Her Officer and Gentleman (22 page)

Christian followed her, amused at her haughty demeanor and still burning with the desire to touch her. She had driven him to distraction under the desk, and following her now, watching
her sexy sway as she marched to the sitting room, was stirring his masculinity to new heights.

He wanted this woman. Not just once. But over and over. Yet the weight of the miniature in his pocket told him that his time with her was limited. She would never look at him the same once she discovered the truth about her Grandfather. This could be their one chance.

The moment they reached the sitting room, he knew he had to have her. She closed the door, then turned, her back against the oak panel, a look of such heated longing that he hesitated no more. He was against her in an instant, pressing her back against the door and giving her the kiss he’d been holding since they’d left the library. His hands roamed, molding her hips, sliding down her flat stomach. God, but she felt so good. So right. He could not stop touching her.

Beth moaned against him, her arms tight about his neck as she unconsciously moved her hips against his. It was almost more than he could take. He had to have her. If this was to be their last day together, their last taste of passion before they were split apart, then so be it. At least it would be one worth remembering.

He broke the kiss long enough to sink to his knees before her. Her hands rested on his shoulder, her eyes dark with passion and curiosity.

He bent to his knees before her and lifted her gown, running his hands up her leg over her silk stockings.

“So lovely,” he murmured, cupping her calf, his fingers brushing over the back of her knee.

Tremors of sensation rippled through Beth.

She gasped as his hand slid higher still. He was pushing up her gown, bunching it about her thighs and lifting it farther. Some innate sense of modesty fought for breath, sent her trembling hands to the edges of her gown. She had to fight the impulse to tug her gown back into place, to hide from the passion inside her. The passion he was fanning to new heights.

He looked up at her, his eyes shimmering with heat, his black hair over his brow. He was achingly handsome and all hers. Hers for just this moment. All too soon, they would find their answers, whatever they were, and he would be gone.

Her throat tightened; her chest ached. Her fingers closed over the edge of her gown…and she lifted it higher, up her thighs to her hips. The coolness of the air chilled her through her thin silk pantaloons, sending waves of tantalizing shivers across her skin.

Beth threw her head back and closed her eyes, letting her gesture speak for itself.

She could hear his breathing as he placed his hands on her hips beneath her gown. She was almost reclining against the door now, her back flat on the panel, her legs slightly apart, her gown lifted to her hips as he knelt before her.

Suddenly he was touching her over her pantaloons in the most intimate place, kissing her through the thin silk.

“Christian!” she gasped, her hips lifting of their own accord. His warm mouth continued, his tongue lashing at her through the material.

She writhed, her hands crushing the muslin gown, her breath harsh in her throat. It felt so sensual, so decadent.

Beth pressed forward, her hand finding the silk roughness of his hair as she pressed him forward, closer to her. Closer to her still.

A wave of passion broke across her and she gasped, her hips thrusting forward. Christian grabbed her hips and held her to him, driving her mad with a prolonged sensation as the feeling came and grew and flooded her through and through.

When it was done, she was panting and weak-kneed, her eyes rich with passion.

He stood and untied his breeches with one hand. Then, without warning, he lifted her, pushing her gown up about her waist. Before she knew what he was about, his arm snaked around her and he pressed her against the door. Clutching at his broad shoulder, she clasped her legs about him and she drew him forward.

His erection pressed against her, and she caught her lip between her teeth, shivering slightly at the firmness of him, a flicker of uncertainty attempting to invade the sensuality of the moment. But his mouth descended on hers and there was no more time for thinking. Passion overrode her fears. She tightened her legs and pressed herself down upon him, settling over his fullness a slow inch at a time.

Christian’s expression became strained, his hands tightening about her waist. Beth had never felt so many sensations at the same time. She
thought she might go mad any minute from the delight that flooded her.

There was a slight pressure and then, with a suddenness that caused her to cry out, he slid into her, deep and true. Beth gasped and threw back her head; she ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, frantically trying to pull him closer.

Christian’s breathing grew harsher, his breath stirring her hair at the temple. His hands tightened about her waist and he lifted her.

He moaned as she slid up. He held her there a moment, their breathing mingling. She stole a glance at his face. It was twisted with a mixture of pain and pleasure, his brow furrowed.

Some primal instinct gave her the strength to tighten her legs and she slid herself back down on him, enveloping him until he closed his eyes as if in pain and gasped her name.

The sight sent a flood of power through her. She was doing this to him, making him pant hungrily, making him desire her and no one else.

Together, they began to move. Each stroke, the motions flowed more smoothly, more powerfully. Heat began to build in Beth’s stomach and lower.

She was inanely aware of the most minute details; the feel of the cool wood of the door against her back, the heated pressure of his hands on her waist, the touch of his bared skin against her inner thighs.

The heat flared into a flame. Beth gasped with wonder as he lifted her over and over, filling her and then denying her with each move. Her thighs grew damp, her breathing ragged. It was as if a
hot coal had been planted deep within her and she could not get enough of the warmth, cling to it though she might.

Each stroke pressed her toward the heat, tantalizing and making her crazed with desire. Each withdrawal sent her back to the edge of madness and beyond.

Suddenly, her body clenched about him. She cried out his name, tightening her thighs around him, arching her back as pleasure flooded through her.

Christian never released her, nor did he stop thrusting into her. As her heart subsided to a more normal beat, she could hear his own breathing growing more labored, his actions more strained.

“Do you like that?” she whispered into his ear, her heart racing once again.

“God, Beth,” he managed to say through clenched teeth, his skin damp, his heart almost audible in the room. “Do it…again.”

She pushed herself up, clinging to his shoulders, then slid downward, upon his shaft.

Some imp of madness possessed her. She allowed him to lift her up again, but the second he did so, she clamped her legs tightly and threw herself down upon him as hard as she could.

This time Christian did more than gasp. He cried out, clasping her to him. She felt him inside her, heat flooding her as he curled his body into hers and he filled her with his passion.

Trembling and clinging to each other, they stayed where they were. Moments passed, yet they were unaware of them.

His breathing slowly, slowly returned to normal. Christian leaned forward, pressing her back against the door. He still supported her with both hands, though his forehead was now resting against hers, his heart thudding hard against her fingertips.

They clung to each other for long moments after that, too exhausted to move. Christian was leaning on his elbows against the door, his head bent against Beth’s, his skin damp where it touched hers.

Slowly, she unhooked her ankles where she’d crossed them at his waist and slid her legs to the ground. They immediately collapsed, but he caught her to him, laughing softly as he did so.

He swung her into his arms, kissing her neck, her cheek, her hair as he carried her to the settee. He sat and settled her in his lap, tugging her skirts into place with one hand, even as he held her tight with the other.

Christian pressed his lips to her forehead. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight. Her face was tilted toward his, her eyes closed so that her lashes were crescents on her high cheeks.

Her skin was smooth, flushed with passion, a faint sheen of perspiration moistening her skin. He bent forward and traced his lips over her cheek, welcoming the faint hint of heated salt.

She was so sensual, so vibrant. She smelled of life and lust, of laughter and the promise of something more. He sighed deeply and rubbed against the silk of her hair.

She opened her eyes and smiled. It was a luxuri
ous smile, that of a woman who had been deeply and thoroughly pleasured. Her arms tightened about his neck and she leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered against his skin. “I shall take that memory with me when we are done.”

His heart froze on his chest.
When we are done.
The words brought the reality of their situation back to him with a roaring crash.

He became aware of the weight of the miniature in his pocket, where it hung heavy and cold. He shivered and closed his eyes. He should ask to see the duke today. Now that Christian had the portrait, he was prepared to confront his enemy. It wasn’t the necklace, of course, but it had served one very important purpose—it had convinced Beth that Christian’s suspicions were valid. The duke might lie to Christian, but he would be hard pressed to lie to his own beloved granddaughter.

Christian rubbed his cheek against Beth’s hair. They sat silently, holding each other as if fearful to let go. The truth was, he
was
afraid. He’d come to care for Beth, and the thought of losing her, of being alone yet again—he buried his face in the corner of her neck and closed his eyes, fighting a wave of emotion so powerful it threatened to engulf him.

He didn’t want to lose her yet. They would face the truth tomorrow. Then, less muddled by passion, Christian would be able to do what he’d vowed to do so long ago.

Tomorrow he would return and, with Beth,
speak with the duke. Armed with the miniature, he would force the old man to tell the truth. And then…Christian pressed a kiss to Beth’s forehead and held her tighter. For now, he wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t—think beyond this moment.

How had this become so complicated? he wondered, feeling more disconsolate than ever before. How?

But inside his heart, he knew the truth. Somehow, Beth had slipped behind the barriers he’d so carefully erected about his heart.

Damn Reeves for being right yet again.

“C
hristian?”

He gave a deep sigh, and beneath her ear Beth could feel the rush of his breath. He placed his cheek against her hair.

“Yes?”

“Grandfather will wake soon.”

Again the sigh. “I know.”

But his arms did not loosen.

She closed her eyes and inhaled him, soaking in his warmth, luxuriating in his nearness. This time seemed so fragile. She wished they could stay like
this forever, cocooned from the outside world. But it was not to be.

She sighed and opened her eyes. She could just see the outline of Christian’s chin where he rested his cheek against her. “Christian?”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, a smile appearing when he caught her gaze. “Yes?”

“We must talk.”

His arms tightened.

“About Grandfather.”

“I know.” He leaned back against the settee, and loosened his hold a bit.

Beth sat upright. Her body still hummed, a glow warming her, head to toe. It was sad to have to discuss something painful right now, when she felt so close to him, so intimate. But it had to be. Grandfather could wake and come into the room at any moment.

“I must rise.” She went to stand, but Christian’s arm remained firmly in place.

“No.” He pulled her closer, sinking his face into the warmth of her neck. “I want you here. At least for now.”

“I want to be here, too. But Grandfather might come in at any time and find us.”

“What will he do to us? Force us to marry?”

Oh. Yes. She grinned. “I never thought of that.” She sighed happily and settled back against him. “I suppose we can talk from here. As much as I hate to admit it, there is something afoot here. I do not like that I’m losing our wager.”

His humor faded and he looked at her with a
very serious expression. “Beth, there is no wager. Your grandfather is the man I have been seeking.”

“No,” Beth said thoughtfully. “All you found was a miniature of your mother in his desk. That is evidence that he knew her, not that he is responsible for giving false proof and sending her to gaol.”

“It is enough for me. Added to the statement from the priest who attended my mother in gaol and her own letters…That is a formidable amount of information.”

“It still doesn’t point to any one person in particular. Christian, you are making conclusions with very little proof. That gives me a point in our wager.”

His jaw hardened. “You are wrong. And soon, you will see that you are.”

She traced a line down his jaw, kissing his chin. “May I see the miniature again? I didn’t have a chance to admire it properly.”

He fished it out of his pocket, his expression grim.

Beth’s fingers closed over the cool, ivory edges. She looked at the portrait for a long time. “She was lovely.”

“More than you know.”

“It’s a wonderful portrait. You look just like her.”

“Thank you.”

“But what I can’t see is where this miniature says—beyond all doubt—that my grandfather betrayed your mother.” She peered closely, then flipped it over and examined the back. “I don’t see it written on here anywhere. And even if it
was, unless we knew who had written it and why, it wouldn’t be valid.”

His hand closed over hers, curling her fingers around the miniature. “Beth, name one good reason why your grandfather would have a miniature of my mother. Just one.”

The edges of the small portrait were rounded and smooth beneath her fingers. She bit her lip, her mind racing. “He could have known her when she was a child and been fond of her. Or perhaps he—he found it in an antique store and it appealed to him. Or he bought it at an auction and—”

His arms tightened. “That is nothing but conjecture and you know it.”

“So is your theory about this portrait.” She reached up and cupped Christian’s face, running her thumb over his firm chin. “We have to ask him. It is the only way to find out what happened, how he knows your mother.”

“I planned on it. Tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

Christian’s arms tightened about her. “I have things to do before I am ready for that. I will return first thing in the morning and we will ask him then.”

She smiled and nodded, though in truth, it didn’t make her happy at all. They were about to accuse Grandfather of something horrible. Yet there was no other way. “Very well, then. We will meet with him tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Since that is settled, perhaps I can importune you to spend a little time with me today.”

“Oh! Do you have another clue for us to pursue?”

“No. This doesn’t have anything to do with my mother. I just thought it would be nice if we could go for a ride. Just you and me.”

Beth raised her brows. “Just us? But…why?”

To her surprise, his cheeks reddened a bit. “Can’t I ask my fiancée out for a ride without being quizzed as if I’d requested a rum toddy at eleven-thirty in the morning?”

Beth laughed. “Yes! Of course you can. I was just—I didn’t realize what you meant.” Oddly pleased, she looked down at her crumpled gown. “I will need to change.”

He kissed her nose. “Of course. And so will I. Shall I return at six?”

“That would be lovely.”

Christian nodded, savoring her smile even as his emotions roiled. He had wished for this confrontation—had dreamed of facing his mother’s betrayer his entire life. But not now. Despite himself, uncertainty began to creep through him. Not about the duke. Christian was certain he’d found his man. But damn it, why couldn’t they have found the sapphire necklace? The one bit of incontrovertible proof there was.

But even that would have caused heartache. He pulled Beth close once more and rubbed his cheek to the silk of her hair. In a moment, he would let her go. He would return home and wait for this evening. Then, tomorrow, he would force her grandfather to confess his duplicity. After that…He gritted his teeth. Using every ounce of strength he possessed, he gently set Beth aside and stood, fastening his breeches and straightening his clothes.

She made no move to follow suit, but sat watching him, her dark eyes lingering on his every move, her gown and hair adorably mussed.

“I must go.” He managed a brief smile, though his heart ached as if someone had sliced it with a knife.

“I know.” She picked up a pillow and hugged it to her. “I will see you at six.”

He winked at her, and was halfway to the door when her voice reached him.

“Christian?”

He paused, his hands fisted now at his sides.

“What will you do if you discover it was indeed Grandfather?”

Christian could not look at her. Instead, he opened his hand and looked at the miniature. It was still warm from Beth’s clasp; the silky feel of her hair still lingered on his fingertips. But as much as he loved Beth, he owed his mother this. “I cannot answer that.”

“I see.” Her voice was husky with emotion. “Then…what about us, Christian?”

The words sliced through him. He grimaced, clenching his jaw.

Slowly, he curled his fingers back into a fist and straightened. “I will see you this evening.”

With that, he let himself out of the room and walked away. From where she sat on the couch, Beth hugged the pillow tighter, staring at the door with unseeing eyes that were now bright with tears.

Beth cut a rose and laid it in the basket on her arm. As the afternoon wore on, clouds had roiled
in, the wind blowing harshly, tossing her skirts and tugging at her basket. The wind pulled at her hair, too, and the curls Annie had so carefully pinned were in dire danger of coming loose. Beth lifted her face to the wind and let it tumble over her.

She wished Christian would hurry; she wanted to discuss the miniature with him some more, suggest some other places in the house to look for clues. Find
something
to avert the meeting between Christian and Grandfather. Though she knew it had to occur, she couldn’t help but feel that she needed that one bit of missing evidence that might right this mess and make it all just go away.

That was what she wanted. She thought of when she’d asked Christian what would happen if his suspicions were correct. There had been a cold, almost hopeless tone to his voice. As for what would happen to her and Christian…

She closed her eyes and let the wind buffet against her, clearing the cobwebs from her mind.

What would Grandfather do when Christian taxed him with the miniature? Would he confess? Did he have anything to confess to? Or would it ignite a scene of another kind?

Beth rubbed a hand over her eyes. Each and every time she came back with the same thing—Christian was right. Grandfather had
something
to do with his mother’s incarceration.

And yet…she could not reconcile herself to the fact he was wholly responsible. A dull ache pressed against her forehead, her thoughts as black as the clouds gathering overhead. In addition to thinking about Grandfather, Beth hadn’t
been able to stop remembering her time with Christian. There was something between them—a raw passion that transcended everything else.

She loved him. Deeply. Richly. With all her heart. It was funny, but she’d always thought such a passion would be giddy and earth-shattering. Instead it was steady and deep, a thick certainty upon which one could stand. She loved him but…did
he
love
her
? There were times when she thought she’d caught a flash of warmth in his eyes that went far beyond mere friendship. But what else could it be?

It was all so confusing, so frustrating. There was Christian and his quest, Grandfather and his secrets, and—

“Beth?”

Beth turned to find Charlotte standing on the terrace, arms crossed to ward off the wind. “What are you doing out in this weather? It’s about to storm.”

“I know.” Beth bent and cut one more flower, then placed the knife and the rose in her basket. She had about two dozen; enough for a nice centerpiece for the mahogany dining table.

Thunder rumbled overhead, the wind rustling restlessly. Beth gathered her skirts and joined Charlotte on the terrace. They went inside together.

Charlotte bent to smell a rose. “Those are lovely.”

“I thought we might make an arrangement for the table.” Beth set down the basket and removed her gardening gloves.

She laid them in the basket over the knife and went to the mirror over the fireplace to right her hair. “Oh dear! I look like Medusa.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s so bad,” Charlotte said, tilting her head to one side and smiling nervously. “All you need is a hairpin here and a hairpin there and it will be good as new.”

Outside, thunder cracked, rattling the windows. Charlotte jumped, her hand rising to her throat.

“That was a bit abrupt,” Beth said. Her stepmama seemed even more nervous than usual. “You never liked storms. I remember you used to be terrified.”

Charlotte absently rubbed her arms as she looked out the window at the rapidly darkening sky. “I have always hated them. Your father used to get very impatient with me for that. He loved storms.”

“Yes, and would stand out on the terrace and get soaking wet sometimes. I always wondered how he kept from getting struck by lightning.”

Charlotte nodded absently.

Beth smoothed her hair where the wind had tousled it, her mind going back through the conversation she’d heard while under the desk with Christian. Charlotte knew whatever it was Grandfather was hiding. But why would Grandfather have confessed anything to Charlotte? He thought her a nitwit and worse.

Charlotte had to have stumbled upon the information by accident. It was the only explanation. It would explain why Grandfather was forever worrying she was not taking her medicine—because
he feared she might tell something she’d discovered.

Beth began to feel ill. There was so much she didn’t know. So many secrets that seemed to be lurking. With all her heart, she did not want to believe that Christian was right.

Thunder crashed, lightning blinded Beth for a moment. Charlotte cried out and covered her eyes.

Beth went to Charlotte and put an arm about her thin shoulders. The older woman’s skin was hot to the touch. Beth frowned. “Come. Sit down. I’ll call for some tea and—”

“No,” Charlotte said, her chin firm, though she trembled head to toe. “It is time I was not afraid.”

Beth smiled. “Good for you! You will see that there is nothing to hurt you here. Shall I get you some ratafia? Perhaps that would be better.”

“Yes. I would like that.”

Beth went to pour her stepmother a glass of ratafia. She carried it to Charlotte, waiting until her stepmama had taken a few sips and was steadier. “Charlotte, may I ask you something?”

Eyes still on the dark sky outside, Charlotte nodded absently.

“Did you know my fiancé’s mother?”

Charlotte’s eyes widened just as a huge strike of lightning flashed. In the blinding light, Beth saw Charlotte’s white and terrified face.

Beth instinctively took her stepmother’s arm, but Charlotte jerked free, dropping the glass as she backed to the doorway. “Stay away from me!”

Beth blinked. “Charlotte! I just asked if you knew—”

“No! Just stop it!” Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth. “You cannot say that woman’s name. Bennington says—” She pressed her fingers over her mouth. “I won’t do it.”

Bennington? Beth hadn’t thought of him, but he had been quite a close friend of Father’s. The rather somber lord also could have used the Massingale coach. It was not unlikely, for the lord frequently used it if he rode to the house and the weather turned abrupt, as it was now. Beth’s heart quickened. Was this it? Was Bennington the missing link between Christian’s mother and Massingale House?

Beth placed a calming hand on Charlotte’s arm. “What does Bennington say, Charlotte? What does he have to do with…the lady I mentioned?”

“Nothing. He and your grandfather, they don’t like to hear of her. Every time I say her name, they yell at me and make me take more medicine.” Charlotte shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “I am not going to do that anymore, Beth. The medicine isn’t good for me. It makes me sleep and sleep and I cannot think and all sorts of things.”