“I can’t believe I let such unworthy suspicions come between us,” she said, trying desperately to swallow back a sudden pressure in her throat.
“I suppose it was inevitable. I was not open with you about myself.”
“How could you be? Goodness, that’s some secret.”
“I also had—how did you put it? Run roughshod over you. I was too high-handed.”
She didn’t know what to say. Yes, he had treated her quite high-handedly. But he’d done it out of protectiveness. She didn’t wish to dwell on their past differences right now.
“I am sorry, Rebecca. The situation seemed dire and you wouldn’t trust me. I did what I felt I had to in order to ensure your safety.” He sounded a little sleepier now. “My man betrayed me and for that I am sorry too.”
“How can that be your fault?”
“It is my place to keep my underlings in line.”
“I do not blame you for that.”
“I do.”
They fell silent for a time. She grew sleepy again and gradually slid down until her cheek rested against his woollen sleeve.
“Rebecca.” He spoke her name with ardent, unabashed affection.
“Yes, Stephen.” She could hear the difference in the way she spoke his name as well.
“Can you possibly accept my past? My life?”
His tension, all the energy of emotion that he was attempting to hold back, hung in the air between them. Or at least she fancied that it did. Her heart contracted for his discomfort, his need.
Then the meaning of his words settled upon her.
She caught her breath and her heart’s beat raced away with the speed of the carriage. Getting away from her. Trepidation because she had to face a profound truth. She could accept his past, his life. She could turn a blind eye to fact that he was a cold-blooded assassin.
She nodded and pressed her face deeper into the crook of his arm.
He laid his hand on the hair at her nape and gently pulled her head back.
She didn’t fight him but remained there, letting him cradle her head in his large hand.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
She complied.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“Yes, I accept you.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “And your…life and your past.”
His eyes widened, the only sign he’d even heard her. But he didn’t move, as though he were waiting for something.
“I accept you completely. I give you my trust.” For some reason, her voice cracked. She swallowed and continued: “I give you all of myself.”
For a brief moment he looked stricken.
Alarm pricked her.
Then his jaw hardened, and fire flashed in his eyes.
A thrill raced through the centre of her chest, her belly. The impact of that sensation made her drop her jaw and take a gasping breath.
He tightened his hold on her hair and brought his mouth down and claimed hers in a kiss that seared her straight down to her toes.
They kissed as though they were starved for the taste of each other’s mouths, until they were breathless.
She pressed his chest and he tore his mouth from hers then cradled her to his chest. Their harsh panting breaths sounded loudly.
For the first time since they had so recently met again, his secrets were not standing between them.
Nothing stood between them as far as she was concerned.
Warmth, tenderness welled in her chest, filling her until she was sure she would burst with it. She poured the feelings out in the way she clung to his shoulders, caressed her hands over his back.
“Are you remembering?” His deep, hoarse voice vibrated into her chest.
“Yes, I remember.”
“You remember how we loved each other?”
“Yes, yes, I do.” She took a tremulous breath. “I do.”
“Every day, I would count the hours, the minutes until we could have our time together,” he said.
She nodded, unable to speak due to the burning pressure in her throat. But she remembered how impatiently she too had counted the moments. The tingling anticipation as the shadows of the day grew long and they could find time to share. To talk. He would attempt to teach her chess but she was never an apt student and they both knew it. It had provided a cover for what really was occurring between them. But they didn’t have to talk or play chess or anything. Sometimes they would just sit quietly in each other’s company and she had drawn strength just from that. She had craved his calm, quiet intelligence, his assurance. He had made her feel safe and tranquil in a way no else had ever done.
She swallowed hard, needing to speak now. “No one had ever listened to me as you did. No one was ever so patient with me. You made me feel that I mattered. You made me feel safe to just be me.”
“You were a light in the darkness of my life. I would not have made it through those days without you.”
“I had no one. No one but you.” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her throat burnt and she did not even attempt to fight the tears, instead she burrowed her head into his shoulder. “You were my dearest, dearest boy.”
“Oh Rebecca, my dearest love.”
His voice rang with such ardency. Had she ever believed a man would speak to her this way? No, she had not. Until this very moment, it would have terrified her.
But now, she was ready.
They clung to each other for what seemed a very long time as the carriage rolled along.
“I am no longer a boy,” he said at length, startling her out of the trance they had fallen into together.
“No, you’re not.”
“I will never love you as a boy loves a woman again.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will.”
“I know your nature, Rebecca.”
A curl of excitement swirled in her belly. “Yes, you certainly do.”
And it felt wonderful that he had not judged her for it. Had not rejected her for it.
“I will train you, discipline you, love you until you are mine, completely mine.” He stroked her hair with a gentle hand. “Do you understand?”
Dark, heated pleasure pulsed deep in her stomach, deeper into her womb, sending a surge of blood tingling through her sex. “I understand.”
* * * *
She had recognized St. James’s Park, now she stared at the impressive house. “Where are we?”
“This is my house.”
“Oh.”
“Where else would I take you?”
She smiled at him and trailed her fingers along the stubble on his cheek.
He grasped her hand and kissed it then laced his fingers with hers. “Come, let’s go inside.”
When the carriage door opened, the brisk air refreshed her, sending a wave of energy through her. She felt rested and restored from her ordeal. The adventure of starting over with him loomed on the horizon and it made her blood sing with anticipation like she had not felt in years.
But when he helped her down the carriage step, she winced. All her muscles were sore.
He took a quick assessing glance over her then swept her into his arms.
“I am getting too old for adventures, I think,” she said.
“Not too old. Just out of practice.” He put his lips to her temple.
Cold air ruffled the loose strands of her hair, and cut through the blanket wrapped about her. Well-being surged through her again and she hugged his neck tightly as he carried her up the steps to the door. His knock was quickly answered. But the tall, heavily built footman’s expression sent chills through Rebecca.
Another of Stephen’s men?
Stephen carried her up the stairs. The décor of his house was all walnut and dark green, without any gilt or brass candleholders or edgings or fancy mirrors to relieve the severity. No pictures or wallpaper on the walls. No scent of tobacco, for apparently Stephen never smoked. At least, she had never seen him smoke.
Cooking smells teased her nose and her st
omach growled noisily. Yet, the sudden resurgence of her trepidation made her throat feel too tight to possibly eat just now.
Did she trust Stephen, the man she knew on the inside? Yes, absolutely she did.
But his world, his servants? Well, those were a little daunting to her.
He carried her to a bedchamber then to the huge bed that dominated the space. It was draped in heavy green velvet.
The footman who had accompanied them stripped back the coverlet to reveal snowy white sheets.
Stephen laid her on the bed then tersely ordered the servant to bring a hot bath.
She realized that he always spoke to his men that way, rather tersely, never more words than were required. Like someone commanding a dog?
No, surely not. She was just sensitive, tired, imagining things.
When the bath came, Stephen followed the servant back to the door then turned the lock.
She startled. Was that necessary in his house? Goodness.
He helped her remove her garments then she stepped into the bath and he washed her, despite her protests that she could do for herself. He took her hands in his own then examined the raw skin at her wrists and the cuts all over her hands and arms. And he swore, quite loudly and profanely. His vehemence made her jump.
Stephen’s blood boiled, he could feel it overheating his ears and curdling in his guts.
He was going to kill Gerard. Then he was going to kill Barnet. Or maybe the other way around. First Barnet then Gerard. Barnet had thought to have his ‘expert’ have a go at Rebecca? Well, his end wouldn’t be easy. Stephen would apply every bit skill of at torture that he had learnt over the years. Things he had seen from all over the world. Things even a man as evil and jaded as Barnet could not imagine.
Rebecca’s gasp startled him out of his vengeful fantasy.
He felt himself shaking. He had never felt such rage.
Seeing how she had paled, he realized how loudly and violently he had sworn. Realized that he was holding her hands too tightly now. He eased his grasp and took a long, deep ragged breath.
He shook himself mentally. God, he had never allowed his personal feelings to intrude in his work before. Suddenly, he was a young man again, powerless, vulnerable and faced with his uncle’s laughing disregard at his sister’s funeral.
Christ, he had not thought of that day, that life-altering moment, in years.
It did haunt his sleep from time to time, but he had purposely banished the thought from his waking hours. He made an effort to gentle his expression and he pulled tenderly on her hands. “Come love, the water grows cold.”
He led her to the bed then retrieved a bottle of oil from the night table beside the bed. He poured the oil that had been laced with mint and other herbs to ease muscle soreness into his hands. Her skin glided like silk beneath his touch as he carefully massaged her limbs, her shoulders, her back. Gradually, the raw edge of hatred inside of him eased and was replaced by a sense of being entrusted with something precious.
Rebecca’s heart.
He would work damned hard to prove himself worthy of such a gift.
The meal of stewed chicken and carrots and potatoes he’d called for came, but Rebecca was more interested in the apples and soft cheese.
He took some of the bread and chewed it without tasting it. Despite his queasiness, he forced himself to swallow. He would soon need all his strength.
She seemed to understand his need for quiet and didn’t attempt to draw him into conversation. In all the time since that night that he had followed her from Saxby’s deathbed to David Kean’s house, she was remarkably calmer now. He knew he could have avoided causing her much of the worry and agitation she’d suffered, had he simply been open and honest with her from the start. That smote his heart most of all. But how was he to have known that she could have accepted the truth? How many women could have accepted it?
Yes, he had forgotten her strengths, but this was the Rebecca he remembered. Intuitively understanding of others with an endless well of compassion.
He tucked her into bed and kissed her briefly. Calling on all his self-discipline, he forced himself to lie down beside her, though he burned inside to get on with tonight’s business. He closed his eyes.
Vague dreams passed through his mind. A gentle touch on his face, the tickle of breath against his ear. He reached out and grasped her slim waist. The bed rocked slightly as she shifted. Her breasts touched his chest, soft warmth yet the tips were hard. The scent of liniment overtook his senses.
None of his past bedmates had ever smelt like that.
He smiled and caressed her hair. “Rebecca.”
She slid her hand down his stomach.
Sparks danced over his flesh and his muscles tightened in anticipation of her touch as it moved lower. And lower yet.
He never indulged in carnal acts before an engagement of his duty. But how could he ever resist Rebecca?
Her hand brushed the head of his cock.
He caught his breath.
She closed her hand. Grasping him. Stroking.
A groan tore from his lips. He reached down to put his hand over hers and tightened her hand. He jerked his hips. His heart beat quickened to a fierce gallop. With her hand still tightened by his grip, she stroked him.
“God, Rebecca.”
She shifted and put her leg over his then shifted again. The heat of her quim slid over his thigh.
Wet. Oh Christ, she was so damned wet.
He moved his leg, pressing against her.
That sound she made—a moan or a gasp? It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Fluid gushed from him, drenching his hand. And hers.
He groaned, releasing her hand. He grasped her shoulder and rolled her until she was beneath him. He put his hand on her cleft, slipping his fingers into that beguiling, silken lusciousness.
She arched up, pressing, pressing…
“Oh Stephen.”
“Fuck.” He grasped his cock and positioned himself at her entrance. He thrust forward, sliding down into her silken slickness.
She clenched him.
On a groan, he bent his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder and bit her.
Her body began to shake.
His cock quaked with the urge to spill its seed immediately. He grasped her hips and froze, pressing himself against the mouth of her womb. “Fuck, fuck, Rebecca!”
She moaned.
He released her hips and reached for her legs. “Embrace…” A groan forced itself up from his depths. “Embrace me.”
She wrapped her legs around him and arched herself.
He sank all the way in to the hilt and gave a quick, hard thrust.
Her petite breasts bounced. Her nipples were rigid peaks, bright cherry-red. He licked his lips then bent and placed several hasty kisses on them, rubbing his lips against their erect tips, opening his mouth to taste her salty sweetness.
She writhed, a low moan vibrating through her chest.
“Christ,” he said breathlessly against her.
She twined her fingers into his hair and arched her chest.
He nipped at her. The velvet-over-firmness sensation of her slick channel made his cock throb and ache. He growled in his throat and with a jerk of his hips he withdrew then propelled back into her. Her silken heat sucked him in. Her inner walls hugged him.
He thrust into her again and again.
The sounds of her wetness became more audible. Her cunt began to draw. She made those convulsive little gasps that set his blood on fire.
“Come for me.” His voice grew hoarser, as it was prone to do under moments of extreme duress. “Come for me.”
Her cunt squeezed him.
Her hips bucked off the bed and she clutched his head and shrieked.
He grasped her hips, stilling her as he grit his teeth against the urge to spill his seed.
She lay panting. Her hair soaked and sticking to her scalp, spread like a fan against the white pillowslip. Her eyes tight
ly closed and shadowed by faint purple. Her nipples still erect.
She was so goddamned lovely.
He bent and put his mouth on one of those bright pink peaks. Suckled as though he were starving for the taste of her.
“Claim me.” Her voice was breathless.
He sucked harder.
“Claim me. Completely.” The note of supplication, begging, softened her words.
Her meaning was clear to him.
His cock went painfully rigid. He’d never been so hard in his life. He was certain of it. He withdrew then rolled her onto her stomach. He traced her spine, admiring the trimness of her waist and the gentle flare of her hips, then ran his hand over her surprisingly full buttocks. One would never guess at the sensuality of her arse when she was clothed. Every line of her body was perfection. God, she was made specifically to fulfil his every lustful dream.
He moved away from her then searched in his night table for a bottle of plain oil. Having found it, he poured oil over his fingers then returned to her.
He slid his fingers into the crease of her buttocks then lightly rubbed her arsehole. “You want me there?”
“Yes, claim me. Make me yours completely.”
He slicked her puckered ring with the oil. She was as perfect here as elsewhere. He eased his finger inside. She arched up.
Stephen withdrew his finger then crawled to his knees, grasped her hips and thrust his cock into her slick quim. She hugged his length. He groaned then circled her rosette again. He eased his finger back inside, going this time until he had two knuckles inserted. Her inner walls clenched him, fiercely. He put his hand on her neck and pressed her head to the bed.
She was breathing quickly, so quickly, in little convulsive gasps. He thrust again and again. She was clenching him and getting wetter and wetter. Having driven himself to near exhaustion, he paused to catch his breath. God, how he loved her cunt.
He fucked her thoroughly, bringing her right to the edge of a second release, until he had to hold his breath and freeze his body to stop himself from coming.
“Stephen…Stephen!” The frantic note in her voice made his heart beat quicker, made his cock throb with desire.
Perilous Risk Page 27