Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2) (18 page)

They could all read a person's innermost thoughts? Surely not.

She could feel her heart racing as an obvious question sprung to mind. "Did you … can you read my thoughts?"

Instantly, she tried to clear her mind. To think of nothing was far more difficult than she imagined. She tried to banish all foolish notions of love and of living with him in Yorkshire. But she couldn't shake the bone-deep need for him. She couldn't stop the memories forming, of him buried inside her or the ecstasy she felt when her release pulsed through her.

"Can you?" she repeated trying to keep the panic from her voice.

"Sometimes. When my mind is calm. When your thoughts are more coherent. The more powerful the thought, the easier it is to read."

Judging by the sinful way his gaze wandered over her hair and mouth, she knew he was listening to her now. Terrified her mind would betray her and reveal a deep affection for him, she found her only hope was to focus on her physical need.

I want you, Elliot.

The thought barged past all others in its fight for supremacy, obliterating her fears for Caroline as it struggled for prominence. This infatuation she had for him overpowered all else.

Guilt was a potent emotion, too. Perhaps she should be mingling and dancing instead of fawning over her lover.

"No one will tell you anything," he suddenly said. "You're here tonight to serve as a reminder, as bait for the wagging tongues. Leo will discover Henshaw's address. He is extremely persuasive, and when we leave here, we will go there directly."

Grace stared at him.

"I feel your guilt," he continued by way of an explanation. "But there is no more you can do. I feel your passion, too, Grace. I feel it burning so brightly within you, I can't focus on anything else. My head feels dizzy, filled with the need to sate our desires."

Oh, she wanted him so desperately.

Every step closer to Caroline took her a step further away from him.

Was it wrong of her to act so selfishly?

Was it wrong of her to let others do her bidding so she could relish in the feel of her lover's warm embrace? Never had she put her own needs before the needs of her friends and family.

"Come," he said taking her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm and leading her back into the ballroom. "Perhaps it is the scoundrel in me. Perhaps I am guilty of being selfish and unfeeling. But I need to have you all to myself."

"Where will we go?" She offered no protest. How could she when every fibre of her being was addicted to his taste and his touch? A beautiful madness consumed her. She wanted nothing more than to be carried away to a place where all her wants and desires could come to fruition.

"Any place where we can be alone." There was a sense of urgency in his voice. He needed her, too, and all her worries were blown away like loose leaves in the wind.

As they made their way through the crowd, he led her out through a door to a narrow hallway. There were a few people milling about, and so they stopped, conversed, pretended to admire a painting.

I need you now, Grace.

The words echoed through her mind, and she shot round to face him. "I heard you. I heard your thought."

"I wondered if you might."

She could feel the raw masculine power emanating from him. The intoxicating energy infused her being. "What does that mean?"

He glanced over her shoulder, stepped back into the alcove and tried the door to find it open. "I'll show you what it means," he said as he pulled her inside.

Chapter 16

The heavy thrum of desire beat its potent rhythm, hard and powerful, and Elliot could no longer control his actions. As soon as the door reconnected with the jamb, he pulled her into an embrace, pushing her back against the wooden panel and claiming her mouth.

She threw her gloves to the floor, ran her hot palms up over his chest and clutched his shoulders. Frantic hands raced over his back, her bare fingers creeping up to run through his hair as his tongue thrust wildly against hers.

Grace arched her back and pressed her willing body into his.

The sensual movement caused Elliot to moan into her mouth.

The need to mate with her was the most intense feeling he had ever experienced. It went beyond a physical need.

There were no words to define it.

Her sweet taste fed his craving. The smell of her hair and skin flooded his senses to calm and excite at the same time.

While the guests in the packed ballroom were busy drinking and dancing, he imagined positioning himself between her cushioned thighs and pushing inside her core. The strokes would be long and slow and deep. Possessive. The moist sound coupled with her little pants and groans would be music to his ears. Her body would sing to his tune, the beautiful aria drifting out to express her pleasure, her appreciation.

Always for him.

Only for him.

As he tore his lips away in his eagerness to lock the door, he peered out into the dim room. The harp's shiny gilt frame caught his attention; the pianoforte took centre stage to the rows of chairs lined up ready for the recital.

At any moment, there could be a knock on the door. The elderly matrons eagerly forming a queue outside, keen to be the first to enter, keen to find a seat near the front. Their reproachful gazes would drift over Grace's mussed hair, over the shabby state of her clothing. The unmistakable scent of sated lust in the air would confirm their suspicions.

No one would give him a second glance.

In everyone's eyes, Grace would become the errant knight's cape: something relegated to the muddy gutter. Something to trample over. Something beneath them.

"We can't stay here," he suddenly said, though his solid cock jerked in protest. "We'll be discovered."

"Why?" She glanced around the room, the glassy lustre of desire fading from her eyes as she became aware of her surroundings. "Is there to be a concert tonight?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I will not take the chance. I'll not expose you to the degrading taunts and snide comments if we're caught."

It hit him then. With every other woman, every other time, he'd not given a damn about the repercussions.

But he cared now.

He cared deeply.

Elliot sucked in a breath as he let the thought seep into his consciousness.

Grace smoothed her hands down the front of her gown, drawing his gaze to her full, sumptuous breasts waiting to be released from their silk prison, waiting for the feel of his fingers, for the flick of his tongue.

Bloody hell.

He'd never felt so frustrated. But the need to protect her outweighed the raging of his rampant loins.

"You're worried we will be discovered alone together?" Grace placed her hand on his arm. "Elliot, I'm sure those who have seen us together have already made certain assumptions."

Elliot rubbed the back of his neck. "It is not the same as stumbling upon us half dressed. Whether you're a widow or not, it is hardly discreet."

She smiled and he felt a strange sensation fill his chest. "You still haven't told me," she said softly. "You haven't told me why I heard your thoughts."

For a moment he wished he was mute. To reveal the truth would mean admitting to a feeling he had run and hid from for years. He didn't want to care about anyone and the thought of saying the words aloud scared the hell out of him. Partly because he refused to be a foolish dreamer. Partly because he feared disappointment. Happiness always came at a price.

He sighed. "It's because a connection exists between us." Indeed, he feared their attraction had grown into something else. Something deeper, more profound. "Our joining has brought a heightened level of awareness. That is why you can hear me."

"Will it always be the case?"

Elliot knew what she was asking. When they parted company, would the connection always exist? When consumed with sadness or grief, would he feel it too? Would he know when she felt love in her heart for another? Would he know when she felt desire for her new beau — when her body shook from the effects of her release?

"Honestly, I do not know," he answered, fearing such a thing was possible.

"You have never experienced it before? You have never made a connection with another?"

"No." He swallowed deeply, not wanting to admit he was struggling to navigate this unchartered territory. Nor did he want to admit he had witnessed the same thing occur with Alexander and Evelyn. "Other than Alexander and Leo, no one has ever heard my thoughts."

"Oh."

"This is all new to me." He waved his hand back and forth between them. "Whatever exists between us is hard to define."

She gave a knowing smile. "It is all new to me too, Elliot."

The air between them buzzed. The sensitive skin on his lips tingled. His chest felt warm, tight. As the throbbing ache between his legs pulsed, he knew they had to leave for he was too weak to fight his need for her.

"It must be time to leave," he said, avoidance being the only way to suppress his desire. "They'll be waiting for us on the terrace."

"Well, we should not keep them waiting," she said with a heavy sigh. "There'll be time to talk later."

If he had his way, there would be time to do more than talk.

The sound of laughter resonating along the hallway captured his attention. Panic flared. Elliot put his ear to the door and as the sound dissipated, he prised the door from the jamb and peered outside.

"Quick, the hallway's empty. We must go now."

He took her hand as they hurried from the room, placing it in the crook of his arm as they attempted to walk calmly and casually back into the ballroom.

Alexander and Evelyn were already waiting outside on the terrace. They were standing but a hairs breadth apart. Alexander brushed a stray tendril from Evelyn's face, his knuckles stroking her cheek as she gazed longingly into his eyes.

Elliot's reaction to the intimate exchange shocked him.

Jealousy delivered a sharp stab to his chest.

Guilt followed with a blow to his stomach.

The beautiful, passionate lady at his side had been thrust into a dark room to be ravaged in secret by a seasoned seducer, offering nothing more than the use of his body. While other couples openly demonstrated the love, respect and admiration they shared.

"There you are." Evelyn turned to face them, her gaze drifting down to Grace's hands before offering a smirk. "You appear to have mislaid something."

Grace gasped. "My gloves. I must have left them in the music room."

"I'll go back," Elliot said.

"Nonsense. I'll go. I'll only be a minute. While I'm gone, perhaps you should go in search of Leo."

Alexander snorted. "No doubt he has been waylaid by some lady or other. He's probably forgotten all about the task we set him."

"What if he's failed to discover what we need to know?" There was no mistaking the panic in Grace's voice.

"Don't worry." Elliot turned to face her. "If need be, I'll speak to Lord Sudley, and I'll not leave here until I do."

Grace hurried to the music room, sneaking back inside when she thought no one was looking. She spotted her gloves on the floor behind the door and breathed a sigh of relief. It would not take much for someone to find them and realise she was the only lady at the ball with bare hands.

Not that it mattered.

Hopefully, this would be last time she'd need to go out in Society.

As she bent down to retrieve them, she noticed the light in the room quickly diminish, heard the door creak. When she straightened, she almost expired on the spot and had to put her hand to her heart to stop it bursting from her chest.

"Lord Barrington." She gasped as the gentleman closed the door firmly behind him.

It occurred to her to scream. Surely he would behave himself in such a crowded place. But the room wasn't crowded; it was empty, dark, and they were alone.

"Forgive me for barging in here unannounced," he said waving his hands in the air. "I have recently been made aware that you are not, in fact, Miss Rosemond. I know I acted appallingly the other night. Indeed, I still bear the scars. Punishment for my uncouth behaviour, though I only have a vague recollection of events."

Grace noticed the shadow of a bruise on his cheek, the way he stood slightly off balance favouring his right side. While she appreciated the apology, something about the gentleman's manner unsettled her.

"Well, you were not to know," she said, desperate to flee the room and be reunited with Elliot on the terrace. "But you cannot behave in such a disrespectful manner. I do not think Caroline would appreciate your high-handed approach."

She should not have made her feelings known.

Not because her opinion lacked merit, but because the gentleman had a strange look in his eye. A flicker of disdain. A dislike for women who spoke their mind.

"You are so like her in many ways." He stared at the mole on her cheek before his gaze moved to her lips. "Indeed, a gentleman might convince himself you were one and the same."