A Woman of Love

by Marlow Kelly

She grabbed his head, and turned her body to meet his warm lips, no longer willing or able to hold back.

  His hair was soft in her hands. This was where she wanted to be, in his arms, where she could ignore everything except how his kisses made her spine tingle and her body quiver.

  “You have too many layers,” he gasped between kisses.

  “Help me undress.”

  “Put your arms around me. I’ll loosen your clothes.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, encircling herself in his warmth. Within a minute her bodice loosened, then the skirt and petticoats. He stepped away, and wrenched her free of her dress. It was only then she saw the dagger in his hand.

  Her heart thumped.

  With his free hand he cupped her cheek. “It’s all right. I want you out of these clothes now. Elliott gave them to you, didn’t he?”

  She stood, dumbfounded, unable to answer.

  “I want to destroy everything he gave you. Cut away everything he means to you. Tonight you’re mine. I want nothing of him left.”

  That’s what she wanted too. She intended to tell him, but somehow the words were not enough. She threw herself into his arms, kissing him hard.

  He stepped away from their embrace, and stood behind her. She held still while the lace holding her corset gave way to his blade. An unbidden moan escaped when his strong, warm hands freed her from the cumbersome garment.

  Then he bent on his knees in front of her, and taking the bottom of her chemise, he sliced upwards until he exposed her breasts. She slipped the shreds off her shoulders. She’d never posed half-naked in front of her husband, just the thought made her blush, but if she was going to allow herself this one night with James, then she’d do it to take her pleasure. Tonight she would be bold and uninhibited. He stopped slicing her clothes, and stood in front of her, staring. He held out a hand to stroke her, then stopped in mid-air. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Touch me.” She needed his hands to caress her skin, and his passionate mouth on her breasts.

  He swallowed. “Soon.”

  He held the waist of her pantaloons and sliced down. She sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. Her knees went weak and her stomach clenched. She stifled a moan.

  Once she was naked he placed the knife on the mantel, then stood back and stared at her. Tonight she was not content to play a passive role. This was her night. She would take what she wanted. She closed the short gap between them, grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers, and undid the buttons. She dropped them down to his ankles, taking his underwear with them. He had already undone the buttons of his shirt. She slid it off his shoulders. Then she grabbed his undershirt and whipped it over his head.

  They faced each other, in silence. His long dark hair brushed his broad shoulders. Scars marred the right side of his torso from navel to collarbone. What had caused such injuries? The scars themselves didn’t bother her. They were part of him, part of whatever had shaped him into the man who stood before her. But the thought of the pain he had endured made her heart ache.

  She broke the standoff when she put a hand to his chest, and pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

  Shoving him down, she climbed on top, positioning herself so the apex of her thighs sat at his abdomen. She let herself explore his body. She kissed the scar that ran across his face, and then laid small kisses along the scars on his chest.

  “Don’t touch them, they’re ugly,” he said.

  “No, they’re not. I know what ugly looks like, and this isn’t it.”

  His dark eyes met hers, and then he snagged her mouth with his, kissing her. She ran her hands through his chest hair enjoying the feel of his warm, hard body. No longer content to submit to her exploration, he cupped her breasts, kneading, exciting her beyond control. She felt his supple strength under her hands when he sat up and sucked her breast into his mouth. She arched while his tongue swirled around her nipple; bucking heat radiated through her body and pooled at the junction of her thighs.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  She did, and then inched back until she was level with his penis.

  “I want you to know it’s me inside you.”

  She groaned when he entered her. Her body clasped tightly around him. She lost her ability to think, to rationalize; all she could do was give in to the wild pleasure he created within her. She rode him with abandon. Her excitement climbed until it transformed into a pulsating wave that left her in a shattered heap on his chest. He put his arms around her and rolled so she lay under him, then thrust into her again, pumping wildly. He cried out once he found his own completion.

  She expected him to turn over, and go to sleep once he was done, but he held her close, exploring, touching until they were both aroused again. This time he let her know in no uncertain terms he was in charge. He knelt between her outstretched legs, and scooped her knees over his shoulders. In this position she was totally vulnerable, overextended, taut. He entered her in one powerful thrust, setting off a chain reaction. Her body responded, following some ancient instinct. She surged to meet his thrusts, igniting a thousand tiny fragments of pleasure that flowed through her, consuming her entire being.

  This was where she belonged, right here, at this point in time, with James. Here she was able to let go, and enjoy the ferocity of their lovemaking. Any thoughts of Elliott’s cruelty vanished, destroyed by James’ untamed passion. Her constant fear and vulnerability would still be there tomorrow, but now, in this moment, she was free.

  Chapter Four

  Annabel woke with a start. It took a moment to remember where she was. She and James had made love for hours, until she had collapsed into a sound sleep.

  Now it was time to face reality. If she was going to escape it had to be soon. It was obvious Elliott was tiring of her. Why else would he share her with another man? Her property had been legally transferred to him when they were married, so why would he need her anymore?

  Something niggled at her. She was here because Elliott had lost a hand at cards, but that didn’t seem right. Hadn’t he boasted he always won because he knew how to cheat? If that were true, then this compromising situation was all a lie.

  Had her husband planned her death for tonight? She had to consider the possibility. If anything happened to her, what would become of Beth? Would he kill her too? She shook away the thought. No, until Annabel knew differently she had to believe she could save them from this mess. She needed to make her way back to Windsor before daybreak, sneak into the house, free Beth, and retrieve the money she had squirreled away. From there, they could make their way to Portsmouth, and then catch a boat for the Americas.

  She listened to James’ steady, rhythmic breathing. Once she was assured he was still asleep, she slipped out of bed. Fatigue clawed at her and her legs threatened to give way. His lovemaking had left her thighs tender, her breasts sensitive, and her skin raw where his beard had chafed her flesh.

  Crawling on the floor, she searched for her clothes. It was only when she found the tatters of her chemise she remembered how James had cut her clothing from her body. How had she gotten so carried away, so overtaken with desire she had allowed him to do that? How could she have been so stupid? She couldn’t escape without clothes. She snagged his shirt. The shirttails came to her thighs, and the sleeves were at least four inches too long, but it was better than being naked. She stole out of the room, fumbling down the dark corridor to what appeared to be another bedroom, hoping to find something to wear.

  This was taking too long. She had searched two rooms, and was about to try a third when the creak of a floorboard grabbed her attention. She stopped and tiptoed to the hallway. James stood naked at the top of the stairs. Just that glimpse and her body tensed, readying for him. What was wrong with her? No man had ever affected her this way. This attraction, this need for him, was an unwanted nuisance. She wished things were different, wished she could count on him to help, but he was Elliott’s frien
d, and she had no reason to believe he was any better than her husband. Their shared intimacy had given her the illusion of familiarity, but in reality she didn’t know him. All she knew about him, outside the bedroom, was that he was a friend of Elliott’s. That was enough to make anyone question his integrity. She couldn’t risk him taking her back to her husband. There was too much at stake. Silently, she closed the door, and looked around for another way out. In desperation she ran to the window, and opened it.

  Saying a prayer, she scrambled through the opening.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” James grabbed her by the shirt collar, and yanked her back inside. Then he pressed her against the wall, using his naked body to hold her in place. The coarse hair of his thighs tickled her legs when he kneed them apart. His closeness, the scent of him, and the feel of him leaning against her pelvis made her want to draw him even closer, smother him with kisses, and beg him to make love to her again. Only the thought of Beth, and the knowledge he couldn’t be trusted made her hesitate.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “No.” His moist breath warmed her temple. Did he mean to intimidate or excite her? The way he caged her, his body trapping her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head could have suggested either scenario. Perhaps she should be afraid of him. He was powerful, his scars a sign he had known conflict, but for some reason she couldn’t find it in her to be frightened—aroused certainly, angry definitely, but not frightened.

  “I need to—”

  “What do you need?” he whispered, his voice both inviting and threatening at the same time.

  “I have to go to Beth. You don’t understand—”

  “Did you put it together, is that why you’re running?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “I can’t let you go.”

  She needed him to listen. Fierce, hot anger erupted, and she thumped at his chest with her fists. “How could you be a part of this? How could you help him?”

  He stood back, and narrowed his eyes, considering her. He grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder, like a sack of coal. She kicked him, but his arm held her legs tight against his chest, making movement impossible, so she thumped at his back. She might have been swatting a fly for all he noticed. Frustration gnawed at her. How could she ever hope to overcome a man like James? His shoulder pressed hard against her stomach. He must have realized she was uncomfortable because he stopped, adjusted her, and then rubbed her bare behind with his hand, once again sending unwanted tremors of arousal cascading through her body.

  “Do not think for one minute that I’ll—”

  “I don’t. We’re going to talk, then once we’re done you can leave. Do you understand?”

  She let her body go limp. It wasn’t that she trusted him, but fighting him was futile. He carried her through the house to the library. Once inside he kicked the door shut and placed her on the settee.

  ****

  “Don’t move.” James could not remember the last time he had been this angry or scared. What had she been thinking when she’d climbed out of the window? She could have killed herself. He lit a candle on the mantel, and inhaled deeply in an attempt to gain some self-control. Worst of all, he was still aroused. He’d needed her downstairs; the temptation to drag her back to bed was almost overpowering. He wanted to forget about the favour he was doing for his brother, Nicholas, and make love to her all over again. Of course, he didn’t need a bed for what he had in mind. The settee would do.

  She sat docile on the couch with her hands on her knees. At first glance she could be waiting for afternoon tea, except she was wearing nothing but his shirt. The informality of her wearing his clothes made him wish he knew her better. He wanted to know the little things about her, the idiosyncrasies learned from spending time together. What would it be like to wake up next to her every day?

  Her breasts jutting against the flimsy fabric of his shirt sent his mind soaring back to the bedroom. He remembered how silky they’d felt under his fingertips, and how she had cried out when he licked them. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing because at that moment her nipples pebbled. He transferred his gaze to her face hoping to see her smile and was surprised when she glared. She obviously had no problem resisting her attraction to him. Maybe that was for the best. He needed his mind back on track.

  “Why did you try to climb out of the window?” Had she escaped so she could warn her husband? No, that didn’t make sense, or did it? Had they known about the enquiry from the beginning? But that still didn’t explain her sudden panic.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and looked straight ahead. This wasn’t working the way he’d hoped.

  “Damn it, you could have died. Are you that scared of me?”

  She scowled. “This is not about you, directly.”

  “Then what is it about, directly?”

  “It is about your friendship with Elliott, and the fact that you are the kind of man who would agree to accept another man’s wife in exchange for a debt.”

  “We—you enjoyed our time. I thought you wanted—”

  “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

  “But I never forced…I told you, you didn’t have to—”

  “That’s not the point—”

  “What is the point?”

  “You’re Elliott’s friend. You’re like him. Underhanded.”

  “No, I’m not.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Let’s clear the air, I’m not your husband’s friend…not really anyway. I never meant for things to go this far. I’m working for my brother. He’s investigating Elliott.”

  He wasn’t supposed to tell her about his work, but from the way this conversation was going it was clear she was not an admirer of her husband. In fact, since the moment she had walked through the door something had been amiss. When he’d read Annabel’s file, he had pictured someone vulgar, harsher, not this delicate woman with large, sad eyes that twisted his heart. He wanted to know why a woman like her would have taken up with a man like Peters. There was one name she had mentioned that seemed important.

  “Who’s Beth?”

  Her eyes widened. “Where are the servants?”

  “I don’t need them.” Had she only now noticed they were alone in the house, or was she trying to distract him?

  “Who cares for you?”

  “I do, and I assure you I can dress myself without anyone’s help.”

  He glanced down. He was naked, his erection evidence of his arousal. So much for being able to put his clothes on. He had been in such a rush to catch her he hadn’t even managed to put trousers on. He could go and dress, but then he would have to drag her back to the bedroom, and he didn’t want to take the chance they would lose control, again. Perhaps now she realized she was alone and vulnerable, she might be a little more forthcoming.

  “I want to leave.”

  Or maybe not. “And go back to your husband? I can’t allow that. Did he send you to investigate me? Seduce me, and see what you could find out?” Even though he said the words he knew they weren’t true, but he needed her to tell him she wasn’t involved with her husband’s crimes. He wanted her to be innocent.

  “Why would he—?”

  “Does he know about us?”

  “Of course he does, he brought me here, remember? He told me if I didn’t—”

  “I don’t mean you and me. I mean Carlton Investigations?”

  “Who’s Carlton—?”

  “Don’t pretend. I know you’re his business partner.”

  “Partner?” She jumped to her feet, “I don’t—You don’t understand. I have to leave. I have to get back before it’s too late.”

  She looked ready to run again. He forced her down, flattening her on the seat, pinning her. Her slim, warm body lay under his. He buried his desire, wanting instead to understand her. Why had she married a man like Elliott Peters? And how could she allow him to trade her for a hand of cards?

  “Too late for what? D
oes it have to do with Beth?”

  “Yes. He has her. Please you have to—”

  “Who the hell’s Beth?”

  She thrust against him, but he knew she was no match for his strength.

  “You have to let me go. I have to save her.” Tears streaked down her face. He didn’t ease up, he couldn’t. He needed to know.

  “Who is Beth?” he shouted.

  “My daughter. Please I have to reach her before he hurts her.”

  Stunned, James stepped away, and stared while she struggled to sit up, tugging the transparent shirt around her body. A daughter. Annabel had a daughter.

  Chapter Five

  “Tell me about your daughter. Why do you think she’s in danger?”

  Annabel sat on the settee, inhaled a quivering breath and wiped her tears away with the palm of her hand. “Elliott has her, he uses her to control me but—”

  “So he forced you to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  Part of James was relieved because she wasn’t Peters’ partner, she was his victim. But mostly he was angry because an aristocratic criminal had bullied Annabel and her child.

  Why did he have such a hard time picturing her in the role of a mother? Was it because she was his seducer? A woman with the ability to arouse him beyond control. What had she looked like pregnant? Had she been happy? Had her husband—

  “Is Peters her father?”

  “No, that was my husband, my first husband. I’m a widow.”

  Tension eased from his body. The thought of her sharing a child with Peters was somehow obscene. He concentrated on the problem at hand. “And you think she’s in danger now?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s done with us. Now my property is legally his, he doesn’t need me anymore. I think the reason he gave me to you is that he might be planning to kill me and blame you.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I’ve been running through it in my mind. Elliott losing at cards doesn’t sound right.”

  “I cheated.”

  She made an unladylike snort that reminded him of a piglet. “I don’t know about that. He boasted he could best anyone at cards because he knew how to deceive people into believing he had won fair and square. He knows all the tricks.”