by Darcy Burke
“No, thank you,” she said softly. Then she removed her bonnet and set it on a table near the door.
Daniel moved to help her take off her spencer.
She smiled up at him as he took the garment and laid it over the back of a chair. “Thank you.”
The afternoon was bright, and the draperies were open to invite the spring light inside. Sunbeams streaked across her hair, painting the rich brown strands with gold. She tipped her head up at him and the light caught her hazel eyes, illuminating a thin green ring just around the pupil.
She opened her reticule and withdrew an object. Opening her palm, she revealed her father’s watch fob.
His insides immediately tensed. “How did you get that?”
“From Lord Aldridge.”
Bloody hell, she wasn't just impulsive, she was downright foolish. He didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm from his tone. “Somehow I doubt he just brought it to your town house.”
She gave a half-smile and her cheeks pinked a bit. “Well, he did. Somewhat. He came to see me, but while I’m happy to have my father’s fob back, I don’t think it was worth what I had to endure.”
Now she was scaring the hell out of him. He moved to stand before her in three quick steps. “What happened?” God help the earl if he’d touched her.
“He told me lies. I hope,” she added, her eyes guarded as she looked up at him. There was a darkness to her gaze that raised his hackles.
He urged himself to remain calm. As a constable, he’d learned to maintain his equanimity, and it would serve him well now. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
He gently touched her elbow and had to fight the urge to pull her against his chest and kiss her senseless. He’d wanted to do that the moment he’d seen her in the foyer, but now, knowing she’d somehow been at another man’s mercy, the primitive male inside of him wanted to stamp her as his.
She seemed blessedly unaware of the turmoil in his brain as she allowed him to guide her to the settee. She perched on the edge and he sat beside her—close, but not too close, which was a damned shame.
The fob rested in her palm and she glanced down at it before she spoke. “Aldridge came to see me, and I’m afraid I shared more than I ought.”
Her admission did nothing to ease his racing pulse. “What did you do?”
The intensity of her gaze was both alarming and exciting. “I warned him you were compiling evidence against him.”
He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He was so close to catching Aldridge. All he needed was the note Jagger would intercept and deliver. “You didn’t.”
The pink in her cheeks flushed darker. “I’m afraid I did, and he told me I should be worried that you were mounting evidence against me.”
“He what?” He couldn’t keep the word from exploding from his mouth. So much for keeping calm.
“He said you were corrupt, that you’d put him into contact with a fence you knew. And then he told me not to say a word about it to you. Indeed, he told me I should stay away from you entirely and return to Kent.”
Daniel had learned violence at a relatively young age, thanks to his father’s and then his chosen profession. He didn’t like to hurt people and tried to avoid it when possible. However at this moment he wanted nothing more than to throttle Aldridge to within a breath of his life.
“I’m not corrupt,” he said quietly, just barely keeping his temper in check.
“Of course you aren’t.” She sounded relieved, as if she’d harbored at least a bit of doubt. Which made the next revelation so difficult.
He steeled himself and said, “I wasn’t corrupt, but I wasn’t completely honest, either.”
Her head snapped up, and her eyes were wide. “What do you mean?”
How to explain this so a layman would understand? “Constables sometimes have to do things, no, that’s not quite right. I sometimes had to do things … No, that isn’t right either.”
He turned from her and frowned at the smoldering coals in the fireplace. If he was going to confess his sins, he may as well do it right. He positioned his body toward her, setting one arm on the back of the settee. “I sometimes chose to ignore certain crimes and use lesser criminals in order to snare a larger one.”
She cocked her head to the side, considering his words. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m sure you did what you thought was right.”
His fingers curled around the top of the settee, uncomfortable with her ready acceptance. “I’m not sure it was. I did what I thought I had to, but some of the things I ignored …” When he thought of the people he’d allowed to go free—people like Nicky Blue who recruited children, some of them only seven or eight years old—he despised himself. He took small comfort in having sent Nicky Blue to prison for a time, but it wasn’t enough. It was why reform was so important to him now. More police meant more enforcement. They wouldn’t have to rely on the criminal class to do so much of their jobs for them. And prison reform would help inmates choose a better path when they were released, so they wouldn’t simply return to their illegal and violent ways.
She turned and set her hand on his, and her gentle touch coaxed his fingers to loosen their grip on the settee. “It doesn’t sound like corruption to me. You weren’t furthering your own interests, were you?”
God, she understood. He searched her face, seeking the absolution he could really only give himself. Still, her perception set a fire of longing deep in his heart.
He shook his head. “No. I thought I was doing what was right.”
“Then it was. You were willing to overlook my thievery—something for which I am deeply grateful.” She took a moment to strip her gloves off and drop them on the low table set before the settee. Then she settled further back into the settee, and her warm hand was back caressing his. Her fresh apple scent curled its way around him. “You’re a good man, Daniel Carlyle.”
“Then you don’t believe anything Aldridge told you?” She’d trusted him implicitly, had come here straightaway despite Aldridge’s lies. Daniel felt like a cad for doubting her when Aldridge had tried to fill his head with nonsense about her.
She made an unladylike sound that sounded rather liked a snort. “Of course not.”
He turned his hand over, capturing hers. His energy shifted from tense anxiety and remorse to being enthralled by her presence and sensitivity. “Why not? What have I done to earn your trust?”
She looked at him, her beautiful hazel eyes wide and trusting. “Only protected me, believed in me. For heaven’s sake, I used you to get close to Aldridge so I could steal my possessions back! I should be asking you what I’ve done to earn your trust.”
Just as she’d said, he trusted her because she believed in him. She saw good in him and understood what he’d never dared to share with anyone else. Which made his next admission necessary, albeit unpleasant. “I’m ashamed to say Aldridge also tried to poison me against you. He said you’d been disdained during your Season, that your reputation was marked by your rash tongue—which I have no trouble believing and have begun to rather appreciate—and a somewhat, ah, loose nature.”
She gasped. “Never say so.”
He deserved her outrage. “I didn’t want to believe it. But I’ve known him much longer than I’ve known you, and we were friends.” His ire spiked when he thought of his “friendship” with a criminal. “I should’ve known right away he was lying.”
“He told you this last night, before I saw you. That was why you left like you did.” Her voice sounded hollow as she withdrew her hand. “After the way I kissed you … You believed I was soiled.”
Cad wasn’t a strong enough word to describe him. He’d been an utter ass. “I was a fool.” He rubbed his thumb along her jawline. “You are a spirited, intelligent woman who isn’t afraid to pursue what she wants. You are a singular female. One I am honored to know. I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
She blinked rapidly, but he caught a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “There’s n
o need to beg,” she murmured.
“I think I must. In fact … ” He slid from the settee onto his knees. He took both of her hands in his and stroked his thumbs along the backs. She shivered from his touch, and he longed to see her entire body react when he at last made love to her.
“Miss Renwick, I most humbly beg you to be my wife. I’m perhaps not entirely worthy of your esteem, but I shall endeavor to be so, if you’ll but consent. Can you accept a flawed man with a past so different from your own?”
She let his question hover a moment—did she know how she tortured him? “I think I can.” She sounded so serious that his breath caught with a mixture of dread and anticipation. “On one condition.”
He’d deliver the moon if it meant she’d be his. “Anything.”
“Would you mind closing the door?”
Chapter Ten
IT WAS a brazen request, but he’d said he liked her independence. Or something like that. He’d proposed marriage, and that meant he liked her just the way she was. She needn’t rein in her tongue or tiptoe around her desires. She was free to be the woman she wanted to be.
He blinked at her once. Then his lips curled into a smile, and he got up and closed the door firmly. He stalked to the windows and pulled the drapes—how thoughtful.
When he turned back to the settee, his features had sobered. His gaze had turned intent, the blue-gray irises piercing with their usual fervor. She’d thought she could lose herself in them, and now she wanted to see if she could lose herself in him.
Her pulse was already speeding, but it ticked up another notch as she considered what she was about to do. She wasn’t afraid or concerned, but happy to share this with him—a kind and honest man who exceeded every dream she’d had.
She scooted to the edge of the settee. “What should I do?”
He sat beside her. “Whatever you like.” He trailed a finger along her temple and behind her ear, causing her to shiver in anticipation. “I want to take your hair down, but I don’t think that’s wise. You probably shouldn’t go home looking ravished.”
His words heated her, sending warmth spiraling through her veins. An ache started in her belly and moved lower. “And is that how I’ll look?”
“You could, but I don’t think Mrs. Harwood would approve. We should perhaps be a bit more discreet. I shall endeavor not to muss your hair. That is, if you truly want to do this.” He searched her face. “We can wait until after we’re married.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “No, I don’t want to wait. I want you right now. Right here. Tell me what to do. Show me.”
He slid his hand around to her nape and pulled her close. His nose nudged her cheek just before his lips found hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, not at all what she craved. The fire he’d started inside of her begged to be stoked. She angled her head and slid her hands further back along his cheeks and jawline. His flesh was hot and smooth, and he smelled of clove. She opened her mouth, eager to taste as well as feel him.
He answered her need with his tongue, sweeping into her mouth with precision and heat. Then he suckled her tongue, and the sensation was shockingly wonderful. She gravitated toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest. But there were too many clothes between them. She wanted to feel his bare skin.
She slid her hands down his neck and then began to tug the lapels of his coat open. He knew her intent immediately and shrugged out of the garment. All the while, his kiss was deep and relentless. Desire curled through her and settled in her core.
His fingers brushed her back and then he broke the kiss. But he didn’t move away. He spoke against her lips, nibbling at her mouth between words. “How does,” nibble, “your dress,” nibble, “come off?” And then he kissed her again without waiting for her answer, as if he just couldn’t help himself. A thrill shot through her, and she smiled into the kiss.
She followed his lead and withdrew momentarily. “It fastens,” kiss, “in the front.” She slanted her mouth over his and renewed the kiss with all the passion coiling inside of her. Then she set to work unfastening her bodice. Thankfully, his hands joined hers because she was having great difficulty concentrating on something so mindless as opening a dress.
Daniel was having no such trouble. In a trice, her bodice was gaping and he pulled it from her shoulders, fully exposing her corset. Then his hands returned to her back, and he tugged the laces until the garment loosened. He skimmed his hands up her arms and slid the narrow straps from her shoulders. The feel of the linen brushing over her sensitive flesh elicited a delicious shiver.
His mouth left hers, and he licked a path to the hollow at the base of her throat. Once there, he lavished her with kisses and nipped at her skin. Her head fell back under his ministration, which thrust her breasts forward in a most wanton way. But she didn’t care. She needed more.
His hands slid inside of her corset and cupped the undersides of her breasts. They felt full and heavy, and his touch only increased the sensation. His mouth continued down while he pulled at her chemise, popping her breasts free of the garment. And then his mouth was there. Covering her breast with the same delicious wet heat of his kisses. His fingertips tugged at one nipple while he licked and sucked the other. Sensation shot straight to her core and she pressed her legs together to ease the ache between her thighs.
Desperately, she grasped at his cravat, pulling the knot free. As the fabric loosened, his clove scent rushed over her. She inhaled deeply, loving the smell and knowing she would forever associate it with the way he was making her feel—beautiful, desired, powerful.
Suddenly, he pulled back from her and sat up on the settee. “No, no. This isn’t right. I can’t do this.”
Cold air washed over her bare breasts and doused her arousal like a bucket of water from the English Channel. “I beg your pardon?” She blinked at him, not understanding.
He stood.
Disbelief warred with her rising ire. “You are not leaving me.”
His lips curled into a sinful smile. “No. But you deserve better for your first time.” He leaned over and easily swept her into his arms. “My bedchamber is just through here.”
He shouldered through a door into a small office and then through another door. This room was quite large and was set at the back of the house. A massive fireplace took up half of one wall and a wide four-poster bed took up half of the opposite.
The ease with which he transported her and carefully set her on the bed made her feel incredibly feminine, or maybe it just heightened his masculinity. Either way, it only added to her arousal. She stood, and now it was his turn to look perplexed.
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She kicked her shoes off, shimmied out of her dress, and handed it to him, then followed it with her corset.
The corner of his mouth quirked up and he set the garments on a chair. He was working very hard to keep her from looking ravished, but caution was clearly not her forte. She drew her chemise over her head and tossed it on the floor, leaving her clad in only stockings and garters.
He moved to pick up the chemise, but she clasped his wrist. “Leave it. Show me how this is supposed to be. Make me look ravished. Make me feel ravished.” She waited for his response, breathless and anxious that she’d gone too far with her brazen tongue.
His gaze raked over her nearly nude body. He reached out and trailed his fingers down her ribcage and over her hip. He kneeled then and slid one finger beneath her left garter. With the flick of his thumb, he undid the fastening and it fell from her leg. Then he languidly rolled the stocking over her knee and down her calf, holding her foot up to remove the silk, and then throwing it heedlessly behind him.
She stifled a grin at his carelessness, enormously glad she hadn’t alienated him with her brashness. Then he moved to her other leg, but this time he gripped her thigh with one hand while he removed her garter and stocking. She forgot about everything but the feel of his palm against her flesh and the gentle glide of the
stocking from her leg.
When she was truly naked at last, he looked up at her and she had a moment of panic. What was she doing?
He must’ve seen it, for he paused. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her hip. “You have only to tell me to stop, and I will. In the meantime, I plan to grant your request. But be warned, ravishment is a serious task meant to be enjoyed. You must tell me what you like and what you don’t. What you want and what you don’t.”
All while he talked, his hand splayed over her sex. His thumb lightly caressed her folds. Her knees quivered as sensations she’d never imagined washed over her.
She managed to find the words to voice what she wanted—since that’s what he’d instructed her to do. “I want you naked too.”
“Can you wait a moment?” he asked, his focus entirely upon her sex. “I’m just too intrigued by this right now. And I’m afraid,” he slid his thumb deeper into her flesh, “I simply can’t tear myself away.” He leaned forward and she felt the heat of his breath against her. God, he was looking at her in such a way, his fingers touching her as no one ever had … She could only stare in wonder.
“Spread your legs a bit,” he said, so close to her flesh that she felt the words as much as she heard them. She did as he bade. With greater access, he slid his thumb up and found a spot so delicate, so sensitive, that the slightest touch jerked her hips forward. She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment as pleasure rocketed through her body.
“You are every bit as responsive as I imagined. A woman like you is bound to be passionate. Show me, Jocelyn. Show me how much.”
He worked his thumb over her, teasing that nub until her flesh began to quiver and the desire in her core heated to an unbearable degree. He clasped her hip and lifted her to sit on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed her thighs wide, completely opening her to him now. She could only stare in hopeless abandon as his thumbs met at her core. He stroked her softly but purposely and then opened her. His head ducked forward and then his tongue was on her, licking her flesh in the most intimate kiss.