by Mia Marlowe
“Becoming attached to another person is a vexing thing,” he said softly. “I’m not sure I know how to do it.”
Well, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She stiffened under his touch.
“It makes thinking difficult because my mind is wrapped around you, my all-important Other. It makes taking action difficult because I must consider how what I do will affect you. It makes the simplest things difficult. Even something as easy as breathing because…not to be near you is to cease to care if I continue to breathe.”
She was back to melting again.
“How do people bear this business of attachment?” he asked. “How shall I bear it?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he took one of her hands. “I was wrong to order you not to use your gift,” he said softly. “I let my fear for your safety crowd out everything else.”
She released the breath she’d been holding.
He dropped to kneel before her. “My only excuse is that I love you.”
There. That’s it. Her other hand went involuntarily to her chest. She’d been fascinated with him from the first moment she looked into his handsome face. That fixation had grown into more with each moment they spent together. For him to love her back was more than she dared hope. But along with his love, she needed something else, too. “How can you love me, if you won’t trust me to Find when I need to?”
He looked down as if searching for the answer within himself. Then he met her gaze. “This is hard. More than anything, I want to keep you safe. I can’t do that when you use your gift. You’re beyond my reach. So, when you must Find, I’ll have to trust you.”
Samuel was giving on the sticking point. It was time for her to bend a little, too. “I won’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He nodded. “That’s a start. You know better than I what risks you run when you Find. Will you at least tell me when you plan to exercise your gift?”
“I can do that.”
“And while your spirit is flitting about, will you remember that I’m waiting for you to return, hardly daring to breathe?”
“That’s how I felt when you left me this evening,” she admitted. “I thought you might not come back.”
“I will always come for you, Meg.” He rose to his feet, brought her up with him, and claimed her mouth.
He tasted of whisky.
“You’ve been drinking,” she said.
“Only enough to help me see things clear.”
If a few drinks made him realize and admit he’d been wrong, she blessed the innkeeper for pouring them. She kissed him again.
Every time their lips met, Meg felt the same sort of lightness of heart she experienced when she went Finding. Their kisses were a search, trying to discover that unique self hidden inside. But this kiss was different. It was a kiss of knowing. They’d already been found. They knew each other’s secrets, bad as well as good, but they hadn’t turned away.
It was a minor miracle.
When she broke off their kiss, his eyes were dark with arousal. But she remembered there was a part of her he didn’t yet know. And he deserved to. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Talk fast,” he said as he untied the ribbon at the neckline of her chemise.
“It’s about the burglary at Camden House. The men I saw trying to steal the silver, I knew them, you see. They are my relatives.”
“I don’t have any living family except Grigori, but I imagine everyone has a few black sheep in their flock.” He nuzzled her neck and nipped her earlobe.
“No, you don’t understand. They are my…my flock. It was my Uncle Rowney and Cousin Oswald. I’m not what you think. I’m no lady. I was born in a barn. An actual barn. I never knew my parents. Uncle Rowney raised me. And he didn’t raise me for a ballroom. He taught me to pick pockets and lie and cheat.” As the words tumbled out, she pulled away from him. Feeling suddenly chilled, she started toward the fire. “I’m nothing but a low born pretender trying to fit into the duke’s Order by playing at being wellborn.”
Samuel grasped her wrists and pulled her back to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Giving you the whole truth about me,” she said. “And a way out, if you want it. I can’t expect a lord to love me.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Just to be in the same room with you settles me. One smile from you and I’m good for the whole day. I don’t want a lady, Meg. I need you.” Samuel’s breath was warm on her face as he caressed her name. “I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you, and that was before I knew you. Now I can’t stay away. I’m glad you told me about your childhood, but it doesn’t change a thing. We have something real, you and me. Something honest. If you think we don’t, I’ll walk out that door right now.”
Meg stroked his jaw, his beard stubble a bristly pelt beneath her palm. The raw hunger in his eyes threatened to buckle her knees. He wanted her. Her. Not some pretend wellborn Meg. He loved the real one.
She stood on tiptoe to brush his lips with hers. “What we have is real.”
He was on her then, claiming her mouth, his hands rucking up her hem to cup her bare bum with his palms. Then suddenly he stopped and looked down at her.
“This much is real, too,” he said, his voice passion-raw. “Grigori still intends to bed the woman I wed. Because of that, I can’t marry you. Not ever.”
“I know,” she said and kissed him softly, melting into him. “But would you have me go through life without having you? Should we never know tenderness, never know anything real? Love me now, Samuel. It will be enough.”
It would have to be.
Their mouths met. Samuel held her head immobile while his tongue played a lover’s game with her lips, teeth, and tongue. Her tongue darted between his lips until he groaned into her mouth. Longing rippled through her. Warmth pooled between her legs.
As they kissed, their hands found each other and their fingers entwined. Then Samuel slid his palms up her bare arms, skimming his fingertips to the hollow of her throat. A sparking trail of pleasure followed his touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses. “And so soft.” He bent down to pull her chemise over her head. A bit of night air slipped in around the shuttered window, cooling her heated skin.
Samuel stepped back a pace and let his gaze pass over her from head to toe. To her surprise, Meg wasn’t the least ashamed for him to see her. He’d seen her soul naked when she demonstrated her gift for him. What was a bare body compared to that?
“It’s my turn now.” Meg tugged his shirt over his head, and then worked the buttons at his hips with fingers flying. She made short work of stripping him. Taking in the strong lines of him, she reveled in his broad, heavily muscled chest and tapering waist. He stood like a statue and let her look. He was all that was masculine, all she knew of it at any rate.
She wanted to know more. He spread his arms wide and she stepped into them.
It was a little like drowning, Meg decided. She was engulfed by this man, but she didn’t care a whit. She gave herself up to him. His masculine smell, the way her skin tingled at his touch, her nipples hardening against his chest—he was a whole world. She let her hands roam, learning Samuel by touch. Meg discovered clenched muscle beneath taut skin. She learned he was ticklish on his left side. She found an old scar on his ribs and pressed her lips to it, making a mental note to someday ask him how he came by it.
Of course, Samuel was discovering a few things of his own. All the tender places he’d swept with his gaze, he now explored with his touch. His hands set her skin to dancing. He whispered her name, over and over. His voice played in her head like the wind ruffling through pines. She was warm and wet by the time he claimed the cleft between her legs. Samuel dropped to his knees before her.
Meg gasped as his tongue invaded her. He stroked. He nibbled. He took a tender spot she didn’t know she had between his lips and suckled. Her knees nearly gave way.
She twisted her fingers
in his hair. Her belly clenched. Inside, she was wound tighter and tighter, stretched thin as a piece of parchment. Then between one hitching breath and the next, the tightness snapped and she began to unravel. After the spasms ended, she would have collapsed, but Samuel caught her.
He carried her to her bed and stretched her out. Her spirit trembled with so much joy, she didn’t care what he did with her body.
Samuel stood over her, a smug grin on his handsome face. Not trusting her voice, she lifted her arms to him in invitation. He didn’t need to be invited twice. She welcomed the weight of his body, reveling in the way he sank onto her. His kisses were more urgent now, and she tasted herself on his mouth, all salt and musk.
“You are delicious.” He trailed baby kisses down her neck, along her jaw line and finally nipped at her ear. “Everywhere.”
“Where did you learn to do what you did to me?” Her heart still banged against her ribs, but at least she was capable of speech now.
“I told you. There’s a book in my library.”
“It must be some book.”
“You have no idea. There are even pictures. I confess during my younger years, I quite defiled that curtained alcove in the library while I studied the thing.” He slid off her and made lazy circles around her navel.
“You took me someplace I’ve never been,” she said breathlessly.
“Want to go again?”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. Hard.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “Roll over.”
Obediently, she turned onto her stomach. “This was in the book?”
“This and more.” Samuel ran his warm hand down the length of her spine. He teased the curve of her bum and drew something with his fingertip at the top of her crevice just below the small of her back. Tingles of pleasure streaked over her.
“Are you writing on me?”
“I am. That was my name. I claim you. You are mine,” he said. “Now guess what I’m writing.”
There was the straight line of an “I.” It was followed by an “L.” Then an “O.” By the time Samuel got to the “V,” Meg was trembling all over.
He finished his silent declaration of love, written on her flesh with the tip of his finger. Then he rolled her over and kissed her, settling his hand on her hot mound.
“This time, you’re in control,” he said. “My hand will move again only when and how you kiss me.”
Lightly, she brushed her lips over his and in response his finger flicked her sensitive spot, soft as a whisper. When she gasped, he crooked a brow at her.
“And that’s how the game is played,” Samuel said with a grin.
Meg kissed him more deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. His finger invaded her. She played with his lips, nipping and suckling and he did the same to her. She writhed under his talented hand. Finally she found a way to kiss him that set his fingers in the rhythmic motion her body needed. He took her to that dark secret place, but it didn’t remain dark. She crested with a burst of light behind her closed eyelids.
Her body bucked with the strength of her release. Then as she came back to herself, she discovered he was pressed against her hip, hard and relentless. She was utterly spent, satisfied to the core of her being, but if Samuel was still wanting, she couldn’t be completely content. Meg gave his shoulder a gentle nudge and he rolled onto his back.
“You’ve given me such joy,” she said. “It’s time for me to give back.”
“Giving to you is better than taking.” Samuel teased a taut nipple. “It pleases me to please you.”
Meg nipped his lower lip. “But you’re not as pleased as I intend you to be. Now stay still.” She shot him a wicked grin. “If you can.”
“I am putty in your hands.” He laced his fingers behind his head.
Her glance flicked to his groin. “Putty was never as hard as that.”
Meg had seen statues of naked men in art museums with Lady Easton, though most of them had their interesting parts covered with surprisingly small fig leafs. A leaf would have been woefully inadequate in Samuel’s case. He was the first real man she’d seen, so she let her gaze wander over his long body. Stretched out in the firelight, his muscles were rounded mounds, his nipples dark, his maleness at full attention.
“If you only intend to look,” he said, pulling a face, “it’s going to be a long night.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do more than look.” She climbed atop him and settled on his groin at the base of his erection. His ballocks tightened beneath her. Starting at the base, she stroked the length of him with one finger. His breath hissed in over his teeth and he rose to her touch.
“Now what?” he asked between clenched teeth.
Instead of answering, she kissed him. Then she gathered her hair in her hand and tossed its length up over his face. Slowly, she moved down his body, drawing her hair over his chest and belly. She hoped it felt like a thousand tiny fingers caressing him.
He moaned in pleasure. “Did you find that book in the library too?”
“No, of course not. I’d never ask Mr. Ingfeldt for such a thing.” Her cheeks heated, imagining the little librarian’s shocked face if she had. However, if they ever returned to Faencaern Castle, she might search for the book on her own. “What I did to you just now, I made that up myself. Since I’ve no education in these matters, you’ll just have to put up with my fumbling.”
“With a grateful heart!”
“No more words now,” she ordered. With her fingers and mouth, she explored him, conscious of every snatched breath and quivering muscle. When he groaned softly, she showed pity and took him in her hand. She stroked him with a galloping rhythm, but he couldn’t bear it long.
Samuel rolled over, pinning her beneath him and entered her in one long thrust. They moved together as one. It was joy unspeakable to have him inside her. Holding him. Engulfing him. The bed creaked under them like a chorus of crickets as their rhythm sped up.
She sensed the pressure building steadily in him. Samuel’s ballocks tightened and his whole body stiffened. His seed pulsed into her, hot and steady.
Spent and gasping, his weight sagged onto her for a moment, before he raised himself to look down at her. His heart glowed in his silver-gray eyes. Meg kissed his throat, tasting the sweat-damp saltiness of his skin.
A loud cheer erupted in the taproom downstairs.
“What in the world is that about?” she asked.
Samuel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and shook his head. “Us, I imagine,” he said with a lopsided grin. “The innkeeper warned me that this bed is noisy enough to be heard in the room below.”
“You’re joking.”
“I fear I am not. In the heat of the moment, I forgot about the noise, but our only alternative would have been to brave the floor and, creaky or not, the bed is much more comfortable. Don’t you agree?”
“I agree that I’d like to have been told we might be overheard,” she said stiffly. How would she ever descend those rickety stairs and face the innkeeper again?
“After a certain point, we weren’t talking much. Besides, we’re supposed to be married,” he said. “This is what married people do, especially after they’ve had a disagreement. Once I came back up here, I’ll be bound the inn’s patrons were laying wagers on how long it would be before they heard the bed again.”
“You mean you talked to everyone in the common room about our ‘disagreement’?” She would have classed it as a fight serious enough to end their relationship. After all, their argument touched on the core of who she was.
“I only confided in the innkeeper.”
“Who probably can’t keep his teeth together if his life depends upon it. Unfortunately, it’s not his life at risk. It’s ours.” She gave his shoulders a shove and he rolled off her. “If your uncle comes and asks about us, you’ve just made us much more memorable.”
“I don’t think Grigori will search for us in this direction. If he follows the trail
to the dead end in Scotland, he won’t necessarily look for us heading toward Cornwall.”
“Can you call up a vision of him to see where he is?”
“I could, but there’s always the danger that he’d be looking for me in a scrying vessel at the same time. Normally, he can’t see me in one, but if I open myself from this end, he might be able to. We can’t risk it.” Samuel tucked one arm under his head. “Grigori probably expects me to try to take you back to the duke in London.”
“Which is where we ought to go.” Surrounded by the other members of the Order and under the duke’s protection, Camden House was the only place she’d ever felt safe.
Samuel shook his head. “There must be somewhere else. Some place not connected with the duke.”
She had no family to run to. Rowney and Oswald were why she’d journeyed to Faencaern in the first place. She couldn’t go back to the castle. She wouldn’t be safe in London. Suddenly it was too much to bear and she burst into tears.
“Meg, love.” He pulled her close to him. “Don’t fret. I’ll figure something out. Trust me. I’m sorry I spoke to the innkeeper about us and—”
“Hush.” She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “A little embarrassment is the least of our worries. And the bigger problems are not your fault.”
“They aren’t yours either. Let’s let them rest for the night. The rain is coming down harder which will make travel difficult, but it’ll be difficult for Grigori, too. We’ll stay here a few days.” He hugged her tighter. “I won’t let anything harm you. As long as there is breath in my body, I swear my father will not have you.”
He slipped a finger under her chin and kissed her on the forehead. His expression wasn’t the least tender. Determination hardened his jaw and dug a deep groove between his brows. “You may believe me,” he promised.
“I do.” Meg kissed his lips. She wanted peace between them. She wanted to feel there was nothing beyond the four walls of their chamber, that no one threatened and they were what they claimed to be.