Ghost of Christmas Past (13 page)

“
Thea,” he growled. His face hardened with desire.

Before
she could draw a breath to say anything, her mouth was captured by
his. Desire thrummed through her, burning its way through her veins
to the very core of femininity. It gathered and blossomed deep
within her heart and began to unfurl into the most wondrous
sensations that were impossible to ignore. Rather than pull away as
she knew she ought to do, she melted against him and sighed when he
immediately pulled her closer against his solid length. He released
her legs to allow her toes to touch the floor but kept one long arm
around her waist so that he could hold her as close as their
clothing would allow.

In that
moment the outside world ceased to exist and she savoured the
precious moment that had been presented to her. His past, her
accident, paled to insignificance as they savoured the passion that
flared to life between them once more. A tiny thrill of feminine
delight swept through her at his husky groan when she slid her
hands into the gentle waves of his hair so that she could pull his
head down to hers. He immediately widened his stance and drew her
as close as it was physically possible to get. She should have been
warned by the rigid length of masculinity she could feel through
the folds of their clothing, but it made her feel slightly awed at
the speed of the physical need he seemed to have for her and she
couldn’t pull away from it.

Their
food lay forgotten as they savoured their first moment alone
together since the night before their wedding. He couldn’t help it;
he plundered. He savoured the delicious nectar with lips that
devoured and a need that drove him to make her his. The urge to lay
her before the fire was so strong that for a moment he found
himself judging the distance between the table and the fire but
then couldn’t bring himself to move. It wasn’t the right time, or
the right place. He had no doubt in his mind that he and Thea would
end up in bed together again but, when they did, he wanted them to
be able to savour the moment and spend as much time as they wanted,
needed, without fear of interruption. He wanted to take the time to
assure her that her scars, and he had no doubt there was going to
be some, didn’t bother him at all. It was the woman she was that
captivated him; intrigued him, and drew him back to her time and
again.

Thea
trembled beneath the surge of desire that threatened to overwhelm
her. She tried to remind herself that they were in Uncle John’s
house, with one, or possibly more, of the Star Elite patrolling
around on guard, and that they could be interrupted at any moment,
but she couldn’t bring herself to draw away. The warm of his mouth
on hers was impossible to break free from as was the solid feel of
him against her, and the broad expanse of shoulders beneath her
questing hands. He didn’t seem to mind that she couldn’t keep her
hands still; his were sliding sensuously up and down her back in a
long, slow sweep that made her skin tingle and her knees
weak.

“
God, Thea,” he growled into the dip at the base of her neck.
“We have to stop. I don’t want to but we are in the sitting room
darling.” There was little conviction in his voice and it reassured
Thea that she wasn’t the only one struggling with the strength of
the desire that threatened to overwhelm both of them.

Eventually, he lifted his head. She could do little more than
bury her face against his shoulder and try to steady herself while
he held her. If he removed his arms, she was fairly certain that
she would do something silly like fall flat on her face, and it was
enough to keep her still while she battled to get her senses under
control.

“
I shouldn’t -”

“
Sshh,” he shook his head and looked down at her chidingly.
“Don’t regret it.”

“
I don’t, it is just-”

“
Too soon, I know.” Rupert sighed and kissed her once. “But it
is going to happen, Thea, make no mistake. We are not going to lose
this a second time around.”

She
wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or slightly threatened by the
cool determination in his statement and merely looked at him while
she tried to find any objection.

“
I think dinner might be cold now.” She winced at how banal
that sounded, especially in light of what had just happened, but he
didn’t seem to mind.

“
We can’t send it back, the cook would be
horrified.”

The last
thing Thea wanted was to sit and choke down food, but there was
little else they could do. When the passion had cooled enough for
them to be able to let go of each other, Rupert, being ever the
gentleman, seated her and resumed his own seat across the table
but, within minutes of them picking up their cutlery, it was
evident that neither of them had the appetite for what was on the
table.

He
looked at her.

She
studied him carefully.

A part
of her wanted him to sweep the table aside and carry on where they
left off. She felt slightly scandalous at the strength of her
wanton thoughts. How could one kiss have such a devastating impact
on her? She felt like a wilting flower that had just been given its
first taste of water and had suddenly started to blossom. She
looked at Rupert. At first glance he seemed to be completely
unaffected by what had just happened, and she would have been a
little disconcerted that she had been the only one who had felt her
world rock at the enormity of the feelings that lay between them,
if it hadn’t been for the fine trembling of his fork as he tried to
eat and the fact that he spilled some wine from his goblet when he
placed it back on the table.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Thea was
still shaken by the kiss when she went to bed later that night. Her
lips still tingled from the force of his desire, and the memory of
being wrapped in his arms brought about an ache within her that
snatched any chance she had of at least being able to
doze.

Rather
than toss and turn on the bed any more, she sat in the window seat,
wrapped in her thickest shawl and stared out into the deserted
street below.

In spite
of the fact that they were in the middle of the country’s largest
city, it was almost as quiet as her home back in Leicestershire.
The only sounds that broke the stillness of the night were the
occasional caterwauling of cats and the distant barks of a dog.
Silence encompassed her and brought forward the thoughts she would
rather remained hidden, but there was little she could do to blank
them out without lighting a candle and heading downstairs to find a
book to read. However, she knew that Marcus, or Rupert, were on
watch and prowling around the house on the look-out for intruders.
She daren’t run the risk of bumping into either of them wearing
nothing but her nightgown so remained where she was.

Inevitably her thoughts turned toward Rupert, and his work
with the Star Elite. She was glad that he felt able to confide in
her, but his disclosure about what he had been involved in while he
had been away shocked her to her very core. Her cool fingers
touched lips that still tingled from the force of his
kiss.

She
wasn’t sure what to think about their evening together, she was
glad that they had been able to talk and get matters out into the
open, but the kisses should never have happened. She couldn’t allow
matters to develop any further. Her hand instinctively dropped to
the deep ridges on her right leg and she immediately felt a wave of
embarrassment sweep over her. Just the thought of anyone seeing the
scars that lay beneath her skirts horrified her, and she knew that
despite the lingering feelings she still had for him, she could
never allow him to see them. No man, not even a man who had seen
the horrors of warfare, could find her scars attractive or
appealing in any way. Unfortunately they were an integral part of
her. She couldn’t remove them; couldn’t hide them, and couldn’t
ignore the discomfort they brought to her on a daily basis and, if
a relationship did develop between her and Rupert, it would make
his discovery of her scars inevitable. The thought made her feel
slightly sick.

The
bitter realisation that her attraction for him could go nowhere,
and her love for him would go unrequited once more, made her want
to weep. A blossoming well of hurt began to open up deep inside her
and she wanted to rant against the unfairness of it all. She swiped
at the tears on her cheeks and sucked in a deep breath, desperately
trying to summon the will, and the strength, to harden her heart
against letting him into her life again. Somehow, whatever the
personal cost to her already battered heart, she had to find the
strength to keep him at arm’s length.

Stiffness made her squirm until she could find a more
comfortable spot. She was just straightening her shawl when the
movement of shadows outside of the window drew her attention. At
first she thought it was her reflection that had captured her eye
but felt an icy ripple of unease sweep down her spine when she
realised that it wasn’t her reflection but someone outside. Had she
imagined it?

She
frowned and sat perfectly still as she studied the street below. At
first glance everything seemed still and quiet, so what had she
seen move? Was it the cat that had been making such a loud racket
for the last few hours? A stray dog? After several moments of
stillness she discounted her suspicions as ridiculous and was about
to head off to bed when the sound of hooves drew her attention. It
wasn’t the sight of the carriage that was so unnerving. After all,
this was London; a city that never really slept. It was the tall,
black, heavily garbed coachman who sat tall and rigid atop the
large, lumbering, equally black carriage that was more than a
little unnerving. Even the horse that pulled it was jet back from
head to foot.

Don’t be so silly,
she chided
herself,
go to bed and forget
it.

However,
she couldn’t bring herself to move away from the window. The
carriage itself was large but fairly nondescript. In the ghostly
glow of the moonlight, it held a strangely sinister air that
unnerved her deeply. She swallowed and watched the carriage trundle
slowly past. Her gasp locked in her throat and her eyes widened as
the carriage drew level with the window she stood at. In that
moment the coachman turned his head to look directly at her. With
his face hidden beneath the shadows of a tall top hat, and a large
scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, he cast a darkly
macabre vision that she knew would remain with her for some time to
come.

On knees
that trembled, she jumped to her feet only to cry out when her
stiff legs struggled to hold her upright. She landed on the ground
with a bone jarring thud and battled tears at the futility of
trying to move. For one moment she contemplated calling out for
Rupert, but didn’t want to wake the entire household.

She was
busy struggling to get her feet beneath her and didn’t notice the
door suddenly open and Rupert appear in the doorway.

“
Thea?”

The
blissfully reassuring sound of Rupert’s voice above her head made
her look up. She pointed toward the window with a shaking
hand.

“
A man,” she gasped, and shook her hand. “On a carriage. He
looked straight at me.” As soon as she said the words she knew how
stupid she sounded but couldn’t shake off the insidious feeling
that some sort of evil had touched her life and she wouldn’t ever
be the same for it.

Rupert
flicked a glance at the window, but hesitated. Pain was evident on
Thea’s face and, from her position on the rug it was evident that
her legs had struggled to cope with the sudden movement she had
asked of them when she had tried to run for the door. Instead of
heading toward the window he squatted down before her, but had seen
enough of the scars that were visible on her bared flesh to know
that she must be in considerable discomfort.

He swept
her into his arms without a word and carefully deposited her on the
rug before the fire where she was a little warmer. Only when she
smiled her thanks at him did he then move to the window to take a
look outside. He was unsurprised to find that the street below was
still and quiet, and there was no sign of any carriage. He took a
moment to carefully close the shutters before he returned to down
beside her.

“
What did you see?”

Thea had
never felt so foolish in her life. This was London; a city full of
people. There was nothing untoward about carriages moving up and
down the street at any time of the day or night. There was
absolutely nothing for her to be afraid of. She sucked in a breath
and tried to quell her shaking.

“
It was a black carriage. Outside,” she whispered. “Oh dear.
God, it’s ridiculous really.”

Rupert
picked her hand up in his. Immediately his thoughts turned to the
black carriage that had rumbled by the night that John had been
shot, and the black carriage Fornier had been driving back in
Leicestershire.

“
Describe it.” The hardness in his voice made her study him
carefully for several moments. His eyes met and held hers in silent
reassurance but it did little to calm her trembling. “Thea, I need
to know what it looked like.”

“
It is silly, really. I don’t know what came over me,” she
whispered.