A Lady's Revenge (12 page)

The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air. It pulled at the tension coursing through his shoulders until they relaxed by slow degrees. As he reclined on the chaise, feeling the warmth left behind by Cora’s body, he clasped his hands behind his head and began plotting ways to make her laugh again.

As the porcelain-and-ormolu clock in the drawing room chimed for the eighth time, Guy strode through the kitchen door and circled around the dew-dusted herb garden with its diamond-shaped design full of rosemary, parsley, peppermint, and an assortment of other greenery he couldn’t identify. Before long, he found the narrow path that would take him to the small lake nestled on the west side of his property.

For the last two mornings, Cora had hidden in her chamber until Dinks served her luncheon meal, and then she would disappear with her guards in tow. He was certain she had adopted this careful ploy because of their encounter in the library. The unmistakable evidence of his desire had at first flustered her before it reawakened the ever-present terror that refused to release her from its grasp.

His anger fired at the implication evident in her reaction. Valère not only damaged her body, but he had crippled her soul, an injury that could take decades to mend. Guy would devote whatever time he had left in this life—and the next—to her recovery. After all she had sacrificed, she now deserved a bit of happiness. They both did.

Once he had detected Cora’s current preference for solitude, he had decided to allow her this small respite from his company. However, on the rare occasions their paths crossed, he would take the opportunity to kiss her hand, cradle her elbow, or stand too close. His decision might prove a difficult setback in his goal to unearth his former friend, but he was willing to risk it, for he needed a reprieve, as well.

The feel of her satiny skin beneath his palm and the weight of her appreciative gaze roaming over his body was an incredible, erotic combination. He couldn’t remember ever being so swollen with need for such an extended period of time. Not until the moon had begun its westerly descent had his cock ceased its demand for release. And every time he thought about Cora in those provocative silk
pai
jamahs
, the torment would begin all over again.

As it did now.
Bloody
hell.

Guy’s ruminations came to an abrupt halt when he noticed a man lounging against a tree, watching something in the distance. The cold heat of danger swept through his body, heightening his awareness of his surroundings. He reached inside his coat to retrieve his gun and crept a few steps to the left for a better look.

The man’s profile soon came into view.
Jack.
For some reason, the realization didn’t lessen the tension thrumming through his muscles. He peered beyond Jack’s shoulder to see what held the footman’s attention so thoroughly that he hadn’t yet registered Guy’s presence.

When he located Cora across the clearing, dressed in manly garments again, his hand tightened around his pistol.

Bloody
damn
hell.

Fire pounded through his veins, and his gaze flicked to the footman, who still hadn’t detected the danger lurking at his back. Had Guy been one of Valère’s men, the handsome devil would be dead right now.

Rather than scanning his surroundings, Jack’s attention centered on his mistress. Intent and highly disrespectful.

“Enjoying the view?” Guy asked.

The footman started, and he whipped around with his fists raised like a seasoned pugilist. When recognition dawned, the Irishman’s familiar cocky grin surfaced.

“Couldn’t call myself a man if I didn’t, m’lord.” The younger man straightened when he noticed Guy did not share his amusement. “Ay, now, it ain’t like that, you know. If it weren’t for Miss Cora, me and my sis, Grace, would be on the streets. I owe her my life. She’s a fine-looking woman, I admit, but I got no designs on her person.”

Guy’s muscles remained taut, ready. “That’s good to hear.”

Jack’s gaze dropped to the gun in Guy’s hand then nervously flicked up to Guy’s face. “You got no need for that, m’lord. I swear it.”

Guy removed his finger from the trigger. “Watch your back as well as your mistress’s,” he warned the footman. “The enemy rarely attacks head-on.”

“Yes, sir.” The footman’s expression turned sheepish. “Did you come to relieve one of us, m’lord?”

“Yes.” He scanned the wooded edge of the clearing. “Where’s your partner?”

Jack jerked his thumb to the left. “Old Bingham is crouched over there, pretending like he’s asleep.” He snorted. “About as likely as me becoming the king of England, it is.”

“I’ll take over from here. Go find out what supplies Cook needs from town and keep your ear to the ground for any mention of strangers in the area.”

“Will do, m’lord.”

Guy waited for the underbrush to swallow the footman’s back before stepping to the edge of the tree line. It took him several minutes to shake off the disquieting feelings brought on by Jack’s casual attitude toward his duties. He decided to have a follow-up discussion with the footman when he returned from his errand. They could ill afford such mistakes with the Frenchman at large. Valère’s keen intellect would pick up on the slightest misstep.

Putting Jack’s odd behavior aside, he ignored the luscious green glade enveloping the small crescent-shaped lake and searched for the woman who had held her long-time servant transfixed. Opposite him, beneath the swaying arms of a giant willow. Cora performed a series of slow, fluid maneuvers. With her body poised in a semicrouch, her arms and legs wove in mesmerizing circles.

The artistry of her movements left him spellbound. Her technique was much more improved, controlled and precise, yet fluid and graceful. She wore a fitted teal tunic over a pair of white silk
pai
jamahs
—an outfit that shouldn’t be worn outside the bedchamber, in his opinion—and her feet were bare. Again.

When he had asked his men about her activities, they told him she walked, she read, and she stared a lot. They said nothing about this.

It was their mention of her staring at some unknown object for long periods of time that brought him to the lake today. He didn’t want her reliving the past, terrorizing her mind over and over. If she must revisit the memories in order to put them behind her, then he wanted to be there to help her through the pain of remembrance.

Following the line of trees, he circled around until he stood ten feet from her. Focused on her maneuvers, she gave no indication of being aware of his existence. That would soon change. Thankfully, he wore a pair of old boots that he easily toed off—his stockings, coat, waistcoat, and cravat followed suit.

Many years had passed since he had last practiced the ancient art of Tai Chi with the deBeau clan. Cora’s father, the late Lord Danforth, was first introduced to the stylized martial art during one of his frequent trips to the Orient. Many years ago, Cora had found her father practicing the meditative movements and cajoled him into teaching her. And so he did. Soon after, Guy and her brother had joined them.

His friend’s animated sister had always charmed Guy, but he had had little call to spend much time with her until then. Their Tai Chi lessons had changed all of that. For one hour every day, she had focused that incredible mind of hers inward. She became stronger mentally and physically. At the tender age of eight, she had a better understanding of herself than few achieved with decades of training.

He now recalled meeting Somerton during one of their sessions. At the time, he thought nothing of the hawk-like way in which the earl studied them or of the quiet conversations between Somerton and Cora’s father as they followed their pupils’ progress. Were the two plotting even then to bring the trio into the Nexus?

The disturbing thought curdled his stomach.

Emptying his mind of such troubling musings, he watched Cora for a moment and then slid into place beside her, matching her movements with rusty precision. She didn’t miss a step, accepting his company as if she had expected him.

The calming motions were thought to enhance one’s physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. As Guy’s hands pushed forward from his chest, he knew this to be true. The movements came to him easily, even after so long an absence.

Their budding connection resurfaced, and his body responded to her nearness, despite his meditative state. He set his jaw and continued to match her form to form until she finally brought the session to a close.

Their gazes caught, and held; neither was as relaxed as they should have been after such an exercise. He tried to keep his approach of quick, seemingly meaningless touches in the forefront of his thoughts and failed. His mind warred with the demands of his body. He used guilt and shame and honor to repress his forbidden impulses. He didn’t want to ruin the tranquility of the moment, nor could he overlook the welcome gleaming in her eyes.

His cock bucked against its restraints, and sweat gathered at the base of his neck. He shot a glance toward the tree trunk where Bingham had propped himself, only to find the space empty. Either the old tar had faded into the trees to give them more privacy, or he felt his mistress was in capable hands and went back to the house. Either way, they were alone.

Sweat trickled down his spine.

Guy closed the distance between them, making no move to touch her. Beautiful green eyes rimmed in piercing blue skimmed his face and paused on his lips. There, they lingered for an unbearable moment, heating his already simmering blood.

Had she ever been intimate with a man that didn’t require the pursuit of information? Did her body know what it meant to be truly loved? Another more insidious question surfaced, one dredged up from the primitive depths of his soul. Had she ever experienced a full and shuddering release?

He bent forward until their warm breaths mingled and was gratified when she held her ground. “If you’re going to run away, now would be the time.”

“Is that a threat?” she whispered, her words pelting softly against his cheek.

His nose nuzzled against hers, drinking in her salty feminine scent. “A friendly warning.” If she retreated, he would be damn disappointed. He hadn’t wanted to give her an excuse to withdraw, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of her vulnerable state.

Her breath hitched, and he was certain she would step back, breaking the sensual haze enveloping them. His own breathing suspended, waiting for her recoil. But she remained in place, her chest rising in quick succession. Guy pressed on, skimming his lips across hers.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She tipped her head back—an invitation no mortal man could refuse, not even one who was burdened with altruistic purpose. He nipped at her lips, coaxing them to accept a deeper kiss. When they finally parted, his tongue slipped inside the moist, warm center they guarded with such concentrated care.

***

The area between Cora’s legs pulsed and clenched and pricked with each stroke of Guy’s wicked tongue. A long-buried groan roared its way up her throat and into his mouth where he matched it with one of his own. Her fingers stabbed through his hair, holding him in place while she ravaged his lips with her desperation. She wanted to consume his very essence. She wanted to take all he would give before realization of whom he kissed struck.

Even now, he could be battling with his conscience—
she’s too injured; she’s my best friend’s sister; she’s slept with the enemy
. A pang of regret and fear seared her chest. She deepened the kiss and fumbled with the leather strip holding his gorgeous hair. When she felt the thong give, she plunged her hands into the thick curtain of dark strands and flattened her body against his.

If she could overwhelm his senses, maybe he would push away the unpleasant questions until his carnal needs were fulfilled. Which, in turn, would satisfy hers. She deepened the kiss, determined to conquer the weakness in her mind that made her shy away from a man’s touch.

After a moment, she drew back far enough to see his uncivilized appearance and to show him with her eyes how much she needed this. His full lips glistened from their passionate kiss, and his nostrils flared with each inhalation. His eyes, always dark and unreadable, glowed black as night.

He cupped her face in his large hands. “I’ve waited so long,” he murmured. His confession confused her, but he didn’t give her long to consider his words. “So beautiful. So much more than I deserve.” His mouth covered hers, and a wild desperation overtook them both. This melding of lips was deeper, more consuming. More everything.

This he could not mask behind everyday courtesies like escorting her to dinner, handing her a flower, or helping her down the stairs. This was raw and intimate. This must be passion.

Her hands shook with unfettered need as they descended over his powerful arms, trembling arms that were locked in place at his side.

She frowned. When had he stopped holding her face?

After days of enduring his furtive touches and aching closeness, Cora was confused by his inaction, until she realized he waited for her invitation.

Warmth pierced her heart.

“Hold me.” She spoke the beseeching words against his lips while her fingers coaxed his hands open.

“I don’t want to frighten you, Cora.
This
goes beyond reassuring touches.”

Her mind began its familiar descent into hell. She brushed her fingers over his cheek.
Conquer
your
fear.
“I understand.”

“Do you, Cora?” he asked tenderly. “Your mind is already turning to a dark place. I can see it in your beautiful, troubled eyes. What if our desire takes us beyond the point of my control? Will you still crave my touch then?”

The barrier she had erected to mentally survive his lovemaking crumbled in the wake of his warning. She was so focused on obtaining her own pleasure that she hadn’t stopped to think about the emotional torture she was inflicting on Guy. How could she be so consumed with her own wants and not notice the awful effect all this had on him?

Shame coated her thoughts, blurring her vision.

When his hands cupped her jaw this time, they were shaking. “Cora, sweet. Do not fret.”

“How could I be so stupid?” she asked on a choked whisper.