“Perhaps that he was trying to kill me? Honestly, Miles, sometimes you can be such an idiot.” She pulled a pillow up to her chest and hugged it against the sudden chill that had fallen over her.
For a moment he appeared to be almost pleased by the revelation, and then his face paled considerably. He rushed out onto the balcony, only to return seconds later with a length of rope.
“Well, now we know how he got in, but I’m afraid thanks to my stupidity he got away.”
Varya didn’t reply; she didn’t know what to say. Wearily, she pulled the counterpane up over her shivering limbs.
“Are you hurt?” Miles asked, practically tripping over his feet in his effort to get to her. The fear and concern etched on his face shocked her. He cared. He truly cared what happened to her. The knowledge filled her with joy—until it felt as though she might burst with emotion.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
He looked startled. “I suppose so, yes. Did he hurt you?”
She laughed shakily. “No, but he tried, Miles. He
was going to kill me.” Her eyes filled with hot tears as the shock finally set in. She hadn’t wept in front of anyone in years, and was uncommonly proud of the fact, but she was undone by his unexpected tenderness.
Miles brushed away the first hot, salty drop that trickled down her cheek with the pad of his thumb, but as the rivulets became more than he could manage, he switched to his handkerchief.
The soft linen smelled like him—spicy yet strangely sweet. Varya found herself sniffing just so she could breathe in that comforting fragrance.
“I don’t suppose you got a look at his face?”
She shook her head. “He came in while I was asleep. Why did you come?” She raised her gaze to his face, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
He flushed. “When I found out you had left, I borrowed a mount from Rochester and gave chase.” His gaze was earnest as it met hers. “I am truly sorry for what I said to you this morning—and for the stupid assumption I made upon barging in here.”
She knew how difficult it must be for him to say those words to her, and that made his apology even sweeter. “You should be.”
He chuckled as he drew her into his arms. “I deserved that, I know.”
Sighing, Varya snuggled against him. She despised weakness, but right now she felt too safe to care if she needed him or not.
His hands stroked her hair as his cheek brushed the top of her head. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had arrived to find you dead.”
The raw emotion in his voice made Varya’s throat clench.
“Don’t think about it. I’m safe now.”
“I know, and I am so glad for it.” His lips pressed against her forehead as he began to rock her gently, like a father rocks a frightened child.
“I’ll find whoever attacked you, Varya, and I’ll take care of him, but I don’t want to risk your safety again for that damned book of Bella’s.”
She frowned, smart enough to realize that her safety certainly came before the investigation, but not wanting to give up so easily.
Horror struck as something occurred to her. Gripping the sleeves of his coat, she tilted her head back to stare at him. “He got past the guards, Miles. How did he get past your guards?”
He paled. “I don’t know.”
“What if he comes back?” Terror had her firmly in its grip. “Even if I give you the book, how will he know I no longer have it? How can I ever feel safe in my own home while he’s out there?”
He calmed her with gentle shushing noises and tender caresses. Still, his silence unnerved her.
“What are we going to do?” Tears of frustration and fear burned the backs of her eyes.
Miles thought for a moment before answering. Wiping her tears away, he met her gaze evenly.
“I’m going to move in here with you.”
V
arya choked. “No.”
Miles carried on as though he hadn’t heard her, “If I move in here with you, we will both be able to rest easier.”
She snorted at the irony of the statement. Not bloody likely.
But he carried on, ignoring her. “Obviously, the men posted outside are not enough. With someone actually in the house, it will be much harder for anyone to get to you. I’ll put new locks on the windows and doors and speak to all the staff about keeping a watch for suspicious-looking characters…”
“People will talk.” Could she bear having him under her roof? It was a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time. So close she could touch him.
He chuckled softly. “Varya, no one will think anything of me staying here at night. You’re my mistress, remember?”
As if she could have forgotten.
“What will your family say?” Blythe was the closest thing she had to a friend in London, and Varya didn’t want to risk their fledgling relationship. And she certainly didn’t want to embarrass her friend or Miles’s mother.
“I’ll explain the situation to them. Once they understand your safety is at stake, I’ll have their full support.”
He would not be dissuaded. The idea of him sleeping under her roof, watching her every move, was disconcerting. What if he spoke to Katya? Her faithful servant already saw Miles as a handsome prince, come to rescue Varya from her tower prison. If Katya told Miles who she really was, he would treat her differently, and probably notify her parents out of his misguided sense of honor. She would not give up her freedom after enjoying its sweetness for so many years.
“Where will you sleep?” she blurted out, and then blushed furiously. Why, of all things, had she asked him
that
?
“Where would you like me to sleep?”
His voice was soft, almost a caress. She closed her eyes and shivered.
“There’s another bedchamber connected to this one,” she murmured. She opened her eyes and quickly looked away from his hot gaze. “But I don’t think your staying here is necessary. I’ll have Piotr move in there.” Mother Mary, but she
wanted
him to stay with her.
“I’ll have some things brought over from Wynter Lane,” he replied, ignoring her again. His fingers trailed along the curve of her bare shoulder, causing her to shiver once again.
“Shall I sleep in that adjoining room, Varya?”
He wanted her to invite him to her bed; she could hear it in the husky timbre of his voice. She knew he would not touch her unless she touched him first. Could she do it? Could she forsake her loyalty to Bella now that he was offering her what she wanted so badly? Wouldn’t Bella want her to grab what happiness she could?
“No,” she replied, lifting her gaze to his as she came to a decision. “You’ll sleep with me.” God help her. She might be a fool, but she wasn’t stupid enough to let him slip through her fingers.
He inhaled sharply, making her smile. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her breast. His thumb brushed against her taut nipple, sending a shiver straight to the place between her thighs.
When he stood, Varya lifted her head so fast it hurt her neck. She winced. “What are you doing?”
Grinning, Miles gestured at the chamber door. It was wide open.
“I think it’s best to close it, don’t you? Unless, of course, you’d prefer to leave it open?”
She felt her cheeks suffuse with heat. “No, close it.”
He did, securing it with a chair as he had broken the latch when he kicked the door in. As he walked, he removed his jacket and tossed it on the sofa.
Wetting her lips, Varya watched with wide-eyed interest from her seat in the middle of the bed as his nim
ble fingers deftly unknotted his cravat. The discarded muslin fell to a soft puddle on the carpet.
His waistcoat landed on her dressing table when he threw it, knocking over the miniature of her parents.
All the better
, Varya thought. She didn’t want to feel the weight of their painted gazes as she became his mistress for real.
“Shall I continue?” he asked in a teasing voice, pulling the tails of his shirt free of his trousers.
“Please,” she replied in kind. This lighthearted approach did much to calm her.
He paused a few feet away from her, grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and raised his arms. He leaned forward, pulling the fine linen garment over his head.
His hair was mussed, curling slightly around the strong column of his throat as he straightened. She could see the knotted muscle beneath his golden skin flex as he pulled his arms free of his shirt sleeves.
He tossed the shirt aside.
Lord, he was beautiful. His shoulders were wide and muscular, curving into thick, well-defined biceps. His chest was broad and covered with soft auburn hair—just as in her dream. The curls trailed down along his rippled abdomen, tapering when they reached his narrow waist.
A jagged scar marred the perfection of his torso. The narrow strip of pink, satiny flesh began high up on his ribs and ran almost to his navel.
“The war,” he replied when he noticed her stare.
Rising up on her knees before him on the bed she held his gaze. “Does it hurt?”
“Varya, I don’t think this conversation is conducive to sexual arousal.” His expression was one of distaste.
Varya caught one of his large hands in both of hers. “Does it hurt?” she persisted.
He stared down at their joined hands. “Sometimes.” His voice was soft, distant.
She turned his hand over in hers, bringing the palm to her lips. She kissed the soft inner flesh, working her way out to his fingers. The salt of his skin was on her mouth; she flicked her tongue over the tips, nipping softly with her teeth.
A soft gasp slipped past his lips, and Varya felt the fingers of his free hand slide through her hair. Emboldened by his touch, she released his hand, and turned her attention to the scar so close to her face. Softly, her lips brushed the satiny flesh. The hair on his torso tickled her cheek; she pressed her face against his warmth.
Slowly she felt herself being lowered onto the bed; her shift rode up around her thighs. She became aware of the heat between her legs, the puckering of her nipples, and the pounding of her heart.
It seemed as if she had waited all her life for this man; giving him her body was just a small part of what was happening between them.
She refused to think about the rest.
Cool air touched her breasts as he peeled back the front of her shift—a shocking contrast as his warm hands settled over the taut flesh. Varya moaned as he gently rolled one hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“So damned beautiful,” he muttered, lowering his head to capture the other nipple between his lips. Mercilessly, his tongue flicked the aching bud.
Her hips jerked against him as a jolt of erotic pleasure coursed from her breasts to the very center of her sexuality. A delicious ache was building inside her.
His hands were tugging on the straps of her shift, hauling them down over her arms in a clumsy attempt to remove the flimsy garment. She shifted her body to accommodate him. When the gauze finally pooled around her feet, she kicked it away.
Then he was gone.
Bewildered and drugged with desire, Varya leaned up on her elbows. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t leaving her, was he?
Hopping on one foot, Miles struggled to remove one of his boots. “I think it’s only fair that we both remove all our clothing, don’t you?” He grunted as the boot finally came free, almost losing his balance in the process. “Although we might both be well into our dotage before I get these godless boots off.”
Varya chuckled as first one boot then the other sailed across her chamber. Her laughter faded as his hands went to the falls of his trousers. The usually smooth front bulged with his hard arousal. She watched in fascination as he peeled the snug-fitting fabric down his legs.
Good Lord, it was really going to happen. She was finally going to experience the pleasure of a man’s body.
Standing naked before her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. From the top of his head to his
powerful torso and the long, muscular columns of his legs, he was as perfect as Michelangelo’s
David
—with one
large
difference.
He moved toward her like a great cat, muscles rippling, every step measured and sensual. Her stomach fluttering in anticipation, Varya fell back against the coverlet as he crawled onto the bed, sliding between her thighs as though he belonged there.
The hard length of him probed her moist flesh as he leaned over her, brushing his lips against her face and throat with feathery kisses. It was almost too much for her to bear.
As he supported himself on one forearm, his free hand toyed with her nipples, manipulating the aching peaks until she moaned aloud with pleasure. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel her body wrapped around his, wanted him to take her in all those different positions Bella had told her about until they were both too exhausted to move.
Never had losing her control felt so
right.
He slid down her body, his mouth blazing a fiery trail along her flesh. He paused only for a moment at her breasts, sucking ardently on her nipples until she writhed in exquisite agony. The ache deep within her was acute now, begging to be relieved.
“I want you, Miles. Now.” Her voice was low and husky, and sounded strange to her own ears.
He lifted his head, releasing her nipple. The pink skin glistened with wetness from his mouth. His eyes seemed to be pools of molten gold, reflecting her own wanton image.
“Not yet,” he told her softly, “but soon.” He moved down her rib cage, kissing and licking her hot flesh. His tongue probed lightly at her navel before moving to the generous flare of her hips and down one thigh.
Varya felt his weight slide from the bed. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her derriere to the edge of the mattress.
“What are you doing?” She gasped as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Despite her shock, she felt a flood of warmth inside as her flesh throbbed in anticipation.
The light stubble on his cheeks rubbed erotically against her softness. His breath was cool against her.
“Worshipping, I think,” came his reverent reply as his lips trailed up her thigh to that part of her that burned for his touch. She jumped as his lips touched her in the most intimate of kisses.
“Oh my,” she whispered. Bella had never told her about
this
.
“You’re so wet,” he muttered hoarsely, trailing a finger along her warm cleft. “God, I want you.”
His fingers opened her for his tongue. A spasm racked the muscles in her thighs as his mouth claimed her. His tongue was soft, hot, and wet, and the feel of it against her flesh was almost too incredible to bear. Raising herself up on a wobbly arm, Varya reached down with the other to tangle her fingers in his soft hair, pressing him closer.
His gaze met hers over the expanse of her soft belly. Heat flooded her body. She should be embarrassed, but it was so arousing to watch as his mouth caressed
her. His tongue brushed her most sensitive spot and she moaned out loud.
“More!” she cried as his tongue rubbed the throbbing bud with excruciating deliberation.
The sensation was too much. His tongue moved relentlessly; his fingers held her open. She fell back against the bed; her hands pulled fervently at his hair as her hips bucked beneath him. “Oh yes, yes…”
Her breath was coming in short, feral pants. The sweet pressure between her legs was building—soon, soon.
“
Yes
!” Her body exploded with pleasure. Spasms of delectable warmth raced through her torso and limbs, leaving her muscles feeling heavy and liquid.
Miles rose above her, reveling in the fact that he had pleased her. Her countenance was tranquil, but he wasn’t finished with her.
He stood, hooking his arms underneath her knees and holding them wide. He watched as the head of his shaft parted the flesh that had perfumed his hands and face. His head fell back. She was so tight, so wet.
Too late he felt the thin barrier fall beneath his siege, felt a twinge of discomfort as his own sensitive flesh plowed into her. He heard her startled gasp in unison with his own. Wide blue eyes stared up at him.
“Virgin,” he croaked.
She nodded, shifting beneath him in a way he could only term uncomfortable.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought…”
Oh yes, Miles. Tell her what you thought
. “I thought you had done this before.”
She shook her head, wincing as he withdrew from her. Gently, he lowered her legs, staring in fascinated horror at the smears of blood on his rapidly deflating shaft.
Gingerly, she slipped off the bed and inched away from him. Miles had no idea what to do. The only other virgin he had ever been with was Charlotte, and she had been his wife—he had expected it. But Varya wasn’t his wife, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
“Are you all right?”
She slipped her arms into the sleeves of a satin dressing gown, tightly cinching the belt before turning to him. He knew he should dress, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move.
“I’m fine. A little sore, but I suppose that is to be expected. I’m afraid no one ever told me that it could be so—uncomfortable. Is it always like—this?” There was no need to define “this.”
He flinched. “It’s worse for some women than others the first time.” He moved toward her. “Varya, if I had known—”
Her gaze met his and the coolness in her eyes stopped him. “You assumed that I had been with other men.”
He began pulling on his trousers. “Yes.”
“Because of what I do?”
He hated the suspicion in her voice, and he was too ashamed of himself to answer. He had thought she had been with other men. Her profession and her passion had persuaded him. How could he have known?
“You thought I was a whore, despite my telling you that I did not have a protector.” Her tone was bitter.
“You said you didn’t
need
one,” he reminded her before he could stop himself. “You said nothing about never having had one.” He shoved his feet back into his boots.