A Dangerous Man (24 page)

"We shall have to see about that"

He laughed again, his smile soft and tender. Never had he
looked so handsome, his hair unruly from his hands sliding
through it, his clothing wrinkled, his shirt stained with her
tears. The words she longed to say burned her throat.

"I did not set out to deceive you," she said instead. "I have
simply kept my own counsel for so long, it never occurred to
me to mention my visits to the foundling home. I just assumed you would not care"

"I care," he said vehemently. "I care about your safety."

But he did not love her.

It does not matter, she told herself as she pressed her lips
to his neck, as he groaned and covered her mouth with his,
hot tongue sliding between her teeth, as he shifted her in his
arms and carried her to bed, as she shuddered in his embrace,
first with unbearable need, then with unbearable pleasure, she
told herself it did not matter. He was her husband, and he was
all that was kind and caring. Perfectly polite. Exquisitely civil.
Honorable to his core. It should be enough.

But the empty ache in her chest gave truth to the lies she
told herself. As much as she chided her foolish notions, she
wanted him to love her as she loved him. But she could no
longer think. He was doing such wondrous things to her body.
Hands sliding over her skin and between her legs, lips trailing fire over her breasts, drawing moans and whimpers from
her throat.

She clung to his hips, legs wrapped round his waist, pulling
him closer, holding him tighter, until his release sent his seed
deep inside her womb, until she crushed her fist against her
mouth to keep the words locked behind her teeth. I love you.

"Do it again," Alison said, her giggles echoing through the
cavernous hall, the sound sweeter to Leah's ears than Handel's
sonatas, especially when joined by Richard's rumbling laugh.

The scandalous wink he sent Leah brought a flush to her
cheeks, but Alison didn't seem to notice. She was too busy
hopping from one foot to the other while pulling on their
hands until finally they swung their arms and her feet left the
floor.

Alison let out a raucous shriek. Unfortunately, her joyous
shout lured Rachel from the gold salon. Blue eyes narrowed,
lips pursed, she glared at Leah. Even her palpable dislike,
which seemed to grow more intense with each new day, could
not ruin the contentment Leah felt from her afternoons spent
with Richard and Alison, their routine these two weeks past.

He spent every morning out of the house or sequestered
in his office while Leah divided her time between Alison, the
foundling home, as well as other charitable foundations seeking her support, and the running of her household.

Promptly at two, Richard would arrive from wherever he
was to escort Leah and Alison on an outing about Town. Each
day brought some new destination, Hyde Park, the Tower,
Vauxhall Gardens. They laughed and ate and grew so close,
Leah thought her heart would burst with the love she felt for
this man and this child. Only one event could complete her
current happiness.

To hear some word from her sister, to know with certainty
that Catherine and her child were safe.

How strange it felt to discuss, openly and without fear of
her father's recrimination, all that had happened in her past.
Her sister's downfall. Her mother's demise. The hopes and
dreams she'd had as a child.

Slowly, Richard began sharing his life, too, though most of
his past remained a secret, locked away. His eldest brother's
death had hurt him deeply, as did Geoffrey's continued absence from Town. Railing against "Geoffrey's lack of consideration for his family's piece of mind," Richard vowed to strip
the skin from his backside when the wastrel bothered to
return. But behind his words lurked a deeper fear, something darker Leah could not name, but she heard it in his voice, saw
it in the hard set of his jaw and the shadows darkening his
eyes.

He swung Alison into his arms. "What say you, precious,
tomorrow we shall explore the Menagerie, but now it is time
for bed. Shall I tell you a story before tucking you in?"

"I do not want to sleep," Alison said, tapping her fingers
against Richard's cheeks, a tragic pout on her lips. "I want to
go with you and Aunt Leah."

Rachel ran her fingers along Alison's arm, her fingertips
brushing against Richard's hand. "There, there, dear. Do not
fret. Mama will accompany you and Uncle to your rooms"

The maternal tenderness in her voice was so incongruous
to her usual distance, Leah frowned. Not that she thought
Rachel a terrible mother. Just that Leah had never, before this
moment, witnessed anything remotely resembling affection.

More a dignified tolerance of her offspring. A cold conviction that children belonged in the nursery, tucked away with
the servants and other sundry items one might need for the
future, but did not necessarily want in the present.

Alison shook her head. A strand of black hair caught on her
eyelashes. "I want Auntie Leah. Her stories are funny."

"Funnier than mine?" Richard's brows lifted in mock
horror. "I shall have to punish you for that precious piece of
betrayal"

He tickled her waist. Alison shrieked until her giggles
made him close his eyes, made his head lean back, made a
spasm of emotion cross over his features that Leah could not
identify.

The dark look Rachel threw at Leah was clear. Alison was
Rachel's daughter and Leah best not interfere.

She was right, of course. As much as Leah enjoyed the
moments spent with Richard as he lulled Alison off to sleep, she
could not come between Rachel and her child.

"I shall tell you a story in the morning." She kissed Alison's cheek, then excused herself and returned to her rooms, where
a steaming bath awaited her. Her maid helped her from her
clothes and into the slipper bath. Oil of roses scented the water
and soothed her to the brink of sleep.

She thought of Tommy, of the rapid rate with which he had
returned from sickly child to boisterous boy. It was astounding, as was Richard's generosity. Not only had he accompanied her to the foundling home several times, he had even
conducted a thorough evaluation of the building and made financial arrangements for its repairs and improvements.

Only a single dark cloud hung over Leah's happiness:
Rachel's continued animosity, underscored by the neverending social obligations the balls, the routs, the dinnersLeah hated them all. But it was a necessary part of Richard's
life, so she kept her own counsel.

With a sigh, she climbed from the tub, donned a simple
muslin frock trimmed with delicate lace, then sat at her dressing table to brush her hair. She leaned forward to inspect the
scar across her temple, now faded to a thin, white line.

In time, she hoped it would vanish completely. Just as she
hoped to banish the demons haunting Richard's past so he
would be free to love again, free to love her.

Leah thought she was making progress in that regard. Yet,
sometimes, she would catch him watching her, a dark, brooding stare that sent shivers of fear and doubt coursing over her
skin.

And he was not sleeping at all well. She lost count of how
many nights he had awakened, drenched in sweat. Haunted
eyes seeking hers through the darkness.

Nightmares, he said, as he dragged her against his chest.
But the desperation with which he clung to her, his heart
thundering beneath her ear, told her it was something more.

Still, she refused to give in to her insecurities, not when the
future before her suddenly seemed so bright. Richard's unwavering support and understanding had given her the strength to face her past, to come to terms not only with her father's
betrayal, but her sister's disappearance as well.

While she still ached to find her sister, she no longer felt
the fear that had burdened her for so long, the hidden shame
that somehow she was to blame for her sister's fate. Richard
was right. She was just a child. There was nothing she could
have done.

The connecting door snapped open. The object of her
thoughts strode into the room and stood behind her chair. He
looked sinfully handsome in his evening dress, crisp white
shirt and linen neck cloth the only relief from his black coat
and matching trousers. The beguiling scent of jasmine and
another scent, decidedly male and uniquely his, washed over
her as he met her gaze in the looking glass.

His smile was soft and seductive and stirred the desire she
felt for this man. She would be afraid of the power he held
over her, if not for her confidence that he felt the same need,
the same hungry desire that brought his hands to her neck,
fingertips gliding over her sensitive skin. "Why aren't you
dressed? We are due at the Elliots in less than an hour."

"I am not going," she said, wishing just once she could
remain aloof, coldly detached, the prim and proper aristocratic wife she'd heard so much about from Rachel, a woman
of breeding who did not melt from one heated touch, one
whispered word.

"Why not?" His teeth grazed her ear.

Her lips pressed tightly together to stifle her moan. She
shrugged and closed her eyes.

He came around the chair and knelt at her feet, his large
hands resting suggestively on the outer curves of her thighs.
"Answer me"

How could she describe the torture of mixing with his so"
called friends? "I am tired, that is all."

He jumped to his feet. "I will send for the doctor."

I am not ill," she said, grabbing his hand.

He crouched on his heels. "Then what is it?"

She gazed at his beloved face, his brows drawn together
in a tight line, his dark eyes narrowed and intent upon her
face. She couldn't tell him everything, but she didn't want
him to worry, so she settled on a half-truth.

"We have had engagements six of the past ten nights," she
said. "And these affairs last until dawn. I am still not used to
this life you lead. I suppose I'm rather a dull sort, but I would
much prefer to stay home and read ... or something .. ."

His hands slipped beneath her frock, his fingers brushing
over her ankles. Her shiver brought a smile to his lips and a
dangerous glint to his eyes.

"Something?" he murmured. His deep voice seemed to slow
the movement of time, sent a languid heat over her cheeks, a
tingling heaviness to her breasts, a deep ache between her
thighs.

She was aware of the rise and fall of his chest, of his appealing scent and the heat of his fingers stroking the soft skin
behind her knees.

"Does that something have anything to do with me?"

This was seduction, this sweep of his hands as he dragged
her frock up past her knees, his fingers trailing a slow path over
her thighs. She sighed. "I'm afraid that it very much does"

His laugh trembled over the sensitive flesh of her inner
thighs where his lips touched her skin, his hands moving ever
upward, his mouth following the trail.

"You are so sweet, Leah. I can't get enough of you"

His fingers found her nether curls. With exquisite tenderness, he stroked her hot, swollen flesh. "I should very much
like to stay home with you, too"

She dropped her head back against the chair and shut her
eyes. One long finger slid inside her passage, stroked her and
teased her until she could no longer contain her moans.

He rubbed his thumb over a particularly sensitive spot be neath her curls that tightened and bloomed beneath his masterful touch. "But we must attend this evening . . "

Each slow circle sent a shattering ache through her belly
and breasts. She couldn't comprehend his words. She bit her
lips. Her breathing came in short, panting gasps.

A second finger joined the first. Stretching her. Filling her.
But she wanted more. She clutched his shoulders in her fists,
tried to drag him up the length of her body.

His throaty laugh matched her moan. "There is someone I
want you to meet" His hot breath burned over her sensitive
flesh as he gathered her chemise in his fist. He pushed it up
to her waist. "He writes that he will be there tonight."

"Richard. Please-" She was naked to his gaze. She tried
to clamp her legs together, but he wedged his shoulders between her knees.

"Hush," he commanded. "You are so beautiful..

He removed his fingers, then slowly dipped his head.

Leah gasped, "Richard! What are you doing?"

She closed her eyes, her breath trapped in her throat as his
mouth touched her most feminine flesh, as his tongue flicked
out to lick her and stroke her and taste her desire. She tossed
her head from side to side. It was so shocking, so bold.

It must be a sin because it felt so good. Each tug of his lips,
each stroke of his tongue, sent flashes of heat and pleasure
and need coursing over her skin, through her breasts and her
womb. She whimpered and moaned until she could stand it
no more. "Richard, I need to feel you inside of me"

He pushed to his knees, wrenched open his breeches. He
grabbed her hips, dragged her bottom to the edge of her
chair. The heat of his tongue as he captured her lips, the taste
of his breath, and his hot, hard length pumping inside her
sent wave after wave of unbearable pleasure rushing through
her. Tension spiraled like a vortex in her belly, spinning ever
tighter and tauter, drawing her deeper and down, until her
world shattered.

She clung to his shoulders, clenched her teeth against the
words she longed to say, though it was growing harder to contain them with each passing day. The love she felt for this man
consumed her. The future stretched out before her, and it
filled her with inexplicable fear.

"Do you see him?"

"No." Richard scanned the lords and ladies, huddled together in the Elliots' ballroom, their indistinguishable faces
blurring beneath the blazing chandeliers. Too many people
crammed into too small a space left the room airless and hot.
The sound of swishing satins and silks and voices all talking
at once only added to the stifling atmosphere. "Perhaps he has
yet to arrive. Shall we have another dance, my dear?"