Confessions at Midnight (16 page)

The instant she arched beneath him, it felt as if lightning struck him, sizzling and exploding through his entire body. Shudders racked him as he drove hard and deep, pounding into her, spilling what felt like his entire soul into her pulsing heat. Tremors still shook him when his head fell limply into the warm curve of her neck and he fought to catch his breath. He wasn't certain how long it took him to find the strength to lift his head. A minute, or perhaps an hour, he didn't know. Couldn't consider anything beyond absorbing the incredible feeling of remaining buried deep inside her snug heat. And another sensation he couldn't name other than to know it felt as if he'd been punched. In the heart.

Finally he lifted his head to look down at her. And froze.

She lay beneath him, staring up at seemingly nothing, tears running from the corners of her eyes.

Guilt smacked him like a brick to the head. Bloody hell, he'd done it again. Completely lost all control. Only this time he'd-

"Carolyn… God, did I hurt you?" He made to move off her, but her arms and legs tightened around him, holding him in place.

She shook her head. "No."

Unconvinced, he gently brushed away the moisture beneath her eyes, but it was instantly replaced by a fresh supply. "Why are you crying?"

Instead of answering, she said, "Thank you."

"Thank you? For making you cry?" Damn it, he felt like a first-class cad.

She nodded. "Yes. I… I never thought I would make love again. Never thought I would want to. You made it… extraordinary. And for that, I thank you."

Relief nearly overwhelmed him, and everything inside him seemed to shift. "Extraordinary," he repeated softly, his gaze roaming her face. "That describes it-and you-perfectly." Indeed he couldn't recall ever speaking truer words. Because making love with Carolyn was… different. He'd surrendered a part of himself, of his control, to their lovemaking that he'd never given up before. A part of himself he hadn't even known existed until it was no longer his.

In the past, after his passion was spent, he was never eager to linger. But with Carolyn, he felt as if he could stay on this couch, buried inside her the entire day. And just look at her. Brush back her shiny hair from her face. He felt a bond with her that he'd never before experienced. An unfamiliar warmth of… something that confused him. But that nonetheless couldn't be denied.

Bloody hell, how was it that this one time with Carolyn had reduced every other sexual encounter he'd ever experienced into an emotionless physical act? A sordid imitation of what it was supposed to be? How was it possible that out of all the affairs he'd engaged in, he'd missed out on
this
… whatever it was?

"Daniel?"

He blinked away his thoughts and refocused his attention on her. "Yes?"

Her bottom lip trembled. "You've brought me back to life."

His heart seemed to perform a somersault. He searched for his normal lighthearted postcoital persona and came up empty. "Which is precisely what is supposed to happen to Galatea," he said in as breezy a tone as he could muster. "The pleasure was all mine."

"No, it wasn't." She stretched beneath him and flashed a smile. "I feel absolutely marvelous. But I'm famished. Might your plans for us this afternoon include something to eat?"

"As a matter of fact they do. Now that you've had your wicked way with me, shall we get dressed and commence with
my
plans?"

"All right, although I'm rather disappointed that your plans require us to get dressed."

"You won't be when you see where we're going and what I've planned. But about that getting dressed bit?"

"Yes?"

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. "Don't bother to wear drawers beneath your gown."

D
ear lord, she wasn't wearing drawers.

Carolyn tried to concentrate on the bustling scenery as Daniel's elegant carriage traveled down Park Lane, but all she could think about was that she sat across from her lover and lacked undergarments. She stared at the people strolling through Hyde Park, yet saw none of them. Instead, she visualized closing the carriage's maroon velvet curtains, ensconcing them in privacy, then begging him to put out the relentless fire he'd lit within her.

What on earth was happening to her? She'd enjoyed a deeply passionate relationship with Edward, yet at the moment those memories seemed almost lukewarm when compared to this craving she felt for Daniel, which bordered on…
ravenous
.

"I have some news for you."

His voice yanked her from her erotic brown study and she turned to look at him. Rather than regarding at her with his usual teasing warmth, his dark blue gaze was serious.

"What sort of news?" she asked, forcing aside her lascivious thoughts.

"Gideon Mayne called upon me earlier today. He and Rayburn located Tolliver last night at his town house. The earl reeked of liquor and was passed out in his study. He was holding a pistol. They took him into custody."

"Thank goodness." Carolyn pressed a hand against her midriff. "He really did try to shoot you." A mixture of fear and nausea roiled through her at the thought of Lord Tolliver succeeding.

"Yes. And he nearly killed you instead."

She recalled the sensation of the bullet whizzing by her and shuddered. "Has he confessed?"

"No. He's insisting he's innocent. Says he never left his house last evening. Claims the pistol was meant for himself, to take his own life." A muscle ticked in Daniel's jaw. "According to Mayne, none of Tolliver's servants saw him leave the house, but as they all retired around eleven, neither can they verify that he didn't depart after that."

"It's hardly surprising that someone as unethical as Lord Tolliver has shown himself to be would lie about shooting at you," Carolyn said.

"I agree. I'll still keep my guard up, but I think it's clear we've got our man. I'd meant to tell you as soon as I saw you, but…" His eyes darkened. "… you distracted me."

She hoisted a teasing brow. "Hmmm. That sounds distinctly like a complaint."

He leaned forward and lightly clasped one of her gloved hands. Warmth skittered up her arm. "My only compliant is that we're not so occupied right now." He brushed his fingertips against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, just above the edge of her glove. "You are… amazing."

"A word I could just as easily use to describe you, my lord."

He made a
tsking
sound. "Surely you haven't already forgotten that such formality is no longer necessary." As if to prove his point, he slipped one long finger beneath the edge of her glove to slowly stroke her palm.

She sucked a quick breath at the intimacy of the gesture and shook her head. "I haven't forgotten," she said in a shaky whisper. Dear God, if she lived to be one hundred she'd never forget what they'd shared.

"Of course if you
had
forgotten," he continued, his heated gaze locked on hers, "I suppose I'd have to remind you." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "A heinous task, but I'd endeavor to take it like a man."

Determined not to allow him the upper hand, she leaned forward and set her free hand on his knee. "I assure you I'm in no danger of forgetting, Daniel." She glided her hand slowly up his leg. "However, I would welcome you reminding me. Any time you'd care to do so. And as for taking it like a man…" She brushed her fingers over the bulge in his breeches, enjoying his quick intake of breath."… I greatly anticipate discovering exactly how much you can take."

His eyes seemed to breathe smoke. "Just as I anticipate discovering the same thing about you."

"How nice that we are in agreement."

"I believe that 'nice' is a rather tepid word to describe anything that will transpire between us, my lady, but I suppose it will do. For now."

"'My lady?'" She copied his earlier
tsking
sound and repeated his words. "Surely you haven't already forgotten that such formality is no longer necessary."

"I haven't forgotten. Indeed, should I live into the next century I'll never forget what we've shared."

His words so closely mirrored her earlier thoughts she ridiculously wondered if perhaps he could read minds.

"In your sitting room, you said you had a confession to make," he said, his finger continuing to lightly stroke beneath her glove with a leisurely, drugging rhythm, "but you never told me what it was. I would have asked you at the time, but I was, um, distracted."

She skimmed her hand along the inside of his thigh. "I stole your breeches."

His muscles contracted beneath her touch and he shot a pointed look at her hand on his leg. "Clearly you haven't. Unfortunately."

She laughed. "Not these breeches. And not today. It was during Matthew's house party. The ladies devised a scavenger hunt of sorts. My mission was to procure a pair of your breeches. I entered your bedchamber when I knew you wouldn't be about and just like that…" She lifted her hand from his leg to snap her fingers. "… I made off with your breeches."

He grabbed her hand and settled it right back on his leg. "Fascinating. If I'd suspected you were going to skulk about in my bedchamber, I never would have left."

She lifted her chin. "I wasn't skulking. I was…" Her voice trailed off as she searched for a less incriminating word.

"Lurking?" he suggested. "Prowling?"

She hiked her chin higher. "I was merely doing my duty to the game."

"I see. I didn't notice I was missing a pair of breeches."

"I returned them before the house party ended. So I didn't really steal them-I merely borrowed them."

"Ah. So you visited my bedchamber
twice
without my knowledge during the house party."

"Yes."

"And what did you do with my breeches once you'd borrowed them?"

Feeling outrageously daring, she decided to be absolutely honest with him. "I brought them to my bedchamber. I held them against me and thought of you. Of how you looked wearing them. And imagined how you would look without them." Heat suffused her at her admission, a truth she'd stubbornly refused to acknowledge at the time.

Unmistakable interest flared in his eyes and he slid his finger from her glove. Leaning down, he grasped her ankle and lifted her foot onto his lap. After removing her shoe, he massaged her stockinged foot, eliciting a low groan of delight from her.

"Have I mentioned that I adore having my feet rubbed?" she asked as all her muscles turned to the consistency of porridge.

"You didn't say so, but it was fairly easy to ascertain." His fingers performed some form of magic on her instep and she moaned. His wicked grin flashed. "The moaning and groaning is a bit of a giveaway."

"I imagine,
oooohhh myyyyy
… that it is."

"Tell me, how did you imagine I would look without my breeches, Carolyn?"

A long purr vibrated in her throat and she regarded him through eyes drooped half closed with the pleasure radiating upward from her foot. "Wonderful. But the reality proved even better than my imagination, which was quite fertile, I assure you."

His expression turned grave. "I must admit your confession disappoints me."

A fissure of embarrassment shivered through her. "I know it was wrong of me to do, but-"

"I'm not disappointed at what you did but rather at your timing. I wish I'd been present when you came into my bedchamber. Twice."

God help her, but part of her had wanted him to be there as well-something she hadn't been able to admit to herself at the time. "What would you have done if you had been present?" she asked in a breathless voice.

Fire ignited in his gaze, but before he could reply, the carriage jerked to a halt. He glanced out the window. "As we've arrived, I'll have to tell you later," he said, slipping her shoe back on then gently setting her foot on the floor. "Or better yet, I'll show you."

She barely resisted the urge to demand that they return home at once so he could show her
now
. Instead she adopted a sedate manner completely at odds with the inferno burning within her and looked out the window. And realized where they were.

"Gunter's?" she said, staring at the sign marking London's most famous confectioner's shop at number seven Berkeley Square. A smile curved her lips. "I adore Gunter's!"

He smiled in return. "As do I. It's my favorite London shop."

"Even more so than your tailor?" she teased. "You do have a reputation for being meticulous about your clothing."

"Gunter's is my favorite shop, bar none," he said, his voice perfectly serious. "It appears I have a weakness for fruit flavored ices." His gaze skimmed over her. "Among other things."

How she could still blush after the intimacies they'd shared, she had no idea. To hide the heat suffusing her cheeks, she picked up her reticule in preparation for exiting the carriage. "Edward and I used to…" Her voice trailed off awkwardly and she looked at the ground. Surely she shouldn't be speaking of Edward to her lover. Doing so smacked of disloyalty, to both Edward and Daniel. And reminded her of her lingering feelings of guilt at taking a lover-feelings she'd prefer to ignore.

She cleared her throat and finished, "We frequented Gunter's whenever we visited London."

"Carolyn."

He said her name so softly, so kindly, a lump lodged in her throat. When she looked up, she noted his eyes held the same kindness as his tone. "I don't begrudge you your memories of Edward, nor do I want you to feel that you cannot talk about him with me." He hesitated then added, "I knew you'd come here with Edward at least once, as I saw you."

She couldn't hide her surprise. "You did? When?"

"About five years ago. I was across the street and saw you and Edward leaving Gunter's. You were both smiling. You looked very happy."

"Is that why you brought me here-because you knew I'd like it?"

"Partly. But also because in keeping with our conversation at the masquerade ball, the highwayman wanted to give Galatea something that reminded him of her."

"And that something is a fruit-flavored ice?"

"Yes."

"Because I'm so… tart and frosty cold?"

His gaze remained serious. "No. Because when I touch you with my tongue you melt."

Oh, my
. She recalled the delicious sensation of his tongue touching her, and her heart seemed to trip over itself. He did indeed make her melt. In a way that made her not only want to experience that magic again, but to also affect him the same way.

Before she could respond, he reached out and lightly squeezed her hand. "Would you prefer to go somewhere else?"

Good heavens, he could make her melt even without benefit of his tongue. Clearly all he had to do was look at her. Touch her hand. "No, Daniel. I'd prefer to go to Gunter's. It's been a very long time since I've enjoyed a flavored ice. I think it's time to make some new memories." She squeezed his hand in return. "With you."

What looked like relief flashed in his eyes. "I look forward to sharing those memories with you." Then one corner of his mouth curved upward in a sinful grin. "I'll do my utmost to see that you're not disappointed."

After helping her alight from the carriage, they entered the shop. The delectable scents of sweetmeats, pastries, and fresh baked biscuits assailed her.

"Is an ice your pleasure?" Daniel asked. "I see that they're featuring blueberry today. Or would you prefer something else?"

She offered Daniel a smile. "A blueberry ice sounds divine."

They sat a small round table in the corner of the shop and enjoyed their frozen treat. After spooning a small bit into her mouth, Carolyn confided in an undertone, "This is so delicious. I want you to know that it's requiring a great deal of self-control for me not to moan out loud with every taste."

Daniel's leg shifted beneath the table and his knee pressed against hers, shooting a spark up her leg. "I want you to know that it's requiring
all
of my self-control not to press you up against Gunter's counter and really give you something to moan about. Suffice it to say that I intend to hear those delightful sounds you make as soon as possible."

Heat whooshed through her with such force she was amazed she didn't burst into flames. And how did he manage to appear so calm and collected when she felt incinerated by the furious blush scorching her entire body?

She glanced around at the other patrons, relieved that none of them appeared to be paying any attention to them. "If you keep looking at me like that, people will suspect that we're…"

"Lovers?"

"Yes."

"And how am I looking at you?"

"Like you'd rather be licking me than your blueberry ice."

Not a hint of repentance gleamed in his eyes. "I
would
rather be licking you." After spooning up another bit of ice, he added, "I think you'd prefer that as well."

The degree to which she'd prefer that actually frightened her. "You're melting my blueberry ice," she warned with a breathless laugh.

"Good. The sooner it's gone, the sooner we can leave." He pressed his leg more firmly against hers. "And the sooner I can make you melt."

She spooned a bit of the delicious ice between her lips, reveling in the rapt manner his avid gaze devoured the movement. Something about the contrast of their outwardly polite demeanor and the sensual undercurrents throbbing between them excited her in a way she'd never before experienced.

After she swallowed, she said softly, "And the sooner I can make
you
melt."

He went perfectly still, his spoon suspended midway between his bowl and his mouth. He drew in a slow, deep breath, then carefully set his spoon back in his still half-full bowl. "Let's go."