An Extraordinary Lord

by Anna Harrington

  She kissed him, then rasped out against his lips the terrible confession, “Not mine.”

  For a long moment, he didn’t move as understanding of what she meant fell through him.

  She felt his shock fade into acceptance as his lips slowly relaxed against hers. But only for a moment before his kisses turned hungry and fierce, hot and openmouthed, as if he knew the absolution she sought in him for everything she had done, and not just tonight but for years before.

  Yet the initiative had to be hers to take. So she broke the kiss and pushed him down onto his back. She peeled her shift up her body, over her head, and off, exposing herself completely to his gleaming eyes.

  The heat of his gaze raked over her. He stirred up goose bumps across her skin and drew her nipples into tight points. When he caressed her breasts with his hands, a whimper of such unbearable need escaped her that she shuddered.

  Unable to restrain herself any longer, she placed her palms flat on his chest and rode him hard and fast. His pulse pounded wildly beneath her fingertips, and she dug them into his muscles as the pleasure grew inside her. With every forward slide up his abdomen, she felt the loss of him inside her, only to give a soft moan of joy when she slammed back and brought him once again inside her to the hilt.

  Tossing back her head, she welcomed the swelling need that overwhelmed her as her body spasmed around his. All the muscles inside her clamped hard around his length, and her thighs shook uncontrollably as they clasped like a vise against his hips.

  Pleasure pounded through her, from that place of pulsating heat where their bodies joined straight out through the top of her head. She cried out as bliss overtook her, only realizing after she’d collapsed upon his chest that she’d screamed his name into the darkness. An unconscious attempt to brand him onto her soul.

  His arms tightened around her as she struggled to regain her breath. The decadent pleasure washed over her in waves. All of her tingled, all of her belonged to him. In her heart, she knew she always would.

  He buried his mouth in her hair and whispered between panting breaths, “Are you all right?”

  Unable to find her voice, she nodded against his shoulder.

  “Did you enjoy that?”

  Enjoy? Her soul laughed! The shattering had been so much more than mere enjoyment. Yet she nodded again.

  “Good.” Not withdrawing from her, he flipped her onto her back and pinned her arms against the mattress over her head. His eyes bore into hers with a look of such wicked intensity that she trembled. “My turn now.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t move except for a small wiggle of her hips that only served to elicit a groan of wolfish pleasure from him. “Merritt, if you—”

  He thrust into her with a hard swirl of his hips that pressed his pelvic bone against her already sensitized sex and ripped her breath away. He prompted devilishly, “If I what?”

  He did it again, and stars flashed before her eyes.

  “If I make love to you slowly and relentlessly, for hours and hours and hours?”

  He darted his head down to lick at her nipples, and every teasing flick of his tongue drove her mad. She could do nothing more than moan out his name in soft protest and intense yearning.

  “If I told you how much I want you to surrender to me, to give yourself to me in every way?”

  He took her nipple between his lips and suckled, long and hard and worshipping, until her breaths came in panting gasps. She arched her back off the mattress to bring herself even tighter against his mouth.

  “Because that’s what I want, Veronica.” He placed a tender kiss to her nipple. “I want you to surrender to every pleasure I plan on giving you.”

  The only reply she could manage was a shuddering whimper of capitulation.

  He reached down to slip his arms beneath her legs and hook them over his biceps. Then he placed his hands flat onto the mattress at her shoulders. When he locked his elbows, he rolled her high onto her upper back beneath him and lifted her hips completely from the mattress. In this new position, she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him as he began to move inside her.

  Each plunge and retreat created a seesawing motion that rolled her back and forth along the length of her curled spine, from her shoulders to her buttocks. With each long and smooth rocking motion, he went impossibly deeper inside her until she felt as if she might slip completely beneath his skin and become part of him forever.

  She let go of his shoulders and grabbed for the headboard. “I can’t—I can’t hold on…”

  “Then let go,” he ordered huskily as he released her legs and let them wrap around his waist, to hold him clenched in the cradle of her thighs. “Let go and claim your pleasure.”

  He placed his hands on the headboard next to hers for leverage and began to thrust into her hard and deep as he relentlessly drove them both toward release. His muscular body was covered in a sheen of perspiration in the moonlight as he worked like a piston, plunging and retreating into her tight warmth without pause.

  “Let go,” he whispered hotly into her ear. “Surrender to me, Veronica. Let me give you this joy.”

  He swirled his hips against hers, and the tender motion threatened hot tears at her eyes. She let go of the headboard to encircle her arms around his neck—

  And let go of her control. She broke beneath him with a swell of such shuddering joy and anguish that she shattered like glass from the intensity of it. She clung to him, burying her face against his neck and blinking hard to fight back the tears.

  His arms went around her to pull her close. He took two more long and deep thrusts. Then he pulled out of her and slid his length between their pressed bodies. He shuddered with a low groan. His hips jerked, and a warm wetness seeped across her abdomen. His buttocks clenched as he strained to empty every drop of himself.

  When he was finally spent, he didn’t ease his hold around her even as he struggled to regain the breath she’d stolen. No move to release her, no move to shift away…only his mouth sliding down to her ear to whisper a single word—

  “Bliss.”

  With that, she was lost.

  Nineteen

  Dear God, she was beautiful. Merritt could barely believe how much. So much so that he couldn’t stop touching her.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to.

  He lazily caressed his hand over the soft curve of her hip as they lay on their sides in his bed, facing each other. Her skin was deliciously soft and warm, her eyes intense as they returned his stare. She was fierce, his little minx, and just as turbulent and passionate as he’d imagined. But now he also saw a vulnerability lurking beneath her strong façade, the same one that had brought her to him tonight and convinced her to bare herself to him, body and soul.

  Tracing an invisible pattern along her outer thigh, he frowned. “Not that I’m complaining, but—”

  “You’d better not.”

  His lips curled into a smile. “But how did you know where to find me?”

  Her head rested on her folded arm, allowing her hair to fall across the mattress as if someone had spilled a bolt of copper-colored silk. “Madame Noir told me.” Her turn to frown. “How does Madame know where you live?”

  “Not because she or any of her girls have ever been here, I assure you.” Was that jealousy he heard in her voice? God help him, but he liked the sound of it. “It’s her business to know things like that. A good soldier,” he said as he trailed his gaze down her front, “always knows where the enemy is.”

  “I’m not your enemy anymore.”

  And that was wounding he heard this time. “You were never my enemy.” He placed a light kiss to her lips. “You were a challenge and surprising as hell.” And the most unique woman I’ve ever met in my life. “You were a puzzle I couldn’t solve. Until tonight.” Another kiss to her lips, this one lingering
before he eased away. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “I didn’t know if you would listen,” she whispered. “You could have turned me away.”

  “And miss the chance to see what weapons you might have hidden beneath your skirts? Never.”

  He slid his fingertips lightly up her arm in an attempt to appease himself with this small touch. It wasn’t working. He so much wanted to bury himself between her thighs again that he burned with it.

  A faint smile teased at her lips. “You’re quite the lover, Mrs. Fitzherbert.”

  His chest warmed at the compliment. A man could certainly do worse than being told things like that. He grinned arrogantly. “Well, thank—”

  “No wonder the regent is so infatuated with you.”

  His grin twisted into a grimace, and he finished in a dry drawl, “—you.” He slapped her playfully on her bare bottom. “Thank you.”

  She laughed, the lilting sound musical in the shadows. Apologetically, she reached up to caress his cheek. Her affectionate warmth heated through him and made him long for all sorts of things he had no business wanting. And damn himself, he wanted far more with her than physical pleasure.

  But other matters had to be addressed first.

  He placed a kiss to her fingertips, then held his breath. “Whose blood is on your dress?”

  Her laughter died.

  He didn’t mean to upset her. But it was either venture down this path or declare that he loved her, and this path had less chance of giving them both apoplexy.

  He frowned at the flash of pain on her face. Perhaps not.

  “A man came after me tonight at the Court of Miracles.” Her voice was so low that he could barely hear her.

  Christ. He’d put her into danger, and self-recrimination pierced him. “Because the men there learned who I truly am?”

  “No. This man wasn’t one of Filipe’s. He was there because of the riots.” She placed her hand flat against his chest and right over his heart. “He knew I’d been asking about them.” Her fingertips curled into his muscle, and her gaze pinned there, avoiding his. “He came to kill me.”

  He clamped his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. Hard. As they trembled in his, he’d never felt more helpless in his life except for the night Joanna died. Damnation! Would he ever be able to protect the women he cared about?

  “What happened?” he urged quietly.

  She shrugged a bare shoulder. “He didn’t succeed.”

  “Obviously.” Her nonchalance did nothing to untie the roiling knot of worry in his belly. He took her chin and gently lifted her face until she looked directly at him. “What happened, Veronica?”

  She blew out an aggravated sigh. “The man was in my room—in my corner of the warehouse, that is,” she corrected. Her gaze traveled around his bedroom. The unspoken comparison between there and here, her life and his, was tangible in that glance. “He was threatening me, holding Ivy at knifepoint…”

  As she casually rushed past specific details, icy fear licked knowingly at the backs of his knees at what she wasn’t admitting—she’d been lucky to escape with her life.

  “Filipe heard us and killed the man.” Another shrug, as if death were as commonplace in her world as buying eggs in the market. She’d admitted tonight that she’d killed men in the war, but…Jesus. “Then I disposed of the body.”

  “How?”

  “I left it in a nearby alley.”

  “That’s how you got blood on you,” he murmured, and she nodded.

  The life she must have led to be able to dismiss such horrible things so lightly, the inner strength she must possess to simply keep going—good God. He’d never met another woman like her.

  “Who was he?” He laced his fingers through hers to keep her hand on his chest and searched her face for answers. “Had you ever seen him before?”

  “No. I would have remembered him.” Her gaze dropped to their entwined hands. “But he had a tattoo—the same key design as the pin General Liggett was wearing on his uniform. Do you think they’re connected?”

  “Most likely just a coincidence.” Liggett might have been a deplorable human being, but sending an assassin after a woman wasn’t his style. There was no glory to be won in it.

  “But you’ll check into it.”

  Not a question, he noted. Already she knew him well enough to realize he planned on doing exactly that. But troubled thoughts warred inside him…pleasure that they’d grown so close, doubts that he could keep her safe.

  So he answered the only way he could, by reassuringly touching his lips to hers.

  “I’m sorry about the dress,” she said softly, embarrassed. “I know it cost a great deal. I’ll find a way to repay you for it—and for all the other clothes.” She rolled over onto her back and whispered up into the darkness, “But it might take a while.”

  He shifted over on top of her. “They’re a gift. Keep them and wear them. Or sell them and use the money to buy yourself what every smart woman longs to have.”

  “What’s that?”

  He grinned. “A new sword. One to match every dress.” He nuzzled the side of her neck in an attempt to distract her from the darkness of their earlier conversation. “Like bonnets.”

  She laughed. That wonderful sound once more wound around him like a silk ribbon, tying him to her. He knew then that she would be all right. Thank God.

  But her laughter died away. “I had to leave everything behind at the Court when I left.” Guilt filled the silent pause. “Including the earrings you gave me.”

  Somehow he managed to keep his face passive. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d figured it out, a woman as sharp as she was. Yet he feigned ignorance. “What earrings?”

  The chastising look she shot him would have done a nun proud. “You might be an amazing lover, Mrs. Fitzherbert, but you’re a terrible actress. I know you plotted with Claudia to give them to me. What I don’t understand is why.” She reached up to touch his cheek, a caress of gratitude edged with frustration. “Was it because you didn’t want to be known as a barrister who gives jewelry to criminals?”

  That stung. Yet he deserved it for not trusting her sooner. “I wanted you to have them, that’s all.”

  “Why didn’t you just give them to me yourself?”

  “You’ve been away from society for too long.” He feigned exasperation with a long, loud sigh. “You have no idea how dangerous it is for a bachelor to give jewelry to an unmarried miss.”

  From her expression, she wasn’t falling for his act. “Even a baron?”

  “Especially a baron.” To distract her from taking the conversation in the direction of his peerage, he trailed his hand lazily down her body and thrilled when he elicited a tremble from her.

  She arched wantonly into his touch. “Well, I won’t hold the ruse against you.”

  “No,” he countered in a wicked voice and slipped his hand between her legs. “Please hold everything against me.” When his fingers grazed against the sensitive nub buried at the top of her folds, her hips bucked. He growled appreciatively and nipped at her ear. “Everything.”

  He wanted her, and he would have her again before morning broke—repeatedly, if he had any say in the matter.

  But for now, he didn’t want to overwhelm her and slowly pulled his hand away. At the whimper of loss that fell from her lips, he nearly relented and made love to her again right then. Instead, he gave her a long, lingering kiss that promised more to come and rolled onto his back beside her to tuck her protectively into the hollow between his shoulder and his chest.

  He’d never been happier in his life.

  Her lips tickled against his chest as she whispered, “That was the most wonderful gift I’ve ever been given.”

  His pulse spiked. She wasn’t talking about the earbobs.

  No. Now he’d never be
en happier.

  She rose up onto her elbow and stared down at him. “Filipe knows the truth about you.” Concern edged her voice. “I had to tell him about the riots and the Home Office, about you and the pardon.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Not when he and the men of the Armory had less than twenty-four hours to stop the slaughter Liggett had planned for the rioters. Exposing his identity to the King of Saffron Hill meant nothing in comparison.

  “It does matter,” she corrected. “We might still need his help.”

  We. Not you. Most likely nothing more than a slip of her tongue, but he couldn’t allow her to continue thinking she would still be involved with stopping the riots. Her role in this was over. He wouldn’t place her in danger again.

  “The investigation is moving in a different direction now,” he dodged and reached up to loop a ginger curl behind her ear.

  She stilled, then replied knowingly, “One that doesn’t involve women in ball gowns, you mean.”

  Or one wielding swords. “Yes.”

  “So it’s all over, then.”

  The finality of her whisper was cutting, but he didn’t regret his decision. If anything happened to her…dear God, it would end him. “You’ll receive your pardon. Clayton will make certain of it.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “You should. A pardon gives you the chance to start over, free and innocent.” He paused, coming as close as he dared to declaring his feelings when he murmured, “To permanently make London your home.”

  Her face fell as if he’d struck her. Good Lord, what had he said wrong? He reached to caress her cheek—

  She edged away. “No, I—” When he frowned, she explained, “London can’t be my home now.”

  Now…after they’d made love, or after he’d placed her life in danger? Either answer would devastate him. “Why not?”

  “I’ve been cast out of the Court of Miracles,” she confessed with a touch of shame. “Filipe ordered me to go. That’s why I came here tonight. I’m leaving London.” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to say goodbye.”