She rang for her sleepy maid, who undressed her and prepared her for bed. Then she sat by the fire and waited for Miles to come to her, her heart beating faster than usual, while a soft, low pulse whispered through her nether regions.
He didn’t come. Time passed and still he didn’t appear at her door.
Where was he? Had he forgotten that they were going to consummate their marriage tonight? She supposed it wasn’t a momentous event for him. Had he changed his mind? Did he regret marrying her?
Round and round went her uneasy thoughts. Only an hour ago, he’d kissed her in the carriage. He’d laughed at her audacity. He’d been happy with her.
She couldn’t sit and wait any longer. She lit a candle and tiptoed the short distance to his bedchamber. Her heartbeat sped up to a steady thrum. She opened the door.
The bed curtains were open. The bed was empty.
Where had he gone?
To a mistress? No, surely not. Miles had told her that he didn’t have one. Not only that, an hour ago he’d seemed to desire Melinda, even to approve of her.
She shouldn’t care so much about approval. She’d fought against wanting it for years . . . but when it came to Miles, she did.
Perhaps he was downstairs, but the house was so dark and silent that she didn’t believe that either. Still, she crept down one flight and peeked into his library. She checked every room on the first floor, then tried the ground floor. No one was there.
Sad and dispirited, she began to climb the first flight of stairs. She had almost reached the top when the front door opened. “Miles!”
He shut and bolted the door, staring up at her. For a moment, she thought she saw that same fury as a few days earlier, but the light was too dim to tell.
“Oh, thank heavens,” she breathed. “I was so worried!”
“About what?” His voice shivered through her, tired and hard, not soothing at all.
“About you, of course. I thought you would come to my bedchamber, but you didn’t! I looked everywhere for you and couldn’t find you. I didn’t know where you’d gone. I thought maybe you’d―”
“What?”
“Changed your mind about bedding me.”
“Never.” He let out a long breath and took the staircase two steps at a time. He grasped her hand and tugged her up the next flight. He smelled of nighttime and the outdoors. He’d changed his clothes since the ball, she realized. “I had to take care of something first,” he said.
“Where did you go?” she whispered.
He ushered her into her bedchamber and shut the door behind them. “I’ve brought you a surprise.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”
She did, wondering. Gently, he lowered something heavy into her waiting hands—something with the chink and jingle of coins. She opened her eyes. A muffler? She set it down on the dressing table and untied the knotted ends. Coins and banknotes—many of them—and slips of paper. She held one to the candlelight. It was one of Mr. Toup’s vowels.
Miles bowed. “Your winnings, Lady Garrison.”
Chapter 12
Relief and . . . oh, unbelievable joy swept over her. “Thank you!” she cried. She couldn’t help it; she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard.
His arms came around her, too, and for a long moment they stood there, clasped together. What could possibly be more wonderful than this? If she didn’t know better—if she didn’t know he didn’t believe in love—she would think he did indeed love her. He’d behaved like a knight in shining armor tonight. He must care about her at least a little, or why would he have gone to such trouble?
She loosened her arms and pulled away to look up at him, trying to read his face. “How did you get them back?”
His lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile. “I went to Toup’s lodgings and took them.”
“Mr. Toup was one of the thieves?”
“He’s not a good fellow. His birth is respectable, but he associates with some very low folk, amongst them footpads.”
“Mr. Fellowes disapproves of him, but I had no idea he was that bad,” Melinda said. “How very courageous of you.”
“Not particularly,” Miles said, looking abashed.
“He could have hurt you, Miles.” She couldn’t help but run her hands up and down his arms and caress his dear face, as if to ensure that he was safe and whole. “You shouldn’t have taken such a risk.”
“You were upset,” he said gently. “Trying not to weep, weren’t you? I couldn’t bear to see you cry.”
Guilt flooded her. She was deceiving him, while he was taking such care of her. “What does my weeping matter, when he could have killed you?”
“No, he’s a coward, like most thieves.” After a second or two, he added, “And Colin came with me, so he would have had to take us both on.”
She put her arms around him again. “I’m so glad you’re home and safe.”
“So am I,” Miles said. “The vanquishing hero gets to claim his prize.”
The guilt retreated as sudden shyness took over. That pulse in her nether regions returned with a deep, heady beat.
He dropped a quick, warm kiss on her mouth. “Are you anxious, wife?”
Wife! Soon, she truly would be a wife. She sighed. “A little. I don’t know what to do.”
“I do.” His murmur, low and enticing, lit a tiny flame in her belly. “I know exactly what to do.” He kissed her again, long and tenderly. “I’ll show you how. Wait right here.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Not far.”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” She followed him across the landing to his bedchamber, where he handed her the candle and picked up a decanter of wine and two goblets.
Back in her room, he poured for them both. “A toast—to a long and happy marriage.”
She raised her goblet. “A long, happy marriage.” A loving marriage, she added to herself. Perhaps they would learn to understand one another. Perhaps it would grow into love. Perhaps he would believe in love someday.
A smile flitted across his mouth. He removed his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He swallowed some wine, lowered himself to the sofa, and set the goblet on the nearby table. He began to unlace his boots and she curled up next to him, tucking her feet under her. It seemed so prosaic, and yet she couldn’t stop watching him. He removed one boot, then the other, followed by his stockings.
He had large feet, with a few strands of dark hair on the toes. His calves had quite a lot of hair. She’d seen Edward and Stephen without shoes and stockings, but for some reason, this was quite, quite different.
Miles slid one of her feet out from under her. He removed her slipper and cupped her foot in his palm. “Cold feet.”
“Warm heart,” she said.
“And even warmer other parts.” He rubbed her toes, and she shivered with the pleasure of it. His lips curled and his eyes rested on her, warm and intent, sending more quivers through her.
Calmly, as if he weren’t the least bit bothered, he removed her second slipper. His big hands warmed and caressed that foot, too, and she shivered again. How could his hands on her feet send messages directly to her private parts? Hot quivers rippled ever wider inside her until her whole being was alive with them. She knew an embarrassing urge to slide down onto the sofa and spread her legs.
She sat up straight and pressed her legs tight together. It didn’t help. No, it made matters worse. Her core began to throb again. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but his eyes caressed as effectively.
He pulled her onto his lap. Through her nightdress and wrapper, his member felt enormous under her derriere. He laid a hand on her thigh and squeezed gently just above the knee. She jumped a little and desire, warm and sweet as honey, coursed thro
ugh her. “I can’t think properly.” She squirmed.
He drew in a sharp breath and tightened his arms. “Stay still.”
“I can’t possibly stay still with your, er, thing poking into me.”
He laughed. “It will be even more difficult to remain still when my ‘thing’ actually is poking into you.” His hand travelled higher, and her legs parted slightly of their own volition. “What do you want now, Melinda? To think, or to do?” His fingers moved slowly, slowly, and then stopped. His thumb rested gently against her private parts.
She knew better than to squeeze her legs together this time.
She did it anyway. Oh, God! She throbbed wildly. She moved helplessly against his thumb. Her head fell back and Miles nuzzled her neck and spread a trail of kisses down her throat. He straightened and withdrew his thumb.
She whimpered. “Don’t stop.”
He laughed. She was so innocent and yet responsive, both shy and bold. “I’ve barely started.” He trailed his hand upward, savoring every inch of her curves, cupping her breast. He brushed her nipple and she quivered under his touch.
What a fool he was! He’d almost ruined these moments for both of them. He’d arrived at the house, found her halfway up the stairs, and rage had almost overwhelmed him. Thank God she’d been unable to see his face. She’d been worrying and waiting for him, not dallying with the night footman while he was gone.
He murmured endearments, hardly aware of what he said, knowing only that she drew these sweet phrases from him as naturally as water wells up from the land.
Miles didn’t believe in love, but Melinda was perfect for him—far more so than he could have imagined. He’d taken his marriage vows in a state of desperate hope, but now he knew he would cherish Melinda, just as he had promised—if only he could conquer the jealousy that still had him in its relentless grip.
Once again, he made the decision to trust her.
He grasped the hem of her nightdress and raised it. Her eyes widened and she licked her lips nervously. He reveled in the silkiness of her thighs and sought her core again. He cradled her, one arm around her, the other cupping her mound, and breathed in the heady aroma that was his Melinda. He should take this slowly, be patient and loving and . . . His cock strained urgently against his breeches. He slipped his fingers into the hot, wet nest that hid her core. She shuddered and moaned and squirmed against him.
Slowly, Miles slid down on the sofa, carrying her with him, his hand still in full possession of her wet heat. She gazed up at him from under heavy lids. Her lips parted and her tongue dabbed at her upper lip. She was enjoying this. She wanted it as much as he, and she was oh, so ready.
Anxiety tugged at him, sharp and bitter. Desiree had enjoyed it, too. Wanted it. Always been ready. So ready that she’d done it with three footmen, and God only knew who else. Sickened, he removed his hand.
“Miles? Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” Miles said, but something was wrong. Melinda couldn’t say what—she didn’t know him well enough to guess, except that perhaps it had something to do with that woman in his past.
What had Mr. Toup meant, when he’d said that one sort of cheating might lead to another? That Melinda would cheat on Miles? Her whole being recoiled at such an idea.
Had that woman cheated on him? It seemed unlikely; according to Lavinia, she had believed he would marry her.
Regardless, Melinda intended to be a good, faithful wife to Miles.
Well, except for deceiving him just this once, but what alternative did she have? She couldn’t abandon Lavinia to a miserable fate, and helping a friend was nothing like cheating on one’s husband.
“This will be more comfortable in bed,” he said. He swept her off the sofa and carried her across the room. He placed her on the bed and kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around him, parted her legs, and wrapped them around him, too. The kiss grew hot and possessive, deep and lush. Their tongues met and tangled, licked and tangled again, and her nether regions strained against his hard member.
Miles broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks. Whatever bothered him, she doubted he would explain—especially if it was about that woman. She had to show him that she cared for him, that she would be the wife he needed. She caressed his cheek and his lips sought her hand, kissing her palm. She slid off the bed and pressed herself against him, ran her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to hers again, but it wasn’t enough. Her breasts tingled and ached; her core throbbed, demanding release. Every inch of her longed for the touch of his bare skin against hers. Longed to show him how much she cared for him, how much she yearned to join with him in passion.
“Let’s get rid of all this clothing,” he said. He pushed her wrapper gently down her arms and let it fall. Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled her nightdress over her head. He stepped back, his hands still resting on her hips, and took a good long look at her nakedness. She watched him watching her, loving the intentness of his gaze, the heat of his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“I want to see you, too.” Melinda untucked his shirt, and he pulled it over his head, revealing a bare chest dusted with dark hair, and a line of hair leading into his breeches. She realized she was staring and felt a blush rising to her cheeks, but she didn’t care.
He grinned at her, that adorable half-smile, and took his time undoing the fall of his breeches . . . slowly, deliberately, one tantalizing button after the other.
She groaned. “Come to bed. Come to me now.”
He laughed and shucked his breeches and then his small-clothes, and she got her first sight of his male member, erect and heavy and . . . unexpectedly beautiful. He climbed in beside her, and she couldn’t help herself; she had to touch it. So soft, incredibly soft, and warm in her hand. She stroked it gently, and he hissed and threw his head back, eyes closed.
And then they were in each other’s arms, all hot skin and heavy breathing, wet kisses and even wetter caresses until she was writhing under his hand and opening feverishly to his touch, and exploding with pleasure, and he hadn’t even entered her yet!
And then he did, long and strong, with an intent expression on his face and gentle pressure below, each time pushing a little farther into her core. A firmer thrust, her final barrier gave way, and he was inside her, deep inside, while she throbbed around him. He began to move, and she laughed aloud, because he was right again, so right. She couldn’t stay still. She had to move, to answer his thrusts with her own, over and over until she burst again, and he gasped and bucked and spilled his seed into her, and they were truly one.
He rested his forehead against hers, and she tangled her legs with his and kissed him, and he kissed her back, fierce and possessive. She closed her eyes, all at once so tired she couldn’t keep them open. He put his arms around her and rolled them both over, clasped tightly together, but his member slipped out of her, and she let out a tiny, involuntary moan.
He chuckled. “Sleep now, sweetheart. We’ll do this again. Many, many times.”
Melinda slipped into a deep, contented sleep. When she woke the next morning, her first thought was: I am truly Miles’s wife.
Her second thought: that she must get the elopement taken care of as soon as possible, not only for Lavinia’s sake, but for her own. If deceiving him had been difficult before, it would now be far, far worse.
Miles lay beside her, snoring lightly. He would almost certainly want to put most of her winnings away someplace safe. She had to hide some of it in her reticule straightaway to ensure she had enough for Mr. Fellowes.
Instead of snuggling up to Miles, which she longed to do, she slipped slowly and carefully off the far side of the bed. She tiptoed across the room to her dressing table and slid open the drawer that held her reticules. She took the sturdiest one an
d crammed several banknotes inside, followed by a few coins.
“Counting your booty?”
She froze, frantic for an excuse. “Yes. Er, it’s—are there some vowels missing?” She hated how her voice squeaked. Usually she was better at acting completely natural while planning something she wasn’t supposed to do.
“Yes, Toup burnt a few of them, but don’t worry, he will pay,” Miles said, sounding rather absent. “What a view to wake up to.”
She turned. “View?”
His lip curled. “Your derriere, and now your breasts.” His eyes wandered over her with lascivious intent.
To Kiss a Rake (Scandalous Kisses) Page 18
