Awashed in pleasure, Aidan’s eyes closed so he might enjoy the mounting frenzy. The sensations thundered through him as he pushed past the wall with one hard thrust. “Mary,” he chanted in slow releases of ecstasy. The frenzy grew. Her body rubbed against his turgid flesh. His mouth sought hers, only releasing her when rewarded with a heated moan. Aidan gritted his teeth and increased his pace. When Mary joined him in the blending of their bodies, a shudder wracked him as his seed exploded deep inside her. The air filled with the sound of raspy mews. She spasmed against his heat, and Aidan was at peace with a beautiful woman. He collapsed upon her, his breathing erratic, but Aidan had the oddest feeling he had finally come home.
*
Mercy clung to him with every ounce of strength remaining within her bones. She had understood the mechanics of what would occur between them, but she had held no concept of the intense emotional connection, which would tie her to him forever. His possessiveness had thrilled her. Being claimed by Aidan Kimbolt was an honor indeed. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might explode.
Yet, a small part of her instantly regretted their joining. Mercy had gone to his room because she loved Lord Lexford more than words could describe, and it was her intention to know him once before she departed Lexington Arms. However, His Lordship would never reciprocate. He did not think upon her as she did him. The viscount had freely shared his body–had whispered words of desire in her ear, but words of affection remained unsaid.
“God!” he groaned while air slowly seeped into her lungs. Awareness returned as he buried his head into the curve of Mercy’s neck. Finally, the viscount rolled to his side taking her with him. He wrapped her into his embrace and pulled the bed linens over them. She rested her head upon his shoulder. He smoothed one hand across her hair as he slipped into the stupor of sleep. Mercy remained beside him, listening to the return of the steady beat of his heart. If she could remain so always, she would never complain.
His Lordship’s breathing indicated his body meant to know sleep. Mercy settled along the length of him. When Lord Lexford finally accepted the exhaustion, which crept through his bones, she would return to her quarters, gather her belongings, and steal out into the night’s darkness. His fingertips sent heat up and down Mercy’s arms. “I know,” the viscount said sleepily, “Mary Purefoy is not your real name. Will you not trust me with your identity?”
Mercy had feared this moment from the day she had crossed Lord Lexford’s threshold. The letter she had left on her bureau addressed to him would explain everything, so she said, “It is a long complicated story, my Lord. We shall speak of it in detail upon the morrow.”
He kissed her forehead. “I will permit you your secrets for a few hours more, but know I mean to have the truth from you.”
*
Mercy had waited until His Lordship’s breathing had indicated the soundness of his sleep before she had pried herself from his grasp. Dressing quickly, she had exited his suite through Lord Lexford’s dressing room. She did not chance releasing the exterior door’s lock in fear of waking him. Before going to his room, she had arranged her gown and cloak and had packed her bag. Mercy had taken only the gowns she had brought with her from Lancashire–none of what the viscount had purchased for her, other than the music box. She had saved the coins Mr. Hill had given her, and Mercy meant to purchase passage to London.
“Running away?” a familiar male voice said as she slipped into the darkness of the kitchen’s garden.
Mercy spun around to find Lucifer Hill sitting upon a small bench. “My Goodness!” she gasped. “You gave me quite a fright.” Her hand fluttered at her throat.
“You did not answer my question,” Mr. Hill said stubbornly. “It is a regrettable habit, Miss Purefoy.”
Mercy’s shoulders shifted in defiance. “I am leaving; it is time, Mr. Hill.”
The man stood to tower over her, but Mercy held her ground. “Without a proper farewell to either me or His Lordship? Do we mean so little to you?”
Mercy glanced lovingly at the house behind her. “You know that is not true. I have seen His Lordship, and I have left a proper note for both you and him.”
“Yet, at this moment, Lord Lexford knows nothing of your flight?”
Mercy dropped her eyes in sorrow. “It would make little difference; it is better this way. Those from whom I sought release have followed me to Cheshire.”
Mr. Hill caught her arm. “Lord Lexford and I would protect you if you require a shield.”
Tears rolled down Mercy’s cheeks. Apprehension griped her. “I cannot ask either of you to place yourself in danger in my behalf. Besides, there are more devious means to exact revenge on Lord Lexford than to stand in defense of my honor. Some of low connections would claim his good name if I remained at Lexington Arms.”
“Should you not permit the viscount to decide if he wishes to deny the connections?” Mr. Hill reasoned. “I would not imagine His Lordship would turn from whatever scandal you name. I have observed how Viscount Lexford looks upon you. The man cares for you deeply.”
Mercy wished she could be assured of the viscount’s affections, but she had chosen to terminate their relationship. She had shared his bed because she loved him, not because she wished to trap him in marriage; and Mercy held no doubt His Lordship would extend an offer of marriage. He was an honorable man. “I am not worthy of Lord Lexford,” she said simply. “Now, if you will excuse me. I must hurry to catch the coach at the inn.”
Mr. Hill did not release her. “If you are set on leaving, I will take you as far as Warwickhsire. The wagon is loaded with wool. I mean to set out as soon as Deland has the horses to harness.”
Mercy’s heart leapt with pleasure. It would be comforting not to travel alone. The possibility of unscrupulous men upon the journey had frightened her beyond reason, but she said, “Lord Lexford would not approve of your involvement in my departure.”
“I am the one who brought you to Lexford’s notice. I should be the one to see you upon your way.”
Tipping her head to one side, she considered Hill’s offer carefully. Mercy would gladly accept his protection. “I do not wish for the others to know I have departed.”
Mr. Hill nodded his understanding. “Take the lane to just past the gatehouse. I will come for you on the main road.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hill. I pray you shall not regret the gesture.”
*
Aidan rolled over to caress her breast. He had had four hours of sleep, enough for him to desire her again, but she had gone. Aidan frowned as he glanced about his quarters. Even the lady’s clothing had disappeared. He rubbed a dry hand across his face in an effort to clear his thinking; yet, nothing wiped away the memory of burying himself deep within her liquid heat. “So sweet,” he murmured to the empty room.
And she had been. Sweet sensuality and sweet innocence. Just considering her soft moans brought another erection. Aidan understood why she had returned to her room. Miss Purefoy could not be found in his bed; yet, acknowledging the sensibility of the lady’s actions did nothing to relieve his renewed hunger. Aidan buried his nose into the bed linens. The scent of lilacs lingered, and he inhaled deeply. His eyes closed to summon forth another dream of Mary Purefoy. Tomorrow, Aidan would discover her name, and then he would make his addresses. Soon, she would be in his bed every night. And soon the hollow emptiness would no longer well up with guilt for having failed Susan.
*
The sharp knock at his chamber door brought Aidan from a sound sleep. “Who knew?” he thought as he staggered toward the door, after wrapping a robe about his naked body. He thought of the pleasure of having Mary Purefoy beneath him and of finally having a full night’s sleep. “A woman and sleep could be complementary.” An ironic smirk touched his lips as he jerked open the door. “What is amiss?” he growled at his properly clad butler. Aidan realized it must be later than he had anticipated.
Mr. Payne took a reflexive step backward. “A message, Sir.” The man ext
ended a silver salver. “From Sir Carter and delivered by a special courier.”
Aidan swallowed his groan. “When?” he asked distractedly.
“Only moments ago, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Payne. Please tell Mr. Hill I need to speak to him.” Aidan turned toward his quarters.
The butler cleared his throat. “Mr. Hill departed early for Warwick, Sir.”
Aidan scowled. “Of course. I forgot.” He broke the seal and scanned the hastily written note from the baronet. Sir Carter required Aidan’s assistance with a possible lead on the opium line. “Mr. Payne, send Mr. Poley in, and tell Deland I require a horse immediately.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Also, please inform Miss Purefoy I will be away from the estate for several days on urgent business.” Aidan poured water to wash his face.
Mr. Payne bowed. “Yes, Sir. I will make a point of conveying your message as soon as the lady comes down for breakfast.
Aidan shot a quick glance at the clock upon the mantel. It was shortly after nine. He smiled. So the lady had slept longer, as well. Normally, they both had breakfasted by eight and had started their days.
He hated being drawn away without first making his addresses known to the lady, but, hopefully, Miss Purefoy would understand. When he returned, Aidan would arrange a romantic evening to prove his honest regard. He would propose. Although he could not speak of love, Aidan realized he and Miss Purefoy held a deep respect for each other. It was more than many aristocrats possessed in their marriage. It would be enough. He would not risk his heart ever again.
*
Miss Purefoy’s body swayed against his shoulder. She had fallen asleep an hour into their journey. Hill knew he must discover what the lady had planned before he released her to the London coach. By the time he could return to Cheshire to inform Lord Lexford of her direction, Miss Purefoy would have a four day advance on the viscount. Lexford would never find her if Hill could not convince the woman to confide in him.
A deep rut in the road jarred her awake. “Where are we?” Miss Purefoy asked as she stretched her neck and shoulders.
“Nearing the border of Staffordshire,” Hill explained. “I fear with the wagon laden so heavy with wool that our journey will be slower than if you had traveled by coach.”
Miss Purefoy smiled easily. “On the coach, I would have no shoulder to support me. I am quite content, Mr. Hill, for your company, however much time we have remaining.”
Hill studied her countenance. “Are you certain this is the best choice for you and His Lordship? If you fear Lord Lexford’s retribution for the deception we have foisted upon the viscount, I can tell you from experience Viscount Lexford’s temper flares quickly, but it pales just as fast. He will forgive us both once he admits his heart is engaged. Say the word, and I will turn the wagon about. We will be home before nightfall. His Lordship will not complain if I set out on a different day with the wool.” He watched as indecision crossed her expression, but the lady shook off his suggestion.
“You paint a beautiful picture, Mr. Hill, but my betrayal lies deeper than calling myself Mary Purefoy, half sister to Viscount Lexford,” she murmured with definitive regret.
Hill sighed heavily. He nodded his head with forced politeness. “If that is your wish, I will see you safely upon your journey. Lord Lexford would expect nothing less. I thought we might stop at an inn for a bite of breakfast. That is, if you have no objections to being seen with the likes of me.”
His companion smiled warmly. It was the same smile Hill knew had stolen the viscount’s heart. She gave him a knowing look, her sparkling eyes saying more than mere words. The lady’s thoughts rested on Lord Lexford also. She squeezed his hand. “You are my guardian angel, Lucifer Hill. I would be foolish to deny your company.”
Hill directed the horses through a difficult section of the road before saying, “Lord Godown keeps a small hunting lodge on the edge of his property. I have used it often when I am in the area. The marquis regularly restocks the place with food and clean linens. It will mean a shorter day today and a longer one tomorrow, but it will keep us from taking refuge in an unsavory inn. I would not have you exposed to the likes of The Purple Goose. Yet, please know the marquis’s lodge is nothing more than one large room with a lean to behind. I could ask at the main house for sanctuary. Lord Godown has gone to London for his aunt’s engagement party; yet, I am certain his staff could find us appropriate lodging.”
The lady frowned deeply. “I would not wish to involve the marquis in my difficulties. Beyond your loyalty, Lord Lexford speaks of the Earl of Berwick and Lord Godown as his closest friends.” Hill smiled at her diplomacy. He was nothing more than a farmer, who had learned to operate in the world of aristocrats. He had learned much while serving with Viscount Lexford, but Hill held no delusions of his own worth. “We are mature enough to share the shelter of the room without making propriety an issue. I am not so high in the instep to look poorly upon your kindness, Mr. Hill.”
“If Lord Lexford extends his forgiveness, Miss Purefoy,” Hill pleaded. “Please accept the man’s promise and make an honest man of the viscount. Your tenacity is exactly what Lexford requires for his happiness.”
A tear escaped the corner of the lady’s eye. “Your word picture is the perfect portrait upon which to latch my dreams, Mr. Hill. Perfect, indeed.”
Chapter 17
Aidan had spent four days in disguise infiltrating a group, which transported the opium into the various shires. It was the role he had regularly played in the Realm. Aidan assumed many faces and accents to secure information. Those involved in the shipments had seen both Lowery and Swenton so Sir Carter had sent for Aidan. For three days, he had dressed in filthy clothes and had spoken with a Scottish accent. Sir Carter had even arrested Aidan’s “character” as part of the group. Later, if he met any of those involved, Aidan’s “Kell MacLeary” would claim having escaped his gaolers.
He had enjoyed stopping the supply line into his home shire, but Aidan held no delusions of the British government driving opiates from its shores. Most people thought men placing themselves under the power of the opium from the beautiful poppy plant were a problem found exclusively in London’s slews, but the growing use of the drug was everywhere, among the rich and the poor, and the city dwellers, as well as common villagers. The fight would know no end.
Aidan had hoped to arrive home before his household had retired for the evening, but it was near eleven of the clock when he had used his key to enter his home. He was exhausted, but his desire to see Miss Purefoy had guided his thoughts for the past three hours, and he wanted to look upon her countenance before another minute passed. He would not wake her, but Aidan meant to sneak into her room and satisfy his obsession with the woman.
Avoiding the main stairs, he had circled through the servants’ quarters, making his way toward the west wing. He would steal a quick peek and then seek his bed for the evening. Aidan would surprise the lady at breakfast tomorrow.
Quietly easing the servants’ door open, he stepped into the muted light of the passage. Aidan clung to the shadows. He was Lexington Arms’ master, but he would not embarrass Miss Purefoy by permitting others to see him enter the lady’s room. If he were to make Miss Purefoy his wife, Aidan would not have her name defamed by his actions.
“Her name,” he whispered to the stillness. The words brought a new recognition. He must maintain the ruse of their relationship. The realization stayed Aidan’s progress. His household and the neighborhood thought of her as “Mary Purefoy.” Calling the lady by her given name would not be an issue. He could claim “Mary” as the lady’s middle name or pet name.
“Yet, how will the banns be called?” he reasoned. Aidan had not considered the ramifications of his decision to make the woman his wife. “A special license will be required and in another parish.”
He slid down the wall to sit upon the floor. There were so many issues to which he had never given reflection. How had he not th
ought this through before he became involved with the woman? “Because your lust has controlled your motives.” He chastised himself for his foolish lack of forethought. It was certainly not characteristic of him. True. He often walked about with his heart upon his sleeve, but his logic had always prevailed until he met Miss Purefoy. “The lady has you bamboozled,” he said ironically.
Aidan circled his legs with his arms and rested his forehead on his knees. His chest contracted. He wondered how things might have played differently. If he made the lady his wife, he would become part of the perfidy, and he was not certain he cared to begin his new life in a bed of lies. In reality, he knew not the depth of the woman’s deceit. “What if Miss Purefoy was another Doña Marina or like Samson’s Delilah? The possibility existed. Aidan knew only of her assuming another’s name. What if she had come to Lexington Arms to learn his secrets? Had not all of the unusual happenings of late begun after Miss Purefoy’s arrival?
What was he to do? Not an hour passed in which Miss Purefoy was not in his thoughts. If he looked at a new horse to add to his stable, he also examined the mares in hopes of finding a horse with a personality Mary might enjoy. If he recorded items into his expenditure ledger, Aidan would think on the role Miss Purefoy played in turning his once stale existence into something exciting. And he could not shake the image of Mary writhing in pleasure beneath him; yet, it was folly to permit his heart its reins.
His mind might not recall what happened with Susan’s depressed state, but it knew the scent of Mary Purefoy as if God had ingrained her mark on him. Aidan knew the taste of her lips and the feel of her body clinging to him. Tight and hot. And how perfect it felt to be deeply embedded in her.
Just the thought of Mary Purefoy erased all the evils in Aidan’s world. He would never forget her, and he could certainly not ignore the fact he had taken the woman’s virginity. He had vowed to keep his distance, but Miss Purefoy had overwhelmed his resistance. He had made the mistake of allowing her into his heart. God! Did he love her? He had never thought to love again.
Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy Page 28