“Stop it!” She tried to wrench away from him, but his fingers bit into her arm, her sketchpad sliding to the floor, scattering papers at her feet. “My work!” she cried, reaching out to retrieve her papers, a gasp of pain bursting from her lips as St. Giles yanked her up by her hair. His hand clamped over her breast, squeezing painfully, and her scream was muffled by his mouth as it brutally slammed down over hers.
The next moment, he was gone; his body pulled away so violently a breeze fanned her skin. He crashed to the floor with Caine standing over him like a god of war, the muscles straining in his forearm as he took the earl by the collar, his other fist plowing into the man’s jaw with a force that cracked the bone.
The earl whimpered at his feet as Caine raised his fist again. Bliss grabbed his arm to stop him before he killed the man, and his half-crazed eyes whipped to hers.
He swallowed convulsively, both of them trapped in some strange vortex of time before his gaze cut back to the earl. “Touch her again,” he snarled, “and I’ll cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat.” The earl’s head dropped hard against the floor when Caine released him.
Bliss caught sight of François’s frantic face as he shouldered his way through the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle. She shook her head, silently pleading with him to stay back.
Caine manacled one of her wrists with his hand and dragged her away, the mob parting as he led her through a heavy set of double doors to an unoccupied room, the bolt slamming home behind him.
With a vicious yank, he spun her away from him, sending her tumbling back against a gaudy purple velvet settee. He stood there staring at her, his gaze full of the storm’s tumult, his face damp with sweat. His presence was all-consuming, and Bliss couldn’t breathe.
When he began to advance on her, she leapt to her feet, backing further into the room. The anger in his gaze transformed into lust, intensifying the heat in the room.
Bliss’s body vibrated with fear and longing as Caine continued his steady progression toward her, his every movement embodying hedonism and simmering rage. Then he stood before her, his shadow enveloping her, his big frame a solid force impeding escape, his hand wrapping around her nape, pulling her forward and hard against his chest.
A burst of rain-moistened air blew in from the open window and the water drummed heavily against the eaves, a syncopated rhythm to the tumult inside Bliss at having Caine so near again, her love for him a crippling entity she could not shake.
“I should have killed St. Giles for touching you,” he growled, his eyes wild as he stared down at her. “I’ll kill any man who touches you.”
Bliss struggled against him. “Go back to your whore!”
His grip tightened. “This thing between us…I can’t fight it anymore.” His lips grazed her cheek. “You’re mine, Bliss. Mine.”
“I’m not yours.” She tried to break free from his hold. “You walked away. You let another woman touch you. I’ll never forgive you!”
His jaw clenched, and in the next instant he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the settee, laying her down. “I’m going to make love to you, Bliss. Then we’ll both know the truth.”
His mouth was against hers before she could protest, his arms imprisoning her as his lips slanted over hers, taking away her breath, her reason; her hands reached up to cling to his shoulders, to pull him down to her.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered harshly against her ear, feathering his lips across her jaw, down her throat. “Every day, every night. You haunted me, drove me from my bed. Made me crazy.”
“You hurt me,” Bliss half cried as he kissed the corners of her mouth, her eyes. “I thought I would die when I saw you with another woman.”
“I know, love. I know.” He soothed her with his mouth, heat building everywhere he touched, his fingertips lightly scoring her nipples through the material of her dress. “When you smiled at St. Giles…Christ, I couldn’t stand it.” He wedged his head against the crook of her neck, his hungry mouth trailing warmth. “I need you. I want to be inside you. I can’t let you go. You’re a fever in my blood.”
His hands were trembling as Bliss took hold of them and pressed her lips against his palms, feeling his shudder, her own need as great as his.
Her heart beat a wild rhythm as he undid the buttons at her bodice, her gaze holding Caine’s until the last pearl popped free, revealing the swells of her breasts beneath her chemise.
He made short work of her corset laces and pushed aside the material, baring her breasts, his fingers whispering over her nipples. She gasped with pleasure.
His hands were so large, so brown against her skin as he weighed the soft globes in his palms, massaging, then rolling the aching peaks between thumb and forefinger, making heat burgeon deep inside her.
He stood her up then, peeling her clothing away, his sensual appraisal stirring her blood until she stood before him completely naked.
“Straddle my lap,” he urged in a husky rasp.
Bliss did as he asked, craving the pleasure he could give her as his fingers settled between her mound, delving into the slick crease to stroke her. Her body was on fire for him, and a desperate moan rose from her throat as he slipped a finger inside her.
“Lean forward,” he ordered in a low, urgent voice, taking her nipple into his mouth and nipping it lightly between his teeth, grazing her, watching her.
She wanted to touch him, to give him a taste of how he made her feel, and her hands drifted to his groin. She unbuttoned his trousers, then took his erection and sheathed it in her hands, his silky shaft thickening against her palms as her fingertips smoothed over the head and around the crest. When a drop of moisture pearled on the tip, she swiped it with her finger and lifted it to her lips, sucking it into her mouth. Salt and heat.
“Jesus God, Bliss,” he groaned, bucking up against her.
She shimmied off him and settled between his thighs, wanting to pleasure him. “Show me what to do,” she whispered against his rigid flesh, her hand shaping his erection, the skin so smooth as she circled the head with her tongue. “Does this feel good?” She wrapped her lips around his shaft and took a little more of him into her mouth.
“Yes…sweet Christ, yes…”
Just touching him in such an intimate way spurred her excitement, her tongue trailing along a vein, down to the tight sacs at the base, where she tentatively licked. In reaction his every muscle contracted and tensed; his eyes were nearly black as he looked down at her, his hips lifting up to ride her tongue.
Cupping him with one hand while the other gloved the base of his shaft, her mouth slipped over him and closed tightly, pulling him in as deep as she could, again and again.
“Jesus…Jesus…”
He tasted so good, so hot and male.
He pulled her away, and positioned his turgid length between the pillows of her breasts, holding them tight against him. He began to pump, slowly, slowly, until his body was on the very edge. Then he lifted her across his lap. Her moans of passion filled the room as he suckled her, his mouth moving back and forth between her nipples, turning them into burning points of pleasure as his finger stroked her faster, lighter, focusing on the very tip of her sex.
On the verge of an earth-shattering climax, he gripped her hips and turned her over onto her hands and knees, rising up behind her, his rock hard shaft cradled against her buttocks, lightly rocking back and forth. Then he positioned his erection between her thighs.
“Hold me there against you.”
Bliss was frenzied with need, pressing his shaft against her wet heat as he began to slide back and forth, a silky pressure along the engorged tip, teasing so exquisitely, his hands cupping her breasts, her nipples more sensitive in this position as he tugged and lightly pinched, the core of her tightening, her moans escalating as he worked her body toward that bright pinnacle, moving faster and faster…
He entered her swiftly as the first molten spasm took hold of her, driving
himself in deep, his hand against her shoulders, pushing her down and bringing her hot core up tighter against him as he plunged into her, his thrusts powerful, taking all of her.
He showed her his endurance, promising to pleasure her for as long as she could take him, bringing her to another shattering release before pulling out of her, turning her around and bringing her down onto his straining erection, pumping into her as the last ripples still moved through her body.
Then he stood up, his shaft still deep inside of her as he pressed her body against the wall. Bliss wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he rocked inside of her, filling her.
“Caine…please, please.”
She was so mindless, Caine knew she didn’t realize that he was purposely holding back. Only in this, when their bodies were merging, could he give her the only thing he had ever been able to give a woman: pleasure. And he would give Bliss as much as was in his power to give.
He drove into her, the wall vibrating with his thrusts. He loved the way she responded to him, how she quickened and held him tight inside.
“Come on, love,” he whispered against her neck. “Shatter for me.” He pressed his chest against her nipples, those beautiful hard points that drove him crazy, and buried himself as far inside her as he could go. “Feel how deep I am inside you. Feel how much I want you.” He made his thrusts long and hard, and felt her tighten.
“That’s it,” he groaned as her slow, sweet pulses squeezed him.
Finally, she sagged against him. Caine smiled and kissed the top of her head, carefully carrying her back to the settee, where he cradled her against his chest until her eyes blinked open a few seconds later.
He kissed her then, a fierce, consuming mating that said what he couldn’t. He knew this could never happen again, that he had to walk away and leave her alone. He had to give her the chance to find someone else, even if it killed him to do so.
“Let’s get you home,” he murmured, refusing to meet her eyes.
They dressed in silence, but Caine could feel her gaze on him, wanting to hear something from him, to tell her that he hadn’t just used her again. But he would let her think the worst; it was better that way.
He led her out into the deserted hallway and down the back steps to the darkened alley, the mewling of an unseen cat echoing along the crumbling stone. Caine barely noticed the rain plastering his clothes to his body as he held his jacket over Bliss’s head.
A hackney barreled down the street, kicking up plumes of water in its wake, clearly not intending to stop. Caine stepped in front of it, the horses rearing as the driver pulled back frantically on the reins.
“Whoa, laddies! Whoa!” The team skittered to a jarring halt, nearly pitching the driver from his seat, his battered hat soaked with rain and drooping over one eye as he glared down at Caine. “Are ye a bloomin’ madman? I could ’ave kilt ye.”
Caine ignored him and threw open the coach door, handing Bliss up. He could see she was waiting for him to follow, but he wouldn’t, no matter what his heart wanted. Her eyes were luminous as she stared down at him.
It took every ounce of self-possession he could muster to close the door and step back from the curb, the pale oval of Bliss’s face staring out at him. He knew the sight would be forever emblazoned in his mind.
He forced himself to turn away but discovered his path blocked by two burly men, their distinctive garb clearly recognizable in the surrounding gloom. A hazy blur of bodies huddled around the tavern door behind them, watching avidly.
The taller of the two men stepped forward and took hold of Caine’s arm. “If you will come with us, monsieur.”
Caine glanced at the hand gripping him and then at the constable’s solemn face. “What for?”
“We are placing you under arrest.”
Caine heard the sound of the coach door opening, then his name on Bliss’s lips, questioning and frightened.
“What am I being arrested for?”
The second constable moved into position on the opposite side of him and manacled his wrist, replying, “For the murder of the Earl of St. Giles.”
Twenty-three
A man had given all other bliss
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Bliss heard only the frantic beat of her heart as Constable Barnaby ushered her into a windowless room at the Conciergerie. The prison’s bleak aspect and unsavory history could strike fear into even the most stalwart soul.
Kindly, the man draped a rough woolen blanket over her shoulders, assuming that her trembling was caused by the wet clothes that clung to her body. It wasn’t.
St. Giles was dead, and they thought Caine was his murderer.
They had taken Caine away at the tavern, not allowing her to see him or speak to him. Only François’s arms wrapped around her waist kept Bliss from going after him. Why didn’t he proclaim his innocence? He had nothing to do with the earl’s death.
“Better, my lady?” Barnaby asked, a flicker of concern in his brown eyes as he regarded her from beneath wiry brows, his ruddy face solemn.
Bliss nodded, hugging herself, trying to stop her shivering. “Caine did not kill the earl,” she said with all the conviction in her heart. “St. Giles attacked me. Caine was only protecting me from him.”
Barnaby canted a skeptical brow. “By slitting his throat, mademoiselle? I would say that is a bit extreme, wouldn’t you?”
“Slitting his…” A terrifying chill settled over her body and Bliss shook her head. “Caine punched him. That’s all.”
“The earl was found in the alleyway quite dead, and there was not another person with whom the man had an altercation beside Lord Hartland. We also have witnesses who say Lord Hartland had threatened to kill St. Giles.”
“Who said this?”
“His ex-mistress…” The constable scanned his notes. “Ah, here it is.” He looked up at her, studying her reaction as he answered, “Lady Buxton.” He tapped the edge of his timepiece on the table. “It seems Lord Hartland had ample motivation to kill Lord St. Giles. Not only did the earl steal the lady’s affections away from him, but apparently he was intent on usurping your affections, as well.”
“That’s not true,” Bliss protested. “Caine…I mean, Lord Hartland broke off his relationship with Lady Buxton. She was furious and vowed to make him sorry.”
“That is when he took up with you, oui?”
“Yes, but…”
“And you have reasons not to want to see him hang for his crime, of course.”
“Hang…?” Bliss closed her eyes to shut out the image.
“That is the punishment for such a heinous act.”
“But he didn’t do anything!” she hotly contested. “He was with me the whole time.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “He was? He did not say this to me. In fact, his lordship told me he was not with you. He claims he was alone. And that, I’m afraid, leaves no one to verify his alibi.”
Bliss stared uncomprehendingly at the man. “No, that’s not true.” In a rush of understanding, she realized what Caine was doing. “Oh, God. He thinks that if people know we were together, my reputation will be ruined.”
“Will it not?”
Bliss’s fury mounted anew. “Do you think I care about something so meaningless when a man’s life is in the balance?”
“Non,” he replied equably. “I think you love him, which is why I believe you’d be willing to lie for him.”
“I’m not lying!”
“Calm yourself, my lady.”
“I want to see him. I must see him!”
“I’m afraid that is impossible at this time.”
Abruptly Bliss stood up, her chair tipping back. Without thought, she ran past the constable, who yelled at her to stop.
She had to find Caine, had to get him to tell the truth. But where was he? The prison wa
s a maze of long, shadowed corridors that spread out around her like spider’s legs.
Huffing from exertion, the constable caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Do not fight me.”
Bliss spun around to face him. “You have to let me see him! I have to get him to tell the truth.”
“Forgive me if I fail to comprehend your devotion to him. From what I’ve heard, he willfully seduced you to win back his home. Did he not?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Such a man is not worth pining over, mademoiselle. I pray you heed me in this. You are young and beautiful. Forget about this one. He is not worth the heartbreak he will surely cause.”
Bliss stared at him furiously. “This is my life and I’ll thank you to stay out of it. You know nothing about Lord Hartland. You’ve labeled him unfairly.”
His lips thinned. “As you say, mademoiselle. Perhaps the magistrate will show him some leniency, as it does not appear that Lord Hartland set out to murder the earl, but was overcome by jealousy and killed his rival in a fit of rage.”
“He didn’t kill anyone! Why won’t you listen to me?”
He eyed her with ebbing benevolence, as though she was a recalcitrant child being brought to heel. “Perhaps this will make the situation easier for you to accept.” He dipped a hand into his jacket pocket and handed her a small mahogany box. “We took it from Lord Hartland when we brought him into custody. He bade me to give it to you.”
With shaking hands, Bliss cradled the box, staring at it for long moments, afraid to look inside. She couldn’t seem to catch hold of her breath as she lifted the lid.
A sob broke from her lips. Inside were her garter, a single silk stocking, a jade and pearl comb she had believed lost, several hairpins…and a dried bluebell.
“No…I won’t take this.” She glanced up at the constable, tears spilling from her eyes. “Take it back. Tell him he has to keep it.”
The man stared down at her with pity. “I’m sorry, my lady. I know it must be hard for you.”
The Pleasure Seekers Page 24