by Clee, Adele
His chest grew warm, a swirling heat that infused his whole being. It had nothing to do with the words spoken, everything to do with this angel of deliverance who knelt on the dusty boards, repenting on his behalf. The angel who had faced the devil in a coaching inn because she wished to rescue him from a living hell.
Dante pushed a lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. “I didn’t thank you for what you did tonight. This may sound strange, but I don’t think I have ever felt so proud.”
“Proud?”
“You faced your fears, though I know it came at a price.” Sore hands, eyes rimmed red from shed tears, nightmares that would plague every restful hour until dawn.
Beatrice glanced at the bed as if it were the rack or some other implement of torture. “I doubt I shall sleep tonight. No matter how hard I try, I shall see my uncle’s smug face, not a field full of sunflowers.”
“Would you like me to stay with you? I can sleep in this chair.”
He’d offered because she did not deserve to suffer, because he hoped he would dream about something pleasant when in her company, and because he had a desire to watch her sleep.
“No one need know,” he added.
She glanced at the door. “Mr Ashwood would know.”
“Yes, Ashwood would know.” But he’d not say a damn thing.
“I cannot ask you to sleep in a chair, Dante.”
“You didn’t ask, I offered.”
“I’m not sure I would settle, knowing you’re a few feet away, cold and uncomfortable.”
Tired of skirting around their mutual need for affection, he took a huge risk and said, “Then let me climb into bed with you. Give you something pleasurable to think about. Touch you until you’re sated, so exhausted you’ll struggle to stay awake.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath came a little quicker. “Sleep with me?” She jumped to the obvious conclusion. “Dante, I do not want to have a child out of wedlock.”
“And I do not want to give you a child out of wedlock.” Though for some reason unbeknown he wished to empty himself inside her. “There are ways to enjoy each other and keep your virtue intact. Ways to banish the demons tonight.”
She swallowed. “What about your statement?”
“We can discuss it later.” He sensed her nerves. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Speak from the heart. Make no allowances for my feelings. Beatrice, put your own needs before mine.”
She smiled. “I don’t know how to do that.”
Dante gripped her elbow, guided her to stand. Then he dropped to his knees before her. “I should be the one crawling on the floor, the one worshipping at your feet, for you are without doubt an angel here on earth. You deserve better than to have a rake proposition you in the grubby bedchamber of a coaching inn.”
“Not so grubby. I checked the bed, and it’s clean.” She took hold of his arms and forced him to stand. “I cannot afford to lose my position with the Order. As much as I like Alice, I cannot go back to living above a tavern.”
Rejection hit him hard. More so because he had never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. But he’d asked for the truth and had the utmost respect for her decision.
“I understand.”
She placed her hand on his chest to soften the blow. “I cannot afford to lose my freedom, but I would risk everything to feel your lips on mine again.”
Every nerve in his body sparked to life. “You would?”
“I won’t pretend to know what exists between us, Dante. Maybe it’s lust and it will fizzle away to nothing. Maybe we’re just two people seeking comfort, respite from our nightmares. I ache for your touch, but need some reassurance before we proceed.”
“Love, I’ll not take your virtue.”
“Not even if I ask you to?”
The question caught him off guard.
She laughed. “Dante, I value your friendship, but fear things will be different if we indulge our passions.”
“Beatrice, we kissed like rampant lovers, and it only strengthened our bond. But I’m reckless and rash and rarely think about tomorrow.” Yet he knew one thing with striking clarity. “Despite that, I need you in my life, more than I’ve needed anyone, and so a night spent banishing our ghosts will have no bearing on our friendship.”
“You mean that?” she breathed, pushing her hand up over his chest.
“I give you my word.”
“Then kiss me, Dante. Kiss me, so we might forget our troubles.”
Chapter 13
God moved in mysterious ways. Or that was the sentiment Cowper used in the opening line of his poem. It came as no surprise that Beatrice recalled the title—Light Shining out of Darkness—for the first touch of Dante’s lips was like an epiphany. Somehow, amid the trauma and strife, she had fallen in love with the damaged agent of the Order.
She should have fought against the powerful emotion, told him they should not complicate matters, expressed the importance of solving the case, been sensible. Professional.
But every part of her longed to join him in bed.
I’m reckless and rash and rarely think about tomorrow.
She didn’t want to think of anything beyond this quaint room, either. Couldn’t think about anything but the heat coiling low in her belly, the potent taste of brandy on his lips, the arousing scent of his bergamot cologne.
Dante D’Angelo seemed to be everywhere at once, devouring her mouth, stroking her back, squeezing her buttocks. The skilled sweep of his tongue sent her pulse soaring. Every masterful movement spoke of his impatience to reach the point where pleasure obliterated pain.
“Slow down, Dante,” she panted, tearing her lips from his. She wanted this to be more than an opportunity for him to banish his demons. “We have all night unless you’re worried what Mr Ashwood will say.”
“I’m not worried about Ashwood.” He sucked her lobe, nuzzled the sensitive spot below her ear. “But I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime to kiss you again.”
Merciful Lord!
His teeth grazed the delicate skin, sending ripples to her core.
She could have given herself over to him, let him ravage her senseless, seduce her to the point of madness. Evidently, this man knew everything about sex, nothing about love.
But oh, how she wanted to love him tonight.
“Wait, Dante.” She hadn’t a clue how to please him, but this burning need inside gave her the courage to continue. “Let me kiss you, touch you, find my way around your body, set the pace.”
He pulled back, considered her through eyes heavy with desire. “No doubt, my eagerness is overwhelming. But my intention is to pleasure you, make you come so many times you’ll sleep like a babe.”
“And I want to please you.” She wanted him to sleep peacefully, too, not be ravaged by his nightmares. “Let me try.”
He captured her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Do what you want with me, Beatrice. I am yours to command.”
“You’re happy for me to take control?”
“If that is your desire.”
Nerves threatened to ruin the minor victory, but she pushed them aside, decided the best way forward was to confront her fears.
“Perhaps I should undress first,” she said. “Perhaps I should—”
“You’re thinking like an agent.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “We’re not looking for a logical way to perform a task. I should be tripping over my breeches in a passion-fuelled frenzy.”
“We’re not supposed to be plotting and planning?”
“No.” His grin faded. “Beatrice, be honest with me. Do you want me to return to my room? We can explore our growing attraction some other time when we’ve—”
“No! No, I want to continue. It’s … it’s just …”
“Tell me.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I haven’t a clue what to do, Dante. You’re used to women skilled in the art of seduction, whereas I’m skilled in deduction.” She threw her hands up. “And now
look at us. We’re trying to solve a problem instead of enjoying the moment.”
He slipped his arm around her waist, his hand dipping down to cup her buttocks. “I don’t remember ever wanting a woman the way I want you. I have no memory of anyone else but shall remember the sweet taste of your lips until I draw my last breath.”
Emotion bubbled to her throat. She would never forget how the strokes of his tongue set her body ablaze. Never forget the way the amber flecks in his dark eyes glowed with pleasure.
“You can be quite charming when the need arises.” He could be rugged and masterful, too, and she loved the combination.
“Beneath the hard, bitter exterior, you’ll find the inside is softer and not at all displeasing.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “We stood in the street, and you seduced me with confectionery. You came to my house and seduced me with rotten brandy and a fine lawn shirt that left little to the imagination. So you see, you’re as skilled in seduction as you are most things. Indeed, I was utterly seduced the moment we met.”
As if his words weren’t enough to arouse her, he rubbed his hand back and forth, cupping and lifting her buttocks. Her sex pulsed in response. Her breath came quick and hot, expelling in little pants.
Their gazes remained locked.
The power of his magnetic pull held her spellbound.
“Don’t go, Dante. Stay with me tonight.”
Take all of me. Leave no part untouched.
Their lips met. This time they kissed slowly, deeply, a lazy, languorous exploration that tightened the muscles in her abdomen, left her sex aching.
“Feel what you do to me,” he breathed, taking her hand and guiding it over the solid length bulging in his breeches. “That’s the power you wield. I’ve never been so hard.”
Fascinated, she couldn’t help but caress him. “You’re so large it’s impossible to think we might—”
“We’ll fit, love. But I’m not taking your virtue.”
Disappointment flared. She wanted to give everything of herself, wanted to fuse their bodies, crawl beneath his skin, ease her obsession.
“Then pleasure me as only you know how.”
His mischievous grin said he welcomed the challenge. “Would you like to see how hard I am, Beatrice? Would you like to touch the impudent devil desperate for the stroke of your hand?”
He was tugging off his boots before she found her voice. “Very much so.”
She watched him undress, gloried in the way the flickering firelight danced over the muscular contours of his chest. Her heart sank the second she noticed the scar. But he unbuttoned the waistband of his breeches, tugged them down over his hips, sending all morbid thoughts scattering like petals in the wind.
Dante D’Angelo might be damaged inside, but he was a perfect specimen of masculinity. Strong. Formidable. Confident in his own skin. So aroused, she couldn’t help but stare.
“You’re like a statue in a museum, though rather more endowed.” Inadequacy reared its head, for she was hardly Venus. Her calves were too thin, her belly too rounded, her left breast a little bigger than the right.
“Tell me what you like best,” he teased, palming his erection.
“All of you.”
She liked the arrogant seducer and the tortured hero, the bold warrior and the frightened child. She wanted to embrace them all. Never let go.
“Would you like to see my body, Dante?” she said, despite being choked with fear. The need to press her skin to his meant she had to overcome her insecurities. And Alice said men were blind to imperfections when faced with a confident woman.
“See it? Love, I wish to devour every inch.”
Heat pooled between her legs, but she set to work on the ugly brown dress she’d worn for protection. Braced herself because she knew his eyes would widen in surprise when her petticoat hit the floor.
He did jerk back in shock. His eyes did protrude.
“You strapped your breasts? Strapped them over your chemise? I knew they looked different and assumed it was that dreadful dress.”
She shrugged but experienced the aching throat that always preceded the onset of tears. “Not tightly, just enough so as not to draw my uncle’s eye. The bindings irritate my skin.”
His expression was unreadable, but he closed the gap between them and drew her into an embrace. “Forgive me. Forgive me for asking you to do something so distressing.”
“It was necessary. And I couldn’t run forever.”
“Let us pray this is all over soon.” He stroked her hair, unaware her anxiety amounted to more than dreadful memories.
The future was her primary concern. After the visit with her uncle, she’d come to realise she would always live in fear. But she would rather suffer these traumas, take comfort in this gentleman’s embrace, than solve the case and part ways.
Overcome by a sudden desire to live for the moment, she looked up at the man who had stolen her heart. “Alice said there are ways to make love without the risk of a child.”
He cupped her cheeks. “There’s always a risk, love, but I imagine she’s talking about sponges soaked in brandy or a gentleman withdrawing.”
In a move bolder than anything she had done before, Beatrice reached down and stroked his manhood. “Make love to me, Dante.”
He didn’t make love, she knew, but she had enough love for both of them.
“I’m not asking for a commitment.” She continued to fondle him. “But I need you to chase away the cold tonight.”
Dante looked conflicted. “One day you’ll marry and will want to give your husband—” His head fell back. “Hell, love, that’s so good.”
“Life is precarious. We both know that. I want you, Dante. Here. Now.”
It took less than a heartbeat for him to surrender.
His mouth came crashing down on hers with an urgency that stole her breath. The ties of self-restraint snapped, leaving them both consumed by a form of carnal madness. So much for slowing down. Their tongues filled each other’s mouths, but still, they could not get enough.
“Quickly, unbind me.”
Dante set to work on the strappings, unravelling her like an eagerly awaited gift, throwing the material to the dusty boards. He pressed her back against the bedpost, dropped to his knees, raised her chemise to her waist and rained kisses over her thighs.
“Let me worship you, love, like you deserve.”
“Yes,” she breathed, not really understanding what he meant.
With him distracted, and before she lost her mind completely, she dragged her chemise over her head and discarded it to join the rest of their clothes.
But he’d parted her sex, slipped his tongue between the folds.
Merciful Mary!
“Dante,” she managed to say before he hooked her leg over his shoulder.
She pushed her hands into his hair, held onto him as he continued to devour her intimate place. Like a wicked wanton, she couldn’t help but jerk her hips in response. The tension built, an urgency pulsing in her core. He’d once said he could read her like a book. He was right. Somehow he knew exactly when to slip his fingers inside her, knew she would splinter into a hundred pieces, knew her inner muscles would clench around him as she gasped, shuddered and called his name.
The devil looked smug as he met her gaze.
Slowly, he pushed to his feet. But not before kissing the softness of her belly, sucking her nipples, licking the mole on her breast.
“How was that, love?”
She couldn’t find the words.
“That good, eh?” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Come to bed.”
She gulped. “I’ll need instruction.”
“No, you won’t.” He offered his hand. “You know how to please me.”
Emboldened, she entwined her fingers with his, went with him. She would follow him anywhere.
He threw back the counterpane and sheets. “Are you sure you want to feel the weight of me pressing you into the mattress? Once
we start, I imagine we’ll both struggle for breath.”
A vision of her uncle flashed into her mind, but it left as quickly as it came.
“I’m not afraid of you, Dante.” She ran her hands over his chest, relishing the hardness beneath her fingers. She pushed up on tiptoes, kissed his neck, inhaled the uniquely masculine scent that was as calming as it was arousing.
“You’ll tell me if you want to stop?”
“I will,” she whispered against his bronzed skin.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
She sensed his confidence falter and so kissed him hotly on the mouth.
His arm snaked around her waist. His hand dipped to grip one buttock. And they were lost again. Gasping, moaning, tongues tangling, writhing in each other’s arms. One minute they were standing, the thick length of his arousal pressing against her abdomen. The next they were in bed, the swollen head of his shaft at her entrance.
He laughed lightly. “I’ve not done this before.”
“Neither have I.”
Heavens! She would never forget the look on his face when he eased into her body. It went beyond the lustful glint in his eyes, beyond the rakish grin of satisfaction. He wanted her. Her. Not just her body. She could see it clearly. He was the book, and she could read this particular page.
“Wrap your legs around me, love.”
She did, the movement drawing him deeper inside her. When he withdrew, she felt bereft. But he knew how to read her, too, knew she liked feeling full, liked the way he edged deeper each time.
“One long thrust, and you’re mine,” he panted. “There’ll be no going back.”
She didn’t want to go back, only forwards with him.
“Do it now, Dante.”
“I imagine it will be easier if I kiss you, if I distract you momentarily, but for some reason, I want to watch you when you take me to the hilt.”
“Watch me, then.” It was the least she could do after the pleasure he’d given her, and she wanted to watch him, too.
He fixed her with his heated gaze as he withdrew, pinned her to the bed as he thrust so hard she took all of him, every delicious inch.
