by Darcy Burke
Her breasts grew heavy, and her entire body thrummed with pent-up desire. Still, he simply sat there. “Aren’t you going to touch me?”
He raised a brow and she couldn’t be sure if she’d interrupted a lust-filled reverie in which touching her hadn’t occurred to him or he’d simply been waiting for her invitation. His lips spread into a slow, wicked smile. “Yes.”
With great speed, he leaned forward and took her in his arms. He pressed her back onto the blankets and covered her body with his. Poised above her face, he touched a finger to her mouth, traced first the lower lip and then the upper. Her body screamed with need.
And then he splayed his palm against her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her with a kiss so full of passion, so overwhelming, it crowded all thought from her mind. She quivered beneath the onslaught of his tongue as it stroked her lips and then the recesses of her mouth. Her response encompassed everything she could give, desperate for it to be enough to ease the hunger building between them. She’d never been kissed like this, not even when he’d been the highwayman. He seemed to be drawing something from her, coaxing something to the surface of her consciousness. A wild craving exploded in her breast and between her thighs.
He cradled the back of her neck while he angled his head to better plunder her mouth. She tangled her hands in his hair, holding him to her, never wanting to let go.
Working the buttons of her spencer free, he delved his fingers inside and paused for the briefest moment. Then he pulled back and looked down at her chest. “What are you wearing?”
She moved her hands to his shoulders. “A nightdress.”
“You came out here dressed in your nightclothes?”
She shrugged. “It seemed unnecessary to dress for a social occasion.”
He laughed then. A deep, throaty, wonderful sound that slammed heat into every corner of her body. “Miranda, I adore you.”
Heady sensation careened through her until she feared it would leak out in the form of a giggle. Swallowing the emotion, she arched up off the blanket and kissed him, running her tongue over his lower lip. With a groan, he opened his mouth and hastily stripped the spencer from her. His hand moved to her waistband and found the hooks of her skirt. Deftly, he loosened the garment and pushed it down over her thighs. She wiggled her hips in assistance.
Fox whispered against her lips, “Be still. I’ll do it.” He sat back and pulled the skirt from her legs, exposing her nightdress, which came to her knees. His fingertips caressed her calves in turn as he removed her half-boots and set them to the side. He glanced up at her with a half-smile and skimmed his palms up her right leg until he found the garter above her knee. “Will your feet be cold if I take these off?”
“I don’t think I’m capable of being cold around you.”
“Mmm. Exactly as I’d hoped.” He bent over her and unfastened the garter. His warm fingers massaged her flesh, and then his lips were against the back of her knee. His touch tickled, too captivating to resist, and she shivered. His breath heated her skin. “Divine.” No, there was no chance of being chilled now.
Slowly, he rolled off her stocking and flung it away. With infinite patience he repeated the ritual with her other leg, flicking his tongue into the dimple at the side of her knee.
Having bared her legs, he crouched over her ankles and brushed his palms up to the heat of her inner thighs. She opened herself instinctively and cast her head back against the blanket. Her nightdress bunched around her waist, but he pushed at it, exposing her belly.
Anticipation sparked her nerve endings, made her arch up and seek more of him. She wanted to feel his body over her as he’d been before.
Then his thumb pressed against her sex, and she cried out. Sensation spiraled through her, immediately driving her to the brink of desperation. She thrust her hips into his hand, but he stroked her with maddening softness. She gasped, taking air into her lungs until she nearly panted with longing.
He moved up her body, pulling the nightdress from her in a fluid movement. All the while, his fingers played a slow, methodical rhythm against the burning flesh between her legs. His tongue flicked against her nipple, further battering her patience. She clasped his head and he closed his hot mouth over her breast. Furious whimpers tumbled from her as he used his tongue to tease the tip into a throbbing bud of sensitivity. She pushed her breast further into his mouth, begging him for more.
And then he kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth just as his finger pierced her moist sheath. She jerked upward and pulled at his hair, returning his kiss with a lust that surely lacked sanity.
She rocked her hips against his hand. He stroked in, out, his finger working her toward the frenzy that promised to claim her, give her peace.
He sat back abruptly, and she at last felt a blast of cold. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched him remove his boots with quick movements.
Barefooted, he shed his trousers and paused beside her, staring over the length of her body. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.” He caressed her breasts, her belly, her thighs. “So perfect.” He gazed into her eyes. “That you would give yourself to me is incredibly humbling.”
A twinge of embarrassment heated her face. “Why?”
He smiled. “Because you’re Miranda. A goddess to my mere mortality. I am a beast beside you.”
She shook her head, not at all comfortable with his comparison. “I’m just a woman. Your woman.”
He fell on top of her with a primal growl, and she recalled the hard labor he performed daily. His work-calloused hands cradled her face while he ravaged her mouth with stark need. He settled himself between her legs, his smooth hardness caressing her sex.
Pressing against her, he put his hand between their bodies and stroked her softness.
“Wait.”
He froze at her command, closing his eyes as if he were pained. “Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I just…want to touch you.” She reached between them and found his hand. “Show me what to do.”
He opened his eyes and the gold centers burned as hot as her core. “Here.” He wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He was soft but hard, like wood sheathed in silk. “You can move your hand if you like.”
He groaned, and she smiled in appreciation. Experimentally, she closed her hand around him more firmly and slid her palm down to the base and then up again to the velvety tip. Amazing this would fit inside her, but she supposed it must.
His breathing increased with her movements. “Miranda, I need to come inside of you. Now.”
She withdrew her hand and kissed his mouth. “Then come.”
Chapter Eighteen
FOX’S hand shook as he probed her wet satin. Her sheath contracted around his middle finger until he reluctantly withdrew it. With great care, he replaced his finger with his cock, closing his eyes as paradise engulfed him. He breathed deeply, willing his hips to remain steady instead of driving forward and causing her undue discomfort. She stretched around him, rocking her pelvis back to accept his invasion.
She drew in a sharp breath. Fox stilled. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He had absolutely no experience with virgins.
“It’s fine.” Her voice strained and he didn’t believe her. “Truly. I just need to accommodate this…” Her muscles contracted, and Fox worried he’d spill himself too soon. “There, better.” She smiled against his neck and kissed the flesh there.
Her grip on his cock nearly undid him, but he drew back and plunged again with a bit more force. He clasped her legs around him, angling her hips for the optimal position. She complied with abandon, opening herself to him completely, her hands keeping him close. As if he’d ever leave.
He basked in the thrill of her passion, stroking in and out of the shelter her body so eagerly gave. Their breath came fast and hard against each other. Her eyes were closed, her head cast back with the graceful column of her neck exposed. Fox licked h
er heated flesh and nipped at the velvety softness just beneath her ear. She shivered and clutched him even tighter between her legs.
Ecstasy built and threatened to devastate his carefully held control. He forced himself to hold back, to prolong the pleasure as long as possible. The first moment he’d seen her on the highway he’d deemed her perfect. The first time he kissed her, he’d lost his footing in the only reality he’d ever known. Now, emotion pulled him over the edge, pitched him into the sparkling beyond. Quickly, he reached between them and stroked her until she cried out. He covered her mouth with his, suffocating the sounds of her undeniable rapture, taking them deep inside of himself where he would cherish them forever.
She clenched around him, her arms clutching his back, her tongue dancing with his while her throat elicited erotic sounds of joy and sheer satisfaction. He welcomed the crushing orgasm shuddering through his frame and poured into her. He held her close, broke their kiss and gasped against her neck. With a final thrust, he spent himself. When his breathing slowed, he pressed his lips to her neck, pushed stray strands of her golden hair away from her face.
Shimmering aqua eyes met his gaze and crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Is there more?”
Fox leaned up on an elbow. “You’re not satisfied?”
“Yes, quite. But, are you?” She glanced down, and he knew she referred to the fact he hadn’t left her.
His lips curved up. “More than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” He eased away from her and settled against her side. He pressed a kiss to her blond head, still thunderstruck she’d chosen him, come to help him.
She turned in his arms. “Why does Lord Norris want so badly for you to be convicted? I don’t understand.”
Fox pulled a blanket over them. “He knows I know about his extortion. I stole a good number of his annual tributes, which Stratham had collected.”
Her eyes widened. “You robbed Stratham?”
He smiled. “You don’t believe I’m capable of such an act?”
“Well, I saw you steal from Carmody with my own eyes, so I suppose you’re capable. I just hadn’t heard about it.”
He stroked his fingers along her shoulder and upper arm. “Because Stratham and Norris didn’t tell anyone. What were they to say? A highwayman stole a great deal of money they were transporting for the purpose of corruption?”
She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. It didn’t leave much fabric for him. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in gorgeous disarray. “Why couldn’t Stratham have just said the money belonged to him?”
Fox pulled another blanket over his lap and sat back against the saddle. “I suppose he could have, but it seems Norris didn’t believe Stratham’s story anyway. He reckoned Stratham probably took the money himself.”
Miranda shook her head. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t have any evidence against Stratham or Norris.”
Her eyes lit. “Maybe Stratham will help you!”
He scoffed. “He wouldn’t give me a drink of water if I were dying of thirst.”
She raised a creamy-white, bare shoulder. “He’s not so bad. He did give the benefit for the orphanage.”
Fox knew he should focus on this conversation because he needed a plan, but he’d be damned if her disheveled state and the scent of their lovemaking wasn’t making it nearly impossible. “Because you forced him into it.”
She seemed oblivious to his rising lust, tapping a finger against her kiss-swollen lips. “But you said Norris thought Stratham stole the money, that Norris didn’t believe he’d been robbed. Surely Stratham wasn’t very happy about that. Perhaps he’d be willing to help bring down Norris?”
Unable to stop himself, Fox leaned forward and kissed her. Though brief, the connection affected her enough to leave her looking slightly dazed. He grinned. “Miranda, you’ve a brilliant mind. He’s likely to have evidence of some kind. Now how do we persuade him to help me, of all people?”
Miranda dropped the blanket. Her breasts arched like perfect ivory globes, their tips proudly pink and so luscious. He started to lean forward again but she’d jumped to her feet and collected her clothes. “I’ll do it. I’ll go now.”
Fox stood. “You can’t go now. It’s the middle of the night.”
She tossed her nightdress over her head and then sat again in order to fasten her garters. “Actually, it’s closer to morning. We need to get you out of here as soon as possible. Oh!” She froze in her movements and looked up at him. Her gaze paused at the juncture of his thighs, and God help him, his body responded. Beautiful roses bloomed in her cheeks as she jerked her attention to his face.
For the sake of her modesty, Fox pulled on his drawers and then his pantaloons before dropping to his knees before her on the blanket. “I appreciate you wanting to help me, but I need to be the one to see Stratham.”
He finished dressing and she followed suit. “How are you going to do that when you’re locked in here?” she asked as she tried to tame her hair with her fingers. It was no use; she looked absolutely ravished. Ridiculous male pride surged in his chest.
“I’ve a plan.” Fox went to the door and pulled it open a sliver. Still draped over the table, Tom snored loudly. Fox pushed the door wide and gestured at Freddie sitting in a chair near the exterior entrance, likely keeping watch on the manor house. The good lad hurried to the tack room.
Fox took Miranda’s hand and led her over the threshold. He turned to Freddie. “Can you make sure Lady Miranda gets back to the house?”
Freddie nodded. “Aye.”
“If you run into someone, you’ll need to explain why you aren’t here guarding me.” Fox knew they weren’t going to like what he said next, but he refused to allow Miranda to go to Stratham Hall. She couldn’t continue to behave in a reckless fashion, especially on his behalf. “You’ll say I escaped.”
“What?” Miranda dropped his hand and turned to face him.
“Miranda, this is the best way. I’ve got to be the one to see Stratham. And if things work out as we hope, my escape won’t matter because there will be nothing to charge me with.”
“But how will you have escaped? You’re supposedly locked inside with two men guarding you. You don’t want to get Freddie in trouble.” Her gaze flicked to the helpful groom.
“No, of course not.” He glanced at Freddie whose face had gone a bit pale. “Freddie will tell them I called to use the privy and when Tom opened the door, I hit him. He’s already unconscious, and the whisky will likely prevent him from recalling what actually happened.”
Freddie looked from the snoring Tom to Fox. “Are you going to hit him? In case someone looks him over?”
Fox shrugged. “I suppose I could if you think it’s necessary.”
“Nah, I’ll do it. He’s an imbecile anyway.” Freddie picked up a bucket and whacked Tom on the head. Miranda flinched, but Tom didn’t move. Freddie took Tom’s arm and pulled him off the chair. Fox rushed to help him drag the man to the tack room.
Freddie stepped over the prone Tom. “I suppose you have to hit me then too.”
Fox would sooner hit himself. “Why can’t you have gone out to use the privy yourself? It makes sense for me to wait for one of you to leave before launching an escape attempt. You came running back when you saw me ride out of the stable.”
Freddie nodded. “Just might work. Aye, I think it will.”
Miranda looked between the two men. Fox could see the wheels of her mind turning as her expression changed from alarm to wariness and finally to acceptance.
Fox smiled to allay her fear. “Are you ready?”
Her gaze softened and she reached up to touch his jaw. “Please be careful.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, but it ended too soon. Later there would be time. “Now, go.” He gestured for both of them to leave.
Freddie turned back. “Take the bay.” He pointed to a horse in a stall near the door. “Stone’s
as fast as any of his lordship’s mounts.”
“Thank you, Freddie. For everything. And when this is over, I’ll expect you to come work for me.”
The boy grinned. “Happy to, sir.”
Freddie and Miranda left. She turned and waved, reminding him of the first time they parted—after their kiss on the highway. Fox ducked into the stall and quickly readied Stone, not bothering with a saddle.
He rode out into the coming dawn but slowed the animal upon seeing three figures outside the manor house, instead of two. Alarm pricked his neck. He squinted in the near-darkness, trying to determine the third person’s identity. Tall, broad-shouldered. Not Norris. Taking Stone closer, he swore as recognition hit him like a fist to the gut. Saxton. Why the hell wasn’t he at Stratham Hall?
Fox wanted to stop and face Saxton with Miranda, but he had to go. If he didn’t leave now, he might not have another chance. Kicking Stone into a gallop, he forced himself not to look back.
MURKY gray clouds swirled against the deep purple of the predawn sky as Miranda and Freddie made their way from the barn. She knew the color well, since she often arrived home at precisely this hour when she resided in London. That seemed a lifetime ago.
During their progression to the house, she kept looking back to watch for Fox’s departure. When Freddie gasped, she jerked her head forward and nearly stumbled into Jasper.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you.” Jasper’s flat tone and tense features reflected his disappointment. “I instructed the maid to check in on you at intervals.”
If she wasn’t panicked about Fox’s plan failing, she would’ve been outraged by her brother’s actions. Instead, she only wanted to delay him so that Fox could get away.
She tugged at his arm. “Come inside, Jasper. I’ve something to tell you.”
His gaze judged her from her tousled hair to her inappropriate attire. “From the look of you, I can well imagine what you’re going to say. At least no one else has seen you. Yes, I agree we need to get inside.”