Chapter 31
“Wherein many things are taken.”
Well he had made his bed, he thought, looking down at the lovely creature beneath him with awe; and what an enchanting place it was.
How it could ever have entered his head that he had the will or the resolve to walk away from Henri was something he couldn’t quite comprehend.
He simply wasn’t that honourable, and he thanked God for that fact.
For if he had left her, he knew the idea of her about in the world without him, with his brother in her bed instead of him, would have driven him to madness or an early grave.
But as it was, she was here, and so was he, and the delight to be derived from that fact already far exceeded all his expectations.
She was at turns eager and shy, wanton and curious and so earnestly committed to giving and receiving his pleasure that he was quite undone. He loved her and could think of nothing beyond the need to make her his own, in all ways.
Lawrence could even bear the idea of Alex’s self-righteous expression when he discovered their victory, and the ragging he was bound to endure from his elder sibling for years to come with equanimity.
He didn’t care for anything but teaching his soon to be wife everything she could possibly need to know in answer to the question in her eyes.
She moved beneath him, and he slid between the slick heat of her thighs, only too eager to show her what came next.
The way she had shattered under his touch moments earlier, the way she had said his name, the sound of her pleasure, all of it still lingered in his mind, and he found himself needing to hear it again and again.
He moved, finding the entry to the fierce heat of her and readying her with gentle fingers, caressing and opening as he had before.
She sighed and then gasped, her breathing uneven and her heart clearly racing.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, kissing her as sweetly as she deserved to be kissed.
She opened her eyes, dark and hazy with desire and filling him with such need it took everything he had not to just give in and sink into her.
“Swear you’ll never leave me,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders, her legs wound about his hips.
“If I had any honour, I would leave,” he replied, on a groan as she tilted her hips towards him, rubbing against him until it stretched his sanity to breaking. “But I cannot. I couldn’t leave you tonight and now ... I never will, I swear it.”
And with that he gave in, sheathing himself inside her and only pausing when she cried out, clinging to him as he took everything she offered.
He hushed her with gentle words, murmuring promises that it was only for a moment, kissing her until her tension fell away.
She looked up at him then and smiled, hand reaching out to touch his cheek, those soft brown eyes so trusting in him he felt overwhelmed by it.
“I love you,” he said.
For the briefest of seconds old instincts kicked in and he wondered what the hell he was about, giving her such power over his heart. But then he saw the answer to any doubt in her eyes, and knew that, for once, he had said and done the right thing.
“I love you,” he repeated, with more surety this time as he showed her how to move with him and how to seek and find their pleasure together.
Lust and a primitive desire to lay claim battled against the need to please her, to school her gently.
His own needs raged, threatening to overwhelm him but something within him, something that cared for more than his own desire stayed his hunger and he found the will to hold back.
He found the strength to savour rather than devour, and his prize was the spell she cast as she clung to him.
Her slim fingers grasped at his flesh, her head flung back, dark hair all undone and cascading over the pillows as her climax took her and drew him with her, soaring and tumbling into the heavens where nothing but the most exquisite pleasure could exist.
***
The early fingers of daylight teased their way around the bedroom curtains and Lawrence sighed, a sigh of deep, boneless contentment.
He turned his head a little and smiled at the sight of the woman beside him.
Asleep he could look his fill, without those all too seeing eyes delving into his soul.
She saw far too much of him, he thought, and then chuckled to himself.
Whatever there was to be seen she had been given a thorough viewing of last night.
He had opened his heart and his soul to this woman, and all the regrets and anxieties he had expected to be plagued with on waking, simply weren’t there.
He could not find it in himself to regret it. None of it. Not for a moment.
As if aware of his train of thought, Henri murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer.
Well this is a first, he thought, quite unable to keep the smile from his lips.
Usually if he found himself beside a female form in the early hours, he was up and out of the bed with as much haste as he could manage.
But today, he found no such desire. Today the rest of the world could go to hell.
At some point he needed to make arrangements for their betrothal but ... well another hour or so really wouldn’t make the slightest difference. The staff may be scandalised, but all would be forgotten once she was safely wed.
With such pleasant thoughts murmuring through his increasingly drowsy brain, it was perhaps only years of life as an outlaw that drew him forcefully back to consciousness.
He stilled, ears straining, every muscle taut.
Nothing but the soft huff of Henri’s breath against his shoulder, the chatter of birds beyond the window and the occasional sound of servants moving about their daily chores could be heard.
And yet ...
With the practised ease of one used to creeping in shadows he slid from the bed and pulled on breeches and boots.
He reached for the pistol he always kept close, even when he slept, and walked to the window.
With a fingertip he pulled the curtain back and watched the garden through a crack in the shutters.
All was still. A crisp white frost covered the grass, the trees and buildings, everything coated in a sparkling rime of white ice. But nothing moved. He held his place, anxiety gnawing at his guts. Something was wrong.
Lawrence had only ever once not trusted his instincts that something was not as it should be, and he’d paid the price with three bullets.
It was a mistake he would never make again.
Better to live long and be considered a paranoid fool than die by ignoring that little prickle of alarm that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
And there it was. Behind the wall that separated the garden from the orchard beyond, a cloud of breath on the freezing morning air.
“Damnation!” With as much speed as he could manage, he ran to the bed, waking Henri with regret by covering her mouth with his hand. “Hush, love,” he murmured. “I think there are men outside for me, whether they are militia or pirates I know not, but they are not friendly.”
He withdrew his hand as her eyes widened with alarm and understanding.
“What shall we do?”
“Get dressed and find Annie and stay away from the windows. Gather all the women and children and take them to the hidden tower room. You remember how it opens?”
He sighed with relief as she nodded and smiled at her, proud of her calm manner in the face of such an event.
“I’m going to rouse Alex and find what men we have about the place. Keep everyone calm if you can, Henri. The longer they think we are unaware the more chance we have.”
He didn’t add that their chances were slim to none.
For no matter if it were militia or pirates, they would have come in numbers.
To his knowledge there was him, Alex and possibly three other men in the house.
Their only hope was that they could keep them at bay long enough for someone to sound the alarm and help to arrive.
He kissed her, pulling her to him and holding her close, filling the moment with everything he felt for her.
He let her go but she reached up, grasping his arm.
“I love you, Lawrence,” she said, fear glittering in her eyes. “Please be careful.”
He nodded and turned away, racing to find his brother.
Rage at the men outside filled his heart.
Just once in his life he’d had a chance for something real and good.
A life where he could be the kind of man he now realised he wanted to be.
A husband and father, instead of some desperately romantic and roguish figure that in reality hid the truth, that his life was hollow and lonely and doomed to meet a violent and ignominious end.
It had all been within his grasp, and he was damned if he would let anyone take it from him.
Guilt fell about his shoulders in the wake of his anger, a heavy, cold weight that settled around him, smothering his heart.
He had done this by trying to have something that was never his due.
Something he’d lost the right to claim. He had brought this trouble to them, just as he’d known he would.
He should have forced Alex’s hand, made his brother hand him over to the authorities.
But there was no time for regret or recrimination now.
Now all he could do was try to protect everything he loved.