders to maintain her balance.
“That’s better,” he growled.
She suddenly caught sight of herself in the large pier glass that hung next to her dressing table. Her pale skin glowed ivory against the red cotton damask that covered the walls. Candlelight glinted off Silverton’s golden hair as she watched him nuzzling between her thighs. His hands, bronzed by the sun, looked large and powerful as they held her against the wall.
Meredith felt a strange disorientation as she gazed at their reflection in the mirror. The sight of his broad shoulders between her legs, the feel of his scalding mouth branding her body as he licked that most secret part of her—all sensation coalesced until her head swam from the intensity of his lovemaking.
She started a slide to the floor, but he gripped her hips firmly and held her in place.
“Stephen!” she implored breathlessly. He looked up, a fierce lust darkening his blue eyes to indigo.
Silverton flexed his long fingers as he gentled his grasp on her hips. He began once more to tease the tight, hidden bud, stroking through the tangle of curls with a steady lap of his tongue. A piercing warmth unfurled deep inside her sheath as an unbearable tension burgeoned in the place where he worked his mouth. Just then, he slid a hand between her thighs and slowly pushed two fingers into her now-drenched passage.
She cried out as she arched her back, shoulder blades pressing into the wall as tremors rippled out from her core and down into her legs. Her lungs seized as a cataclysmic wave of pleasure raced through her body.
Meredith panted, closing her eyes, welcoming the velvet darkness as the ripples faded and her racing heart began to slow. A trembling weakness invaded her limbs. She would have collapsed if Silverton hadn’t held her up with a big hand splayed across her stomach.
She felt him stand, his hands gliding from her hips to her waist as he carefully supported her. Her lids fluttered up. He gazed at her through narrowed eyes. A look of savage possession turned his handsome features into those of a warrior.
Meredith dropped her head weakly on his chest. “My lord,” she muttered, “you are a very wicked man.”
His lips brushed the top of her head, and then he picked her up as easily as if she were a small child. “I’m glad you think so,” he replied as he carried her across the room to the bed.
Silverton set her carefully on the edge of the mattress. He reached behind and pulled her braid around to rest on her chest. His clever fingers quickly began to unravel the entwined strands of hair. Meredith sat quietly, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled her locks free of the tight confines of the braid. When her black curls were loose once more, tumbling around her shoulders, he raked his fingers through her hair and gently massaged her scalp. She moaned with pleasure as she leaned against him.
“Don’t do that to your hair again,” he ordered in a hard voice.
Meredith nodded in mute agreement.
Apparently satisfied with her appearance, he removed his shirt, never taking his eyes from her body as she sat naked amidst the bed linens. He yanked off his boots and quickly stepped out of his breeches. When he turned fully to her, she could see that he was intensely aroused. Meredith couldn’t help trembling with a volatile mixture of trepidation and excitement.
What demons had she unleashed when she had refused his proposal and tried to push him away? No one ever said no to Silverton. She had not only hurt him by refusing his offer of marriage, she knew she had wounded his pride as well.
He climbed onto the bed, pulling her underneath him and crushing her into the mattress. Pushing her legs wide, he came in, plunging hard and deep. She rose up to take all his length inside her, clinging to him with a desperate need to possess him as he possessed her. He thrust in a relentless rhythm that quickly stoked the growing heat inside her womb.
Without warning, Silverton bent and nipped her shoulder, and the sudden flash of pain shot through her body and deep into her sheath, where his thick sex ruthlessly claimed her. She knew he was marking her for his own, and a primitive part of her thrilled to his loss of control and his masculine need to dominate her.
His hands reached under her bottom, tilting her hips so he could drive more heavily into her. Meredith panted with an almost unbearable excitement, her fingers kneading his muscular buttocks as she tried to pull him closer with every hard thrust. She could feel tension building, a fullness in her swollen flesh giving her such intense pleasure that part of her wished it would never come to completion.
But just when she thought she would
scream if she didn’t soon find her release, Silverton slid his arms more tightly around her and rolled over onto his back. He pushed her up into a sitting position as she found herself straddling his hips. Her mouth fell open in surprise at the unexpected change in position. Meredith froze, not sure what to do next.
Silverton’s eyes glittered, and his mouth curled into a purely wicked, utterly male smile. His hands began to roam over her body, stroking her breasts, pinching her nipples, caressing her thighs. His fingers slid down through her drenched curls, teasing her exquisitely sensitive bud, playing with the wet flesh where they were joined.
Meredith’s insides melted like hot syrup. Her head dropped back, a moan escaping her lips as she began to undulate against the huge erection piercing her body. Silverton muttered harsh words that she didn’t understand, pushing her thighs even wider as he surged beneath her.
Although she was on top of him, seemingly dominant, Meredith felt totally exposed—open and vulnerable to his rampant desire. It excited her beyond anything she had ever experienced before.
Pushing against him, she rose desperately through a building spiral of need, wanting but not able to achieve release. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his mouth, trying to communicate her urgency in a heated kiss. He grasped her head and held it still while he explored the silkiness inside her mouth, probing her hard with his tongue. She whimpered helplessly, overwhelmed by a burning desire to reach a completion only he could give her.
He broke the kiss and nudged her back into a sitting position. “I know, my love,” Silverton panted, his own face marked with a harsh need. “You’re almost there.”
Slipping his hand back to the joining of their bodies, he gave one final stroke to her hooded flesh. Then he pressed a finger just inside the rim of her sheath, alongside his own erection.
It was too much. She was too full, and she finally convulsed around him. Meredith twisted the bedclothes in her fists, crying out as a glorious climax raced through her veins, turning her into liquid fire.
As she gave herself over to the heated release, Silverton flexed his hips and drove himself into her one last time, his shoulders coming off the mattress as he surged against her womb. A long, deep groan rose in his throat as his sex pulsated, spilling his seed deep within her.
Meredith collapsed in a heap onto his chest, nestling her face into his throat. His rapid pulse beat against her cheek. He wrapped trembling arms around her body, pulling her securely against him.
Much later, Meredith rested in his arms, listening to the strong, regular beat of his heart. Never had she felt so safe or so loved. But she knew it to be a false security that could never survive the light of day or the cruel regard of his family and friends. She clung to Silverton with all the love and despair she had within her, knowing he was only a temporary refuge against the emotional tempests swirling endlessly in her soul.
Meredith wept silently with the certain sorrow that she would always be alone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Silverton leaned his shoulders against the oak banister of the central staircase, observing the bustle in the entrance hall of the Abbey as the travelers prepared to depart. Trask was already outside and mounted on his huge dappled gray, impatient, as always, to be on his way. The earl had agreed to escort Meredith and Annabel back to London, and only that fact enabled Silverton to allow them to leave without him.
That, and the armed grooms who would also accompany the carriage on its short journey to the city.
Silverton cursed the reasons that kept him an extra day in Kent, but he could no longer delay the impending confrontation with his mother. After that, however, he wouldn’t rest until he had run Isaac and Jacob Burnley to ground.
In the meantime, he had to stand by and watch the woman he loved—a woman in danger—ride away from him. The possessive part of his nature howled in his ear to keep Meredith by his side. He had both right and obligation to protect her, and he resented ceding those rights to others, even for one day. Fortunately, Trask was more than a match for any dangers they might face on the road, and the actual risk of anything happening, Silverton believed, was slight. He doubted Isaac Burnley would try to hurt Annabel again, especially since he must have realized by now that his first attempt had failed. Still, Silverton had no intention of taking any chances.
He glanced up as Robert dashed by him, directing one of the servants on the correct placement of Annabel’s numerous band-boxes. The boy’s enthusiasm, and his concern for his fiancée’s well-being, brought a reluctant smile to Silverton’s lips. His cousin had changed a great deal since his engagement to Annabel, seeming to grow into a man almost overnight.
Of course, Silverton thought with more than a touch of bitter irony, he too was a changed man since falling in love with Meredith. And if he didn’t take care, she would likely drive him barking mad as he struggled to understand why she had changed her mind once again.
He glanced over at Meredith, who stood by her sister, tight-lipped and as still as a marble statue. Her demeanor was in marked contrast to that of Annabel and Sophia, who chatted and laughed merrily with each other. Silverton studied her carefully as she stared down at the patterns in the ironstone floor, deep in thought and oblivious to the cheerful chaos that swirled around her.
And, apparently, oblivious to him.
He tried to suppress a growing sense of exasperation. What a fool he had been to think he could impose his will on her, sexual or otherwise. Meredith had responded to him last night with a desperate ardor, but he realized now that her passionate response was more akin to a farewell than to a capitulation.
“We’re ready to go!”
Robert’s cheerful call from the open doorway jogged Silverton from his frustrated musings. Meredith also started, her eyes flying over to meet his before darting away again. She followed Annabel and Sophia outside, waiting silently for Robert to hand the two girls into the traveling coach.
As Silverton came up behind her, he saw Meredith draw in a tremulous breath as she turned to offer him a gloved hand. She refused to look at him.
“Good-bye, my lord. We are most grateful for everything you have done for us. Please extend my gratitude to your mother for her hospitality.”
He held fast when she tried to pull away, forcing her to raise her eyes to his face. One look in the anguished depths told Silverton everything he needed to know.
“I’ll follow you up to London tomorrow,” he said quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. “We’ll talk then about what is troubling you.”
She tugged again, but he refused to let go. He turned over her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss on the exposed skin above her glove. Meredith closed her eyes, her mouth trembling. Relief washed through him at this small display of emotional vulnerability. For the first time all morning, Silverton breathed more freely.
“Don’t worry, love.” He bent his head to murmur in her ear as he escorted her to the steps of the carriage. “All will be well.”
She shook her head but managed to give him a smile even though her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Silverton had to repress the urge to sweep her into his arms, carry her to his bedroom, and love her until she knew beyond all doubt that she belonged to him—irrevocably and forever.
The time for that would come soon enough, he vowed to himself, as soon as he whipped any and all interfering relatives back into line.
The door to the carriage slammed shut. Robert, Annabel, and Sophia waved their good-byes, and the vehicle moved forward.
“I’ll see you in London,” Trask called as he cantered by, followed closely by the armed grooms.
Silverton raised his hand and watched the carriage until it disappeared down the long drive, rolling quickly into the dense woods flanking the estate. He then spun on his heel and strode through the massive oak doors into the house. As he moved past his butler, Deacon, he barked a question over his shoulder.
“Has Lady Silverton left her room yet?”
<
br /> “No, my lord. The maid has just brought her ladyship her morning chocolate,” Deacon replied. His barely arched eyebrows indicated disbelief that his master could even ask such a question.
“Well, then, I suppose she’ll be in for a surprise,” Silverton retorted as stalked to the stairs that led to his mother’s apartments.
Meredith counted the chimes of the clock out in the hallway. Only nine o’clock, but already the evening seemed endless. She blinked repeatedly, her eyes gritty from an annoying combination of repressed tears and lack of sleep.
The departure from Kent yesterday had depressed her more than she thought possible. She had struggled not to cry when Silverton kissed her wrist before handing her into the carriage. That simple gesture had almost broken her resolve as she struggled against a terrible desire to surrender to his masculine protectiveness.
Luckily, she had managed to restrain the impulse. Meredith bleakly congratulated herself on her willpower in the face of such overwhelming temptation.
What had taken almost as much discipline, though, was containing her frustration with her lighthearted companions on the trip back to London. Robert’s spirits, in particular, were so ebullient that Meredith had wanted to box his ears. Only Annabel had noticed her grim silence, casting numerous worried glances her way. Fortunately, her sister had been sensible enough to leave her alone, both yesterday and today. Meredith couldn’t bear to talk about Silverton and had avoided mentioning his name as much as possible.
She sighed, pushing away the bills that had accumulated on her desk during their trip to the country. The numbers seemed to swim before her eyes, and she knew it was pointless to do any more work until she got some sleep.
