An Extraordinary Lord

by Anna Harrington

  Cold perspiration beaded across her forehead despite the hot flush of her cheeks, and her heart pounded so strongly that her chest hurt. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t move. All she could do was stand there, watching and reliving those last horrible moments before her mother—

  “Look there!” someone cried out near the burning building. “A soldier with a sword!”

  Panic swirled through the crowd as one by the one the rioters spotted Merritt, who had raced toward the burning building to make certain no one was trapped inside. Their surprise turned to rage, and shouts and curses rolled through the mob. A group of men waved their weapons in the air and started toward him.

  A desperate need to protect him flared inside her. Defying his orders, she raced toward him and straight into the heart of the riot.

  “Merritt!” Calling his name so he would know she was behind him, she pulled her sword from its sheath. She wheeled around to face the advancing group and positioned herself between him and the men. “We have to get out of here!”

  “There might be people trapped inside.” He shielded his face against the heat with his left arm and started toward the door. “I have to check.”

  And get himself killed in the process. If the flames didn’t do it, then the mob would. “No one’s inside. Look at the windows! If anyone were inside, they would be at the windows, calling for help.”

  The men hurried closer, their anger at Merritt—and now also at her—flaring with each step. She brandished her sword and cut a swathe through the air in warning. She wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down.

  “We have to leave—now,” she pleaded. The men would be upon them in moments. She and Merritt were too greatly outnumbered this time to fight them off, and these men wouldn’t frighten away like the ones in the alley. “Merritt!”

  He lowered his arm and stepped back from the building, still staring up at it, still searching its façade for any sign of anyone who needed his help. Finally, he turned to face her, and the overwhelming relief that blossomed in her chest nearly undid her.

  But the first group of men had reached them. With her sword in her right hand and her knife in her left, she crouched in a fighting stance and slashed at the men to keep them back. Her blood pounded like a drum in her ears, every inch of her alert and tense, ready to attack.

  Merritt moved into his own battle position behind her. Back to back, they faced the men who now surrounded them. They were both acutely aware of the other’s every step and swing of their blades.

  “At my order,” he told her over his shoulder, “lunge, attack, and retreat. Follow me down the street as fast as you can run, understand?”

  “Yes.” She swung her blade at a man with a pickax who’d come too close and forced him to jump back.

  Her heartbeat pounded off the wait—

  “Now!”

  He lunged and sliced his blade across the arm of the nearest man. Veronica followed less than a second behind, cutting with her sword into two of the men’s legs. The rest of the group charged, and Merritt and Veronica slashed and stabbed indiscriminately as they lashed out at whichever man their blades could reach.

  Merritt pulled back in retreat, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her through the gap they’d cut through the encircling pack of men. “Run!”

  But a few of the attackers gave chase. Merritt steered her down one dark street after another and darted with her through passageway after passageway. Yet the men pursued, determined to catch them and kill them.

  Without warning, he slid to a stop in front of a narrow wooden door to an old abandoned building and rammed his shoulder into it. The door gave way with a loud splintering of wood and slammed open against the inside wall. He yanked her into the building, then kicked the door shut behind them. They were sealed together in the darkness.

  Merritt flattened himself against the wall between the broken windows where the slants of moonlight that shone into the building couldn’t reveal them. His arm went around her like an iron band and pulled her tightly against him, out of sight from the street.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear and warned, “Don’t move.”

  She didn’t dare to even nod as she stood frozen against him, pressed tightly to his chest.

  The men ran past. They chased after shadows down the street and away.

  Veronica and Merritt continued to stand unmoving and silent as the minutes slipped by. The roar of the riot grew into a distant din as the mob moved into a different part of the city. Her ears strained to catch any sound of the men who’d chased them, yet all she could hear in the darkness was the mingling of her breath with Merritt’s and the fierce thumping of their racing hearts.

  Her blood coursed hot through her veins, not helped by the rapid breaths she sucked deeply into her lungs. Every inch of her tingled and pulsed, but only part of it came from being chased.

  She wanted him—dear God, how much! She physically ached with arousal to possess him, for him to quench the yearning that he’d flared inside her since the moment they’d met. A yearning he’d only increased to blazing wildfire during all the time they’d been together since.

  But her feelings for him were so much more than simple physical desire. She needed him, the way she needed air to breathe, the way deserts needed the rain. The way she’d never needed a man before in her life.

  He couldn’t be hers, never completely. Her head knew that. Her heart knew that. But right here, at this moment, he belonged to her. She would take however much of him she could claim and somehow make that be enough.

  “Merritt,” she murmured, thanking God that the darkness hid the true depth of her emotions for him on her face.

  Then she shifted away from him to sheath her weapons, reached down to unbutton his breeches, and sank to her knees.

  Merritt stared down at her as she freed his cock from his breeches, closed her lips around him, and then…bliss.

  He inhaled sharply in surprise, and every muscle in his body stiffened. This was so much more than the kisses and caresses he’d attempted to cajole from her in the alley. This was—Sweet Lucifer. But he couldn’t find the will to stop her. Didn’t want to stop her. The blood that pounded in his veins was too heated to tamp down, the pleasure she stirred inside him too much to resist.

  When a soft whimper from her throat vibrated against his cock, the breath he’d caught poured from him in a long, ragged sigh, and he knew he was lost.

  He couldn’t see her face in the shadows, couldn’t see his hardening length slipping in and out of her hot, wet mouth. But he could feel it…every delicious slide, every teasing flick and swirl of her tongue over his tip, every graze of her teeth.

  She sucked—

  The sensation shot through him and straight out the top of his skull like a lightning bolt.

  His hips bucked. “Jesus!”

  But she held on, refusing to release him. Instead, she clung even more tightly as if she couldn’t bear to let him slip away. The soft suction of her mouth increased its intensity as her hand slid up his thigh. It slipped beneath his breeches to cup his balls against her palm and lightly tease him with her fingers the same way her lips teased his cock.

  A groan tore from him. What she was doing was incredible by itself, but added to the excitement of the night and the openness of their location, less than a stone’s throw from the street…God have mercy.

  He dropped his sword with a clatter and shoved both hands deep into her hair. Leaning back against the wall, he held her head still as he began to pulse between her lips in small, controlled thrusts.

  In response, she slid her hands behind him to clasp both of his buttocks and squeeze with each hard suck. Her cheeks hollowed with every great pull, with every attempt to take him as deep into her mouth as possible.

  He shook violently as he fought for control. His fingers dug into her scalp, and his thrusts came fa
ster now as he moved between her lips. He couldn’t stop the growls and groans that spilled from him.

  She moaned as she experienced her own shudder of joy.

  “Veronica,” he uttered hoarsely in warning, giving her one last chance to stop.

  But she didn’t pull away. He jerked his hips, and when release fired through him and he gushed into her mouth, she drank him in. He slumped back against the wall to gasp for breath, but even then, she didn’t release him until she’d claimed every drop.

  Finally, she pulled back and let his flaccid length slide slowly through her lips.

  He sank bonelessly down the wall to the floor, knees bent and shoulders slumped, as residual pleasure undulated through him.

  Slowly, Veronica rose to her full height and stood in front of him like a goddess at whose feet he was worshipping. Fitting. Because this dark angel had certainly brought him to his knees.

  “Veronica,” he whispered breathlessly. His sex-fogged brain was unable to put words to the sensations spinning through him, all his doubts and troubled thoughts warring with the elation she’d just given him. “What we just did…”

  His voice trailed off into the shadows. For the life of him, he had no idea what to say, unable to admit that tonight was the most amazing encounter he’d ever had with a woman that hadn’t ended with him inside her. That he wanted nothing more than to forget who she was and why fate had brought them together.

  But he couldn’t. The past could never be forgotten.

  His voice ached with grief and regret as he rasped out the truth that both of them knew in their hearts. “That can never happen again.”

  Thirteen

  “And just wait until you see the gardens! They’ll simply take your breath away!”

  Veronica smiled at the exuberant young woman sitting across from her in the carriage. Mrs. Claudia Trousdale, the woman Merritt had chosen to accompany her to the ball.

  He’d sent her a note telling her that he’d taken care of all the arrangements, that she was to dress for the evening at Le Château Noir and wait for a carriage to arrive to take her to Carlton House. She’d done as asked, but she hadn’t expected such a luxurious town coach and beautiful team of matching horses to whisk her away like Cinderella to the ball. Or the young woman who waited inside who would serve as her guide through the evening’s perils.

  Claudia introduced herself before Veronica even had the chance to sit down, insisted Veronica call her by her first name, and then barely paused for breath during the short ride to Carlton House as she crammed in as much information as possible about what Veronica could expect from the evening. Most of it, though, was simply gushing about how exquisite the royal house was and why the party was being thrown. And names. Lots and lots of names and titles that simply flitted right over her head.

  “And of course, as soon as we arrive, I’ll introduce you to my brother, Marcus, and his wife.” Claudia paused only long enough to glance outside the window. The flickering gas lamps that lined the drive confirmed they’d finally wound their way into the long line of carriages that snaked slowly toward the front of the grand building, despite the bells in the nearby church now striking only eight o’clock. “But perhaps you know them already—Marcus and Danielle Braddock, Duke and Duchess of Hampton?”

  Veronica stifled an amused laugh and replied casually, “No, I don’t believe I do.” As if she were in any position to know a duke and duchess! And not just any duke, either, but the man second only to Wellington in being England’s greatest hero in the wars. “The general is your brother?”

  Claudia craned her neck for a better view toward the front portico to gauge how far they were from arriving. “Yes. And I love him dearly.” The carriage’s progress had now stalled completely. She frowned as if contemplating if they should leave the carriage and make a run for it on foot. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when I want to send him back to France.”

  Veronica smiled. She liked Claudia. A great deal.

  “Marcus often forgets that he’s no longer a general and tries to order the Braddock women around.” She slid Veronica a long-suffering look. “It never goes well for him.”

  Veronica’s lips twisted. “I can imagine.”

  “Merritt served under him in the army, you know. In the Coldstream Guards. Merritt and Brandon Pearce and Clayton Elliott—they’re all like family to us. Which was why I was so happy to do this favor for him tonight and accompany you.”

  Her chest panged at the mention of Merritt’s name. She hadn’t seen him since the riot, although thank God she hadn’t, because she had no idea what she would say when she finally did. I hope you don’t mind that I went mad, dropped to my knees, and…

  “To attend this celebration in particular,” Claudia rambled on, “to welcome Prince Gorchakov and Count Wittgenstein to England—and all the other foreign nobles in attendance, too—oh, this is going to be the event of the year!”

  Or how shamelessly I enjoyed it and very much want to do it again.

  “Everyone will be talking about it right through the holidays and into the next Parliament.”

  You’ve gotten under my skin, and I have to find a way to push you out before you destroy me.

  “And to think that we’re among the lucky few thousand who are favored enough to attend!”

  Veronica snapped out of her reverie. “Few thousand?”

  “Oh yes!” Claudia nodded vigorously and set the ostrich plume in her coiffure bobbing. “All the cream of English society will be there.”

  That wasn’t Veronica. But neither was a barrister for that matter. She frowned. “I don’t understand. How did Merritt secure invitations for us?”

  “He sent the palace your name as his guest.” Claudia shrugged, as if invitations to royal balls were everyday occurrences. But then, for the sister of a duke, they most likely were.

  “But why was he invited in the first place?”

  An odd mix of bewilderment and curiosity crossed her face. “You don’t know?”

  Apparently not. “Know what?”

  Claudia began to answer but then hesitated, as if thinking better of whatever she was about to say. Finally, she explained, “Merritt’s father is a High Court judge. One of the most respected and powerful in the entire empire.”

  Her stomach plummeted. He’d told her that his family had worked in law for generations, but he’d never mentioned that his father was a High Court judge. Fate was surely laughing at her! No wonder Merritt judged her so critically. It was in his blood.

  Sensing Veronica’s sudden unease, Claudia reached across the compartment to put her hand over hers. “Don’t be worried about tonight. We’re all here to help you if you need us. Especially Merritt.”

  Oh, he wanted to help her all right. Right back into Newgate.

  “Just enjoy yourself and have a grand time,” Claudia urged and squeezed her hand. “When else will you get to drink this much fine champagne and devour all the truffles you can eat?”

  Veronica stifled a laugh at the irony. When indeed?

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Turning her head from one side to the other, Claudia removed her beautiful teardrop-shaped pearl earbobs and held them out to Veronica. “These are for you, to finish off your outfit.”

  Claudia’s generosity stunned her. “I—I couldn’t possibly wear them.”

  “But you simply must. They’ll go perfectly with your gown.”

  Veronica’s eyes stung at the gesture. Obviously, Merritt hadn’t told Claudia the truth about her, or she never would have offered to loan jewelry to a woman whom society believed was a criminal.

  “I might lose them…” And never be able to replace them. “I can’t accept.” But how much she wished she could! Temptation to reach for them itched at her fingertips.

  “But you have to! I told Merritt I’d—” Claudia broke off and bit her bottom
lip. When she started again, her eyes and voice were pleading. “As a friend—that is, I hope we’ll become dear friends—it would mean a great deal to me if you would wear them. I’ll retrieve them from you in a few days.” Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “Until then, consider them yours.”

  Not wanting to offend her, Veronica reluctantly accepted them and placed them on her ears. She was struck by how perfectly the teardrop pearls matched her gown.

  Claudia glanced out the window. “Our turn.” She let out a long sigh. “Finally.”

  The carriage stopped directly in front of the wide portico inside the courtyard. A uniformed footman in the regent’s elaborate gold-trimmed velvet livery rushed down the wide steps to flip the step and open the door for them. With a quick bow, he reached inside to help Claudia to the ground. Then he turned back for Veronica.

  The moment her slipper touched the gravel she knew she’d been swept away into a magical world. Where else could she have been, all wrapped up in satin and fur and pearls, surrounded by the glow of flickering lamps and the shimmer of crystal decorations? Bright music drifted through the large double doors that stood open wide in welcome to the sumptuously dressed guests who streamed toward the grand house. No, not a house—a palace, where she was a guest of the Prince of Wales.

  Goose bumps dotted her skin. Dear heavens, she’d slipped into a fairy tale!

  “This way.” Claudia took her arm and guided her toward the steps as their carriage rolled away behind them to make room for the next arrivals.

  Veronica pulled in a deep breath to tamp down the excitement crackling inside her and did her best not to gawk at the spectacle surrounding her. She was playing a role tonight, she knew. Just as she knew the only reason she was here was because Merritt and the Home Office still dangled a pardon over her head.

  Perhaps for a few minutes at least, she could do as Claudia had urged and simply enjoy the wonder of the grand ball unfolding around her. Perhaps she might even be able to convince herself that she belonged here.

  Inside the entrance hall, a uniformed footman checked their invitations and then welcomed them to Carlton House with a curt nod of his head. They handed their wraps to a second footman with one hand and accepted glasses of champagne from the silver tray of a third footman with the other. Even the bubbles in her glass seemed to sparkle more splendidly than she’d ever seen in champagne before, and the taste of them popping on her tongue—divine.