Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pricilla curled into Wyatt’s side as Ralph gingerly held her mother, attempting to absorb every bump of the carriage as they made their way across town.
Wyatt’s heat seeped into her side as she rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “Rest.”
She shook her head as she looked across the dim carriage at her mother. It wasn’t time for her to relax. Not yet.
First, she’d see her mother settled and comfortable.
She swallowed down a lump.
The doctor had assured her with rest and time the countess would make a full recovery. But the fear still beat within her chest. She pressed closer to Wyatt, the fear still thrumming through her chest.
His arm slipped about her shoulders, drawing her tighter into his side. “I’ve got a beautiful room for your mother, south facing. Large. The four-post bed will be the perfect place for her to recover.”
Her eyes did flutter closed then. “And Eugene? What if he tries to come after us?”
“Eugene is now my problem,” he whispered. “One I am more than capable of handling, so you needn’t worry about him again, Priscilla. I won’t allow him anywhere near you or your mother. That I promise.”
Those words took the last of her tension away. She’d been attempting to be strong, working to save her father’s assets and better her and her mother’s situation.
And she’d finally managed it.
Not that their change in fate hadn’t cost them dearly. She opened her eyes to look at her mother again. What might she have done differently to protect the most important person in the world to her?
He held her tightly until the carriage finally arrived and then Ralph carried her mother inside, settling her into her new room.
Priscilla sat with her until she fell asleep and then she rose, hungry and tired, and full of restless energy that she couldn’t explain.
There had been so much tension that had filled her life of late and, in an instant, it had vanished.
Gone.
She started down the hall, finding the main stair and making her way into the entry, where a footman stood waiting.
“Can I help you, my lady?”
“Where is Viscount Ware?”
“Carriage house, I believe,” the man answered with a short bow. “Should I show you the way?”
“Yes, please,” she answered, falling in step with him as they made their way down to the kitchen and out of the back of the house.
The moment the door to the carriage house opened, she heard a steady thumping sound and the muted male grunts that accompanied each thump.
The footman continued forward, stepping into one of the partitioned sections of the carriage house.
The noise abruptly stopped.
A moment later the footman reappeared, Ralph just behind him.
His cravat, jacket, and vest were off, his shirt untucked and his hair disheveled as he walked toward her with a wink. “Your mother is all settled?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said. “Ralph, your help has been so wonderful. I wish that I could properly express how much I appreciate all your help.”
He gave her a shoulder a pat. “Think nothing of it. I’m glad you’re joining our family.”
She smiled at him, her thoughts returning to her soon-to-be husband and the thoughts she most needed to articulate to Wyatt. She’d like a few assurances too if it wasn’t too much to ask.
She’d passed some point of no return and she had to know that he still meant to keep all the promises he’d made while they were courting.
As Ralph and the footman stepped back out, she moved forward, coming around the wall to find a reasonably sized area with equipment set up everywhere.
Bars hung from the ceiling as well as heavy bags, equipment stacked up on the sides.
Though Wyatt was nowhere in sight, a slight rustling came from one corner where a changing screen had been erected.
“You really do box.”
“I do.” His voice drifted to her from behind a screen. “A fact your cousin also discovered today.”
“Wyatt?” Some desperation laced her voice, even she could hear it. Now that her mother was comfortable, her thoughts had moved to what came next. She needed to know what he’d done to keep Eugene at bay and what he saw happening next.
He stepped out from behind the screen, his features set in concern, though she barely noticed.
Her gaze fixated instead on the hard muscles of his chest, glistening with sweat. He was shirtless, a cloth in his hand.
Her mouth went dry, her gaze taking in every ripple and ridge.
“Priscilla,” he asked, moving closer as he started to swipe at his body with the cloth. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, attempting to meet his eyes. A flush climbed up her cheeks. “Nothing. What happened with Eugene?”
He gave her a sly smile. “His nose will never be the same.”
She laughed then, her hand coming to her mouth. “Oh, that is satisfying.”
“I agree.” He stopped just in front of her, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “And as I said in the carriage, I’ll see to him from here on out.”
Her fingers itched to trail over the bare skin just in front of her. “Thank you.” She swallowed, attempting to concentrate. This was still business. “I just have one more question…”
“What is it?”
“You said that I could retain control—” His muscles flexed in his chest and the words died on her lips.
“I see the archbishop tomorrow. After that, I’ll visit a solicitor and have the details of our arrangement drawn up in writing for both of us to agree upon. Your father’s money will be yours. And in exchange…”
“You need an heir.”
He stepped closer then, practically touching her, one his arms snaking about her waist. “First, I need a wife.”
She placed her hands on his bare skin, shivering at the feel of his muscles under her fingertips. His skin was hot and a delicious mix of smooth with coarse hair over that. She’d like to trace every line on his abdomen, mapping his body with her touch.
He dropped his head, his mouth just an inch from hers. “I’ll protect you, Priscilla. All I need in return…” His voice drifted off.
“What?” she asked, looking into his gaze, the connection sending a jolt through her as their eyes met. This close, it might have been more intimate than kissing.
“I need you to keep me close.”
Keep him close? They’d be married. Of course, they’d be close.
She didn’t answer with words, however. Rising onto her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. How could she be any closer than this?
* * *
Wyatt’s arm tightened about her waist as he deepened the kiss.
She looked so lovely staring up at him. She felt even nicer pressed to his front.
And as she melted into him, her mouth yielding to his, her body curving to fit into the crook of his, he knew he’d never let her go.
He’d fight a thousand Eugenes.
Hell, he’d fight his own past to keep her at his side.
He pushed his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, her loose coif becoming even looser, allowing his fingers to twine into the silky brown tresses.
He breathed in her floral scent, wanting more of her. The sweet and musky sent of gardenias wrapped about him, only adding to the heady sensations making his thoughts swim and his pulse beat like thunder.
Truth be told, for the first time in his life, he wanted her heart and he wished to give her his too.
She slid her hands up to his shoulders, tracing down his arms and then to his waist, her fingers skimming along his abdomen, making everything inside him tighten as she danced her touch along the waistband of his breeches.
Her exploration of his skin was both delightful and wholly unfair. He ought to feel a bit of the curves he’d been dreaming of since he’d met her that first day in Hyde Park.
But that required a bit more privacy then they had in this space.
Lifting her by the waist, he never broke their kiss as he started to carry her toward his carriage, which currently sat in the back of the building.
He managed to hold her as he opened the door, climbed the single step and then snapped it shut behind them, the curtained interior both dark and intimate.
And when he swung them both onto a seat, her landing softly in his lap, her small giggle tingled along his spine. Her legs dangled over one side of his, her side tucking snuggly into his front. Their breath mingled as he stared into her eyes.
“Priscilla.” He knew they weren’t wed yet. But he had this powerful need to be closer to her. Touch her in ways that made sure she’d belong only to him.
Her palm flattened out on his biceps, her nails lightly scraping his skin as she kissed him again.
In answer, he guided her mouth open with his, swiping his tongue along hers until their groans and sighs of pleasure mingled together.
He trailed a hand from her hair, down over her collarbone, and over her chest to grasp one of her full breasts in his hand. She arched into his touch, her nipple puckering under his palm.
He’d never wanted a woman more, his manhood granite in his tight breeches. Not that he’d receive release today. That could wait.
But the need to touch Priscilla, to know her intimately, was a far more powerful urge than his own need and so he skimmed his hand down her belly and over her hip, reaching the hem of her skirts.
When he traversed her layers of skirt, finding her stockinged ankle, he pushed his hand under the layers of fabric, tracing the shapely curve of her calf, the dip in her knee, until he reached the silky skin of her thigh.
Higher he went, her breath coming in quick gasps as it mingled with his. She quivered in excitement, her legs parting for him to allow him even more access. Satisfaction and need coursed through him at the trust she gave him in this moment, trust he craved as much as air or water.
And when his fingers lightly brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs, she moaned into his mouth, a high-pitched feminine sound that nearly undid him.
He repeated the touch, her thighs opening further, the feel of her soft, silky folds stealing his breath.
Priscilla belonged in his arms like this.
On his third pass, he increased the pressure, her feminine flesh yielding for him in the most satisfying way.
And when he started a rhythm with the pad of his finger, her body arched into him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.
She should always be here. Pressed against him.
How did he make certain she never left?
Moving faster, her body tightened, her cries of pleasure filling his ears until finally, she crested the wave of her pleasure, breaking apart in his arms.
He held her tightly to his chest, until her breathing returned to normal and her body relaxed into his.
Kissing the top of her head, he cradled her close, knowing that he never wanted to let her go.