Chapter Eleven
Dalton found Regina at the far end of the garden. She had reached to grasp a tree limb and was struggling to pull herself up. Her petticoats tangled with her legs, and she couldn’t quite gain a foothold.
He strode across the gravel pathway and asked, ‘Do you need help?’
‘I never expected tree-climbing to be this difficult,’ she admitted. ‘I really should have borrowed a pair of trousers from the stable lad.’
Dalton thought about having a pair made for her. It was not ladylike, aye, but he very much wanted to see the rounded curve of her backside in the trousers. And then he could remove them later.
He came closer to the tree and gathered her into his arms. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked. In answer to her question, he lifted her high until she could grasp the thick branch and pull herself over. Regina was laughing as she struggled, but she managed to take a seat. ‘Thank you for your help.’
Dalton climbed up after her, and he chose the branch next to hers. ‘As trees go, the one you chose wasn’t so bad.’
‘I don’t think it’s in any danger of breaking.’ She tried to adjust her skirts and held on to the tree trunk.
Dalton climbed nearer and stood on a branch below hers. He rested both hands on either side of the tree, trapping her in his embrace. Regina touched his hair, and he murmured in a low voice, ‘Did you enjoy last night?’
‘Yes.’ Her arms wound around his neck, and he captured her lips, kissing her hard. She returned the kiss, and he wanted to coax her into more.
‘Thank you for not sending my father away,’ she whispered. ‘He’s made so many mistakes, but I don’t want him to go to prison.’
Dalton touched a strand of her hair and slid it behind one ear. ‘I will protect you, and your family, Regina.’ He stole another kiss and added, ‘But I need to talk to you about the Bow Street Runner.’
He didn’t blame Lord Havershire, if he had indeed arranged for Mallencourt’s death. But he now understood why the blackmailer was such a grave problem. ‘I received a letter from the Runner this morning. He’s travelling here to speak with us.’
Her face paled, and she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to speak to him. If he’s caught the blackmailer, that’s good, but why would he come here?’
‘He may need you to testify in court against the blackmailer. I imagine that’s all it is.’
But Regina was already climbing down from the tree. ‘I don’t want to see him, Dalton.’ She appeared unsettled, and he guessed it was because she was afraid of what the Runner had learned.
‘Then perhaps he could speak with your father. We have to put an end to the blackmail.’ He wanted Regina to know that he would do anything to make her feel safe again. Only after she laid her fears to rest, could she look towards a future with him.
‘No!’ She let go of the branch and dropped the short distance to the ground. ‘I’m not about to subject Papa to an interrogation. Not after what’s happened with Miss Goodson. And he’s very ill right now.’ Her voice was tremulous, and Dalton climbed down to walk with her.
‘It will be all right,’ he said. The man had claimed that it was necessary to speak with Regina, and Dalton guessed it was because she could answer questions about the blackmail notes. But she was more fearful of him speaking to her father—likely to protect him.
‘Keep him away from me,’ she insisted. ‘Don’t let him come to Scotland.’
It was too late to send the man away, for he would arrive in a day or two. ‘He is already on his way,’ he admitted.
With that, she hurried away from him, making him wish he’d never told her. But although the Runner was coming here, he had promised Regina that he would put an end to the blackmail.
And he intended to see it through.
* * *
Regina put a leather lead on her dog, Arthur, and hurried down the pathway leading from the estate. Her emotions gathered up in a tight ball, and she was holding back tears. She knew Dalton believed he was helping her, but she was terrified that the Bow Street Runner had learned the truth about Lord Mallencourt’s death.
She couldn’t imagine any other reason why he would come to Scotland. If the Runner had merely learned the identity of the blackmailer, he would have sent a letter about the arrest. There was no need for him to come here, unless he had learned something more.
Arthur stopped to sniff the ground, and Regina’s fragile hold on the tears broke free. She let herself cry as she continued walking. But soon enough, she saw Dalton’s grandfather standing beside a stone wall. She wiped her tears away and approached him, wondering if he was lost.
‘Good afternoon, Lord Cairnross,’ she said. ‘Have you come to pay a call upon Dalton?’
The old man appeared confused for a moment. ‘Dalton,’ he repeated. ‘Nay, I’ve come to see Brandon.’
Regina’s heart sank, for she realised the earl was still caught up in the past. There was no sense in telling him that Brandon was dead. Instead, she drew closer and asked, ‘Would you like to walk with me?’
He brightened at that and offered his arm. ‘I should always be glad to escort a bonny lass,’ he answered. ‘Especially on a day as fine as this one.’
‘Why have you come to see Brandon?’ she asked.
‘He will be needing my instruction on how to manage the estate,’ the earl answered. ‘Such a hard-working, responsible lad he is.’ His smile deepened, and he asked, ‘Has Brandon begun to court you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but Dalton has.’
The earl laughed heartily. ‘Dalton is still very young. You’ll have to wait a few years for him to grow up. But even when he does, Dalton is a wild one. His parents have had their fill of him.’
She wasn’t entirely surprised, but she saw an opportunity to learn more about her almost-husband. ‘Why? What has he done?’
Lord Cairnross’s mood shifted, and his smile faded. Regina waited for him to speak, and when he did not, she asked again, ‘My lord, what happened with Dalton?’
The older man patted her hand and led her back into the garden. ‘He’s a lost soul, that one is. Mark my words, he’ll ne’er forgive himself. I can’t say if his father will, either.’
It seemed that his thoughts had shifted back to the present, for he was speaking of Brandon’s death. Was that the reason why Dalton had felt abandoned by his family? Did they truly believe that he had caused his brother’s death? He had blamed himself before, but she hadn’t wanted to dwell on it. His pain had evoked memories of the lonely adolescent boy on the day his brother had been buried. She didn’t like seeing Dalton in pain.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Regina murmured. ‘And there is more to Dalton than people see.’
The earl sobered. ‘But you see it, don’t you lass?’ His expression shifted into sadness.
She nodded and took his hand in hers. ‘I know you and your family grieve the loss of Brandon. But Dalton has done everything he can to take care of Cairnross and his father’s estates. He is a good man, and no one should blame him for a tragedy that happened in the past.’
The earl squeezed her palm. There was a fleeting moment of understanding before he turned and walked back towards his house. Regina followed him at a slow pace until she saw that he had made it back safely. But his remarks made her wonder about Dalton’s family. His mother and brother were dead, and she had never even met his father.
Her heart ached for Dalton, and she continued walking along the path. While she knew that he wanted to help her overcome her past, she didn’t want to entangle him in danger.
The arrival of the Bow Street Runner would inevitably reveal secrets she didn’t want her husband to know. She stopped to look back at the house, wondering if she should even go through with a true marriage. She had told her father she intended to do so, but now, she wondered if that was wise. At least now, Dalton sti
ll had his freedom. If the worst happened, and the truth was revealed, she could know that he was safe and unharmed.
She passed by the tree she had climbed earlier, and the sight of it only conjured memories of his embrace. She had loved his kiss, loved the way he needed her touch.
She loved him.
Regina closed her eyes, and she could hardly bear the storm of emotion pouring into her heart.
You cannot marry him, her head warned. When he learns the truth, he will despise your family. Give him the chance to walk away.
But selfishly, she wanted a few nights with him. She wanted to overcome her fears and give Dalton her innocence, as penance for what she had to do next—leave him.
Likely, it would hurt, and there was a chance the old memories would suffocate her...but she was willing to take the risk for Dalton’s sake.
She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. Tonight, then. She would go to him and push away the darker memories of her past. In doing so, she would reclaim the life she’d wanted, spending these last few days showing him how much she loved him.
And when the Bow Street Runner arrived, she would take her father and go.
* * *
It was late at night when his door opened. Regina stood at the entrance, her hair down around her shoulders. ‘May I come in?’ she asked.
The sight of her warmed him. ‘You never have to ask,’ he answered. ‘You may come and sleep beside me every night if you wish.’ Though he didn’t believe that was why she was here, he wanted her to know that she was always welcome.
She blushed and closed the door behind her. But instead of coming to the bed, she sat down in a chair beside the fire. It was dying down, and he took a poker to revive the flames.
‘I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier,’ she said. ‘It’s just that...these days with you have been so good, I didn’t want to think about the past. I didn’t want the Bow Street Runner to ruin everything.’
‘I won’t let that happen,’ he promised. But even so, her face held doubts, as if she believed he might change his mind. Despite her confession about Mallencourt’s death, he sensed a reserve, as if she had not told him everything. Likely it was meant to protect her father—but now was not the time to speak of it.
‘Thank you for taking my father in,’ she continued. ‘And if I didn’t say it before, I am also thankful that you married me in London. You turned an awful day into something wonderful.’
Dalton came to sit across from her in the opposite chair. Though he didn’t truly consider it a choice, she’d needed his help. ‘Of course.’ He set the poker aside and regarded her. She appeared nervous, and he wondered if she wanted to talk or whether she wanted comfort.
She answered his unspoken question when she stood from her chair and approached him. Then she knelt down and put her arms around his waist. Her offering deepened his desire until he was fighting the urge to claim her. ‘Dalton,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to think about the past any more. I only want to enjoy this time with you.’
God, yes. Her words were like a flame touched to oil. But he knew he had to be so careful, to coax her gently so she would not be afraid.
‘Come here,’ he murmured, lifting her to sit on his lap. Her skin allured him with the faint scent of flowers. His body was aching with raw lust, but he fought it back. She needed tenderness, not conquest. She leaned in to kiss him, and he took her mouth, returning the affection and sliding his tongue over the seam of her lips.
It was all he could do not to carry her off to bed. His heart was roaring in his chest, and as her tongue met his, he grew rock hard. The more she kissed him, the more he started losing control. He needed a moment to gain command of himself, and he pulled back.
‘May I undress you?’ he asked softly.
She nodded, her eyes wide in the firelight. He helped her to stand and then slid her wrapper from her shoulders. Her nightdress was of the finest linen, and he could see the curve of her breasts beneath it. He led her to the bed and bade her to sit down. Then he knelt before her, as if to worship.
‘Do you want me to remove your gown, or would you like to take it off?’ He wanted her to have the choice, to feel as if she held power over him.
‘I want you to do it,’ she breathed.
Dalton reached for the buttons, unfastening them one by one. He savoured the moment, revealing her bare flesh slowly. Then he reached for the hem of her gown and eased it higher. She stood from the bed, and as he lifted it, his palms caressed her thighs and hips. She closed her eyes at the contact, but it did not seem that she was afraid. His hands lingered upon her waist, and then when he removed the nightdress, he revealed her naked body. Her skin was golden in the firelight, and he caught his breath. Her breasts were slightly larger than his hands, and her waist dipped in before it curved back to her hips.
‘You are beautiful, Regina. I could stand and look at you for the rest of my life.’ He took her hands, drinking in the sight of her. Then he brought her hands to his shirt buttons and waited.
She seemed shy, but slowly, she unfastened the three buttons before lifting his shirt over his head. Her gaze fixed upon his chest, and he brought her hands to his heart. ‘You can touch me if you want to.’
Tentatively, her fingers moved over his chest, and she traced the outline of his pectoral muscle. ‘Your skin is so warm.’
He inhaled at her touch and guided her hands to his trousers. ‘Undress me, Regina.’
She appeared hesitant again, but he waited for her to unfasten the buttons. Her fingers brushed against his hard length, and he bit back a groan.
Regina stopped instantly. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No. It’s just that I want you so badly. I need your touch.’
She waited a moment and then removed his trousers, followed by his small clothes. Now that he was naked, he sensed her fears rising. ‘It’s all right, Regina. If you need me to stop at any time, I will.’
She nodded but brought her hands back to his chest. It seemed that she was uncertain about what to do, so he reassured her. ‘Touch me any way you want to.’
‘I don’t know what you like,’ she admitted.
‘I like your hands upon me in any way that pleases you.’
While she touched his chest, he ran his fingertip along the curve of her breast, circling slowly until he reached the puckered nipple. ‘You seem a little cold.’ He teased the tip, and she jolted.
‘They do call me the Lady of Ice,’ she murmured.
‘Then I’ll have to set you on fire.’ He took her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue until she gripped his shoulders and arched back. His hands moved down to cup her bottom, and he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down. Then he moved on his side, drawing her leg over his hip.
‘Do you still want this?’
* * *
Regina could scarcely breathe. But she wanted this night with Dalton, to drive away her demons and to give him something of herself.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. Her voice was trembling, and her fears seemed to double.
But instead, he drew her hand to his manhood. In turn, he rested his fingertips against her intimate curls. ‘Then touch me. And I will do the same to you.’
‘I thought—’ Her words broke off when his thumb began to caress her. He seemed to know her secret places, and he knew just how to invoke pleasure.
‘You thought what?’ Again, he circled slowly, and a spiral of white-hot need gathered between her legs. She was rising to him, pressing back as he stroked.
‘I thought you would be inside me now.’
He laughed softly, and his voice was dark, filled with promise. ‘Later, darling. For now, I want to warm you until your body craves mine.’
He slid two fingers inside her, and she was shocked at how easily her body accepted hi
m. He kissed her breast, suckling gently as he moved his hand in rhythm. She hardly recognised the noise that came from her mouth when he found the sweet spot inside her. Her body welcomed his touch, and she touched his velvet shaft as he stroked her. They moved together, and as he invaded and withdrew, she moved her hand upon his hard length. She was startled when a bead of fluid emerged from the tip of him, and she caressed it with her thumb.
Dalton growled and caught her hand. ‘If you keep doing that, our night together will be entirely too short.’ Then he pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and knelt down.
‘I want to taste you, Regina,’ he said, kissing her inner thigh. She nearly bolted upright when he parted her curls and licked her intimately. Dear God, his tongue. He explored her sensitive flesh, dipping softly against her wetness. Her hands dug into the coverlet, and she keened a sobbing cry when he began to stroke her nodule with his tongue. It was gentle, and yet, the pressure made her clench her inner muscles, wanting so much more.
‘Dalton, I can’t,’ she breathed. ‘Please... I need you.’
But he ignored her, working her with his mouth and suckling against her until she seized up and arched her back. The shattering pleasure rained over her, leaving her helpless except to enjoy the fierce release that erupted. She was so wet, needing his body inside hers. But he seemed unwilling to claim her, as if he didn’t want to hurt her.
Regina sat up and took his head in her hands. ‘Lie down on the bed,’ she commanded. ‘It’s my turn.’
He stood, his erection raging as he lay back. She leaned down and discovered the pleasure of touching him. He was at her mercy as she caressed him, and when she put her mouth upon him, he surged forward.
‘Regina, slow down.’
But she suckled against him, loving the power of making him feel the same way he’d made her feel. She ran her tongue along his hard length, and his entire body went rigid.
‘Stop,’ he pleaded, and she did, wondering if she had hurt him. Dalton was breathing hard, but he drew her to straddle him. He took her hips in his hands and guided himself to her entrance.
The Highlander and the Wallflower Page 17