Chapter Eighteen
A crash of thunder shook the carriage. Adeline snapped shut her book and held it with white knuckles. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Another clap of thunder had her chest tightening like it was in a vice, making it hard to breathe. She would not make a cake of herself again in front of Kingsbury. She was a rational woman. There was nothing to be frightened of. She repeated these two mantras over and over as the rain lashed at the carriage.
Malcolm straightened and peered out the window. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“Do you think Mr. Bosely is all right up there in the box?” Adeline asked. What if lightning hit the coachman or the horses?
“Oh, he’ll be fine. No seaman worth his salt hasn’t worked on deck during a squall.” Malcolm turned from the window. “Hey, you are awfully pale.”
Adeline tried to muster a smile to prove she was fine, but a flash of lightning flooded the dim interior of the carriage, and she flinched. She let out an embarrassing squeak at the roll of thunder that followed.
Malcolm shifted to sit next to her. He gently pried away the book that she gripped and then set it aside. Then he clasped her hands in his big ones. “Are you afraid of storms?”
“Logically, I know not to be afraid. I understand that I am safe inside. But ever since I was caught in a summer storm as a child, I cannot shake off the fear.” She shut her eyes in embarrassment. “The summer I was eight years old, I learned to climb trees. I spent many an hour climbing from tree to tree in our apple orchard like a spider monkey.” She glanced up at him. “I read about them with my governess in her large encyclopedia. Anyway, I was quite taken with the idea of living in the trees. One day, I had worn myself out, and I fell asleep in the grass under one of the trees. The storm came through quickly. The rain woke me up.
“I tried to get my bearings as the wind picked up. I ran through the orchard toward the house feeling like I was being chased by the thunder. I was so frightened. Then lightning struck a tree down the row. I froze in fear. That’s how they found me. On my knees, with my hands over my head, frozen in fear.”
“What a truly horrible experience.” He squeezed her hands. “Who found you?”
“The gardeners. No one in the house had noticed I was missing.”
Lightning flashed again, streaking across the sky. Adeline flinched.
“Come here, darling.” Malcolm gathered her against him. Adeline buried her face into the crook of his arm as thunder rumbled. “I’ve survived many a storm at sea. We’ll be fine.” He rubbed circles in between her shoulders.
“This doesn’t change anything. I am still mad at you,” she mumbled against his chest.
“Now, why would you be mad at me?”
“You kidnapped me from my home.”
“To take you safely away from Lord Bellamy, who, by the way, is involved in the theft of those artifacts.”
“He is? Why does that not surprise me?” She lifted her head to glare at Malcolm. “You feigned interest in me to gain information about my family. You are going to get them in trouble. You told my maid that we were eloping. You—”
“Adeline, there is nothing fake about my interest in you.”
His hand cupped her cheek, and then his lips captured hers. Unlike before, this kiss was not a soft brushing of lips. The heated press of his lips was sensuous and insistent. His thumb stroked her cheek as his tongue teased along her bottom lip. Adeline enjoyed the slide of his mouth, the mingling of breath. She parted her lips to let him delve in and the taste of him was divine. Sinking against him, she tangled her tongue with his. Each touch of his lips, each nibble and taste burned through her like a fine wine, making her feel tipsy and brazen.
She gripped the lapels of his jacket and pushed him back against the seat. A low groan rumbled from his chest. He hauled her onto his lap, his arms banding around her waist. Yes, perfect. She changed the angle of their kiss, relishing having him trapped underneath her.
Malcolm pulled back to kiss across her jaw. Burying his nose in her neck, he growled. “Why do you smell so good? It drives me mad with lust.” His tongue darted out to lick a spot right behind her ear before sucking her earlobe into his mouth.
She closed her eyes and lost herself in the delicious pleasure of his lips kissing down her neck. The heat of his mouth, his hard chest pressed against hers, and his hand gripping the back of her neck all mixed together to sear her senses. Her pulse jumped like a jackrabbit under his lips. Thunder boomed but barely registered.
Malcolm lifted his head. “Sounds like the storm is getting worse.”
Adeline struggled to gather her wits. What were they doing? She was kissing a man in a carriage. This was so far removed from her normality that she hardly recognized herself. But she did not care. She enjoyed kissing Malcolm, and she wanted more of him. Was this how her mother had felt? This craving to be desired?
Adeline studied Malcolm’s profile as he looked out the window. “Are you kissing me to distract me from the storm?”
“Good Lord, woman, no.” He cupped her face with both hands. “I am kissing you because you are temptation itself with your wide whiskey eyes and rosy lips.” He brushed his lips across hers.
She furrowed her brow. Tempting? Her? She needed to think. To analyze. This avalanche of desire was burying her ability to do so. Every part of her ached to be touched by him, to feel his hands, his lips, skate across her skin. How could she think when all that her traitorous body wanted to do was feel?
“And you smell so good.” He buried his nose against her neck. “Why do you smell so good?”
Still trying to absorb his compliments, she replied distractedly, “I formulated my own lotion with all the scents I like the most. Never could find a perfume I cared for. Orange blossom, vanilla bean, sweet mint.”
“Mmm, delicious.” His tongue danced over her pulse. “You are delicious.” Another tantalizing press of his lips, and she sank back into his embrace. Who needed to think when there was kissing?
A loud knock came at the window, startling them apart. Malcolm lifted her off his lap and then scooted over to crack open the carriage door. “Bosely?” he called out.
“Storm’s getting worse. Dark clouds as far as the eye can see.” Bosely’s voice sounded far away as the wind whipped through the partially open door. “Going to stop at the next village…take shelter…horses.”
“All right,” Malcolm shouted back. Then he pulled the door shut. Turning back to her, he swiped rain from his face. “Looks like we will have to stop. The horses are getting spooked.”
Adeline nodded. She raised her hands to her cheeks, where they felt hot to the touch.
Malcolm settled next to her and sent her a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the storm will blow through in the next hour.” He pulled her close, tucking her under his arm. “Everything will be fine.”