“Too many innocent people would suffer if we were to have a permanent association, of any sort. You’d regret it, within weeks, days probably, when rumours spread about me and my strange ways. I’ll not cause more harm to you, or your brothers. As soon as we’ve destroyed this syndicate, our lives can return to normal. You need never see me again. It’s for your own good.”
Cayle stepped closer, towering over her and poking his finger in her chest this time. Heavens, what a pair they were.
“How dare you state what’s good for me.”
Becca took a step back, unnerved by the sudden upswing of his anger once again. Over the years, she’d viewed Cayle at his best, and his worst. Happy and sad. Teasing and tender. Even, when he was eighteen, inebriated and casting up his accounts. She’d never seen him in such swelling rages before and it made her balk slightly. His finger jabbed.
“How dare you decide what I want, or, what I need, in my life. As you keep pointing out to me, I’m now the Duke of Sherwyn. I have a duty to my family. To marry, and produce an heir, but that, my sweet, is as far as my duty goes. Other than that, I’ll choose whomsoever I please.”
The finger prodded her chest again. Gently yet insistently. But his voice softened. “And I, the man, and the duke, choose you. You, Lady Rebecca. Do you think I can’t decide for myself, for my family, for you and me, what’s best?”
“But that’s what I’ve always done. It’s always been up to me to work out the best plan for everyone and then make it happen.”
“In the past, that’s what happened.”
“But even now, it’s up to me to keep everyone safe. You said yourself that neither my family, nor the society, could go on without my making these types of decisions. I’m always the one with the clear head. In time, you’ll see that I’m right to walk away from you when this is finished.”
“No, no. This isn’t finished by a long shot, sweetheart. There has to be some consolation in my life for taking on control of Julia and my brothers, for assuming the family titles and topping up our coffers.”
“I know how hard you’re working to succeed. But it’ll never work if you have someone like me in your life.”
“I don’t want someone like you, Becca. I want you.” This time his kiss was tinged with desperation.
“Answer me one thing.” Her eyes widened. “Do you love me, minx? Do I still hold your heart?”
“Stop! It’s unfair to ask me that. Leave, please, just leave.”
Turning away, Becca wished him gone before he glimpsed the fat tears collecting in her eyes. It was crucial that she remain strong. Even if it broke her heart to do so.
As he reached the door, Becca heard Cayle mutter, “I will have you Rebecca Jamison. I will not stop until I find a way.”
She didn’t know whether it made her happy, or if it simply terrified her.
Chapter 22
For Cayle, the journey to the Hetherington’s countryseat was long and testing. A first class compartment for the train journey ensured time and seclusion for the combined Jamison and St. Martin families to plan their next strategy. Staff was sent ahead with the luggage to prepare for their arrival so Cayle had anticipated a few moments alone with Becca before they faced their next dramatic incident. To his dismay, the constant presence of Aunt Agatha and Becca’s sisters allowed him glimpses of Becca’s scowling face, without any opportunity to speak with her.
She was troubled over their relationship; he knew that she was convinced it’d be a disaster. So, he planned on snatching any opportunity to spend time alone with her at this house party. Smugly, he reminded himself that’s what country weekends were about, rendezvousing in bedrooms with paramours. Though, the word paramour grated on him the way mistress did. For Becca, he wanted something more. Not so sordid. Something more permanent. Something to proclaim her as his.
The Jamison family closed ranks after he’d upset Becca and concocted some nefarious plan to keep them apart. Her sisters shot arrows at him with every glance, as if he’d committed a criminal atrocity, instead of asking for Becca’s hand in marriage. It was obvious his hit-and-miss attempts had been discussed and they weren’t impressed. At their brief luncheon stop, Aunt Agatha hustled her nieces inside the station’s dining room without so much as a glance in his direction. Lottie hissed at him, the first angry words he’d ever heard her speak. “You ham-fisted idiot. You made my sister cry.”
Of course, Laura refused to mince words either. “You’ve only three days to make this right with Becca. Don’t make a muddle of it again. If you’re going to endanger both your reputations by seducing her, at least do it properly.”
The women flounced past him with their collective noses in the air, leaving him gaping after them. Beside him, three men doubled over with laughter. His brothers stood with their cousin, Richard, enjoying his discomfiture immensely.
He nodded at his cousin. “Winchester. Glad I could be of entertainment to you.”
Richard chuckled with absolute delight. “Having recently renewed my own acquaintance with the middle Jamison sister, possibly to the permanent detriment of my manhood, I’m relieved to discover it’s not just my charms they find lacking.” As the two other St. Martin men agreed in a collective silence, the earl said, “Although, I feel thankful that they’ve yet to give me such a group set down as they just delivered to you.”
Brian took pity on Cayle and led him to the far end of the room where it was blessedly Jamison free. “You need some advice on bedding a woman, big brother. Particularly one who isn’t ashamed to use her mind, considering that all the ones you’ve been with in the past had breast sizes bigger than their brains.”
Cayle bristled with indignation, despite knowing that his family was taunting him.
“I can handle a seduction quite well by myself. In bed, Becca lets me take charge.”
When the others roared laughter at his expense again, he muttered, “Sometimes, anyway.”
The serving girl who brought drinks bent low, and directly in front of Cayle’s face, exposing enough pink flesh to excite any red-blooded male. Winchester’s eyebrows rose when Cayle showed no reaction at all to her enticing display.
“Good, God! You’re in a bad way. But cousin, there’s nothing wrong with letting Becca take control in some aspects of your life. An energetic romp with a willing woman cures many ills.”
“I’ll thank you to speak with a lot more respect of my future wife.”
“Future wife? Are you really going to risk asking her to marry you?”
A gleeful Anthony chimed in, “He already has. Several times. She keeps turning him down.”
Winchester smirked. “I, myself, have been on the receiving end of countless proposals in my time.”
Brian added, “Yes, but not proposals of marriage, I’d wager.”
“Nonetheless, avoiding marriage is my forte. So I can advise you, in reverse, of how to handle your possibly, maybe, future wife.”
“Becca is different,” Cayle protested. “She doesn’t respond well to handling. She’s more intelligent than any other woman. More beautiful, more spirited, more — ”
Brian interrupted with a long groan that was echoed by the other two men. “We get the idea. No need to expand on any more of her wonders.”
Winchester looked amazed as he turned to his cousins. “He’s completely besotted.”
They nodded agreement and eyed Cayle as if gauging whether his disease would be catching.
“Besides my wedding plans — ”
“What wedding?” Tony asked. “The woman you wish to marry has refused you, how many times is it now?”
Cayle felt blessed when Winchester saved him from further embarrassment by directing their attention back to more pressing matters.
“We’re going to be occupied enough for the next three days trying to catch out the syndicate leader. Cayle’s wedding crisis will have to wait. At least until we’re sure his bride to be isn’t likely to be murdered in her sleep.”
“God almighty!” Cayle yelled.
“Good grief, Winchester,” Tony said. “Did you need to add the murdered bit? Cayle’s turned as white as a ghost.”
Winchester gave Cayle a brief look. “He must be the one to guard Becca. We’ve other tasks to take care of. I’ve already had word from the advance staff. Five men we’ve narrowed it down to will be sleeping in chambers in the guest wing at Hetherington’s.”
“But the leader amongst them has too much animal cunning to reveal his face,” Tony remarked.
“If we’re to draw him into the open and reveal his identity before the aristocracy present, we need a lure.”
“Something to use as bait.”
“I was thinking more,” Winchester looked at Cayle, “of, someone. A lady, one the syndicate wants rather desperately.”
Cayle stared at his cousin, appalled at who he was suggesting. Oh, God, no. He couldn’t be suggesting they dangle Becca like a worm on a hook under the leader’s nose. Few knew it, but he and Winchester’s names had crossed paths on British Government correspondence over the years, even though they hadn’t re-met in person until recently.
Although Winchester cultivated the impression of a well-to-do lord with little on his mind, his mind resembled a steel trap, making him an ideal government envoy. Snippets of information about foreign alliances that Cayle had recognised as written in his cousin’s hand had been forwarded to him in Europe by the foreign office so he knew he could trust his cousin’s logic. But, it still terrified him.
The guard blew his whistle and shunted them back to the carriage and still Cayle had no opportunity to attract Becca’s attention. Noticing the savage expressions on the women’s faces as they conferred in a corner, terror struck him. Tony leaned over to say close to his ear, “They’re probably plotting ways to string ignorant, arrogant and unbending men up by their fingernails.”
Cayle shuddered at the truth in his brother’s words and slumped back to endure the rest of a long miserable day. The tension in the train compartment became so thick, he was sure it could be cut with a knife and it was certainly daggers being thrown his way by every Jamison on board. It was a blessed relief to reach Hetherington House. Lord and Lady Hetherington rushed down the steps to greet their guests in a warm fashion, appointing maids to show the ladies to their rooms to refresh themselves. Winchester slipped away to quiz the staff about the gentlemen in residence and which rooms they’d been allotted.
• • •
Slipping a gold coin into a maid’s hand, Cayle uncovered the direction of Becca’s room. With great impatience, he waited until the ladies retired to rest before dressing for dinner then slipped into her room. She lay on her back, her eyes closed. Making no sound, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her.
This bluestocking was so beautiful that his heart skipped a beat. He’d told others his proposals to Becca were for her protection. It was only partly true. When he saw her, reposed, relaxed, her expression unguarded, he ached. Wanted her hand in marriage for far, far more than that. Yearned to possess her, body and soul. Longed to have her as his duchess standing beside him for a hundred years.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, rimming his tongue around the shell of her ear. “Open your eyes, my love.”
Keeping her eyes shut, she said in a drowsy voice, “I told you not to call me that.”
“Then stop pretending you’re asleep and listen. I can’t linger in your bedchamber for long. I dare not be discovered.”
“Ah, but if you’re discovered here, surely it would only aid your cause. We’d be forced to marry. Against my will.”
“Touché. Being discovered together would certainly force you into making the correct decision.”
“By correct, I assume you mean the decision that best suits your purpose, no matter what it costs me.”
“I want you, Becca. Don’t doubt that for a minute. I’ll also take great care not to damage your reputation.”
He bent to kiss her — only a light brush of his lips upon hers — until she moaned.
And wriggled. And reached up to curl her arms around his neck. Entwined her fingers in his hair. Touched her tongue to the racing pulse in his throat. And as quickly as a breath, he was undone. She aroused him so easily. He couldn’t hover this near to her without his smouldering desire catching alight. Their kiss deepened, and deepened. Everything outside her room faded away in their mad rush to be closer still, skin to bare skin. Her dress hit the floor with a soft swish to join his already discarded coat and waistcoat. Within minutes, the air was thick with the scent of dual arousals.
Becca clung to him with remembered passion and he couldn’t resist. Even though he’d wanted their next time together to be a leisurely joining, slow and sensuous as befitted a novice, neither of them could wait. No matter how much they disagreed, in this arena they were always in agreement. He slid down her body, planting tiny kisses over all her bumps and curves as he went. When his mouth tickled the clutch of soft curls between her thighs, she squealed and jumped, clenching her thighs against the invasion. He chuckled and lifted his head.
“Trust me, my love. If you liked what we did the first time we made love, and the second, and especially the third, then you’re going to love this.” Pushing apart her legs, he bent again to his task and applied his tongue to both soothe and excite her. He licked roughly up through her crease and swirled the tip around her swollen bud until, in very little time, she writhed and squirmed. He chuckled again. “I can’t decide if you’re trying to get closer or escape me.”
“It feels … strange.”
“Strange in a good way, or bad?”
“Good. Oh, so, so good. But should we be doing it this way? What about you?”
“Relax, little one, let me do this for you first. My turn will come.”
He took her up little by little, controlling her escalating pleasure like a master with an apt pupil. Each time he felt her tremble beneath his tongue, he pulled back to muzzle the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. When she climbed down from that new level of sensation he ratcheted up the tension by plunging two fingers into her tight passage. He knew from before just where to touch her, just where to tease to give her maximum gratification. Then without warning, the pleasure became too much for her body to suppress and she lurched and screamed.
Impelled her womanly crevice even further into his marauding mouth. Dragged every nuance of ecstasy from her extended climax. As her warm liquid flowed and ebbed, he sucked in the flavour of her by licking his lips to catch every drop of syrupy juice dribbling down her reddened thighs. The essence of her lingered in his mouth as he rose up to greet her begging mouth and he gave a long deep growl of bliss. His open mouthed kiss was given so that she could also taste herself in his depths, the same way he’d sampled hers. So she’d know that what they shared was deeper, more intense than a superficial friendship. Or even the light passion of an affair. It was vital to make Becca understand the pinnacle they could reach if they trusted each other enough to combine their goals for the future. He knew time was against them.
“Why are you willing to lie back and let me assume control here, yet during the day you still fight me, every step of the way?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because here we’re in our own world. Here, my gorgeous lover, we have the same goals, the same providence. Nothing else exists. There’re no conflicts, no differences.”
“Whatever you want from me, love, whatever you need, take it. Tell me your deepest wish for us?”
“To give each other peace. To surrender to our deepest longings. To have each other.”
“For me, I crave long, passion-filled days and nights in the future with you in my bed, when you yield to me as willingly as you surrender to me now. I want more than anything to be your strength, as you’re mine.”
“Kiss me, Cayle. Enclose me in your arms. Love me.
Make me feel safe, at least for now.” Too choked up to reply, unable to even vocalise what he felt
, Cayle demonstrated with deeds what he couldn’t express in mere words. He closed one hand around his swollen cock and opened her still soaking sex with the fingers of his other. Slowly, with great care, he claimed her. Took her to the heights. Showed her what peaks they could reach. An hour later, they lay wrapped around each other in a tangle of bedclothes. A noise sounded in the passageway, and they jumped apart.
Becca gave a breathless gasp. “Did you lock the door?”
“Damnation! I forgot, when I caught sight of you. Spread like a delicious banquet on the bed. You’re too bloody distracting.” She giggled.
Cayle grabbed the coverlet with one hand and reached over to snatch up his discarded clothing with the other, tossing his garments under the bed. With quick thinking, Becca jerked the sheet higher over his head just as the doorknob rattled. The door was flung wide and Laura rushed in. She jumped on the end of the bed, making its two occupants bounce and nearly causing Cayle to be tipped to the floor.
“Good afternoon, Cayle.” Laura addressed the large hump lying in concealment next to her sister. “Do I take your presence in my sister’s bed to mean that you’ve mended your differences and are once again friends?”
As Cayle struggled into a sitting position, he took care to keep the sheet pulled high over their bare shoulders. A quick glance revealed Becca’s swollen lips and tell-tale heightened colour. He sighed, resigned.
“Yes, Laura. Your sister and I are … friends. More than friends. Before this month is out, I’m going to make her my wife.”
“How dare you!” Becca gave him a punch on the shoulder. “I haven’t agreed to marry you. I haven’t agreed to anything.”
Cayle scowled at her, his expression set. “My first priority, Rebecca Jamison, is to ensure that you’re kept safe over the next few days.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “But then, my stubborn little amour, we’ll make appropriate plans for the future. Our future. Is that clear?”
Laura glanced between the two of them and snorted. Then laughed. “I’m glad you’re in such total agreement, as usual, because tonight you need to present a united front. You are betrothed, after all.”
Suzi Love Page 28