Danger Wears White (11 page)

“But I don’t want to live abroad.”

Of course. If he were a Jacobite he’d take her into exile, probably Rome, where the Jacobite court currently resided. “I don’t want to take you there. Be assured, I won’t leave you to your fate.”

“That sounds ominous.”

It did. He laughed and kissed her again, his heart lighter now he’d told her what he intended. He would make love to her now, and return to claim her as soon as he could. She was his, and the heat they engendered together in bed had no comparison. That would keep him warm for many nights to come.

She sighed, a gentle puff of air against his cheek when their lips parted. He led her to the bed and sat her down on it, taking the opportunity to do as he’d longed and unfastened the strings of her cap. He laid it aside on the chair, because she would need it and maids didn’t have the resources their mistresses did.

After that, she found it easy to take off her jacket, loosen her stays, and help her take off her skirts. Going down on one knee, he unfastened her garter and gently rolled down her stockings. Her shoes were soft slippers, easy to remove. He pressed a kiss to the upper slope of her foot. Such a pretty foot, the nails little shells nestling on the soft pink skin. Damn, he was getting poetic. Just as well he hadn’t articulated that aloud.

Except, when he glanced up at her face, she blushed. Oh God, he’d said it to her. Compared her toenails to shells, just like some blasted poet.

“That was sweet. Nobody has said anything like that to me before.”

“They should.” Stupid to say it but even worse to take it back. “You’re very lovely, Emmy.”

“Thank you.” At least she didn’t deny it this time. Who had told her she wasn’t beautiful? Because she undoubtedly was. Beauty could be a problem for a maid. Especially with men like him around.

Guilt washed over him, and he moved away to put her stockings and garters on the pile. The garters were pretty ones, embroidered in silk thread with forget-me-nots. Fine for a servant. Perhaps she’d stitched them herself. Imagining her sitting by a fire in winter, plying a fine needle gave him yearnings so foreign that he didn’t know how to define them. A sense of homecoming, something that had never concerned him before. He undressed, but only to his drawers. Old George had brought him a change of clothing, and while the garments were coarser than the ones he was used to, he was grateful for them. He laid his clothes on top of hers, just as carefully, as a humble soldier would.

Shaking off his strange mood, he turned and went back to her. “Only resting tonight,” he said, but her knowing smile made him groan. “Emmy, don’t do that.”

She raised her brows. All she had to do was lie there, the sheet modestly tucked under her arms, covering her breasts, and desire flashed through him.

Unfortunately, the erection tenting his drawers didn’t hide his state of arousal from her.

“I can’t help it.”

He drew back the covers and got in next to her, drawing her into his arms. “Sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

“In a while.”

That throaty tone would be the death of him. Rising up, she straddled him. He was helpless to prevent her sliding her shift over her head.

He stared at her and moaned. “You’re so beautiful. Lush. Your skin is poetry under my hands.” He couldn’t keep from touching her, cupping her breasts and lifting them to bring her nipples into prominence. They were already puckered at the tips, tempting him to taste.

“I’m not a saint,” she said.

Surging up, he looped one arm around her waist and brought her to him, sucking her left nipple into his mouth, and bathing it with his tongue. Soft, sweet skin that tasted of her greeted him. Greedily he released that one and turned to the other, claiming that one too.

Why couldn’t he marry her?

The notion appeared so quickly that he stilled, his mouth on her flesh.

No time to think about that now, except his mind whirred. He kissed his way down to her navel, and she leaned back, using her hands to support her. When he touched her cleft, she moaned. He reveled in her response. “You have to be ready for me,” he said, finding enough sense to add, “Are you recovered? Can you take me?”

“Yes!”

Her emphatic reply made him chuckle, his lips reverberating against her skin. He licked her, relishing her responsive shiver. “You are so sensitive.”

“To you.”

He felt like a king. Yes, he could marry her. He really could. London wouldn’t like it, but London could go hang. They need never go there, and from what she said she’d not miss it. Two days? Was that enough to make such an important decision?

Yes.

Once he’d made his decision, contentment settled deep inside him. After one last kiss to her stomach, he sat up and gazed into her eyes. “Take me, Emmy. I’m all yours. Whatever feels right to you.”

While she was grasping his cock to keep it steady, he watched her blink and stare at him, while she processed what he’d just told her. “You mean I can…” She glanced down at him, and that adorable flush stained her breasts and throat.

“I burn for you. Take me any way you want me. Just do it, sweetheart.”

Her smooth thighs whispered against his hairy ones when she lifted up, hovering over him, her heat kissing the tip of his cock. He nipped his lower lip, the wait unbearable.

She saw it and smiled, the light in her eyes wicked.

“You should do this more often. Like every night.” The light fled and he cursed himself. He wasn’t ready to broach his plans with her yet. He wanted to have this first. The possibility of her refusal lurked in the depths of his mind, although he didn’t know why, just felt it. He wouldn’t let her refuse.

She lifted farther and watched his face as she lowered herself onto him. He groaned. “Lord, you’re tight! Slowly, my sweet, move carefully. Take your time.”

His cockhead barely eased inside her before tension tightened the lines around her mouth. Placing a hand on her hip, he helped steady her. “You’re doing fine.” He crooned encouragement as slowly, so slowly, she eased her body down on to his.

This way he felt every fraction of an inch as she enveloped him in a torture so exquisite he never wanted it to stop. Her heat encompassed him. She didn’t stop until she was resting on his balls. When he moved his hand out of the way, he curved it around her to cup her bottom. Like the rest of her it was beautifully formed, a delight to touch and hold.

Taking care, he guided her up, her channel gripping him as if it didn’t want to let go. They had to pause for breath when he held her at the crest of his cock, her from effort, him because he would lose his control if he didn’t. After fighting hard, he regained a measure of control and then guided her back down again.

Emmy was a quick study. Leaning forward, she planted her hands either side of his rib cage and moved again. The expression of wondering enjoyment on her face sent delight spiraling through him, pleasure in her pleasure. That was new to him, and he blessed her for gifting it.

He moved her up again, and then down. With a gurgle of delight, she did it again.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Better than good.” She moved again, this time easier, their juices lubricating them. By the next stroke she moved freely. Tony braced his body against the straw mattress, pushing up as she came down on him. She gasped, and he grunted, the sound involuntary.

“Don’t stop.”

“Why would I do that?” she said, breathless.

Watching her discover the extent of her control brought more pleasure, almost as good as coming. Almost. He gained a new ambition to come inside her, but not tonight. He wouldn’t force pregnancy on her. Or himself for that matter. While he’d decided on his course, he wasn’t sure yet about children. Of course if they came, the decision would be made, but he wouldn’t force the issue.

When she leaned forward, her breasts dangled enticingly close to his face, something he took advantage of when she’d found her rhythm.

Catching one in his mouth, he licked and kissed it, the feel of her soft skin against his mouth adding to his pleasure. Her soft moan drove him to do more. Ignoring the twinge of pain from his arm, he leaned in and took more, nuzzling and kissing. The bristle on his chin abraded them, but she pushed the abundant swells against him, silently begging for more as she drove him up to madness and beyond.

Although he wanted to take care of her, to give her all and let her take from him, he could bear it no longer. Gripping her hips with new purpose, he took control, rammed her body on to his, and ground his hips up in a desperate attempt to take it all. His body took control, instinct driving him, and to the symphony of her moans and soft cries, he pushed them harder, until they found ecstasy together.

Just in time he pulled her off him, slapping her on his thighs as he came and came in hard, fast spurts. The sight of his seed on her body gave him a deep sense of satisfaction, warming him and quickening his desire to make her entirely his.

This time she cleaned them, wiping his cock, with a care that made him smile, and then herself. He’d have done it but she stood by the basin, teasing him as she swiped the wet cloth between her legs, sparing him glimpses of her pink inner crease and that pretty little clitoris.

“You take my breath,” he told her, because it was true.

But she only laughed and turned to the chair where he’d left their clothes. Divining her intent, he threw back the bedcovers. “Come here. I want to hold you for a while.”

Should he ask her now? But no, not yet. When she turned into him, he curved his arm around her, and she tucked herself against his side. He liked this. He’d never been good at intimacies, but with Emmy it was easy. She asked for nothing more than he could give, and what he had he gave freely, enjoying her to the fullest. His mind at peace, he kissed and petted her. “Sleep for a while. I want to take care of you for a change. I’ll wake you before the servants get up, I promise.”

With a sweet sigh she nestled in, and in a few moments she was asleep.

* * * *

“What was that?”

Emmy’s sleepy murmur made Tony smile. He snuggled her closer. “Just somebody outside. Don’t worry. You have hours yet.”

She sat bolt upright in bed, and her nakedness made him groan.

“There shouldn’t be anyone moving about, not at this time of night.”

“Hush, sweetheart. It could be one of the Georges. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

Along with a few others of his military colleagues, Tony could wake himself when he wanted. He’d set his mental alarm for four, to give her time to dress and go back to her room, but not enough to make love again, because he didn’t trust himself. She was new to this, and he should give her time to become accustomed to it. In time, they’d keep going all night, but not now.

She moaned when he pulled her back down, but she must be exhausted. Nights of lovemaking and before that, caring for him, hadn’t given her much time to sleep. In seconds she’d fallen back to sleep, and after making a few pleasurable plans, he followed her, vowing to wake soon. He would at least have the pleasure of holding her before he had to send her on his way, and then make his own way out of the building. Young George would come at half past four with a horse and outer clothing for him, so he could get to the nearest inn. He could become himself again and return to claim Emmy for his own. He didn’t plan to let the grass grow under his feet. Why a local lad hadn’t claimed her before, he didn’t know.

His eyes flicked open when a murmur of voices sounded close. Far too close for his liking. What the hell was going on? Tramping feet turned the room outside into a storm of cracks as the timbers adjusted to a multiplicity of feet.

The panel moved aside with a scrape. A flare of light temporarily blinded Tony, and he lifted his hand to shield his eyes in automatic reaction. Yells jolted him into action.

Rolling out of bed, he flung the sheet up to hide Emmy, praying she’d stay quiet and still. He’d had no time to warn her. What the hell was this?

Shouts of “There he is!” and “Traitor!” told him.

Hell and damnation, someone had betrayed them.

“What is it?”

Tony’s heart sank. Behind him Emmy had moved, and her voice had revealed her presence. The men crowding into the room, those who could fit, had a view of her glorious breasts before he dragged up the sheet to cover her, as much for his own sake as hers. He didn’t want anyone seeing what he already regarded as his.

“Oh, biding his time with a maid!” Raucous jests followed, some of them fully as crude as any a soldier would make. Three men faced him. One pushed his good shoulder. Tony stood his ground. He shoved the other, on the bandage. Gritting his teeth, he kept his expression bland. Reaching out, he grabbed her shift and tossed it to her. Growling insults, the biggest man, a ruffian with a greasy wig and bad teeth, stepped forward and grasped Tony’s arms. Hard.

The pain only exacerbated Tony’s fury. “Get out of here. I’ll come with you if you let her go.”

Laughter echoed painfully around the room. At least he had the cramped conditions on his side. He stayed where he was, his body between theirs and hers. Behind him, a stifled sob told him all he wanted to know. Fabric rustled as she scrambled into her shift. He had no thought to his own nakedness, not caring, but she was a modest maid, until two nights ago a virgin. He would protect her as he’d promised.

“Bring ’em out here!” The shout came from outside. “As they are!”

The men chortled, but backed away and then went up the steps and out of the room. Tony grabbed the pile of clothes, swiftly finding hers, and tossed them to her. By the time they turned back to him, he had his drawers on, his other clothes in his hand. He loitered as long as he dared, but when a pistol appeared in the aperture, he knew his time was up and he stepped up to face it.

He climbed out, keeping hold of his clothes. They could be useful as weapons or shields. If she weren’t with him, he’d toss the bundle at his would-be assailants and run for it.

Who were they? Should he reveal who he was? No. He didn’t recognize any of them, and they wore no insignia nor made any effort to identify themselves.