Chapter Eight #3
“Hell if I know. And hell if I’ll abandon it before it’s begun.
” He kissed her hard, holding her tightly against his chest and rolling until she laid atop him.
With her there, spread out with nothing but a thin shift between him, he could survive this place, could do what he must to ensure her safety.
He’d not known the house would haunt him so, had not known she could offer such relief.
Yet she did. Her every kiss a distraction. Her every touch a heaven. The flick of her tongue against his, a damn delight.
“We should not,” she said, each word sounding difficult to say.
“You should have considered that before seeking me out wearing only a shift.” The most difficult thing he’d ever done, keeping his hands on the outside of that shift when creamy skin beckoned from beneath.
Her pebbled nipples dug into his chest, and he ached to touch.
“If a woman is bent on seduction, she should be able to follow through.”
“I didn’t think you would follow through.”
“A gross miscalculation, Caro.” He licked a line up her neck.
“This… It is… it is not…”
He nibbled her earlobe, earning a throaty little moan from her.
“N-not in the plan , Felix.” His name said with a sigh.
“To hell with plans, Caroline. To hell with anything, frankly, that keeps my lips from your skin.”
“ Ooohh .” Another moan. Of capitulation? He didn’t want her damned capitulation. He wanted her unfettered desire, her passionate embrace. Those were the only champions strong enough to conquer his demons.
He kissed her hard, parting her lips with his tongue and her legs with his knee. She rolled against, giving him her desire, everything he wanted.
Not quite.
Hell. He couldn’t take that now. Not in some frenzied storm of desperation and lust. Not without talking about how this changed things. It would change things. Because he could not give this up.
He broke the kiss, gritted his teeth, and rolled her to the side, keeping her close, tucking her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “We should… calm ourselves.”
She glanced at him, those expressive brows demanding more.
“Is it in your plan, Caro? This thing between us?”
“No.” She sighed. But she did not retreat from him, stayed right there with her palm over his heart as if she’d always possessed that place.
Perhaps he’d been holding it empty for her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “In the folly.”
He stacked his hands behind his head and stared up the cobwebs above.
His father had built the folly for his mother on her last birthday.
Tall, circular, marble columns lifting a dome.
His mother had planned to fill this inner chamber with books, a couch, make it a little space just for her. It had barely been finished when…
Swallowing the well of emotion, he said, “I sleep better here. Fewer nightmares.”
“Like the one you were having earlier?”
He nodded. Humiliating. Nothing frightened him. Except this house. The memories. More bloody loss. All of it he’d been able to avoid over the last two decades or more. All of it weighing in on him now, opening up old wounds he’d forgotten he had.
Her name rang out across the air. But not in his voice.
“Someone’s calling,” she said absently, raising her head and frowning at the door.
“No. You’re mistaken.” He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her tightly, angling his hand toward her breasts, plump and perfect.
Should never, ever be bound. How long ago was that now?
Didn’t matter. They still deserved restitution, a little coddling.
He’d start with a stroke of his thumb around the lower curve.
Her body rippled. In this woman… freedom. In this woman… sweet oblivion.
Her name shattered the air once more, and Caro’s palm flattened against his chest, against his heart as she pushed upright. He held her hand there, keeping it.
Until she pushed him away. “It’s Polly. I must see what she needs.
” He let her go when she stood, and he sighed when she straightened her shift, covering the most interesting bits.
Though, frankly, every inch of her was fascinating, and as she moved toward the door, the shift caressed her body in ways that stroked his imagination.
The handle flicked beneath her hand, then she spun and slipped through the crack.
Gone. As silently as she’d come. Like a ghost.
“Damn me.” He rubbed a shaky hand down his face.
For the past few days, he’d worn himself out riding to the village and back, trying to put the nightmare of a house to rights so he could put it behind him.
Then, after the house was quiet each night, he’d retreated to this folly, the only place he could fall asleep.
But his little wife made him forget everything but skin and lips and lovely breasts pressed against his chest, surprisingly lithe legs tangled with his own.
He had to remain at Hawthorne until the letter he’d sent to London was answered. But how long would that be? The Black Widow certainly was taking her time.
“Damn me,” he said again, but this time because he remembered what he’d planned to do today.
He struggled into his shirt and waistcoat, cravat, and jacket, then went inside and upstairs to the room she’d allocated for his use.
He made use of the wash basin and checked his appearance in a cracked mirror in the hallway.
He seemed grim in the glass, tired and hungry.
Drained. This house was killing him as it had killed his family.
Hire servants, hire muscle, see her safe, then return to London. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could leave this cursed place.
He’d go mad if he didn’t do it quickly enough; every night he relived his nightmare.
At least, that had been the plan. Until Caro put a small but strong hand on his shoulder. Until the fresh scent of her curled round him like a breeze. He wanted this growing attraction as much as he wanted this house.
Not at all.
But if kissing her silenced the ghosts… she was his wife… if he must stay for the moment, he might as well take solace in whatever distractions from memory could be found in this cursed place. And, maybe, his wife’s lusty nature was the way to lure her back to London.
He descended the stairs with a bounce in his step. And found the parlor crowded, at least a dozen women waiting for him, including his scowling wife.