Someone to Watch Over Me (25 page)

“We’re finished for now,” Cannon said. “Thank you, Miss Devane. I hope you will suffer no lasting effects from this disastrous day.”

“I’ll be quite well after a good rest,” she assured him.

Cannon’s comment caused Grant to frown in worry. “I should send for Linley,” he said. “He should have a look at you, after what you’ve been through.”

“Again?” Victoria shook her head instantly. “I certainly don’t need to see a doctor twice in one day.
You
can go see Dr. Linley if you’re so desirous of his company. I want to go home.”

“Home it is,” he said softly, guiding her from the office.

Mrs. Dobson stepped into the hallway to observe the pair’s departure. When she glanced back at Ross, the housekeeper wore a pleased, slightly bemused expression. “Well,” she remarked, “it seems our Mr. Morgan has finally fallen in love.”

“And fallen hard,” Ross added wryly. “Poor bastard.”

An affectionate smile brightened Mrs. Dobson’s plump face. “Someday, sir, a little slip of a thing may yet reduce you to the state our poor Mr. Morgan is in.”

“I’ll slit my own throat first,” he replied calmly. “In the meanwhile, I want a jug of coffee.”

The housekeeper looked outraged at the suggestion. “At this hour? I won’t hear of it. What you need is rest, and plenty of it, not some brew that will shred your nerves to ribbons…”

Sighing, Cannon returned to his desk and endured the lecture that ensued.

U
pon returning to King Street, Victoria was greeted by a worried Mrs. Buttons and a tearful Mary, both of whom were astonished by the news that Keyes had intended to do her harm.

“You should have told me, miss!” the housekeeper exclaimed. “If you had, I should have done whatever was necessary to help you.”

“I’m sorry,” Victoria replied with a wan smile. “With the sudden shock of my memory returning, and my fear of Mr. Keyes, I’m afraid I lost my head.” She did not want to hurt anyone’s feelings by admitting that she hadn’t been certain of whether she could trust the servants to take her side against a Bow Street Runner. “And in any case,” she added, “everything has turned out well, thanks to Mr. Morgan.”

“I suppose we’ll get another ha’penny novel out
of this,” Mrs. Buttons said. “More exciting adventures of the Bow Street legend, Mr. Morgan.”

“The Bow Street lummox, more like,” Grant muttered. “The entire situation was my fault. I had originally wanted Flagstad to guard Victoria—I should never have agreed to let Keyes do it.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Victoria protested. “No one suspected him—not even Sir Ross.”

Grant scowled in reply, obviously not accepting her defense of him. Gently he lifted a hand to her forehead and brushed back a straggling tendril of hair. “Mrs. Buttons,” he said, still staring at Victoria, “I believe Miss Devane requires a bath. And perhaps some warm milk with brandy.”

“Oh, yes,” Victoria said, shivering in pleasure at the thought of soaking in hot soapy water.

“We’ll take excellent care of her, Mr. Morgan,” the housekeeper assured him, and gestured to the housemaid standing nearby. “Mary, you and the girls fill a bath for Miss Devane, and then fill a separate one in the guest room for Mr. Morgan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary said eagerly, disappearing on swift feet.

Grant’s tone was soft as he spoke to Victoria. “Shall I carry you upstairs?”

Smiling, Victoria shook her head. She was so enmeshed in the tender warmth of his gaze that she was barely aware of the housekeeper leaving them. “Will you come to me after your bath?” she asked.

His face was expressionless, but his mouth was soft as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her temple. “No,” he murmured so quietly that she could barely hear him.

Surprised, she drew back a few inches. “You won’t?”

“You’ve endured enough for one day—you don’t need a great rutting brute in your bed tonight.”

Unable to restrain herself, Victoria reached out and hugged herself against his hard chest. “What if I want him there?”

“You need to sleep,” he said firmly.

“Sleep is a waste of time.”

A reluctant laugh rumbled in his throat, and slowly his arms came around her. She felt him breathe into the locks of hair above her ear. “That proves how exhausted you are. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” Victoria insisted, not allowing him to push her away.

“Sweet pea…” Grant’s voice was slightly strained. “It’s been a hell of a trying day for me as well. I’m afraid if I visit you tonight…” He paused to search for the appropriate words. “I don’t think I would have any…”

“Strength?” she supplied.

“Self-control.”

“Oh.” Victoria swallowed hard as she stared at his unfathomable face. “But if you—”

“Go,” he muttered, easily prying her loose and turning her to face the stairs. He gave her a strong nudge. “I’ve been through too much, Victoria. I don’t trust myself with you tonight. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Frowning, Victoria ascended the stairs, occasionally pausing to glance back at him. Grant waited
until she had reached the top before he turned and went to the library in search of a much-needed brandy.

With the servants’ help, Victoria washed and rinsed her hair twice, sighing in bliss as the hot water whisked away all traces of grime. The bath soaked away the soreness of her strained muscles, and warmed the deep-set chill from her bones. That and a cup of brandy-laced milk combined to relax her deeply. She dressed in a clean muslin night rail and premise that fastened up the front with a row of tiny peal buttons. Drowsily she sat before the fire as the servants carefully combed her damp hair and allowed the heat from the hearth to dry the crimson locks. “More milk?” Mrs. Buttons asked. “Or something to eat? A plate of toast, or a bowl of soup…an egg, perhaps—”

“Thank you, no.” Victoria rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Understanding her weariness and her need for privacy, the housekeeper nodded to Mary, and they prepared to leave the room. “Ring for me if there is anything you need, Miss Devane,” Mrs. Buttons said softly.

Eyes half closed, Victoria extended her bare feet toward the fire and watched the yellow light play upon her toes. She wondered if Grant had finished bathing, if perhaps he was already asleep in the guest room. She knew he would keep to his vow not to visit her tonight, having decided it was best for her to sleep. Undoubtedly he was right. But she needed to be with him, to be held and comforted, and to comfort him in return.

She had come close to dying this evening, barely a month after the first attempt on her life, and the realization made her desperate to savor every moment for the rest of her days. Sleep was indeed a waste of time…especially when the man she loved was only a room away.

Before Victoria had consciously made the decision, she was at the door of the guest suite. With fingers that trembled just a little, she turned the knob and entered the small antechamber that led to the bedroom. As in the master suite, a small fire on the grate spread ruddy flickering light over the room and made shadows dance in the corner.

And on the bed…What she beheld caused her to stop in her tracks, flustered, her heart pounding hard and heavy in her chest. Grant was stretched out on the guest bed, one foot dangling over the edge, one knee propped up slightly. He held a book in his hand, reading with a slight frown on his forehead and a moody set to his mouth. There was not a stitch of clothing anywhere in sight.

The firelight turned his skin a light shade of amber and scattered gold flecks throughout his shiny black hair. Every detail of his long, muscled body was visible, from the triangular hollow at the base of his throat, to the dusting of dark wiry hair on his legs. Amid a riot of excitement and confusion, Victoria wondered why it was that he seemed so much larger with his clothes off than on. She had never seen such a startling expanse of naked skin.

Victoria knew she must have made some small sound, for his narrowed gaze switched to her, and automatically he covered his lap with the open
book. The defensive gesture struck her as amusing, and his forbidding scowl only heightened the comic effect. Clamping her lips together, she repressed a sudden laugh and ventured farther into the room. “You shouldn’t read in such bad light,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. She was more nervous than she had realized. “You’ll strain your eyes.”

His frown deepened. “That’s not the only thing I’ll strain if you don’t go back to your room.”

Ignoring the command, she closed the door and approached the bed in cautious steps. “I’m not sleepy.”

Grant sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the muscles of his stomach rippling as he kept the book over his loins. “You would lose consciousness in less than a minute if you went to bed and closed your eyes.” But his gaze swept over her white muslin premise, lingering on the row of tiny buttons that fastened it, and she heard the change in his breathing. Encouraged, she stepped closer to him. “I mean it, Victoria,” he warned. “Not tonight.”

“Don’t you want to be with me?”

“I want what’s best for you.”

“
You’re
what’s best for me.” Staring into his intent green eyes, she reached for the top button of her premise and fumbled with it. Her nervousness made her clumsy, and it was difficult to pull the pearl button through the tiny silk loop. Grant was silent, continuing to watch her without blinking. Blushing in sudden embarrassment, she wrenched the fastening, and the tiny button popped free, bouncing to the carpet. In rising frustration, Victoria
realized there were more than a dozen buttons remaining. At this rate it would take all night just to remove her premise. Abandoning the hopeless task, she looked at Grant and made a wry face. “I’m not a very accomplished seductress, am I?”

All at once the book went sailing halfway across the room, landing on the floor with a muffled thud. Victoria gasped as she was abruptly lifted in the air and deposited on the bed. Grant leaned over her, his broad shoulders blocking the fire from her vision. “Considering the fact that I’m as hard as an iron pike,” he said huskily, “I’d say you’re doing something right.”

She was clasped against more than six feet of solid, aroused male, his sex protruding against her abdomen, one of his muscular thighs pressing between hers. Tentatively she slid her arms around his midriff, her hands coming to rest on his hard back. She was startled by the heat of his body, burning with almost feverish intensity. “Your skin is so hot,” she whispered, her cool fingers wandering across the flexing plane of his back.

His breath filtered through his teeth as if he were in pain, and she froze in uncertainty. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no…” Grant buried his face in the loose locks of her hair, rubbing his cheek against the scarlet silk. “When you touch me, I’m not sure if I’m in heaven or hell.”

“Is that good?”

“That’s good,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair.

She smiled against his ear and locked her arms
around his back, holding on with all her strength. Grant murmured love words against her throat, her cheeks, pressing unhurried kisses over her skin as his fingers worked at the buttons of her premise. He unfastened them without any haste, taking his time as he freed each pearl from its confining loop.

“Kiss me,” Victoria said breathlessly, wanting something more than the light, tantalizing brushes of his mouth. His lips hovered over hers, teasing her with his restraint, and she slid her arms around his neck to tug his head closer. She couldn’t repress a moan as he gave the openmouthed kiss she wanted, his tongue exploring her with luscious, softly gauging strokes.

Realizing that her premise was spread open, Victoria struggled to rid herself of the garment. He soothed her with more kisses and fitted his solid arm beneath her neck, helping to tug the premise away from her body. Now all that separated their skin was the gossamer layer of her night rail. He fondled her through the thin muslin, finding the shape of her breast and cupping it in his warm hand, squeezing gently until her nipple tightened against his palm.

Trembling with excitement, Victoria touched him with growing boldness, her fingertips dipping into the valley of his spine, the hard inward curve ridged with thick muscle on both sides. And lower, to the dense flesh of his buttocks, her hands delighting in the solid masculine curvature. His body moved as she touched him there, his hips pushing urgently at hers, the sturdy shape of his arousal nudging into the pocket of muslin that draped between
her thighs. She started at his involuntary thrust, remembering when he had taken her the first time, the intimate sundering of her body and the pain it had caused.

Clearly sensing her uneasiness, Grant went still over her, resting his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her. “Don’t be afraid,” he said hoarsely.

“I’m not,” she lied, forcing her fists to unclench. She spread her hands on the backs of his shoulders. “You said it wouldn’t hurt if I was prepared for it.”

“That’s right.” He kissed her, his mouth indescribably delicious as it ground gently over hers. She opened completely to his kiss, her body pliant and trusting beneath his. She did not tense again, even when he paused to strip away her night rail completely. He shaped and lifted her breasts in both hands, kissing one rosy peak and then the other. His lips parted over a sensitive nipple, and she felt the sliding caress of his tongue. The softly tickling touch caused her to arch higher against his mouth. His hand clasped her knee and wandered upward, not stopping until he reached the thatch of hair that protected her tender feminine flesh. His fingertips played lightly among the spicy red curls, sliding and teasing until she groaned and pushed the small mound directly into his hand.

Grant shuddered from the effort not to take her then. He knew she was ready for him, he felt the moisture seeping through the cinnamon silk…but not yet. Not until she begged him for it. Whispering his love to her, he caressed her intimately, his fingertip stroking through her softness until he found the entrance to her body. He relished the
catch of her breath, her sudden quiver as he slid his finger forward, stroking the hot inner sleekness. She held his shoulders as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. He watched her face as he pushed his finger as deep as it would go, and her eyes closed, the fine russet brows knitting together. Bending over her chest, he caught one pink nipple in his mouth and tugged rhythmically.

“Please,” she finally gasped, unconsciously drawing her knees up and spreading her thighs. “Please…it’s too much, I…”

“Do you want me now?” he asked.

“Please,” she entreated again, her face flushed and damp.

His heart thundered with desire as he mounted her, positioned himself, and exerted steady pressure against her vulnerable opening. Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she brought her hands between them. Her palms pushed against the taut muscles of his chest, and she writhed and struggled to accommodate him. “Oh, I can’t—” she said unsteadily.

“You’ll take it for me,” he whispered. “You’ll take it, Victoria. Let me inside you.” He increased the pressure and felt her body ease, turning slick and welcoming as he began to enter. Groaning with relief, he penetrated her in a slow thrust, not pausing until he was buried deep in the succulent warmth of her body. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around him, enclosing him in a secure embrace. Sensation and emotion swirled together inside him, flooding him with bliss.

Part of his brain went dark and quiet, all thought extinguished as physical awareness ruled supreme.
He moved in deep nudging strokes, angling himself to press against the peak of her sex. Awkwardly she pushed upward into the thrusts, struggling to get closer to him. He grunted with satisfaction, and his huge hands slid beneath her buttocks, guiding her rhythm so that it corresponded with his.