The Saint of Seven Dials: Collector's Edition

by Brenda Hiatt

"Very well. Those paths are broader, should we wish to, ah, canter." She felt as though they were holding two separate conversations, one spoken and one unspoken. Or perhaps her naughty imagination was oversetting her reason.

  They turned toward the south, first trotting, then cantering in the cool morning air. Pearl was content for a while to simply let the breeze lift her hair, leaving all of her worries behind her. As they neared the southeastern corner of Hyde Park, however, they slowed and reality intruded again.

  "You were going to explain your plan to me today," she reminded him, when they had passed several minutes in silence.

  Reining his horse to a walk, he drew closer. "I was," he agreed, then fell silent again, watching her, for so long an interval that she wondered whether his thoughts were traveling the same improper channels as her own.

  "And?" she prompted.

  "I asked you yesterday whether you cared greatly about scandal. I had hoped . . . That is, I thought perhaps I could—"

  Transferring both reins to one hand, she reached out with the other, to touch his arm. Even through layers of fabric, the contact had the power to stir her senses. "Luke, I don't care about scandal, truly. At least . . . not much," she admitted. "If you believe the only way to—"

  He pulled to a halt, gazing earnestly into her eyes. "I don't want to do anything to hurt you, Pearl, not ever. I'd hoped I could provoke Bellowsworth into challenging me, simply by persisting in my attentions to you. Then I could free you of him quite handily."

  "But . . . duelling is illegal," Pearl reminded him, alarmed. "If you shot him, you would be transported —possibly even hanged. I'd rather marry him than risk that, I assure you." Worry became anger. "How could you even consider such a thing?"

  He grinned and shook his head. "I didn't intend to kill the fellow. He's such a coward, I had high hopes of persuading him to relinquish his claim upon you in exchange for his safety. I fear I may have underestimated the extent of his cowardice, however. I am not now certain I can provoke him to a challenge at all."

  "Unless he has reason to believe you have compromised me," said Pearl, believing she now understood. "Which is why you asked about my tolerance for scandal."

  "Yes. But there is another way." He was watching her again, gauging her. "One that need not involve you so directly. I can challenge him, over some imagined slight."

  Though touched by his concern, she shook her head. "No, if he is as great a coward as you believe, he might refuse it, or even bring the law to bear against you, which could be terribly risky given your recent, ah, lifestyle. Any challenge must come from him. Besides," she said with a sidelong glance, "I'd prefer to be . . . directly involved."

  The heat in his eyes was unmistakeable now. "I was rather hoping you would say that. Pearl, since that night —our one night together—"

  "I have dreamed of it, too." Even now, in the full light of morning, in the open air of the Park, the memory had the power to arouse her to the point of almost unbearable longing.

  "Will you come with me now, Pearl?" he asked with sudden urgency. "It is early yet—no one who is likely to recognize us is about. And Hardwyck Hall is but a short distance away."

  "Now I understand your choice of this path," she responded playfully, savoring his obvious desire for her. "But what matter if we are seen? Is that not the point?"

  Again he smiled, his eyes all but devouring her where she sat, atop her mare. "Not the entire point, no."

  She felt as though his gaze were a physical thing, caressing her body with fire. "Lead on, then," she said, forcing her voice to lightness. "I'll watch your seat, to see if it is still as stiff as it was yesterday."

  "Stiffer, I assure you. As you will discover soon enough." Urging his horse to a quick trot, he exited the Park and turned to the left along Picadilly. Pearl followed close behind, thoroughly enjoying her view of him, anticipating seeing more, much more, very soon.

  They reached Hardwyck Hall in moments. A few early tradesmen were about, but none of the ton. Still, Luke led her around to the mews before swinging down from his horse and then helping her to dismount. "If we can somehow contrive to let only Bellowsworth know of this, the rest of Society need not discover it," he said.

  "I told you I don't care," she reminded him, and at this moment she meant it. All she cared about was being with Luke again, sating her desire for him, a desire which threatened to rage out of control at any moment.

  He dropped a quick kiss on her nose. "I know you did. But I care. I want to spare you any unpleasantness, if possible."

  "I'm not finding this unpleasant in the least," she retorted, brazenly tilting her face up to him.

  He lowered his lips to hers for a lingering kiss. She had missed this. Yes, a mere moment of heaven with Luke was worth any scandal. "Shall we go inside?" she asked breathlessly when at last he released her lips.

  Without a word, he tucked her arm into his and led her to the back door. A single servant bustled about the kitchens, but at a flick of Luke's head, he magically disappeared. They encountered no one else on their way through the house. Up the great staircase, past the public rooms, up again. Pearl scarcely noticed her surroundings, however, anticipating what lay ahead.

  Opening one of the many doors on the passage, he drew her into a room and then closed the door behind them. She had a hazy impression of a masculine bedchamber, a large four-poster bed with a deep burgundy counterpane, but her focus was on Luke alone. She reached up to pull his mouth down to hers for another kiss, more passionate than the last. It was like slaking a long thirst, while awakening an even deeper one.

  Luke growled, deep in his throat, a sound of animal desire that only inflamed her further. She slid her arms up his back, threading her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer.

  "Wait," he murmured against her lips. His arms were around her, and she felt him doing something behind her back. Then he pulled her hands down, his own moving from her shoulders down to her wrists —to strip off her gloves with his own now-bare hands.

  She murmured her approval, revelling in once again feeling his skin against her own. Along with their gloves, they seemed to have stripped off the last of their inhibitions, as well. They fumbled with each other's clothing, clumsy in their haste.

  When Pearl would have torn the stubborn fastenings from her habit, Luke stopped her, forcing her to wait while he undid every hook rather than damage the gown. She understood the necessity, but chafed at the delay. The moment the last hook came free, she shrugged out of the dress, stepping over the rich wine-colored fabric now pooled on the floor— the same color as the bed.

  The bed. Luke seated himself on its edge to finish divesting himself of his boots and breeches. She slipped out of her undergarments while he did so, ready and more than ready to move to the next stage. Before he could rise, she was as naked as he, and moved quickly to join him. He looked up at her questioningly, and with a grin she pushed him back upon the bed.

  "So the lady is in an authoritative mood today, is she?" he asked with an answering smile.

  "She is." To demonstrate, she clambered atop him, pinning him to the down mattress, her hands on his shoulders.

  His eyebrows arched with surprise, though there was no dimming of the desire in his eyes. "I place my fate in your hands, my lady."

  "Mmm. And not only your fate." With all of his masculine length before her, she set about exploring it in detail. First the firm planes of his chest, the muscles well defined under a sprinkling of dark, crisp curls. His sides, smooth but hard, tapering down from the width of his shoulders to the narrowness of his hips. His flat, firm belly. Lower . . .

  He gasped as her fingers encircled his shaft, still startling in its size. But now she felt no fear— only desire to have him within her once again, fulfilling the need she felt for him. She shifted above him until she straddled his hips with her thighs, then leaned down to kiss him, the length of his shaft trapped between them.

  "You've become quite the seductress after only one le
sson," he commented when she raised her head again.

  "Ah, but it was such an excellent lesson." Still playful, she nuzzled his throat, then his chest, skimming her palms across his flat, male nipples, hard with his arousal.

  Without warning, he pulled her back down against him. "Time for another lesson, then, in just how effective your wiles are." Moving his hips slightly, he brought his shaft into direct contact with her most sensitive spot, causing her to gasp in her turn. Now he moved her slowly atop him, so that she slid along its length, every inch a new ecstasy.

  She continued the rhythm on her own, freeing his hands for other pursuits. Reaching behind her, between her spread legs, he found her cleft and explored it, first with one finger, then two. She tightened convulsively around him, sensing that she was nearing her peak.

  He must have sensed it too, for he lifted her again, to impale her with his maleness. No tentative gentleness this time, but a thrust into her depths, joining them in a rhythm as old as humanity itself.

  Pearl felt herself disintegrating around him, melting into fragments of pure sensation. Still he thrust, and still she climbed, until she cried out in an incoherent expression of ultimate pleasure. While she still throbbed about him, he thrust again and again, until his moans mingled with hers as he reached his own fulfillment.

  Together they slowly descended from the dizzying heights, nerves tingling with the aftermath of the climax they had achieved. Pearl lifted her head to gaze on his face, not caring what he might read in her eyes. With a slow smile, he drew her mouth down for a kiss, long and languorous.

  "You are the most amazing woman I have ever known," he murmured at length. "I love you, Pearl."

  The longed-for words reverberated through her being, bringing a pleasure nearly as intense as the physical one they had just shared. By way of reply, she kissed him again, trying to communicate all she felt through her lips and her body, still joined with his. To her surprise, she felt his shaft swell within her in response.

  "To hell with Bellowsworth and Society," Luke growled when she lifted her head again to regard him questioningly. "What would you say to an elopement? With a fast carriage and good horses along the way, we could reach Scotland in three days' time."

  It was the first time he had mentioned marriage directly, and she blinked in surprise. "Now? Today?" The fog of euphoria cleared slightly, allowing traces of reason in. "What if we were overtaken?"

  "That doesn't sound like a refusal, at least." His eyes twinkled warmly.

  She smiled. "Not a refusal at all. But—"

  "But we should plan, to maximize our chances of success. You're right. And we will . . . in a few moments." As he spoke, he began to move within her again, rolling her onto her side.

  Pearl would no more refuse him in this than in an elopement. She kept rolling until he was atop her and let him direct the renewal of their passion, even sweeter than before now that she knew he wanted a lifetime with her.

  * * *

  "I must get back," Pearl said regretfully, some time later, when they both lay sated again. "Everyone will be awake and about by now, and my absence will be noticed. I don't wish to put Hettie in an untenable situation again."

  Luke could not protest, much though he'd have liked to. "Very well, my sweet." With a last, quick kiss, he rose, then helped her out of bed for a longer kiss that promised the future.

  As at Oakshire House, they dressed in silence, but this time punctuated by smiles and touches. They were linked now, and would remain so, whatever came. Luke had never felt more content.

  Once they were both dressed, he led her back through the house and out the kitchen door. Again, no servants were in evidence, and he congratulated himself on having the foresight to warn them away before leaving the house this morning.

  Pearl apparently noticed as well. As he put his hands to her waist, preparing to toss her into her sidesaddle, she commented, "It seems you took the precaution of sending most of your servants away for this occasion. Were you so certain of me?"

  She was smiling, clearly not upset by the thought, but he felt obliged to defend himself anyway. "I merely wished to be prepared for all eventualities, of course."

  Chuckling, Pearl opened her mouth for a retort. Before she could speak, however, another voice cut through the morning quiet of the mews.

  "So it's true. Lady Pearl, I would not have believed it of you!"

  As one, they both spun to face Lord Bellowsworth where he stood at the entrance to the mews, his eyes wide with horror.

  "Back to Plan A," Luke muttered under his breath. Releasing Pearl's waist, he strode toward Bellowsworth. "You are abroad early, my lord." Though he spoke softly, his voice held a warning —one his unexpected visitor did not heed.

  "Not as early as the two of you, it seems." Bellowsworth's eyes flicked from Pearl to Luke and back, his expression still disbelieving. "I am shocked, my lady. Beyond shocked. Whatever am I to tell my mother?"

  Luke had to swallow a laugh at this unexpected conclusion, but managed to keep any hint of amusment from his voice. "You won't be telling anyone, Bellowsworth. To do so would be to besmirch the Lady Pearl's honor."

  Tearing his eyes away from Pearl, Bellowsworth finally focused on Luke, now directly before him. "I'd say you've done that already, Hardwyck."

  "And?" Luke asked ominously.

  "And . . . and you'll both be sorry for it, when word gets out. The Duchess will be most displeased, my lady."

  Luke sighed inwardly. The man was a complete milksop —he simply could not be provoked. Deliberately, he removed his gloves. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pearl watching, her eyes wide— but not as wide as Bellowsworth's.

  "What . . . what are you doing?" he stammered.

  Instead of replying, Luke struck him across the face with his gloves —not violently, but smartly enough to sting. The soft thwap of kidskin against flesh was amplified by the silence around them. Behind him, Pearl gasped —as did Bellowsworth.

  "I knew you were not worthy of her," Luke said, almost conversationally. "As you will not defend the lady's honor, I see I must. Name your seconds."

  For a moment, he thought Bellowsworth would refuse —or faint dead away. But the man apparently had some vestigial backbone after all. "Very well, Hardwyck," he said in a strangled whisper. "I'll . . . I'll send his name to you shortly."

  "Have him call on Lord Marcus Northrup." Luke coolly reminded him of the proper procedure. "He will act for me." Marcus's face, when informed of this fact, would be most amusing. Luke rather looked forward to seeing it.

  "Very . . . very well." Bellowsworth seemed completely at a loss, shaken almost to the point of tears. "May I escort you home, Lady Pearl?"

  Luke tensed. How dared he—?

  "Thank you, no." Pearl's voice held not the slightest quaver. "It seems more appropriate that my protector do so."

  Luke had to bite his lip to stifle his amusement at the double entendre. Whether Bellowsworth caught it, he could not tell, for the man merely flushed scarlet and bowed stiffly before disappearing around the corner as quickly as he had appeared.

  The moment he was gone, Pearl ran to Luke and surprised him with a fierce hug. "You were marvelous!" she exclaimed. "But now we must manage our elopement before this meeting can take place."

  Luke set her away from him, both hands on her shoulders, with a frown. "What do you mean? I'm quite looking forward to meeting Bellowsworth on the field of honor —not that the man seems to have any."

  "Exactly. I don't think he'll go through with it. More likely, he'll report the whole thing to the authorities and attempt to have you arrested. We dare not risk it." Her violet eyes were wide with concern for him. Luke was deeply touched, but he shook his head.

  "I'm sorry, my love. Whatever the risk, I cannot fail to appear, particularly as I was the one to offer the challenge. Even a thief such as I has more honor than that."

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a quick kiss. "Besides," he contin
ued, "Bellowsworth may surprise us and come prepared to duel. For all we know, he's a crack shot."

  "This is supposed to comfort me?" she demanded, her fine eyes now snapping with anger. "Men can be so absurd, with their high-flown ideas of honor. History is littered with honorable corpses. I would not have you become another one."

  "Never fear, my sweet," he said, reaching for her again. "I promise to be careful. Now let me see you home."

  She spun away from him. "I'll see myself home. It appears I am the only one I can truly rely upon after all."

  Her grand exit was somewhat marred when she had to wait for Luke to help her into her saddle. It gave him one more chance to reason with her.

  "Pearl, it will all turn out right, you'll see. No one will be killed, and Bellowsworth will relinquish his claim on you. We won't have to elope after all."

  She stared down at him from atop her mare, her expression unreadable. "Then I suppose it is worth the risk —for you. Good day, my lord." With that, she turned her mount, flicked the reins, and was gone.

  Luke stared after her with a frown. Now what the devil had she meant by that? He would call upon her later and find out. Right now, he'd best alert Marcus to expect a call from Bellowsworth's second, whoever it might be. Grinning in anticipation, he vaulted into the saddle.

  * * *

  "I should never have gone there. You were right, damn you. I was so certain you must be mistaken."

  Wallis Knox sat at his ease in the small tavern where he had told Bellowsworth to meet him, dispassionately watching his confederate as he threatened to dissolve into a puddle of nerves.

  "Then it is as well that you went, is it not?" he asked dryly. "You would not have wished to marry the girl while she was carrying on an intrigue with my nephew."

  Bellowsworth propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. "No, I suppose not. But now I must fight a duel with the blackguard, and I've no doubt he means to kill me."

  "You challenged him? Good for you! I didn't think you had it in you." It was just what Knox had hoped for, in fact, though from what he knew of Bellowsworth, he'd rather feared—