“Devil take it!” Dare muttered. He produced a linen handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, leaned forward, cupped her chin and dabbed at her eyes. “Why should you care what your brother does?”
“Because Father will send him away if he gets himself in a pickle.”
“That would be Lancelot’s own fault, Trudy. Not yours. You must stay out of this. You have your own problems.”
She blinked. “I do?”
He pushed his handkerchief back in his pocket. “Your larcenous ways. I have not forgotten the skill with which you removed my pocket watch. One does not develop such a light touch without considerable practice. I meant to ask you at Devonshire House, but we were... distracted. How long have you been stealing, Trudy? How much have you purloined as the Mayfair Shadow?”
“I am not a thief!” She straightened her spine and affected an indignant glare. “And I most certainly am not the Shadow!”
Dare cocked one eyebrow. “You did a fair imitation of it when you took my watch.”
“That was nothing more than a harmless parlor trick.”
A muscle jumped along his jaw. “And this?” He swept her cap off her head and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “Is this dressing up and sneaking out a parlor trick? How long have you been practicing this one? Does it amuse your mother and father?”
She realized he was gritting his teeth. He was truly angry. Furious, by the look of him. And that gave her only a moment’s pause. Then, “By what right do you criticize me?”
“What right? By God, I’ll show you what right!”
Chapter Nine
HE MOVED TO her seat so quickly that she had no time to prepare herself, then pulled her against him with one arm and slipped his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head with the other. “How dare—”
He silenced her by placing his mouth over hers, claiming, searing, and scorching her clear down to her soul. Instantly aflame, she wanted to weep with the sheer pleasure and excitement but all she could manage was a breathless moan. She basked in the way he touched her, the way his tongue swept over hers, the way he held her as if he’d never let her go.
After what seemed an eternity, he broke the kiss and breathed raggedly into her ear. “By that right, Trudy. That, alone, entitles me to intervene and halt your path to perdition.”
She was not certain how a kiss had granted him that right, but she was not inclined to argue. It certainly felt true at that moment. “Dare, I do not mean to upset you, but—”
“Damn it, Trudy! I care about you. God knows I didn’t want to. God knows I’ve been struggling with the very concept. You fly in the face of everything I believe in. Everything that has ever made sense to me in this world. Any match between us would be the biggest misalliance of the past fifty years, apart from Prinny and Caroline. Doomed to failure. But I cannot simply stand aside and watch as your name becomes synonymous with disaster, and you ruin yourself, or invite a scandal so large that the ton would be talking about it for years, if not generations.”
He cared about her? He was struggling with the concept? Should she be flattered or insulted? This was no profession of love. It was a lament of an unwise, unwelcome feeling. Well, she knew a thing or two about that. She should be doing everything she could to keep Collingwood at bay. As far away from the Carr family as possible. And, instead, she’d nearly betrayed the fact that her brother was the man he was hunting.
She rested her forehead against his chest and took a shaky breath. “I think, Lord Collingwood, given the insult to your sensibilities and your obvious moral conflict, that it would be best if we kept our distance in the future.”
His muscles tensed beneath his jacket. “Is that what you want, Trudy?”
“You have been quite good to me, and I have enjoyed our... friendship. I would not wish to compromise you in any way.”
He held her away from him, a puzzled look on his handsome face. “You would not wish to compromise me?”
“Yes. Is that not what you are saying? That you have been struggling with the concept of caring for me? That I contradict everything you hold dear? That any possible alliance between us would be a disaster?”
He closed his eyes and his lips moved as if he were indulging in silent curses. After a moment, he shook his head. “I am a fool, Trudy. You have a way of making me forget myself and muddling my words. What I meant is that despite those things, I cannot get you out of my mind. I’ve never been quite so fascinated by a woman as I am with you. I’ve come dangerously close to compromising you and, if I’m to be a gentleman, I must warn you against me. Do you understand?”
“Not... quite.”
He groaned and returned to his own seat to face her. “It means you cannot trust me. I will likely seduce you at the first opportunity. I will compromise you, Trudy.”
“Shall I find a way to discourage you, Dare?”
“Save leaving for India yourself, you couldn’t.”
The physical ache was nearly enough to double her over with pain. Unable to meet his gaze, she glanced out the window at the passing street lamps. “Oh, I think I could.” Merely mentioning the fact that her brother was the Mayfair Shadow would send him running. If he knew, he’d turn Lancelot over to the authorities. And, if he did, how could they ever build a future—even one as merely friends? No. Their friendship could never survive such a thing. Her heart twisted in her chest at the impossible muddle.
He shook his head. “Do your best, but I cannot conceive of a reason that would make me abandon our... whatever this is.”
“Alas, I cannot conceive of a reason why I should discourage you.” She turned to face him again, hoping her desperation did not show on her face. “You are the only man who has tempted me beyond a dance or an evening of meaningless flirtation. Or to make me question the concept of marrying for gain—whether for position, money or reproduction. I had never questioned whether Laura loved Colonel Burke. Never imagined a life lived in subjection to a virtual stranger. You, at least, I know and... and... bear some fondness for.”
“Likely infatuation. Or indigestion.”
His casual dismissal angered her. “Do not tell me what I feel, Collingwood.”
“I beg your pardon.” His mouth quirked in smile. He paused and looked as if he were debating a weighty issue, then leaned forward and took her hands in his. “I think we are both quite mad. But, Trudy, will you marry me?”
She was stunned. She knew she must look like a gauche fool, her mouth agape and her eyes wide. “I... I...”
“I know you think that you must wait for Laura, then Fiona. But after Laura’s wedding, if not before, will you stand before a minister with me?”
“Mother would never permit—”
“I shall talk to your father tomorrow. He will see the expediency of a prompt marriage. He and I will come to an agreement.”
Marriage? To Collingwood? Everything in her cried out in joy while every fear she had for Lancelot chilled her to the bone. “I... am not the wife you need, Collingwood. You are a peer. You have a brilliant career in the House of Lords. Everyone says so. Your contributions in Parliament could help shape the future of the nation. An unsuitable wife could ruin all that.”
“You are precisely the wife I need.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips. “You will keep me from becoming too full of myself. Too rigid and stodgy.”
She smiled, remembering her words on their first meeting. “I fear it may be too late for that.”
His laugh warmed her through. “And that is why I need you.”
“I am inappropriate. Impertinent, incorrigible, and wayward.”
“Reckless. And, dare I hope, wanton?” He pulled her into his lap, held her close, and dropped a poignant kiss on her upturned lips—a kiss she understood with her heart.
“I had not been until I met you,” she confessed. But she was lawless, too. Her secret could ruin Dare’s reputation and career. Could compromise his very principles and morals. How could she subject him to that whe
n she adored him? Ah, but how could she betray Lancelot when his very life and future depended upon her silence?
“Why the hesitation, Trudy? Say ‘aye’ and we’ll be done with this.”
“I... I will think on it. There is so much that I—”
“Have I misread you? Did you not just confess to fondness for me?”
She slipped her arms around his neck. “This is just so absurdly sudden. Not at all in keeping with your reputation for being cautious and prudent. We have only known each other scarce over a week. And there are things that... that I must settle before I can...”
His smile faded. “Dear God, Trudy. You swore you were not the Shadow.”
“I’m not.” But she was the next thing to it.
“Then you can have no secret dark enough, dangerous enough, to deter me.”
“Everything is in such a muddle. Laura doesn’t love Colonel Burke. Fiona has a secret beau, Skippy refuses to be reasonable, Mother is all nerves and on the brink of hysteria most days, and Father hides at the bank so he will not have to deal with us. I cannot add another problem to that list.”
“None of that is your responsibility, Trudy. And what is this about Laura?”
“She told us—Fiona and me—that she doesn’t love the colonel. That she has only loved once, and that the scoundrel gave her the cut. She is throwing herself onto the altar so that Fiona and I can marry. But how could we find our happiness at her expense?”
“Laura is likely having bridal panic and doesn’t know what she feels. She would not have entertained Burke in the first place if she hadn’t liked him. Your mother is in her glory. Your father is doing what men do when faced with domestic matters. And Fiona... well, Fiona will have to look out for herself. Come, Trudy. You are the one I care about. What do you want? For yourself?”
The one thing she couldn’t have, of course. Him. Useless to deny what he already knew. “You, Dare. But—”
He cupped the back of her head and kissed her until her mind spun and she tingled in the strangest places. She’d grown to crave the feel of the hard planes of his chest, the strength of his arms, even the clean scent of his shaving soap, and she thought she could kiss him all night.
All too soon, he lifted his head and whispered against her ear. “You have me, minx. You’ve had me since your first insult. No one has ever dared that before.” He paused to nibble her earlobe and chuckled when she shivered. “I do not think I have suffered the like since my first term at school.”
“You are a very odd man if insults win your heart.”
“And yet... you want me.”
“I’ve always wanted the things I cannot have.”
“I am already yours, Trudy.”
For the moment, perhaps. But he had no way of knowing how tenuous her hold was. One whisper of the truth and he would turn his back. “Do I? I rather thought I aggravate you and confuse you by turns.”
“You do.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But my life has never been more interesting.”
Interesting, yes. But, damn it all, loving Trudy was going to be messy. She was his opposite in almost every way. There’d be no tidy, rational, bloodless declarations. No temperate emotions. No easy path. Life with her would be varied, exciting, unpredictable and passionate. All the things he’d shunned until she’d turned his world on its ear. Oddly, he had no regrets. He’d made his choice and he was content with it.
Now all he had to do was convince Trudy to overcome her reticence and do what they both knew she wanted to do. Marry him. Meantime, whatever her compunction against marriage, it could not be anything dire enough to deny their mutual attraction. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—despoil her, but he was not above pleasuring her and reminding her of the sweetness she could find in his arms.
He claimed her lips again, long and thoroughly, and when her head fell back against his arm, he knew he had her in his palm. He cherished the tender place beneath her ear and just above her collarbone. The vibration of her low moan tickled his lips and brought him to erection. Her fingers tightened over his shoulders as she pressed herself closer.
His head cleared enough to shout directions to his driver. “Keep driving, Harper, and don’t stop until I tell you!” Cavendish Square be damned!
They sank back onto the leather seat and he fumbled impatiently with the folds of her simply tied cravat—nothing he hadn’t done for himself on many a night. Ah, but now it was insanely erotic because it was Trudy he was undressing. He slipped one knee between her legs, pushed her jacket down her arms and tugged her shirttails from her breeches as she gave likewise attention to him. He couldn’t wait to see what she wore beneath.
Nothing! Glorious nothing. She hadn’t even banded her breasts to flatten them. No doubt she’d never anticipated being discovered. Ah, too bad for her. And most fortunate for him. There was nothing to impede his progress to those pale, beckoning swells. The tips were rosy now, and tightened into little buds. Thank heavens Trudy was not the sort to coyly cover herself in maidenly modesty.
She looked up at him, her eyes dilated and sultry, and reached to pull him to her, then sighed deeply when he fastened his mouth around one perfect bud. She arched and emitted a sound he’d swear was a purr. And a moment later he was taken by surprise when she began to pluck at his waistband. Surely she couldn’t mean to—
Yes, she did! She made quick work of the buttons of his flap and began to push his breeches down his hips. “Wanton,” he murmured in her ear. “Wickedly, wonderfully wanton.” But he couldn’t let her continue. He was not that much of a rake. Not yet. He only wanted to bring her to the brink of madness, and release her. Make her acknowledge she’d been made for him.
He stilled her hand with his own and groaned. “No, Trudy. You cannot trust me to resist you if you touch me. I want you too much.”
“I... I do not want you to resist me, Dare.”
Her breath was heated and teased his ear. She was a seductress—a bit clumsy, innocent, but somehow more erotic than the most practiced courtesan. Still, he was wiser and more experienced than she, and the burden of restraint lay upon him.
She shivered when he separated from her. He looked into her eyes and could see her confusion and disappointment. Yes, her emotions were transparent. She wanted him. Dear God, she wanted him. Worse for her, he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her this very moment.
She arched to him and the lure of the hollow of her throat was too much for him to deny. He kissed her there, softly, felt the wild beat of her pulse against his lips. She was too open, too vulnerable, too trusting.
And, sadly for her, too damned tempting.
At that precise instant, his scruples disappeared and he was done resisting, done denying the inevitable and pretending that they could stop what was happening now. Sheer madness. They’d been moving toward it since they’d danced in the ballroom at Carlton House.
He teased her breasts with his teeth and tongue as he tugged her trousers over the curve of her hips. Silken ivory skin appeared, then a crisp thick thatch of dark gold. Dare’s hands began to shake. Desire had never had this effect on him, nor driven him to such lengths.
Nor had it ever silenced his conscience as it did now.
He drew the firm peak of her other breast into his mouth and took the tip between his teeth, gently pulling and sucking, and moved his hand downward. He found the juncture between her legs and felt her hold her breath as he ran his index finger along the cleft. She was heated and humid.
Instinctively, Trudy lifted one knee to give him better access. The glide of his finger as it found her core made her gasp in delight. And crave more. She tilted her hips upward, seeking to deepen the contact. The pleasure intensified with that tender invasion, and with the increased pull of his mouth on her breast. She arched to his hand and his finger slid inward, then was joined by another.
A moan came in the intimate silence, broken only by the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. His moan or hers, she couldn�
��t have said, though she rather suspected it was hers. She tugged again at his trousers, desperate to touch him as he was touching her, longing to feel his strength and power resting in her palm. But, with the first touch of her hand, he pulled away.
“Dear God, Trudy! I need no urging. Leave me be this time, so I can make this easier for you.”
She wasn’t particularly worried. He seemed to know rather well what he was doing. But she couldn’t resist... just once... touching that uniquely male part of him. “Please...” she gasped, grateful to have gotten that much out coherently.
When she was younger, from her vantage point high in an apple tree, she’d glimpsed animals on the farm mating. Witnessed the driving force—almost violence—of the mating instinct, but she’d never realized humans could feel the same mindless, instinctive need. The need to go forward, no matter the cost, that she was feeling now.
“Easy, love,” he whispered, his voice something between a low growl and a moan.
That was permission enough. She touched him lightly, not quite sure how sensitive he might be. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But he seemed grimly determined not to react as she closed her fist around that appendage and felt it jump in her hand. How curious it was—velvet and steel, fire and ice. Frightening but compelling. And when she smoothed her finger over the tip, he grimaced as if she’d wounded him.
“Sorry.”
“No,” he said between gritted teeth. “Satisfy your curiosity, but do not kill me with it.”
“I’ll be gentle.” She smiled, intrigued with the notion that her touch could kill.
He laughed. “Those are my words, Miss Carr.” He slipped his fingers deeper and continued a rhythmic stroking.
Within moments her skin tingled, her cheeks burned, her breasts tightened and she wanted—needed—something more. She arched to his hand, seeking the next sensation, desperate to find where it led. He must have recognized the desperation in her eyes or in her sighing because he knelt between her thighs, covered her mouth with his in a deeply passionate kiss, removed his hand and pressed downward as she lifted to him.
A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors Page 73