Page 17 of The Lady in Pearls
“I know he doesn’t seem to care about your trousseau, but I was thinking you might fit into my wedding gown. It’s a bit old in style, but I believe I was about your size when I wore it. We can have the modiste make the necessary alterations, of course.”
Her heart swelled and she had to resist the urge to hug Lachlan’s mother. “Thank you, I would be honored.”
“I think, my dear, it is time I retire for the evening. I’m not so young as I once was.” She smiled again. “You know the way back to your room?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
She and Moira rose from the table and parted ways. For a long moment, Daphne stood in the dim corridor, thinking of Lachlan and his brother. When she began walking again, she sought out the main stairs, but paused at the sight of a portrait she’d missed earlier that day. The morning sunlight had favored the stairs, leaving the walls in shadow and she hadn’t looked closely. Yet now, moonlight basked the portraits on the wall with a milky light. The face staring back at her was unmistakable.
It had to be William. The clothing was modern, and his features were so much like Lachlan’s. Yet she saw an eternal melancholy in his eyes, just as Moira had described.
“He was a good man, my brother.” Lachlan’s slightly slurred voice came from the shadows by the entryway straight ahead of her. Daphne bit her lip to keep from gasping and her stomach churned with a deep uneasiness. Lachlan had an obvious talent for sneaking up on her when she least expected him.
“Your mother told me a little about him,” Daphne admitted.
Lachlan emerged from the shadows, his tall body imposing in the darkness. She had the sudden image of him overpowering her, catching hold of her body and kissing her, uncaring of whether she wished him to or not. His waistcoat was gone and he held a bottle of Scotch in one hand. His cravat was missing and his hair was tousled, as though he had run his hand through it repeatedly.
“And did she tell you how he died?” His voice was soft, but Daphne sensed danger in the question. He turned away from her and she thought for a moment he’d forgotten her, lost in memories.
“Er…no, she didn’t.”
He spun to face her and stepped closer, the contents of his bottle swishing in the silence of the house.
“He took his own life.” Lachlan stood only a few feet away now. She inhaled the heavy perfume of Scotch as it rolled off him. He’d been drinking too much. She shouldn’t stay alone with him, not when he was in such a condition.
“My lord, perhaps I should fetch someone to—”
He caught her arm, firmly but gently, and kept her close to him, caged by his body.
“No need to get anyone. I’ve been deeper in my cups than this.” He chuckled. “Do I frighten you?”
She gazed into his eyes, searching for any aggression or brutality. She saw only sorrow and curiosity.
“Frighten me? No,” she finally replied.
“Good.” He set the bottle down on the foot of the stairs and placed one hand on the banister, trapping her against it. She leaned back, the wood railing pressing into her spine until she could not retreat any farther. He reached for her hip, his fingers curling into the loose fabric of her gown, as he secured a firm hold.
“And now?”
Daphne’s blood pounded in her head and she felt suddenly dizzy. “Only a little.”
She raised her chin as he tilted his head slightly. His lips, so often curved in a frown, twitched as though tempted to smile.
“I’d never hurt you, lass.” He lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to resist, to push him away, but she didn’t want to. Their mouths met in a slow kiss that burned like a warm fire. She tasted the Scotch on his lips and was lost in the headiness it created within her. She had forgotten what it felt like to be warm, to feel a fire obliterate the cold inside of her.
She curled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more of his touch, and his heat. When he kissed her, she felt like she was falling, breathless and free, into a world where the past no longer mattered. Only this moment existed, the brush of soft lips and sweet sighs...
“What are you doing to me?” he demanded in a panting whisper between kisses.
I’m loving you.The thought rose unbidden to answer him and it startled her. She barely knew Lachlan, but it was true, shewantedto love him, was even at this moment falling in love with him.
He reached up and cupped her face, their eyes meeting briefly before he deepened the kiss once more, and plundered her mouth in the most sinful way. Daphne moaned as ripples of fire stirred throughout her body. She couldn’t resist threading her fingers through his dark hair, tugging on the silken strands. He growled against her lips and used one hand to drag her skirts up to her waist.
He gripped the back of her left thigh and lifted her leg up to crawl around his hip. Daphne didn’t fully understand what he wanted her to do, but her primal instincts took over and she rocked against him. To her delight, she found the hard press of his muscled thigh against the apex of hers, intense and overpowering. Sensations shot through her from the simple but intense friction. Lachlan leaned against the banister, his thigh rubbing harder against her sensitive mound through the thin layers of her underclothes.
“Ride me,” he murmured, showing her the natural rhythm of their bodies moving together.
Once she matched it, it was too much to bear. His tongue played with hers and her breasts ached against her stays as he assaulted her every sense. His taste, the hint of Scotch, the smell of leather and man mixed with his rough caress and the sting of his hand fisting in her hair as he began to kiss her ruthlessly. He was conquering her with every weapon at his disposal and she was more than ready to surrender. If he had wanted to take her there on the stairs, she would have let him.
