Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) (29 page)

Behind him, sitting just in the shadows, was a cat…calmly cleaning its paws.

“Captain Black,” Isobel exclaimed. “But how?”

Beckett shook his head, saying, “I’m certainly glad he turned up, though I have no idea how he did.”

“He must have hitched a ride on Lennox’s carriage,” Worthington said. “After all, that cat does have a fondness for you, Lady Ravenwood.”

At that, Captain Black looked up at his audience. His green eyes glowed, and as he walked toward Isobel, she could see bloodstains on some of the white patches of his fur. He stopped at her feet and meowed up at her. Isobel lifted him in her arms and snuggled him close.

“Captain Mayfield was right—you did protect me,” Isobel said, scratching his ears in gratitude. The cat purred and closed his eyes.

“Thanks for looking after her, old boy,” Beckett said, reaching over and stroked the cat, too.

Isobel looked down at Sir Harry, then at Worthington. “Is he—?”

“Dead?” Worthington replied. “No, the silly sap just fainted from the shock of it all. His wounds, while painful, are unfortunately not fatal. Still, he’ll have some nice scars. Ought to fit right in with the lads at Newgate. I have connections that will ensure Sir Harry is taken into custody. I must admit, I never liked the man.”

“Yet you did his bidding onboard ship,” Isobel countered. “You kidnapped us because of him!”

“That I did, Lady Ravenwood,” the captain agreed, “but as I explained to you, it was a business transaction. I had nothing personal against you or your husband. That is why I helped him to rescue you now.”

“Another business transaction?” Isobel asked, warily.

“Yes, Isobel,” Beckett said.

“And what was the price?”

Beckett looked at her with a serious expression. “A thousand pounds. I thought it quite steep, myself—”

“What?” Isobel exclaimed.

Beckett pulled her close, saying, “I’m teasing. I would have given up my entire fortune, my dear, if that was what Worthington had asked.”

“Damn me,” Worthington said, chuckling, “if only I’d known! Ah, well, I still made a tidy profit. It should cover the ships repairs.”

He reached for Captain Black, and Isobel reluctantly handed him over.

“Now, you and your husband must be tired,” Worthington said. “You should get yourselves home. I and my men will take care of everything here, including Sir Harry.”

“But this is Isobel’s family home,” Beckett said, regarding her with concerned eyes. “Perhaps you want to stay here for the night?”

“No, Beckett, it is ours, now,” she replied. “But I don’t want to stay here. Let us go to Covington Place.”

Beckett kissed the top of her head. “I would like that very much indeed. My wife and I are going home. Might I hire two of your men to drive us?” he asked Worthington.

The captain shook Beckett’s hand, saying, “Of course. Mr. Evandale and Mr. Martin will be happy to escort you. Best of luck to you, Ravenwood. My lady.” He kissed Isobel’s hand.

Isobel took one last look at Captain Black, then she and Beckett headed out of the passageway. Soon they were rumbling down the road, away from Sir Harry and the nightmare that had almost come to pass.

But the nightmare wasn’t over yet. There was still the false murder charge hanging over her head in London. Would Palmerston proceed with prosecuting her?

Oh, she couldn’t think about that, now. She wouldn’t think about it!

Beckett was alive. He was beside her, warm and strong and alive. She would let nothing else spoil this moment.

Beckett tipped her chin up towards him. His face looked unbearably handsome in the yellow moonlight.

“Tell me something, wife,” he whispered.

“Yes?” She thrilled at the sound of his husky voice.

“Have you ever made love in a carriage?”

Chapter 28

Beckett knelt on the floor of the carriage before her, his eyes glowing like jewels. His hands reached up and slid her dress down over her shoulders.

Slowly, with exquisite control, he ran his hands over her naked breasts. Isobel heard her own intake of breath as he caressed her with deft fingers.

His touch was maddeningly light as his fingertips drew circles around the sensitive pink tips. With each thumb, he teased the hard peaks until Isobel heard herself gasping. And all the while, she stared at him, at this beautiful man’s face with blue eyes that seared her like the heat of the sun.

Suddenly, his hands moved to the hem of her skirt. Beckett stopped for a moment, and the wicked promise in his eyes was almost too much for Isobel to bear. He smiled and pushed her skirt up over her knees. His hands explored her thighs, and Isobel arched her back and spread her legs, wanting so much for him to touch her. He pulled off her undergarments and threw them over his shoulder.

Beckett leaned forward and captured her mouth in a burning kiss while his hands stroked between her legs. Isobel felt herself becoming slick with heat, and when his fingers went inside her she moaned and gripped his shoulder.

“I want to worship you,” he whispered in her ear, and it sent shivers down her spine.

Beckett knelt back and dipped his head to kiss her inner thigh. He teased her with lips and tongue, and she jolted as his warm, wet tongue delved between her legs.

He raised his head and looked up at her. “It’s alright, Isobel. Just lie back and let your husband love you.”

His words sent a bittersweet pain through her heart.

The man she loved had come back to her alive…but would he,
could
he ever love her in return? He had told her before that such emotion was impossible for him.

If only she could keep her feelings at bay when he made love to her, and accept their coupling as pure physical sensation. But that was much more difficult than it seemed.

She closed her eyes as his mouth pleasured her. The sensation was so exquisite, so intense, she could never have imagined such beautiful wickedness. It was frighteningly intimate, almost too much to bear. But she would let him take her down this unknown road, for she was powerless to do anything else.

Beckett moved his mouth with a smooth rhythm, Isobel’s breath quickened. Warmth spread through her body with maddening slowness, like cream travelling through coffee.

She spread her legs wider, her hands reaching down and holding his head as he worked her with his tongue. He lifted her legs over his shoulders. Isobel heard herself gasping. It sounded as if she were in terrible pain, so desperate was her response.

Two of his fingers slipped inside her and she thought she would lose her mind—the double pleasure was unbearable. She wanted to beg him to stop, but words were impossible.

Isobel moaned loudly and rocked her hips against his hand and mouth. Her head thrashed from side to side against the back of the seat. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Then, a mind-numbing pleasure passed through every fiber of her body. She felt it everywhere, in her legs, her arms, even her fingertips. It emptied her and yet filled her completely.

Beckett pulled his head away and she regarded him through half-lidded eyes. He unfastened his trousers and slid them down over his hips. Then he reached forward and lifted her towards him. He sat back on the opposite seat and lowered her down onto the hardness between his legs.

Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands cupped her buttocks, his mouth joining with hers as their bodies moved together.

Isobel circled her arms around his neck as he pumped into her. She closed her eyes and threw her head back as the pleasure of him filled her completely. Then she felt it coming again, that speeding, heady flood that would wash her away so completely.

Beckett groaned and pounded into her with a blinding rhythm. He moaned as he gripped her buttocks and thrust harder.

Isobel felt lightness overtake her—as though she were weightless and couldn’t feel her body anymore. She cried out, bursting through glorious waves of pleasure yet again.

Beckett groaned and crushed her to him, burying his face in her shoulder as he, too, found release.

They remained that way for awhile, unable to move. Then Beckett kissed her sweetly, tenderly, and looked into her eyes. He brushed the stray hair away from her eyes and stroked her face.

“You never answered my question, Isobel,” he said.

“What question?” she asked, dazedly.

“Have you ever made love in a carriage?”

She smiled, and said, “Oh, yes—I have.”

“And how was it?” he pressed.

“Absolutely incredible,” she answered, truthfully.

“I must say, that is good news,” Beckett said. “Perhaps you’ll want to go for more carriage rides, all about London. Perhaps we’ll go through Hyde Park at five o’clock on a Saturday, and draw the curtains.”

“We couldn’t!” she said, giggling.

“We couldn’t draw the curtains?” he asked. “Wicked woman. Then everyone would see.”

“No,” she replied, though she knew he was teasing her. “We couldn’t do
that
riding around Hyde Park…could we?”

Beckett pulled her to him and kissed her so passionately, she thought he might make love to her again, right there.

“We shall see,” he said. “Now, we should get ourselves dressed. We’ll be entering the outskirts of London soon. And while I am entranced with your current state of dishabille, I’m afraid I’d rather not share the sight with Hartley when he opens the door.”

Isobel laughed as he threw her undergarments at her head. When she was once again presentable, Isobel sat back on the seat and Beckett joined her. He encircled her with his arms and she leaned her head back against his chest. Though she hadn’t meant to, relief and happiness overwhelmed her and she promptly dozed off.

* * *

Isobel rolled over and pulled the covers higher over her head, refusing to let the troubles of the world disturb her. She was certain that she could stay in this bed forever. It was so warm and soft. And yet, there was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. Where was she?

Isobel sat upright in the bed and realized she was naked. Oh, yes. She was in Beckett’s bed in the townhouse in Covington Place, exactly where this adventure had started.

But she didn’t remember coming into the town-house, let alone Beckett’s bedroom. The last thing she remembered, she’d started to doze off in her husband’s arms as they neared London. Could she have been asleep all this time?

A knock sounded at the door, and Isobel pulled the sheet up to cover her naked breasts. A pair of bright blue eyes peeked around the door. They belonged to the most handsome man she had ever seen. Her heart did a flip-flop, and she smiled as her husband entered the room. Close on his heels was the most handsome dog she had ever seen.

“Monty!” She held her arms out to the dog as he bounded over to the bed, his great pink tongue lolling in his excited rush to see her. The shaggy brown dog skidded to a halt just before crashing into the bed, and plunked his rump down obediently, resting his chin on the coverlet.

“Good heavens, wife, I could have had Hartley with me instead of Monty,” he said, pointing at her naked shoulders and cringed in mock horror.

“But you didn’t,” Isobel replied, scratching the dog’s ears as the animal gazed at her with a look of unadulterated devotion. “Besides, I seem to have a strange habit of waking in your bed, wearing not even a stitch of clothing. Have I been asleep since the carriage?”

Beckett sat next to her on the other side of the bed and leaned over to kiss her as he absently fondled a breast. “Yes. I carried you in and put you to bed. Rather like the first night we met. Only last night I climbed in beside you in a most premeditated manner. Then I joined you in dreamland. It’s no wonder we slept so soundly. We’d had a bit of an exhausting day, I think.”

“Oh, Beckett, is it true?” she asked. “Is Sir Harry really out of our lives?”

“Yes, Isobel,” he replied. “I promise that no one will ever hurt you or take you away from me again.”

“But what about Lord Palmerston?”

He put his hand to her lips, saying, “We shall talk about that later. Now you must get dressed. Alfred is due at any moment. Unless you prefer to entertain guests in all your natural glory.”

“I shall reserve such wicked pleasures for my husband only,” she said, flirtatiously.

He grinned, saying, “Perhaps I shall take you up on it tonight. I must confess, I have an urge to see you play the piano-forte thus.”

Isobel laughed and pushed him away.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Hartley’s voice. “Lord Weston downstairs to see you, m’lord.”

“Yes, Hartley, I’ll be down directly,” Beckett answered, ring from the bed and heading for the door. Monty obediently followed. “Come down as soon as you’re dressed. Oh, and there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Remind me, will you?”

Isobel nodded and watched them leave. She wondered at his words. Whatever he had to say to her, she would find out soon enough.

Isobel threw the covers back and walked to the washstand. Quickly she bathed and dressed. She chose a simple gown the same blue as Beckett’s eyes. And as she headed downstairs, she thought to herself, there was one subject she would not bring up.