Tess smiled, the kind of smile only friends who’ve known one another since childhood can share. “Of course. I know just the place.”
And the Beast would sit, not speaking, but gazing at her. At last he found a few halting words, until they conversed daily. And as the time passed, they discovered a bond that felt forged in iron. And so it went, until the day the Beast asked her to be his wife.
Beauty and the Beast
Chapter 14
“This way.” Cara turned the key and tugged open the door. Soft lantern light spilled out of the entrance onto the well-worn cobbles. The welcoming glow was a relief after the dark trek behind the fashionable buildings on Catherine Street.
Garret held back, both brows raised. “Is this your surprise? I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve attended the Drury Lane Theatre often enough. Though I must admit, not once have I entered through a back door.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable.” She didn’t want to stand here on the street. What if someone saw them? “If it makes you feel any better, the theatre troupe always let Tess and I use this entrance as children. It was the only way we could see the performances. Besides, we didn’t want to disturb the guard out front.”
Laughter tinged his voice. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He stepped over the threshold. “I suspect your father had no knowledge of your passion for the theatre.”
“No, but he wouldn’t have minded as long as I was with Tess.” She yanked the door shut, then locked it after them. Her hand trembled as she replaced the cold metal key in her reticule. She clutched the bag to her middle and turned toward him, but refused to meet his gaze. Now that the moment had arrived, she didn’t have a clue as to how she should proceed. Their brief moments together had been spontaneous. Not once had she felt the awkwardness that now made her want to melt into the wooden floor.
He touched her arm. She started, then glanced up. His tone was gentle, but confusion shadowed his eyes. “I’m assuming, since you have a key, that our presence isn’t unexpected.”
“No, it isn’t. Mr. Kemble, the manager, is Tess’s friend. He made the arrangements.” She hated to think what the fun-loving gentleman had been told. Thank heavens the light wasn’t bright enough for Garret to see the blush she suspected colored her cheeks.
He moved into the hall, a slight expression of distaste on his face as he perused the patched plaster walls. “I see the recent renovations didn’t extend to this part of the building.” He turned to her. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
“It’s in the gallery. We need to go through the costume room.” She led the way.
Tess had ordered the lamps lit along their path, revealing elaborate garments tossed over ornately carved chests. Tables littered with trims, needles, and muslin patterns blocked their path, forcing them to weave back and forth through the room. The smell of the powders used on the wigs and the actor’s faces made her want to sneeze.
She held her breath until they came to the gallery, then exhaled suddenly as she stared up at the stage. Tess had outdone herself.
Cara recognized the props from Tess’s performance in “Cleopatra.” Silk scarves in jewel tones had been suspended on the stage, creating the illusion of a room. Inside, she’d placed a couch, actually a bed, with embroidered pillows strewn across the top. Several floor candelabras reflected light off the large golden statues of Egyptian gods that graced the corners of the space.
An ornate, scarf-draped table stood near the bed, laden with fruit, cheese, and bread. Leave it to Tess to think of food. However, at the moment, Cara didn’t believe she’d be able to swallow a bite.
“Are we here to see a performance?” The deep rich tones of his voice reverberated in the gallery. With a voice like that, he should have been an actor. She would have paid, simply to hear him speak.
His breath swirled around her ear, causing wisps of hair to tickle her neck. “No.” Her voice came out in a whisper.
He leaned closer. “I see.”
She dared a glance over her shoulder. His expression didn’t give her a hint as to what he was feeling. She moved away from him and backed into the stair railing, clutching it for support. Even in common clothing, he carried himself like a nobleman. The stark beauty in his chiseled features made her want to touch him to be sure he was real. Her stomach churned wildly as she turned and led the way up the few stairs to the stage.
What was she doing? A man like Garret could never want her. She must have been mad to think she’d be of interest to him.
As she neared the room, the urge to bolt overcame her. She turned, and ran into his solid chest. Embarrassed, she meant to pull away, but it felt oddly right to have her face buried against him.
He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. “What’s wrong?” His words whispered against the top of her head. “Tell me why we’re here.”
He smelled of night air and his own masculine scent. It reminded her of spicy ginger with a musky overtone. She’d recognize the fragrance as his for the rest of her life.
“Nothing’s wrong.” This was Garret. The man she loved. “I’d like you to kiss me now.”
His gaze warmed. “You’ve been ordering me to do that a lot as of late.”
“Don’t . . . don’t you want to?” She couldn’t keep the tremors out of her voice.
“That’s not the question.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I promised not to kiss you again until you asked. Are you asking? I’ll not stop again. Once I’m no longer bound by my word, I can’t vouch for my noble conduct.”
“I don’t want you to be noble.” She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, moistening it, even though her throat had gone dry.
“Indeed, but what if someone were to come upon us?”
“No one will.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “That was part of the arrangement. The doors are all locked and there is someone watching at each entrance. Tess made sure everything would be discreet.”
“I’m beginning to appreciate your friend.” He lifted her chin with his fingertips and studied her for a brief moment, then a moan emanated from his chest as he claimed her mouth—possessing her. He crushed her against him until she couldn’t breathe; but then again, she didn’t want to breathe. This is how the princess must have felt when the prince awakened her with his kiss.
She felt very . . . awake. All her senses jolted to life. The rough texture of his coat under her fingertips, the slight stubble around his mouth, even the uneven rise and fall of his chest, thrilled her.
Her arms slid up his back, her hands exploring the muscular contours. The layers of cloth were a hindrance and a frustration she couldn’t express without revealing her intense desire to feel the warmth of his skin.
She broke the kiss. “I want . . . you.”
Wonder mingled with joy on his face, making him appear young and vulnerable. He loosened her hair from its bun, running his fingers through the tangled mass. With great care, he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a small child, then laid her on the bed. She felt oddly plain amongst the brightly colored silk and pillows. He appeared magnificent as he discarded his coat and waistcoat. His movements sure, his gaze never leaving hers as he stripped the outer garments from his body. He radiated a fluid masculinity, which she found threatening, yet compelling.
Dressed only in his breeches and shirt, he knelt and removed her shoes and stockings, caressing each inch of flesh bared to his sight before moving on to the next item of clothing. His ministrations gave her confidence and made her feel as if she were the rarest of jewels. A treasure fit for a king.
He seemed as enthralled with her as she was with him. If there were a spell to make a night last a lifetime, she’d give up everything. Her school and life seemed to pall against the beauty of the moment.
Their gazes locked as he reached up under her skirt to remove her panniers and petticoats. She quivered as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and he rested his palm on the juncture between her legs.
No one had ever touched her there, and the forbidden nature of what they were about to do ignited an adventurous spirit she’d never realized existed. If this was to be her one night with him, she wasn’t going to hesitate.
She arched into his hand, startled at the pleasure he evoked with the rhythmic motion of his fingers at her core. An urgency built in the area above his hand. She reveled in the exquisite feelings. Her body seemed to move of its own accord. The need to touch him poured through her. How could she make him feel the same way she did?
“Stop.” Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
He withdrew at once and rose, but she sat up and caught the front of his shirt in her hands. Her breathing felt a bit ragged as she tugged the white linen free from his breeches and reached underneath the garment, splaying her fingers over the hard expanse of his stomach. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this—“she moved her fingertips upward over smooth muscular ridges—“ever since I watched you fight in the club.”
He gave her a slow, sensual smile that brought out the vertical lines in his cheeks. Her fingers paused. That smile would be the last thing she’d remember in this life.
“Please, feel free to touch me anywhere you’d like.” He grasped the bottom of his shirt and stripped it off over his head in one fluid motion.
She swallowed. He’d looked magnificent from a distance, but up close he seemed almost too perfect. Hercules come to life. Her hands trailed upward, exploring his bronzed chest. Golden hair sprinkled the area between his nipples. “You’re not like other men.”
He drew back, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not pale. Most lords seem to prefer white skin that hasn’t been touched by the sun.”
“Ahh.” He brushed the hair from her face, cradling the back of her head. “I’m afraid I practice my boxing skills outside. Does it displease you?”
“Nothing about you displeases me.”
Garret leaned down, his lips inches from hers. “Little liar.”
“I don’t lie.”
He brushed his thumb along the corner of her mouth. “No. I don’t suppose you do.” For a fleeting moment fear lurked in his eyes, then he drew her to him.
She abandoned any hope of rational thought as his lips covered hers. Sensations threatened to devour her as he loosened the lacings down the front of her gown and caressed her breast, running his hand over her taut nipple. Her world spun out of control. The exquisite torture of his fingers drawing the strength from her body.
After a short time, he helped her to her feet, but had to support her or she would have crumpled to the ground. Her gown fell into a heap around her ankles.
Her bare skin should have been chilled, but instead, a burning heat enveloped her as he continued their kiss and lowered her to the bed. The silk caressed her skin as he gently broke away and got up.
He removed his breeches and stood next to the bed, staring down at her. His manhood sprang stiff from its nest of blond curls. The sight frightened her a little, but she’d been in the worst parts of London and had unintentionally seen things she shouldn’t. Besides, Garret would never hurt her.
She reached upward and placed her hand on his silken shaft, firm and warm, in spite of the delicate texture of the skin. She sought to move her fingers in a circular pattern, the same way he’d done to her earlier.
He restrained her hand, then stepped out of her reach. “Not yet, my angel.” He slid the candle on the table closer to the edge so more of its light spilled over the bed. “You are exquisite.”
His gaze roamed her body, and she raised her hands to cover her breasts. He’d probably been with many beautiful women; she could never think to compare herself with any of society’s beauties.
“Don’t.” He drew her hands away and held them on each side of her head while he lowered his mouth to her chest, kissing first one nipple then the other. His lips lingered, teasing the tender peaks until her world focused on his touch. The stark heat in his gaze when he lifted his head reassured her in a way his words never could.
He lowered himself next to her on the silken sheets, kissing her, running his hands over her breasts. The pressure of his kisses deepened, causing her lips to part.
His exploration of her mouth with his tongue was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. Timidly at first, and then with greater boldness, she followed his example. He tasted of warm, salty wetness. Excitement swirled within her, tension built in the area below her waist. She clung to him . . .yearning for release from these sensations, yet some part of her wanted them to continue forever.
Without breaking their kiss, he moved over her. The hard velvet tip of his manhood nudged against the throbbing place between her legs, entering her slowly, then pressing forward until she clenched against the pain.
He lifted himself on his elbows and gazed down at her. The tenderness she read in his expression chased away her fears and she raised her hips, driving him deeper until they were one.
She brought her hand to his face, following each chiseled plane with her fingertip. Such a straight nose. The pad of her index finger outlined his lips, which could be so disapproving, yet light up a room with his smile. A memory would be all she had. Each feature and expression had to be captured in this one night.
He caught her fingertip in his mouth and began to thrust forward with his hips, sliding in and out of her, slowly at first, then increasing the pace. The feeling his movements inspired caused her to take her hand from his face and clutch the silk on either side of her body. She spiraled higher, the sensations becoming more than she could bear. Her body took on a life of its own, writhing under him, clawing his back, trying to find release from the pleasure that tortured her.
“Garret.” Her cry filled the room as she shattered into tiny pieces. Tremors pulsed from the spot where they were joined. He plunged into her and she thrust upward, needing to be a part of him. Suddenly, he froze, a cry caught in his throat, and he collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. Wonder enveloped her as she felt his warmth fill her.
She hugged him close, removing the tie from the end of his queue and tangling her fingers in his long blond hair. Her prince. No matter what the future held, it had been worth it—this memory would be hers till her dying day.
Garret gazed down into Cara’s luminous face, unrestrained joy filling him. She was his. No one could take her away.
He moved off of her and positioned himself on his side, one hand propping his head and the other resting on her waist. “I’m honored at the gift you’ve given me.” He searched her face. “But why?” She’d have had no way of knowing he’d intended to marry her all along.
“Because . . . I love you. And I wanted to prove that to you before we returned to Belcraven.”
She “loved” him. Joy shone brilliant for a moment, like a star shooting across the heavens, only to return to blackness. Would she still love him if she knew what he’d done? He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Ah, Cara, I don’t deserve to be this happy. I remember that first day I saw you standing on the stair. You made me think of a lost angel who’d fallen from the heavens.”
A small frown crossed her face, then she smiled. “Well, we’ve found each other now.”
“Yes, but how you ever came to care for me is a mystery.” His finger traced intricate patterns around her belly button. “I realize I’m difficult to love.”
“Nonsense, people just don’t understand you.”
“And you do?”
“You have responsibilities and you take them to heart. It’s part of the reason I love you.” She turned on her side and studied his face. “The role of duke isn’t easy, especially if it’s thrust upon you. You hadn’t been raised to the title.”
He turned onto his back. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard stories about Edward.”
“I know he was your older brother and that he died in a boating accident.”
A sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes. “It wasn’t an accident.
I wish to God it were.” He rubbed at the scar on his chin. “I killed him.” He turned to Cara, expecting a horrified expression.
She took the hand at his chin and drew it to her breast. “Go on.”
“There’s not much to tell. We knew a storm was brewing and even though Grandfather had forbidden us to use his boat, we took it out anyway.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “We were invincible.”
Anger washed over him at his own arrogance. “If only I’d rechecked the lines. I was so sure the boom had been lashed correctly. I’d done it a thousand times before. We were already far from land when the wind shifted and tore the wood and sail from its position. Edward never even saw the danger. The boom caught him in the back of the head and swept him overboard.”
Cara squeezed his hand. “What did you do?”
“I tried to save him.” He turned to her. “Really, I did. But the wind blew the boom back, just catching my chin as I dove into the water. I must have been disoriented. When I finally reached Edward, he was face down, being tossed about by the waves. I grabbed him, keeping his head above water and swam for the shore. I knew I’d never be able to haul myself back into the boat, let alone him. They found us later that night, the boat had splintered on the rocks.” He tugged his hand from hers and turned toward the sputtering candle on the nearby table. “I should have been the one to die.”
“Why?”
“Because Edward would have known how to be a duke. The Kendal name would never suffer if he’d lived.”
“It hasn’t suffered.”
“I wish you’d been around to tell Grandfather that. According to him, my brother would have made the perfect duke and I was a poor substitute.”
“From what I hear, your grandfather was a mean, bitter old man.”
Garret turned back and took her in his arms. Somehow simply holding her made his burdens lighter. “And what am I but a mean, bitter young man?”
The Perfect Duke Page 17