To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) (26 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)
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He could feel her fingers digging into his muscles. Convinced she had a strong enough grip, he led her to the edge of the lobby, back toward the theater. The shouts and cursing grew louder as they drew nearer to the escalating brawl, but surprisingly this area held few fleeing patrons.
The marquess never broke stride. Turning left, he headed directly for a door hidden behind a row of velvet curtains. Thankfully it was unlocked. Trevor gratefully pushed it open and they spilled into an alley, filling their lungs with great gulps of fresh air.
Trevor exhaled, closed his eyes, and flopped back against the rough brick wall. His arms were aching from the strain of pushing through the crowd; his head was pounding with shock and the residual rush of adrenaline.
“Are you all right?”
Meredith’s trembling voice roused the marquess from his stupor. He paused another moment to catch his breath, then turned. She was slumped, exhausted, against the wall. Her face was ashen, her hair mussed, and a piece of silk had been torn from the bodice of her gown.
“I ache all over, but I am in one piece, with my limbs in working order,” he answered. “And you?”
“I’m not sure.”
He found her hand, and squeezed it in comfort. She returned the pressure, and he was grateful to feel her fingers were firm and strong.
“Lord, that was awful,” he muttered. “I would not be surprised to learn that people were killed tonight.”
Meredith made a small sound in her throat and he thought she might burst into tears. “I kept seeing you through the crowd, so close, and yet it felt like you were miles away, for I could not reach you. Then someone shoved me hard, knocking the breath from my lungs. My ears rang and my vision went blurry as I toppled to the ground. I feared I would never regain my feet, that I would be crushed and trampled.
“Then suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, you appeared.” In the shadowy light of the street lamp, Trevor saw her bite down on trembling lips. “You saved my life.”
Her tone was fervent. Yet it was the look of wonder and amazement on her face that brought forth a surge of emotions in him. Never before in his life had he felt so accomplished, so important, so bloody useful.
It should have frightened him, these feelings that came over him with such unbearable force, yet instead it warmed and soothed him, leaving him feeling strong and important.
Trevor noticed then that Meredith had begun to shake violently. She swayed toward him, and the marquess caught her up in his embrace, holding her tightly, almost savagely against his chest.
Mine,
his brain screamed with possessive determination.
Mine to keep safe and protect.
He lifted her ankles and scooped her up in his arms. “Hold on to my neck. My carriage is at the front of the theater, and there is sure to be a large crowd.”
Meredith nodded and settled back, her expression softer and more vulnerable than he had ever known it.
The marquess was right. There was a large gathering in front of the theater, but the nature of the crowd had once again shifted. Now safe from imminent danger, people were milling around discussing the event. Some were pale and dazed, while others were shouting, trying to locate the members of their party. A few were offering assistance to the injured.
Amazingly, Trevor was able to locate his father. The duke had managed to escape before the worst of the crush had occurred. He had escorted Miss Harriet and Miss Elizabeth safely to Wingate’s coach and had come in search of the marquess and Meredith.
“Is she badly injured?” the duke asked in a concerned voice.
“Just shaken. But we need to get her home as quickly as possible.”
The duke nodded. “My carriage awaits. I’ll have one of the grooms find your coachman and tell him you are returning to the house with me.”
A few minutes later, they were climbing into the duke’s black barouche. Sitting beside her, Trevor could still feel his wife trembling, could feel the tension in her body. Without saying a word, he shifted in his seat and cradled her in his arms.
The carriage shade was open. He moved to a spot where the moonlight streaked inside. Meredith’s impassive countenance was bathed in silver, and for an instant he thought he might have mistaken her fear.
Then, with a small cry of distress, she turned her face into his chest and tightened her arms around his neck. A lump formed in his throat. Her complete trust was humbling, as if she believed there was no one in the world more capable of protecting her than he.
The duke signaled his driver, and the coach lurched forward. Trevor gathered Meredith closer, and as they traveled the darkened streets he tried his hardest to make her feel safe and secure.
An hour later Meredith was seated in an overstuffed chair in her bedchamber with a glass of brandy in her hand. Though she was trying valiantly to stay calm, she could feel the edges of panic gripping at her composure.
“I am starting to feel better.” Meredith smiled wanly at her husband as he paced back and forth. “Truly.”
“Drink.” He tipped the edge of her glass and forced her to take a large swallow. “Better, my arse. Your face is pale as a ghost and you’re still trembling all over.”
Meredith wet her lips. She wanted nothing more than to shout a denial, but her teeth were chattering too hard. It all seemed so ridiculous, but now that it was over, she felt even more frightened, more at a loss to control her body and emotions.
“I fear I might have lost one of the diamonds from my necklace.” With a shaking hand, she held it up for Trevor to inspect.
“Will you forget about the damned necklace?” He snatched it out of her hands and flung it onto a nearby table. “It does not matter.”
Meredith blinked. She would not cry. She would not show weakness. She would remain calm and coherent, for she had something important to tell her husband about this horrible incident tonight. Given his current state of agitation, she suspected he would not be pleased.
“Those are not my personal property, they are family jewels,” Meredith said softly. She met Trevor’s eyes. “If I have damaged the piece, I want to fix it. ’Tis my responsibility.”
The marquess knelt in front of her. He stretched out a hand and lifted a fallen lock of hair back from her face. She could see he was struggling to stay calm. “Since it appears to be so damned important to you, I will make certain the jeweler examines the necklace. If it needs to be repaired, I will instruct him to do so immediately.”
“Will you send me the bill?”
“Meredith.” He tightened the hold he had on her wrist.
She burst into a nervous giggle. The strain on his temper was showing. Best not to push it past the breaking point. “Thank you, Trevor.”
“I need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened at the theater,” the marquess said.
Meredith settled back in her chair and took a small sip of her drink. “I’ll try, but it all happened so fast. There was the crush of the crowd, that surge that seemed to carry me off my feet. I felt someone bump into me, jostle me from behind. I was so worried about staying on my feet, so frightened that if I fell I would be trampled that I hardly noticed who had shoved me. But it happened again. And then a third time.
“That final impact drove me to my knees. I remember trying to catch myself, but there was nothing steady to grab. It was all a mass of tangled limbs. That’s when I felt the hands.”
“Hands? You mean my hands, hauling you upright?”
“No.” She lowered, then raised her chin. “The hands around my neck.”
The marquess leaned closer and for the first time noticed the marks. There were bruises around her throat, deep red marks that were beginning to darken. His face paled as his fists curled in anger.
“Were they the hands of a man?”
“I believe so. I opened my lips to scream, but discovered I did not have the breath to make a sound.” Meredith shuddered. “Though I know you do not wish to hear it, I am sure he was trying to take my necklace,” she said defensively. “And he nearly succeeded.”
The marquess sat back on his haunches. “Was there anything else? Anything that happened before this incident?”
She squirmed in her seat. Finally she whispered, “The stares and scrutiny.”
“What?”
How could she possibly explain something she did not fully understand, something she secretly feared was a part of her imagination? Yet a voice deep inside her head urged her to try.
“ ’Tis hardly a unique experience for me to be the subject of so much fascination for the
ton.
Over the past few weeks, I have almost gotten used to the stares and whispering. Yet tonight it was greatly heightened. I am convinced we garnered so much attention this evening because we appeared together at the theater.” She smiled faintly. “We so rarely attend any of the same society functions, it seemed only natural there would be considerable curiosity and talk.”
“I felt it, too,” Trevor admitted. “Is it always so intense?”
Meredith shrugged. “Since our marriage there have been times I felt myself being scrutinized by what seemed like thousands of interested spectators. But it is not the multitudes that rattle me. Lately I have had this perception, this feeling, that one single person, one individual is taking an inordinate interest in my movements.”
“Do you have any idea who it may be?”
“No.” She let out a small laugh. “Which is why I am convinced I might be imagining it all. And yet . . .”
Meredith looked up. Trevor’s gaze was fixed forward, regarding her scrupulously. He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, then shook his head as though changing his mind. “You are a levelheaded woman, not given to imaginings. However, you have had a terrible fright this evening. We shall discuss this again in the morning, after you have rested.”
Meredith nodded. Perhaps it would be best to continue the discussion in the morning. Though she did in truth feel exhausted from mental, physical, and emotional fatigue, she wondered how she would possibly sleep. The fear and panic that had overtaken her at the theater lingered still, a dark shadow of fear in the corner of her mind.
“Where is Rose?” Meredith searched the bedchamber for her maid. “She generally waits up for me in my sitting room.”
“I dismissed her. I thought she might become frightened at seeing you so upset. Shall I ring for her?”
“Don’t bother. If you would just unhook the center buttons at the back of my gown, I can manage the rest.”
She stood and presented her back to her husband. The feel of his warm fingers drove away some of the chill. Yet all too quickly he had accomplished his task. She turned, clutching the gaping gown securely to her chest.
It suddenly became difficult to swallow. Meredith wanted nothing more than to beg him to stay with her, yet she could not ask. “Are you going out tonight?”
For a moment Trevor held himself rigid, as if struggling for control. The atmosphere was suddenly charged with a new tension, a different sensation—the alluring pull of sexual longing.
“I think it best if I remain here.”
“In my bedchamber?”
The blue of his eyes became deeper, stormier. But he said nothing. Meredith lifted her chin and studied a slight crack in the plaster work on the ceiling. Her anguish must have shown in her face.
“I shall stay until you fall asleep.”
The independent, prideful streak inside Meredith fairly screamed at her to object, to deny she needed anything from him. Yet her need for comfort was stronger than her pride.
Silently Meredith went behind the dressing screen to change. She deliberately chose a revealing nightgown of sheer silk, and instead of braiding her hair as usual she left it tumbling wantonly down her back. Pressing her lips together in a tight line, she took a deep breath, then walked boldly back into the bedchamber.
Trevor was sitting in a wing chair beside her bed. His handsome features were composed into an unreadable mask, yet as she brushed near she felt as if he were impaling her with his startling blue eyes.
Meredith’s heart skipped several beats as she climbed into the large, lonely bed. Her husband, the man she loved with all of her heart, moved not an inch. In the still silence of the night, he seemed more distant, more unattainable than ever.
Still, he had proven his regard for her most tangibly this evening by risking his life to save hers. His strong, protective presence brought not only a sexual longing, but a deep measure of safety and comfort.
Meredith drew an unsteady breath, determined to overcome the tangled knot of emotions twisting inside her. She pulled the covers to her chin and settled herself on her side, her back to the marquess. She lay there stiffly, willing herself to relax. Though she would never have believed it possible given all that had occurred this night, eventually she drifted off to sleep.
Sixteen
Cold, strong fingers grabbed Meredith’s hair, twisting the thick golden tresses and yanking it tight. Her neck was stretched and open, an inviting, vulnerable target. First she felt the menacing grip of his fingers. Then his hands encircled her throat. Closing, tightening, they pressed against her, choking her until she could get no air, could draw no breath.
She fought wildly, thrashing her legs, kicking her feet. Her arms were leaden. She could not lift them. Panicking, she tried to flee, to move away from the attacker, but she could not evade the strong hands so intent on doing her harm. Fear slammed into her chest. She could not escape!
Suffocating her scream of terror, Meredith somehow yanked herself away from the nightmare. She woke up abruptly, her skin cold and clammy, her breathing harsh and shallow.
She sat straight up in bed, glancing hopefully at the wing chair beside her bed. It was empty. No doubt Trevor had kept his word and waited till she fell asleep before leaving, but that thought brought her little comfort, for her bedchamber was now filled with an uneasy, lonely silence.
’Tis just a dream, it cannot hurt you
. Meredith repeated the words in her mind as she shifted her back against the headboard and slowly lowered herself to her elbows.
With determination, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, to calm her inner demons. But the images would not abate. Knowing she was clinging to her sanity by the barest of threads, Meredith threw off the covers in frustration.
She slid out of bed and felt her way to the far side of the room. Her fingers found the window latch, and she quietly opened it. The sudden blast of air surprised her, yet it relieved her as well, for the shock made her feel very much alive. She stood there for several long minutes, breathing deeply, hoping the air would somehow cleanse her thoughts. It did not.
Perhaps it was the darkness, so sinister and complete, that was rattling her nerves. Meredith made her way to the low table and fumbled to light a candle. The soft glow momentarily calmed her nerves. She glanced back at her bed. The rumpled sheets and angled pillows were rather unappealing.
Meredith turned in the opposite direction and glanced at the door that connected her bedchamber to Trevor’s. There was no light shining beneath the door, no indication he was awake. She tilted her head and listened intently. All was quiet—no snoring, no rustling sheets.
For an instant she panicked, thinking he might not even be in his bedchamber. But no, he had promised her he would stay home tonight, and she believed he would keep his word. He must be asleep.
Meredith chewed nervously at her lower lip. Perhaps if she was very quiet and very careful, she could slip into his bed without waking him.
“That is where I really want to be,” she whispered, making up her mind. “Where I need to be.”
She did not bother to put on a robe. Padding barefoot across the thick carpet, she moved with stealthy efficiency and determination. Once at the door, she turned the latch slowly, so as not to make a sound. Swinging the door open, Meredith took a small step, halting in the doorway.
She extinguished her candle and set it on top of a large dresser. Thankfully, Trevor slept with the curtains of his bed and the draperies of the windows open. There was just enough moonlight streaking through the windows to illuminate the objects in the chamber. If she was very careful, she should be able to negotiate the room without tripping over the furniture and raising a racket.
Meredith waited for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the limited light The shadows were thick, but she could make out the chests and armoires that lined the wall, the chairs and tables positioned around the room.
Trevor lay in the huge canopied four-poster bed, sprawled on his stomach. One arm was flung over his head; the other rested by his side. The sheets were bunched at his waist, revealing the well-defined muscles of his bare shoulders and back.
Meredith assumed he was asleep, though she stood too far away to hear the even rise and fall of his breathing. She needed to be closer. Crossing her arms and hugging herself, Meredith made her way silently to the bed. She hesitated, wavering a bit as she drew near.
Driven by fear, she had felt determined walking in here. Now she suddenly felt unsure at invading the marquess’s intimate quarters. What would she do if he refused to allow her to stay? That horrifying question kept her still and quiet for several long moments.
Uneasily, Meredith glanced about the room again. Her eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, and she could now ascertain more specifically the contents. There were several comfortable upholstered chairs, even a long chaise. She could most likely be content sleeping in one of those for the night if absolutely necessary. It was certainly far more appealing than staying in her lonely, empty chamber.
The sudden chime of the clock on the mantelpiece made her jump. Startled, Meredith’s fears surfaced, this time accompanied by anger. She despised these feelings of not being safe, hated the taste of fear. Yet she could not deny they existed so strongly inside her. Would they ever leave?
She advanced five steps closer to the bed, overcome with a strong and painful desire to curl up in Trevor’s arms and hold herself close to his chest until all her uncertainties faded.
Holding her breath to ensure she made no noise, Meredith studied him in the moonlight. She briefly considered slipping in beside him, but she loathed to disturb his slumber, uncertain of his reaction if he awoke and found her in his bed.
Trevor’s features were oddly commanding, even in sleep. Meredith slowly let out her breath, then drew in another and held it as the seconds ticked away. As much as she might want to, she could not simply stand here until the dawn broke.
There was movement on the bed. Trevor’s head lifted off the pillow. “Has something happened?” he asked groggily.
Meredith cleared her throat. “I awoke and found it impossible to return to sleep. I fear the events of this evening have left me excessively emotional.”
He studied her, though she doubted he could see much more than the outline of her torso in the moonlight. “You are a woman. It is to be expected.”
Normally his words and tone would bring a rise of indignation from her lips, but she had no right to anger, for he spoke the truth. “I hope I did not wake you,” she said.
He raised himself on one elbow, running his hand down his face. “I had only just dozed off myself,” he admitted.
“Then I apologize for disturbing you. But I did not know what else to do.”
“Do you want me to sit by your bed again?”
“No, for if I awake after you leave the problem will return.” Meredith hesitated, giving him a doubtful frown. “I was hoping a different solution could be found.”
Taut seconds passed while Meredith gazed into his eyes. Trevor returned her regard, searching her face intently before he looked away. “I suppose you could stay in my chamber.”
Meredith blinked. It was hardly the most enthusiastic invitation. “Are you certain?” Her heart stilled, waiting for his answer.
“No. But stay anyway.”
She looked around. “Where?”
He let out a loud sigh. “The bed is comfortable. And very large.”
“Are you inviting me to sleep in your bed?”
Trevor muttered something about summoning every last ounce of his willpower before throwing back the covers.
The simple gesture seemed to suddenly change the atmosphere in the room from uncertainty to anticipation. Though she had entered the room because of her fear, Meredith realized far more could result from her staying the night in her husband’s bed.
Her gaze dropped from his handsome face to his bare chest. She smiled seductively, as though at last acknowledging he was naked. Meredith slowly, sensuously slid over the bed, allowing her nightgown to ride up her thigh all the way to her hip.
The marquess’s eyebrows slowly rose as awareness flared in his eyes. Meredith could barely breathe. He leaned close and took her hands in his. He felt warm and strong, she thought, momentarily distracted by his touch.
“I prefer the left side of the bed,” he said solemnly. “I hope you don’t object.”
Meredith lifted her chin. “Not at all. Though I will warn you I am a restless sleeper who tends to spread herself all over the mattress. I will probably kick you mercilessly.”
He shrugged and gestured broadly. She lifted herself up and climbed in beside him. The motion caused a cascade of golden hair to fall over her shoulder.
“Your hair is exquisite.”
Meredith paused in the act of tucking the stray locks behind her ears. “Thank you. I have long thought of cutting it short, in the French style, but worry I might look like a boy.”
“Not with those curves.”
Meredith ducked her head in embarrassment, yet she was secretly thrilled he had noticed her womanly curves. She settled herself stiffly on her back, careful to keep to her side of the mattress. Stifling a giggle of nerves, she waited with eager anticipation for her handsome husband to turn to her with desire.
The minutes dragged, and nothing happened. Finally, Meredith turned to him in disappointment and frustration. “Are we truly going to sleep?” she whispered.
She felt his entire body tense at her question. He said nothing, but his thrashing legs and restless movements seemed to suggest he was fighting some inner battle. At last he groaned and turned toward her. He moved closer, nipped her ear, and whispered, “We shall sleep later, dearest. Much later.”
He reached out and angled her chin with one hand while the other moved to the back of her head, urging her forward. Then his mouth descended on hers, invading with a possessive claim she found thrilling. His kiss was slow and sensual, his lips brushing back and forth over hers, coaxing them to open for him.
Her hands slid up his hard chest, curving over his shoulders and around his neck. He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers and in a voice thick with desire asked, “Are you still frightened?”
For her answer Meredith kissed him back with all the love and desperation in her heart. Her tongue traced the shape of his mouth, then gently sucked on his lower lip. His response was overwhelming. His mouth became insistent and hungry: his hands wandered possessively over her back and the sides of her breasts.
Meredith shuddered as her body began to respond, began to come alive. For him. She spread her hand over the solid wall of his chest, sliding her fingers through the short, golden matting of hair. His skin felt hot, his nipples hard and tight as she lightly grazed them with her palm.
But it was his kisses that tantalized her so completely. The way he tasted drove her wild. Meredith stretched her neck willingly, offering herself to him. Trevor eagerly complied, pressing sweet wet kisses to her jaw and throat and behind her ear.
Meredith’s hand raised and smoothed through his hair. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and upper chest, could feel the heat pouring from his hard body. A shiver coursed through her. She leaned into his strength, savoring his warmth and the excitement it brought to her entire essence.
He shifted, pulling her closer to him. One of his hands slipped down her neck and shoulder, sliding along her side and over her breast. Meredith arched herself encouragingly toward him, eager to leap beyond the languid pace Trevor had set for their lovemaking.
His palms were hot against her cloth-covered skin as they stroked her breasts. She craved his touch with a fierce longing, an almost desperate need. Meredith thrust her chest forward, and her silent pleas did not go unnoticed. Trevor brushed his thumbs over her nipples, teasing those sensitive points until they hardened into tight buds.
Meredith’s eyes closed, and a sound emerged from her throat. She fidgeted against the mattress, anticipation building deep within her body. At last Trevor’s hands traveled beneath her nightgown and she lifted herself up, encouraging his explorations.
He grasped a bare nipple between his thumb and index finger and applied exactly the degree of pressure she craved. Meredith tipped her head back and inhaled deeply, allowing herself to experience the sexual need.
She tightened her grip around his shoulders and tilted her head for a kiss. Meredith’s tongue tangled with Trevor’s in a torrid dance, thrusting back and forth in a mating ritual as old as time.
Suddenly Trevor broke the kiss, bent his head, and took one of her nipples in his mouth. Meredith nearly screamed. She shivered with pleasure and shook violently as the tension coiled down through her body, settling between her thighs. She felt the dampness, the surge of fluid that would make her body ready to receive him.
He moved his mouth to her other breast, and she clutched his head, curling her fingers through his hair as he laved that sensitive peak to hardness. It was a peculiar, almost frightening sensation, for it fed a hunger for something even greater.
Trevor’s hand slid down her lower body. He pulled her nightgown up to her waist, baring her, then tenderly stroked her hips, flanks, and upper thighs. Next his questing fingers feathered lightly across her stomach, making the muscles jump in eager anticipation. Meredith gasped loudly when he cupped her moist womanhood with his palm, tangling his fingers in the springy curls between her thighs.

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