Page 45 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“Let me touch you,” said Kit. “Let me help you find your release. It will help you sleep after what you’ve endured tonight.”
“My release?” she asked, unsure if she understood. “I don’t wish for this feeling to go away.” She liked feeling excited, like she was close to something wonderful, even if it was a little bit frightening.
He nibbled on her earlobe, and heat pooled low in her belly, making her squirm on his lap. “Far from it. I wish to make it more intense.” He made a soft humming sound in her ear that vibrated through her body, making her feel more alive than she ever had been.
He shifted down the bed and rolled their bodies, trapping her beneath him. He grasped her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head in the blankets. Then he kissed her with ruthless abandon while still being careful not to crush her. Rather than being frightening, however, being caged beneath him feltsafe.
Excitement shimmered within her, and she had a sudden flash of memory. Her mother was holding her hand, and they were running toward a lake. Even as she ran on her tiny legs, she was fascinated by the light that rippled across the surface. It had been so bright it looked like diamond dust had been scattered over its surface. The sight had entranced her. When Kit kissed her like that, she felt like she was running toward that lake, ready to dive into the shimmering glory of a perfect day. She was so close she could almost feel the cool water on her feet.
She tipped her head back as he kissed his way down the column of her throat. One of his hands slid up beneath her shirt to caress her hips. Only after she was breathing hard with excitement at his intimate touch did he part her thighs.
“Open more for me, darling. Let me touch you. Let me please you.”
His words stunned her. This was a titled lord, a man who could take what he wanted, yet he was begging now to please her. The heady dizziness within her only grew as she parted her thighs farther. She swallowed a startled cry when he stroked a gentle, questing finger over the folds of her sex. His tongue thrust into her mouth, slow, languid, mimicking that single finger that now teased her before it slowly penetrated her. It didn’t hurt, but the feeling of foreign invasion was so strong and unexpected that she wriggled beneath him, trying to get comfortable. He began to thrust the finger in and out of her, while his mouth moved over hers more and more hungrily.
“I’ll always be gentle,” Kit murmured, then chuckled. “Unless you want me to be something else.”
That vow of gentleness only made her crave his wildness that much more. She struggled beneath him, wanting her hands to be free so she could touch him, but he kept them trapped.
“Please, Kit.More. Give me more.” She did not care how greedy or desperate she sounded.
He added a second finger alongside the first, stretching her entrance, but not to the point of pain. He moved his fingers faster and faster and his kiss roughened, almost becoming savage as he claimed her, capturing her soul within this moment.Forever.
There was no going back, not now, not as she chased that feeling of perfection in his arms. When the unexpected pleasure hit, she couldn’t even scream. She could only gulp for air as her body tightened and waves of physical ecstasy rippled out like a stone upon that shimmering lake within her mind.
Kit tore his mouth from hers, gasping as he held himself tight above her. Something wet coated her belly, and he feathered breathless kisses against her temple. They shared the air around them, their eyes locked on each other as something passed between them. An acceptance of something, but Suzannah couldn’t put her finger on what. Then, with a sigh of reluctance, Kit rolled off her.
She lay there as he got up from the bed and went to the washstand, returning to her with a wet cloth. She was too limp to struggle or pull away as he cleaned her body. She’d been embarrassingly wet, and yet he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. He put the cloth in the basin and returned to her, turning down the lamp that still glowed on the nightstand. He then curled her up in his arms and kissed her cheek.
“You’re mine,” he whispered in the dark. She burrowed closer, offering her silent agreement with his words.
Yet he wasn’t owning her, not like another man might. In those two little words, she heard the hope of a man who’d had nothing of his own for so long that he was overcome with joy at once more having someone to call his.
She would be his wife. Kit would be herhusband. She too would have someone to call her own.
As she listened to his breathing, she couldn’t help but wonder what her father would think had he still been alive. If he were, she knew he’d want to help Kit clear his name just as she did. She loved him, and she would do anything to help him. And perhaps someday he would feel safe enough to say that he loved her too.
She kissed his chest and smiled drowsily as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. The pulse beat deep into the earth as if to say,I’m alive,in defiance of those who’d tried to destroy him.
12
Palmer opened the door to his master’s bedchamber. It was a little after dawn, and he was used to the master coming downstairs early for breakfast. The townhouse was quiet, yet it was not anemptyquiet. For the first time in years, they had guests, albeit under somewhat dramatic circumstances, but they were still welcome to Palmer, who adored having company in the home.
However, Palmer was concerned for their current guests, and his concern was strong enough that he felt he ought to speak to Master Kit right away. The boy Henry was resting. Palmer had given him another drop of laudanum to settle him two hours ago, but Miss Townsend was nowhere to be found. The bedchamber Palmer had prepared for her was empty, the door ajar with her clothing still hung on the fire grate, dry and ready to be worn, but the lady herself was missing.
Palmer eased the door to Kit’s bedchamber open and peered around. The master usually slept on the floor, the poor lad. It broke the man’s heart to assume that Kit had lost his sense of creature comforts while serving out his sentence. But what Palmer saw now made his old, wrinkled face break into a smile.
Master Kit was asleep in his own bed for once, but he wasn’t alone. Tucked in Kit’s arms was Miss Townsend. Kit held on to her the way a small child might clutch his favorite toy to his chest for comfort. Palmer’s brow furrowed. He would have to have a discussion with Master Kit about his responsibilities to the young lady. Miss Townsend was not from an aristocratic family, but she was an innocent woman, not Kit’s mistress, and if Kit had compromised her, he should do right by the young lady.
But that discussion would have to come later. Palmer was not going to wake Master Kit, not when he looked so peaceful. Palmer quietly closed the door and let the pair sleep.
* * *
Kit wokeat the sound of a door softly closing. He lifted his head and blinked as he realized he was holding a woman. For once, the soft mattress did not bother him—at least, not as much as he’d expected it to. The woman was soft and warm and smelled faintly of rain and flowers. He buried his face in the coils of her hair on the pillow, breathing in her scent and enjoying this moment with her.
Suzannah. The little painter was in his bed, in his arms, and the thought made him smile. Until the rain scent in her hair brought back memories of last night and the terrible accident. It could have been her he’d carried home, her who had suffered a shattered leg and blinding pain. It was only by luck alone that the poor lad had been hurt and not Suzannah. The thought of either of them in pain filled him with a desperate fear and rage that went beyond words, but he couldn’t have borne it if Suzannah had been hurt. It might have killed him.
She slept deeply, unaware of him relishing holding her in his arms, which was just as well. He’d pushed her quite far last night with his insistence that they marry, and then he’d touched her in an intimate way, offering a taste of what he would give her once she was his. He had every intention of being a dedicated and loyal lover to his future wife.
