“What of it?” she said. “I married Haddington to become a countess, and I thought, a wealthy one. I never dreamed that he would be such a tight-fisted old cock o’ the walk. Until we have the wealth that those girls will inherit, he’ll give me nothing. We are doing what must be done to save the earldom. Now Catharine is engaged, Sara is soon to be, and Abygail will land for us the biggest fish in the ocean that is London without ever knowing how hard I worked to bait the hook.”
“What else did you bait the hook with?”
“You go too far, Captain,” Oona spat out at him. “I saw how you were looking at her out there. Let me just tell you right, now, you cannot have her. You might be blessed with some level of wealth, but you’re a third son. It will be Aylesbury for Abygail and no other.”
“So, you would ruin her life as you did Jack’s?”
“I didn’t ruin Jack’s life. He ruined it himself.”
“Only by refusing to sleep with you,” Richard responded with deadly softness. “Ah, you think he’s never told another the truth? This is naught but your revenge upon him for denying you.”
Oona was nearly choking on her anger. Her face was tight and an unbecoming shade of red as she threw herself at him, hitting him with her fists and kicking at him in her anger. “Every man wanted me. I could have had any of them.”
A knock sounded at the door and Oona snapped for the intruder to enter.
“Begging your pardon, my lady,” said the red-faced maid who had clearly been privileged to hear Oona’s declaration while standing at the door. “Lady Sara is asking for your presence. I can show you where she’s been put, if you like.”
“What happened?”
“It seems she managed to upset the refreshment table, spilling the punch down her dress, my lady.”
With an aggrieved shriek, Oona strode to the door.
“No more, Lady Haddington,” Richard demanded one last time. “Leave Abby be.”
Oona swung back with a snarl. “I’ll see your precious Abby to hell if I like.”
Chapter 27
I am not an angel,’ I asserted, ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me—for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you; which I do not at all anticipate.
~ Charlotte Bronte from Jane Eyre
14 Cavendish Square, London
That Night
With a grimace, Richard shrugged out of his jacket as he undressed for bed that evening. That bloody harridan had managed to land a few blows to his still tender wound that afternoon during her rant. The encounter had done little of benefit, and he winced for a different reason. He could only hope that he hadn’t made life even more difficult for Abby. Even with all the stories he’d heard about her stepmother, he’d never imagined that Oona Merrill could be such a vicious harpy.
He’d tried to find Abby afterward, but she’d been nowhere in sight. Though he tried to convince himself that he only wanted to warn her, he knew he was a fool to even think so. He wanted to see her smile, feel her in his arms once again. To kiss her and hear her whisper his name as softly as she had a few days ago.
“Richard Keeley MacKintosh!”
Richard froze, his shirt half over his head. No, that wasn’t the tone he had imagined at all.
“I want a word with you.”
That stern, lecturing voice was one he’d heard a thousand times but never had Richard imagined hearing it in his own bedchamber or so late in the evening. Removing the shirt, he looked with some disbelief at the angel who stood just inside his chamber door with her hair loose and hands firmly planted on her rounded hips…or at least they must be, given the way her dark cloak tented about her. This wasn’t the soft, compliant lass he’d last met but rather the one who had berated her brother so soundly on her grandmother’s terrace a week past.
Pushing aside the compulsion to brace himself for more, he jumped in first. “Abby! Sweet Jesus, angel, I need to have more than a word with you, if my eyes and ears aren’t deceiving me. What are you doing sneaking about this house at night? Does Jack know you’re here?”
“Never mind what I’m about,” she responded, becoming more an avenging angel as she swooped in his direction, her hair streaming in loose curls over her shoulders. He hadn’t seen her hair down since she was a child, however she looked not at all childish but womanly, heavenly. Tempting. He almost didn’t hear her next words. “I came here to tell you that I know what you are about, and I will not have it!”
“Truly?” he asked, distracted by both her display and her ire. Though she sounded as if she were scolding, Richard suddenly found her rage incredibly erotic. Her face was with flushed with color; her vivid eyes alive with emotion. All he could hear was his body’s call to take her in his arms. His palms itched to touch her, but he restrained himself, asking, “Pray tell, what am I about that has you in such a state?”
“I know what you’re after, Richard. I know it just as I knew it five years ago and I’ll not let it happen again!”
Five years ago? Distraction fled in the face of confusion.
“What are you talking about?”
“When I went to Ascot, all those years ago, looking for you.”
Richard looked so confused that in that moment, Abby knew that Jack had never breathed a word about why she had gone to Ascot to Richard. Loyal brother that he was, she should’ve known he would never have embarrassed her with that bit of information.
Now it was left for her to explain. “I went there to find you and tell you…never mind that. But I saw you there with that woman, I saw you leave with her. I knew what you were doing. I know enough about men to understand their needs and you said just yesterday that you were a-a-aching with desire. A-and I know how Oona is.”
Richard just blinked blankly at her, as if he didn’t know what to make of her rant. “I saw you leave the garden party today with Oona.”
It took him a moment to weave through her ramblings, but his expression cleared after a moment. “You thought I was going to shag Oona?”
The words sounded accusatory, but she nodded. “I won’t have it, Richard.”
A myriad of expressions crossed his face, many that she couldn’t recognize but she did know it was amusement that ended it all. Amusement that nearly had her seeing red. He thought this was funny? She’d been in a mood all afternoon on his account, wondering what he was about. And that, after she had ranted at her father like a fishwife for him, something she never would have dared if it hadn’t been for Richard—not only for his cause, but because of his faith in her. She loved him, potentially sacrificed herself for him, and he thought it all so amusing enough to destroy that faith in moments? Abby’s hands balled into fists at her sides.
“But as you said, I was aching with desire,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “For you, I might add. So, it’s rather your fault then if I need relief, isn’t it?”
“If you need such desperate relief, Richard MacKintosh, I’ll be the one to give it to you, not the likes of my stepmother.
“Oh, will you now?” Richard responded with interest clear in his voice.
“Y-yes, I will!” she returned, though her hesitation made it clear she only just realized what she was declaring aloud so brazenly. It was one thing to create a bold plan, but it was apparently another to voice that plan aloud. Confidence fled, leaving her voice trembling with uncertainty. “Oh, Richard! You don’t truly want her, do you?”
“Angel, what a little fool you are.”
His laughter was enough to send the anger burning through Abby once more. She wasn’t certain whether he was calling her a fool for coming here, declaring her intentions so boldly, or both. Sneaking into his bedchamber was the most forward thing she’d ever done. It trumped any and all of her pranks from her boarding school days. She knew that and didn’t need Richard to provide any additional lecture on the matter.
What she needed was some assurance
that he hadn’t already bedded her stepmother. The thought had plagued at her all afternoon. She’d spent hours wavering between anger and tears. Between faith in him and the uncertainty that had been her companion in recent years.
“Damn you!” Abby threw her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself up against him, commanding with her nose just inches from his, “Tell me you didn’t do anything.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he repeated so automatically that her temper was pushed to the point of desperation.
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I appreciate seeing how far you’d go to get to the truth when you want it, however. You have my assurances that I didn’t lay a finger on her.”
“You didn’t? Not one?” She asked with surprise, while again the irritation ebbed. As did her desperate grip on him. She eased back to the floor though she didn’t release him. She was becoming very aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. That her arms were, in fact, wrapped about his naked torso.
“Not one, though I ought to apply all five to your bottom just for being here,” he scolded, though her hands exploring his bared chest robbed the words of their heat. “Tell me, how did you get in here?”
“Francis had given me his calling card, remember? Though I had to bribe my way inside at quite a steep price,” she admitted sheepishly, though her hands were more bold, caressing his upper arms and measuring the bulge of his biceps against the span of her hand. “Glenrothes’ servants are really quite loyal.”
“Not loyal enough, it seems.” He captured her hands in his to stop their roaming. “No one saw you, I hope?”
“No one.”
“Good, then let’s get you home.”
Abby’s jaw sagged in astonishment. Her hands tightened in his as if that could hold him in place.
“Home? No, Richard. I don’t want to go back home,” she insisted, her eyes roving his bare chest with appreciation. “I came here to…I mean, I wanted to…”
“Wanted to what?”
Embarrassment rose with a hot flush, but she regained freedom of her hands and skimmed them up his bare chest once more. The muscles bunched and tensed beneath her hand. Emboldened, she smoothed her palms across his ribs and around his back.
“Richard,” she whispered huskily. “You must know why I’m here.”
“And that’s why you must leave,” he answered, but the conviction fled his voice when her hand dipped over his hard buttock. “I swore to Jack I would not seduce you.”
“You aren’t,” she assured him with a sultry smile. “I’m seducing you.”
She unfastened her cloak at the neck and shrugged it off her shoulders.
Richard looked down and could hardly swallow back the lump in his throat. She was covered from neck to toe in a white linen blouse and green lawn skirt. But it was also very clear that she was very naked beneath the thin garments. Even in the dim light, he could see the outline of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric, the darker nipples. He should have known the moment she walked into the room that it would end this way. Her presence, her jealous rant…even her anger and lecture, had aroused him beyond belief.
While he knew he should send her away again, it had taken all his resolve and will power to do it the first time. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to do it again.
He wanted her. Wanted those breasts filling his palms, wanted her body beneath his. He wanted to lose himself in her. Forget everything but her.
“Abby…” he groaned, fighting his surrender.
“Richard,” she cooed softly.
He could hear the smile behind the words. The confidence. Even while she tortured him, it pleased him to hear her sounding so sure of herself. This was his Abby, brazen lass cum bold temptress. She was certain of her beauty now, sure of her allure—at least with him—and she was going to use it to push him over the edge. Push him into doing something that he knew was wrong.
He also knew it would be so completely right to take her, to make her his so that no other might ever have her. The part of him that was left of his conquering ancestors agreed and Richard felt his blood pump hotly. He could see Abby’s skin grow pink with a blush beneath her white blouse as he continued to stare down at her. His silence must have emboldened her even further, because though her fingers trembled slightly, she reached up to work the buttons at her neck. She unfastened them one by one until the hollow at the bottom of her throat was exposed, her collarbone…then just the swell of her breast.
Richard hooked a finger into the opening, stopping her progress. His blood was roaring in his ears, pounding through his veins. “You should run away, angel.”
“I am done running, Richard,” she said, boldly meeting his eye.
“So be it,” he growled and pulled downward, popping the remainder of the buttons.
Chapter 28
You pierce my soul.
I am half-agony, half hope…
I have loved none but you.
~ Jane Austen from Persuasion
Abby gasped, not with fright, but excitement, as Richard ripped her blouse open, baring her to the waist. Here was her wild Scot, bare chested as he’d been that last summer she’d seen him in Deal. This was the lad who had led her all her life from one adventure to the next. This adventure would be the greatest of them all, but she’d known she would have to be the one to lead him this time, perhaps push him farther than he might choose. And she had. If her father succeeded in delivering upon her blackmail, she would always have this moment to remember.
A night with the man she loved with all her heart.
She gasped again when his rough hand reached inside her shirt and cupped her bare breast.
“Angel,” he growled low in his throat and she looked up at him in wonder. “I went with Oona letting her believe that she was seducing me only so that I might have her alone to give her a piece of my mind for her treatment of you these past years. I feared for my life when she discovered the truth of it, but I had my say, for you and for Jack. That was all. No woman can compare to you, my love. No other woman could ever ease this ache, this pain of wanting you as I do. Only you, angel. I want only you.”
His muted green eyes were as dark as a forest under a smuggler’s moon, his face tense, his brow furrowed. She knew now that it wasn’t a look of anger, but desire contained. Restrained. Tonight, Abby wanted to hold nothing back. She wanted to feel the full force of his passion. All of it.
“Make love to me, Richard,” she whispered, pleadingly. “I ache for you as well.”
“Then God save us both,” he replied before cupping the back of her head in his large palm and drawing her up to meet his lips as they descended over hers.
He lifted her off her feet, pulling her up and against him tightly until Abby could feel his heart pounding against hers. Parting her lips, she invited him to show her more and he did, sweeping his tongue across hers, tickling her lips and leaving an erotic tingle in its wake.
Instinctively, Abby wrapped first one leg and then the other around him as his hand came up to guide it there. His palm smoothed up her leg under her skirts to cup her bare bottom before a painful groan escaped him.
“No stockings? No pantalets, angel?”
“I wanted to make this easy for you,” she told him. “I was prepared to strip completely if that’s what it took to convince you.”
Richard froze, his arms like steel bands about her. He drew back until he could see her face and Abby’s heart skipped a beat at the passion burning darkly in his eyes. “Convince me.”
It skipped another before she loosened her legs and slid to the ground. Locking her gaze with his, she unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the ground before shrugging her torn blouse from her shoulders. Her entire body was trembling, though she wasn’t certain whether it was fear or excitement that caused it. Richard’s eyes shifted downward then, lingering on her breasts. Her heart was racing like a locomotive, her breath mere pants. Suddenly nerv
ous, she ran a shaking palm down her hip, feeling the ridged outline of the scars there as his eyes continued down her body.
“Richard…”
Falling to his knees before her, his eyes level with her chest. Richard’s hands came up to cup her breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth. Abby gasped as he circled the tip with his tongue before suckling deeply. Wrapping her arms around his head, she urged him on, her head falling back as fiery heat raced through her. After a moment, his attention shifted to the other breast briefly before his lips moved to the underside of her breast, across her ribs and down her belly.
Just when she was certain that her shaking legs would collapse, he wrapped his arms about her hips and stood, lifting her with him. His mouth devoured hers once more as he carried her to his bed, lowering them both slowly downward. His hands roamed urgently over her body as if he wanted to touch every part of her at the same time.
Through lowered lashes, she snuck a glance at his face. His eyes were closed, his face taunt. He looked more beautiful in that moment than she’d ever seen him. She ran her hands over his broad shoulder, watching her small white hands skim over his dark skin. She watched his rough, browned hands cup her pale breast, span the width of her belly before disappearing between her legs.
Abby’s eyes fluttered closed once more as his fingers found her core. She could feel the wetness there and flushed with embarrassment, but Richard groaned deeply, a purely animalistic growl of pleasure. A shudder racked his body even as he plunged his finger into her body. His finger curled within her and she clenched her thighs about his hand as rapture streaked through her. She had always known that it would be like this with him. Soaring. Seeking. Still it was so much more as well, so much more than she had ever imagined it might be. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, massaging them in wordless encouragement as she whimpered helplessly.
All You Could Ask For Page 16