by Ruby Duvall
“This much?” He pointed at the towels. “And you fainted? I do not pretend to be an expert on female reproduction but this seems impossible. Why would Mary come to me if she weren’t concerned?”
“It’s that necklace,” Mary said. “It told me.” Ryder was perplexed at the maid’s allegation but Samantha blanched.
Her voice was shrill. “Mary!”
Strange, the thing was such a part of her that he no longer noticed it. She always wore it. Always.
She never took it off.
What did he know about her, truly? She was American, had lived in New York where she kept the books for a shop that dealt in antiques, and she hated a man named Brian. She was five and twenty.
He adored her so ardently, yet he knew nothing more than that. Did she have family? Friends? What were her dreams?
“It’s time that I have the truth from you. Where did you acquire that necklace and why do you always wear it? Who is Brian? What is he to you?” He came closer to her. Her eyes were wide. “Why did you come to London? What circumstances left you with Mrs. Hayes? Why are you here with me?”
Samantha’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes brimmed with tears.
Verily he would break his heart, for she did not trust him with the answers to his questions. Why, when he would do anything for her?
She ran upstairs.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam couldn’t have this conversation yet. Sure, she had thought a lot about telling him, about what she would say, about all the ways in which she hoped he’d respond, but now that he was asking, she couldn’t do it, especially since Mary and Oliver were standing right there.
Escape was too tempting. She hiked up her skirt and darted for the bedroom. For a couple of blissful seconds as she beat feet upstairs, he didn’t pursue, but his shock at her flight didn’t last long. Booted footfalls pounded up the stairs behind her.
“Samantha!” She lunged for the bedroom.
What if the worst were to happen and Ryder thought she was throw-in-the-asylum crazy? If she denied ever telling him, she might avoid the hellish prospect of languishing in Bedlam, but he would never look at her the same, if at all were he to completely shun her. She didn’t want that for either of them. She’d never recover.
She nearly had the bedroom door shut but Ryder threw himself against the jamb. He heaved the door open and she retreated farther into the room. He was incredulous.
“Samantha, please! Why can you not tell me?”
“Webb found us on the road back to London,” she blurted. “He threatened Oliver with a pistol and he searched the coach.”
“What?” It took a few seconds for his mind to catch up. “How did he find you? What did he say?”
That he followed the change of topic was very relieving. “He saw your ship in London and he forced one of your crewmen to tell him where you disembarked. He was riding for Poole and recognized the coach.”
“Did he find the log?”
She shook her head. “We had to jump him though. Listen, Ryder, he told me something about your—”
“No, I—I will not be swayed. You must answer my questions.”
Her eyes stung. She wasn’t ready.
“I want to tell you.” A lump grew in her throat.
Ryder came to her and gently took her arms. His eyebrows were pinched. He breathed as though it were something he had to concentrate on. “Do you not trust me, Samantha?”
She braced her hands on his chest and clenched the dark material of his vest. “I do. I swear I do, but the entire truth… It would change how you see me.”
“It wouldn’t.” He pulled her closer. His stare was direct, but not because he was searching her soul. He was showing her his own. “You command my heart. It beats only for you. I love you.”
Her eyes slid shut, spilling tears, and for a moment she was too overwhelmed to speak. She did what she could and pressed herself to him. He embraced her without question.
Mary called from downstairs. “Mr. West, we can hear everything.”
He didn’t let her go. “Well, back to the tavern with you!”
While they waited to hear the front door open and shut, Sam struggled to calm down and cool the aching lump in her throat. Ryder stroked her hair, which both helped and hindered.
The front door shut.
She stepped out of his arms, her eyes averted. He produced a kerchief from somewhere and she gratefully wiped her eyes.
“I can tell you about Brian at least,” she offered in a strained voice.
He didn’t say anything in response. Okay then.
“My parents weren’t interested in history but they loved to travel, so my dad’s antiques shop was kind of incidental. It started off with just him and my mom, but it grew to ten employees. Brian was one of the first people they hired. I was a lot younger than him and he was my dad’s best salesman, very charming.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder clench his hands.
“Mom died a couple of years ago and I came back home to help Dad with the shop. Then Dad died last year. The shop went to me, and Brian took over sales while I did acquisition. That’s when he changed. At first I thought it was stress, or maybe he was upset that Dad didn’t leave him anything. I don’t know.
“God, I thought he was so mysterious. He kept me hooked for a long time, and I never saw underneath. When I was mad at him, he was attentive for a few days, maybe a week. He’d make me feel attractive, but he never touched me. I don’t think he cared about sex.”
She fought the fresh wave of tears. “I don’t think he cared about me. I was incidental too.” She couldn’t help her curiosity and looked up at Ryder. His expression was so earnest. “I found out that Brian was smuggling something inside the antiques. Isn’t that weird? I come all the way to London and hook up with another smuggler. Only Brian wasn’t smuggling tea. It’s a drug called heroin, although it could’ve been cocaine for all I know.”
Ryder became guarded, but she saw a trace of guilt.
“When Brian knew what I had found, he threatened to kill me, so I ran.” That was a gross understatement, but she had to fib about the gun. A bullet in the gut was not something from which you easily recovered. Ryder didn’t like the threaten-to-kill part at all. He bared gritted teeth at her.
“Why London? Why come so far to escape him?”
“All I can say is I had no other option.” She couldn’t be any less ambiguous as she didn’t know the answer to his question either.
“The necklace? Why is it so—?”
“Please, Ryder, don’t ask me anything else. I can’t tell you.”
That earnestness was back. He stepped close. “I don’t understand. Are you still in trouble? Is he looking for you?”
“No, he can’t find me here.” She slid her hands beneath his jaw. “I know you want to protect me, but knowing more won’t let you do that. Please.”
She saw so much pain on his face. He groped at her for succor and she wanted the same. She wanted to give him whatever he needed, just not the truth. Her fingers went to the base of his head and pulled his lips down to hers. He made a heartrending sound as she kissed him slowly, deliberately. He pulled her hips against him. She slipped the tie from his ponytail and filled her hands with his hair. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she lifted her lips.
“Undress me,” she whispered. A puff of surprise blew across her cheek.
His voice was hoarse. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”
“It’ll be worth it.” He shuddered against her and she brought him down for another kiss. He let her dictate the pace, let her experience his lips and tongue as if it were their first kiss. His hands were gentle but quick, unlacing her dress and then her corset. When he would have shucked the layers from her, she pulled away from him and held her bodice to her chest.
He was impatient. “Samantha, I need you.” He moved to disrobe her but she took another step back.
“I want you completely naked and sitting on the bed.” Her e
yes slid down to the erection straining against his breeches. They stayed there as he hastily went after his clothes. He nearly tore the buttons from his vest as everything came off in a mere moment. His thick arousal sprang from between the corded muscles of his thighs. His abdomen was tight with his barely checked control. His wide chest moved with his deep breaths.
He sat on the bed and his hand went to his cock.
“Hands off.” He locked that strong jaw but removed his hand.
She didn’t look away from his stare as she slowly wriggled out of her dress. The blue taffeta rustled as it hit the floor and she stepped out of it. She slipped off the corset and tossed it onto a chair. The clap of her shoes was muffled by the rug as she approached him.
Her chemise was last. Teasing him was incredibly arousing so she took her time pulling it over her head. He breathed out hard when she bared her sex and sucked it back in through his teeth when her breasts spilled from the folds of linen.
The blue stockings and shoes stayed on. His hands flexed and his teeth chewed his lip, but he didn’t touch her as he obviously wanted. His eyes did the touching for him, and her skin grew warm wherever they roamed.
She sank to her knees, which made him groan at the implication. Her hands glided up the insides of his thighs, pushing them open to give her some room. He braced his hands behind him.
Teasing was the trend, so she eased close to kiss his abdomen first. Her breast brushed his erection. The muscle beneath her lips jerked and he gasped. She loved the hell out of that reaction and did it again. His hand came around to her shoulder. She sat on her heels and trailed kisses up his right thigh, then his left. The slit at the tip of his cock was glistening.
She had never done this, and Ryder had strangely never asked her to do it, which made her wonder if he had ever been given head before. She braced herself and licked her lips.
“Samantha.” He said her name as if she were killing him. “Touch me, please.”
His cock slid between her lips, up her tongue, and the tip brushed the back of her throat, yet still there was more of him. The taste wasn’t bad. In fact it was pretty good. It certainly wasn’t an ice-cream sundae but it was his taste, his essence. He didn’t move at first. She wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. She experimented with how deep she could take him, marveling at the texture of his skin, the warmth and the hardness. She was surprised at how wide she had to open her jaw.
He let out a breath with great difficulty. She looked up at him and only saw his throat and jaw as his head was tipped back. Her eyes closed. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection and followed her mouth as she pumped up and down his shaft. She heard a hiss and his hand tightened on her shoulder.
His cock popped free of her mouth and she took a couple of deep breaths. Her lips were slick. She looked up and oh damn, was he giving her a look. Heavy-lidded eyes and a tight forehead, as if she were the best thing he had ever experienced. She felt powerful.
“Grab my hair.” He made a small noise and his hand on her shoulder went to the back of her head. His fingers curled tightly around her hair.
She watched him closely. “Come in the back of my throat.”
He growled and shoved her mouth onto his cock. She followed the push and pull of his hand, her own hands braced on his thighs. His hips were thrusting and his erection went deep, but she concentrated on breathing through her nose, on keeping her throat relaxed.
A ragged groan escaped from him and his cock throbbed in her mouth. She took a deep breath but still was unprepared. The tip went past her tongue. A warm spurt hit the back of her throat and she gagged. After a cough, she swallowed a second splash. She held down his hips but still he writhed, moaning and panting. Another spurt was swallowed. It was almost too much at once but she was so turned-on that she tried to milk him for more.
His shoulders hit the bed as she pulled her mouth away. He tensed and held his breath. His loins twitched. A sigh of relief followed and he relaxed. She stood and watched it happen two more times.
She was intoxicated, triumphant. She had pleasured this potent man and he was so sexy lying there, utterly spent.
The daylight was nearly gone, so she lit a couple of candles and hit up the bathroom to wash her face and gargle. She came back expecting to find him practically passed out, but he had sat up and his back was to her. She rounded the foot of the bed.
“Whoa.” He was still hard. Sweat dotted his skin and he shifted stiffly as though his erection was too sensitive to touch.
“I missed you, it seems.” His voice was tinged with the sting of lust.
“Yeah.” Her body was responding hardcore. She restlessly rubbed her thighs together and pictured straddling him right there.
She put her knee on the bed and her hands on his shoulders. “Let me give you what we both want.” He sucked in a breath, a powerful need in his eyes. He relented to the guidance of her hands, which steered him to the center of the bed. She then crawled over him and pushed him onto his back. Her shins bracketed his hips. Tapping the heels of her shoes against his legs got him to lift his knees and she locked herself into place with her ankles under his thighs.
His hands smoothed up her legs and held her hips. She rose and watched him as she parted the lips of her vagina. Though she could hardly wait any longer, she teased her clit with the head of his cock.
He gasped. “Christ, Samantha.” He tried to slide into her but she pulled away. He grunted with impatience. She lowered her hips and used him as a dildo again, savoring his groan.
“Doesn’t that feel good?”
“I need your cunny.” The new word made her blink, but he said it as if he were an addict in withdrawal.
Her voice was husky when she asked, “What’ll you do to it?”
His whole body tightened. His hands clamped around her waist. It should’ve been a clue but it was with both shock and pleasure that she cried out when he thrust, impaling her. A dam had broken. It wasn’t her making love to him anymore, and all she could do was hold on.
Not in his wildest imaginings had Ryder believed Samantha so erotic, so capable of opening him up and shattering his control. How did she know just what to do and what to say to bring him to completion? He had been with other women, but none had so completely dominated his body as Samantha did.
He had never received such attention as when she was on her knees, swallowing his cock, and he was almost feverish as she sharpened his arousal and anticipation with kisses to his stomach and thighs. The warm seal of her lips around him had nearly stopped his heart and when she ordered him to fist her hair and come into her mouth…
The recounting of it nearly made him spend himself again.
Her hands were braced on his chest as he worked her against his cock. Her breasts bounced with every stroke and he had to close his eyes lest he succumb to completion. The slap of their skin matched the protestations of the bed. Her throaty moans let him know how hard to thrust, what speed pleasured her the most.
The air caught in her throat and she grabbed one of his wrists, but she didn’t ask him to stop. He knew she was rubbing her sex and he grunted with the effort of holding back his release.
A gasp was his only warning when her legs locked around his thighs, holding him inside her. Deep pulsations cajoled carnal sounds from her, but it was her breathy question that undid him.
“Can you feel me coming?”
His back arched and a harsh noise was wrenched from him as he spilled inside her. She undulated against him, drawing out the pleasure and mewling with satisfaction that she had finished him. He then crumpled onto the bed and gulped for air. His entire body was a dull throb. His skin was hot and his hair stuck to his neck and forehead.
Through bleary eyes, he saw her watching him. He wanted to ask her if she loved him, but he feared another silence as when he had declared his affections earlier. Worse, she might declare that he did not have her heart. The notion preyed upon him.
His arms were as heavy as a s
hip’s anchor but he pulled her down to his chest. She came willingly and rested her head upon his shoulder.
“Samantha.” His throat was tight. “I am quite certain when I say that…you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” She raised her head to look at him. “There is no other person on this Earth like you. I lo—”
She covered his lips with her fingers. He watched some struggle in her eyes, which filled with tears. He could hardly breathe.
“I love you too.”
Wherever his strength went, it came flooding back. He kissed her, his heart leaping and his cock hardening. She made a happy sound against his lips, then a surprised one as he rolled her beneath him.
He lifted his mouth and listened to her gasps as he rocked against her. “I love you.” He said it over and over, rejoicing in the fact and in the freedom to tell her.
As her legs wrapped around his hips, he hoped that Mary and Oliver stayed at supper for a very long time.
* * * * *
It was still early when Sam woke the next morning. Past dawn, but only barely. She raised her head from Ryder’s chest and winced at the ache in her ear. Ryder slept deeply. He looked exhausted, and it was no wonder after the many days of travel, an emotional evening and an impressive demonstration of his sexual endurance. While they recovered, she recounted what Webb had told her on the road. Ryder had remained silent, though his body tensed when she mentioned the affair. She kept her parentage theory to herself, but knew it was in his mind.
His hand was warm on her side. She was tempted to settle against him and go back to sleep, but her throat was dry and she needed to answer nature’s call.
She carefully lifted his hand from her waist. The bed creaked softly as she eased away from him and slipped from the covers. She felt very fragile when she stood, both her body and her heart. It had been difficult to confess her love, not because she didn’t love him—she loved him so much it hurt—but because she didn’t know what the locket had in store for her.
Would she be allowed to live in this time, or did she have an expiration date? To admit she loved him and then to leave him, even if not by choice, was a pain she didn’t want to put him through. If he was forced to move on without her and she had never confessed any love for him, wouldn’t that be easier, if only a little?