Andrea Kane (13 page)

“Then let me give you something else to dream about,” he murmured, covering her lips with his. “Let me …”

What was it that happened when he held this woman? he wondered dazedly. It was as if nothing existed outside the magic they made when she was in his arms. All he wanted was more: to hold her closer, to taste her more fully, to possess her more completely.

Reason be damned.

Beginning as pure fire, the kiss exploded into streamers of white-hot sensation. Rem pressed Samantha back onto the carriage seat, following her down, his lips already leaving hers to caress her throat, her neck, her shoulders. Sammy arched, breathing his name, and Rem’s fingers dug into the sleeves of her gown, dragging them down her arms to give him access to the upper swell of her breasts. He could feel the pounding of her heart, the harsh little sounds of pleasure she made.

“You’re so bloody beautiful,” he rasped, his hands gliding around to cup her breasts through the fine material of her gown. “So impossibly, irresistibly beautiful.”

Sammy whimpered, her breasts swelling at his touch. His thumbs brushed ever so lightly across her nipples, feeling them harden instantly at the fleeting caress. The urge to see, touch, taste her exquisitely responsive flesh, was almost more than he could bear. But he couldn’t, not in a carriage with the entire
ton
frolicking about them.

He settled for a far less satisfying substitute. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her through her gown, tugging lightly at her nipples with his teeth.

Sammy’s reaction nearly undid him. She cried out in undisguised pleasure, drawing his head closer, more intimately, against her.

“Christ, Samantha, stop.” Rem was barely able to breath, let alone think. “If you don’t, I’m going to lose all control.”

“And what would happen then?” Sammy asked breathlessly, gazing up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“I’d do something we’d both regret.”

“Would we?”

“You, imp, are playing with fire.” Rem pressed his lips to the pulse at her throat.

“I’m not playing at all.”

“We’re in the middle of Hyde Park, sweetheart.” He kissed her again, deeply. “It’s not the time.”

“When will it be the time?”

Their gazes locked.

“Samantha … you’re a beautiful, enchanting young woman.”

“But I’m not proficient enough for you.” Sadly, Sammy drew herself upright, adjusting her bodice and smoothing her hair.

“Proficiency isn’t the issue. The fact is, a quick tumble in my carriage is beneath you. You deserve everything a woman dreams of: flowers … wine … firelight … music … long hours of preparation …” His mouth snapped shut as he realized how his own words were affecting him.

“It sounds like heaven,” Sammy whispered, her face flushed with the picture Rem had conjured up. “When can it be?”

God, he wanted to take her to bed. “On your wedding night, imp. With a man you have yet to meet—the man who will be your husband.” Seeing Sammy’s anguished expression, feeling the insistent throbbing in his loins, Rem decided that he was a saint. “Samantha, love …” He cupped her face. “You deserve it all—commitment, a husband, a family.”

“A hero?” She tilted her head back, studying him with those mesmerizing jade-green eyes.

“Yes … a hero.”

“I’ve found him.”

Why the hell did he want to be all that she believed he was?

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not a hero.”

“Are you deterred by my inexperience?”

He sucked in his breath. “To some extent … yes.”

“Fine.” Her small chin set, Sammy folded her hands purposefully in her lap. “That obstacle is easily remedied. I’ll make certain to gain some experience at once. The Viscount Anders is calling on me tomorrow; I’ll begin with him. In no time at all, I’ll be able—”

“Over my dead body!” Rem couldn’t believe the vehemence of his reply, or the cold fury that rose in his chest at the thought of her in another man’s arms—least of all a charming viper like Anders.

Sammy seemed sincerely startled. “Whyever not? You just said—”

“I said you should save your innocence for your husband. Not hand it over to an unworthy cad who’ll toss you aside the moment he’s had his way with you.”

“But I
want
to be tossed aside. I have no aspirations to wed Stephen.”

“Stephen?”
Again, that surprising surge of jealousy. “If he lays a hand on you, I’ll kill him.”

A dazzling smile illuminated Sammy’s face. “Yet another rescue. How can you deny your heroism?”

“Tell me about Barrett Shipping.” Hearing himself blurt out the question, Rem was horrified. When had he
ever
approached a covert subject with so little finesse?

“Barrett Shipping?” Sammy blinked. “I assume you feel, the need to change the subject, Remington.”

Without meaning to, Samantha had provided him with a logical motive for his sloppy tactics. “I think a change in subject is definitely in order, imp.”

“What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Is your brother abandoning his trips to sea until the cause of the disappearances have been determined?”

Sammy averted her head, staring out the window. “I don’t know.”

“You’re worried about him.”

“Of course I am. If anything ever happened to Drake, I’d die.”

Rem took her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Samantha.”

“It’s not just Drake. It’s the whole situation. So many needless deaths. So few avenues to explore. Perhaps the Viscount Goddfrey could explain—” Abruptly, she stopped.

“What did you say?”

“Only that so many men have died.” Sammy twisted her fingers nervously in the fabric of her gown.

“What made you mention Goddfrey?”

“I—I heard that he’d lost a large crew with his last ship.”

What the hell wasn’t she saying? Rem needed to know.

“Samantha …”

“I’d like to go home now, my lord.”

She was as transparent as glass. “All right,” Rem replied, wisely electing to bide his time. “May I take you to the opera tomorrow?”

Sammy chewed her lip in distressed indecision. “I promised Stephen …”

“Get rid of him.” Rem lightly stroked her palm with his thumb. “Let him call on you in the afternoon. Then come to Covent Garden Theater with me in the evening.”

“All right.”

“And Samantha—I meant what I said. If Anders touches you—”

“Like this?” she murmured. Without warning, she slid closer, leaned up and kissed him.

“No,” Rem replied huskily. “Like this.” He crushed her against him, buried his lips in hers and kissed her until they were both breathless.

Long minutes later Rem tore himself away. “I’d better take you home now, my lovely lady. Else I’ll forget every good intention I ever possessed.”

“I look forward to that day, my lord.” Sammy smiled. “In fact, I can hardly wait.”

F
INDING SMITTY WAS INFINITELY
easier than Sammy expected.

He was standing in the front hallway, glowering like an angry lion, when she entered the Town house at twilight.

“Oh, Smitty! I’m glad you’re here. I looked for you at noontime, but you weren’t—”

“My lady, we need to talk,” he interrupted.

Sammy’s eyes widened in surprise. It was rare that Smitty spoke to her in so harsh a tone. “Of course. What is it?”

“I think we should adjourn to the library,” he replied stiffly.

“Very well.” She proceeded him down the hall, wondering what on earth this was about. Once inside the library, she turned. “You seem upset.”

“I am.”

A sudden chill ran down Sammy’s spine. “It isn’t Alex … or the baby … ?”

“No, my lady.” Smitty shook his head at once. “I received a message from His Grace today. All is well; the doctor and midwife agree that the new babe should be making an appearance by next week’s end.”

“Thank goodness.” Visibly, she relaxed. “Then what is it?”

Smitty cleared his throat with rough unease. “This is extremely difficult for me, Lady Samantha. I’ve known you since you came into this world, and care for you as if you were my own.”

A fond smile touched Sammy’s lips. “I feel the same way about you, Smitty—you’re a member of our family.”

“Thank you. And I apologize in advance for my impertinence.”

“You are never impertinent, Smitty.” Sammy grinned.

Her grin was not returned. “When His Grace realized he couldn’t be in London this Season, he entrusted you into my care …” Smitty met Sammy’s gaze. “I take that responsibility very seriously.”

“I know you do,”

“Then I must interfere in a way I customarily would not.”

“Very well.”

“To be blunt, I understand you went riding with the Earl of Gresham this evening.”

“My goodness, news travels quickly!” Sammy laughed. “I only just arrived home. But yes, I rode through Hyde Park with Remington.”

“I don’t think the earl is proper company for you, my lady.”

“Why not?”

An uncomfortable pause. “You’re very young, Lady Samantha, and very naive about … certain things. The earl has a reputation that is—in polite terms—scandalous, making it ill-advised for a well-bred woman such as yourself to keep company with him. I don’t expect you to fully understand what I am saying, however—”

“Oh, I understand,” Sammy assured him brightly. “Remington spends a good portion of his time charming women, and the rest of his time bedding those he has charmed. Isn’t that right?”

Smitty’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m touched by your concern, truly I am.” Sammy squeezed Smitty’s arm. “But your request that I stop seeing Remington would be quite impossible for me to honor.”

“And why is that?” Smitty’s voice sounded strangled.

“Because, as I told you, I plan to wed him.” She watched in dismay as Smitty sagged against the wall. “Of course, first I’ll reform his rakish ways. Please don’t worry, Smitty. Remington has exercised”—she frowned, perplexed by the truth of her own revelation—“inordinate self-restraint with me.”

Taking pity on Smitty’s ashen expression, Sammy curbed her own speculations and attempted to soften the blow. “In the interim, Viscount Anders will be calling tomorrow. So I’m acquainting myself with many eligible gentlemen … at least until Remington comes to his senses and proposes. All right?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. “I was wondering if you recall a gentleman named Goddfrey who does business with Drake?”

“Pardon me?” The abrupt change in subject was too much for Smitty to absorb. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock of Samantha’s proclamation.

“Goddfrey. Does that name sound familiar?”

“Uh … yes, my lady.” Smitty shook his head to clear it. “The Viscount Goddfrey owns a fairly substantial shipping company in London. He’s purchased quite a few ships from your brother over the past years. Why do you ask?”

Sammy tried to look casual. “Oh, because last night at Almack’s I overheard some gentlemen discussing the fact that several of the viscount’s vessels had been lost. …I was hoping Barrett Shipping hadn’t constructed them.”

“I don’t believe so, my lady.”

“The gentlemen also mentioned that Viscount Goddfrey had bolted.”

“Idle gossip, I’m certain.” Smitty sounded equally as uncomfortable with this subject as he had with the previous one. “If I were you, I shouldn’t waste my time on business matters, Lady Samantha. Nor on the Earl of Gresham,” he repeated emphatically, bringing the conversation back to its original topic. “Your great aunt will undoubtedly introduce you to many suitable escorts during the Season.”

“Actually, Aunt Gertie was quite taken with Remington,” Sammy replied, a twinkle in her eye.

“Perhaps she hasn’t heard of his reputation.”

“That’s very likely. Aunt Gertie hasn’t
heard
anything for years now.” Sammy laughed and leaned up to kiss Smitty’s weathered cheek. “Stop fretting. I’ll be fine.” She gave him a warm hug. “I’m going to my bedchamber to continue reading
Mansfield Park.
I’ll be down for dinner.”

Hearing her footsteps fade away, Smitty mopped his damp brow with a handkerchief. Facing an armed naval brigade was beginning to look infinitely more appealing to him than chaperoning Lady Samantha through her first London Season.

And being taken prisoner would pale in comparison to facing the duke.

Rem tore Boyd’s message into shreds and tossed the remains into the fire. Good. The groundwork had been laid. Rumors were already circulating that Rem had just lost a sizable fortune on an ill-fated business venture, and that he was in grave financial straits. Icily, he wondered how long it would take the news to reach Knollwood. Goddfrey had implied that the bloodsucker acquired his information posthaste. That remained to be seen. But in the meantime, all Rem could do was wait.

Goddfrey.

The viscount’s name triggered the same unanswered question that had nagged at Rem since yesterday’s ride in Hyde Park. What did Samantha know of Goddfrey’s predicament? How had she linked Goddfrey’s name with the vanishing ships? Where the hell did she get her facts?

The logical answer was from her brother. Drake Barrett must have a private source of information; Rem knew he had to learn what, or who, that was. Tonight. He’d gently pry the facts from Samantha tonight, without further encouraging her romantic fantasy.

Which was turning into his sexual preoccupation.

It had to stop. Now.

Only hurt could result from fueling the passion that blazed between him and Drake Barrett’s sister. Rem refused to succumb to it—not when the result would mean Samantha’s ruin. There was no other plausible alternative. A lasting relationship was inconceivable in his type of life. His future consisted of but two things, both of which thoroughly conflicted with Samantha’s dreams of marriage and family: freedom to satisfy his missions, and variety to satisfy his passions.

Variety. An amusing concept, he reflected with a self-deprecating smile. In truth, he hadn’t sought out one damned woman since the night he’d met Samantha … nor had he any desire to do so.

Well, he’d have to change all that. Immediately.

Jaw set with purpose, Rem headed upstairs to dress for the opera.