Perilous Risk (13 page)

Her blood chilled at his tone. He’d always been so kind, so polite with her. He’d never used a tone like that before. She felt hunted, accused. “Goodness, Stephen. He was my husband. Of course I had to go with him.”

“You encouraged him to petition for a transfer.”

Her heart began to pound. How could he possibly know that? “You don’t understand—”

“No, again, I understand perfectly.”

Why are you explaining yourself? You don’t owe him any explanations.

Yet, as she drew in a steadying breath, he kept staring at her with that accusing, angry look.

Hurt?

Yes, maybe there was hurt beneath his prickly exterior. She remembered the pain of their parting. The suddenness and the vividness of the memory swept through her body, weakening her and her shoulders sagged. Her throat burned and she had to swallow.

“Donald was being bullied mercilessly by his commanding officer. It was making him ill. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.”

His jaw tightened and his lip curled upwards on one side. “Donald Howland would have been bullied no matter where he went in the Dragoons. It was his character. Other men sensed his weakness. You knew that.”

Pity for her late husband panged her heart. “That’s not true. He found acceptance.”

“From Captain Lloyd?”

“Yes.”

“Good old Captain Lloyd. Yes, Lord Ruel seems the soul of understanding and compassion.”

“He was in those days. You didn’t know him. You don’t know him.”

“I know enough.” Stephen’s expression was harder, colder. It gave her chills.

“Please, try to understand, he was my husband. I had to put his needs first—”

“I do understand. Believe me.”

“He found acceptance.
Acceptance.
You don’t know what that meant.”

“Within three months of your arrival in his regiment, Captain Lloyd blackened both Donald Howland’s eyes and cracked a few of his ribs .”

“Oh…” The sound escaped Rebecca, echoing with misery. Why must he dredge all this up? What the devil did any of it matter now?

Stephen raised his brows. “That’s some acceptance.”

“How could you know—”

“I have my sources.”

“You don’t know the circumstances.”

“I know all.”

“You think you know—”

“I know.”

A fiery ball swelled within her throat and her eyes burnt unbearably. She turned away.

You don’t understand…he’s broken. He can’t help himself.

He’s an animal.

Captain Lloyd, please don’t call my husband an animal. You don’t understand what—

All right, he’s a dumb, hurt animal, but an animal all the same. They only understand the law of fang and claw.

“Rebecca.”

Stephen’s voice startled her back into the moment.

“Yes?” she said, blankly.

“Why did you never tell me about Howland? Why didn’t you share that misery and fear with me?”

“You were just a boy.”

“And you think I wouldn’t have protected you? You think I wouldn’t have at least tried?”

“It would have been wrong of me to have burdened you like that.”

“I see.” His tone was sharp as a scythe.

“Utterly wrong. Wicked.”

“Yet, Captain Lloyd was only two years older and you threw all your burdens on his shoulders.”

“It is not quite like that.” Her throat grew tight under his accusing glare. “There’s a great deal of difference between eighteen and twenty.”

“And what is that difference?”

“The difference between a boy and a man.”

“Well, I am not a boy now.”

The edge in his voice made her catch her breath. But wait a moment. She had only done what was prudent. She’d done the right thing. Why was she allowing him to make her feel as though she were on trial? She exhaled, long and slow, trying to lose the feeling of tension. The feeling of being indicted. She met his gaze levelly. “No, you’re no longer a boy.”

“Why won’t you let me protect you?”

Yes, why was she having such a hard time trusting him? Her tired mind was slow to return its answers and her stomach began to knot under his continued accusatory stare. She drew her brows together, trying to put things just the right way, so that he would understand. “There are too many unanswered questions.”

“Such as what?”

His incredulous tone lit her ire and that jolt of emotion gave her the energy to better articulate herself. “You were just an equerry—and since when does the son of a printer’s assistant, without a university education and no family connections, become an equerry to a peer of the realm?”

Emotion flared in his eyes, making the irises brilliant as flares in a diamond in direct sunlight.

It sent a pang into the centre of her chest and made her feel abashed. The sharpness of her tone and sting of her words still lingered in her ears. She didn’t like to be unkind but he had pushed her to it. “Since when is such a man made a baron?”

She had said this last softly, carefully. She didn’t want to offend or hurt him further but it had to be said.

His expression hardened. “When he’s done a good job and his unique skills are highly valued.”

In the stiffest of tones, he’d said that as though it made perfect sense, as though he shouldn’t have to explain. But she knew the world. There was no way a boy of his beginnings could end up a baron. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you have a brother now, when you never did before?”

“Rebecca, those things have nothing to do with you and me. Nothing to do with tonight.”

“It has everything to do with you and me and tonight.” Feeling more ill at ease every moment, she jolted to her feet. “I do not
know
you.”

He looked up, his eyes blazing again with such blue intensity that her mouth went dry and her heart seemed to pause.

He stood.

Every self-protective instinct she possessed suddenly rushed to the fore, her heart leapt into life, thudding wildly. She jumped back several feet then turned and ran.

Her nape prickled and she sensed him following her.

Just as she reached the door, he deftly slipped in front of her and slammed his back against it, facing her with his body blocking her exit.

She cried out.

He reached down, plunged his hand into her hair. Tightened his hold. She froze, her heart pounding harder than ever.

God, she’d been right to fear testing him! Had been right to fear
him
!

But his stare pinned her and she remained rooted to the spot like a cornered hare.

He lowered his head. She felt her eyes widening. Her heart beat harder and harder, deafening thunder in her ears.

He put his mouth to hers.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t make a move.

Oh, God. Oh, God save me…

His full lips pressed hers, warm, soft, intense. She’d never known a man’s mouth to be so lushly sensual and yet so deliciously firm. From that touch, pleasure surged through her, tightening her nipples, and sending sparks of fire tingling into her belly and outward, all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t suppress the shudder that wracked her head to foot.

He lifted his head. Then he watched her, closely.

Edginess built inside her, combining with and intensifying the arousal pulsing in her blood. She licked her lips then let her breath out in a ragged sigh.

“Open to me, Rebecca.”

He’d spoken softly, oh so softly—but the steel beneath the gentleness sent shivers all over her. And not a little tingling excitement. Unable to bear the determined heat of his gaze, she stared at the bridge of his elegant straight nose. Dazed, afraid of him, yes, holy heavens yes, but far more frightened of the feelings that were rapidly leaping to life within her.

No, this couldn’t be happening. She had kept herself safe all these years since Jon. No emotionally dangerous entanglements. She was past all of this. He should be out chasing some young opera dancer tonight. She should be home, fast asleep in her chaste bed. Safe.

He put his hand to the corner of her jaw and applied slight yet steady pressure. “Open for me.”

No, no, she would stay closed. Stay safe, always safe from now on. She was too old for this and far too wise. She tried to jerk her face to the side.

He tightened his grip on her hair and held her in place.

She balled her fists and raised them to beat against his shoulders and chest. God, for all his leanness, his muscles were like iron.

Only the slightest shake of his head betrayed that he was even aware of her blows pelting him.

She opened her mouth to deny him.

He brought his mouth down on hers, cutting off her protest. He thrust into her mouth, the taste of his hot, wet tongue more fiery than the best Scotch whisky. She shook, not with fear but with anticipation for the next stroke of his tongue against hers.

It came and delicious shudders quaked through her. Another stroke and another. Ruthlessly, he gripped her head and angled it, thrusting deeper. Taking her breath. Sucking her very soul and taking everything.

She didn’t care.

Every inch of his long, lean body pressed hers. She could feel the whipcord strength of his powerful muscles. Could feel his trembling as though he were holding back his ardour. His erection throbbed against her stomach, huge and hard. Heated.

A feeling of letting go, as though a tremendous weight had suddenly lifted from her. As though she’d been waiting forever for this moment. Tenderness burst within her. Her limbs went weak. Her fists unfurled and she grasped his shoulders, learning his feel, breathing in his scent, glorying in his taste, his strength, his forcefulness.

Stephen.

Her Stephen.

If she could, she would simply melt into him. She clung desperately to his hard body, surrendering herself wholly.

He tore his mouth from hers.

She cried out in protest.

He swept her up into his arms then lowered her. Her backside touched the table and the rickety wooden frame groaned and creaked.

He swooped down on her then gripped her chin in his large hand, gently yet firmly holding her in place. His eyes bore into hers, predatory, determined. “Now, tell me that you don’t know me.”

She couldn’t speak, she could only pant, trying to catch her breath.

“Tell me that you don’t trust me.”

Her tongue was still paralysed.

“Not ready to concede?” He bent closer.

He kissed her, his lips moving on hers gently, such a contrast with his earlier ferocity. But his breathing rasped, coming quicker and quicker. His body was shaking above hers as though his restraint were hard-won.

Quivers of anticipation vibrated through her, followed by shafts of desire stabbing her, deep, deep in her belly. Making her core clench, making wetness flow over the swelling lips of her cleft.
Oh God.
Her legs parted. She arched her whole body, trying to press into him as much as she could.

His powerful thigh pressed between hers, pure steel muscle pressing against her soft, needy flesh.

Pleasure flamed through her sex, up into her stomach and down her limbs. A moan forced itself up her throat. She clamped her mouth and the sound became muffled.

Stephen lifted his head and gazed down at her. “Are you wet for me?”

She panted softly and closed her eyes. Tightly.

“Still not ready to concede?” He rolled partway off of her.

She let her eyes open a fraction, peeking at him through her lashes, watching the play of candlelight on the elegant lines of his cheekbones and long jaw as he bent and hooked his hand around the hem of her skirts.

“Oh, no.” The words escaped with her next breath, barely audible

“No?” His tone was impatient, incredulous. He put his hand under her skirts and slid it up her leg. He brushed his fingertips over her knee, and the tickling sensation sent sparks of fire upwards along her flesh.

Her heart was beating frantically. Her sex clenched and clenched. She was getting wetter and wetter. Yet, still she attempted to press her knees together, squeezing his hand between them.

She couldn’t help trying to protect herself. It had been too long since she had allowed a man near her.

Near enough to be this dangerous.

He met her gaze, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared almost black.

Desire throbbed in the little erect nub at the crest of her cleft.

She wanted him. Desperately.

No, no, I want to be safe. I
must
be safe. I won’t survive being hurt again.

She shook her head. “No, no…” Her voice rasped softly.

“We wanted each other, those days and nights at Eastwood Place. Do you remember how it was?”

Of course she remembered… And he was just as handsome and carnally appealing as he had been then. She wasn’t getting any younger. This might be her last chance to engage in a fling. Thrills shot through her just at the thought. God, it had been so long. So very long.