Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (15 page)

Just then, the captain of the ship, Colin Clinch
joined them.  He was a tall man in his early thirties, with the tanned skin and
muscled body of a sea captain, albeit a particularly well-spoken one.  He also
had a jagged scar down the left side of his face, but was a handsome man
despite the disfigurement.  On her journey from America, Mel had seen any
number of women throw themselves at the captain.  The scar seemed to only add
to the attraction.  No doubt they saw him as a man of action and adventure, not
to mention a mysterious one.  Captain Clinch said little about his past, so it
was up to ladies with romantical notions to fill in the missing pieces.  Mel
had heard every theory from the one where he was a pirate in disguise to his
being the well-born son in an aristocratic family forced to make his own way in
the world.

All Mel knew was that the captain kindly provided
them with invaluable assistance. She would always be grateful to him.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Miss Sutton,”
said Captain Clinch, as he bowed over her hand, his lips just brushing her
knuckles.”

“And who is this?” asked Hal, continuing to show
little of the charm for which he was famous.

“Lord Henry,” said Mel coolly, “permit me to
introduce you to Captain Clinch.  He transports our ladies to America and was
ever so kind to me when I made the journey to England.”

“I’m sure he was,” said Hal, eyeing the captain who
was, himself, eyeing Melanie.

Parker stepped between Mel and Clinch.  “Thank you
again, Captain.  Do be so kind as to send word if your plans change.”

“Of course,” said Clinch, as he bowed to them.  “If
you will excuse me, I must speak to the harbor master.”

With another glance toward Mel, the captain
sauntered off down the docks.

“Prat,” muttered Hal.

“Quite,” murmured Parker.  “Now, Melanie shall we be
off?”

Hal reluctantly gave Parker a ride to Mitchell
House, only to spare Mel the journey by hack.  Had it been possible, he
would’ve taken Mel and left Parker to his own devices.  As it was, he sat next
to Mel on the seat, close enough that their thighs touched.  But that only
seemed to drive him mad, as she sat blithely visiting with Parker, reminiscing
about people Hal didn’t know and wished to the devil.

They finally pulled up to Mitchell House, but
instead of simply dropping them off, Hal insisted on accompanying them inside. 
He wasn’t sure why he was prolonging his misery, but he didn’t want to leave
Mel alone with the American. 

Their arrival caused something of an uproar.

Lydia Robinson, the resident courtesan in search of
a partner, took one look at both of the men and immediately set her sights on
each of them.  Angela Evans, who was resting before a performance at the
theatre later that night took it upon herself to walk the halls wearing only
her dressing gown.

“Good day, my lord,” she said to Hal, curtsying at
such an angle that her breasts were in danger of falling out of the gown and
perhaps even hitting the floor.  “I believe I have seen you at the theatre,
have I not?”

Probably backstage in a compromising
position
, thought Hal with a grimace.  He bowed over her hand. 
“I am a fan of the theatre, though I have not attended a performance in quite
some time.”

“A pity,” said Angela, slightly swaying her hips from
side to side.  “You must come backstage and see me when you next attend.”

“Tell us, Mr. Parker,” said Lydia breathlessly, “do
you really mean to stay at Mitchell House?  I do not believe we have ever had
such a grand guest.”  

“And I am afraid we are keeping him from resting,”
said Anne Cartwright with a shy smile as she entered the room.  As usual, when
she met new people, she kept the left side of her face slightly averted, since
that had the worst scars.  “Your room is ready, sir.  I am sure you must be
tired after your long voyage.  Angela, the time is growing late.  I am sure you
do not wish to be late to the theatre.  And Lydia, I believe you had an
appointment at the dressmaker.”

“That can wait,” said Lydia, with a smile for both
men.

“Are you really so certain?” asked Anne.  “I believe
Madame Fournier is most particular about her appointments.  You wouldn’t want
her to give your gown to someone else, would you?”

Lydia was clearly torn, but the new gown eventually
won out.  “Until later, my lord, Mr. Parker.”  With one last look over her
shoulder she quit the room, leaving only Melanie, the two men and Anne.

“That was nicely done of you, Anne,” said Melanie. 
“I’m not sure either of them would have given Mr. Parker or Lord Henry any
peace if they’d stayed.  Although, it must be difficult for Angela and Lydia to
think of men as anything other than…”  Here she colored in spite of herself.

“Potential customers?” supplied Anne with a small
smile.  “I’m afraid one does get rather used to it as the means to survival. 
Perhaps Mr. Parker would be more comfortable elsewhere.”

Melanie seemed to agree.  “As I said, Richard, you
could stay at my aunt and uncle’s.”

“He’ll be fine here,” said Hal.

“Yes, I shall,” said Richard.  “I wouldn’t want to
impose on the Earl and Countess.  Plus, Mitchell House is located close to
those areas where I might do the most good and I’m sure Mrs. Cartwright is an
excellent housekeeper.”

Anne blushed at the compliment.  “May I show you to your
room, Mr. Parker?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cartwright.”  

At that, he followed her upstairs to his bedchamber,
leaving Melanie alone with Hal.

“I’m afraid Richard shall have to bolt the door
tonight against the advances of Lydia and Angela,” said Melanie.  “They’re dear
girls, but can be quite determined.”

“He may want to nail the window shut as well,”
agreed Hal, who’d stepped closer to her now that they were alone.  “I can’t
like that the man suddenly showed up in London completely unannounced.  It
seems most havey cavey to me.”

“I am sure it is nothing of the kind.”

“You are far too trusting.  What is this Parker to
you, anyway?”

“As I told you before,” she said, as she took a step
away from him, “he is a dear friend and my compatriot in this mission.”

“He could be your ‘dear friend’ just as easily in
Philadelphia.  What made him get on a ship and travel across an ocean to see
you?”

“You would have to ask him,” she said, moving
further away and wondering why the room seemed to have grown smaller just by
the presence of Hal Kellington.

“You have no curiosity about it yourself?  Is it not
odd that he would make this trip now?  Your aunt and cousin already suspect his
motives.”

“They do not suspect his motives.  They simply
believe he may have a romantical interest in me.”

That made Hal close the difference between them. 
“Is that what you wish?  Do you want to return to America with your Mr.
Parker?”

Mel was just about to tell him it was no concern of
his, when he closed the sitting room doors then pulled her toward him.  The
kiss he gave her quickly became so all encompassing she thought surely they
would erupt in flames.  Her fingers were once again in his hair and Hal’s hands
were exploring her body.

He backed her up to the chaise, then gently laid her
down beneath him.  She knew this was madness.  Anne and Richard might walk in
on them at any moment, but the weight of him on her felt so divine that she
couldn’t find it in her to tell him to get off.  She couldn’t find the breath
to say anything.

One of his hands was on her thigh and was slowly
pulling her skirts up.  She knew she should say something, but couldn’t figure
out what it should be, other than “Faster.”

She moved one of her hands down his muscled back and
wished she could remove his jacket.  She craved the feel of his skin.  She
couldn’t believe how good it felt to be held by him.  Kissed by him.  Wanted by
him.  She’d always wondered why women could give themselves up to the sins of
the flesh.  But now she had a fairly good idea how easily it could happen.

*                    *                    *

Hal was only vaguely aware of where they were and
what he was doing with the virginal niece of the Earl of Heffner.  Anyone could
walk in on them and he would be honor bound to offer marriage.  But he didn’t
care about anything other than being able to continue kissing her and touching
her just as he was doing.  What he really wanted to do was bury himself inside
her and not come out for a week.  Or longer.

She had the softest skin, and curves which were
molded for his body.  He’d fallen asleep the previous night thinking about the kiss
they’d shared in the alley.  He’d been offered any number of sexual delights by
two experienced prostitutes the evening before.  But all he’d wanted was more
of the woman he could not have. 

He thought about what it would be like to take
Melanie against the wall, with her legs wrapped around him.  He wanted her on
top of him, her breasts bouncing with his every thrust.  He groaned to think of
her lips on his cock, sucking harder and harder until he couldn’t control the
release of his seed.  Of course, he could never do any of that with her even if
they did marry.  She was a lady.  Having sex with a lady wife was gentle,
mostly clothed and according to schedule.  In short, it was everything he
didn’t want.

He realized his hand was underneath her skirts,
sliding up bare, silken thigh.  He slid his fingers over the fine muslin of her
drawers then through the slit.  He’d kept her so distracted with his kisses –
and she’d been keeping him enthralled with her wandering hands – that she
hadn’t quite figured out what his fingers were doing.  But as he reached the
crest of her nestled in the soft hair that was soaked with her arousal, she
suddenly stilled.  She didn’t even breathe.  Nor did she tell him to stop.

He took that as a good sign.

As he stroked, he kissed her ear, sliding his tongue
down the whorls as he moved his fingers.  He pressed one inside of her.  She
was so tight he felt a corresponding squeeze around his cock.  She grew
restless beneath him.  He began moving one finger in and out of her, as his
hand stroked her clitoris.  She bucked beneath him.  The heat of her movement
spurred him on.  He added another finger inside her as he continued to press
against her and she bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud.

His hand was wet and he was so completely attuned to
her that he could smell her arousal.  He wanted to bury his face between her
legs, drink in her essence until she exploded.  But there was no time for
that.  He thrust both fingers in as he pressed his hand to her.  He was just
able to capture her scream with his mouth.  And he was barely able to keep from
spilling his seed in his breeches, but it was a very near thing. 

For a moment, they lay there entwined together. 
They were both breathing hard.  His body was still humming with desire, but he
had an odd satisfaction, as well.  To hold her as she experienced her climax,
to help her reach the crest had been one of the most erotic experiences of his
life.  And he’d had no shortage of experiences.  All he could think about was
how quickly they could repeat the process, but perhaps with a bit more participation
from him the next time.

She opened her eyes and he realized he wanted to
know her reaction.  He hoped she wouldn’t be missish.  And he hoped even more
that she wouldn’t demand marriage.  As a gentleman, he should, of course,
offer.  But he wasn’t yet ready to give up his freedom, even if she would make
a better wife than any other woman of his acquaintance.

She opened her eyes and a slow smile curved her
lips.  She reached up to kiss him and he was only too happy to oblige.  But
then they heard Parker and Anne walking downstairs and it was as if both of
them came to their senses at the same moment.

“Oh!” she said, as her cheeks flooded with color and
she almost bucked him off her in an effort to stand.  “I must…we must.”

She was on her feet, smoothing her skirts back into
place.  She ran to a mirror and tried to fix her hair, which was hopelessly and
quite delightfully mussed.  As Hal slowly brought himself to rights – and
prayed his jacket would mostly conceal his aching erection – he thought with
some satisfaction that he had been the one to bring her to climax and not that
dry stick Richard Parker. 

It was most suspicious that he’d come all the way to
England.  Something about the man was off.  No reform leader looked that
presentable.  He should have a pasty white complexion from spending so much
time indoors doing good deeds and studying the Bible or whatever else it was
that reformers did.   

But this Parker was tanned from being in the sun. 
Moreover, it looked like he spent time as a pugilist, which was hardly
befitting a reformer.  Granted, he wasn’t a man of the cloth.  But Melanie
certainly fawned over him as if he were a saint on earth.

Hal knew better than most that saints did not
exist.  Every man liked to engage in sin on occasion.  He had a feeling this
Richard Parker fellow engaged as often as he could.  He’d just better not try
anything with Melanie.