She sealed this second letter and wrote Blake’s name on the other side. She stood, wiping furiously at her wet cheeks, and crept out into the quiet corridor toward the room she knew to be Blake’s. She slid the missive beneath the door and straightened. A deep breath helped to brace her and she returned to her little chamber for one final night, though she wouldn’t pass all of it within. She prayed that sleep would find her despite the early hour, and steady her for the trial to come.
* * *
Hours later, Blake found The Hideaway as expected, dark and quiet. He crossed through the dining room and lit a candle, then wearily climbed the stairs to his chamber. Mentally congratulating himself for passing by Taylor’s door without hesitation, he entered his room and set the candle on the mantle.
His fine bed beckoned and he let out a sigh as he shrugged out of his jacket. His waistcoat and shirt followed and he sat down to remove his boots. He stretched with a soft groan. The letter caught his attention then, on the floor just under his door. Alarmed, he snatched it up. The graceful hand in which his name was written immediately gave him the identity of the sender. Taylor. He broke the odd seal of wax and stood closer to the candle to read the contents.
Dear Blake,
I can scarcely believe I’m writing this letter, but the past fortnight has made any hope for more direct communication with you out of reach. Thus I take my leave of both you and The Hideaway now, while you’re on a mission.
I thank you for your generosity, and for your protection. I shall find a way to repay you once I am settled. Please know that I greatly appreciate all that you have done for me. But now, it is time for me to move on. I cannot rely on your generosity forever. I need to reclaim my life.
I remain—
Forever yours,
Taylor Shelby
For how long Blake sat there with Taylor’s letter of farewell clutched in his hand, he wasn’t sure. She’d left The Hideaway? Where the devil would she go? Not to Sussex, that was certain. Of course, London. He glanced once again at the missive’s meager contents. She thanked him for his generosity? For his bloody protection? His stomach clenched. Ah, what a fine protector he was, forcing his attentions on her time and again despite her virtue and innocence. And he knew she’d take it upon herself to look for Robert. God, what a mess.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, closing his eyes.
Sounds reached his ears then, the faint squeak of door hinges followed by the light tread of footsteps. He sprang from the chair and opened the door to his chamber. He heard a gasp from the corridor as Taylor whirled to face him. She wore her cloak and carried her valise, looking much as she had when she’d arrived weeks ago. In the dim light flowing into the hallway he couldn’t read the expression in her eyes.
“Where are you going, Taylor?” he asked.
She raised her chin. “I’m leaving.”
She straightened her slight shoulders and turned away from him once more. Blake stood there and watched for a moment, frozen. She neared the top of the stairs and at last he moved. Three quick strides and he had her in his arms. Every nerve in his body reacted. Lord, her body fit so well against his. He breathed in the sweet scent of her and held her closer, conscious of her hand fisted between them on his chest.
“Where are you going, Taylor?” he asked again, his lips close to her ear. “London?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered.
He didn’t miss the trembling in her body even through the thick cloak. He pushed the hood back from her face and cupped her cheek. “You want to look for Robert,” he said, stroking her cheek, her lips.
She swallowed audibly and gave him a shaky nod. “Blake, I—”
“I can’t let you do that, love,” he said. “Not on your own. I want you here.”
She shook her head. “Not as your mistress. No. I might be alone in the world right now, Blake. But I have my father’s memory and the promise of my brother’s life. I won’t be shamed.”
Her words cut him. True, he’d like nothing more than to keep her in comfort and find his pleasure with her night after night. But to shame her so? He couldn’t live with that.
“I wouldn’t ask that of you. Be my wife,” he said. The surprise on her face might have been comical if he hadn’t set such store by her answer to an offer he’d never thought to utter again.
“I would never shame you, Taylor,” he went on, bringing his face close to hers. “Marry me.”
“You want to marry me? But I don’t have much to bring, Blake,” she breathed. “My inheritance yes, but no real fortune. Certainly no title.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I have a title,” he said in dismissal. “I have plenty of money. I want you, Taylor. Not what you’d bring to our marriage.”
The doubt on her face nearly killed him. “Truly?”
He kissed her and nodded. “I want you to be my wife.”
She blinked at him as her mouth moved. “I want to be your wife too.”
He laughed at her comment. She looked at him in confusion.
“I’m sorry love. I didn’t mean to laugh at you, just at what you said.”
“Why?”
“Because, you are the sweetest and loveliest woman I have ever known.”
“Oh,” she said, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed her nose. “And thank you for accepting my suit.”
“But you have to promise me, Blake . . .”
“I know. You want me to keep looking for Robert.”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Promise me, Blake. Please.”
He held her close. “I promise.”
The tiny gasp she uttered told him she was as affected as he. Her fist unfurled and she pressed her palm against his bare chest.
He brought his lips to her cheek, her ear. “Tell me what else you want, Taylor,” he gently ordered. “Tell me what you really want.” Her eyes drifted closed and he worked her fingers free of her valise. The bag fell to the floor with a thump and he brought her hand to his lips. “Tell me what you want, Taylor.”
Her eyes opened. Even in the dimness of the hallway he could read the passion in those blue-gray eyes. “I want . . .”
“Yes?” he urged.
She licked her lips and ran her gaze over his face and Blake’s blood began to pound. “I want you.”
“Say it then,” he said. “Please.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I’ll marry you.”
His heart began to beat again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
They both laughed this time.
He drew her close again and gazed into her beautiful eyes.
“Kiss me please, Blake,” she said in a breathless whisper.
He crushed his mouth to hers and was rewarded with her swift surrender as he removed her cloak. It joined the valise on the floor. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he flicked his tongue over her silken skin.
“Blake,” she gasped.
His fingers were on the tiny buttons at the front of her simple gown a moment before he realized their position. My God, they were in the hallway when his fine large bed was empty in his chamber! He kissed her succulent lips and let out a strangled laugh. She gazed at him in puzzlement and he couldn’t suppress a grin. “I won’t take you here in the corridor, love.”
Her eyes grew round and she glanced about. Before she could give voice to the apprehensions he read on her face, he picked up her valise and cloak and took her hand in his. “My chamber, Taylor.”
He urged her toward him and kissed her mouth again. Soon they were safely ensconced in his room, the door closed tight and the lone candle illuminating the two of them. They came together once more, her hands tracing over his chest as he worked the buttons of her gown free. The dress and her petticoats fell to the floor and she stepped out of them and then her little slippers. He took a moment to gaze hungrily at her chemise-clad figure. Praise God, no stays again. The gauzy fabric revealed more than it hid,
as it had that night he’d crept into her chamber to check on her. Desire filled him now as it had then. He watched raptly as she removed the pins holding up her lustrous hair. Then his hand reached out to her.
“Come, love.”
* * *
Taylor studied that hand, those strong fingers that had brought her such pleasure before. Innocent though she was, she could read the passion that hardened his body, darkened his eyes. The part of him that had pressed so intimately against her that night in her little iron bed was now outlined through the thin fabric of his breeches. Though she suspected any true lady should feel alarm, she only felt delicious anticipation. Taking a breath to calm herself, she placed her hand in his.
“Ah, Taylor,” he smiled.
Her chemise whispered over her skin as he quickly removed it. Those beautiful blue eyes of his raked over her and she nearly swooned. Her skin heated in a rush as he brought his gaze to her face. In a moment she was in his bed, the linens cool beneath her bare back. He stretched out on top of her and she moaned from the pleasure of it. His mouth began its sensuous exploration. Kisses burned along the length of her throat to her breasts. When he took one nipple in his mouth she arched to meet his caress. Her fingers cupped his head and she held him there, barely aware of her actions as she spread her legs to his strong fingers. Once again he stroked her, awakening the passion that had claimed her the last time they were together. First one finger then two entered her and she felt a quickening in her blood as she stretched to accommodate him. “Blake!”
Pleasure spiraled throughout her body from the point of contact. From his skilled fingers and the delicious torture he inflicted on her flesh. She responded in ways she hadn’t known she could. Stretching to accommodate him even as she bucked and writhed in his hold.
He laughed softly against her breast. She heard a rustle of cloth and then his hot arousal pressed against her tender flesh. “I need you, Taylor,” he rasped. “Now.”
She could say nothing as she gazed up at him. She felt the tip of him at her center and watched as he closed his eyes in obvious pleasure.
“Ah, God . . . ,” he groaned.
Taylor reached toward him, suddenly stilling as it all became too much. He was too big, she was too small . . . He was going to tear her in half! “Blake, wait—!”
“I know you’re small, love.” He kissed her, holding himself just short of making her completely his. “I’ve known you forever,” he whispered. “You’ve never been a girl to back down from a challenge.”
She managed a laugh at his words even as he eased farther inside her. “Are you challenging me now?”
He kissed her again, smiling through his intense expression. “Wholeheartedly.”
“Then come inside me.”
“Are you sure?”
Oh, he looked worried now and that put her own fears aside. “Yes.”
With one thrust, he broke through her maidenhead and she cried out. He didn’t still, but stroked within her again and again until she forgot the pain and caught his rhythm. The kisses he dropped on her face, her breasts, as he moved, eased her discomfort. That tingle of pleasure began anew within her and she gave herself up to his passion.
“Taylor, love,” he moaned. “Hold on to me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, so close she could scarcely tell where she ended and he began. In the next moment she lost herself as waves of pleasure washed over her. As if from far away, she heard Blake’s guttural shout as he poured himself into her.
When she was once more aware of her surroundings, she welcomed the weight of Blake’s body on top of hers. His face was beside her on the pillow, his eyes closed, a smile fixed on his handsome face. His breath still came fast, his hands still stroked her face, her breasts.
“My God,” he said.
“Mmm,” she agreed.
His eyes opened and he held himself above her. “Are you all right?”
Taylor touched her hand to his cheek. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I admit I didn’t think you would fit. But then you . . . did.”
He burst out laughing and hugged her close. A sheepish grin covered his face. “I went a bit mad there for a moment, love,” he said. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“For how long?” she asked.
He smiled again, and this time the expression was free of the tension she’d seen earlier. “Forever, I think.”
She nearly lost her breath, then a warmth filled her even hotter than the passion they’d just shared.
“And I’ve wanted you since your engagement party.”
He blinked and shifted to rest on his side. “My engagement party?”
She covered her eyes with one hand and let out a laugh. “Yes. You probably don’t even remember my being there.”
He stiffened. “I strive to remember very little about that party, Taylor.”
There was something in his tone that spoke of hurt. Oh, why hadn’t she pressed Robert for an explanation of his break-up with Pamela? Well, she certainly couldn’t ask about that woman at this moment.
She said nothing more, suddenly awkward to be lying there naked with him and talking as if they sat belowstairs in the dining room. He must have sensed as much, for he covered them with the linens he’d so hurriedly turned back earlier. Their bodies still touched, and the comfort couldn’t be denied as his strong arms cradled her. They settled down beneath the linens and he held her close as she fell into slumber.
* * *
Blake stroked her hair as he let his eyes drift closed. He’d have to procure a license, that was certain. A note to his brother would need to be written, both to stop Jason’s search for a governess position and to ask him to stand up for him. A smile curved his mouth as he imagined Jason’s smug response. No matter. He dropped a kiss on Taylor’s tousled curls. She was his and would remain so.
The strong regard he felt for his bride-to-be didn’t matter, either. She was his ward as surely as if Robert had declared it before his disappearance. He’d keep her there at The Hideaway—aptly named, to be sure. There he’d keep her safe and protect her from herself. And if she came to care for him in the course of their marriage, he’d accept her affections.
She was dear to him. That was certain. He’d known her forever, really. He was responsible for her but it was more than that. He wouldn’t pledge his heart, though. It was scarred and damaged and she was far too fine to have it forced upon her. He wouldn’t leave himself open to more than mere affection. Pamela had shown him that his love wasn’t of any value so why would he think Taylor would want it even if he could give it?
Taylor sighed and settled against him and his heart tightened for a moment. Lust, surely. The girl was exquisite, sweet and sensual. And she was his. The rest he wouldn’t think about now. He’d protect her and she’d remain true to him. Pamela’s perfect image danced before his weary mind. He still bore the scars of the pain that witch had caused him, that was true. But his heart wasn’t engaged at present, and nothing would happen to change that.
Would Jason inform their father of his coming nuptials? Blake had rejected the man’s insistence that he wed the dull daughter of a family older than even the Thompson’s; it was but one cause of the rift forged between the earl and his second son four years ago. Any objections the old bastard thought to raise would come after Taylor was safely wed to him. He owed as much to Robert. And to her.
Chapter 13
The sunlight woke Taylor and she stretched amid the soft linens. The scent of cinnamon teased her nose. The bed seemed unfamiliar to her, the mattress quite comfortable and not lumpy in the least. She yawned and opened her eyes. Recognition dawned as she gazed at the sumptuous furnishings. The blue and gray fabrics were quite fine, the draperies and upholstery fitting a man of Blake’s true standing. The bed in which they’d slept—more than slept—was wide and made of polished dark wood. She heard humming from behind a door, a deep masculine sound of contentment. The door opened and Blake stepped o
ut of what was obviously a dressing room. He buttoned his dark waistcoat over his snowy-white shirt and grinned at her. “Good morning, love.”
The memories assailed her, passion and need and Blake’s surprising wedding proposal. She offered him a smile and sat up, holding the linens to her bosom. “Good morning,” she said shyly.
His gaze danced over her and she raised one hand to her hair. Hopelessly tangled. He stood there and studied her, a smile teasing his well-formed lips, dressed and collected and handsome. And she was a sorry sight to be sure. Raking her fingers through her hair, she affected a calm she didn’t feel as he stepped closer to the bed.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
Taylor nodded mutely, her eyes fixed on the thick draperies bracketing the windows. It took little imagination to recall his appearance last evening, that strong body free of any clothing. Blake had braced himself on his arms as he’d covered her. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of what followed.
“I thought we could take breakfast together,” he went on, striding toward the large chairs set near the fireplace.
A low table supported a tray holding a pot of tea and some of Mrs. Mott’s fine sweet rolls. Oh, that explained the cinnamon aroma.
“Thank you,” she managed.
She swung her legs over the side of the high bed and let them dangle there. He arched a dark brow at her. How could she tell him she was nervous to be naked in his presence now, after so freely giving herself to him last evening? No modesty had claimed her then. It was most befuddling.
“I’ll go belowstairs and see to some eggs and ham, Taylor.” He bent and picked up her chemise from the floor. “I take it you wish to get dressed?”
Heat flooded her cheeks once more and she nodded as he handed the discarded garment to her. He chuckled and let himself out of the chamber. Taylor wrapped the loose sheet about her body and padded over to the dressing room. As expected, she found a washstand and saw to washing. Blood colored the water in the bowl a pale pink and she stilled for a moment. Well, that maiden was no more.
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