“Supper, sir,” a servant called through the door.
“Come.” Alex stepped away from her as the man entered, bearing a tray of food. “Set it on the table there.”
It was delicious. Caroline had never been overly fond of mutton stew, but she scraped her bowl clean with an extra piece of bread before proclaiming herself too full to move. Alex matched her bite for bite, and ate another half loaf besides. Brown ale quenched the meal, kindling a contented warmth through her.
“Let me see about finding a shaving kit.” He pushed back his chair.
“I don’t think the daughter will be able to provide that.” She waved her hand at him. “Go make yourself presentable, by all means—though it was unkind of you to not think of that before supper.”
He closed the door softly behind him, and she thought she heard a low chuckle as his footsteps faded.
She penned the letter to her uncle, painfully brief, then blew out the lamp on the table, leaving just the candle burning beside the bed. The one bed. Of course they would share it—the knowledge had been strung taut between them ever since the knowing look of the servant outside. It was foolish to even pretend otherwise. They both needed to sleep soundly in the comfort only a mattress and blankets would afford, and she craved his warmth and touch, the reassurance of his solid presence beside her.
If he harbored any lingering, gentlemanly notions about sleeping on the floor, she would not have it. Especially as she suspected he had not closed his eyes at all in the crofter’s hut the night before, but instead kept watch over her through the dark hours. Lines of strain and weariness bracketed his mouth, and his eyes were smudged with exhaustion.
He returned soon enough, freshly shaven, his black hair smoothed back, wet and gleaming. One lock fell over his forehead. She went to him and brushed it aside. He wrapped his arms around her, and she sighed.
“We’re sharing the bed, you know,” she said.
“Are we?”
“Yes.”
Their gazes locked and a charged silence wrapped them. Little fires raced over her skin, circled behind her neck. The air between them shivered with anticipation. Heat glowed inside her, as if she had taken the candle flame between her lips and swallowed it, the dancing fire illuminating her very bones. She could keep that light burning, sustained, forever. As long as he was near.
“You’ll have no argument from me,” he finally said.
She tangled her fingers through his hair and drew his mouth down to hers, kissing his warm lips, urgent and insistent. With an impatient sound he slid his hand around her back, fingers splayed, pressing her against him. It was not close enough. Not nearly. The folds of the dress bunched between them.
“Wait.” She tore free of him a moment, long enough to loosen the top buttons and let the dress slip off her shoulders, down to her feet.
Released from the engulfing fabric, she returned to his arms. He moved his palms along her sides, the touch sliding over her thin chemise. She had left her corset off. Nothing but sheer cotton and the heat of Alex’s hands caressing her skin.
The peaks of her breasts tightened as he moved his hands closer, closer. She gasped when he brushed his hands over her, the sensitive nubs tingling. Languid heat uncurled low in her belly, at the secret juncture of her thighs.
“Caroline. You are a goddess, truly.” His voice was husky with desire, the words breathed against her neck as she trembled, yearning, under his touch.
She wound her hands through his black hair. “Then I am your goddess, to worship as you please.”
His hands fell to her hips and he pulled her against him. The bulge in his trousers pressed between her legs, sending her desire flaring. “Worship you I will. With every tool at my disposal.” He stepped backward, nudged her until she was beside the bed, then guided her down. The candlelight flickered across his face, showed clearly the need burning in his eyes as he shrugged out of his coat and knelt over her.
“With my hands.” He set his palms on her shoulders and drew his hands down, excruciatingly slowly, fingers spread to cover as much of her as possible.
She arched up to meet his touch, let out a breath as his hands curved over her breasts, thumbs roving back and forth over her tight nipples. Sparks coursed through her, gratifying one hunger, while another built even more steadily.
As if sensing her need he moved his touch down, over her ribs and stomach, cupping her hips. And then, ah, then his hands moved unerringly to the apex of her legs, the hidden, womanly place that bloomed with heat and anticipation. A breath of cooler air as he pulled her chemise up, baring her to his touch.
“Open your legs, my goddess.”
She did, and he ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, pressing her even wider. He shifted, moved to kneel between her open legs as his hands caressed her, nimble fingers parting her even more. A jolt of fire as he brushed the hard nub of her desire. She let out a shuddering breath.
“Alex. Come to me.” She wanted to feel him over her, their bodies connected, his hardness stroking into her again and again until she was nothing but a conflagration in his arms. She wanted to burn with him, the two of them the blue heart at the center of the flame.
“Not yet,” he said. “I haven’t shown you all the ways I’m going to worship you.” He rose over her again. “With my mouth.”
His kiss was searing and possessive this time—a shiver ran the entire length of her body as his tongue met hers. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and held him tightly against her, the weight of him pressing her into the bed as he took her mouth with his own. They fitted together perfectly, her body curving against his. His trousers were rough against the length of her bare legs, her naked hips, the buttons of his shirt an unexpected hardness along her chest.
When his lips moved to lay a trail of kisses along her jaw she began slipping buttons free.
“Undress,” she whispered into the silky darkness of his hair.
“Yes.” He rose over her, gripped the hem of her chemise, and pulled it off over her head. His eyes burned as he surveyed her naked body. “That’s much better.”
“Not me…you.” She set her fingers to his shirtfront.
He stopped her, pulling her hands away. “Not yet. Not until I am done with you. Now, where was I?” Desire for her was etched across his face. Passion, need, and something more—something she dared not try to name. “Ah, yes. My mouth.”
He bent, lips descending to brush over her peaked breast, teasing, sucking until she moaned with pleasure. Ah, he made her feel so wanton, a fiery Aphrodite sighing under his skillful mouth. His hot tongue laved her until her nipple was taut and straining with desire. Then he moved to the other breast, lavishing the same attentions, coiling her tighter and tighter with need.
Need that could not be ignored any longer. She writhed beneath him.
“So impatient, my lovely goddess.” There was a smile in his voice. “But my worship is not complete. I want to taste your secrets.” His hand slid down to the juncture of her thighs, pressed lightly. “Do you remember the frescoes on Crete?”
“Yes.” Her voice was throaty.
“You wanted to know what they were doing, that last couple. I will show you.”
Hot kisses, laid openmouthed against her skin, down her ribs, over her stomach as he traveled down, to the center of her, to the pure heart of her womanhood. He spread her with his hands and then…pure heaven…the flick of his tongue there, between her legs. She moaned aloud, the molten pleasure as he lapped her, obscuring all thought. Hot and wet, he explored, tracing her folds, moving his tongue over the sensitive bud. She was made of nothing but flame, incendiary, leaping higher, until—until—
A shower of sparks coursed through her, a wall of fire sweeping close behind, her entire body ablaze with unutterable pleasure.
“Ahh…” It was her own voice, full of bliss.
She opened her eyes, finally, flashes of heat still sifting along her skin, to find him watching her. Satisfaction and hunger mingled in his e
xpression. When she met his indigo gaze a slow smile spread over his face.
“I believe my offerings at your shrine have been accepted.”
“I hope there are more.” She reached for him.
Hunger overtook the satisfaction and his smile sharpened. He pulled off his shirt, unfastened the waistband of his trousers, then paused. “There is one more thing I want to worship you with.”
Her gaze slipped to the bulge of him, about to be freed. She felt her body clench in anticipation. “Yes.”
“With my cock.” He slid his trousers down. Half in shadow, golden light flickered against his skin, glinted on the drop of moisture at the head.
Caroline watched the play of muscles in his arms, his smooth shoulders as he positioned himself over her. So male, and made so perfectly to balance her. She opened her legs wider, felt him nudge against her.
With a soft groan he slid inside. She parted for him, opened her softness and let him in, deeper, deeper, until he filled her completely. Until their bodies were so firmly connected it felt as though nothing could ever come between them.
She slid her arms around him and pulled him close. Desire flared, but eclipsing that, ten times brighter, was love. There was no escaping the knowledge, not now. Not for her. She loved Alex with everything that was in her, and that would never change. No matter how far he might go from her, no matter that his heart was still shackled to his past, she loved him.
It was enough.
Together, they began the dance, the slow circling of the sun, the reflected spiral of the moon. He stroked in and out of her, gentle at first, then faster. The whirl of seasons, long nights filled with fire and stars, storms wracking the sea and subsiding, the sun climbing toward zenith, burning bright, so full of fire.
Hot tears tracked her face as she watched him above her, as she moved beneath him, her hips obeying the tide of love. They rose together, faster, harder, flying for the sun on insubstantial wings held together with hope. But there was no falling into the sea. No. Together they dove upward—straight into the blinding heart of the star.
He shouted her name and she responded, voices tangling as their bodies tangled, burning, consumed until at last there was nothing left but cinders, floating softly down.
She laid her hand against his cheek. Alex. Beloved.
The candle flickered wildly and went out. In the sudden darkness, he gathered her close. She tugged the covers over their nakedness and they slept.
Chapter 24
Alex woke her in the silver light before dawn. All she wanted was to nestle down beneath the covers, curl up next to him and dream, but he was already up and dressed. He rubbed her shoulder.
“Wake up, Caroline.”
She made a face and rolled over, but he pulled the blankets back, letting the cool air waft against her sleep-warmed skin.
“I’m awake.” With a sigh, she rose, pulled on the black gown, and braided her hair, tucking the ends up to make a respectable bun.
“Here.” He set the hat atop her head and pulled the veil down. “No one will recognize you.”
“I hardly recognize myself.” She studied the somber figure in the glass. The veil set a thin scrim of darkness between herself and the world. She lifted it back up. They were safe enough here. When they met other travelers, then she would draw it closed.
“Come. The horses are ready, and I asked the innkeeper to provide us food for traveling.”
Caroline followed him to the threshold, then turned back. “My letter to Uncle Denby.” She snatched it from the table.
“We can post it downstairs.”
He held open the door to the servant’s stairs, narrow and dark, redolent with smells from the early morning kitchen. They emerged to find the innkeeper waiting with their provisions, and a thick wool shawl for her. Behind him, in the kitchen, she glimpsed a woman kneading bread and singing to herself.
Alex paid the man, instructed him to post her letter, then hurried Caroline out the back door. The clear, still air of morning wrapped them as dawn broke, a line of pale orange to the east. A groom was holding two horses. They whickered softly and one stamped its foot on the dew-wet ground.
Alex secured the sack with their provisions behind his saddle, then helped her mount. In moments they were off. She spared a wistful thought for the comfort of the inn’s bed. Likely the blankets were still warm.
Mist edged the fields as they rode, bearing north and east. Ahead of them the sky brightened, the road stretching forward, empty.
The hours passed quietly. Alex seemed increasingly wrapped in his own thoughts as he drew closer to his home and whatever waited for him there. Every conversation Caroline began trickled back into silence after a few brief exchanges. The words seemed too heavy to sustain themselves.
Or perhaps it was that they were both exhausted still. They had not spent the entire night in sleeping, after all. Her blood beat with the memory of their lovemaking.
They stopped when the sun was high, and rested in the shade of the hedgerow, sharing the simple fare the innkeeper had provided. The air had warmed, filled with the insect drone of early summer.
Caroline took a hunk of brown bread. “Alex.”
He looked up, startled, as if she had interrupted him. “Yes? Would you like more cheese?”
“Tell me about where we are going. Ravensbridge.” What had driven him from his home? She could not voice the words. Was there a lost love waiting for him, biding the years until his return? Her heart clenched at the thought. “Did you grow up there?”
Shadows gathered in his eyes. “Yes, until I was sent to school.”
“Do you have any brothers? Sisters?” She could not bring herself to ask about his parents—already she felt him withdrawing.
“One brother. Older.” He wrapped the cheese back in its packet, his movements controlled. “If you’re finished, we need to keep going. We’ll skirt York and be on the moors by this afternoon.”
Another several hours of riding passed, little but strained silence between them. Caroline tried not to fret, but there were too many problems weighing on her. Her uncle must be mad with worry, and Pen, who knew something of the danger Mr. Simms represented. And what of her school? There would be no endowment now from Viscount Keefe. She shuddered just thinking his name.
The terrain changed, fields giving way to rough heather. Alex shaded his face with one hand, glanced at the sky, then the hills rising on their left. At the next crossroads he turned his mount east and beckoned her to follow. His shoulders were tight, his expression set. Worry squeezed her breath as she prompted her horse after him.
At length they came to a bridge, double arches of stone spanning a dark river. The water moved slowly beneath, reflecting the clouds beginning to stack up in the sky. He drew rein on the near side.
“Pull the veil down.” His voice was low, strained. “We’re getting close.”
She tugged the netting over her face, then looked to him. Face taut, he stared, unmoving, across the bridge.
“Alex?” She prodded her horse next to his, set her hand on his arm. Even through his coat she could feel the tension, the tautness coiling through him. “Are we riding on?”
His lips thinned. “Yes.”
Still, it was another long moment before he urged his mount forward. The horse’s hooves thudded on the weathered stone as they crossed, and on the far side it seemed the air carried a chill.
Or maybe it was the expression in his eyes that made her shiver: cold, remote, as if he were traveling away from her to a place she could not follow.
They left the river behind and the road wound onto the moors. She had not imagined the chill. The wind was beginning to rise, bearing a scent of the sea, and dark clouds were scudding in from the east. Caroline halted a moment, gripped the corners of the sturdy wool shawl, and knotted it more firmly about her. When she looked up she found him watching her, a dark figure against a darkening sky, the wind lashing his black hair.
The road skirted the
top of a rough cliff. Alex guided his horse along the edge, glancing constantly down at the tumbled boulders as if searching for something.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
There was no answer. Perhaps he had not heard. A gust blew her veil, lifted the horses’ manes and tails. The sky was full of dark clouds now, the sun obliterated. Across the rolling expanse of heather a gray curtain of rain moved toward them.
“Alex—”
“There.” He pointed ahead to a sharp bend in the road, then dismounted, leading his horse forward. His limp was more pronounced than she had ever seen it.
Her mount twitched as the first fat drops of rain reached them. The storm was coming, but Alex was intent. He bent and touched the ground as if feeling something that radiated through the earth, and when he rose his cheeks were wet. Rain or tears, she could not tell.
“This place marked me—gave me my limp.” It did not sound like Alex, his voice emerging flat and distant. “It was here I struck the rocks in the dark of night, fleeing the horror of my own making.” He took another step toward the cliff, his coat whipped out behind him by the wind. “I had been driving as fast as the team would pull. More than once the wheels found the edge.”
He turned to her then. There was no trace of her lover in those haunted eyes—only a man grimly stepping into the tempest of his own past.
“I wanted to die.”
Caroline brought her closed fist to her mouth, her heart clenching. Drops tipped over the brim of her hat and clung to the veil like dew on a spiderweb.
He continued, voice remote. “The carriage upended and the horses dragged it until it caught here. My leg, trapped under me, torn. I clawed my way forward, cut the harness as the carriage tipped.” He pointed down over the face of the cliff. “There. I should have gone with it over the edge.”
She nudged her mount forward and saw it, the wreckage below, weathered and melting into the landscape, the outlines of what had once been a carriage still clear.
The sky opened then. Sudden, violent, the rain was on them, chains of water flung down from the black clouds. The wind whipped her sodden hair into her eyes. Her mount gave a shrill whinny. They had to find shelter. They had to leave this place.
All He Desires Page 26