Elusive Passion (23 page)

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger to his lips; the stubble above his mouth was sharp and rough. “It’s not your fault, and it doesn’t matter now.”

Miles arched a brow. “He’s dead?”

“No. Carny has arranged for him to have a private cell at the…” She thought for a moment. “Bethlehem Hospital?”

“Bedlam.” He nodded. “A good place for him. He’ll not see Charlotte again for a good many years.”

“That’s why Carny arranged it. He said life in prison knowing you had won would be Robert’s best punishment.”

“He was right.” His expression softened. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I would have thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

“Don’t ever say that!” he cried, wincing as his shoulder lifted off the pillow. His eyes shut, his face twisted with pain as he eased himself back down.

“I’m sorry! Please, Miles, I’m sorry. Lie still.” Releasing his hand, she adjusted the cushions so that he would be more comfortable. She smoothed the hair back from his face, running her fingers along his brow and eyelids until the agony in his features disappeared.

His lashes fluttered open. “I have something I want to tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”

He stumbled over a string of broken Russian.

Varya stared at him, a bubble of laughter threatening to burst from her lips. “I beg your pardon?”

Miles’s brow furrowed. “My heart without you was empty.”

She couldn’t help it—a bark of raucous laughter tore from her throat.

“Stop that!” He poked her thigh with his index finger. “I was trying to tell you how I feel about you!”

“You said…” A deep belly laugh sent tears streaming down her face. “You said that your
stomach
was empty without me!”

The bed shook with her mirth. Miles chuckled with her. He waited until the shaking stopped and she wiped her eyes with the hem of her gown before attempting to speak.

“What should I have said?”

She sniffed and smiled at him. His eyes glistened like slivers of gold. The love she saw there nearly took
her breath away. She whispered the correct phrase with all the love she felt in her heart.

He took her hand again, stroking the sensitive flesh of her palm with his fingertips. His eyes darkened, the amusement fading as something warmer ignited in their depths.

“Say it again,” he urged, his voice thick and husky.

She did.

He brought her palm to his lips, tracing the delicate lines with the tip of his tongue. She shivered beneath his touch.

“My
life
was empty without you.” He pulled her closer. “
I
am empty without you.” He gently hauled her toward him until their torsos were touching and their faces were mere inches apart.

Slightly dazed, Varya met his intense gaze. “I almost lost my mind when I saw you lying on the ground bleeding. I couldn’t bear to live without you.’

“Show me.”

She arched a brow. “How?”

“Take off your gown.” He pulled on her sleeve. “Make love to me.”

“Miles! Your shoulder!”

“Is of no consequence, madam.” His hand traveled up her arm.

“Not even five minutes ago you almost screamed in agony when you moved too quickly. Now I’m to believe you’re fine?” She shook her head in amused disbelief.

He brushed his fingers along the curve of her breast. “I want you on top of me. I want to make
you
scream. Here. Now. In this bed. I want you to show me how
much you love me.” His hand came up to cup her heated cheek. “I want to show my love to you.”

His words sent a flood of sensual warmth through her body. Her nipples tightened in anticipation of his touch. A warm tingling stirred between her legs. Emboldened, she slid off the bed, her fingers reaching around to struggle with the buttons of her gown.

“I’ll be eighty before you get that damned thing off,” he growled with mock gruffness. “Get me some scissors.”

Giggling, Varya lifted her skirt and began wiggling the muslin up over her shoulders and head. The neckline snagged her hair, yanking it free of its pins. By the time she tossed the gown across the room, several colorful Russian curses had escaped her lips, and her hair hung down her back in a tangled mass.

“Shall I continue?” Giving him what she hoped was a seductive glance, she ran the flat of her hands down the front of her chemise. Her hardened nipples pushed at the thin lawn.

“Leave it. I like it.” Careful not to disturb his injured arm, he tossed back the blankets, revealing his naked limbs and hard erection.

Eagerly, Varya climbed back onto the bed. She wanted him with an intensity that seemed to grow stronger every time she was with him.

She straddled his hips and reached down to guide him into her. She was already wet and ready for him, and she slid down his shaft with a deep moan of pleasure.

Neither of them lasted for long. Finding a rhythm
that teased and stimulated, Varya tried to go slow and prolong their pleasure and not disturb his shoulder, but the sharp stabs of ecstasy were more than she could bear. Gripping the bed hangings above her husband’s head, she lifted and plunged her body onto his until a shattering climax shook them both.

Afterward, lying in the crook of his good arm, her palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Varya looked up to find him watching her.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked. It had been a powerful feeling, knowing she was in control of their lovemaking, that she gave him pleasure.

“I’ll live,” he replied. “I’ll take some laudanum in a few minutes.”

She shook her head at him. “I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I enjoyed it too much.”

A smile curved his lips as he nuzzled her hair. “I always want it to be like this with us,” he murmured.

She grinned. “Sticky?”

Chuckling, he hugged her closer. “I want us to be as honest with each other as our bodies are.”

“No more lies. No more secrets—for either of us.” She kissed his cheek. “I like that.”

“Me too.” Wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger, he smiled. “Can you be honest with me now?”

Varya leaned up on her elbow and met his sparkling gaze with an earnest one. “Of course.”

“Do you regret our marriage? You were once very opposed to the institution.”

“I could never regret marrying the man I love. Never.”

His eyes warmed like molten pools at her words. “And to think they used to call you elusive,” he teased.

Smiling, Varya lowered her head to his.

“That was before you took my heart,” she whispered, before silencing his mouth with her own.

T
he screams were driving him crazy.

“I can’t take any more of this!” Miles raked a hand through his hair. “What are they doing to her up there?”

“I believe they are trying to bring your child into the world,” Carny reminded him calmly as he lit a cigar.

The dowager marchioness shot him a reproving look before turning to her son.

“Everything is fine, dear. There’s nothing to be worried about. These things take some time.”

“Time! It’s been twelve hours!” It took only six to kill Charlotte. “I’m going up.”

“Miles, no!” his mother cried, but he was already out of the room and halfway up the stairs. She couldn’t have stopped him anyway.

Miles paused, out of breath and terrified, at the door to Varya’s chamber. He didn’t know if he could face what was waiting for him inside.

It’s your fault this is happening. If you had used protection…

There was no use running through the list of “what ifs” again. He had made love to his wife several times without precautions—Varya had sworn it was the wrong time in her cycle to conceive—and now, even though he knew his fears were unreasonable, he was scared he might very well be responsible for her death. After all his promises not to let anything happen to her, he owed it to her to be with her now.

He turned the knob and walked in.

“Lord Wynter!” the midwife gasped in horror. “You shouldn’t be in here!”

Miles ignored the woman. He ignored the shocking amount of blood between his wife’s thighs. He walked straight to the top of the bed and fell to his knees on the floor. He braced his forearms on the mattress beside Varya’s head. She smiled weakly, her face and hair damp with perspiration.

“Hello,” she murmured.

“What can I do?” he asked, ashamed of the tears that pricked the back of his eyes.

“Hold my hand.” She held out her right arm. “It’s almost over.”

Almost over
! A hot tear slipped down his cheek as he clutched her limp fingers. “Please don’t leave me, Varya,” he whispered hoarsely. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Her smile faded as a strange expression fell across her face. Oh God, she was dying and there was nothing he could do!

“Miles, do you trust me?”

“What a ridic—of course I do!” To think at one time he wouldn’t have been able to say that.

“Then just hold my hand and don’t let go, no matter what.”

He did, but instead of her grip growing weaker as he feared, her fingers tightened and clutched at his until they became like a band of iron around his own. Awed by the strength she exhibited, he stared at their clasped hands. Her grip was surprisingly painful.

He looked up at her face. Her jaw was taut, her lips pulled back from her teeth as she strained and pushed. Below them, he could hear the midwife’s encouraging voice.

“That’s it, my lady, almost done now.”

A wave of excitement rolled over Miles. He forgot his fear as he leaned on the mattress and wiped the sweat from Varya’s brow with his free hand.

“I trust you, Varya. I trust you,” he murmured against her ear. “I love you.”

And then suddenly her back arched a bit and her fingers bit into his with enough strength surely to break them. Her mouth opened and out came a keening wail—and then she fell limp.

Miles froze. “No. God, no.”

Then he heard it—the lusty wail of an angry child.

“Alive,” he whispered, numb with relief.

His head snapped around as the midwife plopped a
small, cloth-wrapped bundle into the crook of his free arm. “Congratulations, my lord,” the old woman said. “You’ve a son.”

A son.

Miles found it hard to tear his gaze away from the tiny red-faced infant nestled against his chest. The tiny arms with their tiny little hands waving in the air were the most amazing things he had ever seen.

“I suppose you’re going to take all the credit for how perfect he is.”

Miles’s heart flipped over in his chest as he looked up to see his wife smiling happily at him.

“If he’s perfect, it will be all because of his mama,” he told her thickly.

She flushed with pleasure. “Flatterer. What shall we name him?”

Miles glanced at his son. “I’d like to name him Edward, after my father.”

“Of course. Edward Vladimir Mancini Christian.”

His head jerked up. “
Vladimir
? Do we have—Mancini?”

Varya nodded, lifting her proud gaze from her son to her husband.

“For Bella,” she replied. “If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have met.”

Stroking her damp hair, Miles smiled, a multitude of emotions coursing through him.

“And I would never have known such perfect happiness existed.”

Raising a brow, Varya’s expression was one of weary amusement. “It hasn’t always been perfect, Miles.”

Casting a loving glance at his now sleeping son, Miles lowered his head to his wife’s.

“But it is now, love,” he murmured against her lips. “It is now.”