by Julia Byrne
He should stop her, he thought distantly. She was racing headlong into uncharted territory. But his brain seemed to have seized. Then he stopped thinking altogether when her small hands closed gently around his throbbing shaft and stroked him until he knew he was going to explode if he didn’t get inside her.
“Luke? I know I said it can’t be that bad, but—” Some of the hazy desire left her eyes as she gazed up at him. “I don’t think this is going to work. I mean, you’re much bigger than me, so it stands to reason—”
He stopped her by the simple expedient of pressing his lips to hers. Somehow, while he kissed her into silence, he managed to free himself from those tantalizing little fingers. The effort had him groaning into her mouth.
“It will be all right, sweetheart,” he said when he raised his head. “Trust me. We’ll be perfect together.”
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. Then she smiled that sweet, innocent smile that never failed to catch at his heart. “No doubt there’s a secret to the whole thing that girls are not told about.”
“There is.” His throat felt so tight he could barely get the words out. Tenderness was flooding him. He had thought he’d left any such emotion far behind, but it was here, welling up from a place deep inside him and leashing him as nothing else could.
He stroked his hand down the center of her body until his fingers threaded through the dark curls shielding her femininity. Her tiny gasp, and the way her legs trembled then parted for him, were unbearably arousing. Just watching her respond to him made him ache.
“Look at us,” he whispered. He found the little bud that was the center of sensation for her and stroked gently. She was already soft, already wet, but he wanted her frantic again. “Look how beautiful you are, my darling.”
He tore his gaze away so he could watch her glance down to where his hand was caressing her. She made a shocked little sound. Heat bloomed over every inch of her skin, but he knew that desire was now more powerful than shyness. Her head fell back on the pillow and he felt her entire body soften, surrendering to pleasure, preparing to yield to him. The scent of her arousal was a lure he could no longer resist. Lowering his head, he put his mouth to her most vulnerable flesh in a kiss of devastating intimacy and at the same time gently slid two fingers into her.
She screamed and almost bucked straight off the bed. Only his weight across her legs held her down. “Luke! What are you doing? No! You mustn’t… Ohhhh. Oh, yes. Yes.”
Her siren song shot him straight to the crumbling edge of his control. He had to take her now or go mad. She was moving wildly beneath him, trembling on the brink of release, and he needed to be inside her when it happened.
Swiftly he moved up her body and pushed her legs further apart before withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself for as gentle an entry as possible. She cried out in protest at the sudden emptiness, then went very still as he began to push himself into her.
A gasp parted her lips. He withdrew slightly before pushing deeper. Her eyes widened with excitement and a touch of alarm. Then she flinched and dug her nails into his shoulders. “Luke?”
He brushed his mouth across hers. “It’s all right, darling,” he whispered against her lips. “Put your legs around me. It’ll be easier for you.”
She hesitated, then lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips. He could feel the wet heat and gentle pulsing of her flesh around him and knew he couldn’t wait any longer. Holding her against him with one hand beneath her hips, he joined their bodies with a powerful thrust that seated him to the hilt.
Emily cried out as pleasure and pain tore through her. She didn’t know which was uppermost, both were overwhelming. She pushed at Luke’s shoulders, making desperate little sounds as she tried to retreat from him. It was impossible. He held her in a grip of iron, the hand beneath her hips keeping her completely open and vulnerable to him. She felt stretched almost beyond bearing, but at the same time her inner muscles were quivering around his invading shaft in a way that had her shaking with the need to soften, to surrender.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you, Emily.”
He brushed quick little kisses across her lashes, her cheeks, her mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was trying to soothe her, to help her adjust. His entire body was shuddering with the effort necessary to hold himself still within her. Then as quickly as it had struck, the burning pain was gone, leaving only pleasure, and suddenly stillness wasn’t what she wanted. She gave another desperate little cry, this time one of urgency, and as if he was waiting for the tiny sound, his arms tightened and he began moving with a power that sent her senses reeling.
“Luke,” she cried as he swept her into a storm of sensation. His name was all she could manage. She ceased to think, ceased to know anything but the heat of his body over hers, his arms holding her against him, the hard male flesh moving inside her, invading, taking, possessing.
The sheer wildness of it sent her soaring. She surrendered all control, abandoned all restraint. She became a creature of fire and passion, meeting every fierce thrust of his body with the hot clasp of her inner muscles until his groans mingled with the cries coming from her throat.
It couldn’t go on like that. Release became as imperative as the wild beating of their hearts, the hot, frantic meeting of lips, of tongues, of hands. She tilted her hips, desperate to have more of him, all of him, and almost heard the explosion as Luke’s control shattered. He gripped her hips with bruising force and held her still while he plundered, ravished, and finally hurled them both into ecstasy. She heard the the ragged sound that burst from his throat, felt the hot gushing of his seed deep inside her, and came apart in a shattering release that bound them together, one heart, one body, one soul, for all time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emily had never felt so utterly limp in her entire life. She was boneless, a melted puddle—which was probably just as well because Luke was lying half over her. She vaguely recalled him leaving her for a moment, the soothing touch of a cool, damp cloth between her legs. Then he’d returned to the bed and more or less collapsed over her. He was heavy, but lying deliciously crushed beneath him like this held a sweet pleasure all its own.
A deliriously happy, very feminine smile curved her lips. She managed to lift an arm to curve it around Luke’s back. The powerful muscles there enthralled her. She stroked her hand down his spine, revelling in the sensation of heat and bare skin against her palm, and a low rumble sounded in his throat.
She smiled again. Her lion was purring.
“I’ll move in a year or two,” he mumbled into her hair. “Or if you keep that up, much sooner.”
Her mischievous giggle brought his head up. He eased his weight to the side so he was no longer crushing her and studied her face. A smile gleamed in his eyes. He bent to kiss her.
“I’m sorry I had to hurt you, sweetheart. But judging from that very smug look on your face, what followed was worth it.”
“Mmmmm.”
Luke grinned at her, then let his gaze move slowly over her body. His grin faded, to be replaced by the fierce look of desire that never failed to excite her. She felt her nipples pucker just from the intensity of his gaze and moved restlessly in reaction.
“I can’t stop touching you,” he rasped, cupping one breast in his hand. “You’re so beautiful, Emily. So small and soft. Just the sight of my hands on you is enough to drive me out of my mind.” He stroked his thumb across the soft underside of her breast, then released her and held her close. “But I think I’d better get you back into that nightgown, my darling. You’ll be too sore to take me again tonight.”
Emily considered the matter and stifled a sigh. He was right. Her nerves were humming a happy tune, but the flesh between her legs was a little tender. She remembered the feel of Luke inside her, and decided discretion was the better part of any more sensual adventure. At least for tonight.
She kissed his chest in a gesture of reluctant agreeme
nt, and felt him smile against her hair.
“There’ll be other nights,” he said. He sat up and leaned across the bed to retrieve her nightgown. As he turned back to her, the lamplight fell on the scar that had so horrified her when she’d first seen it.
Emily knew she could no longer ignore the hurt he had suffered. She wasn’t sure how he would react, but instinct had her sitting up so she could reach out and touch him.
Luke went very still as her fingers traced the long curve of raised flesh. He didn’t stop her, so she shifted closer and stroked her hands over him. There was another scar, much older by the feel of it, behind his right shoulder; a thin white line along one upper arm; the puckered mark at mid-thigh where he’d been shot. With only the lamp for illumination she couldn’t see the scars clearly, but she could feel them. And what she felt told a tale of years spent in the dark, dangerous world of espionage in a time of war.
“Oh, Luke.” She lifted her gaze to his, her fingers resting on the worst of his injuries. “This happened recently, didn’t it.”
“A couple of months ago. You don’t want to know about it, Emily.”
“You’re wrong,” she said as he shook out her nightgown and bundled her into it. She got her head and hands free and touched the hard line of his jaw with gentle fingertips. “I want to know what happened.”
“So you can tell yourself I’m too much of a risk?”
“No.” She shook her head. “So I know the reason for the shadows in your eyes. But only if it won’t hurt you to tell me.”
He watched her for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “There was a woman involved,” he said abruptly.
“Oh.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Not in that way. I’d uncovered a plot she and her partner hatched to infiltrate Wellington’s quarters in Vienna and assassinate him. It wasn’t much of a plan, but the woman was smart enough to stay in the background, playing the part of a housemaid. Until I intercepted the male half of the pair, I hadn’t suspected her. He was fast, I’ll give him that. He drew a saber and knocked the pistol out of my hand the second I challenged him. I only had a knife, but I could’ve taken him if she hadn’t come out of the shadows and shot at me while I was waiting for an opening.”
“Dear God!”
He smiled wryly. “Her partner was enjoying the fight. He was confident he’d eventually kill me, but she got impatient. The first shot missed, but it distracted the fellow long enough for me to kill him. I thought that was the end of it, but she had another pistol. The second shot got me in the leg. When I went down she picked up the saber and tried to finish me off.” He touched his scar briefly.
“Oh, Luke!”
“Somehow I reached my pistol and got my hand around it. Then I shot her,” he finished with chilling brevity.
Emily didn’t hesitate. She flung herself into his arms and held him tight. “Thank God you did,” she said, blinking back tears. Love for him, so overwhelming she thought she would simply shatter from the pressure of it, filled her heart. How had he survived all those years? How had he survived his wounds? She ached for the pain he must have suffered. Not only the physical pain. A man with a strong instinct to protect would suffer after being forced to kill a woman.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
His arms had come around her as soon as she’d launched herself at him. Now they tightened with such force she squeaked.
He gentled his hold instantly. “We were at the rear of the building where Wellington was staying. There were guards, of course, and the shots alerted them, but it was dark. It took them a few minutes to find me. By then I’d passed out. The Duke had a doctor stitch me up and dig out the ball. I was lucky. Nothing vital was injured. But I’d lost a lot of blood, and then there was the fever. Getting home was hell.”
“I wish I’d been there,” she said, raining frantic little kisses over his face. “I wish I could have helped you.”
“Thank God you weren’t,” he muttered. “Emily—” He cupped the back of her head and held her against his chest. “You’re so gentle and soft. It was bad enough that you saw me hit Charlotte. I didn’t want you to know I’d killed a woman.”
“She would have killed you,” she retorted. “And you stopped her from trying to kill Wellington, so I don’t think you need spare her another thought. As for Charlotte, you were facing another female armed with a pistol. I’m surprised you didn’t hit her harder.”
He laughed suddenly, the sound making Emily hide a quick rush of happy tears under the guise of hugging him.
“I should have known,” he said. “Thank you, my darling. I think you just set me free of something I didn’t even know was there.” He tipped her face up to his and kissed her very gently. Then turned her so he could lie down with her in his arms.
The lamp flickered as he drew the covers over them and Emily was abruptly conscious of time passing.
“I’ll have to go back to my own bed soon,” she said, snuggling closer. She stroked his chest as though to hold the feel of him against her hand for when she was alone.
“Ah. That, my adorable Miss Proudfoot, is one of the many disadvantages of an illicit affair. Marriage, on the other hand, means neither of us has to leave, no matter whose bed we’re occupying.”
All her questions rushed back in an instant. “Luke…”
He raised himself on one elbow so he could look into her eyes. His face was suddenly very intent, very serious. “Emily, I love you more than life itself. Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
She took a deep breath, stood for a moment on the brink of an invisible cliff—and stepped over the edge.
“Yes,” she said shakily. She flung her arms around him and held on tight. “Oh, Luke, I know I shouldn’t. What about your family? What are they going to say when they find out my mother was an actress? And where are we to live? Do you have a home somewhere? And what about—”
“Whoa,” he said, laughing. “Sweetheart, stop before my head starts spinning.” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, grinning at the startled look on her face when she found herself on top of him. “You did say yes, didn’t you, before that barrage of questions began?”
“Yes,” she said again. And this time, wrapped in the glow of happiness that shone in his eyes, she was very sure. “I love you so much, I can’t say no.”
“Then everything else will fall into place.”
“But my grandfather will—”
“Your grandfather,” he stated, suddenly grim, “should have the pompous stuffing ripped out him for treating you the way he did. If he was twenty years younger, I’d do it myself. But, sweetheart, not every family is so cold and inflexible. My relatives are going to love you.”
“Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully.
“Positive. My mother will weep tears of joy over you. God knows, she’s been wanting me to settle down for years. Be warned, it will be a soggy meeting. As for where we’re to live, I have an estate in Dorset, about half a day’s travel from here. My mother lives there and she would probably like us to be married in the village church, unless you would prefer a London wedding.” He studied the horrified look that crossed her face. “Thank God for that. As for where we’ll live, it will be up to you.”
“But you said your father farmed the land.” She frowned as she remembered it was probably one of those half-truths he’d told her.
He smiled ruefully. “That was the unadorned truth, sweetheart. My father loved the land. He farmed it himself, although in later years he had a steward to help him. He was a younger son, remember. He didn’t have a title and enormous estates to run. I doubt he and my mother went up to London more than a dozen times over the years.”
“What about you, Luke?” she asked gently. “Will you be happy there? After all, you left your home to find excitement.”
“Emily—” He framed her face with his hands. “I’ve had enough of that sort of excitement to last several lifetimes. Yo
u’re all the excitement I need. I want to live the rest of my life with you and our children.”
“Ohh.” Emily smiled, momentarily sidetracked by the thought of a little boy with Luke’s black hair and golden eyes. But the mention of children brought back her greatest concern.
“Luke?” she asked very softly. “What will you do with my school?”
He stared at her in surprise. “Why would I do anything with it?”
After all her worry he didn’t know what she was talking about?
Emily gripped his shoulders and shook him. Not that it did any good; he didn’t move an inch. “You must know perfectly well that when we marry you’ll own it.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.” His brows met. “Is that what you’ve been worrying about?”
Emily glared at him. “The question has crossed my mind a time or two, yes.”
“Sweetheart. Do you think I’d take what you’ve made for yourself? Good God, I’ll sign everything over to you the minute we leave the church if you like.”
“You’d do that for me? Not the minute we leave the church, but you’d give my school back to me?”
“Of course I will. Do whatever you like with the place. Sell it. Take it with us. Let someone else run it under your patronage and start another one in Dorset. I can afford it, if you’d like to continue teaching.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Emily’s eyes widened at the list of suggestions. “That will certainly take some thought.”
“We have time,” he said. “I expect you won’t want to do anything until the term ends and the girls go home for the summer. However, we’ll need to get married before then.”
“We will?”
He grinned at her with devilish intent. “Definitely. What with one thing and another, Miss Proudfoot, I somehow forgot to take measures to prevent a pregnancy tonight. In fact, I’m likely to forget every night, so an immediate wedding would be wise. I’m sure Miss Tibberton would agree.”