by Vanda Vadas
She turned in the cradle of his arms and propped herself up to lean over him. One hand settled on the bed either side of his chest. For a heart-faltering moment she glimpsed several dimly lit spots in a black fog, and then something that took on the vaguest shape.
One blink and it was gone.
‘Eloise? Are you all right?’
His voice rang with concern. Strong hands steadied her. ‘What can you see, Zach?’
‘You. By candlelight. A vision of exquisite beauty.’
If not for his supporting hands she’d have collapsed over him from the shock of seeing something take form, and those specks of light. And she had seen them. Before she could tell Zach, he’d tumbled her onto her back. His mouth robbed her of speech. The rasp of bristles on her cheeks sent a shiver through her. She smoothed her hands down his hard muscled sides and slipped her fingers between his breeches and hips.
Bolder still, she skimmed beneath the waistline along his lower abdomen and glanced over the velvety rounded tip of his arousal. He groaned, as if someone had dragged from him his very last breath.
Suddenly, his warm weight was gone. There was a flurry of movement, the sound of a buckle being unhitched, and then the rustle of clothes falling to the floor.
The bed depressed. Solid heat centred over her and between her parted legs. His hard length pulsed against her belly.
His exultant sigh rang in her ears. ‘How I’ve wanted you, Eloise.’
It was a sincere confession. Tremors shook her. His finger drew circles around her breasts. Lips kissed a meandering path to her mouth. There, she opened to him, revelling in his salty taste and the way his tongue discovered her anew. His scent enlivened her; latent strength excited her.
He’d taken command of her senses.
She raised and twisted her hips from side to side, desperate to appease the ache in her belly. Her brain suddenly engaged, realising his rigid length pressed where his fingers had previously ventured. Beyond lay a threshold she yearned for him to cross.
‘Zach,’ she gasped. Eager, impatient, desirous.
Strong arms slid beneath her shoulders, hands framing her face. Thick hardness pushed inside her. Testing. Stretching. Slowly filling her. She tensed and gripped his shoulders tight.
‘Take a breath, my dove.’
She relaxed enough to open her body and yield a little more to him. Instinctively, she arched, inviting him to possess all of her.
‘There’ll be a moment’s pain, Eloise.’
She acknowledged his warning with a nod. ‘I trust you.’
He groaned as though it were he who suffered discomfort. In one single thrust he shattered her fragile innocence. Blistering pain quickly came and went, her cry spirited away by his searing kiss.
Still the ache remained. When he lifted his head, she confessed, ‘It’s not as it was before.’
His breath fanned her lips. ‘It will be, I assure you. Second flight has only just begun.’
She protested when he withdrew slowly and then sighed as he eased back inside her, holding still for just a moment. Eloise gripped his arms when he again retreated, worried he’d desert her completely. She welcomed the hot slide of his body in and over hers. Each time he withdrew, she had the feeling of falling. Every thrust, she soared a little higher. She kept pace with his increasing rhythm, relishing every delicious stroke.
Moist heat radiated around her other nipple. His tongue laved it with exquisite effect. Rousing friction on her breasts and inside her body had driven her to unimaginable heights. It deprived her mind of sober control and sent her reeling.
‘Eloise.’
She opened her eyes to the sound of his voice, thick with desire, and glimpsed flashes of his face. Eyes closed. Strong bones. Jaw clenched as if in pain. Raven hair. Straight nose. Sensual mouth.
Her heart lurched.
The simultaneous thrill of partial vision and reaching the pinnacle of pleasure forced her breathless cry. ‘Zach!’
Too soon the image wavered, faded, but not before dark lashes lifted to reveal raw hunger in his obsidian eyes.
With his last deep surge, Eloise gave in to sensation and an updraft of overwhelming shockwaves that carried her aloft and beyond. In Zach’s arms, she floated on a cloud of inner serenity.
Zach delivered the final thrust and emptied himself inside her.
He was spent and replete; the force of his climax was unlike any he’d ever known. More than just physical gratification, it was the first time he’d sought to give pleasure to a woman. He’d selflessly given, rather than taken. It gave him an extraordinary, heady feeling.
He rolled onto his side and gathered Eloise in his arms. She lay her head on his chest and soon fell asleep. A tell-tale sign, he mused, of sexual satiation. Her naiveté moved him, stirring something deep inside his soul, a manifestation so foreign to his experience that it struck him like an unexpected squall.
Vengeance had been his obsession, but now Eloise, like a counter-weight to his conscience, had knocked on the door of his hardened heart. She’d given herself to him in an honest and pure way. He allowed himself a moment’s peace to savour the precious gift she had blessed him with so generously. He’d been her first. He would be her last. She was his, no question about it.
All too quickly reality came crashing down. He had no room in his heart for her.
He could spend a thousand nights like this, but then justice would not be served. Promises must be kept. Honour restored. He owed it to his father, to Eloise and her parents.
To himself.
Eloise stirred. His arms firmed about her; to settle her. He glanced down and caressed her cheek. Her breath fell softly on his chest.
He had to tell her he was wanted for the murder of her parents. Would she accept his word and believe him innocent? He doubted it. Her belief in Gareth would surely be ingrained; Zach was doomed to remain the highwayman and outsider, the criminal England believed him to be.
Eloise would feel duped. She would despise him.
And besides, even if he were to clear his name, did he really want to resume duties as the legal Duke of Arlington? He was accustomed to life at sea.
Better that she learn the truth and draw her own conclusions about him. She must not become his weakness. Not when retribution lay within reach. He had a ship to command and navigate back to the Caribbean, in order to make his final strike against Gareth’s shipping company. Only then could he safely return Eloise to her family, and finally expose his murderous half-brother.
He knew that once Eloise woke and discovered they’d set sail, it would drive a deeper wedge between them. Let her think the worst of him. There was too much at stake to risk any hope of a future with her.
Sleep evaded Zach. He relived the intimate moments they’d shared and stifled a groan as, even now, that part of him sprang to life just thinking about the moment he’d taken her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling indebted to her for the tender, memorable night just passed, for giving him some semblance of what it would be like to love and be loved. He brushed his lips across hers in a silent apology for the anguish and hurt he would soon cause her.
He slipped from the bed to dress quickly and quietly. Before closing the cabin door behind him, he stole another glance at her. He expected her to sleep until late morning, by which time he would return with his impending confession.
Now he must administer swift punishment to the man who had tried to violate Eloise.
Chapter Thirteen
Gareth cast a resentful eye over the gaming table and its players. He’d developed a particular dislike for the gentleman sitting directly opposite him. The rakish Scotsman, resplendent in a striped waistcoat, with a gold-frogged coat and a froth of lace at his neck and wrists, displayed an aggressive self-confidence. He represented everything the other men were losing tonight.
Money.
Gareth adjusted his powdered wig, letting his gaze drop to the pile of gold coins at the man’s elbow. ‘I don’t believe I
’ve seen you here before, but damn me if luck hasn’t fallen in your lap tonight.’
The Scotsman drew on his cigar, blowing it out in a thin, even stream above their heads. ‘So it would seem, Your Grace. Like you, anonymity is the reason I visit back-street establishments like this. To avoid the watchful eyes and wagging tongues of society.’ He cast a wry smile at the other men. ‘I doubt Dover Street would host an evening where the whores are supplied as part of the evening’s entertainment, regardless of whether you win or lose.’
The other men snickered. Gareth’s fist clenched beneath the table. He watched one of the brightly painted whores smile and drape herself about the man’s neck as if she were a priceless ermine stole.
She leaned to one side. A nipple popped out of her bodice. Her hand slid over the Scotsman’s chest and travelled south to fondle his crotch. She lifted her gaze. Her sultry eyes flirted with Gareth while she licked her garish red lips suggestively.
Her attractive body caused Gareth to shift in his chair, his arousal hard and uncomfortable. She was making a blatant promise of what he could expect should he choose to leave the table now. He would collect from her soon enough.
Beneath his coat, sweat dampened his shirt. His scalp itched under the wig. Outwardly, he projected a countenance of cool indifference. ‘Ah, gentlemen. The loss of a few hundred or so gold coins is neither here nor there.’
For the proprietor’s benefit, he chided, ‘Although I do object to having to pay an abominable admission fee to frequent this rat-infested hole.’
The Scotsman stacked his winnings. ‘How else do you think these beauties draw a wage, Your Grace? Besides, the admission fee guarantees your presence here will be a secret from those who would otherwise make your life impossible. Are we not entitled to a little mischief now and then? Life is not all about playing by the rules.’
‘Indeed,’ vouched another. ‘I prefer to keep my penchant for the gaming tables a confidential matter.’
Gareth’s gaze indicated the attending whores. ‘Are you sure it’s faro that brings you here, my lord?’
‘When you’re as old as I am, Your Grace, you’ll truly appreciate the fruits younger women bear, as opposed to –’
‘We take your meaning,’ interrupted the Scotsman in a bawdy brogue. He flicked his tongue over the whore’s nipple. Her breath of laughter whipped the cigar smoke into swirling eddies.
Gareth resisted the urge to reach out and fondle her breast. Instead, he extended his hand and inspected his manicure as if bored with the game and her behaviour. ‘Pray tell, from whom do you wish to hide your gambling and debauchery?’
The Scotsman threw him a measured look. ‘Unlike you, Your Grace, I don’t have a reputation to uphold. It’s already tarnished. I’m merely the youngest son of a wealthy laird. The black sheep of the family, if you will. An embarrassment to my ancestry.’
He raised his glass in mock salute. ‘To my father, who pays me handsomely to stay south of the Scottish border. You see, he doesn’t quite agree with my obsession for wine, women and cards.’ He pushed a handful of guineas beside the Ace of Hearts. ‘Speaking of which. You dally, gentlemen. Place your bets.’
Gareth chose a card and threw on it his remaining coins. ‘Are you a man of business?’
‘Business?’ The Scotsman laughed. He threw his hands wide. ‘I’m hard at it now.’ He slapped a passing whore on the bottom. ‘What about you, Your Grace? I believe there to be a certain charming lady who’d not be impressed to learn of your … dalliance here tonight. I’m sure her brother, the marquess, would have something to say about it. Hmm?’
At the sight Gareth’s scathing look, the Scot scrambled to smooth the feathers he’d ruffled. ‘Oh, do not look so injured, Your Grace. News is not slow in reaching a newcomer’s ears.’
The dealer leaned in close. ‘From what I’ve heard, the marquess has bigger problems to deal with. Is it true that a highwayman kidnapped Lady Eloise? That she’s not yet been returned to her family?’
Gareth stiffened. He would have to douse the embers of these rumours before they flared and raced like wildfire through the courts of London. ‘Nonsense! Tell me who has concocted this defamatory falsehood and I’ll have them thrown in Newgate. Lady Eloise convalesces at Blakely House after having suffered a fall.’
The Scot lounged back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued. ‘Kidnapped by a highwayman, you say?’ He raised both brows. ‘Then her reputation, I fear, is –’
‘Enough!’ Gareth slammed his fist on the table, toppling the Scot’s stack of coins.
‘My apologies, Your Grace.’
Gareth’s suspicion flared, then quickly faded. The Scot looked and sounded nothing like either of the men who’d abducted Eloise. He’d sized up many a man since that day, hoping to recognise the solid physique and cold black eyes of the highwayman who’d ridden off with her in his arms. Visiting his neighbouring haunts had so far proved futile.
Would he ever see Eloise again? The woman he’d secretly spent a lifetime loving, and who, more to the point, was the answer to his financial prayers, had been ripped from his reach. All attempts to locate and rescue her had failed. His mind began to conjure images of the highwayman sampling Eloise’s body. Gareth drained his claret in one swift gulp.
Time was running out. There were creditors to pay. He must gain Julian’s consent to marry Eloise, no matter that she was blind. Without the bride, there could be no marriage, and therefore no settling of debts.
The Scotsman eyed Gareth’s grip on the empty wine glass. ‘Best you release that before it shatters.’
The whore moved to stand beside him, ready to refill his glass. ‘More wine, Your Grace?’
He nodded and gave the game his attention.
The dealer turned over the Ace of Hearts.
The Scotsman scooped up his winnings. ‘Trust me, Your Grace. What is said and done here, stays here.’
Smug bastard. Gareth brought the glass to his lips and downed the red. In a few short hours he’d been stripped of his purse.
The dealer gestured to Gareth. ‘Another game. Are you in or out, Your Grace?’
Gareth politely declined, flicking his wrist in disinterest. ‘I find this all rather tedious.’
‘Are you sure? A promissory note is acceptable.’
Had this come from any other man, it would have been taken as an insult. Gareth knew the dealer did not mean to slight him in any way. Regardless, he would not lose face by admitting he could ill afford to gamble.
His eyes, meanwhile, feasted on the young whore, the perfect excuse to withdraw from the table. His hand brazenly wandered over her stomach, and lower. ‘Gentlemen, pray continue without me.’ He stood and extended her his hand. ‘My attention and efforts are best served elsewhere.’
Behind him, the Scot called, ‘Don’t wear her out, Your Grace. I shall claim her when you’re done. She is prime stock among this stable.’
The irony of the Scot’s words were not lost on Gareth. Perhaps it was time to enlist the handiwork of his minions again, and thieve another thoroughbred from Blakely stables. The sale of which, at the very least, might cover what he’d lost at the gaming tables tonight.
Once inside the bedchamber he fixed his gaze on the whore. ‘Strip!’
She cocked a brow and ran her tongue over her lips. ‘My, Your Grace, you are eager tonight.’
‘Shut up! I’m not interested in your conversation.’
Her eyes widened at his venomous bark. She jumped back a step when he ordered, ‘Get on with it!’
Her hands moved swiftly, fumbling with the ties at her breast.
‘Slowly!’
The fear in her eyes aroused him. As he’d commanded, she slowly peeled the garments from her young body. Layer by layer, they pooled at her feet. She stood there, the image of childlike vulnerability with her alabaster skin and small pert breasts, hairless between her thighs.
If ever a whore were to know the shame of her appearance and profession, it sho
wed in her eyes. Shaking hands covered her nakedness. As quickly as her gaze lowered, it rose to meet his when Gareth said, ‘Ah, Eloise, no need for modesty.’
‘My name is Rebecca.’
He stepped forwards and slapped her face. She stumbled backwards. Gareth caught her wrist and tugged her to him. ‘Don’t speak!’
She cried out in pain when he squeezed her breast, and again when his rough touch invaded her.
Gareth sneered. ‘You are a whore. With your body, I indulge my fantasies. Remember that.’ He took from his coat pocket a length of silk material and covered her eyes with it. ‘Just like Eloise.’
He undressed and placed her hand over his hard flesh, rubbing back and forth. Beneath her touch, his excitement swelled, his skin became feverish and hot. He pulled her to the bed where she fell and lay on her back, trembling. He pinned her hands above her head, and spread her legs wide with his knees. She cried out the instant he drove inside her.
Thrust after insensitive thrust, he spewed vile and coarse words. When he’d finished with her, he ripped the bandage from her eyes and snaked a hand around her throat. She struggled beneath him.
‘Not a word about this to anyone. Do you understand, girl? Or your worthless corpse will rot in the dankest gutter. Consider my performance payback for distracting me at the tables. I lost a small fortune thanks to you. I only wish I could say you were worth it.’
He rolled off her and dressed.
Her hands went to her throat, gasping for air.
Gareth left the room without a backward glance, throwing the door wide.
A few moments had passed before the Scotsman stepped into the room. He bolted the door behind him.
The whore snatched up the blanket and covered her nakedness. ‘Leave me be, sir. I beg you, leave me be.’
‘I’m not here to use you as he did, lass.’
She swiped at tears. ‘Such a caring tone for one who looks upon me in disgust.’
‘Disgust for His Grace, lass, not you.’
‘If you don’t want my body, then what do you want?’