Rafael rose to his feet. “We will be on watch. For now, I think we should see the women safely to their rooms.”
Adrian’s fingers curled around Angeline’s elbow. As he ushered her up the stairs to their room, he moved closer to her side. The thought that one man could cause so much devastation for so many infuriated her.
After they crossed the threshold of their bedchamber, she rounded on him. “I’ve joked with you about my killing Malcolm, but I am not teasing now. If I have the opportunity to end this, I will, Adrian. That man stole your life, the one you should have had in England, and now threatens this one.”
She rested her hands on his arms and gazed up at him. “You said it yourself, he will kill whomever he believes stands in his way. I will not have my child grow up without its father.”
She placed her fingers over his lips before he could speak. “Although each and every one of you is able to end this, I am the one he will allow close enough to see it done. I am the one he would least expect.” Angeline waited for the inevitable explosion.
“If you’re finished shushing me, I would like to respond.”
The gentle tone of his voice might have fooled her into relaxing, if she hadn’t seen the muscle twitch in his jaw and anger flash in his eyes.
She raised her chin. “You must see this is the most logical way—”
“Like bloody damn hell it is,” he stated firmly. Before she could react, he scooped her up in his arms and dumped her in the middle of the bed. She rolled to the side and grabbed the edge of the mattress in an attempt to pull herself off the side furthest from him. His hands clamped around her ankles and jerked her back to the middle, then flipped her over on her back in a tangle of skirts and legs.
He leaned over her and pointed a finger at her, nearly touching her nose. “Do not move. If you do, I swear I’ll turn you over my knee and paddle you. Perhaps if William had done so, you wouldn’t be such a headstrong hoyden now.”
She sat up and glared at him. “You wouldn’t.”
Adrian shed his coat and waistcoat, reached for his cravat, and tugged the starched linen off in one quick jerk. “Do you test me?”
“No.” She had no doubts he would make good on his threat. “What are you doing?” She eyed him.
Opening the top few buttons on his shirt, he pulled the article of clothing off over his head, threw the now rumpled garment across the room, and sat on the edge of the bed to tug at his boots.
Distracted, Angeline watched the play of muscles move under the smooth skin of his back. Her fingers itched to touch him.
He scowled at her over his shoulder. “What am I doing? I should think it damned obvious. You, on the other hand, haven’t a clue as to what you’re playing at.” He was back on his feet, facing her, hands braced on his lean hips. “You think you can control a madman?” He shook his head. “Not bloody likely. He’s capable of things you can’t begin to imagine.”
She listened to Adrian’s warning, knew he was right as she recalled all she had seen and learned of Malcolm’s treatment of women. She’d witnessed firsthand his cruelty. But even as her mind recognized the truth and recoiled in fear at what he said, her body reacted in a different way to Adrian as he shed his clothing.
She was a wanton. It was the only way to explain the desire washing through her. He was all muscle and sun-kissed skin. Heat pooled in her belly and her thighs began to tingle. She wanted to run her hands over him, to touch and kiss him—to feel him inside her. Angeline moved restlessly, running her tongue over suddenly dry lips.
At the sight of her pink tongue, Adrian swallowed, hard. Desire, hot and intense, swept through him. As the bleak tightness that had gripped his chest at her announcement eased, he breathed in deeply. Her gaze skimmed over him like a caress, one he felt to his bones. His body hardened alarmingly.
He reached for the buttons on his trousers as she stirred, her hands opening and closing on the counterpane. Although he’d witnessed countless women undress, he’d never had one observe him so acutely.
Adrian flipped open the placket on his trousers and tugged them off, leaving only his drawers.
Her gaze dropped to his manhood, already straining against the soft linen. She came up on her knees and reached for him.
He stilled her movement. “Don’t you think you should undress?” He released her hands and moved to the chair in the corner.
Adrian knew her body, knew it as well as he knew his own, and never grew tired of admiring her.
“I, uh, of course.” Angeline slid off the bed. “Are you going to just sit there?”
“Yes.” He leaned back, placing his hands on the arms of the chair.
She frowned. “Well, are you going to turn down the lamp?”
He shook his head slowly.
Angeline made an odd noise in her throat. She reached behind her to open the back of the gown. Then a smile played at the corner of her mouth. She half turned, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes as she peeked over her shoulder at him, then nudged the gown from her shoulder to reveal creamy white skin. His breath hitched in his throat.
Her long lashes fluttered and held him in thrall, this woman whose eyes had always mesmerized him. Her slender fingers played over the gown where it covered her other shoulder. Little by little, inch-by-inch, she edged the gown off to let it fall and pool at her feet.
Adrian’s body tightened uncomfortably. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.
Within seconds, she undid the ribbons of her petticoats and they joined the pile on the floor. Slowly, she faced him.
Adrian gazed, transfixed, as she stepped out of the clothing and kicked them to the side. She stood in front of him, feet spread, hands on hips, and surveyed him. He wanted her, and she knew it, the minx. She knew what effect she had on him.
He could see her rosy nipples and the dark patch at the apex of her thighs through the thin material of her shift. As she lifted her arms to release her long braid, her lacy garter peeked beneath the edge of her shift. Like a black, silky veil, her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back. Then she swung her head, sending the long mass swirling around her. His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribs.
She was what every man dreamed of touching, of possessing, and she was his. Again, her eyes met his, and the corners of her lips lifted in a sensual invitation. She raised her shift and placed her foot on the edge of the chair by his leg, then fingered the ribbon on the garter.
He managed a strangled, “Leave it” before he pushed up from the chair and reached for her.
The intoxicating scent of rose and woman filled his senses as he curved one arm around her, lifted, and sat her on the edge of the bed. She leaned back on her arms and looked at him with trusting eyes.
Adrian lifted one slender foot and removed her slipper. She uttered an almost cat-like purr as he pressed his thumb into the arch and ball of her foot, and her body stretched sensuously. He repeated the same ministrations with the other foot.
“That feels wonderful.”
“There are other things that will feel even better.” Adrian ran his hand up her calf to her knee and tugged the ribbon on her garter loose. With the tips of his fingers, he rolled the sheer stocking down. Her breathing changed. She moved restlessly, her gaze followed the movement of his hands. He did the same to her other leg, removing the stocking in a long, slow sweep of his fingers.
He dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed. When he pressed his mouth to the inside of her thigh, she jerked and tensed.
“Relax.” He stroked the inside of her thighs with his thumbs, and she made a little inarticulate sound in her throat. Then her hips lifted. “Easy, my sweet.”
“You’re teasing me.” Her breathless voice held the slight edge of impatience. He bit back a smile.
“What would you like? This?” He slid his hands up to the juncture of her thighs, brushing his knuckle over the damp curls.
With an appreciative moan, she opened her le
gs for him. He eased two fingers inside her heated sheath.
“Yes.” She drew the word out in a long sigh. Adrian nipped the inside of her thigh, then sucked as he moved his fingers inside her in a steady rhythm. Whimpering, she writhed against his hand. He found the tight bud with his thumb and pressed. Swirled. When she tightened around his fingers, he pressed deeper.
She shuddered and arched, her body quaking as her climax took her. He withdrew his fingers and spread her legs further apart. “Did those books mention a man tasting a woman?”
“Wha-a-t? Adrian, no—oh.” She bucked as his mouth covered her. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, grasped her hips to hold her steady as his mouth replaced his fingers and feasted. She tasted of honey and tart apples.
He lifted his head to see her face. In a husky voice asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes—no.” She reached for his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled and used his tongue and teeth on her delicate skin. Her body twisted; her breath came in gasps. She dug her fingers into his hair and held him to her. When her climax crashed over her, she made a soft, mewling sound, and shattered.
Adrian removed his drawers, tilted her hips to receive him, and with one thrust, sheathed himself deep inside her. He could feel the contractions from her last climax and they almost pulled him over the edge. As he continued to thrust his swollen member inside her, she lifted her knees and wrapped her legs around him, holding him tighter. She moaned and angled her body to take him deeper.
“More, Adrian,” she pleaded.
He’d had many women, but never one that could undo him like Angeline. He gritted his teeth against his own release and continued the rhythm until the first tremors began again inside her, moving along his manhood in tiny, convulsive jerks. His body ached with the need for release. He thrust hard and stopped, then covered her mouth with his own as she cried out. He thrust twice more and spilled inside her, burying his face in the side of her neck to muffle his own sound of release.
I will never have enough of you.
Slumped over her, braced on his forearms, he tried to gather his wits as he sucked air into his lungs. Once able to move, he withdrew and gazed down at her passion-damp body.
“Come, Angel. Let’s tuck you in bed.” He positioned her to lie more fully on the bed before he slid in beside her, reached for the thick quilt, and flipped it over both of themWith his arm beneath her head, he folded her close to his side. She snuggled against him, one slender leg curving over his thighs.
Adrian laid a protective hand on her belly. “I want you to promise not to see Malcolm. If you place yourself in danger, and fail, we both lose. And if he knows you’re with child, he can, and will, harm both you and our baby.” He raised her chin and made her look at him. “Do you promise?”
Her lashes fluttered and her lids lifted. “Yes. I promise.” She stretched and placed her hand on his chest, dropping a kiss on the side of his neck.
“One more thing.” He kissed her temple.
“What’s that?” she mumbled.
“Come for me one more time,” he whispered against her ear.
“Can’t.” She snuggled closer.
“Of course you can, sweetheart.” He slipped his hand between her thighs and heard her gasp.
“Beast,” she said with a sigh.
Chapter 35
Angeline gazed through the coach window as the large home belonging to her mother’s family came into view. Filled with anxiety, and the ever-present feeling of anger, she bit her lip and let the emotions wash over her.
An intricate letter ‘C’ held place of prominence on the wrought-iron gate guarding the entrance to Hacienda Cordova. The two-story adobe structure, painted the color of ripe apricots, had two visible wings angling back from the main house. A twining rose, its bright yellow blossoms open to the afternoon sun, trailed along the second-story balcony railing. Terracotta clay shingles, darker in color than the house itself, covered the expansive roof. Flowering bougainvillea climbed trellises spaced along the front veranda.
“Oh, my lady, look at those birds! I’ve never seen the like.” Shirley pointed to a parterre at the side of the house.
Penelope’s eyes widened at the sight of the fanciful birds. “I’ve seen pictures of them. The brightly colored ones, with what resembles eyes painted on their tail feathers, are peacocks. The others are peahens.”
As the coach pulled to a rocking stop in front of the two, heavily carved front doors, they swung open and a tall, slender woman emerged. Her raven-black hair, secured at her nape with a turquoise and silver comb, held only a wisp of gray at the temples. Angeline’s first impression was one of absolute composure, until her gaze dropped to the handkerchief the woman twisted in her hands.
Rafael pulled the coach door open. After letting down the steps, he offered Angeline his hand. “Come, there is someone I wish you to meet. She has waited a long time for this.”
When Angeline descended, the woman gasped and lifted the handkerchief to her mouth. Her eyes widened as Rafael led Angeline forward.
After placing a kiss on the woman’s cheek, Rafael held out his arm to include Angeline.
“Angelina, I would like you to meet Dona Maria Elaina Cordova—your grandmother. Mother, this is your granddaughter.”
The two women observed one another. Neither moved or spoke. Finally, Dona Maria framed Angeline’s face in her hands.
“Oh, my sweet child.” She leaned forward to place a kiss on Angeline’s cheek. “I thought for one moment I was seeing my lovely Franchesca again.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Dona Maria.” Angeline gestured to Adrian. “I would like to present Lord Adrian Spencer, the Earl of Windsford. My husband.”
The older woman’s astute gaze moved to Adrian. Her eyes roamed his face for a moment. “Lord Windsford, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Please, call me Adrian.” He motioned for the others to join them. “We have friends with us.”
One by one they met the matriarch of the Cordova family. When Adrian introduced Shirley and Frank, Maria raised an eyebrow as if confused at the informality with servants, but inclined her head graciously.
“Please, come in, relax, and have some refreshments. The journey from town can be quite dusty this time of year.”
Rafael and Esteban had gone ahead to see their father. Everyone else followed Maria inside. Light flooded the room through large windows running the entire length of one wall. A fire burned warmly in the fireplace. The hearth and surround were covered in brightly painted ceramic tiles. Although the winter seemed milder in Spain, there was still a chill in the air.
Maria’s gaze settled on the locket Angeline wore. “Franchesca kept it.” She reached out to gently touch the necklace. “I did not expect to see this locket again. This was a gift to your mother, as it once was to me. Don Fernando gave it to me upon our marriage, and we bequeathed it to Franchesca on her wedding day.”
“I received the locket only a few short months ago. I treasure the necklace as having been my mother’s. I had no idea it had also been yours.” A tear slipped down Angeline’s cheek as she thought of all that had been lost.
Maria stretched out a hand to her. “Please forgive me if I have caused you distress. That was not my intent. I know this must be difficult.”
Angeline moved closer to Adrian’s side. She couldn’t afford to care about, or indulge in, emotions that might only lead to more pain. Until she knew what had truly transpired all those years ago, she had to keep an emotional distance.
With a sigh, Maria dropped her hand and addressed the others. “I can see this is hard for everyone. Angelina is fortunate to have friends such as you.”
Michael met the older woman’s gaze. “We all care a great deal for her, and don’t want to see her hurt.”
“So I see. I assure you, as her family we would not wish that, either.”
Penelope spoke up. “With all that’s happened, it’s quite logical we w
ould be protective.”
Maria lifted a brow in question. “You refer to the death of her father?”
Adrian placed a protective arm around Angeline. “His unfortunate demise is only one of many things. This trip was made quickly, as your sons stressed the urgency of it.”
Maria tilted her head, sent him a questioning look. “You are right, of course. Rosa will show you to your rooms and then you shall meet Fernando. Perhaps we might talk later?”
Flames danced in the brightly tiled fireplace in the room she and Adrian were to share.
Angeline raised her eyes to Shirley. “When I look at Dona Maria, all I can visualize is a woman who let her child go and did not fight for her. I’m angry at what they did to my mother. All I want to hear is their apology.”
“I don’t understand their way of thinking either, and I wouldn’t let one of my own just go off, but I’ve known many a woman who couldn’t go against her husband.” Shirley withdrew a gown from the trunk and shook it out.
“We’re here, now. You can see Don Fernando, say your piece, and move on.” Shirley hung the gown in the wardrobe. “But, my lady, there are always two sides to everything.”
At a light tap on the door, Shirley answered it. She stepped aside for Penelope to enter.
“How are you?” Penelope sat beside Angeline. “This must be very difficult, but your grandmother seems truly happy to see you.”
“To be fair, this has to be difficult for her as well,” Angeline replied. She closed her eyes and leaned back, fighting nausea.
“What is it?” Shirley asked. “Is it the wound?”
“No.” Angeline placed her hand on her belly. “The baby.”
Rafael crossed the drawing room as Angeline, Penelope, and Shirley appeared. “I hope all is to your liking.” He smiled a welcome to the three women. “If there is anything you need, please let Rosa know and she will see to it.”
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