Andrea Kane (34 page)

“Did you make plans to see her again?”

Boyd’s eyes sparkled. “Today is her day off. I’m going to close Boydry’s early and take her to a coffeehouse for dinner.”

“Good for you.”

“What about Samantha? Are you seeing her tonight? Or are you going straight to Allonshire to talk to the duke?”

“I’m taking her for a carriage ride this evening. After that, we’ll see. If I can’t make it to Allonshire and back in time for tonight’s meeting at Annie’s, I’ll visit Drake tomorrow. Either way, Samantha and I will be married within a week.”

“A week? Why?”

“Why not?”

“Surely you realize a woman like Samantha will have dreamed of a church wedding, an elegant gown, lots of guests; not to mention what her brother will want for her.”

“Surely
you
realize how impractical that is, given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances? The fact that planning your wedding might detract from our bloody mission?”

“The fact that Samantha could be carrying my child.”

“Not a likelihood after being together one night. And, even if she is, no one will be able to notice for several months. Which gives you more than enough time to give her the kind of wedding she deserves. In the meantime, just keep your hands off her for a month or so and your heirs will arrive without scandal.”

“I can’t.”

The fervor of Rem’s admission made Boyd start.

“You have no idea what happens when Samantha and I are together. Trust me, Boyd, abstinence is not an option; for either of us. The sooner I put a ring on her finger, the better. Moreover, I’ll be in a better position to protect her when I’m her husband. No, the wedding must take place immediately.”

Boyd gave a low whistle. “You’re even worse off than I thought.”

“I’m also exhausted.” Rem rubbed his hand over the shadow of a beard that darkened his face. “So, if we’re finished, I’d like to get some sleep.”

With a knowing expression, Boyd rose. “See you at Annie’s.” He paused. “Oh … and Rem? Good luck with Samantha.”

Samantha was praying for much the same.

Retying the velvet ribbon in her hair for the third time, she glanced at the clock and frowned. Unfashionably early, even without the benefit of Cynthia’s able assistance. But that wasn’t surprising. She’d had hours to select her gown and arrange her hair. In fact, aside from taking a bath and nibbling at her lunch, she had done naught but sit at her bedchamber window all day, gazing out at Abingdon Street and thinking of Rem.

’Twas just as well that it was Cynthia’s day off, Sammy thought. Lord knew, she was not ready to face anyone, least of all her new friend, who would take one look at her and know exactly what had transpired. No, her emotions were still too chaotic, her transformation too new, too overwhelming to hide.

She’d awakened at noon, but remained abed until one, devoting a full hour to a tantalizing remembrance of last night. No dream could have been more perfect than the reality of becoming a woman in Rem’s arms. She was his now, irrevocably so, and nothing the future held could change that.

The future.

That vast, unknown entity had dominated Sammy’s thoughts for the duration of the day. She was not naive enough to believe the future awaited smooth and untainted … not with the deep trenches of Rem’s past scarring its path. No, those trenches had to be mended, carefully and with an enveloping blanket of love.

It was up to her to do that. A formidable task indeed. But Sammy wasn’t deterred. In fact, she was exhilarated. For at last her role as a heroine was defined.

Time after glorious time, Rem had proved himself to be her hero: rescuing her, protecting her, cherishing her as he introduced her to a world of dazzling sensations. Now it was her turn. She would be the most valiant of heroines, restore to her hero the peace he craved, and at the same time, heal the scars he abhorred and guide him to the emotional exultation he never knew he yearned for.

Rem was in love with her. Sammy knew it. And once she’d fulfilled her role as his heroine, he would belong to her as totally as she already belonged to him.

Smoothing her bodice, Sammy reminded herself that Rem wasn’t aware of the depth of his own feelings. Nor could she thrust them at him. She had to patiently, steadfastly, chip away at the debris surrounding his heart, until it was free of its restrictive burden.

But first she had to find its cause.

It didn’t involve a woman. Rem had told her so himself the night they’d attended the opera. He’d implied that his cynicism was precipitated by something far more devastating than a woman’s deception.

But what?

Perhaps their upcoming ride through Hyde Park could provide her with some answers …
if
she asked the right questions, carefully and without triggering Rem’s self-protective mechanism.

Staring solemnly at her reflection, Sammy reminded herself that her goal was monumental, nearly impossible to attain. With the exception of Boyd, she was certain Rem had never confided his pain or his fears in anyone. Conversely, she could never imagine wedding a man who refused to share himself with her. It was an insurmountable impasse.

She could hardly wait to surmount it and become Rem’s wife.

Voices drifted up from outside her window, and Sammy peeked through the curtains curiously. She had to smile at what she saw.

In the drive, Boyd was assisting Cynthia into a waiting phaeton, evidently escorting her out for the evening. But what a different Cynthia it was! Laughing, her face aglow, garbed in a feminine blue day dress rather than her primly starched uniform … Cynthia looked positively radiant. Beaming ear to ear, Boyd climbed in beside her and urged the horses into a trot.

A momentous day off for Cynthia, Sammy thought with a fond grin.

Her grin faded and her heart began to slam against her ribs as, in the phaeton’s wake, Rem’s closed carriage rounded the drive. A liveried footman scurried about to open the carriage door for the earl, and Rem emerged, all elegant sophistication and unmistakable sexuality.

Sammy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. The moment of reckoning was upon her.

Steeling herself, Sammy smoothed the folds of her white muslin carriage dress once, twice, trying to still her raw nerves. At last she gave up, opening her bedchamber door in time to collide with a young serving girl.

“Forgive me, m’lady.” The girl regained her balance and curtsied, a mortified blush staining her cheeks.

“The fault was mine,” Sammy answered gently. “Did you come to tell me that the Earl of Gresham was here?”

“Yes, m’lady. I did.”

“Then you’ve done your job … and survived a collision with a clumsy and jittery dolt. Thank you.”

The girl looked astounded. “Thank
you,
my lady.” Eyes wide, she backed away, then turned and scooted off.

Sammy took a deep breath and started down the hall. Turning the corner, she nearly fell over a sprinting ball of fur that whizzed by her like a streak of white lightning.

“Rascal! For goodness sake!” Sammy clutched the wall for support.

Rascal slowed down only to bark triumphantly, then raced off with the coveted stocking he’d apparently pilfered from Cynthia’s room.

Rolling her eyes, Sammy set off for the stairs again, determined to reach them without further mishap. Evidently it was not meant to be.

Rounding the second floor landing, she smacked into Aunt Gertrude, nearly catapulting the elderly woman down the entire flight.

“Oh, Aunt Gertie, I’m so sorry!” Sammy steadied her aunt, wondering if all these casualties heralding her way to Rem were a prelude to the obstacles she would soon face.

“No harm done,” Gertrude assured her, blinking a bit. Then she gave Sammy a conspiratorial smile. “Besides, I know why you’re in such a hurry! I just saw that handsome Earl of Gresham awaiting you in the sitting room.”

“Yes, we’re en route to Hyde Park.” Guilt pricked at Sammy’s conscience as she realized that she was on the verge, yet again, of going out without a proper chaperon. “Please join us, Aunt Gertie.” The invitation nearly stuck in her throat. “I’m certain Remington would be delighted to have you as his guest.”

“You’re right. I do need a rest.” Aunt Gertrude yawned. “Have a lovely time, dear.” She patted Sammy’s arm.

“But Cynthia is off today,” Sammy felt compelled to add. “And I’m aware that—”

“A hat?” Gertrude paused, her eyes narrowed assessingly. “Yes, you should wear a hat; that dress cries out for one. Now, let me think. A hat … a hat …” She snapped her fingers. “I have just the thing. Wait here.” She tottered off, excitement crackling about her. A moment or two later she returned, clutching a wide-brimmed straw hat boasting five rows of red satin ribbon, three huge lavender flowers in the front and a bevy of billowing yellow ostrich plumes around the rim.

Sammy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Here, dear.” Gertrude pressed the monstrosity into Sammy’s hands. “I insist that you wear it to impress that splendid escort of yours.”

“But—”

“No buts. Be off with you!” Aunt Gertrude shooed Sammy toward the stairs.

Still dazed, Sammy complied. What more could she do? She’d tried, several times in fact, to do the proper thing. She had no intention of giving Fate another opportunity to change her mind.

Hat in hand, Sammy descended the steps and entered the sitting room.

“Hello, Rem.”

He turned instantly, that devastating smile curving his lips, revealing his dimple. “You look beautiful, imp.” He absorbed her slowly, possessively, his gaze openly intimate and caressing. Suddenly, his brow furrowed. “What is
that?
”

Biting back laughter, Sammy tucked the hat beneath her arm. “I’ll explain later. Can we go now?”

“Alone?” His question emanated heated longing.

Sammy nodded.

“Come.” He asked no further questions.

The moment the carriage left the drive, Rem pulled the curtains closed and swung across to sit beside Sammy.

“How much time do we have?” she asked softly, staring at her clenched hands.

“I told my driver to keep circling the park until I tell him otherwise.”

“Good. We have much to discuss.”

“No, imp, we don’t.” He raised her chin with a gentle forefinger. “You’re going to be my wife. That’s all there is to discuss.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “Frankly, I’d hoped to put these hours to better use.”

“Rem, I’m not a plaything. I’m a woman.”

“I know.” He brushed his lips over hers.

“Oh, Rem.” Sammy wasn’t certain why, but she had a sudden, desperate need for him to hold her. She pressed closer, laying her head on his shoulder, seeking some level of comfort that only he could give.

Rem seemed to understand, perhaps better than she. His arms closed around her, enveloping her in his strength, his warmth. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath ruffling her hair. “Everything is going to be all right.”

“I am afraid. And I don’t even know why.”

“Last night nearly brought me to my knees.” Rem’s voice was a husky caress. “What happened between us was beyond anything I’ve ever encountered, even remotely, in the past. So, isn’t it natural that you, who came to my bed a complete and total innocent, would be a bit shattered by its intensity? I know I was … I still am.”

“I want more.” Sammy gripped the lapels of his coat.

“I know you do.” Rem didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “And I’ll give you everything I have to give.”

She raised her head. “I shall never ask for more than that.”

He kissed her; a slow, melting exploration of her mouth. “Would it help if I told you I never even believed myself capable of this much?”

Sammy smiled against his lips. “I don’t believe you, my lord. I imagine scores of women have told you how devastating your kisses are.”

Rem chuckled. “I wasn’t speaking of my kisses.”

“I know.” Sammy twined her arms about his neck, feeling his muscles tighten in response. She was strangely touched by the effect she had on him, moved by the knowledge that, despite the vast number of women who had preceded her, she alone had captured Rem’s invincible heart … whether or not he knew it. “I love you, Rem,” she whispered.

He lifted her onto his lap, tugging the velvet ribbon from her hair and tangling his fingers in the cascading tresses that tumbled over her shoulders. “I want to drown in you,” he muttered, dragging her mouth back to his.

Welcoming all the unspoken love in Rem’s kiss, Sammy was utterly, entirely lost. Everything faded into obscurity; her plans, her thoughts, her very breath. All she knew was Rem. Rem and how much she loved him.

His mouth ravaged hers, taking, giving, drawing her tongue forward to mate with his. She gasped when his lips left hers, but her breath lodged in her throat as his mouth found the pulse point in her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the arch of her breast. Her bodice was down … how, when, she had no idea. All she knew was that his lips were surrounding her nipple, circling it, scraping it, drawing its aching peak into the heated cavern of his mouth. Sammy clutched Rem’s shoulders, throwing her head back, all of last night’s urgency crashing through her as if it had never gone, hot, violent need throbbing in her loins, pooling between her thighs.

“Rem …” She sobbed his name, moving helplessly against him in a wild, undulating motion.

“Christ.” It was a harsh growl, a reverent prayer, uttered from deep within Rem’s soul. He couldn’t think, didn’t care about anything on earth but Samantha and losing himself in her melting warmth. He lifted her, unbuttoning his breeches and raising her skirts all at once.

“Rem?”

He met her gaze from beneath passion-heavy lids, wildly battling the pounding urge beating inside him, the heedless voice that commanded him to take her, all of her, now, and damn everything else to hell.

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he paused. “Is this what you want?” he demanded, his voice rough with unquenched desire.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“I want you, Rem.” Her voice was reckless with passion. “Just tell me how.”

Her innocence was the most powerful aphrodisiac Rem had ever known. He groaned, feeling himself harden nearly beyond bearing. “Put your knees on either side of me,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Do it now, Samantha, before I lose my mind.”