The Leopard Prince (26 page)

“And how are you going to do that?”

She had an inspiration. “By pleasing you, sir?”

He appeared to give that serious thought. All the while, his cock rubbed against her and his hand fondled her breast. “Well, yes, that might be one way to do it. Are you sure that’s the way you want to choose?”

“Oh, yes.” George nodded fervently.

“And how will you please me?” His voice had lowered to that deep tone that meant he was very aroused.

“By tupping you, sir?”

Harry froze. She was afraid for a moment that she might have shocked him.

Then he lifted his hips. “That’ll do.” And he thrust himself into her, hard and fast.

She felt a scream building in her throat as he pounded her into the mattress, all trace of playfulness wiped from his face. She wrapped her legs high over his hips, digging her heels into his buttocks. He’d let go of her wrists, and she dragged his head down by his hair to kiss him. Deeply. Ravenously. Desperately.

Please, please, dear Lord, don’t let this be the last time.

He was relentless, and she could feel the explosion building within her, but she held it off, forcing open her eyes. It was important that she see him, that they be together at the end. His face was shining with sweat, his nostrils flared. As she watched, his rhythm broke. She let go of his hair to clutch at his shoulders, her entire being focused on keeping him within her.

And she felt it, at the end.

He reared back, his hips still locked with hers. She could feel his cock jump within her. Feel the spurt and warmth of his seed filling her. She arched her head and gave herself over to the waves of her own release, creaming and flooding with his. It was magnificent, like no other thing she had ever felt, having Harry spend in her body. Tears ran down her temples into her tangled hair. How could she ever let him go after this?

Harry suddenly shifted and tried to withdraw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh.” George placed her fingers against his mouth, silencing his apology. “I’m increasing.”

Even knowing he had to withdraw, he’d simply been unable to resist the moment. Unable to resist the woman.

Then sense returned. He rolled off Lady Georgina and stared at her. She was pregnant. He felt a spurt of ridiculous anger, hurt, that all his self-debate and worry didn’t in the end even matter.

She was pregnant.

He’d have to marry her. Whether or not he wanted to marry her. Whether he could bring himself to let go and trust in their love. Whether he was able to fit himself into her life, so far out of his experience. All of that was beside the point now. Put simply, it was no longer of any importance. He’d been trapped by his own seed and a woman’s body. He almost felt like laughing. That least-smart part of himself had made the decision for him.

Harry realized that he’d been staring at his lady far too long. Her hopeful expression had closed into one more guarded. He opened his mouth to reassure her when he caught a flicker from the corner of his eye. He raised his head. Yellow and orange lights danced at the window.

He stood up and strode to the window.

“What is it?” Lady Georgina called from behind him.

In the distance, a pyramid of light lit the night, glowing like something out of hell itself.

“Harry.” He felt Lady Georgina’s fingers on his bare shoulder. “What—?”

“Granville House is burning.”
Bennet.
Panic, pure and instinctual, flooded his veins.

Lady Georgina gasped. “Oh, my dear Lord.”

Harry whirled and caught his shirt, flinging it on. “I need to go. See if I can help in any way.” Was Bennet asleep in his father’s house tonight?

“Of course.” She bent to pick up his breeches. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.”
He snatched the breeches from her hand and tried to control his voice. “No. You must stay here.”

Lady Georgina frowned in that stubborn way of hers.

He didn’t have time for this. Bennet needed him now.

“But I—” she began.

“Listen to me.” Harry finished tucking in his shirt and grabbed his lady’s upper arms. “I want you to do as I tell you. Granville is dangerous. He doesn’t like you. I saw the look he gave you when you took me from his tender care.”

“But surely you’ll need me.”

She wasn’t listening to his words. She thought herself invincible, his beautiful lady, and she was simply going to do as she pleased. Regardless of what he thought. Regardless of Granville. Regardless of the danger to herself and the babe.

Harry felt fear build to an unbearable level inside him.

“I don’t need you there.” He shook her. “You’ll only get in the way. You might get yourself killed. Do you understand?”

“I understand you are worried, Harry, but—”

Would she never give up? “Goddamn it!” He frantically looked around for his boots. “I can’t fight the fire and you at the same time. Stay here!”

There they were, half under the bedskirts. He pulled his boots out and stamped them on, then snatched up his coat and waistcoat. He ran to the door. No use going out the window again—all of England would know soon enough that he’d been in his lady’s bed.

He twisted at the door to repeat, “Stay here!”

On his last glimpse of her, Lady Georgina seemed to be pouting.

He thundered down the stairs, pulling on his coat. He would have to do a lot of apologizing when he returned, but he didn’t have time to think of that now. His brother needed him. He dashed to the front door, waking a sleeping footman as he passed, and then he was out in the night. Gravel crunched beneath his boots. He ran around the corner of Woldsly. He’d tied the mare not far from his lady’s window.

Come on.
Come on.

The mare was standing in the shadows, dozing. He vaulted into the saddle, startling the horse. He kicked her into a gallop, rounding the manor. By the time they hit the drive, the mare was going flat out. Here in the open, the fire seemed to loom larger in the sky. Even from this distance, he could see the flames leaping into heaven. He thought he smelled the smoke. It looked huge. Was the whole of Granville House engulfed? The mare reached the road and he slowed just enough to make sure there were no obstacles ahead. If Bennet and Will had been inside asleep . . .

Harry shook the thought away. He would not think until he reached Granville House and saw the damage.

Past the stream, lights glowed in the cottages dotting the hills. The farmers who lived and worked on Granville land were awake and must know of the blaze. But strangely he met no one else hurrying to the fire. Had they gone on ahead or were they huddled inside their cottages, pretending they didn’t see? He topped the rise before the Granville gates, and the wind blew smoke and dancing ashes in his face. The mare was flecked with foam, but he urged her on down the drive.

And then he saw. The blaze had enveloped the stables, but Granville House was yet untouched.

The mare reared at the sight of the fire. Harry fought her down and forced her closer. As they neared, he could hear the shouting of men and the dreadful roar of the flames consuming the stables. Granville prided himself on his horseflesh, and he probably had twenty or more horses stabled here.

Only two horses were outside the stables.

Harry clattered into the yard, unnoticed by the lord or his servants. Men milled, half-dressed, seemingly in a daze. Their blackened faces were weirdly lit by the flames, the whites of eyes and teeth reflecting the glow. A few had formed a line and threw puny buckets of water on the inferno, merely making the monster more angry. In the middle of it all, Silas Granville was a figure out of hell. In his nightshirt, his bare legs sticking out of buckle shoes, his gray hair standing wildly on end, he surged around the courtyard, shaking his fists.

“Get him! Get him!” Granville cuffed a man, sending him sprawling to the cobblestones. “Goddamn all of you! I’ll see you run out of my lands! I’ll see you hung, you filthy curs!
Someone get my son!
”

Only on the last word did Harry realize a man was trapped in the inferno. He stared at the burning stables. The flames licked hungrily at the walls.
Was it Thomas or Bennet?

“Nooo!”

Somehow, over the roaring and shouting, he heard the thin wail. He swung in its direction and saw Will, held physically off the ground by a burly footman. The boy struggled and fought, his gaze fixed on the flames all the while. “Nooo!”

It was Bennet in there.

Harry jumped from his horse and ran to the line of men hauling water. He grabbed a full bucket and up ended it over his own head, gasping as the cold water slapped him.

“Oy!” someone yelled.

Harry ignored the shout and plunged into the stable.

It was like diving into the sun. The heat embraced and overwhelmed him, pulling him greedily down. The water in his hair and clothes hissed as it turned to steam. A black wall of smoke blocked his way. Around him, horses screamed their fear. He smelled ashes and, horribly, burning flesh. And everywhere, over all the rest, the awful flames eating the stable and everything within.

“Bennet!” He had the breath for one bellow.

His second breath brought ashes and burning heat into his lungs. Harry choked, unable to speak. He pulled his damp shirt up and covered his nose and mouth, but it made little difference. He stumbled forward like a drunkard, desperately feeling with his hands. How long could a man live without air? His foot struck something. Unable to see, he fell forward. He landed on a body, felt hair.

“Harry.” A ghastly rasp.
Bennet.

Harry searched quickly with his hands. He’d found Bennet. And another man.

“Have to get him out.” Bennet was on his knees, struggling to pull the man, moving the dead weight only an inch or two.

Nearer the floor, the air was a little better. Harry gasped, taking in a lungful, and grabbed one of the unconscious man’s arms. He heaved. His chest burned and his back ached as if the muscles were tearing. Bennet had the man’s other arm, but he’d obviously reached the end of his rope. He pulled only feebly. Harry hoped,
prayed,
that they moved in the direction of the stable door, that he’d not gotten turned around in the smoke and screaming and ashes and death. If they went in the wrong direction, they would die here. Their bodies would be so thoroughly burned that no one would know which man was which.

My lady needs me.
He grit his teeth and pulled against the agony in his arms.

I will be a father soon.
His foot caught and he staggered, but kept himself upright.

My child will need me.
He could hear Bennet sobbing behind him, whether from the smoke or from fear, he didn’t know.

Please, God, they both need me. Let me live.

And Harry saw it: the stable door. He gave an inarticulate shout and coughed convulsively. One last, terrible heave and they were through the stable doors. The cool night air embraced them like the kiss of a mother. Harry staggered, still clutching the unconscious man. Then other men were there, shouting and helping them away from the flames. He fell to the cobblestones, Bennet beside him. He felt small fingers on his face.

He opened his eyes to see Will in front of him. “Harry, you came back.”

“Aye, I did.” He laughed and then started coughing, hugging the wiggling boy to himself. Someone brought a cup of water, and he sipped at it gratefully. He turned to Bennet, a smile on his face.

Bennet still wept. He coughed convulsively and clutched the unconscious man in his arms.

Harry frowned. “Who—?”

“It’s Mr. Thomas,” Will said in his ear. “He went into the stables when he saw the fire. Because of the horses. But he didn’t come out, and Bennet ran in after him.” The boy patted Harry’s face again. “He made me stay with that man. I thought he’d never come out again. And then you went in, too.” Will wrapped his thin arms around Harry’s neck, nearly throttling him.

Harry gently pried loose the boy’s arms and looked at the man they’d pulled from the stable. Half his face was blistered and red, the hair singed black and short on that side. But the other half was recognizable as Bennet’s older brother. Harry held the side of his hand beneath Thomas’s nose. Then he moved his fingers to the man’s neck.

Nothing.

He touched Bennet’s shoulder. “He’s dead.”

“No,” Bennet rasped in an awful voice. “No. He grasped my hand inside. He was alive then.” He raised red-rimmed eyes. “We pulled him out, Harry. We saved him.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry felt helpless.

“You!” Granville’s roar came from behind them.

Harry jumped to his feet, fists clenched.

“Harry Pye, you goddamn criminal, you started this fire! Arrest him! I’ll see you—”

“He saved my life, Father,” Bennet choked out. “Leave Harry alone. You know as well as I that he didn’t set the fire.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” Granville advanced menacingly.

Harry took out his knife and sank into a fighting crouch.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Thomas is dead,” Bennet said.

“What?” Granville looked for the first time at his eldest son, lying by his feet. “Dead?”

“Yes,” Bennet said bitterly. “He went in after your damn horses and died.”

Granville scowled. “I never told him to go in there. Stupid thing to do, just like everything else he’s ever done. Foolish and pointless.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bennet whispered. “He’s still warm. He breathed his last only minutes ago, and you’re already demeaning him.” He glared up at his father. “They were your horses. He probably ran in there to win your approval, and you can’t even give him that after death.” Bennet laid Thomas’s head down on the hard cobblestones and rose to his feet.

“You’re a fool, too, for going in after him,” Granville sputtered.

For a moment Harry thought Bennet would hit his father. “You’re not even human, are you?” Bennet said.

Granville frowned as if he hadn’t heard, and maybe he hadn’t. His son’s voice was nearly ruined.

Bennet turned away nevertheless. “Did you talk to Dick Crumb?” he asked Harry in a voice so low no one else could hear. “I don’t think Thomas set this fire and then ran into it.”

“No,” Harry replied. “I went to the Cock and Worm earlier, but he never showed.”

Bennet’s face was grim. “Then let’s go find him now.”

Harry nodded. There was no longer any way to put it off. If Dick Crumb had set this fire, he would hang for it.