Andrea Kane (21 page)

He took in her expression and nodded. “Very well. But I do insist on escorting you back to the party.”

“When did you become so gallant?” Anders mocked.

“Stephen, don’t make a scene, please.” Sammy lay her hand on his arm. “I think it’s best if I do go back to the party. Aunt Gertie will be looking for me anyway.”

“As you wish.” Stephen bowed stiffly, his icy gaze fixed on Rem. “We’ll talk another time.”

“Yes, fine.” Gathering up her skirts, Sammy made her way to the ballroom.

“Samantha.”

She stopped, inclining her head slightly. “What is it, Remington?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Rem inhaled sharply. “What the hell were you just doing?”

“Conversing with Viscount Anders.”

“You mean flirting with him.”

“I don’t flirt, my lord. You of all people know that. Remember? You’re the one who told me how forthright I was.”

Despite his anger, Rem’s dimple flashed. “I remember.” His gaze fell to her lips. “I remember many things.”

Her flush deepened. “May I go in now?”

“Only to say good night.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me. Just tell your aunt I’m taking you home.”

Sammy studied him uncertainly. “Why?”

“Because neither of us wants to be here. And because I need to talk to you.”

“All right.”

Several minutes later, Sammy sat rigidly in Rem’s luxurious carriage, desperately trying to calm herself. She must act casual, nonchalant, as if she hadn’t spent the past forty-eight hours yearning for this man. It was imperative that she keep her anxiety carefully concealed.

“Why are you so uneasy, imp? You’ve been alone with me before.”

So much for concealment.

“After Monday … I feel uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“Because”—she averted her eyes—“I’m well aware that you undress and … touch women with great regularity. But it was my first such experience with a man. And, in the wake of our encounter, I’m not certain how to behave.”

“Come here.”

“What?” Her chin came up.

“I said, come here.” Rem reached over and lifted her onto his lap. “God, I’ve missed you.” Hungrily, he buried his lips in hers, his kiss burning with passion and jealousy and a touch of anguish.

“Is this because of Stephen?” Sammy managed.

“No.” His mouth was on her neck, her throat. “Not that I didn’t want to kill him. I did. But this is because of us.” He tugged down her sleeve, bathing the smooth curve of her shoulder with his tongue. “Because the very thought of you with another man—
any
other man—is untenable. Because you’re mine. Because I’m so bloody tired of fighting a battle that was lost the moment we met. Because if I don’t have you I’ll die.” He pressed his face against the hollow between her breasts. “Are those reasons enough?”

“Yes,” she breathed, threading her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Rem, I’ve missed you, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vauxhall, and what happened … what almost happened—”

He silenced her with his mouth, pressing her to the velvet cushion of the darkened carriage, following her down.

Words evaporated into nothingness, and the reality that time was short, their destination imminent, became insignificant next to the relentless need pulsating through them.

Rem was ruthless in his seduction, driven by demons he didn’t recognize and an emptiness he could no longer face. He unfastened the buttons of her gown, kissing each inch of skin he bared, worshiping the upper slope of her breasts with his mouth.

It wasn’t enough … for either of them.

With one harsh tug, Rem pulled her bodice lower, freeing her breasts to his gaze, his touch. With burning eyes, he watched her nipples tighten, until, when he could bear no more, he slid his arm beneath her waist and lifted her to him, lowering his mouth to the beckoning peaks and taking what Sammy so willingly, wholeheartedly, offered.

Nothing had ever tasted this sweet. The untainted beauty of Samantha’s body, the natural sensuality of her response, stoked the flames coursing through Rem’s blood. He didn’t give a damn if the whole world disintegrated around them. He wanted Samantha. Here. Now. This instant. With every fiber of his being.

Damn Anders to hell. Damn any man who tried to claim her. She was his—
his
—and he needed to brand her so completely that there would never be any doubt of that fact.

His fingers glided up her leg, beneath her gown, over the silk of her stocking. She was trembling; so was he. The carriage jostled, and his hand slid farther up the soft contour of her thigh. “I’ve got to touch you,” he muttered against her breast. “I’ve … got … to.”

Sammy’s fingers sifted restlessly through his hair, holding him to her. “Yes … that feels so … oh, Remington.” She caught her breath as his fingers neared their mark, teasing the sensitive curve where her thigh ended.

“Let me …”

“Yes …”

“I’ve got to …”

“Yes.”

“Samantha …” His most intimate caress followed on the heels of her name, causing her breath to erupt in a harsh sound of pleasure.

“Oh, Rem …”

“God …” Rem closed his eyes, tenderly claiming the warm wetness that belonged to him … only him. Slowly, gently, he entered her with one finger, groaning aloud at the tight, clinging resistance that greeted his touch. “You’re perfect,” he told her huskily. “Perfect.”

“Kiss me,” she managed, quivering from head to toe. “Please …”

He covered her mouth with his, taking her with deep, lusty strokes of his tongue, his finger moving tantalizingly in and out, in a rhythm that made them both wild.

“I want to be inside you,” he rasped against her parted lips. “God, I’ve
got
to be inside you.”

“Remington … what’s happening?” Sammy choked out, her body tightening, crying out for some unknown release.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. Let it happen,” he replied, determinedly mastering his own body’s urgent need. “Let me give this to you …”

The carriage jolted to a halt.

“Remington … please … don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“I won’t. I won’t.” He didn’t give a damn where they were.

“My lady?” Cynthia’s purposeful voice penetrated the privacy of the carriage walls. “Is that you?”

Sammy’s eyes flew open, filled with fear and smoky passion and unfulfilled need. “Oh … I …”

Rem wanted to choke Cynthia with his bare hands. “Dammit. Dammit to hell.” He gritted his teeth, simultaneously striving to bring his own body under control and to soothe the panicked, heightened sensations of Sammy’s. “God I’m sorry,” he whispered, his fingers still damp with her response. “Samantha, I …” He didn’t know what to say. Maybe there was nothing he could say. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” Swiftly, he hauled himself upright, tugging up her bodice and smoothing her gown. “No one will know.”

Her expression tore at his heart. “I don’t care who knows. I feel so … I ache.”

“I know you do, love. So do I.”

That seemed to surprise, and distract, her. “You do?”

He chuckled, despite the screaming need for release that tore at his loins. “More than you could ever imagine.” He stroked her hot cheek with his knuckles. “I’ll explain to you another time … when we finish what we just began.”

She searched his face intently. “
Will
we finish what we just began?”

“Yes.” Even as he uttered the vow, Rem knew he intended to keep it. Neither of them could retreat from this madness, return to being the people they were before. It was too late … for both of them.

Soberly, Rem reached around to button her gown. “The next time you’re in my arms, I promise to bring you every exquisite pleasure you’ve ever dreamed of, fulfill aches you never even knew you possessed.”

“When?”

His eyes smoldered. “The instant I get you alone.” He framed her face between his hands, kissed her softly. “Will you be all right?”

“Not nearly as all right as I will be next time.”

His body leaped at the suggestive gleam in her eye. “Samantha—”

“My lady? Are you well?”

“Yes, Cynthia, of course I’m well,” Sammy snapped loudly enough for her friend to hear. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m going to throttle your new maid,” Rem muttered.

“I’d better go.” Sammy eased away reluctantly.

“Till tomorrow, imp.” He pressed his lips to her palm.

“Remington …” Sammy stared at his mouth as it caressed her fingers. “Until we find the time we need to be alone … until then”—she raised her chin, candidly uttering her solemn proclamation—“I don’t want you with other women.”

Rem didn’t mock her as she’d feared. He didn’t even smile. “Your fate is sealed, my lady,” he murmured huskily, his breath warm against her skin. “Since that night at Boydry’s, I haven’t been with another woman. I haven’t even wanted one. Only you.”

“Not even at Annie’s?”

“Not even at Annie’s.”

“I’m glad.” Sammy’s smile was radiant, her belief instant and absolute.

Humbled by her faith in him, Rem felt that now-familiar emotion unfurl in his chest. “Go, love.” He leaned across to open the carriage door. “Before your Cynthia has my head.”

Sammy nodded, dazedly accepting the waiting footman’s assistance in alighting, profusely thanking the stupefied servant for his exceptional efforts. In truth, she wanted to hug the man … and everyone else for the gift she’d just been given.

Her elation did not extend to Cynthia.

Waiting only until Rem’s footman had abandoned his post, Sammy confronted her friend, mincing no words.

“What exactly did you think you were doing?”

“Saving you.” Cynthia gestured toward the Worth family crest, emblazoned on the gleaming carriage side. “It’s obvious who brought you home. It’s not hard to imagine what was going on in there.” She scrutinized Sammy’s disheveled appearance. “It appears I didn’t interrupt a moment too soon.”

More exasperated than embarrassed, Sammy headed toward the house. “Right now, I’m far too ecstatic to be angry,” she called over her shoulder. “However, when my feet touch the ground, I have a few things to say to you.”

She disappeared into the entranceway.

Cynthia inhaled sharply, frustrated and worried over Samantha’s naiveté. Naught but pain could result from the preoccupation her young mistress had with the Earl of Gresham. Yet Samantha refused to see the reality of where her adoration was heading. Well then, it was up to her to intervene, Cynthia thought, before it was too late.

Taking advantage of her unexpected opportunity, Cynthia stalked forward and yanked open the carriage door. “I’d like a word with you, my lord.”

Rem leveled his cool gray stare at her. “That would probably be wise. Perhaps you could explain your rather curious display of morality.”

“I know what you think of me, Lord Gresham. In truth, I couldn’t care less. But Samantha is a different situation entirely. I want you to leave her alone.”

“You’ve known her several days, and are already prepared to assume the role of her protector?”

“Why not? You’ve known her but a scant time longer and are already prepared to assume the role of her seducer.” Cynthia bristled, too angry to remember her station as a servant. “Go back to Annie’s, my lord. At least there you can be honest about your intentions. And no one will get hurt.”

“While we’re on the subject of Annie’s, why are
you
no longer there?”

“I owe you no explanation.”

“Or perhaps I should ask why you began working at Annie’s in the first place?”

“My choices are my own. They concern no one but me.”

“I beg to differ with you. As long as you’re employed by Samantha, your choices concern me as well. And Cynthia … I’m very adept at finding out what I want to know.”

Cynthia began to tremble beneath Rem’s implicit threat. “You’re all alike, aren’t you? Domination and conquest are all you care about. Well, do your worst, my lord—I have nothing more to lose. But Samantha does. And I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and let you reduce her to the life of a whore.” Gathering up her skirts, Cynthia turned away. “Good night, Lord Gresham … I’m sure Katrina will be more than happy to minister any lingering needs you might have.”

Watching Cynthia’s retreating back, Rem mulled over the altercation that had just occurred. He couldn’t help but admire the woman’s blatant and genuine loyalty for Samantha, nor could he ignore her obvious breeding and refinement. A whore? Doubtful. Boyd was right—there was more here than met the eye. Samantha’s new maid was fast becoming an engrossing enigma of her own.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed two, reminding Rem he had an appointment to keep.

“Badewell?” he called to his driver, leaning out the carriage window. “Let’s be off to Annie’s.”

A moment after Rem’s carriage disappeared down Abingdon Street, the Barrett’s front door clicked shut.

I
WON’T STOP SEEING
him.”

Sammy raised her chin defiantly, confronting Cynthia in the privacy of her own bedchamber.

“I know you care for him, Samantha. And you
believe
he cares for you. But—”

“He does care for me. Probably more than even he knows.”

Cynthia sighed. This was turning out to be more difficult than she’d expected. “We haven’t known each other very long, Samantha. There’s really no reason why you should trust me—”

“I trust you implicitly,” Sammy interrupted. “This has nothing to do with trust. It has to do with love.” She took Cynthia’s hands in hers. “I love him, Cynthia. I’ve loved him from the first moment I saw him.”

“How can you love a man you hardly know?”

Sammy smiled. “But I do know him. Somehow I’ve always known him.”

“In your dreams.”

“In my heart.” Sammy chewed her lip, trying desperately to make Cynthia understand. “Cynthia, I truly believe that for every woman, fate has created the right man. I know you think I’m a fanciful child … that, of course, is your right. But I’ve watched Alex and Drake, so I’ve seen what love is. I also remember Drake’s life before Alex, so I’ve seen what loneliness is, as well. Please believe me, I’m not as much a child as you assume I am. A romantic, perhaps, but not a child. And since that rainy night in Boydry’s when I first laid eyes on Remington, I’ve never doubted that I was destined to belong to him, and he to me.”