Her heart pounded against his chest matching his beat for beat. This was what she had wanted. She smiled to herself. Well, to be honest, she’d wanted something different entirely, but since meeting him, her goals had changed. And he suited them perfectly. He was a partner. A man who wanted her, loved her, and who understood she didn’t wish to be left in the background but by his side on the forefront. “I feel it too.”
The carriage rolled to a stop. He heard the footman jump down and give a theatrical cough outside the door. “We’re here, my lord.”
He slid her hand off his member and closed the falls of his breeches.
Eliza frowned. She didn’t want to leave him now. They hadn’t finished their conversation and she certainly wasn’t done touching him.
He snapped the door open and then helped her out, following behind her. Then he turned to the driver. “Return just before dawn, if you please.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man answered and to his credit, his eyebrows only rose the smallest bit. Then he snapped the reins and drove off into the night.
“Dawn?” she asked, wrapping her arms about his waist.
He settled her close. “That’s right. I’m relying on you to get me into the house without being caught.”
“Hmmm. How do you feel about climbing garden trellises?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’d break my neck.”
She gave him a look up and down. “I think you could do it, personally.”
“How about we try sneaking up the back stairs first?”
She laughed, burying her forehead into the crook of his neck. “Very well. But if you get caught, you’re walking home and it’s a cold night.”
He snorted even as he squeezed her close. “Which is better? Freezing to death or falling to my death?”
She lifted her head. “This is fun. Is this what marriage will be like? How interesting. I’d prefer falling. Quicker.”
They started moving toward the back door. “Really? So violent.” But he quieted as they approached the door. Eliza peeked in to see the cook still at the stove but her back was to them. Eliza waved him on. He let her go and tiptoed into the stairwell disappearing around the corner Just as Eliza closed the door.
“Hello,” Cook said as she looked at Eliza. “I just heard a carriage.”
A bit of a thrill raced down her spine. This was exciting. “I was saying goodnight to my fiancé before he left.”
Cook nodded. “Congratulations.” Then she turned to Eliza. “Would you like a cookie or two before bed? I just baked them for tomorrow. Ginger.”
“Yes,” came a whisper from the stairwell.
She nearly rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Then, grabbing the cookies, she started up the stairs after Dylan.
He ate both cookies before they’d even made it to her room. “You know, it takes away a bit of the fun out of espionage with you eating like that,” she said as she closed the door.
He gave her a devilish grin. “Don’t worry, love. I’m just preparing for the night ahead.”
A jolt of awareness passed through her. “Give me that last piece of cookie,” she said as she tried to snatch the gingerbread from his hand.
He pulled his hand away and then grabbing hers, tugged her close. Then, gently, he placed the cookie in her mouth. She took a bite, aware of the brush of his fingers on her lips, the feel of his body, the warmth of his ginger scented breath on her cheek.
The gingerbread, still warm from the oven, melted in her mouth. “Delicious,” she murmured once she’d swallowed the delicate bite.
He’d already begun undoing the row of buttons at her back. “It was. But I bet it won’t taste nearly as good as you.”
She gasped in a breath even as he tugged off the top of her gown, then kissed her exposed collarbone.
Dropping down to his knees, he worked off her skirts, kissing her wrists, her palms, each of her fingertips. And when she’d been stripped to nothing but her chemise, he stood again, making quick work of his clothing until only his breeches remained.
Eliza swallowed a lump as she stared at his broad shoulders and narrow waist, muscles rippling as he moved. “You lied.”
He stared at her, cocking his head to the side. “About what?”
She reached out a hand and trailed it along the ridges of his muscles. “You’re completely capable of climbing the trellis.”
He gave a soft laugh then. “I’ll save those sorts of activities for when we’re off on some adventure.”
That made her melt. “Oh. I love that idea. You and I adventuring together.”
“Of course,” he softly replied. “I know the woman I’m marrying.”
He did. And she loved him all the more for it. “This is our first great adventure.”
Hells bells, she was glorious.
Gently, he pulled the pins from her hair, letting the dark tresses cascade down her back.
He’d never undressed a woman like this.
Passion, hot and deep, was burning in him, but he’d kept his movements gentle and easy. This was a moment he wanted to cherish. Remember forever.
He’d never expected to be here in his life. He rarely did things right, but deep in his soul, he knew Eliza was the best choice he’d ever made, and he absolutely would not ruin this by rushing.
A little voice in the back of his head said he’d find a way to wreck their marriage the way he destroyed everything else, but he beat it back down. Not tonight. Not here.
Right now, he’d cherish this woman with all the emotion he held in his heart.
He was back on his knees and she stared down at him, her gaze dark and wanting as her hands combed through his hair.
He reached for the hem of her chemise and skimmed the fabric up her legs.
When he’d gathered the material at her waist, he kissed her bare belly and felt her shiver. But he kept going, peeling the last barrier between them up and over her head.
She was stunning. His chest ached to look at her. Full breasts and hips were accentuated with a tiny waist. A woman had never made him ache like this and he stared, just wanting to commit her body to memory.
“Dylan.” She lifted her arms to him. “I’m cold.”
How could he deny a plea like that? He pulled her into his arms, lifting her feet off the ground and carrying her to the bed. As he set her down, he kissed her, pressing his weight on top of hers to warm her.
And then he slid his mouth lower, down her neck and across her chest.
He wanted to taste every inch of her. Slowly, he tasted each breast, counted her ribs with his lips, explored her stomach and then her hips.
As he parted her legs, he nibbled at her thighs, her breath coming in short gasps.
He rumbled out his own need, her center hot and ready for him. But he didn’t slide up her body. Instead, he kissed her again, in her most intimate place, her heat and scent wrapping around him.
She cried out, her hands tugging at his hair.
He started a rhythm with his tongue as tension built within her. He could feel it as her thighs tightened about his head, her body clenching around his finger as he slid the digit inside her.
She was so close, and it made everything male in him want to roar with victory, but he slowed his touch even as she whimpered out a protest.
He had a better goal in mind.
Chapter Fifteen
Eliza could feel that sweet tension building in her once again.
She wanted him, wanted him to finish her. She wanted…
Even more of his skin on hers.
And as though he were reading her mind, he climbed up her body, kicking off his breeches, his gaze hot and intense.
She wanted to touch him again. She’d love the feel of his manhood, but before she got the chance, he pressed his rod against her opening. White-hot desire pulsed through her.
She wrapped her arms about his back and urged him closer. She wanted more.
; He began to slide deeper inside her as his finger had done moments before, but this felt different.
She stretched, a slight burning covering the pain.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, kissing her face between each word.
“Yes,” she gritted out.
“I haven’t fully seated myself—”
But she squeezed him. “Do it. Quickly.” She’d never been one to shy away from anything and she wouldn’t now.
He obeyed without question and gave a quick push all the way inside her.
There was a burst of pain but satisfaction too. They were together. Completely.
“Eliza,” he rasped against her ear. “Are you all right?”
Emotion rolled over her in pleasant waves. Despite the pain, she was. “I’m wonderful.”
He gave a short quiet laugh. “Not what most women say, I’d imagine.”
She pressed her cheek to his. “Thank you for listening to me without question. I needed that to be quick.”
He’d held still deep inside her but at that, he leaned back. “I trust you more than I trust myself.”
They had to work on that, she quietly amended. He’d given her what she needed, a seat next to him. But him…he needed to learn to trust himself. And he needed a family who didn’t tear him down but built him up. She would be that family. “I trust you too. Completely.”
He drew up on his arms, looking down at her. “Eliza.” Her name was rough as he looked at her a mixture of pain and pleasure etched on his strong features. “Be careful…”
“I won’t,” she said, pulling his head back. “It’s you and me now. Always.”
“But you’ve family depending on you.” His face tightened.
“And now, they’ll depend on you too.”
In response, Dylan pressed down against her chest again, slowly pulling out of her body and then pushing back in. It didn’t hurt nearly as much.
When he did it a third time and then a fourth, pleasure began to replace the pain and soon they were moving together in a rhythm that left them both breathless.
She held him tight to her chest as sweet tension built.
Words flitted in and out of her thoughts. Love, trust, need, fulfillment—but she couldn’t seem to form them into coherent thoughts that could be spoken out loud so instead she held him tighter and whispered his name over and over until she finally crashed over the edge of her passion.
He didn’t make it but a few more strokes before he cried out, his body shaking with his own release.
As he collapsed on top of her, she snuggled deeper into him. A contentment like she’d never known settled over her and as she drifted off to sleep, she realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She was home.
Eliza woke before the sun, warm and so cozy in her bed.
She smiled and glanced over at the pillow next to her only to find it empty.
Reaching out her hand, it was still warm. But Dylan was gone.
Where was he?
Had he left without waking her and saying goodbye? She sat up. His clothes were gone and hers were neatly stacked on her dressing table except for her chemise, which lay on the foot of the bed.
Something heavy settled in her stomach. Where had he gone?
Dylan sat on the seat of a carriage as the morning sun burned off the fog from the night.
He was trying to shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d just made a series of terrible decisions.
The feeling wasn’t going anywhere.
Because he’d risen after a few hours of sleep and watched Eliza. Her face had been so relaxed, near angelic.
He’d risen and carefully folded her clothes. Then he’d dressed, all the while thinking about their future.
She loved him and he loved her. His chest still ached from it. But he had to prove to her that he was the sort of man she could trust.
He’d help her with her problems, with her sisters, and… That had been sound thinking in the wee hours of the morning. He’d decided to see the king.
Bash was right. It was the only way to move forward with the investigation. He knew he should wait for Bash. He was the one who’d seen the books and could prove the theft, but Dylan needed to know that he was actually a help and a true asset to Eliza and her family.
And this trip to see the king was not the adventure part. This was the sit-for-hours-in-a-salon-and-hope-the-king-might-give-an-audience piece. Surely, Eliza wouldn’t mind that? Or at least, that’s what he’d been thinking.
And by meeting the king, he’d add value to Eliza’s life. But a nagging doubt had begun to whisper in the back of his mind. Perhaps he should have asked her first? He’d wanted to triumphantly return to her side. He pictured delivering news that would help them sweep to her sisters’ rescue. But in the cold light of morning, he wondered…
Dylan had attended a Christmas party at the palace a few years back. He’d had a nice conversation with the king.
Which had led him to believe perhaps he’d be received.
Now, today, several hours later, as he made his way to the docks, he felt a surge of triumph along with a smidgeon of worry. Amazingly, he’d been seen.
Even more surprising, the king was aware of the theft and had come to the same conclusion, he needed to follow one of his compromised lines of goods. For him, goods he imported were said to have arrived but never seemed to make it to the palace.
But unlike Dishonor, the thieves had no idea that the king had suspicions. And with a shipment arriving at the London docks that very morning…instead of sitting in a salon all day, he’d sent Dylan to oversee its arrival.
Which was ridiculous.
Chances were the goods were gone already.
And Dylan had never run a shipping company before. How would he even know?
He needed Bash or Dishonor. Or Eliza.
And she was going to be furious when she realized he’d acted unilaterally. Why had he done this?
As usual, he was in over his head.
He sat next to a steward, who had not spoken a word since they’d left the palace, as they moved through the city toward the docks.
Finally, the man looked over at him. “Do you know anything about checking in crates?”
“No,” he answered truthfully.
“Then why do you think you’re here?”
He scratched his chin. “I’m not certain.”
The steward huffed out a quick breath. “Forgive me, my lord, but why would the king ask you to come on this trip if you did not serve a purpose?”
“Well, I’m about to marry into a shipping company being attacked by the same thieves.”
“Do you recognize any of them?”
“A few, actually.” He didn’t bother to mention those men were all in custody and being questioned by the Bow Street Runners.
“What I could use…” The steward curled his lip. “Is a man who can tell if the captain or any of his crew are lying to me.”
“Oh,” he turned to look at the man then, a smile spreading across his lips for the first time all morning. “In that case, I run a gaming hell. And I pride myself on sensing when a man is bluffing. I’ll do my best to help you on that account.”
The steward smiled back. “Well, then. Excellent.”
But an hour later, he was growing defeated. It seemed as if every crate was there, every man accounted for, and every crew member genuinely eager to please the king. He leaned over the side of the rail, his hands resting on his head. His big grand gesture was turning into a dud.
Eliza would be furious, and he didn’t even have good news to soften her irritation. He should have left a note. But truly, he hadn’t been able to find parchment or quill and he’d assumed he wouldn’t be that long. Which was always his folly. Not thinking all the details through.
And then he saw something.
A rowboat tied just off the side of the ship with three small crates loaded in it. They had the logo of the Crown and Chinese symbols on the sides.
In the congestion of the Thames, the two men in the boat were silent and as they loaded a fourth crate into their little boat, another man jumped from the ship into the rowboat and untied the rope holding it to the ship.
The man who’d jumped in turned toward Dylan and that’s when he realized it was the exact same Scot he seen with Dishonor yesterday. Surprise and anger coursed through him.
“Bullocks,” he said through clenched teeth as he started moving through the back of the ship.
The theft had happened in a matter of seconds and everyone was so busy…was he the only one who’d noticed?
But by the time he’d made it to the back of the boat, they were already rowing away.
Damn. His hands itched with the need to do something. He’d lose the Scot. Did he jump in the water?
Find a boat to follow?
The Scot looked up and the two men’s gazes collided.
The Scot stared for a second before he held a single finger to his lips and then continued rowing.
Dylan blew out a frustrated breath and then he realized…Dishonor would know where to find the man.
If they could trust Dishonor at all. What did they know about the man besides the fact he’d saved the girls once? Then he let out a short cry of frustration. That was something.
What did he do?
Running his hand through his hair, he knew.
He went to Eliza and Bash. They’d surely be able to help him.
If Eliza didn’t kill him, or worse, end their engagement.
Fear rippled through him. Perhaps he should chase the thieves instead. They’d likely be kinder than his fiancée. How mad would she be that he’d gone off without her?
Chapter Sixteen
Eliza had paced for much of the morning, wringing her hands and obsessively looking at the clock on the mantle.
Because she couldn’t tell Bash what she’d done last night, she didn’t know how to say that something was wrong.
Dylan had left. After confessing his love. Why?
She had asked Bash at breakfast where Dylan lived but the other man had only chuckled. “You’ll know soon enough. I hope you’re up for the redecoration. It’s going to be a big job.”
Marquess of Menace Page 10