Confessions at Midnight (21 page)

Watching in the mirror, while his hands cupped her breasts, Carolyn sank slowly down, dragging a long groan from both of them.

For several seconds neither moved. All she could do was stare into his eyes in the mirror and absorb the incredible sensation of him pressing deep inside her. Looking at him, and at herself. At them. Together. It was such a moving, stirring, beautiful, and deeply intimate sight her throat swelled.

She rested her hands on top of his where they cupped her breasts. And whispered, "Daniel."

A groan that sounded ripped from his throat echoed in her ears. "Carolyn. My God, Carolyn…" He rolled his hips and she moaned as he surged deeper inside her. She turned her head and their mouths met in a deep, lush, tongue-mating kiss. He stroked inside her with increasingly demanding upward thrusts, each one pushing her closer to a pinnacle of pleasure that remained just tantalizingly out of reach, building a ferocious need in her the likes of which she'd never before experienced.

Breaking off their kiss, with his gaze fastened on hers, he grazed the fingers of one large hand down her torso, over her abdomen and between her thighs. He tormented her exquisitely sensitive nub of flesh, his touch perfect and magical and relentless. Her climax didn't merely throb through her, it attacked her, bombarding her with an intense pleasure that had her crying out. Her fingers raked over his thighs and she drowned in the waves of her release as they washed over her. Her breaths were still coming in rapid puffs when Daniel's body stiffened behind her and through glazed vision she watched his release overtake him, his face taking on a utterly beautiful intensity as she felt his body throb and spill into hers.

"Carolyn."

Her name, sounding like a heartfelt prayer, whispered by her ear. Then he rested his forehead against her temple. His skin glistened in the firelight and his ragged breaths blew over her flushed skin.

She lifted one limp hand and skimmed her fingers through his mussed hair. "Daniel."

Their gazes met in the mirror. A surge of tenderness raced through her, so strong it shook her, and she trembled.

His arms tightened around her. "Carolyn, I-"

His words broke off and he swallowed. Twice. Something that looked like confusion ghosted over his features. Then his expression returned to its normal teasing warmth. "I think that will last me. For a few minutes."

"For a few minutes," she agreed.

"But the night has just begun."

Anticipation shivered through her and she latched onto the sensation. And firmly pushed aside the unexpected and unwanted tenderness that threatened to undo her. She knew very well where tenderness could lead, and that was a path she could not, would not, allow herself to travel down with this man. Tenderness had no place in their temporary affair. And so long as she remembered that, all would be well.

But as her gaze held his in the mirror, she very much feared that she stood in mortal danger of forgetting.

R
eclining on a blanket beneath the shade of a century-old willow, with skeins of afternoon sunshine dappling through the breeze ruffled leaves, Daniel closed his eyes and heaved a contented sigh. He'd never before considered what would comprise a perfect day, but today had met-nay, exceeded-any criteria he might have dreamed up.

Earlier, when the first mauve shades of dawn had streaked across the sky, indicating it was time to leave Carolyn's bed, he found it nearly impossible to do so. He didn't care for the thought of not seeing her for even several hours. And after spending such a perfect night with her, wrapped in the private cocoon of her bedchamber, where they'd been free to talk and laugh and make love, he craved more of the same.

Although he told himself he could spend the next night with her, he simply didn't want to wait that long. He wanted to spend the day with her. Talking. Laughing. Walking. Touching. And he wanted all that away from the prying eyes of London society.

He wanted her all to himself.

And so before leaving her bed, he'd invited her to spend the day with him at Meadow Hill, his country estate in Kent, a three hour journey from London. She'd accepted, and they left directly after breakfast with plans to return to London after dinner. And thus had begun the most perfect day he ever could have imagined.

Holding Carolyn as she slept during the carriage ride, snuggled against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, right over the spot where his heart beat. Arriving at Meadow Hill, where he'd given her a tour of the house, including his bedchamber, as it had been more than an interminable five hours since he'd made love to her. He'd never brought a woman to his country home before, had never considered doing so. But bringing Carolyn had been… right. The instant she stepped into the foyer, she'd filled his home with sunshine, chasing away darkness he hadn't even realized dwelled there. She'd taken the familiar-that which he'd lived with for years-and made everything seem bright and new again.

After arranging for a light picnic lunch, they'd made their way to the stables, where he introduced her to the rest of his rescued pets while their horses were saddled. His animals fell in love with her, and it was clear the feeling was mutual. Then they rode around the vast grounds, his favorite part of the estate. When he dismounted to pick her a bouquet of wildflowers, she'd thanked him by opening the front placard of his breeches, sinking to her knees, and proving that she could indeed melt him with her tongue. He'd proven the same to her, and he knew that for the rest of his life wildflowers would remind him of her. And this perfect day.

Afterward, they'd continued their ride. He hadn't intended to stop at the small lake on the property, but she caught a glimpse of the sparkling water through the trees and was enchanted. When she suggested they set up their picnic beneath the willow near the shore, he'd had to clamp his jaws together to keep from uttering a harsh no. He hated the water, and the lake was the last place he wanted to be. But seeing the eagerness in her eyes, he'd been unable to refuse her.

By sitting with his back to the water, he'd almost forgotten it was there, and was able to enjoy both the casual meal and her company. And now, full and sleepy, his spine settled against the willow's trunk and Carolyn's head resting in his lap, he lightly played with a tendril of her silky hair.

Bloody hell, the thought of this day ending filled him a sense of loss that confounded him. One that had him flailing in a quagmire of completely unfamiliar emotions-emotions he'd valiantly but unsuccessfully fought all day to keep at bay.

He kept hoping sanity would slap him, stop him from this seemingly unstoppable headlong plunge into the emotional abyss yawning before him. But it seemed he was helpless to halt his descent. Helpless to stop wanting her. Touching her. Simply being with her. And completely unprepared to know how to navigate such previously unchartered emotional waters.

He looked down and watched her study a tiny yellow flower she'd plucked from the grass. Such a simple act, yet one that utterly enchanted him. There was something so natural about her. She didn't possess the haughty demeanor of so many women of his class, no doubt because she wasn't born into the peerage. She was a viscountess now, yet in spite of her status, retained an air of easygoing charm that utterly captivated him. The look of wonder that entered her eyes at the sound of a wren's warble or the sight of a butterfly or a tiny yellow flower intoxicated him.

"You don't take things for granted." He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but when he did, Carolyn lifted her chin and gazed up at him.

She studied him through serious eyes for several seconds then nodded. "I try not to. I've been given more than I ever thought to possess. More than I deserve. But I've also lost a great deal. When the thing you love most in the world is snatched away from you…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned, then returned her gaze to the yellow flower.

She meant Edward, of course, the man she'd loved, and continued to love, so deeply. He was unprepared for the profound fissure of envy that ripped through him. How would it feel to be so adored? For someone to consider you that which they loved most in the world?

A frown bunched his brow. He'd never before wondered such a thing. He supposed it must feel good, although he had no way of knowing. Certainly no one had ever loved him that way.

"I do my best to appreciate what I still have," she said softly, "although it's been a difficult journey."

Her words made him realize how often he took his own privileged life and position for granted, and shame filled him. "You've inspired me to follow your example and be more appreciative," he said.

Her gaze flew to his and there was no missing the surprise in her eyes. "
You
are the inspiring one, Daniel. The way you've helped Samuel and Katie and those poor animals." She shot him a quizzical look then shook her head. "You don't have any idea how wonderful you are, do you?"

He was prevented from voicing the incredulous sound that rose in his throat by the lump that settled there at her question. The oddest sensation flowed through him, one he couldn't name, as he'd never felt it before. One that made it seem as if he'd been wrapped up in a warm, velvety blanket on a cold, winter night.

Bloody hell, again she was gazing up at him as if he were some sort of hero. And while he couldn't deny that having her look at him like that made him feel so damn good, neither could he deny the guilt that nipped at him for not correcting her. Because she was incredibly wrong.

He managed a weak smile and skimmed his hand lightly over her soft hair. "I'm glad you think so."

She smiled, then settled her head more comfortably in his lap and closed her eyes. "I know so."

He shut his eyes as well, allowing himself a few minutes to recover from the emotions welling inside him. But that few minutes, coupled with almost no rest last night, lulled him into a much needed sleep. The next thing he knew, his backside was numb and he realized he must have dozed off. He moved his hand to touch Carolyn and felt nothing. Blinking his heavy lids open, he saw he was alone under the tree.

"Carolyn?" Not seeing her wandering amongst the copse of trees in front of him, he turned to look behind him, toward the lake. And froze.

Carolyn, her back to him, wearing only her thin chemise, stood in the lake, the water lapping at her hips. Chilled fingers of icy fear raced up his spine to wrap around his throat-terrifying glimmers emerging from the dark place he kept them ruthlessly buried. As he watched, she moved forward, the water rising to her waist.

The rational part of his mind told him she was fine, but the memories he'd locked away so long ago bombarded him, mixing the past with the present, rushing sick, cold dread through him, twisting his insides into a painful knot.

With his heart beating so hard it felt as if each thud bruised his ribs, he rose on shaky legs and pulled in an unsteady breath.

"Carolyn!"

Her name sounded rough and hoarse, and he heard the panic gripping him. She turned at the sound, and unlike all those years ago, he was offered a sunny smile. A cheerful wave. But then his vision seemed to waver and instead of loose honey-colored hair he saw a dark braid. And eyes, so empty and bleak.

He blinked, and Carolyn's bright smile again swam before him. Her lips moved, saying something to him, but he couldn't hear above the roar in his ears. She waved again then turned and waded deeper into the water. He started forward on unsteady legs and shouted at her to come back, but just then she lost her footing. Her arms flailed and with a cry she went down. And disappeared beneath the water's glasslike surface.

God Almighty, not again. Not again.

The words reverberated through his mind, a bloodcurdling mantra. Everything inside him turned to ice, and for a single stuttering heartbeat he vividly relived what he'd spent years trying to forget. Then, with a jagged cry that seemed rendered from the very depths of his soul, he roared, "
No
!" and ran into the lake, frantic to reach her. He swam toward her, desperately fighting his past and his memories but failing.

Carolyn's head popped above the surface, and with a sputter she spit out a mouthful of lake water. A huff of incredulous laughter escaped her and she brushed at the tangled strands of hair plastered to her face. How clumsy could she be? Good heavens, her feet had gone right out from underneath her.

Shaking her head at her lack of grace, she struggled to rise. She'd just gained her balance when strong hands grabbed her upper arms and roughly turned her around. Blinking away the lake water clinging to her lashes, she looked up at Daniel. A self-conscious laugh escaped her and she again shoved at the hair clinging to her face.

"Can you believe I…"

Her words trailed off, as did her grin, when she saw his expression. His face was the color of chalk and his haunted eyes looked as if they'd been burned into his pale skin. His mouth was drawn into a tight, white-edged line and he radiated tension. Those burning eyes raked her face.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a low, harsh voice she didn't recognize. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, he gave her a quick shake. "Tell me you're all right."

"I'm fine. Wet and clumsy but completely fine."

His fingers tightened on her arms. "You went under the water."

She nodded. "I slipped." Because he seemed so undone, she offered him another smile. "I realize I must look a fright, but it's nothing a towel and a hairbrush can't correct."

Instead of smiling back, he snatched her against him. His arms banded around her like a vise, molding her to him. The hard, fast beats of his heart knocked against her, and with a groan he buried his face in the curve of her neck. At first she thought he was merely overreacting to a simple accident, thinking, as men tended to, that women were composed of fragile glass and would easily break-or in this case, dissolve. But after about ten seconds she realized he was shaking.

"Daniel?" She squirmed in his tight hold and he finally lifted his head. His ravaged expression stunned her. And worried her. Never had she seen such a desolate look in anyone's eyes. And although he was staring at her, it almost seemed that he didn't see her.

She framed his colorless face between her wet hands. "Clearly I scared you. I'm so sorry. But there's no reason to be concerned. I'm fine, Daniel. Absolutely fine." She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Although it wasn't necessary, I appreciate you dashing into the water to save me."

The dazed expression in his eyes faded a bit, but she was still worried. The man looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Taking his hand, she said, "Let's get out of the water."

He jerked his head in a barely perceptible nod, and with his hand tightly gripping hers, they made their way to the shore. By the time they emerged from the water, he was shivering badly, increasing Carolyn's concern since the day was warm with bright sunshine and the water wasn't cold. She walked to the willow, snatched up the blanket, then led him into the sun.

"Let's sit," she said softly.

He sat down hard on the grass, as if his legs had given out. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders then knelt in front of him and clasped his hands. His fingers were icy cold, his skin still deathly pale. "Daniel," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer for so long she thought he meant to ignore her. He simply stared out at the water, looking so shaken her heart ached for him. She gently rubbed his chilled hands between hers. And waited.

Finally a bit of color returned to his cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I don't like the water," he said in a voice that sounded as if he hadn't used it in several years.

"So I've gathered. I'm sorry I suggested we eat here. If I'd known your aversion, I never would have-"

"It's not your fault. No one knows. I've never told anyone."

She waited for him to continue, but another long silence ensued. It was obvious he was struggling with something, something that profoundly pained him. Finally she lifted his hands and pressed her lips to his cold fingers. "You don't have to tell me, Daniel."

He turned and looked at her, and her throat swelled at the bleakness in his eyes. His normally perfectly put-together exterior had cracked, breaking the shiny facade to reveal a man who deeply grieved something.

"She died. In the water." The whispered words seemed ripped from his depths. He drew a shuddering breath. "I tried to save her. But it was too late. By the time I dragged her out, she was dead."

Carolyn's breath caught and a flood of sympathy washed over her. "Oh, Daniel. How awful. I'm so very sorry."