Reckless in Pink

by Lynne Connolly

  After shedding the rest of his clothes and leaving them tossed over a chair, he strode to the bed. By now his erection was blatant, and he displayed it to her with pride, like an animal performing a mating ritual. Except he felt more than that. He could not hold off from telling her any longer.

  She shifted to give him room, but he climbed into bed and dragged her close. “I should never have married you, shouldn’t have admitted the possibility of children.”

  Eyes wide, she stared at him.

  “I should not have waylaid you and kissed you that first night. I shouldn’t have courted you, appeared with you in public, or put you in danger. You know why I did?”

  When she shook her head the gesture was tentative. “No.”

  “Yes, you do.” Unable to maintain his strict expression any longer, he smiled down at her. “Because I love you. I’ve been lost since the moment I saw you. Lost in you, my love. When I first saw you I wanted to care for you, but that is my nature, and it didn’t concern me. It was when I started to dream of you at night, here, in my bed.”

  “Did you…?”

  She paused, but her wicked smile told him what she meant. Had he acted on his desire, here, in his lonely bed? Had he touched himself and thought about her?

  “Yes. Since I first saw you, all my fantasies have been about you. You have no idea how inventive I can get.”

  “I will, though.” She spoke with certainty. “I’ll make you show me.”

  “All of it,” he promised. “I will tell you how much I want you in the most inconvenient places. You’ll have to go to court again, to be presented as my wife. I will not let you do that unless I have you considerably aroused.”

  She gasped, and then laughed. “Then I shall have to work out a way to get my revenge.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  She glanced down, at his chest. Then her brilliant blue eyes met his again. “I love you, too. I wanted you, and I did everything I could to get you.”

  “Yes, you did.” He kissed her properly then, sliding his tongue into her mouth for a full lascivious exchange.

  She held him, made him helpless under the caress of her small hands. As he explored the sweet cavern of her mouth, she slid her fingers down his chest and between their bodies to touch his cock. He jerked, her touch sending tongues of fire through him.

  His kiss turned voracious. As she explored him, her delicate fingers playing him like a fiddle, he took her mouth, her throat, and her breasts. He adored her breasts and told her so, in between sucking and caressing them. Lost in her and in their love, he spread her legs with one less than steady sweep of his hand and ensured her readiness. The heat and wetness between her legs drew him.

  “I want everything at once, like a greedy child presented with a box of candied fruit. You, my love, are the ultimate fruit.”

  “I don’t know if to be happy or insulted,” she said. “Aren’t I a delicate flower, or something of that nature?”

  “You’re a strong, loving woman,” he replied after kissing her thoroughly. “And you’re mine.

  “Yes, I am,” she replied, wriggling to help him get their bodies into alignment.

  He entered her with a deep, thrilling thrust. She surrounded him, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him more securely inside her, demonstrating her state of bliss with a deep sigh.

  They had all the time in the world. As if to prove it, he set a lazy rhythm, giving him time to explore her inside. The sensitive skin of his cock took stock of every part of her inner channel. His. A world for him to explore and never tire of, because he knew that he never would.

  The floodgates opened. He talked to her, told her how very much he loved her, and followed with a litany of endearments, some heartfelt, some funny. When she laughed, her body moved around him in the most delightful way, so he thought up some more.

  “You are my sweet apricot,” he said, pleased with that one. It reflected the glory of her hair, that deep gold with rosy tinges.

  “You are nothing but a bear.” She arched her back, pushing against him, accepting and celebrating their love. “So big.”

  “Dwarfing poor little you?” He paused, grinning, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Her hair truly had a will of its own and never stayed put. He loved that about her. Come to think of it, he couldn’t think of anything he didn’t love about her. “What you lack in size, my darling, you make up for in courage and beauty.”

  She made a scoffing sound at the back of her throat. “I’ve never been a beauty.”

  He punished her with a particularly hard thrust that made her groan low in her throat. “Does this feel as if I don’t think you’re beautiful? My love, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’ll kill any man who disagrees with me.”

  He put paid to any saucy response by increasing and deepening his drives into her lush body. This time he didn’t relent until she cried his name and clung to him as her body trembled with the force of her orgasm.

  This time when he came, he gave himself wholly to the experience, giving his body and soul into her care. She accepted him, enclosed him in her body, her arms and legs wrapped around him.

  Oblivion beckoned, and he willingly gave into it.

  They awoke at dawn, light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. The candles had guttered out long ago, but enough light remained for him to see her face. He traced a finger down her cheek and across her mouth, smiling when she growled and then opened her eyes, blinking owlishly at him. The sheet had made a crease down one side of her face. He kissed it.

  “You slept soundly.”

  “So did you.” She made a face. “You snore.”

  “It’s manly.”

  “It’s loud.” She grinned. “I think I can accustom myself to it. My love.”

  “Sweetheart.” He kissed her, playing with her tongue, but gently. “You must still be tired. It’s barely dawn.”

  “Why are you awake, then?” Sleepily she curled her hand behind his head.

  “I used to wake at this time every day. I still wake from habit. Usually I turn over and go back to sleep, but you’re here, and you’re a devilish distraction, wife.”

  “Should I use another room to sleep in?”

  He loved her drowsiness. “If you do, I’ll only join you.” He stroked her warm body and came back to cup her breasts. “Do you need anything? We ordered supper served next door. There should be something there if you’re hungry.”

  She shook her head. “How can an evening that started so badly end so well?”

  “I don’t know.” Reminded of the attack, his mind sobered. “We aren’t out of this yet. I want to send you to the country.”

  Predictably, she said, “No.” She touched his face and cupped his chin, rasping her palm against the stubble. “I promise not to take risks. I can’t molder in the country, Dominic, not knowing what is happening.”

  “Very well.” He would have missed her unbearably, but it would have been worth it to keep her safe. “Then if I promise to keep you informed, please promise to stay in the house and only receive the people you know well. No levees, receptions, or anything of the kind. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You don’t have to.” She smiled softly. “All I want is you to be safe. I can promise that. I know the difference between reckless and stupid, although my family might tell you otherwise.”

  He grinned. “One or two expressed astonishment at my bravery, as some put it, at our wedding. They don’t know the secret to controlling you.”

  The crease between her brows appeared right on cue. “Tell me how you control me.”

  “Simple. I don’t. I talk to you. Love you.”

  The frown disappeared as he leaned over to kiss her.

  The next day, after a distressing visit to the parents of the dead footman, Dominic headed for Horse Guards. Although General Court’s assistant tried very hard to keep him at bay, Dominic ended the discussion by walking past hi
m and straight into the office.

  He closed the doors quietly behind him. He detested door slammers. “Why wouldn’t you let me in?”

  The general looked up from the papers he was signing. “I’m busy.” His thick brows drew together. “What is so important that it cannot keep? I have more than one affair of state to deal with.”

  “Thankfully I do not,” Dominic said. Without being asked, he took a seat on the chair before the huge mahogany desk. “You asked me to do you a favor, sir. I am still doing it, and yesterday it nearly cost me my life.”

  “Yes, I heard.” Finally the general put down his pen, placing it carefully in the brass standish. Folding his hands across his expansive stomach, he leaned back in his chair. “I take it you were getting too close?”

  “You may also have heard that I married recently.”

  General Court nodded. “Ah, yes, congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” The man was a complete boor. He was immaculately turned-out, red braided coat and cream waistcoat with gold buttons perfectly clean and uncreased. Underneath lay a man with the sensibilities of a pig. Although useful on the battlefield, the general was a liability in civilian life.

  “Then you might be aware that my wife was in the carriage with me. In addition, the weapon used was a bomb. To my eyes, it appeared much like the explosive devices I’ve seen before, although I only caught a glance of it. If I had not recognized it, we would have died.”

  The general gazed at him, and his eyes lost their faraway look. He touched the papers on his desk. “Know what these are? We’re close to war, St. Just. So close I can taste it. I have no intention of allowing it to happen, not yet. We need time. Your fracas yesterday brought the possibility a touch closer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir, but there was very little I could do about it. The attackers meant to create a scene, and they did. If my wife’s cousin were not living nearby, we’d have created more of a scene.”

  “Don’t you think that is odd?”

  “What?” What could he be inferring?

  “That the house of the Earl of Winterton was nearby.” The General grunted. “Winterton is what they like to call an Emperor. Although they declare themselves loyalists, they are so powerful they rival the Pelhams. To be frank, sir, they are distrusted in some quarters.”

  Dominic could hardly believe what he was hearing, but he would not contradict the man directly. Why create enemies when they had perfectly good ones for the taking? “I am part of that family now,” he gently pointed out.

  “Yes, you are.”

  He tried to move on. “What about Stuart? The Young Pretender?”

  “That’s part of what I wished to discuss with you. I would have sent for you later today.”

  Dominic raised a brow, but he didn’t correct Court’s arrogance. The man wouldn’t understand anyway. He lived in his own world with his own points of reference. “Then speak.”

  The general studied him, his eyes cold. An assessment. Dominic had been through worse.

  “We have the affair of Stuart in hand. We’re close to an arrest, and then we will bring him to trial. Another matter has come to our notice that might make the affair less important. Have you heard of a woman called Maria Rubio?”

  He hated lying. Detested it. “No.”

  “We discovered a paper in one of the Young Pretender’s haunts with her name on it and the name of the Earl of Winterton. Yes, you may wonder. It occurred to us that Winterton could be playing the game from both sides. The Jacobites love a plot, and that strategy would appeal to them.”

  “May I see the paper?”

  The general drew out a worn sheet of plain notepaper from the stack of documents on his desk and handed it over. He found the note very easily, just as if he’d put it ready. It was merely a list of names. Notes and small designs decorated the margins. An informal list.

  “These could be people the Pretender considered enemies.” It meant nothing.

  It would be surprising had the Young Pretender not come across Maria’s name sometime in his life, as she had been close to his father. Closer than he might know. It was no proof. Except—something nagged at the back of his mind. He needed to think.

  The other names meant nothing to him, but he memorized them anyway. “I have no idea what this list means, sir, but it’s hardly conclusive proof. May I keep it?”

  “Certainly not. It’s government property.”

  Reluctantly, Dominic returned the note. The handwriting might have proved useful, but he had the names now. “What is your point, sir?”

  “Now you are a member of the family, one of the Emperors”—the General spoke as if the word were a curse—“you may keep an eye on them for us. Report back from time to time. Tell us what they are up to. Do not forget, you are a loyal officer of the Crown, and that supersedes anything else.”

  “You want me to spy on them, in fact?”

  Most other people would have been warned by his smooth, silky tones, but General Court ploughed on regardless. “We consider it your duty.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “The people closest to the Crown. In fact, so close you could not put a breath of air between them.”

  Which did not mean the current administration. Dominic had his suspicions. However, he had matters of his own to pursue. “Do you have any idea who might have thrown the explosives into our carriage yesterday?”

  For the first time, the general looked away. He straightened his papers, lifting them and rapping the edges against his desk. “I do not. Not for certain. It could have been anybody with a rudimentary knowledge of weaponry.”

  “It looked somewhat like a mine. The kind we used to fire at the enemy.”

  “For an officer, you have too vivid an imagination. Perhaps that is why we recruited you for the service.”

  From the shifty way the general refused to look at him directly and the way he shuffled his papers and shifted, Dominic knew. The general was dissimulating, and not very well. “Can you tell me who wielded that weapon?”

  General Court passed his hand over his eyes, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he looked very weary. “We have been following someone for the last week, yes. We now have the man in custody. He was a disaffected recruit, someone who took the King’s shilling and later regretted it. He took someone else’s shilling, too. I very much fear that the man was a known traitor and one we were following when he committed the crime. We have arrested him and we will ensure he never sees these shores again.”

  And they wouldn’t have told him unless he’d pressed the point. They would have allowed him to go on fruitless chases after the man. To distract him from other pursuits, probably.

  Frankly, Dominic didn’t care if the man was alive or dead. “Why were you following him?”

  “Because he was working with Stuart.”

  That was all Dominic wanted to know. He got to his feet. “I bid you good day, General. I do not scruple to tell you that I will not spy on my family for the Crown or anyone else. The Crown should be ashamed of itself. I had not thought it that desperate, to ask the despicable crime of lying to people who hold you in a position of trust.”

  His position became clear. No one asking that of him deserved his loyalty. His only desire now was to reduce the possibility of death and destruction, the inevitable consequences of war. A civil war would be worse. A century ago, this country had faced the bloodiest conflict in its history. He would not risk that again, and he would not help anyone who was willing to risk it.

  This man would call it “The greater good” and proselytize about the necessity of politics, the reality of life. Dominic had heard it all before, and it impressed him even less than it did now. He left the office, his mind made up. Perhaps he’d left it for the last time.

  He walked to Julius’s house and made his plans while doing so. With his new aims firmly in mind, the rest fell into place and he would not hesitate to act now.

  Julius was in and recei
ved him upstairs in the drawing room. Dominic halted at the door, transfixed by this new vision of the haughty Lord Winterton.

  The elegant furniture and fine carpets seemed no bar to Julius’s lively daughter. She and her father sprawled on the floor, working with chalks on a large piece of paper. Julius glanced up. “I trust you don’t mind receiving me this way. After all, you’re family now.”

  That encomium meant far more to Dominic than anything he’d received recently. Apart, of course, from Claudia’s praise.

  With a new sense of purpose, he smiled and pulled off his coat, adding it to the chair where Julius’s was carelessly slung. He was amused to notice Julius’s wig, dangling from one arm of the chair. “What is the picture?” He walked around so he could see it. “A gown.”

  “Caroline is considering becoming a mantua-maker when she grows up.” Julius glanced up with a smile. “What do you think?”

  “I think it will create a sensation in the ballrooms.” Anything that was orange and lemons, with huge oranges sewn on to the garment would do that.

  “They’re real oranges,” Caroline declared, adding a vine. “Papa says there’s always a crush around the refreshment tables at balls, and this way a lady could carry her own refreshment.”

  “She’d still need a fruit knife,” Dominic said, completely enthralled by the idea.

  “She can carry one, like the ones Papa has in his pockets.”

  Julius rolled on to his back, grabbed his daughter by her waist, and swung her high. She kicked, her lacy petticoats frothing around her and laughed.

  He rolled to the other side and carefully deposited her before getting to his feet. “Go now, puss. You have real lessons waiting for you upstairs.”

  Caroline’s lower lip turned down in a pout. Her father raised a brow, but said nothing.

  Hastily she gathered up her chalks, put them in their box and ran to the door. “You may keep the drawing,” she said. “I have lots of other ideas.”

  Julius dug in his breeches’ pocket for a handkerchief and wiped his fingers free of chalk before offering a hand for Dominic to shake. “Any developments?”