What A Gentleman Wants (30 page)

“I see that.” He cupped her cheek in his big hand, rubbing his thumb over her lips until she took it between her teeth and bit him. He blinked, then pressed her face to the side, baring her neck. Hannah heard a faint squeak—goodness, had she made that sound?—as he nipped her back, right on that spot below her ear, just as he thrust powerfully into her. The next thrust rocked her hips off the bed, and then his fingers were between their bodies, and Hannah almost screamed as he pressed with exquisite delicacy. “Better?” he breathed in her ear. Hannah tried to move her head yes, as he came into her again. She dug her toes into the sheets, straining even closer to him. He groaned, but didn’t speed up. Hannah felt desperate; almost, almost, almost… until release splashed through her. And then his restraint seemed to snap, and he drove into her again and again with long hard thrusts that probably should have hurt but instead only pushed her farther into the waves of pleasure that kept coming until she thought she wouldn’t survive it. She could hardly breathe—she saw stars dancing before her dazed eyes…

Just when it seemed too much, Marcus stopped, shuddering with his own release. His forehead touched hers, his breathing ragged against her lips. “Not glass,” he said on a sigh. “Fire.”

The intense pleasure burst, like a bubble popping inside her, the last ripples swirling against her bones. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, her strength completely washed away by the sense of complete contentment coursing through her. Marcus shifted, adjusting his weight, then relaxed with a sigh on top of her, as if he, too, couldn’t—or didn’t want to—move.

Slowly her heart returned to a normal rhythm. He still lay motionless across her, his arms around her and his head on her shoulder. It was, quite simply, perfect. Here, alone with him, Hannah forgot about the outside world, the explanations that would be required, the difficult choices that must be made. Here in his arms, it only mattered that she loved him.

Hannah didn’t hear the door open on the other side of the room. She didn’t hear what, if anything, Lily said. She did hear the crash of the breakfast tray hitting the floor, as every cup and dish slid off and shattered. She gasped. Marcus lifted his head.

“Go,” he ordered. Hannah peeked around his arm to see Lily, her face white, her wide eyes fixed on them. Hannah flushed, realizing how obvious it was what they were doing.

Abruptly Lily blinked, then fell to her knees and began stacking the broken dishes back on the tray. Lily must be even more embarrassed than she was, and probably feared getting sacked as well. And yet, as embarrassing as it was to be caught in this position, Hannah felt a horrid urge to laugh. She squeezed Marcus’s shoulder in mute appeal.

He glanced down at her, banked desire still warming his eyes. “Leave it,” he said, almost lazily. The clink of china continued unabated. “Leave,” he said again, with an edge. The clinks stopped immediately, and a moment later the door opened and closed softly.

“Oh, dear,” Hannah whispered.

His eyebrow arched, and he draped one arm across her, sending a thrill through Hannah that had nothing to do with Lily. “What?”

“I should have told her to knock,” she said, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

He shrugged. “No doubt she will, from now on.” Hannah lost her battle against the giggles, and she laughed until her side hurt. Marcus just watched her, smiling. When she finally calmed down a bit, he leaned down, his palm caressing her hip suggestively, and murmured, “We must use my bed next time. No one would ever disturb us there.”

She laughed again. Marcus was teasing her, still a rare and unexpected thing. He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows and looking like a naughty boy plotting more mischief. How she loved him like this. And what he’d said: from now on.
I want you to stay forever
, echoed his voice from last night. Hannah pushed away the question, almost before it could form, what precisely that meant. She wasn’t going to let that worry ruin this moment; there would be plenty of time to ask him later. Instead she looped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to that happiness.

“I suppose we shall have to go down to breakfast,” he said sometime later. “Now that every maid in the house will have been warned to stay out of this room.”

Hannah laughed, rubbing her cheek against his chest. His fingers were playing in her hair, which felt like one great tangle. “I suppose. Although it sounds like too much work, getting up, getting dressed…”

“Hmm. There was that suggestion of wearing only the pearls.” He stroked all the way down her back. “I should like to see that sometime,” he added, making Hannah blush. His hand slowed to a stop just above the curve of her bottom. “Alas, I have other pressing matters this morning.”

Of course. David. His name lingered unspoken between them. She could sense Marcus’s wididrawal as the silence lengthened, and she touched his arm, clinging to the closeness of a few moments ago. “What will you do?” she asked quietly.

His eyes focused on her again, and he sighed. “I don’t know. I vowed David would be his own man after what he did. I told myself I would let him go his own way, any wicked way he chose, and suffer the consequences. I fear I have contributed to his actions by saving him too many times.”

“But someone beat him very badly.” David ought to bear the consequences of his actions; Hannah was all in favor of that. But he didn’t deserve to be killed. Marcus should at least know what his brother was involved in, given what he had suspected.

“Yes. I know.” He kissed her. “So I am suspending judgment until David has told me his story.”

Hannah could only kiss him back. For all his exacting, strict ways, he had the heart to suspend judgment for his brother, who really had behaved abominably.

“As happily as I could stay here with you all day,” he broke off the kiss to say, “I cannot.” Hannah heaved a sigh, but didn’t protest. She started to sit up, but he caught her arm. “David also wronged you. Is there anything you wish to say to him?”

She turned to him, unable to keep the silly smile from her face. “Despite his trickery, things have come out rather well, don’t you think? I’m feeling rather lenient toward David at the moment.”

His face softened again, and he grinned back. “An excellent point.” The grin faded. “I shall only hope his other actions turn out so fortunately.”

Marcus went to David’s room, bracing himself for what he might hear. Or not hear. Would David tell him anything? Would he take offense at any questions? Marcus just didn’t know.

He tapped at the door, then opened it at the muffled summons. David reclined in bed against a mass of pillows, the
Times in
one hand and a coffee cup in the other. A breakfast tray at his side was covered with empty dishes. He put down the newspaper at the sight of Marcus.

“Good morning.”

David took another sip of coffee. “Is it?”

Marcus checked the quick spike in his temper. “Thus far.”

His brother put the cup back on the tray, a grim set to his mouth. “I expect you’ve spent the night planning how to tell me off, so have a go.” He sat back and folded his arms with a look of sullen martyrdom.

A smile came to Marcus’s face in spite of himself. “To tell the truth,” he replied, “I’ve hardly thought of you at all since last evening.” David’s eyes narrowed warily. “I came to see that you are well, and, should you have anything to tell me, to listen.”

A variety of expressions crossed David’s face. Surprise, followed closely by suspicion, then dawning interest. “Hannah,” he said at last. “That sounds like something she would say.”

Marcus said nothing, and could only hope his thoughts didn’t show on his face. Hannah, indeed.

“Well, well,” said David, sounding rather pleased, “don’t say she got to you, old chap.”

He refused to take the bait. “She sends her sincere wishes for your recovery.”

David waited expectantly, but when Marcus said nothing more, he gave a cynical laugh. “She’d best save them until you finish with me. What sort of penance shall you exact?”

“None. I meant what I said. I’m through nagging and scolding you. It appears you’ve already taken a thrashing from someone for something”—David scowled—“and I have no interest in finishing you off. You’re welcome to stay until you are well, and then go. But this is the extent of my forbearance,” he added. “For what you’ve done to Rosalind and Celia, not to mention to Hannah, my patience is at an end. The slight to myself I can disregard; we’ve always treated each other as squabbling boys. But no more. I won’t respond to it in the future. Should you ever decide to deal with me reasonably, I shall be more than glad to reciprocate in kind, but until then…” He shrugged. “You are your own man, David.”

His brother’s mouth was hanging open. “I say,” he began in an awed voice.

“So, now that I have seen you are well, I leave you to your rest.” He inclined his head, and turned toward the door with a much lighter heart than expected. All the times he had scolded David, he’d always left with a dread of what David would do next to spite him. This time, he didn’t care. Hannah was right; he couldn’t save David from himself. If his brother really didn’t want his help, why should he keep trying to force it on him?

“Wait.” Marcus stopped in the doorway at David’s voice. “You’re not even going to ring a peal over me?”

“Would it do any good?” Marcus shrugged. “I see no point.”

“You’re not going to do anything at all?”

He met his brother’s incredulous gaze. “Aren’t you relieved?”

David cleared his throat, looking severely disconcerted. “Yes, I suppose, but… ahem. But the thing is…” He paused. “The thing is, I’m in a bit of a difficult spot, and to tell the truth, I was… Well, I intended to accept whatever you decreed, because I may need a bit of advice.” Marcus waited. “Or rather, help,” David muttered.

“What sort of difficult spot?”

David shifted uncomfortably. “With some bad fellows. Over money.”

Marcus moved into the room and took a seat. “Oh?”

David fiddled with the dishes on the tray. “I suppose I should start at the beginning,” he said. Marcus nodded once in assent. His brother fidgeted some more, then took a deep breath. “The trouble is, it isn’t just about money, not in the usual sense. I seem to have fallen in with”—David sighed—“counterfeiters.”

“Hmm,” said Marcus quietly. David shot him a piercing glance.

“You don’t seem at all surprised.” Marcus just shook his head. “But then—then you knew, all along? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I suspected,” Marcus corrected. “And I attempted to discover the truth for myself, until I unexpectedly found myself married.” David actually winced. “My efforts to investigate further were somewhat hampered by escorting a wife about town.”

His brother groaned. “Shouldn’t surprise me,” he muttered. “You always were smarter than I was.” Marcus was inwardly shocked by that admission, but didn’t react to it For a minute David stared morosely at his hands, men roused himself again.

“It was the tailor’s assistant,” David said. “Weston refused my custom, out of some snit over bills, and I had just begun patronizing Horrocks. Slocum, the assistant, was fitting a new jacket for me one day and began telling me about a mill he had heard of from another gentleman. I was interested—this was before the Season had begun, and life was dull—and Slocum said he would try to discover more.”

“A tailor’s assistant?” asked Marcus. David flipped one hand, annoyed.

“Dash it all, I know! I wasn’t thinking clearly. It had been a while since I’d seen a good fight, and…” He sighed. “But Slocum put me in contact with a chap named Rourke, and we went out to see the fight. It was a smashing one, too, two bruising fellows. Of course everyone was wagering, and Rourke and I were no different. Every now and then he would joke with me about raising the stakes, depending on how his fellow was doing, and I laughed along with him. It seemed a very close contest, but at one point, one chap—his— fell to the ground bleeding heavily. Rourke said at once he was out, but I pressed him.” David shuddered. “I challenged him to double the stakes. No sooner had he agreed than the bloody fellow got to his feet and laid into my man. Not ten minutes later he was declared the winner. When I tried to settle my debt with Rourke, I was shocked to discover all his trifling remarks about the stake had not been in jest, and he considered that I had lost…” David closed his mouth and looked away.

“How much?”

David dragged one hand over his face. “Twelve thousand pounds.”

Marcus could only stare in amazement. “And did you challenge his claim that the stake had been raised so often?”

David wiggled his shoulders, his brow lowered moodily. “There wasn’t much I could say, was there? Gentleman’s honor.”

Marcus clamped his mouth shut to keep from yelling. David’s honor wasn’t the issue at the moment. “And how did you get in with the counterfeiters?”

There was a flash of regret and disgust in his brother’s eyes. “Soon afterward. While I was scrambling for a way to make good my vowels, Rourke called and told me he had a way out of my predicament. Some associates of his were looking for someone to render some small service; a trifle, he called it, not difficult or disruptive to one’s way of life. Naturally I was interested.” He paused. “I should have known, when Rourke said he would consider the debt paid,” he said bitterly. “What they asked was too simple. They wanted me to gamble. To flush out a cheat, they said, someone who had robbed them of something priceless. It wasn’t all that clearly explained, but I gathered he was a person of some importance, someone they couldn’t name publicly without fearing retribution from him. They said they didn’t want to tell me his name, to prevent me from giving it away.

“In any event, they wanted me to gamble with the highest society possible. They would bankroll it entirely, they said, so I wouldn’t feel constrained; winning was not important to them. And Rourke vouched for the fellows, and assured me he would consider our wager settled. So I agreed.”

Marcus had been trying not to say anything for some time. “All you had to do was gamble,” he repeated carefully. “They would give you the money, and didn’t even mind if you lost everything. What on earth made you trust them?”