Nowhere Near Respectable

by Mary Jo Putney

  “We are going to exit from this hackney and leave madness behind us,” he said firmly. “We will go inside and retire to our separate bedrooms and separately sleep the sleep of the just.” Except he’d lie awake all night from frustrated lust so intense that his good right hand would be unable to fully relieve it.

  “Don’t be absurd,” she said tartly as she straightened her garments and felt around for her bonnet. “We may have no future, but we have a present. We desire each other, and we are living outside our normal lives. For as long as this investigation lasts, we can do as we wish without social censure.”

  Needing to drown that tempting vision, he threw the door open and jumped to the street. This time he didn’t offer his hand to help her out since he didn’t dare touch her, and she was certainly capable of climbing from a carriage on her own.

  She proved that she could, and ruined his good intentions by taking his arm. Wordlessly they climbed the steps and he unlocked the door. Inside the small foyer a dim lamp had been left to guide them. There was only one candle left on the table, so the rest of the household had returned and retired by now.

  Keeping his voice low, he said, “The Garden of Eden contained Adam, Eve, and a serpent. You, Lady Kiri, are most surely descended from the serpent who is offering temptation in return for Adam’s and Eve’s souls.”

  Instead of being insulted, she laughed. “I’ve read that sexuality was the real temptation the serpent offered, and Adams and Eves ever since have been grabbing that apple with infinite enthusiasm.” Her laughter died as she peeled off her gloves, revealing her elegant, long-fingered hands. “Why shouldn’t we do the same? Where is the harm?”

  The thought of those lovely naked fingers on his body made him swallow and look away. “You are too intelligent not to understand that sexuality is volatile and sometimes dangerous. It can cause great grief and suffering. It almost got me killed.”

  “I have no mad husband, and unless you’ve been keeping her hidden, you have no mad wife,” she pointed out.

  His mouth twisted. “I haven’t lain with a woman since Harriet died.”

  She caught her breath in surprise. “That can’t be from lack of opportunity.”

  “It isn’t. The reason is . . . guilt, I suppose.” He forced himself to explain why he’d avoided any kind of entanglement with other women. “I was heedless with Harriet, and that triggered a disaster that killed her and injured too many others. It made me . . . wary.”

  “She was on a doomed course, I think. If Swinnerton hadn’t beaten her to death that night, it probably would have happened another time,” Kiri said quietly. “Isn’t it time you embraced life fully again?”

  He looked into her eyes, green even in this light. “You really are a pagan. But you’re too intelligent not to know that consequences are real. Even if I’m not shot by your father or your brother, there is always the chance of a child.”

  “Give me credit for advance planning,” she said with a mischievous smile. “When I was considering marriage to Godfrey Hitchcock, I asked Julia Randall how to prevent unwanted pregnancy. It’s so useful to know a good midwife! I came to Exeter Street prepared because I want very much to be with you while I can.”

  “I’m deeply flattered,” he said honestly. “But even if you can be casual—I don’t know if I can be.” Before Harriet Swinnerton, he’d specialized in light affairs, but he was no longer that man.

  She brushed her fingers along his jaw in a gossamer caress. “Given that your last affair ended in disaster and you’ve had three years of lonely celibacy, no new affair can be casual. Or do you intend to live a lifetime of celibacy?”

  He shivered at the touch of her fingertips. “Definitely not. But better that I indulge the sins of the flesh with a woman who is older and more experienced so there will be fewer consequences.”

  “There need be no consequences between us, other than a proper amount of regret when the time comes to part.” She removed her bonnet, revealing that their impassioned kissing in the carriage had left her shining hair in charming disarray. “Don’t you think the pleasure we can share before we part will be worth that?”

  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or weep. “You are unlike any woman I’ve ever known. If I have a lick of sense, I’ll run upstairs and lock my bedroom door behind me.”

  In the dim light, her dark beauty had an exotic cast. “You think of me as English because that is the side you see, but I am also a daughter of India. My mind does not always work the way you might expect.”

  “That I’ve noticed.” He tried not to stare as she removed her cloak, revealing bare skin and curves. “Are all Hindu women dangerous seductresses?”

  “Very few.” She smiled wickedly. “You’re just lucky.”

  The foyer was small and there was no room to dodge when she linked her arms around his neck. Her voice, her scent, her lovely lithe body, flooded his senses.

  Softly she said, “You also think of me as an innocent maiden who needs protection. But I am no innocent.” She proved it with a kiss that seared to the marrow.

  “You’ve removed the last shred of my conscience, Kiri,” he said unevenly after he came up for breath. “I almost believe we can be lovers without triggering another disaster. And even if we can’t—right now I don’t care.”

  “We can be together without destroying each other.” Kiri stepped back and caught his hand. “I promise you that. Now come.”

  He lit a candle from the night lamp and let her lead him up the stairs. The flame flickered wildly in the drafty stairwell, making her look more dream than real. An incredible, beautiful woman unlike any other. One who was strong, not needy. One who could give without demanding his soul in return.

  She was too good to be true. But for tonight, he wanted rather desperately to believe.

  Caught between exhilaration and terror at her boldness, Kiri towed Mackenzie up to her room. She’d considered the bedchamber spacious, but his broad shoulders and height made the room seem smaller.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, he set the candle on the desk and enveloped her in an intoxicating embrace. He’d fascinated her when he was trying so valiantly to hold back. Now that he’d freed his desire, he was irresistible.

  With only a single candle to light the room, she experienced him more through scent and touch than sight. He was delicious and she wanted to inhale him. To taste, to devour. To take him into her very being.

  His long, clever fingers massaged her back. They felt so good she didn’t realize he’d unfastened her gown until he stepped away and the cool green silk slithered down to pool at her feet. Her shift and corset covered her as thoroughly as the gown had, but his gaze was rapt. “Why are undergarments so wickedly enticing?” he asked in wonder as he traced the edge of her corset across her breasts.

  “Because they’re forbidden,” she replied huskily, her skin singing to life under his touch. “But now it’s your turn.”

  She stepped close and untied his cravat, stripping it away to bare his throat. When she leaned in for a kiss, his pulse beat against her lips. She also tasted a trace of salt overlaying the mysterious essence of who he was. “Hold still,” she ordered. “I wish to drive you to madness.”

  “You already have,” he groaned, but he stood statue-still as she peeled off his coat, tugged his shirt from his pantaloons, and ran teasing hands across skin taut over underlying muscle. She loved the pattern of hair on his chest, and the way it caught red-gold glints in the candlelight.

  Giddily she yanked his shirt up over his head, then removed the padded vest he wore to look heavier. In the process, her fingers brushed his back, and she felt surprising roughness. Curious, she circled around to investigate more closely.

  She caught her breath. His back was a scarred mass of irregular ridges. As an army daughter, she recognized the cause. Gently she laid her hand in the middle of his back. “The results of Swinnerton’s flogging, I assume. It’s a wonder you weren’t killed.”

  “I damn
near was,” he said, voice flat. “He ordered twelve hundred lashes, the maximum allowed, but I collapsed somewhere around five hundred. Swinnerton wanted me to endure the full number before the hanging, so I was dragged off and locked up. A surgeon came to patch the damage enough that I could receive the rest of the lashes.”

  “That’s when Randall arrived? You said if it weren’t for Swinnerton wanting the flogging, you’d have been hanged before help could reach you.”

  Mackenzie’s broad chest expanded as he drew a deep breath. “I had just enough consciousness left to tell Randall what happened. He’d encountered Swinnerton before, which helped. By the time Will and Wellington arrived, I was coherent again.”

  She struggled to suppress the tears that wanted to fall. “Then I’m glad for the scars, because if not for the flogging, you would have died before I ever met you.”

  “You would have been better off if that had happened, my warrior lass,” he said bleakly. “I can do you no good.”

  “Nonsense,” she retorted. “You are so magnificently unboring. Not to have known you would have been a sad loss.”

  “It wouldn’t be a loss if you’d never known I existed,” he said, his voice dry as desert bones. “But if I’d been hanged, I’d be remembered as a rapist and murderer. I wouldn’t have wanted to curse Will with that.”

  “Understandably.” Even a man as calm as Will Masterson would be upset by that kind of notoriety. She stroked his back with both hands. “But you committed no crime.”

  “Not legally, but the scars are a mark of criminal foolishness. Harriet Swinnerton cast out lures to other officers. Would Will have accepted her advances? Randall? Even when they were junior officers, they had more sense.”

  She realized that he saw the scars not only as a badge of foolishness, but of shame. She circled his waist with her arms and laid her cheek against his ruined back. “The scars are also a sign of injustice,” she said softly. “You almost died for a crime you didn’t commit, and because of that, you developed a passion for justice, didn’t you? That’s part of why you work with Kirkland. You changed and became a better man.”

  After the space of a dozen heartbeats, he said reluctantly, “I suppose so.”

  She continued to hold him, feeling the beating of his heart, the expansion and relaxation of his lungs. He was strong and masculine and alive. Yet he might not have been, and she would never have known what she had missed.

  “Is it better to be born wise?” he asked. “Or to achieve wisdom only through catastrophic stupidity?”

  Kiri considered. “Being born wise would be easier. My sister, Lucia, inherited sense from her father and was always a wise child.” Unlike Kiri. “But from a theological view, I think it’s preferable to struggle and overcome one’s weakness to become a better person.” She laughed suddenly. “It’s certainly more interesting.”

  Mackenzie turned and crushed her against his chest, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sure Lucia is a lovely and admirable young lady. Definitely lovely if she looks like you. But not enchanting. Not able to rearrange my mind and memories through a mixture of intelligence and beauty.”

  “Men so seldom mention my intelligence, and never before my beauty,” she said approvingly. “This is why you are too much man for me to waste.”

  But not too much man to be embraced. She loved the power in his broad shoulders and muscular body. Loved the way he kissed and caressed her, as if she was the center of his universe. Loved the way every fiber of her being responded to him, wanting to lure and yield and join.

  His nimble fingers unlaced her corset, then massaged the tightness from her sides. His hands moved up to cup her breasts. Gently he kneaded her yearning flesh through the thin cotton of her shift, teasing her nipples to tautness with his thumbs as her back arched with pleasure. She barely managed to gasp, “I need to make one quick detour behind that screen so I can prepare myself. I’d very much like to come back to find a fire burning on the hearth, and you naked.”

  He grinned. “Your wish is my command, my warrior queen.”

  She broke away and didn’t look back, knowing she couldn’t leave him even for a minute if she could see him.

  Ever the optimist, she’d set out the sponge and the vinegar earlier. It took only a moment to insert them. She’d been less than truthful when she told Mackenzie there would be no consequences from their intimacy. His name would be engraved on her heart in letters of fire until she died.

  But she would do her best to ensure that there would be no disastrous physical consequences. If she became with child, he was gentleman enough to marry her, but she didn’t want an unwilling husband.

  Coal rattled as he built a fire. Then clothing and boots rustled as he stripped. The knowledge of what he was doing was wickedly exciting. She pulled off her corset, shift, and stockings, balling up the garments and tossing them over the screen one at a time.

  “You know how to add fuel to the flames, don’t you?” he said admiringly.

  “I try.” With sudden absurd shyness, she released her thick, dark hair and shook it out to fall to her waist in a shining mass.

  After drawing a deep breath, she stepped from behind the screen. She had been told she was beautiful since she was a willful child. Here was the ultimate test.

  From Mackenzie’s stunned expression, she passed the test. “Oh, my lady,” he breathed. “How can you look as innocent as Eve and as desirable as Aphrodite at the same time?”

  “I am neither Eve nor Aphrodite, though I’m glad you think so.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied every splendid inch of him, from the thick waves of his brown hair to his broad shoulders and chest and down to narrow hips and muscular legs. And most certainly she saw the evidence of how much he desired her.

  He could have modeled for a Greek sculptor, but living flesh was far more moving. “You are also beautiful, Damian, but not, I think, innocent.”

  “Definitely not innocent.” He moved forward to take her hand. “But tonight I feel reborn. As if this is my first time.” He linked his fingers through hers and rested her hand above his heart.

  The motion drew them together so only inches separated them. She was close enough to feel the heat of his body. Their hands were not too dissimilar in color, but she was tan all over in contrast to the English paleness of his torso.

  She moved forward and pressed her softer body against his firm muscles and angles. Male and female, designed to mate. Their arms slid around each other as they kissed with sweet exploration.

  It took only a dozen breaths for that sweetness to blaze into hot tongues, eager hands, and wildfire. It was time to suggest they not waste this nakedness standing up when it would be even more useful when they were lying down.

  Before she spoke, he scooped her up. One powerful arm curved around her ribs while the other supported her bare thighs, causing liquid heat to flow in hidden places.

  While depositing her on the bed, he managed to sweep the covers back so she lay on the softly worn sheets. She tried to draw him down, but he pushed her arms away. “I’m ravenous,” he said, his gaze intense. “So I will dine on you before the final course.”

  He braced himself above her so his chest and thighs and . . . and maleness were just barely touching her, with insanely erotic results. Then he licked her ear as she’d done to him earlier. As she gasped, his mouth moved to her throat. She writhed against him, half mad with wanting more.

  His mouth moved down her body, suckling her breasts. She buried her fingers in his softly waving hair. She hardly noticed the slow stroke of his hand up her thigh until his fingers slipped into moist, secret welcome.

  As she teetered on the verge of shattering, he trailed kisses down her torso. His tongue lapping her navel, his lips across her belly . . .

  Merciful heaven! When the heat of his skilled mouth and tongue covered the incredibly sensitive center of sensation between her legs, she exploded uncontrollably. Her hips thrashed and her nails bit against his skull. He stifled her shrie
k by locking a hard hand over her mouth as she splintered into mindless rapture.

  As awareness gradually returned, he raised himself and moved between her knees. Entering her was a smooth act of possession, apart from a sharp moment of resistance before they were united in the ultimate intimacy. She opened dazed eyes to see surprise in his face. That vanished when she rocked against him, driving him deeper, filling her and creating wholly new sensations.

  Her movement triggered a climax as swift and rapturous as hers had been, and brought her to another culmination. He groaned helplessly, thrusting again and again until their mutual paroxysms faded. She squeezed her eyes shut, reveling in the rich scents of sex and the peace that lay beyond the storm.

  She had dreamed of this, and Damian Mackenzie had surpassed her dreams.

  Chapter 24

  Shaken in every particle of his being, Mac barely managed to roll onto his side so he wouldn’t crush Kiri. Even allowing for his three years of celibacy, this was passion and fulfillment beyond his imagination.

  They were sharing a pillow, allowing him to admire the elegant line of her profile. His heart clutched when he saw slow tears seeping from her closed eyes. Dear God, had he made another disastrous mistake where a woman was concerned? She’d seemed to want this as much as he.

  Concerned, he asked, “Kiri, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  That triggered a thought that he put aside when she opened her eyes and gave him a glorious smile. “Not sad tears. Happy tears.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Even so, they’re unnerving.” He propped his head on his hand and studied her as he drew the covers over them. The fire wasn’t enough to warm the room now that they no longer created their own heat.

  He returned to that earlier thought, mentally replaying every vivid instant of their encounter. Disbelieving, he said, “I’m no expert on such things, but . . . I would have thought you were a virgin. But you said you weren’t?”

  “I said I wasn’t an innocent.” She held his gaze steadily. “But technically I was a virgin, I suppose.”