The Midnight Rake (27 page)

“I know his capabilities better than anyone and that changes nothing. I must speak to him.” She spun from the window and charged forward. “But now he will run off and disappear as quickly as he did after disgracing me at home.”

Disgracing her? A stab of fury provoked his words with more force than intended. “I forbid it. I forbid
you
going anywhere near him.” He should have pummeled Ridley when he’d had the chance, never mind wait for the opportunity in two days’ time.

“You forbid me? Forbid me? Now you’re a bully? Forcing me to your will? You are neither my father nor my guardian to tell me what I am allowed to do. I am not a child.”

“You’re behaving as one. Ridley’s goal is adroit malice. You’re not thinking clearly.” He could never forgive himself if harm befell her when he felt solely responsible for keeping her safe.

“I must speak to Simon.”

Her quick retort warned him to take a different path in search of answers.

“Simon Maddock. Arlis Ridley. A man is only as honest as his name and whatever this man calls himself, I want you nowhere near him.” He threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Why don’t you tell me what is so urgent you need to speak to him;
so vital to your existence
you care little for your own safety when it comes to this disreputable character?” He used her words against her. If only she would offer him the truth, trust him and confide in him, but the pretty little package in front of him excelled at prevarication. She stood before him silhouetted by the firelight, so small and fragile in her bedclothes, he wondered how she ever planned to extract retribution from such a proficient blackguard as Ridley.

“Does he have your heart?”

The question may have startled her as she jerked to attention, her eyes flared wide.

A wordless moment passed, then another.

“He has much more than that.”

Phineas inhaled a measured breath. “What exactly does that mean? It is time you tell me the whole of it.” His voice firm and void of anger, urged her to deem him worthy of trust. She had already carried the burden of her past far too long.

Some emotion akin to self-disgust washed over her face before she answered. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.

“I could never do that. It would change everything. Most especially the way you feel about me.”

“Believe me, nothing could change the way I feel about you. I’ve tried.” He gentled his tone. “Let me be strong for you.”

“It isn’t your concern.”

Her shoulders softened with the last utterance, as if she surrendered to a definite shift in power. A cascade of chestnut hair fell forward with the graceful motion and if he held any fist of control on his desire, it remained no more.

“From the morning I met you, you’ve been my concern. You occupy my thoughts every waking minute.”
You collided with my heart the instant we knocked together on the day of your arrival.

But no, he couldn’t tell her how firmly she was planted there.

Three paces brought them together. His insistent hold on her silk-covered shoulders radiated heat throughout his body. He tilted her chin up with the tip of his finger and watched as she struggled to blink back tears, her crystalline eyes nearly overflowing.

“Tell me the whole of it, so I can understand. Let me help you solve this problem so we can move forward.” He paused, unsure if he should speak his mind, but unwilling to give himself any reason for doubt once this night passed. “Together.”

His words skittered down her spine like a skipping stone on the surface of a lake before they sank and settled in her heart. Penelope heard the gravity in his voice, but hesitation held her speechless.
Oh
,
the disgrace of it all.
Having carried the shame of poverty and guilt of her actions for so long, as well as the humiliation of being jilted at the altar, it would feel wonderful to share the burden, if only for one night. From the first day she’d met Phineas, he’d proved nothing except considerate and charming, the epitome of chivalry, and she’d reluctantly returned his kindness with half truths and elusive answers. Yet something in his expression gave her strength.

She squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the tears to slide free as indecision swelled and pushed her emotions past their limit.

“I’m sorry.” The words whispered over her lips.

His warm mouth found the corners of her lids. The comfort of his tender caress reached her core and she shuddered with the expression, her eyes sealed tight; too afraid of what she might see reflected in his glittering gaze this time if she dared open them.

Instead, the press of his lips met hers in a kiss of true longing, as if he sought the same solace as she, and the give and take of their embrace was the only thing that mattered. It all at once transformed into hot liquid heat, his devastating kiss tearing her apart piece by piece, and completing her all the same. She lost herself to his strength, allowing the feelings she suppressed for so long to consume and ignite a burning path to her heart.

In a breath, they were one, as though he’d forever held back the same tide of longing. A shuddered sigh escaped as he leaned in a fraction and captured her mouth more fully. His insistent kiss, hungry with want, reeled her senses from his ardent demand, the strong press of his body, the delicious sleek shape of his smooth shifting muscles tight against her breast. She parted her lips, a beguiling invitation, and in swept his tongue, greedily seeking hers, rubbing in a slow sensual dance that hinted at intimacies and forbidden desires. She had never experienced anything to compare, never imagined the tidal wave of sensations that rushed through her body and urged her to treasure his caress.

Releasing inhibition, she melted into the wall of his body, absorbing his heat and surrendering to his touch. He smelled heavenly of rich cologne and masculine strength; the heady combination of his nearness and intent an anxious aphrodisiac. She tunneled her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer. He answered with a deep murmur of approval, his body flush against hers, the thin silk of her evening wrapper barely a barrier to the insistence of his ardor.

He left her lips to explore her neck and her eyes shot open, immediately bereft, her breathing high and fast with the unbearable urgency to have him return. She needed him, begged for him, whether she deserved his affection or not, all she knew was sensation and aching want. He nipped a path to her shoulder, spreading the wrapper wide in one strong tug. It slid to the floor in a silky puddle. The tips of her breasts tightened, hard against the press of his strong chest and she yearned to be closer, to feel his skin, hot and hard, against her own. She withdrew, the width of a suggestion, and with trembling fingers removed his waistcoat, dropping it to the carpet beside her robe. She reached to untie his cravat, but he stayed her fingers, intertwining them in his own as he recaptured her mouth, his tongue creating delicious friction with each rub and tug, his teeth on her bottom lip, drawing with sweet pleasure. With a curt snap he removed his cravat, abandoning the cloth with a grunt of approval. He paused to cradle her face and she lost herself in the sultry invitation of his amber eyes.

Emboldened by pent desire, she pressed a kiss to the cleft in his chin, her tongue dragging across the indentation before she moved upward to his delicious mouth, her bid for sensual attention welcomed with a slow liquid grin. He groaned his appreciation as she slipped her tongue into his mouth to explore with curious passion, the taste of him, the feel of his teeth against the satin of her lips, the sheer power of their tongues rubbing and igniting the heat within her, low and deep. With reckless passion, she drew on his tongue and he embraced her tighter, his hands cupping her bottom, matching their bodies in the most intimate places.

When he spoke, his voice was a low seductive murmur in the near darkness of the room whispering over her skin, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake.

“Sweet heaven, you feel incredible.”

His palm covered her breast and before she could appreciate the titillating heat of his touch, his mouth replaced his fingers, sucking through the silk, the wet fabric clinging to the peak, making the experience wicked and blissful and terribly forbidden. She gasped as his teeth brushed over her nipple, arching in instinct, offering him more of her, in return needing more of him.

“You make me want everything, every bit of you,
chère amie
.” His voice, no more than a silky rasp.

His hands spanned her waist as he kissed her again, his tongue curling against hers in a devilish caress, and she had the dizzying sensation of falling and floating, helplessly succumbing to a tide of passion rippling through her with increasing intensity.

The coaxing pressure of his hands moved her backward and he lifted her easily, setting her atop the quilt-covered table with extreme care. His hot searing kiss eased her down to the tabletop while the heat of his body enveloped her. He paused, only the slightest movement as he broke their embrace.

“Are you alright,
chérie
?”

She thought she heard him catch his breath and knew he would stop if she gave the slightest indication, but she’d never dreamed such exquisite sensations existed. Answering quickly, her smile in her words, “This is very naughty,” she couldn’t conceal the breathy note of desire. “But it feels so good.”

He claimed another hot kiss. “You…” He nuzzled the corner of her mouth, his tongue catching in a devilish flick. “Are a continual surprise.”

He paused to remove his shirt in an effortless motion and she watched him, fascinated with the corded beauty of his chest. His arms were banded with finely chiseled muscles, each smooth flex an invitation to touch. She bit her lower lip before coasting her trembling fingertips across his skin. He was all squared power and tight sinew and she splaying her palms over his hard body, wishing to memorize the strong contours and shadowed crease of each movement. Her eyes glimpsed the hair at the center of his chest and she itched to bury her fingers, to pull him closer and experience the erotic delight of his bare chest against hers.

He called her name and his intense stare robbed her of breath, her eyes shyly watching as he unbuttoned the front of her night rail and bunched the fabric at her waist.

“You are absolute perfection, every inch of you.” A low growl punctuated his statement. “And I intend to taste every inch.”

He caressed her cheek, before kissing a hot path down her neck, across her shoulders to her breasts where he suckled and lathed each peak with reverence and attention. He nibbled and nipped until she ached with need and something else she couldn’t rightfully name but knew her body demanded.

Each time he brought her into his mouth, a maelstrom of sensations tightened and built like a storm deep inside. When his hand kneaded her breast, it was little relief, teasing the sensitive peak, pinching and grazing it between his fingertips with tortuous delight. She was wet with the want to feel him touch her where the feelings began and grew, demanding attention. She wriggled impatiently and his chuckle against her skin was a sensual rasp.

“What is it, my love? Do you not like this? Do you want me to stop?”

His words vibrated against the flat of her stomach and an overpowering rush of sensation prickled her skin, winding and tightening below. She ached for him to touch her there, to make the feelings stop and never stop. His body boxed hers in, his strength filling the narrow space between them. Her hands braced his biceps, her fingers holding firm, as she raised her bottom, the slightest movement. He murmured something she could not comprehend, his hands coasting over her thighs, easing them apart, while he whispered French words and delicious endearments she couldn’t understand but nevertheless cherished.

His palms rested at the apex of her thighs and he slowly ran his fingertip downward, parting the damp intimate curls of her mound. Her body trembled with the sensual caress.

“Phineas.” Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.

“What do you want me to do, my sweet? Do you wish me to stop?” A note of tender amusement laced his words.

She could barely whisper her request. “Touch me. Please. I need you—” She drew a tremulous breath. “Touch me there.”

He waited no longer, bringing the warm velvet of his kiss down to hers with a groan of desire lost inside the sweetness of her mouth. Obediently his fingers parted her, sliding between the slick folds of her sex, giving her everything she asked for and more, her mind spinning, her body awash with sensation.

Too soon he pulled away, a scant space, and she knew he watched her, her eyes closed long before as she could no longer think or reason, her soft cries of pleasure filling the silent room with shameless desperation.

“You are so wet, Penelope, so lovely and tight and deliciously wet for me.”

He murmured her name, a deep timbre in the near-darkness, and the sensation building within her tightened, coiled, wrapping her in ecstasy the same way her fingers twisted the quilt beneath her. Her nails scraped the tabletop, evoking the scent of lemon oil amidst the musky scent of their love play.

Her need grew unbearably impatient. No sooner did he draw his fingers from her then he slid them back inside, each time a little deeper, a little fuller, his thumb rubbing the peak of her sex in exquisite circles, her hips matching the motion with an erotic cadence, the tumult of building passion unbearably wonderful. It was all too much, the sleek friction of his fingertips, the cool pressure of the ring he wore against the hot heat of her body, the sweet scent of their ardor.

She strained to withhold a moan, biting her bottom lip, skimming her palms across his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair, and seeking an anchor; all the while his maddening caresses did not stop, her pulse set in an erratic race that threatened to overtake her. This overwhelming bliss, each tantalizing stroke, intensified and subsided in a persistent rhythm urging her towards something out of reach and unknown, beautiful and unexplainable. In a silky rasp he whispered sensual endearments and erotic images, urging her to find what she sought and she wanted it with all her being. It teased and tempted, so close, the pleasure he promised.