Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (14 page)

Slowly his thumb moved back and forth, barely skimming her breast. Even through her gown and her stays, she felt the touch as if it were fire burning her skin. Her breath came out in
short pants and her legs tried to move beneath his to alleviate the ache that had taken up residence between her thighs.

Blythe’s hips moved. The hard ridge of him pressed against her back. Her clothes became too rough. She felt every wrinkle, every thread against her inflamed skin. It took all of her self-control to lie as still as possible.

Then his thumb stopped moving. He shifted away from her and after a few torturous moments, his breathing resumed its even cadence. Claire lay there, yearning for something that was out of her reach but that seemed so close just moments ago.

Eventually her heated skin cooled and her legs ceased their restlessness. The ache between her legs eased, but a feeling of unfulfillment wouldn’t go away.

Much to her shock she found her eyes drifting closed. She forced them open and focused on the waistcoat in the corner, but at the moment it seemed too far away, the task much too difficult.

Claire sat up, pushed the hair out of her eyes and blinked into the darkness. She twisted to look behind her. Blythe’s side of the bed was empty, the pillow still indented.

Her gaze went to the corner where he’d tossed the waistcoat. She sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping in defeat. Of course it was gone, and now she truly had lost all chance of retrieving her money. Blythe was not a numbskull, he would certainly hide the money in a different spot. Now that he knew not to trust her he would be ever vigilant.

She slid off the bed. Outside, a clock dinged seven times. Surely she hadn’t slept that many hours that it was evening. It was impossible to believe that she’d actually relaxed enough to sleep while lying next to Blythe, but the clock didn’t lie and she did feel refreshed. Refreshed and ready to take on Blythe one more time.

She made her way to the door and opened it. Bright sunlight streamed through the tall windows that overlooked Notre Dame Cathedral. The sunshine didn’t match with the evening time, which had her wrinkling her brows in confusion.

She spied him silhouetted against one of the windows, the sunlight limning his features in gold. To look at him without knowing his reputation one would have no doubt that he was of the
finest nobility, with those high cheekbones, aristocratic nose and prominent chin. Not to mention the bearing of one who expected, and received, the best of everything.

As if he sensed her perusal he turned to her, his face showing nothing of his thoughts. In fact, he’d revealed entirely nothing to her in the past few days of their acquaintance.

“Good morning, my lady.” He sipped from a heavy mug, no doubt laced with his favorite spirits.

She tilted her head, opting for civility this morning, but making no promises to herself that she would continue with civility. “My lord.”

“I trust you slept well.” The corner of his mouth lifted, not so much in a full-blown smile but close enough and knowingly enough that she felt her cheeks heat.

Her civility began to slip. “You would know, wouldn’t you, my lord?”

Damn her traitorous cheeks, they were on fire as visions of his thumb feathering over the underside of her breast invaded her thoughts. She fought to keep her gaze steady, to keep from glancing at his hands.

His grin was clearly unrepentant and very mischievous. “I took it upon myself to order food to break your fast. I would guess you are hungry.” He motioned to the food with the hand that held the mug. “I also called in a maid to lay out your gowns. There’s hot water in the other room.”

She almost fell to her knees in gratitude. She wanted nothing more than to strip off her filthy gown and soak in a hot tub, but she would be damned if she showed him gratitude.

But then she realized what he’d said. “Break my fast? But it’s evening.”

He chuckled and she found the sound irritatingly pleasant. She had no doubt that when he decided to turn on the charm, ladies fell at his feet. Well, that wasn’t happening with this particular lady, no matter how much charm he exuded.

“It’s the next day.”

“No!” She looked toward the window but the bright sunlight proved him right. She’d slept all day and all night in his arms? Impossible.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

The intimate gleam in his eye had her biting her lip. Surely he didn’t know what he’d done in his sleep. That he’d touched her … breast. That he held her the way he had with his … manhood pressed against her backside. Yet by his look she could have sworn he did.

“I, um.” She waved her hand toward the sitting room. “My clothes.”

His grin was wicked, knowing. Oh, the blasted man!

“By all means.” He sketched a small bow, and with a regal tilt of her head she made her way to the other room. Unfortunately she had to pass him on her way. The spicy scent she was learning to associate with him wrapped him in a cloak of familiarity that had her shoulders stiffening in defense. She didn’t want familiar when it came to this man.

His hair was still damp from his morning ablutions, and he’d changed into a conservative gray waistcoat and black breeches topped with a charcoal coat. He appeared to be a respectable nobleman. A pity he wasn’t.

Her clothes were laid out for her on the chaise, her trunk open, undergarments spilling out of them. She closed her eyes but couldn’t summon the mortification she should be feeling since anger overtook it.

“You searched through my belongings.”

Even though it wasn’t a question she still looked at him over her shoulder.

He shrugged and took another sip from his mug.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

His suddenly serious gaze locked with hers, holding her in its grip. “I believe I found something,” he said, voice rough. “But I’m damned if I know what.”

When Claire hurriedly closed the door behind her, Nathan let loose a gusty sigh. He was damned glad she put the barrier of the door between them because he’d been perilously close to hauling her into the bedchamber to do things his body demanded he do hours ago.

Plenty of times Nathan had been in places that he swore were hell reincarnated. But nothing compared to holding Claire in his arms and forcing himself to act the gentleman when what he wanted was to strip off her gown and make love to her in ways he’d never done before. And that was saying much, for Nathan never held back when bedding a woman.

But last night had been wholly different. He’d lain in a state of extreme, torturous pain, his thumb the only unruly body part that he’d been unable to control. Well, that and his throbbing cock, which remained excruciatingly erect the entire damn night.

He’d actually fallen asleep soon after he dropped her on that bed, so exhausted from the two days of traveling and his night at Marchant’s. But when she touched his hand, he’d come instantly awake and knew exactly what she was about. Instead of being angry, he’d been amused. Until he grabbed her fingers and found the weight of her breast resting against the back of his hand.

Nathan could be a gentleman when he preferred. Last night he didn’t prefer it. Last night he wanted to roll her over and press his body against hers. Instead he settled on dragging her closer until her very acceptable derriere was nestled against his very unacceptable erection.

He’d lain awake the rest of the night, listening to her breathe, knowing exactly when she stopped fighting her own exhaustion and gave in to sleep. That had been even more torturous, for in sleep she’d shed her inhibitions and moved closer to him, clutching his hand to her stomach as if her subconscious knew that he was no threat to her virtue.

Damn that subconscious. He
was
a threat. He’d lain there breathing in her scent. She’d smelled of some sort of flowers but he was buggered if he knew what kind.

Eventually he left the bed. It was either that or leave the gentlemanly behavior behind, and he found he didn’t want to do that. For the first time in a long time he wanted to actually
be
a gentleman instead of just act like one.

However, removing himself to the next room hadn’t eased his wayward thoughts nor cooled his heated body. And her trunk was like a beacon, urging him to look through it. He’d almost laughed when she accused him of rifling through her things. Of course he’d gone through her trunk. He didn’t want to leave it to chance that she’d stored more jewels in other gowns, but that wasn’t the only reason. He wanted to learn more about Claire Hartford. What made her into the woman she was today? What put the wariness in her eyes that didn’t allow her to trust anyone?

He hadn’t found anything other than lacey silk undergarments, which he would admit to no one that he’d pressed against his face to breathe in her womanly scent. Another dastardly mistake, for his body instantly hardened with a yearning he’d barely controlled and doubted he’d control again.

Even now, hours later, he was precariously perched on the razor edge of seething need.

He took a sip of his whiskey-laced coffee and stared blindly out the window while he listened to Claire splash around in the bath and tried to control his body’s reaction to the sounds. Really all he had to do was recall the hurt look in her eyes when she realized he’d stolen her money and that would shrivel any body part that had any inclination toward sweet release.

Guilt nipped at him when he remembered her wounded expression. He wasn’t a thief, although she’d never believe that. But he’d had to make certain she would submit to his plan. He had to make certain she was safe.

He took another sip, found his mug empty and sighed. He wasn’t proud of a lot of things he’d done over the years to keep his family afloat. However, he’d accepted his actions as necessary. But what he was doing now ate at him.

As the owner of his own gaming hell, he took money from men who willingly gambled it away. His customers knew the odds and chose to gamble anyway.

Claire was none of that. She hadn’t knowingly thrown her lot in with him, and even if he did tell her that Sebastian had thrown them together, she was still saddled with him. He wasn’t proud of his actions or the fact that he’d yet to tell her of Sebastian’s role in any of this, yet he couldn’t find it in him to regret it either.

He put the coffee mug on the nearest table. Enough with the maudlin thinking. They were to begin their journey to Calais this morning. As soon as Claire finished her morning bathing and broke her fast. If they made good time he would put her on the ship bound for Dover, hand her
the money and he would head to Italy.

He had no idea if the fellow he saw in Place Dauphine followed them here. He’d let the coach and driver go and planned to hire a new one today to take them to Calais.

He still hadn’t figured out why he was going to Venice but it was a mystery he was willing to solve, because suddenly he cared very much when before he hadn’t cared at all.

Claire emerged from her bath and Nathan’s body clutched in need. Her wet hair hung well past her shoulders, a dark amber rather than the bright red when it was dry. She shot him a cautious look and he tensed. She was up to something. He hadn’t known her long but forced circumstances had taught him well.

There was a calculated gleam in her sea green eyes, a shrewdness he’d seen in Sebastian’s expression many times before.

He waved a hand toward the table filled with all manner of food. “I didn’t know what you preferred so I ordered everything.”

“Chocolate and toast will be fine.”

Ah, so she had a sweet tooth. He liked knowing that little bit about her.

She seated herself at the table and poured chocolate into a teacup, then reached for the toast. “So we leave today?”

Nathan settled across from her, reaching for the eggs. “As soon as we are finished here. I have to be in Venice for a meeting so I need to get you to Calais and on the ship right away.”

She raised a brow. “Another meeting? My, you are an important man.”

“Not really, but I appreciate the compliment.”

She raised her other brow and took a delicate bite of toast, her perfect teeth cleaving the bread. She chewed slowly, contemplating him as she did so.

“I apologize for cutting your holiday short, but I’m certain you’ll be able to return to Paris at a later date and enjoy the city as you meant to,” he said, suddenly nervous and not knowing why.

She swallowed and reached for her cup of chocolate. “You’re certain, are you?”

He didn’t like the coolness of her tone or the lack of emotion, which had been so prevalent the day before.

“I fear that because of my meeting, I will be unable to chaperone you throughout Paris.”

She lay down her toast and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “I don’t believe I asked
you to chaperone me anywhere.”

“I can’t in good faith leave you alone in Paris. Sebastian would have my … Er … Sebastian would be disappointed in me.”

“Ah, yes. Sebastian.” She leaned back and tilted her head.

Nathan’s stomach lurched in apprehension. Damnation. It’d been a long while since he’d felt this sort of anxiety and never from a woman.