Cloaked in Danger (13 page)

“How dare you.” Her jaw and her fists clenched as one, while her stomach hardened. “You don’t know the first thing about my father. He is a good man.”

“I am not saying otherwise.”

She began to shake. “What you are suggesting—he would not put us through this.”

“What if he believes this is the only way to keep you safe from harm? Would he then?”

“No.” She didn’t even have to think about it. It was a ludicrous thought. “He would never do that.”

Adam stepped forward, placed his hand around her arm, and urged her out from behind the desk. She felt the heat from his fingers seeping into her, moving her toward him. Branding her arm with his warmth, opposite the chill that permeated her body.

“If he is protecting you,” Adam continued, “you are putting everything in jeopardy. His disappearance may not be what it seems.”

Anger shot to the surface, and Aria yanked her arm away, met his surprised gaze with fury blazing. As her feelings toward him had been growing, he had begun believing her father might be less than honorable. “I thought you understood what I was doing,
why
I’m doing this. You said you would help.”

“I am trying to—”

“You said you believed me!”

“I believe you believe that someone is keeping your father from you,” he replied with the calm, pacifying tone that made her want to throw something heavy at him. “But I think we need to be rational and consider all the possibilities here.”

He was just like Emily. John. Patrick. All trying to get her to see things their way, believe in what they believed. Live their lives. Defy everything that her life with her father had been about.

She had hoped that Adam saw
her
. That he accepted her.

The fact that he didn’t made her heart ache.

“Are you trying to get me to give up on this? Be a good girl? Behave myself?”

“I am trying to get you to listen to reason!”

“And now I’m unreasonable.” She crossed her arms, inhaling deeply, feeling the anger course through her in a welcome rush. Anger was better. Anger hurt less. “Perhaps you’ve finally realized you’re betrothed to a woman you don’t like, one who doesn’t conform to your way of thinking. I’ll never be one of those demure, vapid women in your world.”

“Putting aside that you just insulted every woman in my family, you must think me one manipulative bastard,” he replied harshly. “I am not that man, Aria.”

“And my father isn’t the man you are making him out to be. I know him. You don’t. I understand how he thinks, how he works. He would never choose to stay away!” Her words were a shout, and she strode toward the door, intending to leave. “And I’m not about to believe you over years of knowing him. I will
never
choose you over him.”

“You don’t know what a man would do for his family.” Adam’s scowl was as fierce as his words. “I do.” He paused, took in a ragged breath. “I understand exactly how far a man can be pushed, and how he can cross boundaries he never thought possible. But you refuse to consider anything else! You’ve concocted this reason to go on the hunt yourself, to keep yourself busy. To avoid facing any other truth, be damned what anyone else has to say.”

“By all means, do not hold anything back.”

Suddenly, Adam stepped back, put a hand up. “We need to stop. We’re both upset. It’s been a long night.”

“No, don’t stop now. Tell me how you really feel. I think I am finally learning what you think of me.”

“What I think of you?” With a muttered curse, he closed the gap between them, and in seconds, he had trapped her against the door. His arms enveloped her and before she could speak, his mouth descended on hers, landing with an urgency that ignited the flame inside of her with a flash of heat.

“What I think of you?” he echoed in her ear, before pressing a kiss against that sensitive skin just behind her earlobe. “I think far too much about you, far too often. Everything about you tempts me. You drive me to distraction, woman.”

She opened her mouth, to argue over something, she wasn’t quite sure, but his lips sank into hers again. The dart of his tongue against her teeth sent shivers of pleasure down her arms and Aria couldn’t quite catch her thoughts any more.

How had she ever wondered if he would kiss her with the chaste touch of a gentleman?

There was nothing gentlemanly, nothing chaste, in the need emanating from every inch pressed against her.

Her hands clung to his arms, as he pressed in closer. The door provided a solid wall behind her and his body molded to hers in a way that pulled a needy sigh from her throat.

All she knew, all she cared about was the feel of this man against her. His kisses were making her tipsy, and the world had begun to fade away. Her fingers clenched, tightened, as if she could hold on to her faculties. Keep the overwhelming flood of need filling her stomach at bay.

“Let go,” he urged her. “Let me in.”

Adam’s hands moved up her arms, over her shoulder, and she moved closer to him, wanting more. His fingers flirted with the collar of her gown, the edging of her chemise, and when a finger slipped underneath, touched the rise of her breast, Aria felt herself straining, greedy for more. Her composure was slipping away like a handful of sand.

And God how she wanted to let go of the anger, the fear, the uncertainty that had underscored every aspect of her life. She wanted to lose herself, just this once. To let someone else take control.

She wanted Adam to make her feel alive.

That thought was clear through the haze. It wasn’t about wanting someone. It was this man. How he made her feel. How he challenged her defenses.

That he knew how to break them down.

She sighed, and with that exhale, felt the tension, the stiffness in her body give away to him. She wound her arm around his neck, let her fingers play in the silky strands of his hair, dropped her head back to rest on the door.

Adam’s hand moved down to caress her breast, his thumb a gentle pressure against her nipple. He pressed a kiss where his fingers had been, and Aria’s breath hitched. She wanted his mouth on her. His skin against hers. The more fluid her limbs became, the stronger he felt around her.

His hands curved under his arms and without warning, he lifted her up until their eyes were even and her lips were an inch from his. Her legs, trapped in her skirts and heavy from the languidness coursing through her, moved around his hard muscled thighs, holding her closer to him as he walked with her to the desk and set her down.

“The desk?” Her voice caught. Her heart pounded blood through her veins, making her aware of every inch of her body, every inch that touched his, every inch that didn’t.

“Do you prefer red velvet and mirrors?” His cheek was rough against hers as he pressed a kiss just below her ear.

She sucked in a breath as his hand slid under the embroidered hem of her skirt. His fingers ran up against the knitted silk of her underdrawers.

“My dear Miss Whitney, underdrawers?” he murmured. “Who knew you to be so fashionable. Some circles still consider these risque.”

“On a dig site,” she managed, even as the caresses of his fingers slowly kneading her knitted silk-covered calf made it impossible to think clearly, “a petticoat would never do. You would have been shocked had we met while on travels. Skirts are ever so impractical.”

His hand stilled, but he pressed a kiss against her lips. “And what did you wear?”

She moved her leg slightly, to encourage his continued exploration. “Breeches, of course.”

Adam groaned. “God, to imagine you in such...” His hand tightened around her leg before moving upward. The two legs of her underdrawers were laced together, tied at the top around her waist, but did nothing to hide the...

Oh my good Lord in heaven.

Her thoughts scattered as the heat of his fingertips pressed against the top of her thigh and sent a bolt of heat through her. Her skin burned. Her head felt heavy. “What are...what...”

His lips took hers in a kiss filled with need, with desire, and at the same time, he fingers lightly ran over that secret part of her that seemed to beg to be touched by him. Just the smallest touch of his sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. As his kiss deepened, his finger slipped just inside her folds.

She hadn’t known anything could feel so delicious. Unconsciously, her legs opened wider and his fingers moved in, moving over her, inside of her, slowly enough to torture at first until it centered on a small nub. Each time he ran over it, it threatened to break her apart. As her breath quickened, so did his touch.

Something began to build inside of her, low in her belly, centered in that part of her that melted, became warm and wet. That feeling of need whirled inside, faster and stronger until her hips began to move with his hand, faster and faster.

His lips pressed light kisses along her neck as her held tilted back, and the combination sent her over of the edge. Her body splintered into a thousand pieces, wave after wave of pleasure overcoming and taking away the entire world, until all the remained was this man and his touch.

She didn’t know how long they sat there, she on the viscount’s desk, her body open and yielding, and his hand still inside of her. Her breaths came quickly, as though she’d been running across miles, and her heart hammered inside. But she also felt a peace she’d never known.

Adam straightened and began to slide his finger out, and she murmured her displeasure.

She pressed against him, slid her hand down his waist, over his thigh. She paused only briefly before running her fingers over his hardness. He put his hand over hers.

“I want nothing more than to be inside of you right now,” he admitted, “and if we don’t stop right now, I won’t be able to keep myself away.”

“There are other things,” she said, lifting her face to press a kiss to his neck. She knew she could give him some of the pleasure he’d given her. She moved her hand up to unbutton the front of his breeches, slid her hand inside the open flap until she wrapped her fingers around the hardened length of him. The smoothness surprised her. The drawings in the
Kama Sutra
hadn’t prepared her for that.

He let out a groan, threw his head back. “Woman, you will unman me.”

She slid her hand up the length. “That is rather the point,” she said with another kiss to his exposed neck. His finger, still inside her, moved and liquid warmth spread through her again. He leaned in toward her, captured her lips in a deep kiss even as his hand softly kneaded the juncture at her thighs. She continued her motion, measured, with a stronger pressure every time. As his breath quickened, hitched, she wrapped her fingers tighter around him, moved faster.

Inside of her, his fingers matched her pace until the heat pulsed in every part of her body. Their breath matched in rhythm. She drove him closer and closer to the edge, while he pressed deeper inside, the pad of his thumb insistently swirling around the nub that built the pressure into a frenzy.

He let out a half cry, his body lurched, and in that moment, the shockwaves of pleasure coursed through her as well. She held her hand around him tightly as his body let go, felt his hand come around hers with a soft handkerchief, and leaned into him as her body relaxed, became fluid.

Seconds turned into minutes, and time passed without thought, without worry. Until finally, they slid apart gently, and Adam looked down, a wry grin on his face.

“I need to straighten myself. If I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to keep myself from you. And the moment we share will not happen here.”

Her eyes immediately veered upward, to the mirrors that she’d forgotten. In fact, she’d forgotten everything. The room they were in. The ugliness of the man who owned it.

Why they were there.

She’d forgotten.

Her body still heavy with the effects of pleasure, Aria slid from the desk. She ran clammy hands down her skirts, lifted them to check her hair.

Adam frowned. “Aria? Are you all right? I didn’t mean...I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

She nodded. “I know.” The world crashed back around her, and the worry, the uncertainty and the anger she’d felt with him moments before tightened her shoulders, until the weight of her world felt that much heavier. He’d taken it away for a few moments, a few beautiful moments when she had let go of it all.

And now, feeling it again was almost too much to bear.

“I want to go home.” With that, she turned on her heel.

She refused to look back. She didn’t want to see his face. She knew that he’d believed that moment had brought her closer. And it had. In that moment when she’d looked into his eyes as her body opened to his, Aria knew she was dangerously close to falling in love.

And that scared her most of all.

At the door, she grabbed hold of the doorknob and opened it.

Then turned her head slightly. Gave a squeak. He stood right next to her. “What are you doing?”

“Escorting you home,” he replied, as if she were daft for asking. His gaze searched hers, quietly looking for understanding. But he didn’t ask the questions.

For that, Aria was grateful. She didn’t have any answers.

Chapter Fourteen

“Why must we attend this?” Aria asked, barely under her breath, as she accompanied Emily down the aisle created by rows of chairs on either side. She glanced at the program that had been shoved in her hand moments before, by a young girl who looked more terrified than excited.

“The Strathmore musicale and ball is one of the highlights of the season and likely the last thing I’ll be able to attend. And do stop looking so grim, Aria. The family is extraordinarily talented. Last year, their eldest girl performed a sonata with such grace and form—”

“Wait.” Aria gestured to the last row, determined not to be forced into sitting through an entire performance. “Let’s sit back here.”

Emily frowned. “The other rows have not been taken. It would be impolite.”

Aria strode to a chair two from the end and sat. “Here.”

Emily’s mouth tightened, but not one to create any sort of emotional fuss in public, she acquiesced. “Fine. But when someone comments, what shall I say?”

Aria gestured at Emily’s protruding belly. “That you are with child, of course, and need quicker access to—”

“That’s enough. Truly, Aria, I think you say such things just to shock me.”

Perhaps she did, but it had worked.

She hadn’t wanted to come here tonight, but Emily wouldn’t have come alone. And all Aria could imagine was her father’s disapproval if she had denied Emily this small request.

Since she was here, she might as well make use of the time.

The ballroom had been transformed into an intimate concert hall. Rows of chairs bedecked with chair covers and ribbons lined the floor. A piano and a harp had been placed at the front of the room, surrounded by plants. The room was lit with hundreds of candles and lamps, creating an intimate setting for such a large room.

Searching the crowd was pointless. If any of the men on her list were here for this gathering, they would be in the side rooms where card tables had been set—not in here listening to debutantes play Mozart.

She needed to be in those rooms. Now that Emily was settled, Aria should excuse herself before the performance started.

Would Lord Merewood attend?

She hadn’t thought to ask him his plans for this evening when he had his hand up her skirts the previous night. The memory of it heated her cheeks and Aria ducked her head, certain she was as red as a turnip.

She wasn’t ignorant about sex or even shy about it. At one time, she had lived in Istanbul, one of the many exotic locations she’d traveled to with her father. She’d met a number of “worldly” people, including a sheik old enough to be her grandfather, who had offered her father a tremendous sum to purchase her for his harem.

Thankfully, she had never found out what that life might have been like for her father had woken her in the middle of the night to leave. He’d feared the man would kidnap Aria.

But prior to that, Aria had met the women of the harem. And they talked. Making love was as normal a part of their lives as getting dressed, so nothing had been too sacred to discuss openly and in great detail. She’d been fourteen then, merely curious about what love entailed, and she’d gotten quite an earful.

But none of that had prepared her for the
feeling
of Adam’s hands on her body. Or the powerful confidence that had coursed through her when he held him.

Now, even with all they had done, her body wanted something she couldn’t even describe.

And more than that, she couldn’t stop daydreaming about him, about their future together.

Which, given his attitude about her search, seemed ridiculous. The fact that she’d forgotten everything in his arms made her want to...well, kick something.

Preferably him.

He thought she had concocted a way to keep herself busy. It was rubbish.

“Thank you, ladies and gentleman, for coming tonight,” the Countess of Strathmore said at the front of the room. “I hope you received a program before you sat. My daughter, Lady Amelia, will be performing first, Mozart’s Piano Sonata Number 13.”

Drat. She’d missed her opportunity.

A round of polite applause accompanied the young woman who sat gracefully at the piano bench. The music that filled the room was beautiful, but Aria was more interested in the people listening to it. She glanced about, noting that the audience seemed fully absorbed in the performance.

She could still slip out and remain mostly unnoticed.

Her body moved, ready to flee, until Emily’s hand landed on her arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

“What are you doing?” she whispered through clenched teeth, glancing at the row of people in front of them who turned to glare. “You can’t leave right now. Lady Amelia just started.”

“I need a bit of air,” Aria lied, and then realized how loud she sounded. She turned her shoulders toward Emily and leaned in, even as out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone slide into the chair to her right. “And while I’m out there, I thought to see who was about.”

“The Strathmores have five daughters, each with healthy dowries to recommend them,” Emily whispered back. “Trust me, you will find some of those men here tonight after the performance. And we will speak no more. Our behavior is deplorable.”

Being told what to do by a woman barely her senior snapped the few strands of patience Aria had. She was leaving.

She glanced to her right to make her excuses, and her heart caught in her throat.

Adam.

“Miss Whitney.” He gave a nod and then turned his attention back to the front.

That spark in her belly needed squashing. She was supposed to be angry with him.

“Lord Merewood.” She faced him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Leaving so soon?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I prefer a different form of entertainment.” She stood abruptly and took a step to pass him, just as he rose to his feet. His body thumped into hers, knocking her off balance. She grabbed hold of the chair in front of her, mindless of the person she hit in the back. Her other hand reached up to grab Merewood’s jacket. Her fingers curled under, the tips feeling the softness of his shirt and the hard heat from his skin underneath. Merewood’s hands landed at her waist to steady her.

Aria looked up. There wasn’t an inch of distance between them, and suddenly, she found it hard to catch her breath. Hard to move. Hard to avoid looking at his lips, so close to her face.

She knew what they felt like now. She knew what he could do to her body, and damn her for wanting to drag him out of the room so he could do it some more.

“Aria, sit down.” Emily’s voice was low and urgent all at once. “People are
staring
.”

With that cold splash of a reminder, Aria pushed against Merewood to right herself and stepped back. What was
wrong
with her? “I did say excuse me.”

His lips thinned into a line. “Perhaps you ought to give a gentleman a moment to stand before barreling past him.” He stepped back into the aisle.

“Perhaps you ought to sit next to someone else next time.” Aria allowed her tone to be as blunt as her words. Without waiting for a reply, she strode down the aisle. When she reached the doorway, she glanced back, noted that the guests closest to them were avidly watching.

And so was Lord Merewood.

Her heart hammered against her chest and she turned around, hurried into the empty entryway. She placed a hand over her traitorous heart. Took in a long breath. Her insides felt uncomfortably jumbled.

She’d been rude, and she felt a pang of guilt.

But he made her forget herself. He made her want things. He made her almost want to forget.

Aria shook her head and turned to the corridor. A bit of card playing and focusing on what truly mattered again would knock those stupid thoughts right out of her stupid head.

She could not forget why she was here. She could not allow anyone to make her forget.

“Miss Whitney.”

His
voice. She steeled herself, shoved those wayward emotions behind a wall of indifference, and turned to face him. “Lord Merewood.”

“Would you care to tell me what changed between last night and tonight?” He stepped closer to her, as other guests milled up and down the wide corridor, moving from the ballroom to other rooms.

Those rooms were where she needed to be. What she needed to focus on.

Not on romance, for God’s sake.

“Nothing has changed,” she told him, hoping her words sounded more adamant than her heart—which was close to melting at the adorable befuddlement on his face—felt. Better to remember the words he’d thrown at her, the accusations about her father. “I came here to further my investigation. And since we both know you believe my efforts to be fruitless and, what did you say, only to keep myself busy and avoid facing the truth, I’ll continue on my own, thank you.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she hurried into the nearest room set up for cards. As she had expected, the room held a number of gentlemen and a smaller handful of women. She glanced at the tables to see what was being played. Tables were set up throughout the well-appointed room, and almost every table was filled. A low hum filled the rooms as people played their hands, and the occasional cry of joy or despair rose above the din. At a table near where she stood, someone was rolling dice. Hazard. Not her best game.

She searched the tables for the men remaining on her list. The Earl of Dunlevy and the Duke of Cantonbury were all that remained from the original ten. One of them had to hold the answers. If neither did...well, she couldn’t consider that.

It would mean that Adam had been right. That her efforts had proven naught but a way to keep her involved. To avoid the truth that Emily, John, all of them seemed so determined to convince her was right, when she knew it had to be wrong.

She spotted the duke at a table toward the back of the room, feeling that familiar need to push the boundaries. She took a step forward, only to feel a hand wrap around her upper arm and hold her firmly in place. She looked over her shoulder. “Lord Merewood, if you please.”

He leaned closer to her than propriety warranted. “We need to talk.”

No. She most definitely did not need to do that. “Another time.”

“Aria, I never said—” He stopped as two young debutantes skirted around them as they clogged the doorway. The girls gave her the same passive glare from under their lashes she’d gotten used to, but Aria noticed their gaits slowed considerably. Adam must have noticed, for his jaw twitched. “Let’s get some punch, Miss Whitney?”

“No, thank you.” She shrugged his hand off, but his fingers wrapped about her elbow and steered her, not ungently, back out into the corridor. He moved her down the hallway a few steps and through an open door into an empty study before Aria yanked her hand back. “Adam, that’s enough. Cantonbury is in there. I cannot waste this opportunity.”

“Cantonbury will be in that room until the sun breaks dawn. He rarely ventures from the tables once he gets started. He also gets mightily irritated when someone interrupts his cards. He’s notorious for his silent games, Aria. You would do naught but annoy him should you prompt him for conversation.” He stopped, took a deep breath. “Look, about last night—”

His mention of the previous evening prompted erotic images of what they’d done and Aria’s body immediately responded, heat flowing rapidly through her, all of it seeming to head directly to that intimate part of her.

But her inability to control that, to make it go away, made her scowl at him.

“I never said that you were wasting your time in your search. I only wanted to suggest that you consider other alternatives.”

“Alternatives that paint my father to be a man who abandons his family and leaves us to wonder what happened to him.” she countered. “You want me to accept your logic, accept your way of looking at this, but I can’t.
I
won’t.
”

“Because you can never choose me over your father.” His words, an echo of the ones she had thrown at him the night before, were flat.

“Adam, I know my father. I know what he’s capable of, and—you make me forget so much, you make me think of other things, and that scares me.” Suddenly, the words she had wanted to avoid came tumbling out. “You scare me. How I feel about you scares me. I want to find my father, and I desperately want you to be on my side. I
need
you to be on my side. If you stop believing in him, if you stop believing in me, I will have to choose.” She looked into his eyes, imploring him to understand. “And I don’t want to
have
to choose.”

“Aria, this isn’t a battle. Accepting me into your life, accepting what you feel—and my God, woman, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you care for me, but accepting us does not mean you’ve given up on your father. It means that no matter where this ends, no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

“We will find my father—that’s what will happen. He is alive, Adam. He has to be, and if you’re on my side, that is what you must believe.”

It was an ultimatum, one she hadn’t known she would lay down, but now that she had, she didn’t take it back. She prayed Adam could see it for what it was. She couldn’t let go of what she believed of her father, and as long as she held on to that, the only way she could let Adam be a part of it was if he believed it, too.

She held her breath, surprised at how much she wanted his agreement. How much she wanted to know that he’d be there, next to her. How hard it was proving for her to admit she needed him.

She couldn’t say the words; they got stuck somewhere inside of her between stubborn and bullheaded, but she hoped he heard them anyway.

“Do you play whist?”

His abrupt change of subject threw her. “Yes. My father taught me.”

“I imagine that means you’re rather good. Then we’ll be partners. Shall we?” He held his arm out, his countenance serious and impassive. It was an acceptance of sorts, she believed.

And Aria took his arm and together they moved back into the card room. And yet, a voice niggled in the back of her mind that he had never answered her ultimatum.