For the Love of a Soldier (39 page)

He needed her in his arms, preferably naked and preferably alone. His eyes shifted to Beau, who was running in circles around a sand castle.

“Bang, you’re dead.”

Garrett froze and his heart stopped cold.

After what felt like an interminable amount of time, he managed to feel his blood still flowed and slowly he lifted his hands to turn and face his adversary.

Christ. Deacon, one of his own men. Noting the man’s wide-eyed look of surprise, he frowned.
What the…?

Deacon stumbled back and lowered the gun he held, his apologies spewing forth in a panicked rush. “Christ. So sorry, Captain. I thought ye was Ned. I was funnin’ Ned. I mean, I knew Marcus wouldn’t let anyone through on his watch ’cept for Ned, so I thought…From the back you and Ned…”

“I understand.” Garrett had to swallow, his mouth spit dry, his heart only now settling into a smooth rhythm. “And where is our good man Ned?”

“He went to take a piss. That is, he went…”

Garrett held up his hand. “Again, I understand.”

Deacon shifted his feet, his cheeks flaming. “Again, me apologies, Captain.”

“It’s all right.” For he was alive—this time. His eyes strayed back to Alexandra and he swallowed. They were on borrowed time. He’d steal a little more of it because after the last few days they had earned it, but then they had to return to the city and find his killer. It’s what brought Alex and him together, and he’d be damned if it was what tore them apart. Not now. Not after she was his.

He turned to address Deacon. “Keep an eye on Beau till Ned returns. Lady Alexandra and I have somewhere to go.” Lady Alexandra. He liked the ring of it, but Lady Kendall sounded much better.

With purposeful strides he walked down to the beach, his eyes fixated on Alexandra, who was bending down to lift a shell from the sand. She lifted her head as his shadow fell across her, raising her hand to shield her eyes. A gasp escaped her and she sought to stand, staggering back from him.

He curled his hands around her upper arms and yanked her to him. He hauled her to her toes, crushed his mouth to hers, and all but inhaled her. His arms snaked around her, molding her body to his while his lips plundered hers as if he could swallow her whole. He tasted chocolate on her tongue. The
potent mixture of the confection and Alex was incredibly arousing and he deepened the kiss, his mouth devouring. He couldn’t get enough of her. His hand slid into the hair at the base of her neck and held her to him as his mouth drank from hers. God, she felt good. She was all he had ever dreamed of the past week.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Beau’s gagging noises separated them.

Alex recoiled from Garrett, her face burning as she stumbled away.

“You looked like you were eating her.” Beau made a face.

Garrett’s eyes roved over Alex’s beet-red face and he smiled, wanting to lift her in his arms and spin her around. Wanting to, as Beau said, devour her whole. “Brilliant idea, Nelson, because I happen to be starving.” Acting on his earlier impulse, he lunged forward and swept Alexandra into his arms. He swung her over his shoulder, his hand firm on her buttock, securing her in place. His laughter drowned out her shriek of indignation.

“Deacon will help you build a moat for your castle until Ned returns. Don’t drown all the knights.” Garrett spoke over his shoulder as he strolled up the beach, Alex right where he wanted her. She pounded his back and he grunted. Well, not quite yet, but soon. “Put me down! Put me down this instant!” Alex pummeled him and raged in his ear.

“What do you think you’re doing acting like an apeman buffoon?”

An apeman buffoon? She certainly had a way with words.

“What are you doing? Garrett, stop!” She punched his back. “Listen to me!”

His beautiful English rose with sharp thorns. He adored her. He nodded to Marcus, who held Champion’s reins. They hadn’t covered too much ground, so a few more miles wouldn’t hurt the tireless horse.

“Garrett!” Alex gasped when he lifted her and set her on the saddle. Luckily, she wore a simple blue day dress. The fewer clothes, the better. Once they reached the lodge, they wouldn’t need any. Havers would deliver some food, and that was
all
they would need.

“Garrett, wait!” The plaintive tone in her cry stopped him. He paused and lifted his gaze to hers. “My uncle. Does he still live?”

He clenched his jaw and swung up behind her. After a minute, he managed a terse reply. “Unfortunately.”

“What happened? Was he very angry?”

Garrett frowned. “We’ll get to all that later. Trust me.”

“Garrett, I—”

“Not now, Alex. I mean it.” His words were final. He’d be damned if her uncle ruined their plans. He’d done enough damage to their relationship.

“I do. I do trust you.”

He paused at the barely audible words and then kicked Champion into a canter. Alex’s responding cry restored his smile. When she clung to him and called him an obtuse, domineering, arrogant ass, his laughter rang out his joy.

He wasn’t domineering but decisive. There was a difference. He was a man who knew what he wanted. Once they reached the lodge and he rid Alex of her clothes, he’d see to it that she wanted the same thing. He grunted when she elbowed him in the gut.

By God, she was a magnificent fighter and he adored her. Thorns and all.

A
LEX CLUNG TO
Garrett’s arm circling her waist and silently seethed. He had no right to sweep her onto Champion without explanation or word of greeting and…and abduct her! Unless he had news to the contrary, they were not a properly betrothed couple. He didn’t own her. She gritted her teeth. There would be no discussion of marriage until certain questions were asked and answered.

Like what
did
happen at her uncle’s?

Why hadn’t Garrett killed him?

Not that she wanted her uncle dead, but she wouldn’t mind torturing him with Kit’s rack. And if Garrett wasn’t burying a body, what took him so damn long? She would stand strong and speak her mind because if Garrett thought there would be any more kisses or…

Her thoughts trailed off when Garrett reined Champion to
a stop and she recognized the hunting lodge that had sheltered them all those weeks ago. “Oh,” she breathed, snapping her mouth closed at Garrett’s rumble of laughter. Her heart thudded in her chest and she bit her lip, feeling her traitorous body respond to the memories.

She wasn’t that strong after all. She was a weak, pitiful thing.

Garrett dismounted and assisted her down, but before she could gain her footing, he crushed her to him, his mouth swooping down and covering hers. His large hand cradled her head, his free arm circling her waist and bending her body into his. An almost savage desperation filled his kiss, erasing all thoughts of her uncle or explanations from Alex’s mind. Surrendering to the intensity of his ardor, she became pliant, her knees weakening and a delicious shudder ripping through her body.

She didn’t regret her capitulation, for Garrett was right. They should not let her uncle come between them again. Garrett might have foiled her uncle’s machinations, but the far graver matter of the murderous plot against Garrett remained unresolved. This threat shadowed their time together and made it all the more precious.

It was time they stopped wasting it.

Garrett’s desperation now gripped Alex, and she locked her arms around his neck and breathed him in. The feel of him, vibrantly alive, safe, and in her arms, forced the black thoughts to the back recesses of her mind.

Heart pounding, she reveled in the sensory overload that comprised Garrett. His body, hard and firm against hers, was sun-warmed from his ride and radiated a burning heat. She tasted cider and cinnamon as her tongue danced with his. He must have washed recently for the hair curling over the nape of his neck was still damp and curled around her fingers. He smelled of a mixture of sandalwood soap, fresh air, and needy male. She drank it all in, before she moved away to draw a ragged breath, closing her eyes as his lips traveled over her flushed features. He kissed her temple, her hot cheeks, and moved down to press his lips to the rapidly beating pulse at her neck.

She felt her knees buckle and tightened her grip on Garrett,
who released a triumphant laugh and swung her into his arms. He carried her to the door, fumbling to unlatch it, his efforts assisted with a solid kick that sent the weather-beaten barrier crashing open. He crossed the threshold, shouldered the door closed behind him, and gave her a look rich with question and smoldering with desire. Her answer was to reach up and secure the latch, locking them within. His head lowered and again their lips met.

As he kissed her, he withdrew his arm from beneath her legs and let them slide intimately down his body. She felt the taut hardness of his flat stomach, the strength of his muscular thighs and through his trousers, the bulge of his arousal pressed against the juncture of her thighs. Her breath quickened, and she was surprised when her legs supported her weight.

His hands threaded through her hair, undoing her combs. Freed strands tumbled down her back, his fingers sliding through the thick locks.

He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, the compelling gray of them silver bright and intense. “Stay with me. Be with me. Love me.”

Poetry
. She smiled. “When my father had a winning streak, he attributed it to ‘Langdon luck,’ which he promised me I would inherit. When I lost to you at Hammond’s, I thought he was wrong.” Her voice lowered. “But he wasn’t. I believed I had lost everything that day, but I hadn’t. I had won more than I had ever dreamed.”

And by God, she refused to lose it.

Silently she vowed to keep Garrett safe. To fight for him as he fought her uncle.
Whatever it takes.

She ignored the lurch of her heart and forced herself to steady her tremulous smile as she met Garrett’s heated gaze.

Garrett dipped his head. His kiss was deep and sweet, his tongue stroking lightly over her lips. When he drew away, he grinned. “Best hand I ever won.” He gripped her hips and nudged her back, turning toward a closet in the corner of the room.

Bemused, she watched him open the door, her eyes widening when he withdrew a stack of what appeared to be clean blankets from a shelf. Two pillows were piled on top. She raised a brow. “Yours?”

“Yes.” Garrett’s eyes sparkled. He dropped the stack on the hearth and knelt to spread a blanket on the floor.

Her eyes fastened on his jacket as it tightened over his shoulders, and she swallowed. “Were you expecting company? You appear prepared.”

“Soldiers learn to be prepared for every contingency.” His gaze swept her body in a slow, hot perusal that stripped her naked.

Her breath caught and she lifted a hand to her heart.

Garrett emitted a low, husky laugh and grabbed another blanket to flatten it on top of the first. “I had hopes of abducting you earlier but was having difficulties prying the boys from your side. Then this business with your uncle interrupted us.” He tossed the pillows onto the makeshift bed and stood. A predatory gleam entered his eyes as he stalked her. “So we’re a bit off schedule, which means we have catching up to do.” His eyes fastened on her lips, dropped to the rise and fall of her breasts, slid down her thighs, and then slowly and insolently traveled back up. Meeting her gaze, he lifted a cocky brow in challenge.

Every place his eyes touched burned, heat spiraling through her, but she lifted her chin and met his dare. More than ready for him. “Mmh, so where do we begin?”

A spark of appreciation lit his eyes. “First, we take up where we left off in my bedroom before you ran out.” He held up his finger and wagged it at her. “And this time, there’ll be no escaping.”

She felt a warm, moistening pool at the juncture of her thighs and had to swallow before she could respond. “I see. And second?”

He captured a strand of hair where it curled against her chest. Her breath caught as his fingers brushed her breast. Gently tugging on her hair, he drew her to him. “Second, we need to get rid of all these cumbersome clothes. They are
not
part of my plans.”

His eyes were heavy-lidded and darkened with a fiery passion that had her mouth going dry. She wished he would stop talking and rid her of her clothes. As if he could read her mind, he released her hair and slowly began to undo the pearl buttons lining the bodice of her gown. She was grateful he hadn’t lit a
fire. His touch and burning looks were combustible. She shivered when his hands brushed her gown from her shoulders and it pooled at her feet.

“Now what?” she breathed.

A wicked light flared in his eyes and he lifted his hand to gently, slowly, tortuously trace one finger over the round curves of her breasts, bared above her chemise.

“Now? Why now, I caress every inch of your delectable body, bathe you with hot, wet kisses, and thoroughly, completely seduce you. But to be done right, we must move slowly…very slowly.”

Her breath quickened when his thumb brushed her nipple, circling the sensitive peak and sending ripples of pleasure throughout her limbs. She nearly joined her gown in a limp heap on the floor. Slowly? Dear God, didn’t he know their time was precious? Her desire funneled, pouring more moisture between her legs, and she shifted her stance. Slowly? She couldn’t wait. She wanted him now.