Forged by Desire (33 page)

“I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that today. But you need to heal, so that I can tell you again tomorrow. And the day after that. I made you a promise—”

Her eyes fluttered closed in dreamy surrender, her body slumping into his arms. Unconscious.

Slowly the world began to come back into focus. Lynch was standing, bellowing at the curious crowd to stand clear. The Earl of Langford’s eyes were locked on Garrett, seeing everything that he couldn’t be bothered to hide.

“Jolly good show,” one of the American blue bloods said, clapping an earl on the back. “It shall be the talk of the exhibition.”

The crowd began to clap.

Garrett curled his lip back off his teeth. Getting her out of this vulture’s nest couldn’t come too soon.

A spark crackled in the grate.

Her eyelids weighed down by heaviness, Perry sighed and rolled onto her side. Warmth cocooned her. Blinking against the thick darkness of the room, she pushed some of the blankets off herself and then stilled, her senses finally beginning to make some sense of the situation.

The Moncrieff. His sword sliding through her chest as if through paper. And Garrett begging her to stay with him as he lowered her to the floor and tried to stop her from bleeding.

An ache throbbed in her chest and Perry sat up, glancing down at the frilly spill of lace around her throat. Someone had dressed her in a lawn nightgown, the kind of thing that debutantes wore. Perry rubbed between her breasts. There was no twinge from a wound, but she could feel it deep inside still, where the craving virus sought to heal her.

“You’re awake,” a hoarse voice whispered.

A large form dissolved out of the shadows, Garrett pushing away from the fire he’d been staring into. Its warm, golden light licked the tired planes of his face as he turned, highlighting the blue of his eyes and the dark circles that shadowed them.

“You look awful,” she rasped.

His mouth tightened, but he said nothing. Merely stared at her with a hungry, yearning look in his eyes.

Perry’s chest tightened again, but not from her wound. She lifted her arm and gestured for him to come to her. As if the action had unlocked some door, he spilled into motion, crossing her bedroom in firm strides and drawing her into his arms.

“Oh, sweet Lord, Perry,” he whispered, crushing her against his chest and burying his face in her hair as he knelt on the bed. “You’re not to do that again.”

“I shall definitely duck next time,” she agreed, sliding her arms up under his shoulders and closing her eyes. For the first time, she could simply enjoy the sensation of being in his arms without guilt or fear forcing her away.

There was a harsh quiver in his body. She froze, one hand caressing the dark hair at his nape. “Garrett?”

He shook his head and clung to her, unable to breathe even a hint of how he felt inside.

“We survived,” Perry whispered. The truth hit her. Both the duke and Hague were gone forever. She would never have to fear them again, never have to keep looking over her shoulder. For the first time in ten years, the future stretched out before her, bright and beckoning and…

And then she realized.

“Garrett?” She pushed him back, trying to capture his face in her hands. “You killed Hague. You weren’t meant to kill him. He knows how to work the device, how to—”

Thick dark lashes flickered up over bright blue eyes. “It’s all right. Byrnes found the key on Hague, and Lynch took the device into custody in all the confusion. Honoria Rachinger helped me use it. Not long enough to drop my levels beyond sixty percent, but it will put off the inevitable for a while longer. The prince consort has the device now.”

“He won’t allow you access to it.”

“I know.” Garrett shrugged. “But we have time. Lynch has heard several rumors of a cure—out of the East End, actually. He’s been discussing it with Barrons, who seems to have more information.”

“How long do you think you have?” she asked, sitting up.

“Hopefully long enough.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Perry, must we discuss this now? I’ve just gotten you back. Let’s simply enjoy the here and now.”

“But I want forever,” she told him hotly.

“And I will do what I can to be here for you.”

“Promise me.”

He drew back onto his knees on the bed, the stubborn line of his jaw tightening. “Perry, I knew that we could evade the duke. This is different… This is…inevitable.”

“I spent nine years hoping you’d notice me. Nine years! And now that you have, I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.” She slammed her open palm against his chest. “You made me promises.”

“Stop it! You’ll hurt yourself. Your chest—”

“You said that you would tell me you loved me every day for the rest of my life. You made me believe that! It was the only thing that kept me going”—and here her voice broke—“at a very bad time for me. You can’t break your word.” Another useless wrench against his grip. “You can’t.”

“Perry.” He dragged her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, her hips straddling his thighs. “Stop it. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You seem to have no such compunctions.”

Suddenly she was flat on her back on the bed, with Garrett leaning over her, pinning her wrists to the sheets. His eyes blazed black with fury. “That’s enough,” he snapped. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. You need to calm down.”

“Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you won’t leave me.”

His body sagged, pressing her against the mattress. “Damn it, Perry, I promise.” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers.

“I want you to say the words,” she pressed. “Say, ‘I promise I won’t ever leave you.’”

Garrett reared back just enough to stare at her. Shadows limned his face, caressing his high cheekbones.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often you
seem
to agree to do what I say,” she shot back with a glare.

“I was rather hoping you wouldn’t realize.”

“Garrett?”

He shifted to the side, resting on one elbow and letting her wrists go. The expression on his face was impenetrable. “I promise I won’t ever leave you.” One hand stroked her jaw. “I don’t
want
to leave you. I love you.”

All of the fight went out of her. She’d dreamed of this. Feared it with equal measure. But it was time to leave fear behind her. Time to be brave. Perry cupped his hand against her face. “I…I love you too. I always have.”

Garrett shut his eyes, a shudder running through his broad frame. “That’s the first time you’ve said it, you know.”

“I couldn’t before. Because then it would make it real and I didn’t want to lose it.”

He knew. His eyes blazed with fierce desire.

“Where did you find this?” Perry cleared her throat, fingering the nightgown. Time to speak of other things.

“Your father insisted on sending for it. For a great deal of your things, actually.” Garrett’s head tilted toward the corner, where a weather-beaten old trunk rested. She recognized the crest on it. “He’s kept them all these years.”

“Is he here?” she whispered, rubbing at her chest again. The ache had intensified.

“Yes. He’s asleep in one of the cells. Do you want to see him?”

“Not just yet. Give me time. I still feel a little lost and…guilty, I suppose. I was angry at him at the time, and frightened the duke would hurt him and—” Her voice dropped. “I don’t want to have to face anyone just yet. I want to stay here. With you.”

“Just you, then. And me,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the fine lace of her neckline, trailing over the lawn. His gaze had dropped, smoky blue now with heat. “It’s pretty.”

A month ago, she would have thrown those words in his face. She’d spent so many years pretending not to be a woman, pretending she didn’t have a woman’s needs or desires. For so long she’d been a different person. Now a part of her felt cut loose, as though she wasn’t quite certain what to make of herself.

A Nighthawk didn’t wear lace-trimmed nightgowns. But something in her liked the way he was looking at her. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman—not a coltish girl, uncertain of herself, or even a woman forced to wear men’s attire. There were no expectations of who she should be. Garrett simply liked what she was.

Garrett’s fingers tugged on the strings holding the nightgown together and Perry’s breath caught, her nipples hardening behind the fine lawn. He noticed, of course, his gaze flickering to hers for one long, melting moment before a smile graced his lips.

Thick, delicious tension curled through her lower abdomen, and she couldn’t stop her hand from lifting and brushing against the soft linen of his shirt. Her nightgown fell open beneath his touch and then he kissed her throat, the coolness of his breath drifting across her skin.

Perry shivered. That afternoon in the rain had been imprinted on her skin and burned into her very bones, but she liked this too, this gentle seduction. The cool trace of his lips as he caressed her throat and chin, then cupped her face and turned her mouth to his.

He stole her breath, tongue dancing with her own. A kiss that consumed her, let her know just how much he knew about this, about sex and hot, wet kisses and the desperate ache between them that felt like it could never be assuaged. Her teeth sank into his lip and she arched up beneath him, his palm curving over the slight swell of her breast.

Yes. There.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, tugging at his shirt.

A swift glance at her, then he licked his way down her throat, his tongue dancing over the throbbing beat of her vein. He knew what she wanted without being told, one hard thumb rubbing delicate circles around her nipple, ruching the fabric. Then his mouth was there, suckling her through the fine lawn. Perry yielded with a gasp, her hands dragging his shirt over his head, his lips parting from her skin just long enough to get it off. Then her hands were sinking into the thickness of his hair, dragging his mouth back where she wanted it.

In all of her many dreams of this, she’d never quite realized the meticulous care he’d take. He loved her body as if there could be no greater pleasure than this, as if each whispered cry and moan he wrung from her lips was more precious than gold. A man sure in his skill and his reading of her.

One hand slid along her inner thighs. “Part for me,” he whispered and coaxed her thighs to fall open.

She couldn’t deny him. The feel of his palm against her skin was a devastating tease. Just resting there. Making her arch her hips as if to beg for more of his touch.

“Please.” She needed that touch. Needed something to slake the vicious hunger.

Fingers danced up her inner thigh, finding the wet curls there. Garrett drew back just enough for her to see his eyes consumed by the same hunger that afflicted her. His lips curved. “You’re wet for me.”

“Always.”

Slow, silky touches. Torture. Perry entwined her arms around his neck and moaned, her nipples aching for the return of his mouth. He knew it too, his eyes dancing with amusement as he bowed his head and took one aching bud between his teeth just as his fingers drove into her. The sensation speared through her, igniting the feel of his fingers thrusting slowly into her body.

“Faster,” she whispered, but he took no heed. Each light caress only slowed further, until she was begging, grinding against his hand, her own fingers clutching at his wrist in desperation.

Then his hands were gone and he came over her, hips pressing against hers, right where she needed it. Perry sucked in a shuddering breath, his hands pinning hers to the bed. His erection strained against the leather of his trousers, grinding hotly against her until she came with a harsh exhalation, the world vanishing around her until only he remained.

She collapsed back on the sheets, panting.

“There she is,” Garrett whispered, his lips caressing her jaw. “My fierce little peregrine. Sweet and sensual and so damned beautiful. I’ve dreamed of you like this. Dreamed of fucking you.” His hand circled her throat and stroked down to her chest. “Of taking blood from you. Hearing you cry out.” He bared his teeth, the hunger in him all-consuming. “Stop me,” he begged.

“Never.”

And then he was as lost as she was. Kissing her, his tongue mating with her own, his body riding her back to the edge of something so strong she almost feared it.

Sweet Lord, he was strong. Perry’s fingers flexed in the hard muscle of his biceps, gliding over the heated satin of his skin. She dug her nails into the flex of his shoulders, gasping a little as his hips ground down upon hers. Garrett captured the gasp with a surging kiss, his touch growing a little stronger, a little more desperate now…

With a soft moan, she slid her legs around his hips, the lawn pressing damply against her. Reaching between them, she found the buttons on his leather trousers and fumbled with them in the warm dark.

Garrett bit her chin, pressing soft kisses there. “Here, love.” He reached down and tugged the buttons open, letting the heated weight of his cock spill into her hands.

Dark lashes closed over smoky blue eyes as he moaned. His cock clenched beneath her tightening fingers, and when he looked up at her through passion-glazed eyes, she loved it.

The next kiss took her by surprise, hard and demanding, his lips possessing hers with slow, languid skill. Hips rocking against her, her hands sliding over that smooth, polished length, wringing other soft noises from deep within his throat…

Then he cursed under his breath and rolled to the side, tugging the tight leather down his muscled thighs. Perry rolled onto her elbow, her fingertips dancing down the hard ripple of his abdomen. She liked the sudden sense of urgency she felt in him, as though he couldn’t control himself with her.

Firelight gleamed on his pale skin, caressing each long muscle. He truly was a work of art, built to fight, to kill, to hunt… As her palms skated over the planes of his abdomen she couldn’t help wishing she owned some kind of artistic talent, some way of capturing this moment forever.

Muscle flexed in his arm as he threw his pants aside, then he turned back to her with a predatory gaze and reached for her. Perry pushed at his shoulder instead, coming onto her knees over him as he fell flat. Hot, wicked eyes met hers as he understood her intentions. Then he was dragging her onto his lap, her thighs parting around his as the nightgown bunched around her hips and dangled off one shoulder, revealing her breast.

Fine hairs rasped against her inner thighs as he shifted her into place. Then his hands skated along her thighs, lifting the hem of the nightgown. The lazy, heated look he gave her burned through her.

“Off,” he demanded, sliding his hands up beneath it.

Perry plucked at the hem and dragged it up over her head, before tossing it aside. His gaze dropped in appreciation, a small growl echoing in his throat. That look of his… It stole any sense of self-consciousness from her. She was beautiful, here, now, in his eyes… And she’d carry that with her forever.