A Question for Harry (30 page)

Pulling his pistol once more, Aylesbury turned and leveled the barrel at the man behind them
. He was young, modestly dressed and appeared thoroughly confused. “Who are you?”

“Peters, my lord
. Please don’t shoot,” he said hurriedly, eyeing the pistol with open trepidation as he lifted his hands. “Glenrothes’ footman. Lady Fiona asked me to accompany her today. To protect her.”

“Fine lot of good you did,” Aylesbury grumbled, lowering the gun
. “Where were you when this happened?”

“I’m still not even sure what happened, my lord,” Peters said anxiously
. “One minute she was there and the next she wasn’t. To be fair, my lord, Lady Fiona didn’t tell me exactly what I was to protect her from.”

“Of course she didn’t
.” With a sigh, Aylesbury straightened Fiona’s skirts to cover her bared knees and smoothed back her hair. What was he to do with her? If she didn’t have more of a care for her own safety, she was going to be the death of him. “Peters, I want you to go fetch Lord Glenrothes and have him come to the club.”

“No,” Fiona groaned hoarsely, blinking her eyes before squeezing them shut tightly.

“They have to be told, Fiona,” he countered firmly.

“I know, I know,” she sighed
. “But not like this. Please.”

Aylesbury matched her sigh
. “Very well. Peters, run back to the clubhouse and have my driver bring my carriage around to street through there.” Aylesbury pointed through the trees to the road that bordered the course. “The Causeway, I believe. I will carry Lady Fiona through and meet you both there.”

Peters nodded and dashed away while Aylesbury turned his attention back to Fiona who was finally coming around more fully
. “I ought to lay my hand to your bare backside.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said groggily
.

“This is no time for jokes, Fiona.”

“
Amusing coming from you.” Fiona rubbed her temples and tried to push herself into a sitting position. Her head swam dizzily before a fierce pounding began and Fiona felt as if her brain were knocking against her skull. “Oh, my head.”

“Just relax against me,” Aylesbury said, lifting her into his arms as he stood
. Fiona rested her cheek against his broad chest with a sigh and he looked down at her, her warm, dark hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the treetops. Of all the times he imagined lifting her into his arms, never had he thought it would be under such circumstances.

Something had to be done.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed softly.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, brushing his lips over her hair.

“Please don’t forget my clubs.”

“It would serve you right if I did.”

Chapter
Thirty-Four

From the journal of the Marquis of Aylesbury – May 1895

There was a time when I believed that a perfect marriage such as the one my parents shared would be one of blissful peace, of contentment in the company of another. I never considered that contrariness might be attractive or that chaos might appeal.

That it is the conflicts in our lives that make us feel so very alive
.

“Here, drink this.”

Fiona took the glass Aylesbury offered her and took a sip, welcoming the burn of the whiskey as it went down her throat
. Tilting back the glass, she took a larger swallow purging the last of the sickly sweet flavor of the chloroform that still seemed to coat her mouth and throat.

“Better?”

With a nod, Fiona finished off the three-fingered pour. Her head was abuzz again but pleasantly this time. And she was safe, locked away from the world and all the nastiness in it at Aylesbury’s townhouse.

“Good, now I can say what’s on my mind
. This whole thing has gotten out of hand, Fiona,” he scolded. “Have you no sense whatsoever? I cannot believe that after what happened only yesterday, you would be out in the open like that.”

“I’m not entirely imprudent nor am I beyond taking precautions,” she insisted, s
ensitive to his display of concern. “The tournament was very public, and I was surrounded by people just as I promised. I was never alone and I had the coachman as well as two other footmen escort me there. Peters followed along with the play to protect me.”

“And what good was he lagging a hundred years behind you?” Aylesbury fired back
. “You should have brought someone else. Bugger it all, Fiona, you should have just stayed home.”

Fiona shook her head
. “How could I have anticipated this, Harry? I couldn’t have been more public! He took me right off the course with dozens witnesses about. And, for your information, I didn’t plan on going with just a footman or two. Connor promised to come along but he and Dorian came in at dawn this morning and were still sleeping off their intemperance.”

“There are eight other men in that household who might have escorted you.”

“Though they somehow manage to flock about at the most inconvenient times, surprisingly no one was available.” Fiona bit her lip and glanced up at him through her lashes, noting the worry darkening his brilliant eyes. “God, Harry! Do you think I haven’t thought about it? What this means? No one knew where I was going today but my own people. Or yesterday? That means there is someone out there watching me, watching my house and me every moment. Yesterday, I thought it might have been pure happenstance that they managed to follow me.”

“And after all of that, you still weren’t afraid enough for your life to be more cautious?” he almost yelled at her
. “You act as if this is all a game!”

“I know it isn’t a game
! But no, you’re right. I wasn’t afraid yesterday. Not even when they were chasing us,” Fiona told him, wringing her hands. It had only been afterward that she had felt any fear, and it had all been for Harry. Harry who risked so much for her. “Because yesterday, I had some measure of control over what happened. I had you and I had the ability to fight back. Today … Today he took that from me, Harry.”

Tears burned at Fiona’s eyes as the thought took root, stealing her breath
. “He took that. When the blackness hit me and I couldn’t move or fight … Well, you got your wish, Harry, because in that moment I was truly afraid. I’ve never given up control of my actions before, never lost control of my life. Never lost my choices.”

“My God, Fiona, you’re shaking like a leaf
. Come here, come here,” he murmured, sitting beside her and drawing her into his arms. He stroked her hair softly, calming her.

“You win, Harry,” Fiona whispered against his shirtfront, her fingers curling into his lapels
.

“Believe me, love, I don’t want to win in this
. I love your strength. I love your pluck,” he whispered. “You just haven’t got a lick of sense.”

Fiona sniffed back a watery chuckle
. “Now who’s making jokes?”

“Who says I’m joking?” he teased.

Running her palm over his crushed lapel, Fiona shook her head against his chest. She adored the strength of that chest beneath her cheek, the strong heartbeat within. The heat radiating from him, warming her. “I hated losing control like that.”

“Yes, I imagine you did,” Aylesbury whispered
. “But you can take it back. I have enough faith in you to know that you will regain it.”

Warming at the thought, Fiona lifted her head
. “You do?”

“I do
.” Smoothing her hair back gently, he pressed a light kiss to her lips.

Fiona melted against him, parting her lips under that tender kiss
. Her hands slid up his abdomen, over the hard ripple of muscles and over his chest before she drew back with a smile. Pushing away, she stood and went to the parlor door.

“What are you doing?”

Casting a sidelong glance and seductive grin over her shoulder, Fiona turned the lock with an audible snick. “Just what you said,” Fiona told him. “I’m regaining control of my life.”

“This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Fiona turned, pressing her back to the door and flattening her palms against the smooth wood. “It’s working for me. Do you mind?”

Aylesbury lifted a curious brow
. “Here?”

“Right here,” she said with a nod, reaching up to loosen her silk tie and slide it slowly off.

“Now?”

“Oh yes.”

Harry was sprawled back against the corner of the sofa, one arm across the back of the sofa, one down the arm. He looked utterly relaxed but Fiona could see the alertness in his eyes as he watched her walk toward him. While she felt like a huntress stalking him, he looked nothing like timid prey. Instead he looked ready to devour her.

Unbuttoning her jacket as she went slowly onward, Fiona
stripped it off her shoulders and threw it to the side before working the buttons of her white cotton blouse. As it opened button by button, Harry’s eyes dipped downward, caressing the swell of flesh above her camisole. Her breasts tingled as if he had touched her already. Leaving her blouse hanging open, Fiona unfastened her skirt and let it fall. She wore only one petticoat beneath it, white brushed cotton with a single flounce and only one row of red piping at the hem. While it was a far cry from the more elaborate undergarments she’d had on the previous night, Harry didn’t seem to mind. His hand fisted on the arm of the sofa as it slid to the floor. Fiona stepped out of it and shrugged off her blouse, tossing it at a chair.

She watched as Harry’s hot gaze swept downward over her
filmy white batiste combination camisole and drawers hemmed with a white ruffle, lace and satin ribbon. She wore no corset, but then Fiona never did when she was playing golf. Her stockings were plain white as well. “Is this the virginal look you were expecting last night?’ she whispered huskily as she reached up to pull the pins from her hair. Her upraised arms lifted her breasts, drawing his gaze.

Harry drew in a shuddering breath as her coral nipples
pressed visibly against the sheer camisole. “You don’t look virginal at all,” he rasped as her thick hair fell over her shoulder. “But rather sinful. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Hell, no.” Harry pushed off the sofa but Fiona held up a hand to stop him. He eased back down with a raised brow.

“No, stay right there
. My control, remember?”

“Testing mine?”

Fiona smiled, lifting her brows provocatively. “If need be.”

She pulled at the bowed ribbon between her breasts, opening her camisole to the waist
. It slid off her shoulder and hung, caught on her hardened nipple. With a groan, Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the sofa but they opened again quickly enough when Fiona tugged at another ribbon at her waist. With a shrug of her shoulder, the combination slid down, catching at her hips before dropping to the floor. Stepping out of it, Fiona kicked it to the side and stood before her lover in near nudity as his smoldering eyes scored her from head to toe.

Her blood
surged like a firestorm through Fiona’s veins. She felt beautiful, powerful, and very much in control once more, even though she knew that that control had been granted, not won. Knowing that Harry held himself back, that he allowed her that victory and why he did it, touched her deeply.

Knowing that he could lose that control and ravish her with all the fierce hunger that he had taken her with the night before was intoxicating
. Some small part wanted him to do it, to make her submit to his power.

Another part made her want to see how far she could push him before he did.

Fiona ran her hands down her hips, watching his eyes flame as they followed along. Upward they turned, her palms skimming the front of her thighs, her flat belly that gave away nothing of the low throbbing pleasure already building within. Up her ribcage, Harry’s breath caught and held as she cupped her breasts, her nipples hardened under his lustful gaze. Fiona grazed her fingers over the sensitive tips, imaging Harry’s hands on hers, his body covering hers. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips and he groaned aloud.

Her hands drifted back over her belly and lower still
. “Fiona, don’t,” he ground out. “God, but you will be my undoing.”

“I hope so
.” Fiona brushed the tangle of curls between her thighs and heard an animalistic growl before Harry was there, crushing her in his embrace, lifting her, and driving her back until she slammed none too gently against the wall. His lips captured hers in a kiss of pure carnal hunger. His tongue drove past her lips, plunging and retreating as his hand covered her, parting the damp curls. Her fingers. His. Together, he forced her to touch with him, to stroke against her throbbing nub before he pushed her hand aside and curled his fingers into her pulsing wetness.

“Ah, God,” Harry groaned, thrusting deeper.

Tearing her lips from his, Fiona gasped a thready cry against his parted lips. Harry was panting hard as well, his chest rocking against hers with the hard rhythm of his heart. His lips nipped at hers, his tongue tracing her lips and Fiona moaned, kissing him again. Clutching his shoulders, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, urging him forward with a press of her heels until Harry ground his hips against hers.

“I want you,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Me too.”

With a groan, Harry shrugged off his jacket and Fiona helped him with eager hands, pushing it off before stripping him of his tie
. Harry quickly worked the buttons of his shirt and Fiona gasped with delight as his hard, hot chest met hers. Frantic now, she unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them off his hips but when the fiery length of him was bared, she lost all concern with total nudity. “Now Harry,” she begged. “Now.”

Harry cupped her bottom in one hand, lifting her against him
. Fiona felt him nudge at her entrance then he thrust powerfully upward, slamming her against the wall with the force of his weight. Her cry of rapture was met by his low, triumphant moan. Lifting her legs high around his waist, Fiona welcomed his possession, relishing the chafing of his chest over her breasts as he moved within her, his hot lips open over hers as their labored breath mingled.