Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series Page 19

  He jerked as if she’d hurt him, and his hand closed around her wrist, stopping her. Lifting her gaze to his, she saw something rawer than passion, fiercer than desire. It was longing. And it made her heart soar. He released her, but she had the sense that he would allow her only so much freedom to explore.

  She touched him again, tentatively. His flesh was like velvet, so smooth she couldn’t help but brush her fingers down the length of him. Bane groaned in response but did not stop her. A bead of dew at the very tip caught a shaft of moonlight, making her curious. Lifting up on her elbows, she studied him closely, noting the dusky color of his engorged flesh, the veins that ran the considerable length of him, the thatch of thick coal black hair at the base. Her fingertips explored all of him, eliciting more groans from his throat and making that part of him twitch and follow her touch. The bead of dew swelled, drawing her complete attention. She touched it, feeling the slick silken texture of it between her fingers.

  Curious, she went to touch him again only to have him stop her. She looked up and saw his eyes turn dark with passion. Now, there was only the barest ring of silver around his pupil. The tendons of his neck strained against his flesh as he breathed hard and heavy through his nostrils. “No more, my love. I need to have you. Now.”

  Though his words were said with some urgency, he gently took her hand in his, threading their fingers together as he lowered his body over hers. She felt the heat of him instantly, felt her legs tremble as that hard ridge pressed between them. He kissed her tenderly, his lips brushing back and forth over hers. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and felt her body relax. Strange, she wasn’t even aware of being nervous until the feeling was already gone.

  Still holding her hand, Bane stroked the sensitive flesh of her palm with the pad of his thumb. Even though he stroked her hand, she felt it somewhere else.

  Oh. Her lips parted on a sigh of wonder. The tip of his tongue swept in to taste her. She opened for him, tilting her head to take him deeper. At the sound of his groan, the ache flared back to life. A swift torrent of flames burned deep inside her, begging for that cool rush of ecstasy.

  Merribeth squeezed his hand. Restless again, she rubbed against him, hips arching. The coarse hair on his chest teased her nipples, making them ache as well. He shifted lower, nudging her thighs apart with his. She gasped when she felt that jutting part of him press against her, against the insistent throbbing, as if he alone knew how to ease the ache.

  Proving it, he rocked his hips, sliding his length against her. She squeezed his hand tighter, wanting more, begging for it as his name tore from her throat. He obliged with another slow, torturous slide. It only made the throbbing more insistent.

  She craved that sensation of bliss, but the ache only grew and grew. He wasn’t pressing hard enough. Instinctively, she lifted her knees to anchor the heels of her feet into the mattress.

  Bane made a sound of approval and rewarded her with a deep, drugging kiss. He shifted again until she felt his thickness prod the opening of her body. Thousands of sensations flooded her. When he moved his hips, she could feel his heat inside her. He stretched her—her body welcoming him and yet feeling invaded at the same time. As if sensing this, he withdrew.

  The second time he edged inside, the stretch began to feel pleasant. The nuances left her hungry. The ache had shifted. It lay deeper now, at her core, and she was impatient to have him at the source. “More,” she said, arching against him. “I want more of you.” Her soul demanded it. She wanted all of him.

  He groaned. “Soon, my love. I want to give you pleasure again.”

  He pushed slightly deeper. Her body resisted. Closing around him caused a sweet tug against her throbbing flesh. Oh, that was nice. And because he seemed to know the wants of her body better than she did, he withdrew and pushed inside again, making her want more still.

  He kept this up, with shallow thrusts, building her need, making her moan. She felt close to the precipice. Then suddenly, like before, her hips jerked and arched. The first wave of bliss crashed. He drove deeper, tearing her, stretching her, filling her. “Ah!”

  He held still, his body flush against hers, his breath heavy against her cheek. He was giving her time, she realized, to take an accounting. Her body clenched around him in quick syncopation with her pulse. That part felt nice. However, she was also aware of pain, of feeling too full and slightly bruised. It was sort of the same pain as when she bumped her knee into a low table, albeit in a completely different place. Whenever that happened, she rubbed her hand over the injury to stop the painful stinging. She wondered if the same method would apply.

  “Again,” she said but closed her eyes in case she was wrong.

  “Beautiful but demanding.” He chuckled, though it too sounded pained as he brushed his lips over hers. “Allow me a moment, my love. You feel extraordinarily warm and snug, and I am nearly over the edge.”

  She blinked up at him and saw his grimace. “Oh.” The word left her on a breath.

  “Precisely.” His features softened as he gazed at her. Then he drew up the hands that were still entwined and turned her wrist to press a kiss there. Lifting her arm, he settled it over her head and pressed another kiss to her Wakefield brow, lingering. His kiss drifted down over each eyelid, the crests of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, both corners of her mouth, and then finally settled firmly in place, drawing a sigh of pure pleasure from her.

  He moved within her slowly, the pain forgotten moment by moment. As his kiss deepened, so did his thrusts, gliding inside her with a delicious friction that made her match his movements. With her captive hand, she squeezed him, and with her free hand, she clung to him.

  His free hand slipped beneath her, settling into the curve of her lower back. He lifted her hips from the mattress, driving into her with even more speed and urgency as if they were racing toward a summit.

  She felt it too, the need to reach it together. Her body tingled in a way that she now identified as the instant before ecstasy washed through her. Yet this time it was building more and more, as if something bigger were about to happen. This was new to her, so she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she trusted Bane. She loved him with her heart, her soul, and now her body. She was his as much as he was hers in that moment—

  His name left her lips on a sob of sheer rapture. He must have felt it too, for he shouted a wordless oath as he thrust hard once—twice—three times, before stilling.

  Bane pressed his forehead against hers, their labored breaths merging as one. The sweat of his brow felt cool against her fevered skin. He kissed her again, and in that moment, she felt cherished. It was magic and more than she could have ever dreamed. She was right to fall in love with Bane. This was perfect.

  And yet, it couldn’t last. Not for him, at least. For her, though, this would be the single brightest moment in her life. A sudden sting of tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Before she could control it, her vision turned watery as she gazed up at him.

  “Tears of Venus,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of each eye. “I will drink them in and take away your pain.”

  “They’re not from pain.”

  He did as he said he would and kissed her until her tears were gone. “Then what?”

  From love, she would have said if she’d remembered to be brave. “I don’t know.”

  He smiled down at her with such tenderness that she felt he must know the truth, but he didn’t call her on it. “Then I’m certain I don’t know either.” He shifted, leaving her body to lie beside her. Drawing her into his arms, he settled her head against his shoulder. “Perhaps if we lay here a while, we’ll find the answer.”

  The hair on his chest tickled her lips, and so she pressed them against his flesh before she lifted her face. “I should be going.”

  “There’s no rush.” He kissed her brow. “We have hours before dawn.”

  And because she wanted to cling to this moment for as long as she dared, she
didn’t argue.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Merribeth awoke in her own bed. Alone.

  In the early hours of the morning, Bane had removed a storm shutter from his window and placed it across the space between their balconies. Then, he’d picked her up and carried her to her room. Following her inside, he’d built a fire in the hearth to take away the chill in the air. Before he left, he’d kissed her with such tender affection that it was almost too easy for her to imagine that he loved her too.

  While she knew nothing could come of it, not with his mind set on revenge, at the same time she couldn’t deny how extraordinarily contented she’d felt. She even laughed when he’d reached the window and then turned back to cross the room to her, in order to kiss her again and tell her that there was something he wanted to discuss with her later this morning.

  She agreed, knowing with certainty that he would ask her to become his mistress. Even though their arrangement would only be for a time, she would accept. If she had mere days to love him, she would cherish every single one of them.

  At breakfast, she felt ravenous but couldn’t manage a single bite. Her stomach was too fluttery as her eager gaze kept darting toward the door, waiting for a glimpse of him.

  He never came. Too soon, her aunt had their things packed, prepared to get an early start on their long journey to Berkshire.

  Merribeth didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye or giving Bane her address. She hoped he would call on her. Then, as luck would have it, he descended the stairs, just as she’d decided to leave a note for him.

  His gaze collided with hers, never disconnecting for a single step. It was impossible to conceal her joy at the sight of him. Her heart fluttered with gentle tugs, as if theirs were tied together with invisible thread. Had she breathed at all?

  He looked handsome in his slate blue coat and buff riding breeches, with his Hessians polished to a regal shine—which was far different from their usual scuffed state, as he spent most of his time at the stables. He even wore a gleaming silver pendant in the folds of his cravat, as if he’d dressed for a very special purpose.

  The thread tugged harder on her heart as her mind filled with anticipation. Did he plan on asking her to become his mistress now, before she left?

  His gaze dipped lower for an instant and then returned to hers. A grin slowly lifted the corners of his mouth. It was only then that she noticed she’d pressed her hand against her heart. If she weren’t blushing already, she was now, and then even more when he lifted his hand and pressed it to his own heart, as if he were similarly affected.

  “Good morning, Miss Wakefield,” he said softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Your blush is particularly enchanting this morning.”

  She smiled and this time did not conceal the gap behind her fingertips. She doubted she ever would again. “I have no idea what you mean, Lord Knightswold.”

  “What a delight,” Eve said, suddenly appearing from the direction of the alcove beneath the stairs. “Just the people I’d longed to see.”

  Their hostess appeared to be in very high spirits. However, something about her smile sent a frisson of warning through Merribeth. The only other times she’d seen Eve’s face take on such a look of triumph was when she’d been plotting.

  She came forward and took Merribeth by the hand. “You were not thinking of leaving without saying good-bye, were you?”

  In the same moment, Sophie reappeared in the doorway, after having directed the placement of their trunks to the driver. “Of course not,” her aunt answered. “You knew I’d wanted to get an early start. I was just about to seek you out and give you our thanks for our lovely diversion. The party was positively splendid and quite successful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Eve smiled in that peculiar way that unsettled Merribeth. “Come into the parlor for a moment. I have something of great importance to discuss with you, and it cannot wait until our next visit.”

  Merribeth looked to Bane as Eve pulled her along. His set features did not put her at ease. “Auntie, surely nothing can be so important as to delay them.”

  “Never fear. I want you to be part of this discussion as well.” Though the words were spoken as a request, they sounded far more like a demand.

  Even Sophie wore a worried frown when Eve closed the parlor doors. “What’s this?”

  Eve gave a flippant gesture, as if this was nothing of consequence. “You know how much I enjoy to gamble. So I just had to tell you of my latest conquest.”

  “Of course, but surely another time would be more appropriate.” Sophie looked to the clock on the mantle. “After all, I don’t see what this has to do with—”

  “With you?” Eve finished for Sophie. “Not you directly, no. Mostly the wager involves Bane and I, wouldn’t you say, dear nephew?”

  “A wager which I lost and you won, so let’s leave it at that,” Bane said, his voice low and ominous. “You have everything you want now. There can be nothing else.”

  He’d lost another wager? This was news to Merribeth. Curious, she looked at him, wondering what it could be this time. Though she expected it to be something as trivial as before, when he’d confessed to losing a bet to keep his friends.

  “Oh, but that isn’t quite true.” Eve placed her arm over Merribeth’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug before she moved to the center of the room. “The only one among us who’s lost something monumental is our dear Miss Wakefield.”

  In an instant, Merribeth went cold. Her lips parted. Surely Eve can’t be referring to . . . to . . . last night. Her gaze flew to Bane for reassurance.

  His casual air was absent. There was no quick smile. No easy flirtation. Instead, he was hard and closed off, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “Eve. Let. It. Go. You’ve won. There’s nothing more to say.”

  A wager. Eve won. The words were starting to sink in but slowly, like the thaw after a harsh winter.

  “Not to worry. She already knows how much revenge means to you. How it’s the driving force behind everything you do.” Eve lifted her hand and tapped her finger against her lips. “Hmm . . . I just wonder if she realizes her part. I mean, once you found out Clairmore was the name of the solicitor responsible for all those dirty deeds of your grandfather’s—”

  Merribeth gasped. William’s father? No.

  “I’m surprised you managed to wait an entire week before you made an example of her. I’m sure the young Mr. Clairmore will be devastated once he discovers the truth. You with your gypsy blood and all, tainting what’s his. And speaking of blood, my maid made an interesting discovery just a moment ago. Imagine my surprise when—”

  “I cut myself before I left the stables last night,” Bane interrupted. “I was too exhausted to tend it. Bitters bandaged me this morning.”

  Merribeth felt so cold. Everything—every single, life-altering moment—had all been about revenge?

  Eve tsked. “How very surprising, Bane. You’re not usually so careless.” She tilted her head and toyed with the blood red stones she wore in each ear. “In the future, you should probably take note of the order in which a woman keeps her jewelry trays when you’re searching for clues to complete your revenge.”

  Merribeth kept her gaze on Bane, trying to understand, hoping to see that Eve was wrong.

  He stared at his aunt, fury igniting the silver depths of his gaze. “This isn’t the place to discuss the matter,” he growled.

  But his response confirmed the terrible accusation at his feet. For Merribeth, every last hope she possessed died. She’d sacrificed everything for one precious moment with him, only to realize that she meant nothing to him. Nothing more than a means to an end. Nothing more than a tool for his revenge.

  Worse than losing the chance of spending any kind of future with him, certain or otherwise, her heart and soul were just ripped from her body. They fell into a great void, tearing away from the fibers that had once held them within her, plucking free of each vein like broken thre
ads.

  Sophie crossed the room to Eve and slapped her across the cheek. Hard enough to leave a red mark in its wake. “You are despicable. I thought you’d changed.”

  “We can never change who we really are,” Eve spat, clutching her cheek. A bright sort of madness lit her gaze. “Scholar that you are, you should have known better. You should have questioned why I’d taken such an interest in helping your niece have her Seasons.”

  “I took you at your word, that you’d wanted to make amends.” Sophie’s voice went quiet and broke at the end. “Now, I see you’d planned this all along.”

  Eve didn’t deny it. “Since I first learned Mr. Clairmore’s name.”

  Merribeth’s hand went to her throat, sure that her heart had stopped beating. There was no answering thump of her pulse. Her fingers were like icicles. Her head spun in a dizzying circle. The plush Persian carpet at her feet seemed to stretch before her, elongating the room to where Bane stood. She felt her knees buckle. Sophie cried out in alarm. But it wasn’t her aunt’s arms she fell into. It was Bane’s.

  He lifted her, his face a convincing mask of concern.

  She tried to push him away, but she lacked strength. “You never wanted anyone to love you. I see that now. I was a fool.”

  “You’re wrong,” she heard him say, but whatever words might have followed, died away as she slipped into blackness.

  Bane took Merribeth and escorted Sophie into the carriage, wanting them free of the spectacle and out of harm’s way. Or at least, out of further harm.

  He laid Merribeth on the seat, her head resting on her aunt’s lap. She was breathing steadily as if asleep, yet it was a nightmare, not peaceful slumber, that had claimed her.

  Pain like he’d never known burned inside his chest, wrenching his heart into tight, brittle pieces. He wished he knew what to say, if there were words enough to make this better. But there weren’t. No words could heal what he’d done to her. This was his fault. He’d brought this upon her.