by Adele Clee
Ava covered her mouth with her hand as her breath came almost as quick as his. “It must have been difficult.” Compassion swam in her beautiful brown eyes. “How did you cope?”
Valentine couldn’t help but smile when he thought of his mother’s courage.
“Honora knew that if someone were to discover the truth it would taint our family name, would make it difficult for me making my way in the world. She cared for him, kept the secret hidden, made excuses when he was unwell, invited close friends to the house when my father was feeling his best.”
“Honora is loyal to a fault.”
Pride filled his chest when he thought of his mother’s sacrifice.
“Her life might have been different, but she loved him.”
“And she loves you. Very much.”
“Yes.”
Silence descended though he could almost hear the loud chatter of her thoughts.
“He died tragically.” The words left Valentine’s lips as if he were talking about a stranger, someone for whom he held no regard. A cold, clinical approach was a means of protection. “During one rather manic episode, he fell from the cliff on our family estate.”
Ava drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, Valentine. I am so sorry.” She crossed the carriage to sit beside him, captured his hand and hugged it to her chest. “I know what it is like to lose a parent in tragic circumstances. I know what it is like to feel so helpless you want to run away. Is that why you spent so much time abroad?”
It had taken many drunken nights with his friends, many hours engrossed in business to realise one could not escape the past.
“I left because I did not want Honora to live her life for me. I left to give her freedom, freedom to live, freedom from the haunting memories.”
“Then know that since making her acquaintance, she has talked about nothing other than you.” Ava brought his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He was thankful he had not taken the trouble to wear gloves. “I cannot tell you how thrilled she is to have you home.”
“And I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be back.”
It occurred to him that despite a week of turmoil and upheaval—a week far removed from the calm, ordered existence he thought he craved—he had never been happier in his entire life.
“Know that I am always here for you, Valentine, should you feel the need to talk.” Ava smiled. “I have admired Honora from the moment we met, more so now I know the hardship she has suffered. She truly is a remarkable woman.”
“She is, which is why I have never wanted to disappoint her.”
Ava nibbled her bottom lip as she studied him. “And yet you have not married Lady Durrant when you know how much Honora wants to see you settled.”
A sharp pang of guilt stabbed Valentine in the chest. But then realisation dawned. Marriage was about love, about loyalty, about trust and friendship. Honora had taught him that. He glanced at Ava seated beside him, gripping his hand to offer reassurance. The prospect of spending an eternity with her did not seem the least bit daunting.
He sighed as he gathered the courage to tell her what she meant to him.
Ava must have mistaken his silence for dejection. Pressing another kiss to his palm, she shuffled closer. “Mr Cassiel is an evil man with sinister intentions. Do not let his silly remarks affect you. And surely Honora must understand why you find the thought of marriage unnerving.”
Valentine was about to put her mind at ease, explain that he didn’t give a damn about Cassiel, that nothing would make him offer marriage to any other woman but her, not even his respect for his mother, but Ava cupped his cheek, leant forward and kissed him full on the mouth.
“You are everything a gentleman should be,” she said, kissing him again, her lips as soft as velvet. “You are the most remarkable man I have ever met.”
As always, she tasted of everything that was right with his life.
Valentine slipped his hand up to cup her neck, his fingers delving into her hair in massaging strokes. As her luscious lips met his once more, he was determined to show her that she had quickly become the most important person in his life. With a blinding passion reserved only for her, he made love to her mouth. In the slow, intoxicating way he might claim her body, his tongue swept over her lips before sliding into the warm, wet place that felt like heaven.
Heat pooled low and heavy in his loins.
Ava responded with the same intense level of intimacy. Her tongue tangled with his in a tantalising dance, moved to a sensual rhythm that left them both moaning into each other’s mouths.
Mindful that they were in a carriage, Valentine knew they had to stop. Except that her eager hands wandered over his chest, caressed his shoulders, exploring every line of muscle.
Her sudden urgency to touch him fuelled his desire.
Attempting to gather a firm grip on his restraint, Valentine tilted Ava’s head back and pressed his lips to the place where her pulse pounded against her throat.
“Valentine,” she panted. The word spoke of the hunger, of the craving that plagued him, too. “Don’t stop.”
Those two words stoked the fire burning in his veins.
“Don’t ever stop touching me.”
“Hell, Ava. You know how to tempt a man to behave scandalously.”
The more he lavished her with attention, the more she begged him to continue. He continued to suck and nip her neck in the erotic way that left her breathless. The yearning inside grew. The throbbing ache of his erection pressed against his breeches. His mind was lost in a heady state of arousal.
Dainty fingers traced a nervous path from his knee up to the top of his thigh. The temptress drew a groan from his throat as she dared to touch the solid length desperate for freedom. Encouraged by his pants of pleasure, she stroked him slowly through the material until his restraint snapped.
“Damnation,” he muttered, dragging her across his lap to straddle him. “I said I wouldn’t make love to you in a carriage.”
Heat smouldered in those dark brown irises. “I would not have you break a vow on my account,” she said in the voice of a skilled coquette.
“It wasn’t exactly a solemn promise.” He held her firmly on his lap while he shuffled forward and drew the blinds. Nothing would stop him having her now, not even his own damn conscience. “I don’t imagine it will be comfortable.”
“Stop talking. It is your turn to undress.”
“Undress? Madam, this will be a wild and reckless mating in a conveyance. There’s no time for anything else.”
Ava smiled as she shuffled off his lap. “It sounds thrilling, highly exciting.”
He had to agree.
While he unbuttoned his breeches and took hold of his throbbing erection, Ava hoisted her skirts up to her waist.
“How is it done?”
“You may sit astride me, or I can bend you over the carriage seat.” Lord, he could not believe he was having this conversation. “If we are to behave with wanton abandon, we may as well embrace the role.”
“May we try the latter?”
“Without meaning to sound like a libertine, I have no preference as long as I am inside you.” Love and lust, it seemed, went hand in hand.
The lady cast him a sinful grin. She turned around and offered him a glorious sight of her soft, round buttocks as she gripped the back of the seat.
Valentine came behind her. He slipped his fingers between her thighs, teased her until she was more than wet and willing. After an awkward fumble, he pushed inside her, so achingly slow the power of it made his knees tremble. There was nothing crude about their joining. The essence of this woman surrounded him, drew him deep to cement the bond that could not be broken.
Slick with the evidence of her arousal, he thrust inside her, deep inside, so deep the loud slapping was like an erotic melody to his ears.
“Do you want to move to a more comfortable position?” he asked, leaning over her to massage the sensitive spot between her legs.
“Not yet,” she panted, throwing her head back as her movements became fevered, more erratic.
He played her like a master pianist tinkled the ivory keys—with skill, precision, in the expert way that said the union was destined long before tonight. She came apart calling his name. She muttered something else, and in his desperation to know her innermost thoughts, he imagined he heard the word love.
With one more thrust, Valentine withdrew and spilt the evidence of his need for her into his hand. Reaching for his handkerchief, he cleaned away all traces of his recklessness before assisting Ava with her skirts and helping her back into the seat.
It took a few breaths for her to regain her composure. Her cheeks coloured crimson, yet it did not stop her watching him as he tucked his manhood back into his breeches.
“May I ask you something, Lucius?”
It was the first time she had used his given name. He liked the way the word sounded on her lips.
“As long as you’ve not changed your mind about the position and wish to try the other way.” It was too much to expect a man to make love in a carriage twice in one day, though he would have no problem rising to the occasion.
She chuckled. “Perhaps you should see if Mr Cassiel has an opening for an apprentice. You seem to have the ability to read my mind.”
As his mind played a mental picture of their amorous interlude, it suddenly occurred to him that the carriage had stopped.
“Any vigorous activity inside will be noticeable now we’re not rumbling through the streets.” He noted the mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re mocking me. That was clearly not the question you wished to ask.”
“No,” she said, offering him a smile. “I want to know if it is always like this.”
“It?”
“This wonderful thing that exists between us.” Ava waved her hand back and forth between them. “Is passion always so overwhelming? So all-consuming?”
“No.” Was this her way of asking if she meant something to him? “I have certainly never experienced a feeling like this. What happened at the beginning stemmed from an outpouring of emotion, the consequence of two people sharing a deep and abiding affection. What happened then was that physical lust got the better of us.”
“It did,” she agreed.
“I want you, Ava, in every way possible.” Valentine cleared his throat. He was about to take the biggest risk of his life. “Sometimes it is easier to express one’s feelings physically than it is to make a declaration.”
She swallowed visibly. “What are you saying?”
Valentine leant forward and raised the blinds. He would have the best light possible in which to judge her reaction.
Ava glanced briefly out of the window. “We’ve arrived in Park Street.” A sudden gasp left her lips, and she pressed her nose to the glass. “Valentine,” she whispered, despite the fact they were the only ones in the carriage. “Look.”
“In a moment, there is something—”
“There’s a man at Honora’s front door.”
“A man?” The comment distracted him. His mother never entertained gentlemen at home. His mother never entertained gentlemen.
“Pay it no heed. No one will answer at this ungodly hour.”
He was right. No one answered. No one needed to. The blighter opened the door and crossed the threshold.
“He is entering your mother’s home.”
The rogue turned to face them as he closed the door, the light from the street lamp illuminating the left side of his face. Valentine recognised the man instantly. As did Ava.
“Good Lord,” she said, just as shocked as he. “Tell me I am mistaken. Tell me that is not Jonathan.”
“No, you’re not mistaken.” Anger banished all romantic thoughts of love. Jonathan bloody Kendall was like a thorn buried deep in his backside. “And we are about to find out what the hell he’s doing stealing into my mother’s house.”
Chapter Seventeen
An icy shiver ran the length of Ava’s back, banishing the heat still simmering in her veins after her illicit encounter with Valentine. The image of Jonathan sneaking into Honora’s house had drawn her attention away from whatever the dashing lord was about to say.
“I’m sure there must be a valid reason for his call.” The comment sounded pathetic to her ears. What possible reason could Jonathan have for making such a late-night visit? Had Honora unlocked the door in open invitation? Or had he forced it from the jamb moments before they arrived?
“You understand that if he causes my mother distress, I will kill him,” Valentine said in the hard voice of a man who would do anything to protect his family. Gone was the smooth, husky tone she had relished mere moments ago.
“Jonathan may be a fool, but he would never hurt Honora.”
“Not directly, no. But there is only one reason why he would steal into her house in the dead of night.”
Ava scoured the recesses of her mind, trying to find a logical explanation. But Valentine was right. “You think he stole the ruby and swopped it for paste.” It was a statement, not a question.
“After his recent antics, you must admit the idea has merit. But we will soon know for sure.” Valentine opened the carriage door and jumped down to the pavement. “Wait here.”
Ava wasn’t sure if the command was meant for her or Sprocket. “I am coming with you.”
Valentine hesitated for a second before his hands settled on her hips. He lifted her to the ground but did not relinquish his grip. “Tell me that whatever happens here will not change the way we feel, will not change the affection that has developed between us.”
Ava sucked in a breath. Her brother’s duplicity was bound to make things difficult. But Valentine meant more to her than anything.
“Regardless of my brother’s crimes,” she said, placing a hand on his chest, “my love for you is not fickle.”
He stared at her as his breathing quickened. The beginnings of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Ava …”
“Come,” she said, pulling away from him. “Heaven knows what Jonathan is doing in there. We cannot delay a moment longer.” She captured his hand and drew him across the street.
“Once we have dealt with this matter, there are things I need to say.”
“Yes,” she said, nerves bringing a sudden bout of nausea to roll around in her stomach.
They came to an abrupt halt outside Honora’s front door. The house lay in darkness. Ava strained to listen, though no sounds of distress emanated from within. It did not bode well. Despite all that Jonathan had done to save her from Mr Fairfax, she could not forgive him this.
“Ready?” Valentine’s hand settled on the doorknob.
“Ready.”
He turned the knob gently, used two hands to prise the door from the jamb. The hinges creaked. Valentine paused, then he ushered Ava across the threshold and closed the door behind them.
Valentine slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “We will start by checking the drawing room,” he whispered, his mouth pressed to her ear. “That’s where Honora keeps the gold goblet she uses to store the ruby.”
Ava nodded.
Perhaps he was aware of her trembling legs, of her clammy hands and racing heart. “The truth serves us better than falsehoods,” he said before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
They approached the drawing room door, but the faint hum of conversation drew them farther along the hall to another principal room, a more relaxed space Honora used to entertain friends.
The deep reverberating tones of a masculine voice mingled with the quiet yet confident voice of the mistress.
Relief settled in Ava’s chest as she listened to the incoherent mutterings of their conversation. She touched Valentine’s arm. Touching him brought comfort. Touching him gave her the strength to deal with her troubles.
“They sound calm,” she whispered, “not at all agitated. Perhaps there is an innocent explanation.”
Valentine frowned. �
�Whatever brings him here, I suspect it involves a certain amount of deception.”
He had a point.
Ava noted the tension radiating from the man she loved. How she hoped it was not something to make him doubt his mother’s love and loyalty.
In a sudden move, Valentine opened the door and strode into the dimly lit room.
Ava followed.
The couple seated on the chintz-covered couch jumped in shock. Jonathan almost choked on his port while Honora placed her sherry on the side table and came to her feet.
“Lucius, what a pleasant surprise.” There was an uncharacteristic tremble in Honora’s voice that belied her look of innocence. “What on earth are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” Her gaze dropped to the scratch on her son’s cheek. When she glanced at Ava, a satisfied smile formed.
Valentine cast Jonathan a hard stare and her brother shuffled uncomfortably in the seat.
“What am I doing here?” Valentine said, his tone full of reproach. “I might ask the same of Mr Kendall.”
“Me? I came to call on my sister, and was worried to find her house empty,” Jonathan explained. So worried, he could not look his sister in the eye. “She was not there when I called yesterday, either.”
“And so you let yourself into my mother’s house at almost three in the morning,” Valentine said, avoiding the question of Ava’s whereabouts, “and she happened to be up and dressed and waiting to greet you.”
Honora chuckled. “Surely you don’t suspect us of conducting a liaison. Mr Kendall is young enough to be my son.”
“Of course not,” Valentine snapped. “Should you partake in a romantic relationship I hope the gentleman might possess a modicum of intelligence.”
“Now listen here,” Jonathan began though struggled to appear affronted.
“That is exactly what I intend to do,” Valentine retorted. “I will listen while you tell me what the hell you’re doing here. Since when do people make house calls in the middle of the night?”