The Saint Who Stole My Heart: A Regency Rogues Novel (19 page)

Elena grasped her hands together so tightly she feared
losing a finger. “Not to put too fine a point on it, my lord,” she began, jutting her chest out and standing as straight as she could. “But yes, I am, by far, the most intelligent one within our friendly circle, here, with the exception of Lady Mowbray.”

The marchioness rapped Dash on the shoulder a second time, and then pointed the fan at Lord Finesmith. “You’ve hardly half your wits left, thanks to your hunting accident ten years back,” she began sternly. “But you, Lady Meeks, should know better.”

Lady Meeks’s damnably perfect mouth formed an “O” of surprise, but she said nothing.

“And you, my boy,” Lady Mowbray pressed on, giving Dash a stern look of disapproval. “Your father would have never stood for such behavior. I dare say he’d have been rather disappointed in you this evening.”

Dash swallowed hard, though the insipid smile remained. “Come now, my lady, we were only playing.”

With my heart
, Elena couldn’t help but think, her hands nearly numb.

She wanted to strike him. Needed to make him understand what it was to feel trapped like an animal, completely at the mercy of a stranger with nowhere to turn. She wanted to hide, far away from the deplorable pain that was threatening to overtake her.

But she wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction—nor Lady Meeks. She couldn’t.

“Well, as much as I enjoy a bit of banter, I’m afraid I have a headache. Lady Meeks, Lord Finesmith,” Elena said, biting her tongue while curtsying to the two.

“Do take the coach, my dear,” the marchioness replied gently. “Dash will see that it’s brought round.”

“No,” Elena protested instantly, rising and straightening her skirts. “That is, I’ll ask a footman to call for the coach. I would not want to ruin the viscount’s evening.”

“I believe he’s managed to do that on his own,” Lady
Mowbray said. “Besides, it is the least he can do. Now go, you two. Miss Barnes requires rest.”

Elena turned to the crowd and waded in, hoping against hope that she would lose the man among the sea of faces—and never clap eyes on him again.

“You were not meant to accompany me.”

Dash tapped the roof of the landau coach and it rolled into motion, the matching bags expertly steered into traffic before turning down Pall Mall Street. “I know that,” he bit out, instantly regretting his response.

Elena folded her hands in her lap and stared out the window.

“I would like to apologize,” Dash began, harnessing his temper.

“Apologize?” Elena repeated in a lethal tone. “For what, my lord?”

Dash didn’t want to play this game. In truth, he was tired of games. Tired of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Exhausted by the need to push Elena away at every turn.

God, he’d made a mess of things. He wanted her, but knew that he shouldn’t need her. Her safety was threatened by Smeade if she stayed and continued to work her way into his heart, and yet he was desperate for her not to go. She’d challenged his credibility until he’d been forced to prove his stupidity, his worthlessness to her that evening in the only way he knew how.

“You know very well, Elena,” he answered quietly, staring at her.

Her lips trembled as she fought hard to maintain her composure. “That horrid woman tortured me for her own pleasure and you did nothing. How could you? I thought that …”

“God dammit, Elena,” Dash spat out, leaning forward until his hands rested on the velvet cushion on
each side of her. “Finish the bloody sentence. You thought what? That you knew me? Don’t you see, that’s the problem. You do—better than anyone else ever has. It terrifies me that I’ve allowed you so close.”

“Yes, it’s true. I thought you’d revealed yourself to me—tiny glimpses here and there,” Elena replied angrily, averting her eyes toward the window. “In the library alcove and standing before your mother’s portrait. And your obvious interest in the burr puzzle—the mention of Sun Tzu’s book? These things found me contriving all sorts of fanciful realities about you. But tonight you proved me wrong. The man I thought you were would not have acted so cruelly.”

Dash swore under his breath. “You’re too insightful for your own good. Do you know why I hide my intelligence? To keep people away. And it’s worked up until this point. But there’s something about you, Elena. I couldn’t help myself. Still can’t.”

She made to push him away. “If you truly cared for me, you’d never have allowed Lady Meeks to treat me in such a way. What do you think drove me from London all those years ago? It was women such as Lady Meeks. Beautiful on the outside, but harpies within.”

Dash wouldn’t move, no matter how Elena pressed. “You’re wrong. I do know everything about you—that’s why I let that shrew attack you. I need you gone—away from me. Out of my life.”

It was nearly the truth. And that was everything that he could give.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her hands slipping from his chest and landing softly in her lap.

She would comply, he thought bleakly. She was strong—the strongest woman he’d ever met. But his actions had cut her to the core. Elena would leave that very night, with as many books as possible stuffed into
her baggage, and disappear forever. All Dash had to do was say one simple word.

He looked hard into her eyes, willing his mouth to open and “yes” to tumble out. But he saw her soul in his reflection, and it undid him completely. He was utterly lost in her depths, and it felt so right.

“Don’t be such a gudgeon,” Dash demanded, taking hold of her upper arms and shaking her. “I want you. More than anything.”

Suddenly, the only thing that made sense in Dash’s disorganized and chaotic world was Elena. She was everything that was wrong, yet everything that could be right.

And he didn’t want to fight her anymore.

He pressed his lips to hers and took her mouth in a savage kiss, the feel of her breath on his as she reacted to his bold move only feeding the fire of desire growing in him.

She shoved him hard, and he released her reluctantly.

“Please,” he uttered, desperate for the feel of her once again.

Elena touched her lips with one hand, gently caressing where Dash’s lips had been but a moment before.

And then she slapped him hard across the cheek. “I will choose when I give myself completely, do you understand?”

“Of course,” Dash whispered, guilt and regret beginning to flood his senses.

“And I choose now.”

Elena grabbed his lapels and pulled him against her, crushing her lips to his.

Dash reached for the curtains and yanked them shut, repeating the process on the opposite side. “Circle the park,” he yelled to the coachman.

Bracing himself on his knees, he wrapped his arms about Elena’s waist and surrendered to the kiss, his
tongue seeking hers as his hands grabbed at the buttons on her dress.

Elena’s tongue touched his and she gasped, her breasts pressing against his chest as she sought to close what little space there was between them.

She brought her hands to his cravat and untied the knot, deftly pulling at the ends until it was released. She broke their kiss and started on his linen shirt. “I need to feel you against me.”

Dash’s cock throbbed at the sound of her words, his desire to be inside Elena matched by her hunger. He shrugged out of his coat and swiftly set to work on the buttons of his waistcoat, deftly releasing each one. Then he finished the work Elena had started on his shirt, yanking first one sleeve and then the other from his torso.

Elena tugged at his breeches, but they held. “Hmmmm …” she uttered breathlessly, continuing to pull at the fabric.

“It’s your turn, Elena,” Dash instructed, gesturing for her to turn around. “Once we’ve lightened you of your dress, I’ll show you.”

She hesitantly obeyed, carefully standing in the small space and turning as he’d told her to do. Elena braced herself with both hands splayed out against the walls of the coach while Dash finished with the remaining buttons. He reached for her right shoulder, slowly pulling the gown down her slim arm before turning his attention to the other.

Once the fabric bunched at her waist, he untied her laced corset, and then pushed the dress to the floor of the coach. His hands came around to cup both of her breasts and she leaned her head back against him.

He kneaded the heavy, deliciously soft orbs, and then rolled the tips in his fingers, lightly pinching until Elena
moaned with pleasure. Dash reached for her stockings, but Elena stopped him, her hand holding on to his.

“I believe the breeches are next.”

Elena desperately wanted to face him—to discover his body and all that he offered to her. She glanced down the length of herself, relieved that her corset and stockings continued to cover at least a portion of her abundant flesh.

“Elena,” Dash crooned, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

She steadied herself against the window while turning around, taking in the sight of Lord Carrington’s sculpted chest. It was far more spectacular than any work of art she’d seen in person—and, she’d ventured to guess, any she would encounter ever again.

She wished that simply staring at the man would satisfy the cravings that threatened to overtake her entire being. But she needed to see more—touch more. And feel more.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a reverent tone, drawing Elena’s eyes up to meet his.

And he meant it. His worshipful gaze told her so.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, feeling shy once the admission had left her mouth.

He took her face in his hands and held it, looking at her as though he were memorizing every last measure of space, from the top of her forehead to her chin. “Say nothing. Only believe that I speak the truth.”

Elena began to cry. “Please, don’t …”

“Don’t what?” he asked softly, concern clouding his eyes.

“Don’t make me cry,” she whispered, biting her lip.

He leaned in and kissed her. “I promise you, there’s
nothing I wouldn’t do to dry your tears. Simply say the word.”

“This,” she uttered, grabbing the curve of her hips, “and this,” she continued, lifting her breasts as though they were bags of flour. “They’re not beautiful. They’re ample. Robust. Generous. But not beautiful.”

Dash quieted her mouth with his finger, emitting a shushing sound from his lips. “Those are words of your choosing, not mine. To me, you are perfect.”

He reached for his boots, pulling the right one off and leaving it on the floor of the carriage before removing the second. Then he unbuttoned his breeches and tugged them down, bringing his smalls with them. “I’ll show you how beautiful you are, Elena, with my body.”

He stepped out of the garment and kicked it aside, reaching for his stockings and yanking them off.

He knelt before her, his head bowed as though he were a slave at the feet of mighty Aphrodite. Elena looked down at the man, his muscular shoulders and back, his perfectly formed buttocks and strong thighs. She wanted him. But it was more than that. She wanted to see herself as he did—wanted to know what it was to join with someone until you didn’t know where you ended and the other began.

“Please, show me what you see,” she whispered, her hands coming to rest on his capable shoulders.

Dash lifted his head and nodded, then began to slowly roll one stocking down Elena’s leg, his mouth placing delicate, wet kisses on the inside of her thigh, then her calf, and finally the arch of her foot. He started on the second stocking and Elena closed her eyes, the sensation of his lips and tongue on her intoxicating. She gripped his shoulders tightly, the sway of the carriage adding to the heady spell he cast.

“Sit,” he murmured, gently taking her hands and helping her back onto the velvet bench.

Elena allowed him to guide her and dazedly relaxed against the tufted seat. She made to cross her legs, but Dash took her knee in his hand and opened her legs wide, settling himself between.

He rested his hands on each side of her head against the wall of the coach and kissed her, tenderly at first, the pressure and heat growing slowly.