“He’s suspected of being behind the plot.”
“He sought to ruin my father!” She stared him down. “And that’s how he set out to do it.”
“How could he slip poison into your father’s medications without either your or your father’s help?”
“I don’t know! But any fool can see I’m telling the truth. If I were part of a conspiracy, why would I have remained in England after it was all over?”
“To avenge your father. You’ve already admitted that much. Perhaps you thought my uncle—”
“Your uncle.” She shot him a contemptuous glance. “You seem far more concerned with my feelings about your uncle than with my supposed involvement in a heinous crime. Why is that? What is it about your uncle that would make you turn against me solely because I might have some tie to him?”
When his face darkened, she went on, no longer caring if she angered him. “Yes, he stole your birthright. But you regained it, didn’t you? Why has he so obsessed you that you would see me punished for his crimes?”
Eyes blazing, he approached her. “I don’t want to see you punished. But for him I want justice.”
She clasped his doublet with both hands. “Why? Why is it so important to you?”
He glared at her, his implacable expression making her despair. “He killed my parents.”
She gazed up at him in numb shock. “I thought the soldiers—”
“Yes, it was Cromwell’s men who actually did the dirty deed.” His voice hardened. “But they were sent there by my uncle.”
Oh, Lord, if that was at the heart of his vengeance, then how would she ever reach him? “You know this for certain?”
He pushed her hands from him and whirled away. “I can’t prove it, if that’s what you mean. But only he knew they traveled in disguise. Only he knew the route they took and when they departed. He didn’t do the deed with his own hands, but he ordered it done. More and more I’m certain of it.”
Oh, her poor dear love. No wonder he was so bitter. No wonder he didn’t know what to do with her. If the root of his pain lay in this terrible thing, if he believed she and his uncle had conspired together, then how could he have any pity for her?
Except that she’d had nothing to do with his uncle’s machinations. Somehow she had to make him realize it. Otherwise, she’d be lost, for without his belief in her, she saw no reason to go on.
Hang him, she wouldn’t let him do this to them! He might not trust her, but some part of him recognized her for what she was, the part of him that wasn’t obsessed with his vengeance. She must appeal to that part if she was to save her soul. And his.
“Now you see why I can leave no stone unturned in bringing him to justice.” He faced her, his eyes haunted. “I can’t let him continue to live unscathed and commit further crimes with impunity. He must be punished.”
“And he shall. I know you’ll find a way to prove his guilt. But you can’t prove it using me, for I know nothing. If I could tell you anything that would lead to his arrest, I would. Can’t you at least believe that?”
He closed his eyes, his expression a twisted mask of uncertainty. “I don’t know, Mina,” he ground out. “You’ve so bewitched me I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.”
She could see the intensity of his struggle. Yet she had to weight the balance on her side if she was to gain his trust. And his love. More than anything she’d ever desired, she wanted his love. The fates that had decreed him to be the Earl of Falkham were not going to deprive her of that.
She stepped close enough to lay her hand on his arm. When his eyes flew open, his gaze almost feverish, she took a carving knife from the table. As his gaze followed her every movement, she pressed the knife’s point to his neck.
“If I’m truly the villainess you claim, there’s nothing to stop me from driving this blade into your throat. And why wouldn’t I? You’re taking me to be hanged anyway. What’s one more death?”
He merely stared at her without a hint of fear.
“You see, you don’t believe me. If you thought yourself in danger, you’d at least attempt to wrest the knife from me. But you don’t because you trust me not to harm you.” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “You just don’t know you do.”
Abruptly she turned the knife so it pressed against her own neck where the pulse beat, and before he could move, she pricked the skin enough to draw blood.
With a harsh curse, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it just enough to force her to release the knife, which fell in a clatter on the floor. Then he clutched her to him so tightly that she had to fight for breath.
“You can’t even bear to see me hurt myself,” she whispered against his doublet. “How will you bear to see strangers hang me?”
“No one will hang you,” he declared in a voice thick with emotion. “I won’t allow it.”
She fought back tears. “If you give me to the King’s Guard, you may not have a choice.”
“That’s enough!” Clasping her head in his hands, he forced it up until their eyes met. “There will be no prison. There will be no hanging. You’ve proved well enough that I can’t bear to have them take you.”
Her heart beat triple time as she searched his face. Had she won the fight or just delayed the battle? “What about your vows to the king, to your country?”
“False vows, all, if they make me act against my character.” He gazed at her, his expression anguished. “I can’t watch you suffer. I hope to God that you’re as innocent as you say. But if you’re not… my pride will simply have to endure a bruising, for I can’t betray you, even if I’m a fool for not doing so.”
Relief flooded her. But she still worried. He was a man of honor—he wouldn’t forsake his duties easily, and she didn’t know if she had the right to ask him to do so. “I wouldn’t have you be a fool, my lord.” She covered his hands where they still framed her face. “If you still don’t believe me, I’d have you act however you feel is wise.”
“Enough,” he choked out. “I tire of this talk of what I will or won’t do. And wisdom? I lost all wisdom the day I set eyes on your cloaked form. I should have ordered you gone from Lydgate then.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, her throat thick with suppressed longing.
His eyes darkened with an emotion she’d not thought to see again. Desire. Then his gaze dropped to her lips. He slid his thumb over her lips, slowly, tenderly. “For the same reason I can’t let you go now.”
Then his mouth was on hers, firm and warm and searching. She gave herself up to his kiss, relieved he could still feel desire for her, if nothing else.
And oh, what desire did he feel. He clasped her to him as if fearing she’d disappear. As his mouth ravaged hers, his hands roamed her body freely. Nor did she stop their wandering. It was enough for her that despite all he feared, he wanted her.
She pressed her body against his, her heart filled with so much love that she had to show it. He’d taught her how, and now she took what she’d been taught, mastered it, and gave it back to him threefold. She clasped him about the waist, opened her mouth to the onslaught of his demanding kisses, and thrust her hips against his. They stood entwined that way, kissing and caressing each other, for several intense moments.
Then he groaned deep within his throat and tore his lips from hers. “Damn you, Mina,” he murmured, his eyes bright with the force of his hunger. “I thought I’d numbed my heart years ago in France. But you’d awaken a heart beneath the breast of Death himself.”
“You awakened mine.” She stroked his cheek. “ ’Tis only fair I should stir yours.”
Her words made him flinch, and he closed his eyes as if to shut her out.
“You won’t thrust me from your mind as easily as that,” she vowed, then reached behind her to clasp one of his hands. She pressed it to her breast so he could feel her heart racing, as once before he’d had her feel his.
His eyes flew open and he stared at her, raw passion lending an alm
ost holy glow to his face. “I want you past all reason,” he rasped. “I don’t know who you really are, but I want you all the same.”
Her fingers tightened painfully on his hand. “You do know who I am. I’m Mina, the gypsy girl who saved your life. And I’m also Miss Marianne Winchilsea, who wouldn’t tell you the truth for fear of losing your affection. Both of us are the same woman. Both of us want you, too.”
And to show him she meant it, she flattened her body against his, her arms encircling his waist, her cheek pressed against his chest. His heart beat wildly, giving her some hope that he cared for her beyond just desiring her body.
“Ah, Mina, you’re tearing me in two,” he murmured, burying his fingers in her hair. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, then released her and strode to the door.
Opening it, he fixed her with an impassioned gaze. “Now’s your chance. You can leave if you wish. I won’t stop you.”
She gaped at him. Did he think she’d offered herself to him in an attempt to have him free her? She gave a shaky little laugh. “Where would I go? All the soldiers in England would hunt for me if I left.”
“You don’t understand. I won’t keep you here against your will any longer. You can walk out this inn and disappear. You’ll be safe forever from the soldiers, for none of them knows yet that you live.”
After what he’d just said, how could he be casting her aside? “Do you really want me to leave? I-I thought you cared for me.”
“Damn it, Mina! I don’t know what might come of this trip to London.” His voice turned bitter. “You could be seen and recognized by someone. Tearle could try to rid himself of you.” His eyes turned to shards of ice. “Or I could discover things about you that would—Never mind. You’re better off away from me, I tell you. At least you’d be alive! I can give you money and whatever else you—”
“I’m not leaving!” She walked over to wrench the door from his grip and slam it shut. “I’m staying with you to the bitter end, Garett, even if it means I’m damned forever.”
Either he found a way to trust her, or he cast her aside. But his decision had to be based on what he wanted and not what he thought best for her.
For a moment, she thought he would argue. Instead he lost the haunted look he’d worn all evening. “Then we’ll be damned together,” he growled, pulling her roughly up against his hard body. “For I’ll never let you go now. Never.”
Giving her no chance to answer, he captured her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. She didn’t resist; she wanted him so much that she could scarcely contain her yearning.
His breath mingled with hers, and it was as if he gave life to her. Every inch of her skin trembled with anticipation—her blood sang at his touch. A sweet tension built in her, endowing her with strength while it filled her with such urgency that she was soon tearing at the buttons of his doublet.
He felt the urgency, too, she knew. His caresses were less than gentle, and she reveled in the roughness. His hands cupped her bottom, pressing her hard against the growing thickness in his breeches. She gasped at the sudden intimacy, and he buried his face in her neck with a groan.
“You’re so soft,” he said huskily against her ear. “Sometimes I forget how soft. I don’t mean to hurt you, sweetling.”
She drew his body back against hers. “You haven’t hurt me.” Not physically. And she would learn to live with the other kind of pain. But for now, she’d have him in body at least.
Stretching up to kiss his neck, she felt his muscles tighten beneath her lips. Timidly she slid the tip of her tongue into his ear. At that delicate caress, his control broke. With a growl, he lifted her in his arms and strode toward the bed.
Then all was a flurry of leather, linen, and lace as he removed her boots and every stitch of her clothing, his gaze growing bolder with each swath of skin he revealed.
Although he’d seen her naked now several times, she still felt embarrassed to have her body so blatantly observed. But when she snatched up a sheet to cover herself, he murmured, “Don’t,” and brushed it away. So she knelt on the bed in silence. His eyes locked with hers as he removed his own clothing. With an almost painful longing, she watched him unveil himself. She ought to look away, but she didn’t want to miss seeing every part of him, for it might be her last time.
In the dusky light filling the room, his body seemed dusted with gold, for the sprigs of chestnut hair that covered him caught the sun’s dying rays. He reminded her of a mighty oak—solid and unyielding in its majesty.
And while she watched with unabashed pleasure, his gaze trailed over the whole of her bared body. He climbed onto the bed in front of her, then reached out almost reverently to skim the back of his hand lightly down from the hollow of her neck to the ripe fullness of her breasts. There he paused to tease one nipple, which thrust itself boldly against his finger.
Flashing her a dark smile that made her breath stutter, he moved lower, down her belly to her hips and then to her thighs. He stroked her from her hips to her knees. Then he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs, caressing the sensitive inner skin until she thought her legs would turn to water.
A delicious shiver shook her, for everywhere he touched her she tingled. But when his hand moved higher between her legs, and he buried one finger in her honeyed warmth, she could stand no more. She swayed against him and clutched at his shoulders, wanting only to feel his body melting into hers.
With a groan, he caught her against him and kissed her deeply, even while his other hand continued to work its magic. As he brought her higher and higher to realms of fulfillment she’d never reached before, she arched against him, making low moans in her throat.
He tore his lips from hers. “That’s it, my gypsy princess. Show me your true mettle.”
Then he pressed her down against the sheets and entered her in one glorious thrust. As he drove himself inside her, he fixed his glittering gaze on her face. “Have I removed your disguise… once and for all?” he asked as his breathing grew labored. “Have I… truly captured… the elusive Mina?”
“Yes,” she whispered, meeting his thrusts with abandon. “I’m yours. Yes, yes…”
The words became a chant that kept time with her rapidly beating heart and his quickening plunges. Soon she was swept up in the pattern of the dance, in the grafting of his body to hers so they became one limb, one branch, one tree pulsing with life. Then they were at the height of the dance, and he filled her with his seed with a cry of triumph.
Afterward they lay spent and panting, their arms and legs entwined. It took several moments for Marianne’s heart to slow its frantic pace. Garett’s hands still would not cease their roaming, although now his caresses were gentle reminders of what they’d just shared. His tenderness made a lump form in her throat, and she fought back her tears, knowing he wouldn’t understand them.
Garett propped himself up on one elbow to stare down at her, his face aglow. He toyed with a lock of her hair as she gazed up at him and wondered what was to become of them now.
“I hope you’ve not made a tragic mistake in staying with me, sweetling,” he murmured, his face turning somber.
“Hush,” she whispered, wanting not to lose the beauty of the moment. “Let’s not speak of the morrow ’til it comes.” When he started to retort, she placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m hungry, Garett,” she said lightly, desperate to erase the worry from his brow. “I’d like to eat now.”
He gave her one last searching glance, then pulled her hand away from his lips and planted a soft kiss in the palm. “As you wish. We’ll eat. And we’ll leave the morrow until tomorrow.”
A reprieve. That’s what he was allowing, and she snatched it gladly.
She started to rise from the bed, but he pressed her back down. “Stay here,” he told her with a sudden gleam in his eye. Then he left the bed to go to the table.
She watched as he filled two wooden platters with food, then returned to the bed. He seemed totally oblivious to his nakedness, bu
t she couldn’t help but stare at his brawny chest, lean waist, and well-knit thighs. When he climbed back onto the bed, carefully balancing the platters, he caught her staring at him and gave her a wolfish grin that made her blush.
He set the platters down between them.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
With a grin, he broke off a piece of bread spread lavishly with butter and brought it to her mouth. Her heart giving a tiny flutter, she ate it from his hand.
His fingers brushed her lips, and she shivered in delight. Such an intimate thing, to be fed by someone. She’d never been so reckless as to eat her meal in bed. But as Garett offered her another piece of bread, his eyes burning when she took it on her tongue, she found she enjoyed this new way of eating.
In moments she was reciprocating, feeding him bits of pigeon that she’d torn from the tiny bones. Her fingers never left his mouth without his licking, sucking, or kissing them, and as soon as she discovered what a pleasure that was, she gave his the same tribute. When taken from his hands, the food tasted like manna—even the peas, each one placed on the tongue with care, became fruits of the gods.
Crumbs soon littered the bed. Their meal became a game to see who could feed the other in the most enticing manner, as they both, by silent agreement, sought to forget what lay before them in London. He laughed when she offered him bread held between her teeth, which she wouldn’t release until he took it also between his. Their playful tug of war ended when the bread softened in both of their mouths and broke, prompting yet another kiss.
After they had eaten their fill of pigeon, mutton, bread, and peas, he lifted a slice of baked apple, dripping with juice. A wicked glint in his eye, he offered her a taste. She took it in her mouth, and the spiced juice dripped down onto her breast. Before she could wipe it away, he bent his head to suck it from her skin. Then his mouth seized her nipple, teasing it until she moaned deep in her throat.
Drawing back, he stared down at the bed, littered with crumbs and dishes, and smiled. He shifted her over so he could slide the top sheet from beneath her. Then he climbed off the bed and lifted the sheet by its four corners, bundling platters, bones, and all up in it. Striding to the corner of the room, he tossed the bundle down.
By Love Unveiled Page 24