Stealing the Bride (13 page)

She would have run off with that monstrous Corsican himself if she believed it would have wrought this…this miracle.

She snuggled toward his side of the bed. “I’m safe now.”

He groaned, the earthy kind that spoke of barely restrained need trying to claw its way to freedom. “Hardly safe,” he said, his fingers sliding behind her neck and into her hair.

She inched closer, and still he did not release her, his gaze holding her in its smoky grasp. “I’ve never felt more secure in my life.”

It was the truth. Where once his kisses left her trembling with unknown fears, now they only tempted her into that unknown abyss of passion and release.

His fingers slid down her neck, over her shoulders, leaving irresistible tendrils of desire in their wake.

Diana shivered. “Temple—”

“Sssh,” he told her. “Sometimes you talk too much.” He silenced her with a heady, hungry kiss.

Diana’s mouth opened under his bidding without a moment’s hesitation. His tongue challenged hers, drawing her into a sweet duel as they danced and tangled.

Aching desire awakened and blossomed within her, stretching and stirring in places so long asleep. Diana wanted to cry out in elation, but instead let her joy run through her fingers as they splayed over his chest, ran wild over his shoulders.

The muscled strength beneath her fevered touch left her breathless, while his lips bedeviled her, whispering kisses over her face, the nape of her neck, her ear, teasing her into believing anything was possible.

That a man could feel so dangerous, so hard and unforgiving to touch, yet devour her with such delicious sensations, amazed her. Left her craving so much more.

“Diana,” he breathed into her ear. “My goddess.”

Her entire body stilled. Had she heard him true? Goddess?

His goddess
. Once again.

His kiss deepened with a savage hunger, and she responded in kind. She hadn’t waited all these years to bow to some ridiculous notion of maidenly fears.

When his fingers curled around one of her breasts, she let out a deep, throaty sigh of pleasure. It was a tantalizing feeling, but only to be overrun moments later when his thumb began to rub over her nipple until it tightened into an aching, pebbled tip. A frenzied intoxication overtook her, leaving her gasping for air, her wits fleeing in the face of a torrent of desire that sprang to life under his masterful touch.

“Oh, oh, Temple,” she gasped, as his lips replaced his fingers and he began to suckle her. Instinctively, she arched toward him, her body not satisfied with just the touch of his hand, the heat of his mouth.

She wanted to feel him. All of him. She closed the distance between them, pressing herself up against him.

And the moment their bodies collided, in the instant that her hips met his, her legs tangled with his strong thighs, as her arms twined around his neck, a blazing heat ignited between them.

A recognition, an awareness of how well they matched and kindled.

Wrenching his mouth from hers, Temple stared into her eyes as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then he caught her in his grasp, and in one breathless motion, rolled her on her back, covering and pinning her to the mattress with his body.

Diana gasped at his sudden claiming, but the sound was cut off when his mouth swooped back over hers and he continued to devour her as if he’d never find his fill.

Temple considered himself a man of careful reason. But with Diana in his arms, his yearning for her swept aside any resolve his mind claimed.

He shouldn’t have kissed her the night before. It had only whetted his appetite. And now he reveled in her kiss, the feel of her silken skin, the taste of her lips, like a man starving.

This wasn’t the tempestuous, curious girl he’d once loved, but a woman grown, with needs that met his with an insistence, with a power, that left him unable to resist her.

As he covered her with his body, there was now only her thin chemise and his breeches between them.

His manhood throbbed for freedom, ached to be buried in the sweet, tight channel between her thighs.

Her hips rose to meet his, brushing their invitation in a swaying dance, as if she knew the struggle he was waging.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He’d been sent on an honorable mission, and this…this insanity wasn’t going to make his job any easier.

She was tugging at his shirt, pushing the linen aside. Her chemise had ridden up to her thighs, letting her bare legs rub against his breeches.

His breeches. Her chemise.

They were both an insurmountable wall and a flimsy prison.

For if he tore down the wall, he knew for certain he’d encase them both in a prison from which there would be no escape. Diana would hate him for what he would have to do, and he didn’t know if he had the strength of will to do it—to set her aside as he had years ago, and keep her safely out of his life.

Her hips once again pressed against him, and he felt his resolve crumbling.

Like her kiss, his need for her tried to convince his reason that just once, just this one night would be enough to sate his desire. To forever end his longing for her.

But like her kiss, Temple knew in his heart that once would never be enough. Once tasted, Diana would forever be the only woman he would desire.

And so he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He wrenched his lips from hers and scrambled out of the bed.

“Temple?” she said, her throaty voice anxious with need, her hand reaching out to catch hold of him again.

Oh, he knew what she was feeling, only too well, for the cold of the room hit him like a slap in the face.

“No, I can’t do this.”

“I beg to differ,” she said.

“No, I won’t do this,” he said, backing away from her. “It isn’t right. It isn’t honorable.”

She groaned and edged toward him. “Temple, would you just forget your wretched honor for one demmed night?”

He shook his head and turned from her before the tears in her eyes washed away the tenuous thread of resolve to which he clung.

Diana awoke early the next morning, just as the sun started to find its way through the curtains. She stretched and rolled over and realized there was someone else in her room.

Someone in her room?

She nearly flew out from beneath the sheets in a state of shock. Then she remembered.

Temple.
She’d spent the night with him.

Well, almost.

And what a glorious night it might have been, if not for his insufferable honor. Despite that, it had been like a dream come true to have him kiss her again. To have him claim her as if she were his goddess.

Now if she could just get him to…

Diana sighed. Obviously she still had her work cut out for her. Woe be it to her plans if Penham or Nettlestone were to catch up with them. Temple might just make good on Elton’s suggestion and give her to one of them to marry.

She clung to the hope that she’d found in his valise. That some battered and worn book of verse could hold the key to her future seemed so unlikely, and yet…

The lyrical words floated into her thoughts, like the dust motes swirling in the morning rays of light. She’d read his book of verse from cover to cover and had never before felt so moved by mere words.

That Temple held such rare, raw emotions gave her hope that she could rediscover the man she loved. He was there, his kiss promised her that much.

So no, she told herself. He wouldn’t do it. He would never let her go. She had to believe that. Whatever held his heart in check, whatever had changed his mind all those years ago, she knew she had but this one last chance to wrench him free from his self-imposed prison.

Better to break her own heart trying to find his than to continue to watch him from the lonely walls where spinsters sat at Almack’s or through opera glasses from the dark corner of her father’s box.

Yet whatever the key to his heart was, she wasn’t going to find it lolling about in bed. Though she considered waking him up, she recalled Elton’s warning about the marquis’ morning demeanor.

A regular baited bear, he is, miss. Pay him no mind. He’ll be right as rain once he gets a bit of that awful coffee he likes.

Diana hardly needed to put Temple in a foul mood first thing. He might marry her off to one of the stable lads and be done with her. Especially given the pained expression he’d gone to bed with and the bruises he’d wake up with after spending a stubborn night on a hard floor.

Yes, perhaps it was better just to let him sleep.

She slipped from her bed, her toes curling in displeasure as they hit the cold floor.

Diana frowned and hurried over to where she’d left her clothes. She pulled on her bodice and then her skirt, sighing at the state of them, and wondering if perhaps she could get them spotted and brushed before she had to don them again.

Glancing at the mirror, she shuddered.

Her hair stuck out in several different directions, and her eyes were puffy. Mrs. Foston would have apoplexy if could see her charge in such a state. Grabbing up her brush, Diana made the best of a bad situation and wondered how anyone ever survived without the assistance of a maid.

Would that be her future with Temple? Penniless, and having to make do for herself? She might even have to learn how to cook.

Dear Lord, that would be a wretched kettle.

She sighed, then brightened. Mayhap Elton knew how to brew a decent pot of tea.

Temple hadn’t gone this long in his grandfather’s poor graces without learning how to make do, and she would too, if it came to that.

An impoverished future with Temple was a fine sight better than all the servants in the world. Or worse yet, than spending her remaining days being called Lady Nettlesome.

No, she’d take to begging for alms before she’d let that happen.

She shivered again, and considered that perhaps Temple wasn’t the only one who required his morning ritual to arise fresh and ready for the day.

A spot of tea was just what she needed.

Sneaking out the door, she made her way down the hall. Below, the kitchen staff could be heard hurrying about their duties. She passed by a window, and outside the lads from the stable and the postboys were dashing about, getting ready for another day’s hard labor.

She paused at the head of the stairs, for below her the common room was already bursting with customers breaking their fast and discussing business matters with their neighbors.

Diana didn’t quite know what she was supposed to do. She’d never been alone in an inn before. She’d always traveled in the company of her father and Mrs. Foston, and either of them handled these matters, or there was the usual legion of maids or other help who scurried back and forth to do her bidding.

No one even seemed to notice her, a rather disconcerting feeling, since she wasn’t too sure what she should do next.

“Ooof,” she stammered as someone barreled into her from behind.

“Oh aye, sorry, milady. I dinna see you,” a maid said as she peeked around the mountain of sheets piled in her arms. “Are you going down for breakfast then?”

“I suppose so,” Diana said.

“Well, settle down at that empty table over there and the master will see to you right quick. Once he gets done talking with the sheriff, that is.”

“The sheriff?” Diana asked.

“Aye,” the girl said. “Came around a little bit ago, looking for a deadly pair.” She nodded below, where the innkeeper stood talking to a tall, dark-haired man. The maid leaned closer. “Murderers,” she confided. “Murdered a gentleman in Geddington, night afore last. Heard the sheriff tell the master that the dead man was a real fancy toff. A viscount.”

A viscount. In Geddington. Murdered.

The maid continued her gossipy tale. “They say it was another gentleman who did the task. The witnesses said the pair argued over a lady and this here gentleman shot the poor viscount dead away.”

Witnesses? They’d seen Temple? Seen him…It was too terrible to consider. Oh, what had she done? Provoked him to commit murder?

Her legs began to wobble, leaving her feeling that the floor beneath her feet was going to give way. “Did you say
murder
?”

The wide-eyed maid nodded. “Aye. Fighting over a woman. Can you imagine? A man wanting you so much, he’d kill another for you?” The girl shivered. “Makes me blood run cold. I wouldn’t want to be sleepin’ next to a man who done murder, would you?”

“No, indeed,” Diana managed to stammer. Oh dear! What had Temple done? When he’d said that Cordell had been killed by French agents, while it was a flimsy story at best, she’d never supposed that he’d killed the viscount!

No, it couldn’t be. Temple would never commit murder. There had to be some mistake.

“Miss, are you well?” the maid asked. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look right ill.”

Diana shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The sheriff continued to hold the innkeeper’s rapt attention as he started describing their party, first by holding his hands up to about her height, then putting one hand over his eye—which could only mean Elton.

And from the dismay on the innkeeper’s face, he was coming to the same conclusion as well. Though to his credit, he didn’t give away his guests. Diana guessed the man was trying to figure out how he was going to get paid for her extravagances if he turned his lucrative customers into the sheriff’s custody.

“Is there something I can do for you, milady?” the maid asked.

Diana shook her head, then looked at the girl as if she were peering through a fog. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Wait, aren’t you that newlywed pair?” The girl smiled broadly as she broke once again into Diana’s shocked reverie. “Me sister had the same thing happen. She was sick right from the start. From the looks of yer color, I’d say you’ll have a nice little bundle by Easter next.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Diana asked, her attention still riveted on the innkeeper and the sheriff. From the wide-eyed look on their host’s face, it appeared his fears were about to outweigh his greed.