by Lauren Royal
The firelight played off the shiny black silk, and he wished he could sink his fingers into it, wrap it around his hands and pull her head back, devour her mouth with his. But he willed his hands to continue the systematic strokes, his traitorous body to ignore the sensual stimulation the simple act elicited.
"It's so beautiful…" he whispered once despite himself, pausing to rub the glistening mass between his palms. She froze as though she were surprised, and he would swear she even stopped breathing for a few seconds. But she didn't say a word, and he went on with his task.
He toyed with the idea of setting her up as his mistress, installing her in his beloved castle and building Priscilla the modern manor house she coveted. But deep inside, he knew it would never work. And he daydreamed of taking Amy to wife, living with her openly, without pretense.
Still, old convictions were difficult to overcome.
When her hair was dry and gleaming, he rose and she came up with him. She turned to him with a gentle smile. "Thank you," she whispered. "I feel much better now."
"I'm glad." She stood so close he could feel the heat from her body. He swallowed hard. "Can you face the bed now?"
She nodded, her smile wobbly but determined. "It's a different bed."
"Yes, it is." He led her to it and lifted a corner of the covers; she unwrapped her towel and slipped between the sheets.
Her gaze followed him as he poured water from the ewer to rinse the bloodstain from his shirt, then moved to the hearth to lay it out to dry. His heart warmed at her peaceful, sleepy expression. When his boots hit the floor with two dull thuds, she closed her eyes. He undressed and blew out the candles, then slid into bed beside her.
"Amy?"
"Hmm?"
He had to know. "Did he? …I mean…"
She rolled to face him, opening her eyes to search his in the firelight. "No. He didn't," she whispered. "You arrived just in time. Like magic."
His body sagged into the bed with the release of tension he hadn't known he'd been holding.
She touched his face with feather-light fingertips. "It has only ever been you, Colin. Only you."
If he hadn't known it before, in that moment he knew for certain she was destined to be his. It seemed the harder he tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, unable to respond to her artless admission.
"I still cannot believe you're here." Her eyes turned luminous as her fingertips stroked his jaw. "It was dark in that corridor—so dark that once you battered down the door, I could see only your outline framed in the opening. But I knew it was you. I knew it, but I couldn't believe it. I'd prayed my screaming would draw someone to help, but I never imagined the help would be you." Her fingers stilled on his face. "Am I dreaming?"
He brought his hand up and laced it together with hers. "No," he managed to say. "You're not dreaming."
"You were far away—at Greystone—then suddenly you were there. Exactly when I needed you. Just like during the fire."
The wonder in her voice, the total trust her words implied, made Colin's heart skip a beat.
"I'll always be here when you need me," he said simply. "Always."
He squeezed her hand tight, then drew her head down to rest on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and settled her small, soft body against his. He stroked her satiny skin, feeling her respiration settle into an even pattern, her body relax in the solace of long-denied sleep.
The weight of her head on his shoulder, the warmth of her breath on his neck, the silky pillows of her breasts nestled against him—all were heaven.
Yet he felt as though he were in hell.
Though his heart told him it was so, it seemed impossible to admit that the pure essence of Amy—her inherent goodness, her intelligent strength, her passion for life—more than compensated for any shortcomings in her background. She would make a wonderful mother someday; her warmth and compassion would create a haven of security no pedigree could provide; he saw that now. The bond he felt between them—as though she existed for him alone—would extend to children of their bodies as naturally as passion darkened her amethyst eyes.
And yet, he remembered another strong bond: that of a little boy for his parents. And he remembered the heartrending pain of abandonment.
How had this happened to him? He was rational, determined. He'd had a plan.
He hadn't wanted to love anyone.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
There was a King's Arms not three blocks from the Chases' town house. The few patrons still there had never heard of Robert Stanley, but the innkeeper directed Kendra and her brothers to another King's Arms, which directed them to a third.
The place was deserted, but a weary serving maid was still in the back, sweeping up, and she was able to confirm that they had indeed found Robert Stanley's haunt. Perking up at the sound of his name, she informed them that rumor had it he'd taken off with his love, bound for either St. James or St. Trinity.
"There would be no marriages on Sunday." Kendra's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Perhaps we're not too late. We'll go and warn—"
"Oh, no, we won't," Jason interrupted in a tense, clipped voice that forbade any argument. "There's no sense in chasing out there tonight. The morning will do fine."
"But—"
"Listen, Kendra," he said more gently. "We're as concerned about Amy as you are. But I know that neighborhood—it's no place to visit late on a foggy night. The clergy will have been long since abed, anyway. We'll go first thing in the morning."
Crestfallen, Kendra's enthusiasm evaporated. It had felt so good to be in active pursuit. Still, she knew there was nothing to discuss—Jason made perfect sense. "I want to get there early," she proclaimed. "Before anyone can possibly be married."
"We will. We'll be there when the sun rises."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Ford put a sympathetic arm around Kendra's shoulders and drew her out of the tavern, and she resigned herself to a sleepless night of waiting.
Colin was awakened by a warm, delicate kiss brushed across his mouth. He opened his eyes lazily, gazing up through half-closed lids. In the hazy light of dawn, he saw Amy's face just inches from his, her sweet breath lightly caressing him from between her parted lips.
"Colin, make me forget the feel of his touch," she whispered before lowering her mouth once again to meet his.
How could he resist such a heavenly invitation?
He returned her kiss gently, at first mindful of her bruises. But soon his resolve melted away. Concerns for her battered anatomy and fragile state of mind were pushed aside as his body responded to hers with a will of its own.
Rolling her over slowly, he brushed the hair off her forehead and framed her face with his hands. His eyes searched hers for permission and approval, but what shone from their amethyst depths was such a deep, abiding love that he was momentarily taken aback. His breath caught in his chest, and he blinked, but when he opened his eyes the look was still there.
Unconditional and unfaltering.
Her arms came around his back, and she gifted him with a sweet smile of encouragement. With a soft groan, Colin covered her parted lips with his own. His tongue plundered her warm mouth with reckless abandon until both of them were breathless.
When he broke contact, he could feel her heart beating against his in the still room. He bent to place a kiss in the hollow of her throat and inched one hand down to caress her breast.
She shook her head. "Now," she said, her voice shaky and tremulous. "Come inside me now. Please."
The simple words sent the blood racing through his veins. He'd never heard a more sensuous plea. A man given to leisurely, playful lovemaking, in this case he was only too eager to comply.
He came over her and slid inside her welcoming body with a single swift thrust. Her answering moan of pleasure drove the last lingering thoughts of restraint from his mind, and his body took over, innately establishing the gl
orious tempo that bound the two of them together, body and soul.
She cried out, clutching him, and his heart leapt. In that moment, he knew with a stunning clarity that he'd never give her up again. Nor did he want only part of her.
He had tried to protect his heart—tried and failed. Now it was bursting with love, and he couldn't deny it a moment longer.
He pushed into her again, and the sweet sensation of her convulsing around him sent hot fingers of fire sprinting along his nerves, enveloping his entire body in explosions of pleasure.
A while later, once his heart had slowed, he came up on his elbows and brushed the tangled curls off her face with shaking hands. His lips grazed her eyelids, the warm swath of her forehead, one shell-pink ear. "I love you," he whispered there.
Amy's breath came in uneven gasps. "Wh-what?"
He kissed one downy cheek and the tip of her nose before his tongue flicked her other earlobe. "I love you," he murmured, his voice husky and unsteady.
"No. You cannot. We cannot."
His head snapped up. Did she not want to marry him? "But I saw it in your eyes. I thought you—"'
"I love you, too," she whispered fiercely. Her arms tightened around him, crushing him to her. "I do. It's just—"
"Hush." Colin touched his fingers to her lips. "I've never told a woman that, you know," he admitted with rueful candor. "You've disrupted my entire life, Amethyst Goldsmith."
In contrast to his words, he felt immensely pleased with himself and his world. He kissed her with all the exquisite tenderness he felt in his heart, completely at peace for the first time in months.
"Tell me again," she begged, a smile in her voice.
"I love you," he said simply, and it was easier than he'd ever thought possible.
When he lifted himself off her, sliding from her body, a small sound of loss escaped her lips. "Oh…"
Chuckling, he settled himself beside her and propped his head up on one hand. "I'll be back," he promised, shooting her his best irresistibly devastating grin.
Her response was a hum and a gentle smile, intimate as a kiss. "Don't be too long, said in a seductive whisper, then she blushed, clearly pleased at her own boldness.
To his amazement, Colin's body responded immediately. When he opened his mouth to speak, the words were rough with renewed passion.
"Has it been long enough yet?"
It was still dark and foggy when Kendra and Ford left Jason and a footman at the deserted St. James. She was relieved to confirm they were not too late—at least not at this church.
The bleary-eyed twins traveled on to St. Trinity and were elated to find it empty as well.
They slipped into a back pew to wait, resting their exhausted bodies and chatting quietly. A couple arrived with two witnesses in tow, and then another couple, the woman visibly pregnant. The two groups stood in separate clusters in the back of the sanctuary, shifting nervously on their feet as they waited for their respective ceremonies to commence.
The light grew steadily brighter, passing through the ancient leaded windows and projecting brilliant colored patches on the walls and floor of the church. At last, a door opened at the far end, and a plump curate entered. He bustled about, lighting a few tapers before turning to address the small crowd.
A satisfied smile spread on his face as he viewed the assemblage. "Now, who was here first?"
"We were, Father." Kendra rose, tugging on Ford's hand to pull him up after her and down the narrow aisle.
"Where are your witnesses?" the curate asked as the twins came up before him.
"But—" Ford sputtered, "but she's my sister!"
The man's crooked teeth disappeared as his smile reversed to a stern frown. "Young man, I realize we're known for being, ah, tolerant here at St. Trinity, but the church expressly forbids—"
"Dear heavens!" Kendra's laughter rang through the sanctuary. "We're not here to be wed, Father—we're here to find out if someone else was wed on Saturday. We hope to prevent the marriage if it hasn't already taken place."
"Well, why didn't you just say so?" the clergyman asked peevishly. "Whom are you inquiring about?"
"Amy—Amethyst—Goldsmith and Robert Stanley."
The curate's eyes opened wider. "I declare, I cannot recall the last time there was so much interest in one wedding. Why—"
"Then they're already married?" Kendra's heart seemed to drop to her stomach.
"No. Not to my knowledge." When she sagged in relief, the clergyman smiled. "I believe they were here Saturday evening, however, and yesterday a tall gentleman with dark hair—"
"Our brother," the twins said in unison.
The stout man looked them both over thoughtfully. "Yes, he could have been. In any case, the groom in question planned to return this morning, and your brother went off to search the inns on Fenchurch Street last night."
"Thank you so much." Kendra handed the man a coin.
Her wide smile must have been contagious, because the curate's uneven teeth reappeared, although his gaze was already shifting to the other couples. "Now, who was next?"
Kendra and Ford retreated to the front steps of the church, where they quickly decided Ford would wait inside in case Robert and Amy appeared, while Kendra took the carriage to fetch Jason.
She arrived at St. James to find Jason pacing outside. He strode to the carriage. "What's news?"
"They're not wed." Kendra grinned. "But he plans to wed her today, at St. Trinity. Jason…"
"What?" He climbed inside and pulled the door shut.
"I'm hoping you won't mind, but I asked Carrington to head for Fenchurch Street. The curate said Colin was searching the inns there last night. I'm thinking perhaps he grew tired and slept at one of them." Jason began to protest, but Kendra held up a hand, rushing to finish. "Won't you check a few of the inns, please? I cannot just sit and wait."
"But you said Robert and Amy are due back at the church."
"It's still early. Besides, Ford will see to matters should they arrive."
"There's no arguing with you once your mind is set, is there?" Jason muttered.
For the next half hour, he obligingly walked along Fenchurch, checking a few likely places while the carriage followed at a crawl.
Kendra regretted the detour almost immediately. Waiting in the carriage, she grew more and more impatient as she watched Jason go in and out. She noticed a sign in the window of Mr. Farr's Tobacco Shop, proclaiming it had "The Best Tobacco by Farr." A few shops down there was another sign, that of his rival, "Far Better Tobacco than the Best Tobacco by Farr." She smiled, but mostly she was bored and restless, wondering what was happening back at the church.
Coming out of the seventh inn, Jason stalked to the carriage, his face set in purposeful lines. The door was flung open just as he arrived.
"Kendra, this is—"
"—a waste of time. They may have turned up at St. Trinity by now. And much as I trust Ford to intervene, I'd hate to miss the resulting scene. It ought to be better than Shakespeare."
Worn out as he was, Jason couldn't help but smile. "You're something else, you know that?"
"I'm your sister." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Come along."
Before climbing inside, Jason instructed his coachman to turn around at Mark Lane and head back to St. Trinity. But they'd driven less than two minutes when Kendra started banging on the roof of the carriage. "Stop! Stop!"
"What the devil—"
"That's Ebony! There, in that shed. Colin's here!"
She was down from the carriage before the wheels stopped turning. Jason groaned as he followed her out. "Now, Kendra, not every horse with a white star on his forehead is Ebony."
But it was. Whickering softly as they approached, Ebony bent his big head to search Jason's pockets for a treat.
"Colin must be in there." Kendra indicated a dubious establishment called the Cat and Canary.
"I think not." Jason shook his head. "Colin wouldn't stay in a place like that,
no matter how tired he was."
"Then where?"
He pointed to the back wall of the shed. "Behind there is Leadenhall Street. And a very nice inn, if I'm not mistaken."
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Minutes later, Kendra and Jason were knocking on the door to Number Three at the Rose and Crown. A sleepy, barefoot Colin came to answer, his breeches unlaced, his shirt untucked, his hair in disarray, and a stupid, satisfied smile plastered on his bristled face.
Needing no other evidence to guess she'd find Amy in his bed, Kendra pushed past him. She wasn't sure whether she was thrilled to see Amy sitting up against the pillows, or horrified to see her friend had a quilt clutched under her chin to cover her bareness.
"She's in here, Jason," she shouted.
Jason shoved Colin back and followed him into the room, shutting the door with a little more force than was necessary. "Now you've done it."
Colin's smile was infectious. "I know. I found her. I can scarcely believe it myself." He began tucking in his shirt. "A fine bit of sleuthing, wasn't it? Hey—how did you find us, anyway?"
"That's not what I meant," Jason growled. "Once again, you—"
Shouldering Jason out of the way, Kendra took his place before her obstinate brother. "What he meant is, you'll have to marry her now, you—"
"I fully intend to," Colin said toward the floor as he laced up his breeches.
His words were quiet and matter-of-fact—so much so that Kendra failed to register them.
But Amy did. She let out a small gasp of surprise. Marriage! Colin had said he loved her, but he hadn't mentioned…
No, it would never work. Her stomach felt leaden and her eyes grew misty, but the siblings were too busy with one another to notice.
"Why are you grinning, you idiot?" Kendra railed. "You couldn't just bring her to the town house, could you? Once again, you've—"
Jason shoved Kendra over with his hip and stood beside her, the two of them effectively making a solid wall that obscured Colin from Amy's view. "You've really made a mess of things now, Colin Chase." Usually the calm one, Jason's voice seethed with uncharacteristic rage. "You couldn't leave well enough—"