Liberty for Paul (22 page)

He might have said something similar to that, but he knew in his heart now—and maybe even then—there was nothing she could do that would make him send her away. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss against her sneering lips, hoping they’d curl into a smile for him when he pulled back. And just like magic, they curved in an upward direction. He pushed another tendril of hair from her forehead and allowed his hand to linger at her temple for a moment before he pushed it behind her ear.

“Now, as for your father, I honestly think his words were just spoken in anger and had no significance attached.” At least they better be or John was going to find himself at the far end of a dueling field after Paul called him out. She didn’t look convinced. “Think about this, you’ve done or said things that weren’t thought out, right? That’s all his words were. I think he may have been overwrought about the scandalous situation he happened upon and didn’t think before he spoke.”

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re rather smart, did you know?”

He grinned. “Thank you.” Here she’d just told him he was smart, and all he could do was string two words together. What a dolt.

“Your wife will be one lucky lady,” she continued, oblivious to his somewhat incoherent state.

“You really think so?” he asked unevenly.

“Yes. I really do.”

“Will you promise me two things?” he asked nervously. He was ready to end this charade and reveal who he was. It was time to be honest, get everything in the open, and then take her home to be his wife in every way.

“Anything,” she said breathlessly.

He looked down at her and stared into her beautiful eyes for one more peaceful minute. He knew once the words were out, it was possible—nay, probable—she’d be mad at first. Exhaling deeply, he said, “When you see your husband again, try to be understanding of what he tells you about those fourteen urchins.”

“All right,” she said with a gulp. “Second?”

“Second, promise me you’ll be yourself, no matter who you’re with.” He waited for her to respond before he ripped off his mustache and revealed the ruse. But she never responded. Not with words anyway. Instead, she rendered him breathless once more when her hands grabbed his cheeks and pulled his lips to hers in a blood pumping, groin hardening, soul searing kiss.

Chapter 26

Liberty had no idea why his words sparked such a reaction in her, but they did. And now she was powerless stop herself from kissing him. This man intrigued her and excited feelings in her she’d never even known existed and kissing him again seemed inevitable. His soft lips moved on top of hers, making her groan with pleasure.

She was a wanton and this proved it. She’d only kissed two men in her life, Tom Daltry, the stranger in black, and her secretive husband, Paul. A pang of guilt stabbed her heart as she remembered her husband. They may not be a love match, but he was her husband and she owed it to him not to kiss strange men in moonlit rooms.

Pulling back, she looked up at this handsome stranger. How was it she felt more comfortable with him than she did with anyone in the world? He’d held her without making demands. He’d listened to her drone on and on about nonsense he probably couldn’t care less about. When he’d spoken, he’d been genuine, not critical of her about anything. He didn’t act scandalized about her actions; instead, he seemed to take them in stride and make a joke. Perhaps that was because she’d conveniently left out some of the worst details. But did it matter? He hadn’t been judgmental of her at all.

“Sorry,” she said with a sultry smile when she realized he was staring at her. “You said to be myself, and well, I must admit I’d been holding that back for a while.”

“It’s all right. I’m sure I’ll survive the shock,” he teased, but his voice sounded gravelly and uneven.

She smiled. “I sure you hope so,” she said, tracing his soft lips with her fingertips.

His hand came up and he started stroking the back of her wrist with one lone finger. His movements were slow and sure with no set pattern. Her fingers stilled on his lips as her body trembled from his scorching touch. He kissed the fingers that she held at his mouth. First, all at the same time, then he grabbed her wrist and held it still while he kissed each fingertip separately. He lowered her hand and bent his head to her parted lips before taking them again.

Mr. Daltry’s kisses had been gentle and coaxing before, but this time it was different, demanding. He clasped her face between his hands, using his thumbs to stroke her cheeks as his mouth plundered hers. Liberty’s hands came up around his neck and sank into his thick, black hair. Twirling her fingers into the soft mass, she let out a gasp when his tongue touched hers.

She felt herself being lowered backwards to the settee and offered no protest to his mechanisms. Leaving his hair, she moved her hands to his face. She was in awe of how soft the skin over such a hard ridge could be so smooth as she traced the edges of his cheekbones. He pulled back and she blinked up at him. He looked just as unsure as she felt. He pulled his hands away and went to sit back up. Feeling bereft at the absence of his hands, she grabbed his wrists. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Stay. Touch me.”

His eyes went wide and she thought he’d refuse and walk away. But he didn’t. He only swallowed hard and asked, “Where?”

She brought his hands to the hard plane in the center of her chest. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

He groaned and seemed to need no more encouragement. His hands started to do a slow and thorough investigation of the top of her chest. His fingers left a searing trail as they traveled along her collarbone and the top of her sternum. Becoming bolder, he leaned down and dropped hot, searing kisses along the same paths his fingers had just taken. She shivered in delight when placed an openmouthed kissed on her chest just above that atrocious gold bow.

His eyes flickered up to her in a silent question, and she lowered her lashes in response, hoping he’d understand. She shivered again when she felt his fingers pull the end of the chord, destroying the bow and loosening her bodice. His hands worked the laces, loosening them as he went. His hands traveled away from the center of her bodice and took hold of the shoulder straps. Very slowly, he pushed her right strap to the edge of her shoulder, kissing each quarter-inch of skin he exposed along the way. When the strap had fallen loose, he kissed her bare shoulder and back to his starting place, this time with an open mouth. She gasped when he dipped his tongue into the hollow right above her clavicle before repeating the tantalizing process on the other side.

When he’d gotten her left sleeve down and had kissed the top of her chest until she thought she’d go insane if he didn’t stop, he looked up at her. “Open your eyes,” he whispered. When she complied, he swallowed and quietly asked, “Are you sure?”

She scanned his taut face. He looked to be struggling with her decision just as much as she was. When she saw his eyes, her mind relaxed and she knew what she wanted. She’d seen that look before. That was the look of hunger and desire. She’d seen it many times, just never meant for her. That was the difference. This man desired
her
. No one else, just her; and though she knew she shouldn’t, she desired him, too. “Yes,” she whispered back.

His lashes lowered and his shaky hands pulled her bodice apart. With how low the bodice on her dress was cut she hadn’t been able to wear a chemise, only her corset. Which was now exposed to Mr. Daltry’s hungry gaze. She swallowed as he put his left elbow next to her head and rested his head onto his fisted hand, looking straight at her chest. He moved his free hand up to her chest and lightly skimmed the planes and slopes with the ends of his fingers.

He flickered his gaze to her, though she couldn’t see it through her closed eyes, she could feel it. He then used his fingers to trace the outline of left breast, followed by the right, causing them both to swell with anticipation.

She knew she should be embarrassed. She was as good as topless with a stranger in her sister’s sitting room. Yet, she wasn’t. Not with him. She just couldn’t be.

His hand moved to the edge of the cup on her corset and she held her breath when it slipped inside and squeezed her tender breast. She felt her nipple tauten against his palm and turned her head to the side in pleasure at the sensation of his rough palm chafing her.

“Can we loosen this?” he asked, his voice uneven and his breathing ragged.

“In the back,” she whispered, “just pull the string at the top.” She arched up so he could reach under her and untie the string that would loosen her stays.

He untied the string and she felt the cups fall loose, exposing her breasts to his consuming gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped, bringing his hand back to her naked breast.

“I’m sure you say that to all your lovers,” she blurted.

“Never,” he said, shaking his head. “Only you.”

He said something else, but she didn’t hear it, she couldn’t hear anything when he was sending waves of pleasure through her body like this. He continued to shape her left breast with firm and tender squeezes while he bent his head to the breast closest to him and feathered kisses on her skin, causing it to tingle. Holding her nipple between his thumb and index finger, he gave it a light squeeze while his lips placed a gentle kiss on her other pebbled peak. She sighed and arched her back in pleasure.

His hand spread to cup her swollen breast while his mouth continued its wicked exploration of the other. His lips parted over the tip of her breast before covering it. She cried out in pleasure when his tongue flicked, then circled the rigid peak. His hand left her breast and moved to the center of her chest where he used one of his long, blunt-tipped fingers to move as if spelling out a message while his mouth continued laving her.

His mouth released her breast and blew a small puff of warm air over the tip, making her shiver. “Would you do it again?” she asked when she was sure he was looking at her. It was hard to see anything anymore now that the moon had slipped behind a group of trees.

She felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, before he said, “If it’s what the lady wishes, I shall be happy to comply.” Then he bent his head to her other breast.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said with a pleasure-induced sigh.

He released her and moved his head up to look at her. “Did I mistake your pleasure?” he asked, his voice hoarse, unsure.

“No, not at all,” she assured him, reaching up to stroke his silky hair. “I liked it very much. But I missed the letters you wrote. Would you do it again, please?”

“Oh,” he said, comprehension dawning. He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry,” he said before he turned his head to the side and planted a searing kiss in her palm.

Disappointment at never knowing the identity of those elusive letters cut through the haze of lust and desire that had surrounded itself around her, but a door slamming not so far away, made it shatter. Eyes wide, she asked, “Did you hear something?”

She felt his head nod against her hand. “I think it came from the room right next to us. Whose room is that?”

Panic seized her chest. “Brooke and Andrew’s,” she said quickly, not caring she had referred to her brother-in-law so informally in Mr. Daltry’s presence.

“That door connects the two rooms, doesn’t it,” he said, pointing a door in the middle of the wall that ran adjacent to her sister’s room.

She gulped, then nodded. The muffled sounds of voices could be heard through the wall. The very real possibility that someone could come walking through that door and find them at any minute terrified her. “We have to get out of here,” she hissed, trying to scramble from his grasp.

“All right,” he said, helping her to her feet. “How do I get out of the house?”

“Leave this room and go to the right. Walk down to the end of the hall, then go left and go down the servants stairs. At the bottom there’ll be a back door on the right,” she said, trying to bring her dress up.

“Do you need any help,” he asked, grabbing his cloak.

“Can you do my corset?” she asked hopefully.

“This might shock you, but I’m not all that familiar with ladies clothing,” he said sheepishly. “I suppose I just have to retie it, right? Hold on a second, and I’ll try.” He grabbed the loose strings on the back of her corset and started trying to tie it.

She smiled at his confession. “And here I thought all men knew how women’s clothing worked,” she teased.

“No, most are more concerned with getting a woman out of her gown, not so much with getting her back into it,” he said, tying the strings.

“And are you only interested in getting a woman out?”

“Would I be tying up your corset if that were the case?” he asked, taking a step back to look at his handiwork.

“No, I suppose not. You didn’t do it right, I’m afraid.” She turned around to show him that when she pulled up her bodice, she couldn’t get it to close because her corset wasn’t tight enough and her breasts were too big.

“It’s the effort that counts, right?” he said with a roguish smile she could barely see. “Here,” he said, grabbing his cape, “drape this over the front of you and walk to your room”

She grabbed the cape and tried to cover up the best she could with it. It was useless though. With her shoulder straps stuck in the middle of her upper arm and not budging when she tried to yank them up, she had limited mobility. When she’d tried to maneuver the cape in a way to get the cloth to just rest on her shoulders, it would fall down because it was too heavy, and expose her barely covered breasts and gaping bodice. After the third attempt, she let it slide to the floor and mumbled, “I suppose I’ll just have to go like this. Hopefully, nobody will see me.”

Holding his sword and picking up his cape, he walked with her to the door that led to the hallway. He handed her his sword and cape and said, “Hold these. Which room is yours?”

“Wh—what are you planning to do?” she asked cautiously as she watched him peek his head out the door to see if there was anyone in the hallway.

“What does it look like? I’m going to carry you. Now, which room is yours?”

She swallowed a nervous bubble that had formed in her throat and said, “Second door on the left.”

“Very well.” He nodded and reached an arm around her shoulder and the one around her knees, then scooped her up. Once he got her settled in his arms, he whispered, “Use the cape to cover up anything you don’t want seen.”

Without a second’s hesitation, she brought the cape all the way up to the top of her head to cover her face as well as her gaping bodice. “I think they’d still recognize you,” he said in a low tone, his chest rumbling with a low chuckle.

She snapped the cloak down off her face. “What do you mean?” she asked with wide, curious eyes.

He glanced at her feet. “The bottom of your dress and slippers are still exposed. They’ll know you’re a woman, not some parcel for delivery.”

“That’s all right. They won’t know my identity. They’ll just think I’m some doxy you found at the ball,” she said, flashing him a smile then covering her head again.

Slipping quietly from the room, he carried her down to hers. While his strong hands held her tightly to him, her ear rested against his heart and listened to its strong and steady beat as it sounded in time with his sure steps.

Once they crossed the threshold of her room, he paused for a moment before carrying her to the bed. Gently placing her on the bed, he took a few steps back and she instantly missed the heat of his large body. Lowering the cape, her eyes were drawn to the fire that was already blazing in the hearth. Mr. Daltry, stood next to it with his hands in his pants pockets, looking rather serious. “I should probably go now,” he said after minute.