by Leslie LaFoy
"Sweet Sera," he whispered, dragging the carriage blanket over her, tucking it close around her, kissing her brow. "My sweet, sweet Sera."
She shifted slightly in his arms, her cheek burrowing feebly against his shoulder. "I'm here, angel," he assured her, drawing her closer. "I have you. We're going home."
"Cold."
He shifted about, keeping her covered with the blanket as he opened his coat and drew her inside. Resting his cheek on her head, he savored the scent of her, the feel of her cradled against him. How close he'd come to never holding her again. "I was so afraid," he whispered, his chest aching, tears welling in his eyes. "I thought I'd lost you, Sera."
With a contented sigh, she melted into him and softly murmured his name. The fullness in his chest bloomed and flooded through him. There was no resisting the power of it, no retreating from the truth. And he didn't want to.
He gathered her close and shared the truth with her. "I love you, Sera. I love you with all my heart."
CHAPTER 22
Sera awakened with a start and then, seeing the comforting familiarity of her room, eased back into her pillow. It was nice to be among the living, she thought, looking up at the ceiling. She moved her arms and legs, stretched her shoulders and her neck, and decided that she didn't hurt too badly-especially considering all she'd been through the night before. Her wrists and ankles burned a bit; not enough to bring tears to her eyes by any means, but enough that she doubted that she could tolerate stockings or cuffs for a day or two.
She lifted her arm and studied the bandage wrapped and tied around her wrist. Carden must have done that for her. After her bath. It had been dark and he'd talked to her softly. He'd kissed her and told her to dream of him.
She'd slept so deeply after that.
There were other snippets of memory. None quite as clear. There was a vague recollection of Mrs. Miller being tucked under her arm, of Anne tending the fire in the hearth, and of Sawyer checking her brow.
But there were no memories of how she'd come home.
Nothing after she'd seen the scolopendras racing over the bed. Which was a blessing, she knew. Before that moment, though ... No, she wasn't going to look back, wasn't going to remember. It was done. She and Carden had survived. That's what mattered.
And that she get herself out of bed and back into life, she admonished herself. She glanced over at the windows, at the slit of light peeping past the draperies. The soft light of mid-morning. Yes, she needed to be up and about.
She stretched languidly, happily, then pushed aside the coverings and sat up. There, lying at the foot of the bed, was her wrapper. Lying atop it was a shiny new hand spade tied with a bright red ribbon. Grinning, she slipped from bed and scooped it up. One end of the ribbon had been passed through a paper tag.
You'll find the rake in the conservatory.
Laughing, she quickly saw to her morning ablutions, pinned up her hair, slipped her feet into her mules, snatched up her wrapper, and set off to find him.
It was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen. Yesterday the conservatory had been barren and brown, a disgrace to horticulture. And today ... The palms grew to the very roof, green and lush and thick. The air was moist and warm and scented with flowers, their colors splashing vividly from front to back, top to bottom.
The only thing that remained the same was the furniture and it was where she'd arranged it. And sitting in a chair, his bare feet propped up on the wicker table, sat her handsome rake. He had the most beautiful smile, the most wonderful eyes. Closing and laying aside his book, he rose and came to her, his gaze never leaving hers.
"Good morning, angel," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her lightly. "How are you feeling?"
Safe. Treasured. Loved. "Hardly as sore as I expected to be," she replied because she knew that was the kind of answer he wanted. "What happened in here?"
"Lady Godwin, she of the spit-and-twig conservatory, decided she needed a new one if Lady Caruthers was getting one. And since her old one has to come down before the new one can go up, there was a question of what to do with her jungle in the meanwhile. I very generously offered to keep it for her."
"All of this has been moved since yesterday afternoon? How, Carden?"
"It's been two days, two nights, Sera. The doctor said we should just watch you and let you sleep off the laudanum.
So we did." He bent his head and brushed a kiss over her lips. "And while you were dreaming of me, I had Paradise moved for you."
Her heart filled to overflowing, she gazed up at him and wondered at the marvel of his kindness, his caring.
"Have you slept at all?" she asked softly.
"A bit here and there. But enough," he replied with a shrug. "Would you like a cup of tea?" His smile widened.
"I'd offer you a brandy, but aside from it being a bit early in the day, the doctor also said neither one of us should be drinking spirits for a least a week. So far, I've been very good about heeding his advice."
She cupped his cheek and searched his eyes. "Are you all right? What did Gerald do to you?"
He cocked a brow roguishly. "I have a rather healthy knot on the back of my head. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes." She started to step out of his embrace, but he held her tight and turned his shoulders so that she could see the nape of his neck from just where she was. The knot was the size of an egg. "Oh, Carden," she whispered, thinking of the pain he must be enduring.
He turned back squarely to her and the light in his eyes had nothing whatsoever to do with pain. "Camille says kisses make bumps feel better."
. "She's right." Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him, reveling in the taste of him, in the wondrous way his lips fit against and welcomed hers. Heaven was kissing Carden Reeves. She could easily spend a lifetime doing it, she decided, drawing back.
"Don't tell Camille, but your kisses work much better than hers do."
She laughed and traced a fingertip over his lower lip.
He kissed it and then said, "I have something to show you."
She arched a brow. "The scar on your thigh?"
Laughing, he took her hands in his. "Close your eyes and trust me."
Sera had never trusted anyone as deeply and unconditionally as she did him. He drew her forward and she went knowing that he wouldn't let her stumble. A sound caught her ear and she tilted her head to better hear. "Carden, is that water falling?"
"Lady Godwin's former gardener is a stickler for creating what he calls the proper atmosphere. He's also aces with pipes and rocks."
"Former?" she asked, her wrapper brushing a gardenia in passing.
"He's my gardener now."
"When am I going to meet him?"
"Not today. He has the day off. He's definitely earned it."
If the man had moved the contents of an entire greenhouse and established it in another over the span of two days, he deserved not only a day off, but a medal, too.
They were nearing the waterfall; the sound was becoming clearer. It was over to her right. It couldn't be a very big one; the splashing wasn't loud enough for the water to drop from a height any greater than half a meter.
He stopped, saying, "Just stand here and don't peek."
He released her hands and she let them fall to her sides.
Yes, the waterfall was there, just ahead and off to the right as she'd thought. Carden had moved behind her.
His hands went to her shoulders and he gently adjusted her until she was facing the waterfall straight on. "All right, angel," he said quietly. "Open your eyes and tell me what you think."
Sera gasped in amazement and brought her hand up to cover Carden's as she tried to take it all in. It was a room, thickly walled in greens, splashed by all the colors of the rainbow. The waterfall was there-on the far side-just as she'd expected. But it was so much more. At least three meters high and half again as broad, the water rippled silently down the face of black stone until it broke over a ledge and cascaded into a wide ba
sin. And slightly to the left and before the fall was a high four-poster bed, draped in netting and appointed with bright white linens.
"Are you pleased?"
"Oh, Carden," she whispered. "It's my fantasy."
"Do I play any part in this fantasy of yours?" he asked, sliding his arms around her midriff and pressing a lingering kiss behind her ear.
"A most prominent one," she happily admitted.
He kissed the curve of her neck. "You'll tell me if I do anything wrong?"
"Of course," she murmured, knowing that any way he touched her was perfection.
Kissing his way 'back to the hollow behind her ear, he untied the sash of her wrapper. "How am I doing so far?"
he asked, his hands gliding up her torso to cup her breasts through her night rail. Suckling her earlobe, he slowly scraped his thumbs over her hardened nipples.
Her body thrumming, her core going molten, she desperately asked, "Where are the girls?"
"Walking in the park with Honoria," he answered, kissing his way back to her nape, his thumbs sending shivers of delight coursing through her. "After which they'll be going to luncheon together. It will be late afternoon before they return."
"And Sawyer?"
"Off on errands. With a very extensive list."
Oh, Lord, her bones were dissolving. "Aiden and Barrett?"
Nuzzling beneath the edges of her wrapper and night rail, he kissed the curve of her shoulder. "Aiden is busy with his ship business. Barrett is on an investigation of .some sort. I did invite them to dinner this evening, though."
Her senses were flooding, the heady spiral bearing her upward. "You've seen to everything."
"I pride myself on being thorough."
She could feel his smile against her skin. She had to do something about slowing his thoroughness or-in less than a minute-she was going to be a sated puddle at his feet.
"I've noticed," she said raggedly, turning in his arms and placing her hands flat on his chest, "that you pride yourself on a great many things, Carden Reeves."
She was riding close to the edge, trying to keep from tumbling over; he could see it in the light of her eyes. "I happen to be very good at a great many things," he said, resting his hands on her waist, giving her a temporary reprieve. "And false modesty is so annoying, don't you think?"
"There's a difference between modesty and humility."
He grinned. "I'm not inclined to be humble."
"So I've noticed," she countered, laughing softly.
"What else about me have you noticed, Sera?"
"You're a talented architect," she answered, her gaze dropping to his chest as her hands moved to the center of it. She opened the button of his shirt.
He mentally counted. Only three were fastened before his shirt met the waist of his trousers. "And?"
The next button opened beneath her fingers. "Despite your declarations otherwise, you're also very good with children."
"And?"
The next one parted with the buttonhole. She looked up at him. "You're very, very good at kissing."
"Yes, I am," he agreed, lowering his head to prove it.
He moved his mouth over hers, possessing her gently as his hands slipped down her hips and back to cup her. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him, and parted her lips to catch his lower one and slowly stroke it with the tip of her tongue. Delight rippled through him and he drew back to smile down at her. "And you're very good at it, too."
"You inspire me."
The look in her eyes ... "Oh?" he taunted, his heart racing.
"To do the most wicked and wanton things." She opened the button on his trousers.
''That's my fantasy."
She smiled and arched a brow, opened the next button.
"Shall we combine yours and mine and see what happens?"
He knew what was going to happen. This time. The next. Today. Tomorrow. Every day for as long as he lived.
He was going to love her. With his heart and soul. His body was never again going to be his alone to command.
She was going to shred his intentions every time they came together. She would drive him mad and past restraint and he would let her because she was the only one who could, because he was powerless to stop her. And because he would never feel as whole, as complete, as he felt when joined with her.
"Love me, Sera," he whispered. "Please love me as much as I do you."
Her every dream, her every hope. "I do," she answered, her heart overflowing, her soul on wing. "I love you, Carden Reeves."
He smiled and bent to whisper a kiss across her lips as his hands went to her shoulders. He pushed her wrapper aside and she released him to let it slip down her arms, past her fingertips, to pool on the ground at their feet.
His fingers trailed up the curve of her shoulder, the length of her neck, and he tenderly cradled her face in his hands. "Tell me .what you want, Sera." -
"You."
The' light in his eyes was wicked, thrilling. "Any particular way?"
"Naked would be nice," she answered, slipping her hands between them.
He cocked a brow and grinned, took a half-step back and held his arms out to the sides.
His surrender sent a fiery jolt of heat into her core.
Breathless, she opened his trouser buttons with trembling, impatient fingers. His shirt buttons, too. She skimmed the palms of her hands up over the rippled contours of his abdomen, the hardened planes of his chest, and to his massive shoulders. She found his gaze and held it as she pushed his shirt aside, as he lowered his arms and let it slide away.
She drew her hands down along the same chiseled path, watching him, reveling in the dark spark of anticipation she saw come into his eyes. Watch me dare, Carden Reeves.
With deliberate patience, she slowed her touch at his hips, deepened the friction between the palms of her hands and his skin. His breath caught and his chin came up. He grasped her shoulders, holding her there, holding himself steady.
His smile disappeared and he closed his eyes as she stroked down his thighs. He stopped breathing as she started back up and came to the center. And when she took him into her hands, he moaned hard and deep and tightened his hold on her.
It was the most magnificent of tortures and Carden surrendered himself to the pleasure of it, to the mastery of her touch, knowing that he couldn't long control the urgency coiling low in his loins.
"Sera," he warned, "you're pushing my limits."
"I know."
The laughter rolled up from deep in his chest and he opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him in unholy joy. He took the front edges of her night rail in his hands and tore the thing straight down the center. Her eyes lit up and her mouth formed the most inviting little O.
"That's it," he declared, chuckling and drawing the gown over her arms and letting it fall away. "You don't get slow and gentle this time."
She slipped her hands to his hips and the trousers slid down as she arched her brow and laughingly countered, "Perhaps I don't want slow and gentle."
The line was fine and she was daring him to hold it.
His blood heated another impossible degree. "Oh, angel," he taunted, moving slowly behind her. She watched him over her shoulder just as she had in Lady Hatcher's greenhouse.
"You're going to get slow after all," he whispered, cupping her breasts. Slipping her hardened nipples between his fingers, he gently squeezed them. "Do you like that, Sera? Does it feel good?"
"Yes."
Suckling her earlobe, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, he rolled the peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.
"And that, Sera? Do you like that?"
Her knees melted and she closed her eyes, leaning into him and trusting him to keep her from falling. The hard length of him pressed into her flesh and through a shudder of pleasure she gasped, "Yes."
He trailed the tip of his tongue along the curve of her ear and then released her nipples to place his hands on her waist. Turning her, he
swept her up into his arms, carried her to the bed and set her on the edge. Her eyes were bright, shimmering with desire, and he looked into the depths of them as he took her breasts back into his hands.
Scraping the pads of his thumbs over the crests, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. She closed her eyes and sighed and he came back for another kiss, this one deeper and more possessive. Her arms twined around his neck and her lips parted in invitation. He accepted, gently invading, touching, stroking. She moaned and, beneath his thumbs, her nipples hardened another degree.
Drawing back, he feathered kisses at the comers of her mouth and then moved deliberately downward, kissing and gently suckling the slender column of her throat on his way to the feast of her breasts. She drew a long, hard breath as he neared a rosy summit and he paused for just a moment before he slowly drew his tongue over it.
"Oh, Carden," she whispered raggedly.
He blew gently on the wetness, smiling as she started, moaned, and arched toward him. "Do you like that, Sera?"
he asked, his lips a mere breath away from the treasure.
"Do you want me to do it again?"
Her answer was wordless, but undeniably clear and direct.
She drew her arms from his shoulders and placed them behind her on the bed, arched her back and brushed her nipple across his lips. Reveling in her forwardness and happy to reward her, he obediently, languidly licked her.
Once, twice, three times. And then she shifted, turning slightly to offer her other breast.
He obliged her. And himself. Lapping her ever so slowly once, twice. "Tell me if you like this," he whispered, taking her gently between his teeth and rapidly flicking her with the tip of his tongue.
"Oh, Carden."
Releasing her, he kissed his way to the other breast and paused. "Was that a yes?"
"Yes," she declared, pressing her nipple to his lips.
"Don't stop."
Taking her offering between his teeth, he answered, "At your command," and then teased her, pleasuring her with his tongue. Then, true to his word, he didn't stop. He took her peak wholly into his mouth and suckled her, pulling at her deep and hard and not at all gently.