One Whisper Away (37 page)

The second try was much, much better.

So he relented and told her about the magic.

And then managed to coax out a third kiss.

 

T
he sound of labored breathing matched perfectly with the rising wind rattling the pane of the window. “It’s going to storm.” Cecily smoothed a lock of hair from her husband’s brow, not sure in the aftermath of such acute pleasure whether she was able to do more than lazily let her lashes drift down.

She
was
tired.

Pleasantly so.

His erection still impressively rigid inside her, Jonathan kissed one brow, then the other, and murmured softly. “I think the storm has passed, but perhaps it will resurface again.”

“It sounds to me like it is approaching,” she said dubiously, the thunder getting louder.

He nibbled on her earlobe. “I meant here in our bed.”

How could she not laugh? And shiver. He was above her
, in
her, and their physical union aside, such a part of her that she couldn’t imagine life without him.

She looked into his dark eyes. “Promise me again that you do not regret not returning to America as you planned.”

“We’ll go there soon enough.” His mouth did beguiling things to the pulse point at the hollow of her throat. “After our child is born. I have matters to bring to a conclusion here, and trust me, I am content. The definition of
home
has taken on a new meaning, my love. I thought it was a place. I was wrong.”

“How so?” Languid against him, she touched his hair, those ebony strands decadently long and brushing his shoulders.

“If you and Addie and our coming child are safe and with me,
that
is home.”

It wasn’t as if she disagreed. Her pregnancy was now confirmed. And at this moment, in the tangled linens of their bed, with streaks of lightning in the distance, she wanted to be nowhere else but in his arms, whether in England or America.

“She’s excited about the baby.”

“Addie? Yes, she is. She wants a baby brother. She asks me every day when
he
will get here.”

“And you?”

“Give me a healthy child and a safe delivery and I will be a happy man.”

“Are you worried about Lily?” she asked as his mouth brushed over the tip of her right breast, causing a tingle she well remembered.

“Can we talk about my
sister
some other time?” He moved up to kiss her, his tongue invading, conquering, distracting her even as he claimed her in a more primal way. When he lifted his head, he smiled wickedly. “We have some unfinished business, I believe.”

Mystified, she looked up at him and then gasped when he took a glass from the bedside table and splashed cool wine over her bare breasts. His voice held a sultry roughness. “As I said then, I wanted to do this the first time I saw you and now seems an opportune time. Do not worry—I will lick it away.”

As his tongue teased and tasted every curve and leisurely explored each hollow and valley, she decided that this was
exactly
the right time.

Sometime later, when they rested together again after the acute peak of pleasure, the softly spoken words, the heated sighs, he laughed.

“What is so amusing?” She was more tired than usual with the pregnancy, though everyone promised her the fatigue passed eventually.

“Your sister’s wedding is tomorrow.”

“Elle’s wedding is entertaining?”

Jonathan laughed again in a swift exhale. “I can’t wait to witness Drury getting leg-shackled to your sister.”

On the edge of sleep, Cecily murmured, “I agree. Both Carole and Betsy also have serious suitors, but what of Lily?”

His fingers sifted through her hair, his lean body propped above her, comfortably pinning her to the bed. “The spirits tell me she will find the right one eventually.”

“Your spirits? I wished they talked to me.”

“They will.” He smoothed his hand over the slight swell of her stomach. “We are one.”

“I am still worried about her.”

He laughed. “Your grandmother is in charge of her future, and the determination there intimidates even me. I think we can rest assured that she is being managed quite well. The Dowager Duchess of Eddington is a formidable force when she takes on such a challenge.”

“Lily will never forgive you for that.” Cecily summoned the strength to smile at him. He truly was the most handsome man ever—if one favored them a bit uncivilized, with delicious exotic coloring and midnight eyes.

“Probably not.” His voice held a hint of amusement.

“Families,” Cecily said as if it was a new observation, “are quite complicated.”

“Is that why we are starting one?” His breath whispered against her ear. “To complicate our lives? I thought between England, America, my daughter, four sisters between us, and a brother and cousin, not to mention all the assorted other family members, we were already in a complicated enough situation.”

“I cannot wait to hold our child.” Her hands smoothed his bare back. He was leaner than before his injuries, but she still reveled in his strength “It is how life continues.”

“It is how
love
continues.” Her Earl Savage looked into her eyes and said the words softly, only for her.

And like the first time they met, with one whisper, she was swept away.

 

 

T
he battle was over, but his troubles were not.

Damn
.

Damien Northfield shifted his weight and did his best to ignore the dizzying weakness that made it almost impossible to move. It wasn’t that he’d never been wounded before, but this was different. His mouth tasted like sawdust—it felt as if he’d swallowed an entire cartload of it—and all around him was a sea of battered, bloodied bodies. If it were not for the occasional eerie moan, he might have thought himself entirely alone, the single ghost among the dead.

His left leg, he discovered, was useless.

Each time he attempted to lever himself up, the pain was enough to make him grit his teeth and fight to remain conscious. There was no doubt that there was a certain attraction to the state of insensibility, especially when dealing with the agonizing repercussions of trying to stand, but the truth was, he didn’t have the luxury of being able to lie down and die.

This could not be it. The end of all of these past years and the effort he’d put into his duties? No, not here, like this, now.

He had his whole life ahead of him.

Didn’t he?

 

A library, she’d learned, was a delightful place to sit during a formal ball.

First of all it was blissfully quiet, Lady Lillian Bourne thought, settling back against the comfortable cushions. The music was barely audible in the background, and Lily was grateful she was not assaulted by noise from all sides. If she were daring she might be able to stretch the respite to twenty minutes.

Even as she reflected on how she despised the press of so much noise and too many people, the library suddenly lost its status as a solitary refuge.

The door opened, it closed, and then it opened again almost at once.

Lily could have sworn she heard a deep male voice mutter a curse that contained an intriguing word she didn’t recognize.

“
This
is where you were going, my lord?”

The second speaker was a woman and the question held a sultry female intonation. Lily had to resist the urge to sit up and see who had entered the room, but she wasn’t all that anxious to be discovered herself, so she remained hidden, propped carelessly on the velvetcovered settee in an unladylike pose with her ankles crossed.

“Yes, for just a few minutes of
solitude
.”

The weighted emphasis on that last word was lost on his companion. The woman’s laugh was musical and light. “You are always so droll.”

“Am I?” Lord Whoever’s voice was dry but not offensive, just offhand. “I wasn’t aware. Can I help you, Lady Piedmont?”

Lady Piedmont? As in the wife of the man some speculated might become the next prime minister? That was interesting. Lily didn’t merely follow the society papers; she was also careful to pay attention to the political machinations of the English system of government, and she knew the name well.

“I think you know why I followed you.”

Lily might not be as sophisticated as rumor had it, but that murmured inflection was hard to miss. Low, with a heated note that told her she definitely did not now want to make her presence known, and the lack of a response indicated that perhaps some sort of physical contact might just be occurring.

How the devil
did
she get herself into these situations? she wondered with a mixture of irritation and chagrin. All she’d wanted was a few minutes of peace and quiet before having to face all of society gawping at her and not succeeding in concealing their avid interest in her every move, lest she fall from grace again.

Once had been entirely too much.

“Miriam,” the unknown man said, his voice a notch deeper, “don’t. I refuse to cooperate.”

“Ah, but there is evidence to the contrary. Your cock is getting hard, darling.”

“A beautiful woman is endeavoring to unbutton my breeches. I think with most males there would be a predictable physical reaction, but that does not mean I want this to go any further.”

“No? Rumor has it you are remarkably well endowed. I am rather eager to verify that for myself.” The words were said in a low, persuasive purr.

“Good Lord, don’t you females have anything better to discuss? I’m sorry, but I am uninterested in assuaging your curiosity.”

Lady Piedmont was undeterred. She said quite breathlessly, “Kiss me again.”

“I didn’t kiss you the first time,” he argued. “
You
kissed
me
. It’s quite different, my dear.”

Lily could no longer contain the impulse, easing up to take a quick glimpse over the top of the settee. It was a large, long room, and she was in the shadows at the far end. The beleaguered but as yet unidentified lord was no doubt busy enough fending off his determined seductress, and certainly Lady Piedmont’s attention was focused on her quarry, so she doubted they would see her.

Sure enough, there were the very lovely Lady Piedmont, who might not have been in the first bloom of youth but could still put most ingénues to shame with her flaming-red hair and generous figure, and a well-dressed man whose hands at the moment shackled her wrists, obviously to keep her from her pursuit to unfasten his clothing. The lady in question was still pressed suggestively against him, his back to one of the bookcases. Had it been a reluctant young lady being accosted by a male, Lily would have grabbed a handy weapon, such as the heavy Chinese vase sitting on the table to her right, and come to her rescue, but from what she could see, the object of Lady Piedmont’s desire was tall and wide-shouldered and looked entirely capable of taking care of himself.

“I’m flattered,” he said with a hint of humor, “at your interest, but our mutual absence from the ballroom will be noted. I think it is more than prudent for you to return as soon as possible.”

“Prudence has never been my main virtue.”

Lily could believe that, especially the way the woman had plastered herself against him. Virtue didn’t apply. The word
shameless
came to mind.

“Do you really want to become the target for a barrage of backhanded whispers?”

No,
Lily thought from firsthand experience.
Trust me, you don’t.

“Can we discuss this . . . later then? Someplace more discreet?”

“No.”

“Darling, I—”

“No.” His tone was gentle, maybe even indulgent, but there was an undercurrent that implacably supported his denial.

“Why not?” There was a definite pout in the question, but at least it indicated she finally understood he meant his refusal.

“For a myriad of reasons.”

Lily felt a flicker of admiration. After all, it wasn’t as if most men in society didn’t indulge themselves in casual affairs. Yet this man declined the beautiful Lady Piedmont’s aggressive offer. And his rejection wasn’t tempered with a variety of explanations.
No
was
no
.

Good for him.

Then he dropped Lady Piedmont’s wrists, and despite her outraged gasp, somehow he deftly opened the door and deposited her outside. He was back inside, with the door closed and locked, before Lily could register the impressive maneuver.

Lily ducked back down before he turned, hearing him mutter, “By the devil, there had better be brandy in here somewhere.”

There was. The tray with the decanter and glasses rested on a small polished desk very close to where she sat wondering how fate could be so wily as to conjure a scenario in which she, who meticulously strived to avoid any situation that might be even mildly indiscreet, suddenly found herself locked in a room with a strange gentleman.

Her reputation could not survive another scandal.

If there had been a way to decamp out the window, or maybe scamper under a convenient chair, she would have taken it, but he moved purposefully in her direction and her breath caught in her throat.

Damnation,
as her older brother, Jonathan, might have said. This was awkward.

Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong. She’d merely done exactly what the man who had intruded claimed to do: sought a bit of a reprieve from the ball. It was not her fault he’d attracted the importunate Lady Piedmont.