Confessions at Midnight

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  She blinked several times, then reality returned with a thump. She glanced down the length of her body, taking in the gown bunched up around her waist, the pale skin of her abdomen, the light brown curls at the juncture of her widely spread thighs. His hips nestled tightly against her.

  Surely she should be appalled at her wanton behavior, at the liberties she'd allowed him. Liberties her husband had never taken. Or even attempted. Yet instead of appalled, she felt more alive than she had in years. As if she'd emerged from a dark, lonely cave into a sunshine-filled meadow bursting with color and life.

  The proper, sedate lady she'd been her entire adult life insisted she tell him this interlude was a mistake. One that could not be repeated. But rather than mistake, the only word she wanted to say was…

  Again.

  She could lie to herself, but the irrefutable truth was that she wanted more of the passion they'd just shared. Her mind acknowledged her guilt and tried to list all the reasons she shouldn't allow this to go any further, but she shoved all that aside and listened to her reawakened body, which refused to be silenced. She was attracted to this man. Wanted him-in a purely physical sense. So long as her heart remained uninvolved and they were discreet, there was no reason to deny herself this pleasure. He'd said he didn't want her heart, and had no intention of offering his own. They would share their bodies and nothing more. Just as the Anonymous Lady had done in Memoirs.

  "The dogs are barking," he said quietly, brushing his fingers over her cheek. "Which means Samuel has returned."

  A fissure of panic rushed through her and she struggled to sit up, but he shook his head and gently pressed her back down. "We have a few moments. Barkley will see to things, and neither he nor Samuel will come in here."

  "How do you know?"

  "No one is allowed access to this room except me and Walter, my groundskeeper." The pad of his thumb brushed over her bottom lip and he frowned, as if puzzled. "I've never brought anyone here before."

  He sounded surprised to have admitted that last bit, and certainly she was surprised to hear it. "Why not? It's such a beautiful room."

  "It's private. My… sanctuary. I told you I don't like to share." His gaze roamed her face and he looked… troubled? "Except, it seems, with you."

  His expression cleared and he leaned forward to nuzzle the sensitive skin behind her ear with his warm lips.

  "My God… you are so beautiful," he whispered, his words ending on a groan. His teeth lightly grazed her earlobe, shooting a barrage of tingles down her neck. "My extremely lovely, very dear, greatly talented, highly amusing, extraordinarily intelligent, possessor of the most kissable lips I've ever seen as well as an excellent memory, and who tastes like flowers… everywhere, Lady Wingate." He lifted his head and a whiff of amusement entered his eyes. "Do you think we might perhaps be on a first name basis now?"

  A heated blush suffused her entire body. "I suppose… Daniel."

  His smile flashed. "Thank you… Carolyn."

  The way he said her name, softly, slowly, as if savoring its taste upon his tongue, shivered a dark thrill of delight through her.

  With obvious reluctance, he slid his hand from beneath her bottom then reached for her drawers. The ease with which he helped her don her discarded clothing proved he was as adept at dressing a woman as he was at undressing one. And he'd certainly proven he knew what to do once he had her disrobed. She wasn't entirely certain her liquefied knees would ever fully recover.

  After he'd slipped her shoes back on her feet, he rose and extended his hand to help her rise. Her gaze riveted on the front of his breeches, which were directly on her eye level. The snug material clearly outlined his thick erection.

  Perhaps it was the privacy afforded by this cozy, flower-scented room, illuminated only by silvery skeins of moonlight, that made her daring… as daring as she'd felt while wearing Galatea's mask. Or perhaps it was the way he'd made her feel… so lush and womanly and shockingly free. But whatever the reason, as she allowed him to help her arise, she boldly dragged her free hand up his muscled thigh and cupped his arousal. He sucked in a quick breath and his eyes seemed to glaze over.

  "You pleasured me, yet asked for-and received-nothing in return," she murmured, experiencing a deep surge of feminine satisfaction when he rolled his hips, seeking more of her touch.

  "I hardly received nothing. Indeed the pleasure was all mine."

  She cocked a brow and shot a significant look downward. "This…" She lightly stroked him through his breeches. "… indicates otherwise."

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, trapping her hand between them. "If you're suggesting you're in my debt-"

  "That's precisely what I'm suggesting."

  His eyes seemed to breathe smoke. "I believe that makes me the luckiest man in England. Consider me at your disposal."

  "A very intriguing offer."

  "I'm delighted you think so, especially as you didn't when I first offered."

  "I was always intrigued. Just not willing."

  "But now you are."

  "Obviously."

  He rubbed himself against her hand. "I'm extremely happy to hear it."

  Her lips twitched. "Obviously."

  Clasping her wrist, he dragged her hand up and pressed a fervent kiss against her palm. "Unfortunately, now is-"

  "Not an ideal time."

  "No. I want to make certain all went well with Samuel's errand and that Cook and my maid are seeing to Katie. Then I'll escort you and Gertrude home." His gaze searched her face. "And as much as I want to continue this right here, right now, I want you to have some time to think. To settle things in your mind. I don't want you to have doubts."

  "You're not afraid that after thinking things over I'll change my mind?"

  His fingers tightened over hers. "'Afraid' is a lukewarm word for the terror I feel at the possibility. Carolyn… the desire between us is the most potent I've ever experienced. I know we would be extraordinary together. But only if it isn't tarnished with regrets."

  "I don't regret what we've shared this evening."

  "Excellent. I just want to make sure you feel the same way in the morning." He brushed his mouth over hers then continued along the curve of her jaw. "And as hope springs eternal that you will, are you free tomorrow, around noon?"

  With his body pressed to hers and his nipping kisses disrupting her thoughts, it was impossible to recall if she had any plans, but if she did, whatever they might be, she intended to reschedule them. "I am."

  "Excellent. I'll plan a surprise."

  "What if I don't like surprises?"

  "You'll like this one. I promise."

  A quiver of anticipation rippled through her. After one last lingering kiss, he stepped back. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he led her through the French doors then into the corridor and back to the foyer, where they encountered a pacing Samuel. He halted when he saw them.

  "Cook's puttin' a broth together," he reported without preamble, "and Mary's in with Katie and Gertrude."

  "How is Katie faring?" Daniel asked.

  "She's sleepin'. Gertrude said Katie was sore and tired, but otherwise fine. If Lady Wingate don't mind, Gertrude offered to stay until Katie wakes up, so she ain't frightened to see a stranger." He looked at Carolyn. "Real thoughtful, your Gertrude is, milady."

  "Is that all right with you?" Daniel asked her.

  "Of course."

  "Samuel will escort her home after Katie awakens." He turned to Samuel. "I'll escort Lady Wingate home now. She has a busy day ahead of her tomorrow and needs her rest."

  A blush scorched Carolyn's cheeks at his seemingly innocent words. She quickly said good-bye to Samuel, who handed Carolyn her cashmere shawl and thanked her for helping Katie.

  "It was my pleasure to assist you, Samuel," she said with a smile. "And Katie's good fortune that you found her."

  She and Daniel left the house. The instant the door closed behind them, he glanced around. After c
learly satisfying himself that no one lurked about, he clasped her hand and tucked it beneath his arm. She noted he matched his steps to her shorter stride, for which she was grateful, as she was in no rush to leave his company and the walk to her town house would require less than two minutes.

  She was considering asking him into her home but saw a lamp burning in the foyer window, which meant Nelson was waiting up for her. Discretion would hardly be served by bringing her lover home at three a.m.

  Her lover.

  The words reverberated through her mind. Any guilt she might have felt was buried beneath the avalanche of anticipation that trembled through her.

  "Cold?" he asked.

  She looked up at him and shook her head. "No. In fact, quite the opposite."

  A slow smile curved his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, a loud bang sounded from across the street at Hyde Park. At the same instant something whizzed past her, mere inches from her nose, then the stone urn on her porch exploded.

  Before she could even draw a breath, Daniel yanked her down and shielded her with his body.

  "Wh-What was that?" she asked.

  "That," Daniel said in a tight, grim voice, "was a pistol shot."

  Chapter Twelve

  The uncomfortable jouncing normally suffered while riding in a carriage turned into the most delicious bouncing when my lover's erection was buried deep inside me.

  Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady

  "Are you hurt?" Daniel asked, his gaze anxiously searching Carolyn's shocked face.

  She shook her head, and his profound relief nearly rendered him light-headed.

  "Are you?" she asked.

  "I'm fine." Actually, he was nowhere near fine. That shot had barely missed her. Another few inches and-

  He cut off the horrific thought. "We need to get inside. Quickly."

  He grabbed her hand, and shielding her with his body, hurried her toward her front door. They'd nearly reached it when oak panel flew open, revealing a wide-eyed butler.

  "What on earth-"

  The butler's words were cut off as they hurried into the foyer and Daniel quickly closed and locked the door. Then he turned to Carolyn and grasped her shoulders.

  "You're certain you're all right?" he asked, unable to shake off the gut-twisting image of that shot actually hitting her.

  "I'm fine. Shaken and stunned, but unharmed."

  She quickly introduced her butler, who asked, "What happened?"

  "A shot was fired, from the park," Daniel said tersely. "It nearly hit Lady Wingate."

  Nelson's face turned the color of chalk. "Dear God." He looked Carolyn over, as if to satisfy himself that she truly wasn't injured. Then anger flashed in his dark eyes. "First Lady Crawford's murder and now this. Terrible what the world's come to, brigands hurting innocent people, and ladies no less! 'Tis shocking."

  "Yes," Daniel agreed. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Except he suddenly didn't think it was the work of just any brigand. "The authorities must be summoned," he said to Nelson. "Mr. Rayburn, the magistrate, attended the Gatesbourne soiree this evening. You might check for him there first."

  "Yes, my lord. I'll do so at once," Nelson said, then looked at Carolyn and hesitated.

  "I'll remain here with Lady Wingate until you return," Daniel assured him. "I'll allow no harm to come to her. And so no harm comes to you, call at my town house and instruct my footman Samuel to accompany you."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Are you armed, Nelson?"

  The butler leaned down and patted the side of his boot. "Always carry a knife, my lord."

  After Nelson left, Daniel locked the door then braced his hands against the oak panel and took several seconds to pull in a calming breath, which unfortunately did nothing to calm him. Bloody hell, she'd almost been killed. And it was entirely his fault.

  He felt her hand upon his back and turned around. The mere sight of her, standing before him, her beautiful eyes clouded with concern, damn near brought him to his knees. A shudder rippled through him as he relived that shot ringing out, followed by the unthinkable, horrible aftermath of what had nearly occurred.

  She reached up and rested her palm against cheek. "You're so pale, Daniel. Are you certain you weren't injured?"

  The sound of his name on her lips, the touch of her hand against his skin, the worry in her eyes, all threatened to undo him.

  "I'm not injured." He turned his face to press a kiss against her palm. "But I must talk to you about what happened."

  "All right. Let's go to the drawing room." Taking his hand, she led him down the corridor. Once inside the room, they moved toward the hearth, where a low-burning fire crackled in the grate. She sat on the settee, but he felt too restless to join her. Instead he paced the length of the room, every muscle tense, his mind whirling.

  As he passed her, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Daniel, what's wrong?"

  He looked down at her and the lump of fear and fury that had lodged in his throat when that shot rang out threatened to choke him. "What's wrong," he said in as calm a tone as he could manage, "is that you were nearly killed."

  "As were you." She offered him a shaky smile. "Luckily the only casualty was my urn. Surely it was an accident. A shot gone astray. Fired by some intoxicated reveler."

  He shook his head. "I don't believe it was an accident, Carolyn. I'm certain that shot was meant for me. And it nearly killed you."

  She frowned. "What do you mean? If someone had meant to rob you, they'd hardly shoot at you from across the street."

  "The person wasn't trying to rob me. I'm quite certain he meant to kill me."

  Fear and horror widened her eyes. "Who would do such a thing? And why?"

  Unable to stand still, he slipped his hand from hers and continued to pace while telling her about his aborted investment with Lord Tolliver. "He threatened me at the masquerade ball, but I shrugged off his words as the ramblings of a drunkard." He halted in front of her and fresh anger raced through him. "Based on tonight's shooting, however, Tolliver's threats weren't empty. And you were nearly the victim of his vendetta against me." Bloody hell, if Tolliver had harmed so much as a hair on her head, he would have hunted the man down and killed him without a moment's remorse. As it was, it required a great effort not do so and to instead allow the authorities to go after the bastard.

  Daniel sat beside Carolyn on the settee and clasped her hands, entwining their fingers. He wasn't a spiritual man, hadn't uttered in prayer since the age of eight when he'd painfully learned that no higher being listened to his invocations, yet he couldn't stop the mantra reverberating through his mind: Thank you for sparing her. Thank you for not taking her away.

  His gaze devoured her and he had to swallow to locate his voice. "I'm sorry, Carolyn. Sorry that something so ugly has touched you. Sorry that it's my fault. That I underestimated Tolliver. I had no idea he'd be so reckless, so bold. It's a mistake I assure you I won't make again. And you have my word I won't allow any harm to come to you."

  "Daniel…" She slipped one hand from his then reached up to brush back his hair where it had fallen over his forehead. How was it possible that such a simple, innocent gesture from her shuddered more pleasure through him than the most erotic caress from any other woman ever had?

  "You are not responsible for the actions of other people," she said softly. "Only for your own. Whatever Lord Tolliver chooses to do is in no way your fault." She trailed her fingertips slowly down his cheek, then along his jaw. "Please don't blame yourself."

  He captured her hand and pressed it against his chest, right over the spot where his heart thudded hard and fast. Her words… bloody hell, weren't they a lovely fairy tale? He knew all too well the hell his actions were capable of causing. The images he always battled away crowded his mind and he forcibly shoved them aside. One death already weighed heavily on his conscience. He couldn't bear another one.

  "I would never forgive myself if any harm came to yo
u." The words felt ripped from his throat. They sounded raw. Edgy. Not a big surprise, he supposed, as that's precisely how he felt. Uncharacteristically so. But there was no denying that the mere thought of Carolyn being hurt, especially because of him, pushed him toward the very brink of reason.

  "As you can see, I am perfectly fine," she said. "And to my very great relief, so are you-although I must say, you look as if you could use a brandy. Unfortunately I don't have any."

  He forced a half smile at her obvious attempt to lighten his mood, but his emotions remained shrouded in a swirl of darkness. "I don't want a drink."

  No, what he wanted was to gather her close, bury his face in that warm, fragrant spot where her neck and shoulder met and simply breathe her in. For hours. Days. Until the image of that shot whizzing by her face was erased.

  Splaying her fingers against his chest, she said, "I'm frightened for you. You must promise me that you'll be very careful and take extremely good care of yourself." She glanced down at her hand and her bottom lip trembled. Then she looked into his eyes and he felt as if he were drowning. "I can't have any harm coming to my…"

  "Friend?" he supplied when she hesitated.

  "Yes. My friend. And… lover."

  He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, savoring her words. Then he lifted her hand and pressed a fervent kiss against her palm. "And you must promise me the same, my most treasured friend. And lover."

  "I promise."

  No longer able to resist the craving gnawing at him, he gathered her into his arms. He meant to give her nothing more than a brief kiss, but the instant his lips covered hers, all the fear and worry spiraling inside him seemed to detonate. His mouth claimed hers in a hard, deep kiss that felt desperate. Out of control. And utterly lacking in finesse. His hands, usually so steady, shook as they clasped her to him, unable to let go. Or hold her close enough.

  The fact that he'd nearly lost her kept echoing through his mind, fueling an urgent demand to hold her closer, kiss her more deeply. Something wild raged through him, something he couldn't name, as he'd never felt it before. Something that writhed beneath his skin and filled his very bones with the need to hold her. Protect her.