More Than a Lover (12 page)

Leaning his left forearm on the sofa for balance, he skimmed his hand down her arm and then across her breast. Felt the peak of the hard nipple, felt her arch into his hand, filling it with the plump flesh hidden beneath her chemise and stays.

‘You undo me,' he murmured softly, cradling her face in his one good hand, the skin soft and silky beneath it.

She sighed, looking deep into his eyes. ‘I promised myself this would not happen again.'

The words wounded even as he recognised the sense of defeat she suffered. He had no desire to cause her pain. He, too, had promised.

It cost him, but he uttered the words he knew he must say. ‘Shall I go?'

The second of hesitation felt like a lifetime. She shook her head. ‘I want you to stay.'

He took her in his arms and kissed her, slowly, lingeringly. Feeling her melt against him was the sweetest thing he had ever known. The most precious gift he had ever been given. Until these past two days she'd been true to her husband's memory, and for all that man's lack of skill, she must have loved him to have remained alone. Thus this gift was precious beyond words.

His heart seemed too large for his chest. Words he should not speak hovered on his tongue. Love. Marriage. Foolish things that only a man of honour should offer a woman. A man of honour would not be doing this. Instead he'd be courting her properly. Offering her a future.

So he kissed her. Hot. Deeply. Pressed her back against the sofa, shifting her bodily, so she lay along its length. He raised his head to look down into her eyes, seeking permission.

The half-smile on her lips was pure invitation.

‘Caro,' he murmured.

‘Hush,' she whispered, pressing a fingertip to his lips. He nipped at it and she laughed low in her throat. ‘I need you.'

As he needed her. He would never have enough of her. Even drunk as he was on her scent, her touch, the thought sobered. What was he doing? He should leave before this thing between them got out of hand yet again. Then he felt her hand burrow between them and her fingers curl around him and gently squeeze.

The pleasure was almost too much.

Awkwardly balancing himself on his forearm, he reached down, captured her small hand in his and brought it up over her head and pinned it there. ‘Not so fast,' he growled.

‘We certainly don't want that to go to waste.' Her eyes glinted with mischief. She looked like the girl he remembered all those years ago, bright, happy, then on the cusp of womanhood, now a woman full grown. Except shadows remained in those dancing eyes that had never been there when she was a girl.

The sadness of loss.

He rocked his groin against her soft thigh and the pleasure of it rippled across his skin. Not quite so intense. Manageable, at least, and he nuzzled his lips against the rise of her soft full breasts. ‘Give me your other hand,' he rasped.

She complied, lifting it languidly above her head so he could enclose her wrist beside the other one. ‘No moving.' He let her go and worked her skirts up her thighs until he had her bared to his view.

She was lovely. The chestnut curls invited his touch and he petted and stroked. He slid a finger along her pink feminine flesh and closed his eyes in pleasure at the heat and the wet he found waiting for him.

He lowered his head.

Chapter Nine

C
aro gazed down the length of her torso to where her skirts were rucked at her waist in a sensual haze. All she could see were the crisp waves of Blade's light-brown hair, where he knelt between her open thighs, and a glimpse of the pale skin of one of those thighs pressed against the cushion of the sofa.

He shifted downward and her heart skipped a beat. Surely he wasn't going to—? She lifted one hand to— What? Push him away?

‘Hush,' he murmured and pressed hot open-mouthed kisses against the little hollow of her naked hip. It felt wonderful. Delicious. Tormenting. She let her hand drop beside the other above her head and felt...worshipped as his mouth trailed kisses across her stomach.

And lower.

And lower still.

His tongue licked a path along her and she swallowed a cry of pleasure. Yet she could not stop herself from raising her hips to give him better access. He licked again and she melted, her body feeling loose and disjointed, yet unbearably tense. It was heavenly. And extraordinary. And not at all respectable, she was sure.

She looked down again and he was looking at her, his gaze hot and wild, with a smile on his lips so devastatingly boyish she wanted to kiss him. Badly. He raised an eyebrow in question.
Did she like this?
She nodded, letting her head fall back, resigning herself with great joy to the next round of delicious torture.

She was not disappointed.

His lips and tongue and fingers did things to her she could never have imagined any man doing, and she moaned and writhed and sighed until she was dizzy with a passion so vast it hurt to contain it.

‘Blade,' she said, finally giving in to his demand and begging for what she knew she needed.

‘Caro,' he said softly, and he used his fingers and tongue on that little point hidden deep in her folds to send her over the edge into mindless bliss. Before the shudders and ripples of pleasure had subsided, he came over her, supporting himself each side of her shoulders on the cushions.

‘Hold on,' he grated as he unerringly entered her body and thrust himself into her to the hilt.

She'd been wrong to think he had brought her to the peak of pleasure, for now it built again to a height that left her panting and answering his thrusts with undulations of her hips as he drove deeper and harder. She cradled his face in her hands and saw the strain in his expression, the utter concentration as he brought them so close to the brink she couldn't think. Seared by heat and driven by need, she forced herself up on her elbows and kissed him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she suckled.

He drew back, panting, his lips drawn back in the agony of denial. ‘I can't— Now, Caro,' he demanded. ‘My darling. Now. Come with me.'

Her insides tightened at the harshness of his voice and the utter pleasure on his face, and her vision darkened as with one last drive of his hips he pushed her over the edge into heart-stopping bliss. He withdrew from her body, and with one last pump of his hips, he groaned and went still, collapsing against her, careful not to crush her beneath him, his arm around her shoulders as he stroked her cheek, her jaw, her throat, the rise of her breast.

She drifted into warm darkness.

* * *

When she came awake he was lying on his side.

‘I fell asleep,' she said, wondering.

‘You did.' He smiled at her, his eyes warm.

‘I should—I mean we should—get up.'

He twined a strand of her hair that had come loose around one finger. ‘Caro, sweetheart, will you—?' He hesitated. ‘I think—'

She froze. Panic rocketed through her mind at what he might be trying to say. She shook her head. ‘There is nothing to be said.'

His lips smiled, but his eyes filled with an emotion she could not read. ‘As you say, but still—' he lightly brushed her lips with his ‘—I do thank you.'

He got up, straightened his clothes and left.

Full of regret, for herself, for him, she rose and locked the door behind him.

* * *

An hour later, after making some pretence at working on her correspondence while she settled her nerves and let cold fresh air from the window clear the air in her parlour, she rang for Beth to take the tray.

The woman had tried the door earlier but, finding it locked, had gone away. Caro had recognised her step, though for one painful moment had wondered if it was Blade returning.

He would not return now.

She did not know what he had been going to say, but she did know she'd hurt him by refusing to listen. Perhaps that was an end to it. That would be a good thing surely, even if the thought of him turning his back on her made her stomach churn and her heart feel heavy. He presented far too much temptation for her wanton desires. Too much allure, for he was what she had always dreamed of as a girl. A handsome noble knight who would leave his life of service to his king and serve only his lady.

Foolish nonsense, of course, brought on by reading too much romance, her father would have said. As he had always predicted, it had led her astray. And yet wasn't life a little more pleasant with a dash of romance? Her mother's life would have been, she was sure. Where were her family now? she wondered. Still in that little village not far from Worthing? Was her sister married? With children? There was no way to know, not without bringing the wrath of her father down on their heads.

She once more checked her hair in the mirror as well as ensured her gown showed no signs of disarray and seated herself at her writing table.

Barely in time, too.

‘You are finished with the tray?' Beth asked.

Caro smiled her assent.

She glanced at the clock, a little surprised Thomas hadn't made his afternoon foray to find her.

‘Where is Tommy?'

‘Went for a walk, mum,' Beth said, giving her a little curtsy. ‘To the duck pond with the new girl.' Beth glanced at the clock and frowned. ‘I told them not to be more than an hour.'

‘When did they leave?'

‘Not long after I took her up to the nursery. Two hours ago that be.'

It seemed their new addition to the house had no idea of the passage of time. ‘I expect Tommy has found some playmates and she may be having trouble convincing him to leave. I'll go and find them.'

‘Reet you are, ma'am.' Her eyes held worry. ‘I did tell the lad I'd skelp him good, did he not behave. He promised me.'

‘Then his punishment will be all the more severe for breaking his word,' she said, heading for the corridor to the back door, where she kept her warm woollen cloak and an old black bonnet for her forays in the streets. One did not go to the poorer parts of town dressed in Sunday finery.

‘Should I let Mr Read know you are going out?' Beth asked. ‘Made it very clear you was not to go unescorted by him or Ned.'

‘I'm only going as far as the green,' she said. ‘And Linette and Tommy will escort me back.'

Beth looked dubious, but said nothing more.

* * *

Blade morosely watched Ned grooming Apollo. He'd ridden out after he'd left Caro, needing to clear his head. To think about what he was doing with a woman, another woman, who wanted him merely for a little dalliance. Why had he thought her different? Or that he could persuade her that perhaps he was worth more? He wasn't. He'd ruined himself for any chance of a career. His erstwhile commanding officer would see to that. He had no stable income. Not even a name worth the mention. Not to mention those other declarations women wanted. Love and devotion. All that claptrap that faded over time. He'd seen it time and time again or why would married women seek to dally with the likes of him? Even his mother's love had died a death when it no longer suited her to have him around. He was not such a hypocrite to speak words he did not believe.

Why had he even let her tempt him? He was the one supposed to be the seducer, yet he found himself thoroughly seduced. By a woman who didn't want him.

His excuse to leave the house had been his need to track down Butterworth. Or rather, to ensure that his suspicions were unfounded and that the unpleasant fellow had left the neighbourhood permanently.

And so he had. There had been no sign of him at any of the other three inns in town, leaving Blade exactly where he'd started. Wondering who might have meant Caro harm up on the moors.

He rose as the person at the centre of his thoughts entered the barn in haste. Her pallor and anxious expression caused his gut to tighten. ‘Is something wrong?'

She cast him a look of anguish. ‘Tommy's gone.'

‘Gone where?'

‘I don't know.' Tears welled. Impatiently she blinked them away. ‘He went with Linette to feed the ducks while we...while we—'

A glance out of the stable door showed dusk rapidly approaching. He pulled her into one of the empty loose boxes, out of Ned's earshot before she said something he knew she would regret.

‘We will go and fetch them home since they are late,' he said.

‘I went. They aren't there.'

Anger rushed up from his belly. ‘You went? Alone? Have you no care—?'

She brushed his words aside with an impatient hand. ‘The duck pond, Blade. Two streets from here. And I am safely back, but Tommy isn't there.' Panic filled her voice.

He kept his own voice calm, matter-of-fact. ‘You are sure you did not miss them on your way? That he is not safely in his room?'

‘If he was do you think I would be here?' she hissed. ‘I am not a fool.'

He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘No, you are not. Does Tommy know his way back from the duck pond?'

‘I don't know. He has been there many of times, but he's barely eight years old. He could easily have got turned around, and as far as I know, Linette has never been there before.'

‘Do we even know they arrived there?'

She stared at him, shook her head and swallowed. ‘No,' she whispered.

‘Then we search from both ends. Ned will follow all possible routes to the pond and we will go to the green and work our way outwards.'

She licked her lips. ‘Do you think Linette...?'

‘I don't think anything but that they have missed their way. Wait here.'

She clutched at his sleeve. ‘Where are you going?'

‘I need a moment to prepare.'

‘There's no time.'

‘Five minutes,' he said. ‘It is getting dark. I need my pistol.'

She winced, then nodded, releasing him.

He raised his voice. ‘Ned, with me.' Up in his room in the loft, he armed himself, while he told his man what he knew.

His worry, that the young hotheads who talked of taking action might have seen this as their chance to wreak havoc on the government they hated, didn't make sense. All the talk he'd heard in the inns had been of marching against the barracks, against the soldiers and militia involved in Peterloo. He could not see them kidnapping a child who was only peripherally connected to Tonbridge.

If the lad wasn't simply lost, then it was more likely the abbess and her minions out for revenge. Out to take the girl back. She was a very pretty girl and he would not put it past the woman's greed to want her cake and eat it too. If so, Tommy was simply collateral damage. Cold filled his gut at the thought of what that might mean for the boy. It could mean his death, or it could mean something worse. Young boys were as valuable as pretty young girls, perhaps more so, to some. Or they might simply return him or abandon him, fearing Tonbridge's wrath. How he hoped it was the latter.

He ran down the wooden ladder with Ned close on his heels.

Caro looked ready to tear his throat out. ‘What took you so long?'

‘Ned, scour the streets close by,' he ordered. ‘Work your way towards the green. If you come across street sweepers or vendors, ask them about the girl with a little boy. Especially ask the men. She's a beauty.'

Ned nodded and ran off.

‘We will take the route you usually use with Tommy,' he said.

‘I searched that way already.'

‘This time we will ask if anyone saw them. We must discover if they arrived or not.'

She closed her eyes briefly and took his arm.

Inwardly he cursed. So many hours had elapsed since the boy had left home, it might be impossible to find anyone who had been on the street at that time.

The sweeper on the corner, an old man with rheumy eyes and clawed hands, stared at them blankly. They moved on, but no one had seen either the girl or the child and they reached the green no further ahead.

Two boys were throwing pebbles in the pond. He strode towards them.

‘They were not here when I came a few minutes ago,' Caro said.

‘Lads come and go and return betimes.'

On his approach the boys dropped their pebbles, which they had been clearly skimming at the ducks that were racing about in a mad flutter. He glared at them.

‘We weren't hitting them,' the bigger boy said defiantly.

‘You were one of the lads playing cricket last time we were here,' Blade said.

The lad nodded.

‘The little boy who was with us, he joined you for a while. Have you seen him this afternoon?'

Both boys shook their heads.

‘You do remember him, though?' Caro asked.

‘Right gradely lad,' the younger boy said. ‘Fetched the ball for us.'

‘He's lost. He was supposed to come here with his nursemaid, but they didn't come home. We think they might have missed the way. If you see him, will you bring him to Sixty-Five Bleaker Street, please?'

Her voice was heartbreakingly steady. She was barely holding on.

‘The whore haven for sluts and their bastards?' the older boy said, curling his lip.

Caro winced.

‘Watch your language, lad,' Blade growled at him, angry for Caro and for the maligned women.

‘That's what my ma calls it,' the boy said, shrugging.

Blade glared at him. ‘Never mind that. It is the boy we are concerned about. Your mother wouldn't see an innocent child left to come to harm, would she?'