A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis (30 page)

He exhaled slowly. “Close your eyes, Fanny.”

“If I close my eyes, the room spins.”

Rafe propped a few pillows behind them and tucked
her into his arms. “Better?” Her head nodded against his chest.

He pulled out a drawer in the bedside table and removed a tin of condoms, purchased this morning on his way home from the wire office. Wishful thinking, he supposed, until now. Not that he’d expected something this wonderful to happen in his room, but Fanny was in his bedchamber.

Rafe smiled to himself and pulled her close. Here’s hoping his luck would hold until morning.

JUST SHY OF sunrise, Fanny awoke to pleasant arousal. A pale gray light filtered into the room. Rafe slid his hand along the curve of her belly and pulled her close from behind. His touch was so delicate—so delicious—it sent waves of sleepy, sensuous pleasure through her.
Yes.
She held her breath and waited for his next move.
Please.
His hand reached her breast and cupped.
More.
His thumb lightly stroked the nipple. A sleepy moan escaped.
Mm-mm.
Oh yes, please—she wanted so much more. He kissed her shoulder and moved up the side of her neck. His teeth nibbled an earlobe, sending shivers down her spine.

She purposely turned onto her back. As she turned, his hand slipped down her rib cage, his fingertips brushing a circle around her navel before moving between her legs. She sensed him above her and opened her eyes.

“How lovely to awake and find you in my bed.” His
mouth lowered to her breast and she arched. Circling his tongue, he teased, kissed, and nipped.

“Make love to me.” Her whispered demand caused a hard nipple to pop from his mouth.

A shock of hair fell over his forehead. He answered with a slow smile. “Sure?”

She nodded.

His hand nudged her inner thigh, and she wantonly opened to him. She would give him access to her body—but could she hold on to her heart? Fanny shivered when he parted moist folds and circled delicate flesh. “Oh, yes, Rafe.”

He gently explored her opening. A finger pushed inside, shallow at first and then deeper. All the while his thumb continued to circle the wondrous, swollen part of her. Waves of mysterious desire pulsed through her body, causing her stomach to flutter and her hips to thrust. Inviting him to play—urging for more.

She spoke between breathless moans and sighs. “What is the name of the place you touch to make me moan?”

Rafe swept a trail of kisses across the bridge of her nose. “Mmm, the Latin word is
landīca
.” He appeared to be amused as well as aroused by her curiosity.

“You always were handy with Latin.”

His lips continued down her throat. “I plan on discovering where all your pleasures lie.”

Ignoring the chill of early morning, Fanny pushed the covers off. She wanted to see him look at her again—yes, that look. His eyes narrowed with a kind of hunger that made her tremble. “You are a vision. All peachy flesh and
rosy tips.” He trailed a finger over her nipples and then moved lower. “And no pantalets.” He encouraged her legs to part. His fingers played along the inside curve of her thighs, and a tremble shot through her body. Rafe pressed her back onto the sheets and held her arms while his tongue traveled over breasts and belly. He hesitated before delving deep between her legs. “I must taste you.”

He delved inside her most intimate place using slow, laving strokes. Shocked at first, she stiffened. “Think of nothing but pleasure. My fingers, my lips . . .” He dipped and took a gentle lick. “My tongue.”

Rafe licked. Much to her surprise, she moaned in response, squirming with pleasure. She wanted him to explore every petal and fold, every forbidden place. Each surge of arousal built upon the next until all she could think about was his touch, his kiss—and those fingers that patiently widened and stretched her entrance. She arched back and raised her hips to him.

Rafe could feel that she was ready—more than ready. He reached over her sweet little torso and lifted a tin of rubbers from the top of the side table.

He straddled her belly and his cock jumped in response to her gaze.

“Such a great angry beast.”

His eyes flicked upward, but he also growled. “If you insist, Fanny.” He opened a packet and rolled on the condom. Hovering above, he took a moment to brush a few strands of hair off her face. He gazed at every inch of her body and she arched up to meet him. “No rushing, Fan. I wish your first time to be as pleasurable as possible.”

Her gaze returned his bravely as he poised over her, cock in hand. “Is this the part of pleasure meant to tease—drive me near to madness?” Fanny sighed, her pretty face haloed by a mass of rich brown curls. And her lovely body, plump in all the most wonderful places, lay open and waiting for him. Good God, it was a dream come true, a fantasy long-imagined come alive.

As much as he might try to hold back, Rafe was quite sure this was going to be a quick pleasuring. He would bring her to climax, linger at the apex, then tumble her over the edge. He pushed just inside the moist, warm sex of her, slippery with excitement. She gasped and then slowly opened, stretching to accommodate the girth of him.

“I can stop if you wish.” His voice was husky.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Her head fell back. She drew up her knees, and her warm, tight sheath enveloped him. “Good God, you are heaven.” He withdrew and pushed in, until her body trembled and her hips rocked with his motion. He dipped down, caught a nipple between his lips, and suckled. She arched her back and offered the other.

He continued his slow, deliberate thrusts, and she wrapped her legs around his body. She wanted more. More lips. More tongue. More—Rafe.

He dropped between her legs and, without missing a stroke, brought her with him as he sat back on his haunches. Fanny rode his thighs as he held her quite impaled upon his cock. He cupped her buttocks and guided the thrust of her hips. Her pleasure rose to a new
level as her chest turned rosy pink. “We are so right for each other, Fan.” He pulled out enough to rub
landīca
with the tip of his cock—his own fervor building as he stroked her slippery magical spot. They were both a breath away from release.

A cry escaped her lips and she added a groan.

“We’re going to wake the whole house.” He laughed softly. Pressing his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks, he brought himself deep inside her hot, tight sheath. Fanny arched and quivered and bucked in euphoric throes of pleasure.

Hovering at the brink, Rafe pulled her down for one last thrust, then roared his climax.

He could not speak—not for many seconds. He had tried to be gentle, but the sex had ended in a wild, lusty position. Deep and passionate, but not for beginners.

He admonished himself for being such a brute. He held her, clung to her, for he feared he had hurt her. She was not ready yet for such rough sex. Finally, he managed an apology. “I’m so sorry, love. Things got quite—heated. Are you well enough?”

She leaned back onto the pillows, wearing an expression of divine pleasure. “I am very well, sir.” Her breath was still harsh from exertion. The room was as warm as toast, and the small window by the bed was actually fogged from condensation.

“No pain?”

“Very little, and I came to pleasure with you inside me.”

Rafe smiled. In the pale light of dawn, her skin glowed
with the sheen of
lumière de l’amour.
Her chest rose and fell, nipples relaxed and rounded, opalescent pink in color. He lifted a finger to one tip and watched it respond to his light manipulation.

Fanny rolled onto her side and tucked herself into the niche of his body. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. “Well done, Raphael.”

FANNY LAY IN bed and ran a hand over her belly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. They had made love. Something she had thought about—dreamed about—for years. And she was not disappointed. Far from it.

Her fingers slipped between her legs, where proof of his invasion remained. A slippery translucent substance moistened her fingers. She sat up and tossed the covers back, searching for evidence of her lost innocence. Nothing much to speak of, perhaps a bit of pink on the sheet.

Fanny swung her legs over the side of the bed and her toes brushed the floor carpet. The room tilted back and forth. Her head hurt. Rubbing her eyes, she vaguely remembered Rafe kissing her temple. “Sleep in, darling. I’m off to find Professor Minnow.”

She washed up and dressed, leaving the buttons on her frock for Mrs. Coates downstairs.

“There, now.” The kind woman’s nimble fingers fastened her dress. “By the looks of you, I’d guess a strong cup o’ tea and toast might be just the cure.”

Fanny tugged up a lopsided smile. “A bit green, am I?”
She sat at the kitchen worktable and eyed a pile of carrots. She took up a knife. “Would you like these sliced or diced, Mrs. Coates?”

“Oh dear, never mind the chopping.”

“Even as a child, I enjoyed helping out. At first, cook chased me out, but she gave in when I kept pestering.”

Mrs. Coates placed the tea service on the table. “Dice them up, then—but drink your tea first. I’ll not have you cutting yourself and bleeding all over my kitchen.”

The housekeeper sliced into a loaf of bread. “Young Harry likes to help shuck peas. Such a sweet child, misses his father something terrible when he’s in town.” The woman laid the bread on top of the stove to toast. “We almost lost him as wee ’un. Child was a sickly infant. Mr. Lewis fretted over him so. But the lad pulled through, and will you look at him now?”

Fanny gulped her tea and poured another cup. “Where is Harry?”

“Down the lane and across the dell at the pond—digging up worms. The two of ’em fish off Angel Bridge. They’ve been known to bring back a line of perch a time or two, but I don’t count on it for supper.”

Fanny looked up from her chopping. “Is there a study in the house I might use? I need to write a letter of some urgency.”

“Why, yes, I don’t believe Mr. Lewis would mind. The first door down the hall past the parlor.”

Rafe’s study was small and lined with bookshelves. Pale light from a north-facing window poured over a simple secretary desk. Circling the room, Fanny ran her
fingers over well-worn spines. Familiar names: Haggard, Stevenson, Cooper. Many of his favorite authors were hers as well.

Something Rafe had said in the midst of their harrowing journey had continued to niggle at the back of her mind, something vaguely unsettling about Claire’s letter. Rafe recalled a missive that implied her impending engagement with the Duke of Grafton. Patently absurd, but nonetheless disturbing, for Rafe would not have made up such a thing. In point of fact, he had fully confessed his betrayal of affection and made no excuse for his lack of morals.

She took a seat and opened the top drawer of his desk in search of notepaper. It was true that she and Claire had been writing to Nigel, knowing full well what a gossip he was—every word was bound to reach Rafe. But the letter was meant as a tease, something she and Rafe would laugh over once they returned from the Continent.

Setting aside two letters from Vertiline, she removed a sheet of stationery from the drawer. Dipping pen into inkpot, Fanny scratched out a brief message. She bit her lip. If Claire were back in Edinburgh, a cable would reach her faster. Perhaps she could ask Mrs. Coates to send a wire. Fanny finished her message and reached for a blotter. Finding none, she opened the deep desk drawer.

She spotted the blotter behind several tall stacks of letters. As she lifted one of the bundles she recognized the hand as Rafe’s. The top envelope was addressed to Francine Greyville-Nugent. Fanny’s heart fluttered in
her chest. Gingerly, she fingered the soft twine that held the missives together and pulled the cord.

Sifting through the pile, her fingers trembled. Every one was addressed to her. Fanny swallowed, remembering their argument at the farm.
It’s been nearly five years—you might have written.
She shivered as though he stood beside her this very moment.
I wrote—many times. I just never posted a single letter.
She opened the top envelope on the stack.

June 10, 1885

My dearest Fanny,

How I miss you. I hope this letter finds you well. The gunshot wound to my chest continues to heal without infection. Doctor says I shall soon be fit enough to return to duty. As much as I have enjoyed the company of my toddling son and housekeeper these few weeks, I am also anxious to return to work and the distractions of London.

There were several charming paragraphs about Harry. Apparently Rafe had been keeping a one-sided correspondence with her. Fanny skimmed down.

There is a void in my heart and an empty place in my soul where you will always reside—I shall never find another in all the world like you, nor do I deserve to—

The words blurred, and she had to squint to read his last lines.

Last night I held you in my arms. Heaven. Then I awoke from the dream.

All my love,

Rafe

She allowed herself a brief, quiet weep. It was as much a cry of joy as it was of sorrow. When this nightmare was over, she and Rafe would have a good long talk, make amends, and refer to these days together as their adventure. Fanny wiped away a lagging tear and sighed. They might take up the life they had set aside five years ago, the one that, God willing, still awaited them.

She retied the bundle of letters and put them back into the drawer. If, one day, Rafe wished to show them to her, she would sit down and read each one carefully. Fanny inhaled a deep breath and exhaled a gentle sigh. For now, it was enough to know he had cared enough to write.
Hundreds
, he had said.

She folded her note and returned to the kitchen. “When you get the chance, Mrs. Coates, would you send this off for me—at the wire office?” Fanny smiled and patted the skirt of her dress. “I’m afraid I haven’t a farthing on me.”

The housekeeper pocketed the note. “Don’t worry, miss. I’ll take it out of the household kitty.”

“Thank you.” Fanny took in a deep breath. “I thought I might join Harry for a bit of worm pulling.”