“Why are we here?” she asked, her feet shuffling as exhaustion settled in, making each step a chore.
“This was the closest, safest place I could think of.”
They entered a modest room, and he shut the door.
“Is this your cabin?” she asked, spying a bed in the corner.
He set the lantern on a bed table bolted into the wall. “It was.” Christopher stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the end of the bed before running a hand through his untamed hair. “What just happened back in the street?”
She dropped into a desk chair. “I don’t know.” Numbness settled into her bones. Her situation was hopeless.
“You don’t know,” he echoed, dumbfounded. “All right then. What were you doing there? From your clothing, I suspect you knew what manner of place you planned to go.”
“I borrowed the dress,” she muttered. “I…I had to see someone.” Her father was gone, running for his life. Without her to help him… A mist of tears blurred her vision. She didn’t think she could bear it if something happened to him. He was all she had left.
“Must have been someone important.”
“It was.” Staring at a black knot in the floorboards, she shook her head. “It would be best if you didn’t get involved in this.”
“Best for whom?”
“For both of us,” she croaked. Each time she saw Christopher Black, she dreamed of things she couldn’t have.
He knelt before her and grasped her hands. “Look at me.”
Lord, she didn’t want to. It hurt too much.
“Rebecca, look at me,” he insisted as his fingers nudged her chin higher.
Lifting her gaze, she willed herself to stop dreaming.
“Talk to me. Let me help you. You could have been killed.”
The eerie groan of the ship’s hull echoed the emptiness in Rebecca’s chest. “What does it matter? No one would care.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice cracked, and his palm smoothed over her cheek, the touch so tender, she nestled her face into his work-worn skin. “God help me, I care.”
She clenched her eyes shut, and tears slid down her cheeks. His words seeped through the numbness and revived her aching heart.
“Don’t cry.” Christopher’s lips grazed her face, kissing her tears away. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Large hands cradled her head, and his mouth settled lightly on her lips.
With a shuddering breath, she kissed him back, refusing to listen to the doubts in her head—the sensible voice that had sent Christopher away. Drawn to the comfort he offered, she slipped off her seat and knelt before him on the floor.
His arms engulfed her in a warm embrace, clutching her to his chest. “When I heard you scream, I almost went out of my mind. My God, I thought I was going to lose you.”
Her skin tingled from his quiet confession. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to her with such devotion. She clung to him, drinking in the safety of his arms. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
Christopher drew back. “You saved yourself. You’re an amazing woman.”
Her hand rose to his clean-shaven cheek. The flickering glow of the lantern cast shadows around them, but the lines of worry were unmistakable.
This man had occupied her thoughts day and night. He’d defended her against sharp tongues, advised her and taken care of her despite her rejection. Now he’d saved her life.
Her lips brushed over his. The dreams she’d held at bay drifted through her mind as his mouth responded to her touch. Achingly sweet, his lips trembled, and his hands roamed over her back.
The world outside of the ship disappeared, washed away by the constant lap of waves against the hull. The dangers they’d escaped, society’s godforsaken rules, even her father faded from her thoughts. For this one night, she would allow herself a moment of happiness.
Her hands skimmed up his solid chest. The heat of his body radiated through the fine fabric, warming her fingertips. He stared down at her hands, and swallowed hard, desire smoldering in his eyes. With brazenness she didn’t realize she possessed, she unknotted his necktie and slid the cloth free, dropping it to the floor.
“Rebecca, I don’t think—”
Shrugging out of her cloak, she lifted a finger to his lips, halting his words. “I want to touch you.”
Under his watchful eye, she removed his vest and unfastened the buttons of his starched white shirt. The coin he’d worn to the masquerade ball glistened in the lamp light.
With the tip of her finger, she touched the warm metal and moved on. Her hands smoothed over his hot skin, exploring the unfamiliar contours of his bare chest, her fingers floating over the taut muscles. She reveled in the restrained power just beneath her fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”
Impulsively, she bent forward and tasted the bared hollow of his throat, and he sucked in his breath. The mild saltiness of his skin tantalized her tongue.
His hand lifted her chin, and his lips captured hers in a hungry kiss, his mouth feverish, demanding. A thrilling tremor raced from her stomach to her toes, and she parted her lips to his probing tongue, eager to experience more.
Returning the fervid play of his mouth, of his tongue, she welcomed the pleasant fog that stemmed all thought. Her insides fluttered with each small tug that trailed from her neck to her waist as Christopher freed her dress buttons. The hooks of her corset followed with a few well-placed yanks, and soon cool air touched her flesh. A shiver passed through her when his warm palm cupped her breast through her cotton chemise.
Nowhere in her mind did she think to stop him. Heaven help her, she craved his touch like a dying woman given a last chance at life.
Her hands roamed freely through his jet-black curls as his lips brushed along her jaw.
“Your scent haunts me,” he groaned, his warm exhale tickling her ear. Wet kisses and soft nips trailed down her throat. “Mmm. Good enough to eat.”
Slipping her dress past her shoulders, Christopher drew lower. Her eyes widened as his mouth latched onto a sensitive peak covered only by the thin cotton. Tingling sensations shot into her belly, and she clenched his hair tighter.
With a growl, he pulled down the top of her chemise, and his mouth brushed her bare breast. His firm lips claimed her nipple once more, and she arched back, the intensity of the sensation so strong, her body seemed to hum.
“Hm. Not here,” he said in a hoarse rasp.
He lifted her in his powerful arms and carried her to the corner bed where he lowered her legs to the floor. He tossed her corset aside and slid her dress down her body, his eyes locked with hers. She stood before him, mesmerized, as he reached around her. Her breasts brushed against the warmth of his chest in a sensual caress while he slipped free the back ties of her petticoat and let it fall to her feet. Grasping her chemise, his fingers skimmed along her skin, and he guided it to the floor, leaving her bare, with only her woolen hose and worn boots left to cover her.
His stare ran the length of her pale body, and her self-consciousness caught up with her. She stood before him, pitifully hiding behind ill-positioned limbs.
A sensual smile warmed his face, and his eyes glowed as he pulled her arms away. “You’re more lovely than I ever imagined.”
The tone of reverence in his voice touched a tender chord, and a mist of tears dampened her eyes. She felt cherished…loved. Like a beggar stealing a taste of fine chocolate, she craved more.
He sat her on the bed and knelt before her with a hungry look in his eyes that made her insides melt and pool. Deftly, he untied her laces and slipped her boots from her feet, his hands rubbing her sole for the briefest instant before roaming to her thigh. He untied the ribbon that held up one stocking and hooked a finger in the top of her hose, dragging the fabric down her leg in a long, sensuous slide. Her breath caught as he repeated the process on the other leg, following the path with his lips, his mouth gliding over her skin, stopping to press small kisses and nips
along the way.
All trace of modesty fled her mind as he yanked his shirt tails from the waist of his trousers, and his mouth joined hers in a heady kiss. With awe, her hands roamed over his flexing muscles as he pulled the stiff material over his head, then laid her across the mattress.
“I need you,” he confessed.
A tremor raced through her limbs as his mouth seized hers. He palmed her breast, his thumb brushing her sensitive nipple with maddening strokes. Her pulse sped as his hand skimmed over her ribs, down her abdomen to the curls nestled between her thighs, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.
Boldly, she nibbled the curve of his mouth, reveling in her body’s response. Probing fingers touched her most sensitive place, and a current bolted through her. Her eyes flew open, and her teeth bit down on his lower lip.
Jerking back, Christopher ran a hand over the abused skin.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried, reaching out. What had she done? Her quick inspection proved no blood had been drawn.
His mouth quirked into a devilish grin. Lifting her knee, he grazed his teeth over its surface, sending a quiver down her limb. “Never has revenge tasted so sweet.” His mouth nipped lower along her thigh, inching ever closer to her center. Her breath quickened, and she wiggled beneath him.
He wouldn’t. His lips roamed closer still. Apparently, he would. A flustered excitement built up in her shoulders and neck until she could stand no more. She clamped a hand on either side of his head to guide his wayward mouth back to hers.
A chuckle reverberated through his chest. “All right, let’s try this instead.” His hand swept down from her knee to the valley between her thighs, his touch less shocking than before. The hum intensified as he stroked her aching flesh. She moaned when his finger dipped deep inside, and a rush of wetness eased its way. Her mouth sagged open as his finger repeated the action, each small thrust fueling the pleasant ache between her legs until her hips rocked with his movement.
With a low groan, he removed his trousers. She stared wide-eyed at the long length that sprang forth as his hands guided her legs apart. He looked far too big to fit. And she thought to tell him so, but lost the ability to speak when he eased the tip inside, and an overpowering sense of completeness enveloped her.
He hovered over her on bent elbows, and she watched with a heady thrill as he joined with her completely. The low husky sound that slipped from her lips turned into a cry when a sharp pain tore through her, only to subside as a soothing wetness replaced the sting.
Christopher stiffened. “Rebecca, my God, I didn’t know.”
He pulled back as if to rise, and she threw her arms around his neck. “No, don’t go. Please, don’t stop.”
His eyes looked darker now, unfocused, almost dazed, and his strong body lay tensed. If only they could hold the world at bay for a little while longer. For the first time in years, she felt whole, wanted, loved. She kissed him with all the emotion throbbing in her heart, and felt his muscles relax.
“How I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, and his mouth massaged hers with a heat that smoldered between them. His fullness moved within her, and the hum returned in full force.
The coarse hair that peppered his legs tickled her thighs as he slowly moved his hips, sparking a delicious tingling down below.
“More,” she gasped.
Instinctively, she tilted her pelvis and met his thrusts as shimmering excitement coursed through her veins. Their momentum quickened. Her hands slid over the muscles of his back, taking pleasure in the way they contracted beneath her fingertips.
“You feel so good,” Christopher rasped.
Each stroke brought to life new sparks of sensation that rolled through her. Higher and higher she climbed. She felt so alive, so free. A high-pitch mewl escaped her as spasms of pleasure rippled like waves where they joined. Her toes curled, her body straining to hold onto the fleeting moment. Before the last spasm subsided, Christopher cried out, and his pulsations throbbed deep within her.
After a last ragged breath, he collapsed at her side, an arm flung across her chest. With a contented sigh, she nestled her face in his hair. Its softness teased her nose, and she inhaled his unique smell, nothing she could put a name to, just pleasantly male. Rebecca’s chest stopped aching, and a different emotion took root.
Love.
That sensible voice inside her head was blissfully silent. Finally, she felt at peace.
…
Rebecca’s eyes glittered, and her tussled curls fanned out about her head like brandy-hued waves. Christopher knew a deep satisfaction when her lips curved into a tranquil smile.
Despite his own sated body, her luscious curves beckoned him. Already he longed to feel her skin slide over his again.
He nuzzled her ear and felt her shiver, but held himself back from anything more intimate. Her body would need time to heal. She’d been a virgin. While the proof of that fact had shocked the hell out of him, it also pleased him to no end.
Why had she given herself to him? The question blazed through his mind, inspiring others to follow. He pushed them all away, determined to hold on to this moment as long as he could.
Grazing a finger down her chest, he remembered. “I believe I have something of yours.”
He grasped his jacket at the foot of the bed and reached inside the pocket to withdraw the silver chain. The oval pendant dangled from his fist.
Rebecca sat up straight. “How?” she exclaimed. “I don’t understand. How did you get this back?”
He passed it to her with a shrug. “It must have been dropped once the shooting began. I saw it lying in the street when I went after a stray gun.”
She threw her arms around him. The soft brush of her breasts against his chest almost made him groan.
“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this. Thank you.” Sitting back, she examined the chain, inspecting the broken links.
“Tomorrow we can stop by a jeweler if you’d like, to get the chain fixed.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“May I?” he asked, extending his hand.
The cool metal coiled in his palm, and he studied the fine etching of a dove in flight on the locket’s face.
“My mother gave it to me shortly before she died.”
He opened the tiny latch that held the locket shut, and Rebecca leaned in, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “The pictures are of my parents.”
The woman in the tiny portrait shared Rebecca’s almond-shaped eyes and slender nose. “Your mother was a beautiful woman.”
Rebecca’s tone turned wistful. “It’s been so long now. Without that picture, I can hardly remember what she looked like anymore. The exact color of her hair, the shape of her smile…those unique details have faded from my mind.”
He swept his arm around her, offering what comfort he could. Snapping the locket shut, he felt an etching on the back and turned the piece over. “Give all to love,” he read.
A sad smile played about her lips. “Her last piece of advice, I suppose.” Her brow wrinkled, the grief he glimpsed in her eyes a living thing. “She loved my father so much, she gave up her life trying to give him the son he’d always wanted.”
His protective instincts welled up. She’d lived through such pain, such sorrow. And her problems only continued. He unclasped the amulet from his neck and threaded the locket onto his chain, setting the damaged one aside.
“Christopher, you don’t need to—”
He brushed her curly locks to the side and swept the silver around her throat. “I want to,” he whispered, securing the catch. His fingers lingered, caressing the silky skin at the nape of her neck. Rebecca stirred feelings in him he thought buried.
She lifted his lucky coin, running a finger over the bronze symbols. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and settled her back against his chest. Rebecca relaxed, and tenderness swept over him, a protectiveness so fierce he never wanted to let her go.
/> Taking her hand in his, he ran his thumb over her pale skin and the white scar on her knuckle. A question formed on his tongue as his fingers smoothed over her palm, where small nicks from her scuffle marred her rough skin. Rough skin?
He turned her hand palm up. “You’re injured,” he said, but he ignored the minor abrasions, the older callused skin capturing his attention.
“It’s nothing,” Rebecca insisted, pulling her hand away.
A lady with callused skin? His eyes trained on her faded black dress lying in a heap on the floor, still dusty from her tussle in the street. And the image of a maid Rebecca’s exact height and build flashed in his mind, a servant with brandy colored hair who’d winced from his touch due to a blister on the back of her hand. Christopher squeezed his lids tight. Damn, what had he just done?
Chapter Eight
CHRISTOPHER LOWERED HIS HEAD and massaged his temples with the heels of his hands. Dressed against the chill in the cabin, he’d been slumped at the small desk for hours, and still nothing made sense.
His eyes strayed to Rebecca, a soundless pile of bedding in the corner shadows. Last night had been incredible. He’d been so relieved she’d escaped. What followed had seemed so natural, so pure. Even now he wanted to go to her.
Tearing his eyes away from the bed, he cursed quietly. What was the matter with him? Didn’t he have any loyalty? Nathan had been a true friend.
And this was how he repaid him? He’d made love to the prime suspect in Nathan’s murder, the woman Nathan had loved.
Hell, even if he ignored all that, she’d lied to him about who she really was. What a fool. Of course she’d lied. She’d been lying since they’d met at the ball. Yet somehow it still surprised him like a slap across the face.
Some detective—he should have placed her when he first saw her.
All along, she’d been a housemaid masquerading as a lady, but to what end? Clearly, she hadn’t been Nathan’s lover, no matter what he’d believed before. Even so, he had no doubt Rebecca was involved with Nathan in some way, and until he found out how, he would let her play the heiress and see where it led him. Besides, Nathan had been right. She did need protecting. And he would stick by her side, keep her safe, for Nathan, and himself.
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