Chastity remembered comparing him to a Greek God the first time she saw him. But now, like this, naked, basking in firelight, she could appreciate the truly magnificent creature before her—lean, fit, muscular, shoulders wide, stomach flat, waist trim. She walked around him to admire the whole, and he chuckled when she patted his bottom. As she stood before him, he became thicker and more erect. “You’re beautiful,” she said, with awe.
“Chastity, sweet, a man is never beautiful. He is—”
“Adored.”
Reed pulled the blankets from the bed and dropped them on the rug before the hearth, where he took her down, his lips on hers.
She sifted her hands through his hair, from his temple to his nape, enjoying the remarkable experience of caressing at will.
“Does it feel as good to you, my love,” he asked, “to lie naked together, as it does to me?”
Chastity swallowed her sob. He called her his love. If he but realized it, he gave her the greatest of gifts.
He teased her with swift-nibbling half-kisses, upper lip to lower, lower to upper, urging her to open for his assault, teasing her nipples with his fingers, taunting and tantalizing her—both where he touched, and where he did not.
He slid along her body and raised her foot, kissed an arch, an ankle, a calf, making his way up her leg in torturous-slow measure. Emotions she could not name coursed through her, intertwining, in some odd way, with a string of sizzling physical currents.
When he nuzzled her inner thigh, she was embarrassed, humbled. She moaned and, trying to deny herself, closed her eyes, but the pleasure was too great. She let her head fall back and took short, quick breaths to ride the sensations seeming to radiate outward from her core, where last night, he had only put his hands, he now placed his mouth. It had been wonderful, then, unbelievable now.
She should be appalled. She should stop him, but this was Reed, her love, her other half. Chastity knew it as she arched, reaching for burst after starburst. She cried his name, and he was there, kissing her, swallowing her cries, gentling her by stroking her, a paradoxically soothing counterpoint to the maelstrom he had created with the same velvet touch.
He was hers. Hers.
Reed touched his brow to Chastity’s, breathing hard, caressing softly where his mouth had just been. She was so incredibly sweet, it almost hurt. He feared for a moment that this gift was too great to accept. But accept it he must. He must or perish. “Are you all right? Do you want more?”
“More, please,” his love begged, barely catching her breath.
His love? Was she?
Yes, damn it. Chastity had become his love. God’s teeth, he was in for it now. No more could come of it, but he knew, by God, that she would belong to him, even after they parted, for as long as life held them on this earthly plane, longer perhaps, if Chastity had the right of it.
With the knowledge came a flash of understanding for his old friends, Gideon and Sabrina, Hawk and Alexandra, the rogues and their wives, famous for escaping from evening company. Gideon had once said that his love for Sabrina transcended life, and Hawk had later corroborated the sentiment in speaking of Alex. Love explained this communion of souls that couples sought at every opportunity.
Reed rose and led Chastity to the bed, lay them down, and sighed with a new contentment.
He laved her breasts, suckling forever, while she stroked and relished, as well. He had intended this as a tease, a hint of what was to come, but his treacherous body found near release with the act, and he was not alone in rapture. The pinnacle they teetered upon carried them so near the edge, ‘twas a wonder they did not tumble headlong into oblivion.
If this was a taste, then he was in heaven. Her lips sought his, even as she shuddered, and when he found her, nothing could mask the nectar of her sweet desire.
“Ready for your next lesson?” he asked, breath short.
“There’s more?” Chastity tried to sit up but fell back. I’ll never survive.” But a minute after, she grinned and surprised him by coaxing him to his back and rising above him. “I want to learn more of you first. May I, and will you answer my questions?”
Now he felt virginal and unsure—laughable, he supposed, though he could not, for his wonder in the moment seemed sacred.
No shrinking miss was this, as Chastity’s gaze made straight for that part of him which most intrigued. When she reached and stroked the length of him, he nearly lost control.
She took him into her hands, from his ballocks to the tip of his thrumming shaft. “It’s ... wet,” she said, “at the tip. I’m wet too.”
“That’s because I ... want you,” he said, between clenched teeth, as she manipulated him, “and you want me.”
“Is it?”
He could not believe the question. He could not think. “If you do not stop—”
Chastity cried out and leapt from the bed.
He caught her, weeping, as she reached the door and pulled her close. “Shh.” Something serious had just happened, but what? He wanted to wrap her in the safety of his embrace and prove that no fear could intrude.
“Chastity? Sweetheart, look at me.” He held her face between his hands. “I liked what you were doing. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. I liked it so much, that if you had not stopped, I would have spilled my seed too soon. I wanted that to happen at the right time, to the two of us, together. Do you understand?”
“I guess.”
He guessed she did not. “Come back to bed. I want to make love to you.”
“Are we making love?” she asked, and his heart skipped.
He carried her and kissed her all the way back to the bed, even as he set her down, and she settled herself perfectly against him. “There, that’s where it’s supposed to be, is it not?”
“For now,” he said, gauging her reaction.
She moved against him. “Why does it throb?”
He pulled away, looked into her eyes. “Chastity, you were married. Really, truly married? In every way?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.” She blushed. “Can we do what comes next, please?”
He forgot his concern over her contradictory innocence. “God, yes,” he said as he moved over her, but the look in her eyes stayed him. Was it fear? She had been married for a mere two days, so she might remember only pain.
He smoothed his hand gently down her body, to ready her and she arched. On the instant, her breathing quickened, and as he poised to enter her, she raked his back, his buttocks, with her nails, and Reed had no choice but to thrust; neither of them prepared to accept less.
In that fateful moment, Reed understood the true depth of her innocence, but it was too late. No turning back, for innocence had fled, and in its place, a woman.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He said the same, or he thought he did, before he lost all sense of self, aware only of her, soaring with him, hearts beating as one.
Chastity, the woman he loved.
Gold-crested wrens chattered their good mornings in the sprawling beach tree outside the window. Chastity rolled over, and found a solid wall—Reed Gilbride’s naked chest. Her heart quickened as his arms closed around her, his lips upon her brow, his sex stirring to life.
They made love all night, a pleasure beyond any she could have imagined. She was sore, and glad after all that Reed called a halt to their play, though God knew he wanted to continue as much as she. At her initiation, he had let her stroke him to release one last time before they slept. Now she understood what he had meant when she was learning him, about not wanting to reach release too soon.
“As much as I’d like to make love to you again,” he said, “the children will be awake soon, and perhaps it’s best they do not find you here, naked, when—”
“Good Lord!” She jumped from his bed so fast, she left him laughing.
Later, in the kitchen, her warm face foretold her color, she knew, as Reed entered and she stirred the gruel.
“Thea hasn’t returned, it s
eems.”
“I like Kitty’s cookin’ better anyway,” Luke said.
Reed ruffled his hair. “So do I.”
Chastity laughed skeptically.
“I’m ravenous. I’ll eat anything.”
“That’s more like the Reed, I know.”
“Your fault.”
Rebekah came in dragging the bottom half of a tiny white casket, her doll tucked neatly inside.
Chastity dropped her spoon. “Good God!”
“Where the dev— Ah. “ He knelt and tapped Bekah’s nose. “Where did you get that, Poppet?”
She pointed. “Luke.”
“I found it and knew it would make a fine cradle.” The well-intentioned boy looked from Chastity to Reed. “What?”
“I’ll make you a new bed for your baby this afternoon, Poppet,” Reed promised Bekah. “But I have to put this back where it belongs.” He regarded Chastity. “I have some cleaning to do. I’ll be back for lunch. Boys, finish breakfast and do your chores. Help Chastity, Poppet,” he added before he left, half a small casket tucked under his arm.
Chastity knew Reed was upset about what he had not found, and her heart went out to him. He needed to know his roots and she hurt for him, especially now.
Now that they’d made love, they were part of each other, forever, though they’d not be together, she knew, not on this earth. One of them would leave, but she would always remember.
She smoothed a hand over her abdomen. She understood now, about having a child, and wished for one more gift, a child of his to love and cherish, as she would not be able to love and cherish its father.
She frowned. What would Mr. Sennett think? Then she remembered that none of it mattered. She put her fate in greater hands. Whatever happened, none could sever the love she and Reed shared. She would accept what fate decreed. God saw fit to give her Reed, after all, and she would be grateful to the end of her days. She gazed beyond raw oak beams and plaster ceiling. Please.
After dinner, Rebekah placed her baby in its new cradle, half of an old oak barrel.
“She doesn’t seem to mind the switch,” Chastity said.
Reed tweaked Bekah’s nose. “She didn’t mind a casket, why would she mind a barrel?”
“This one rocks,” Luke said.
Matt and Luke played house with her. Mark refused, arms folded, and remained stubborn and unmoving, while they played around him. Bekah minded not at all, she simply patted his head and said, “Good doggie,” every so often.
Chastity took Reed’s arm. “Let’s go for a walk. Matt, watch your sister and brothers, and make sure Bekah’s doggie doesn’t make a mess in the house.”
Mark could not hide the near-smile in his eyes.
“Stop worrying,” Chastity said. “I am not sorry about last night.”
“Neither am I.” He kissed her.
“I’m concerned about what your search is doing to you. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
He sat on a stone wall and pulled her down beside him. “If I’m a St. Yves twin, why not two notes? Why did my twin not come—if I am indeed one of them—unless he’s dead?” Reed ran a hand through his hair.
Chastity’s heart hit her ribs, the way it had on that moonless night when Reed’s voice split the darkness outside the workhouse. Perhaps, this too was for the best. She had already decided to give Reed William’s note, and now she removed it from her pocket and handed it to him. Why had she fooled herself into believing it did not matter?
“I wondered where it went,” Reed said. “Where did you find it?”
“Luke found your note after you were shot. I’ve had it since.” She bit her lip and pulled another from her pocket.
Reed gazed from one to the other, turned them over and read the names on the back. When he looked up, foreboding skittered up her spine. “I’m sorry.”
Reed shook his head. “This was your husband’s?”
“We were on our way to Mr. Sennett when William died.”
“How many times, Chastity, have you lied to me?”
“No, I never did. I never actually—”
“You never actually said you were a nun. You never actually said you were married. His voice rose with every word. “You never said there was another note, that you were untouched. You never told me who you are, Chastity Somers, and I do not believe I know you at all.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chastity raised her chin. “I’m glad William did not touch me. I’m glad it was you—”
“Do not,” Reed said. “Do not corrupt what we shared by adding it to your pack of lies. Damn it, you never actually told Sennett you stole the children, did you?” Reed ran his hand through his hair. “And Sunnyledge? By God, he would take that back if he knew. Now I understand. That’s why you agreed to our betrothal, because I damned near threw you in deep water. I can be such a fool.” Reed stood to pace, every step seeming to take him farther away. “Why, Chastity? Why did you keep William’s note from me?”
She did not know where to begin.
“Never mind,” he went on. “I know. You wanted to keep Sunnyledge. You knew I could be one of the St. Yves twins, because you knew there was a second note, whereas I kept thinking that if only there were two notes, then perhaps— Blast and damnation, Chastity, why?”
“How much more conclusive is your evidence now that you have William’s note?” she asked. “Does it make a difference, really? Mr. Sennett said the day I met him that William’s claim had ended—if one existed—with his death. That note made no difference to your search at all.”
“It made a difference to my conclusions! Two notes equals two sons, equals twins, equals two empty caskets—which I have. Do not even pretend you cannot see that.”
He would never believe that she had not seen it that precise way, until this moment. She sighed. “You and William look nothing alike, by the way, but I withheld the information at first, because if you had known about his note, you would have asked who he was.”
“What the bloody damn difference would that make?”
“I would have been forced to admit the truth, that he was my husband.”
“The truth?” Reed’s expression went from incredulous to cruel. “Oh, I forgot, telling falsehoods would set a bad example.” He shook his head. “Why, Chastity?”
“I was afraid. There would have been no barriers between us, if you knew that I had been married, but if you thought I was a nun, living together was safer. I was ... drawn to you from the first. I had always craved human contact. I needed the barrier.”
That she had his interest for the first time since she handed him the note, gave Chastity courage. “The sisters rejected affection, and I began to think touching, hugging, kissing was wicked, that I was wicked.” She could not bear to see revulsion on his face, or worse, confirmation, so she looked away, though she saw nothing save the man she loved slipping from her life.
“On my wedding night, when William got into bed with me, I put my arms around him and kissed him, and he pulled away. I will never forget his disgust as he turned from me. Later, he mumbled something about nuns and damnation, and I assumed he was talking about my wicked self. He died the next day.”
At the glimpse of reluctant understanding in Reed’s eyes, Chastity continued. “When I kissed you that first morning, you were appalled, but I liked the kiss, and hated myself for it. Then fate stepped in and you saw my veil. To keep us at a safe distance, I allowed your assumption.”
Chastity raised her chin, tried to laugh, but failed, and only achieved sorrow. “In the end, it mattered not. You proved too much of a temptation, after all.”
Reed clenched his fists and took a breath, fighting the pull, but he would not be duped again. He walked away, but turned back. “You know, Chastity, I used to think that being given away by my parents was the ultimate betrayal. But I have come to discover that being betrayed by the woman I—by you—is worse. I will be gone come morning.”
This time, he kept walking.
&nb
sp; “Do not pretend that you ever intended to stay, Reed Gilbride. My betrayal just gives you an excuse to go. How bloody-damned convenient!”
* * *
She would succeed this time, the Vindicator promised herself, and not miss, again. If she had to follow him every cursed mile for the rest of his life, she would thwart Edward and bring him to his knees.
‘Twas one thing to get an heir on his wife, but now he had dallied with the Somers chit right there in the kitchen. Low as a gin-guzzling blighter, Edward was.
She had heard his voice, husky with passion. She remembered those sounds he made. Was a time only she could bring them, but now, he would rut with anyone.
Well, she had had enough. Edward must die, and soon.
* * *
Reed urged Stealth onward, his journey taking him farther away from Painswick, from Chastity and the children, each mile weakening his resolve, tearing him apart.
He saw Gaudy Green, surprised he had reached Gloucester. The city teemed with activity. And something spooked his horse, sent it into a gallop. He nearly ran down a pie-man, and knocked over his cart before getting Stealth under control. When Reed looked back, the hawker was shaking a fist at him. He didn’t much care.
At Leather Bottle Lane, near the Quay Street Workhouse, he thought, again, of Chastity. Everything reminded him of her since he left this morning. He heard her pace into the night, her every step a new wound. She approached the connecting door between their rooms almost as often as he did. In the end, he realized their break had best be quick and clean. He hoped she knew it, too, else she would be devastated by his note.
Gone to Sennett, he had written. Have a good life. Then he added, Love to the children. He hoped she did not need to hear that he loved her. Then again, he hoped she did, and hated him for not saying it. Life would go easier for her, if she hated him.
Shocked to see Reed led into his office, Sennett sat straighter. “Chastity?”
“Fine sir.” Reed wished it were true.
The wizened visage held relief. “Children fine?”
A nod.
Sennett placed his hands on his hips. “Do not say that we need to hurry the wedding.”
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