Captured by a Gentleman (Regency Unlaced 6) (12 page)

Ranulf gulped air into his starved lungs as he withdrew, his chest heaving, cock still pulsing, his balls drawn up tight. “I believe you may be the death of me and save my attempted murderer the trouble,” he groaned hoarsely as he straightened his clothing.

“I sincerely hope not.” Darcy turned, hand cupping his cheek. “I should not want you to die, Ranulf.” She kissed him long and deeply.

Ranulf’s arms moved about her as he returned the passion of that kiss. His cock, despite having just ejaculated, was once again twitching with interest as he ended the kiss to rest his forehead against Darcy’s. “I turn into a wild animal in my need to possess you,” he muttered self-disgustedly.

“And are we not all animals at heart, driven by a primal need, despite our attempt at sophistication?” Her fingers gently caressed the side of his face.

There was truth in what Darcy said. Human beings were, after all, merely another species of animal. One that had taken on the mantle of civilization, yes, but beneath it all, still animals, controlled by whatever need drove them at that moment in time.

For him, it was possessing Darcy.

Ranulf had never desired a woman the way he did Darcy. Never been so desperate to claim a woman that he had literally bent her over a chair and taken her from behind.

He had never wanted to take Millicent in this wild, rough fashion. Their lovemaking had been conservative, to say the least.

Lovemaking with Darcy was untamed. Fierce. Was becoming as
necessary
to Ranulf as breathing.

He liked hearing those little catches in her throat, her groans, as her passion rose. To watch as her nipples became engorged in arousal. To taste the plumpness of her wet nether lips. To feel the pulsing of her clitoris against his tongue or fingers when she reached her peak.

He sighed. “Nevertheless, I have behaved far less than the gentleman you had every right to expect.” He shook his head. “You are right. You are not Millicent. You are not anyone but Darcy.”

It was on the tip of Darcy’s tongue to tell Ranulf how much she loved him. How much she had always loved him. But a single apology did not change the fact Ranulf had been deeply hurt, and by the woman he should have been able to trust the most. Her very own cousin. Darcy confessing her love for him would possibly only alienate him, when that was the last thing she wished for.

They had time, she and Ranulf, to get to know each other better on their long journey into Scotland.

She laughed softly, happiness welling up inside her at the glimmer of hope of Ranulf becoming more the man she had seen a year ago. Not that she wished him to become completely reformed. She liked that his lovemaking was fierce and demanding. Found it exciting in the extreme. She believed Ranulf did too.

Ranulf was gratified to see Darcy smiling. “I will help you to tidy up before we have our luncheon.” He stepped away before moving to the jug of water the landlord had delivered along with their food and wine, dampening one of the napkins in the water before moving back to Darcy’s side.

He knelt down in front of her to clean the evidence of his release gently from between her thighs, his shame deepening as he saw the mess he had made of the front of her gown and the back of the chair.

Darcy’s hand moved to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. “I wanted what happened as much as you did.”

Ranulf glanced up at her. He had felt slightly ashamed of his actions, but as he continued to look at Darcy he felt as if he were coming out of a fog. One that had possessed and held him in its grip since the night, eight months ago, when he’d learned of Millicent’s betrayal.

He realized now that fog had colored his life gray. Had driven him to succeed in the world of finance, sometimes to the point of ruthlessness in regard to others.

A ruthlessness and disregard he had carried into his private life too. Those women he had bedded, he had used them and then discarded them without so much as a second thought.

In the same way he had shrugged off the love and concern of his cousin and his wife.

He had been angry for so long, with and to everyone, he had forgotten how to behave any other way.

As for his treatment of Darcy… He saw the truth of it now. She was a young and defenseless woman running away from the unwanted attentions of a man old enough to be her father. A man who was her uncle, if only by marriage, and a man she should have been able to trust with her life.

Ranulf regretted so much of his behavior these past eight months, and most especially these past few days with Darcy.

But when it came to Sugdon, he felt no qualms, no hesitation, in being the deliverer of the retribution the older man deserved. That retribution would now come sooner rather than later. It was the least Ranulf owed Darcy.

He owed her much more than that, of course. Most of all, an apology for having treated her so disgracefully.

“Ranulf…?” she questioned uncertainly at his continued silence.

He shook off thoughts of Sugdon. The memories of Millicent. And the eight months of self-pity he had allowed himself to wallow in. He had the opportunity, with and for Darcy, to make up for some of that unacceptable behavior.

“Your feelings on the matter are no excuse for the way I have behaved,” he answered as he straightened her gown before rising to his feet. “You will please accept my sincere apology for having behaved so disgracefully toward you.”

She eyed him quizzically. “None of this would have happened if I had not hidden in your carriage.”

“You were given no choice. I, however, had plenty of choices open to me. I chose the least honorable of them,” he acknowledged heavily. “For that, I most certainly must apologize.”

“But—”

“Please, Darcy, I am asking for your forgiveness.”

Darcy searched the bleakness of his face—cool green eyes, pale cheeks, his mouth a thin line above a set jaw. “Very well, as it is so important to you.”

“It is.”

She swallowed. “What happens now?”

“We will eat our luncheon.” He pulled back a chair for her to sit down.

A different chair, Darcy noted with a blush, to the one he had bent her over a few minutes ago.

She glanced at Ranulf beneath her lashes once he was seated beside her at the table. A change had come over him these past few minutes. For the better, she believed. A return to something of the Ranulf of a year ago. But it was also a change which meant she no longer knew quite how she should behave toward him.

Or how he intended behaving toward her in future…

She learned soon enough.

As soon as they had finished their luncheon, Ranulf went outside to the carriage, returning a few minutes later, carrying her traveling bag. After which he had left her in the privacy of the parlor, on the excuse he wished to speak to Graves and with the suggestion she use his absence to put on her chemise and drawers and wear a clean gown.

An indication their intimacy was at an end?

Darcy’s disappointment was palpable.

There was worse to come, she soon discovered.

“Why is Graves turning the carriage around?” Darcy stared out the carriage window in alarm.

“We are returning to London.”

“Why?”

His jaw was tight. “I intend to visit Lord Sugdon—”

“No!” She recoiled in her seat, hot tears stinging her eyes. “You cannot take me back to Lord Sugdon. I will do whatever you ask. Only please”—she threw herself on the carriage floor in front of him—“please, Ranulf, do not return me to that man’s house.”

Ranulf’s frown was pained. “Get up, Darcy.” He snapped his discomfort with her emotional display. “Better,” he rasped as she returned to her seat across the carriage, although her expression was still anxious. “At no time did I say I would return you to that bast—to Sugdon.”

“Then why do you intend to visit him?”

“Because I now realize Sugdon needs to be confronted and not run away from. To have the threat of his behavior be exposed, if necessary,” he added grimly.

“Why, if you do not intend returning me to him?”

“Is that fear the only reason you have responded to my lovemaking?” Acid bile rose in the back of Ranulf’s throat. If that was so, then it made him no better than Sugdon.

“I… I responded because… I would rather not answer that question.” She lowered her lashes, hiding her emotions from him.

That Darcy felt the need to hide her emotions from him was answer enough.

Ranulf’s shame deepened. As did his self-disgust that he should have allowed his disenchantment with Millicent to cause him to treat Darcy so badly. But there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, to wipe out the wrong he had done her. He had apologized, but it was not enough. It would never be enough.

“I will never return you to Sugdon. Please remain where you are, Darcy,” he requested as her expression brightened and she looked about to launch herself across the carriage at him for a second time. “It is obvious to me if you continue to run away, then you will have given up all hopes of ever returning to Society.”

“I care nothing for that—”

“Then I must be the one to care on your behalf. It is the only life you have ever known,” he continued persuasively. “The life to which you were born. It will not do for you to attempt to live a life of obscurity,” he chided. “You are Miss Darcy Ambridge, daughter of a lord, granddaughter of a duke. Once we are back in London, you will remain with me at Winterbourne House as my ward until such time as I can make suitable arrangements for you.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed heavily. “I have no idea as yet. But under no circumstances will I ever allow you to be returned to Cecil Sugdon’s guardianship.”

It was the best that Darcy could hope for, in the circumstances. It also meant she would remain with Ranulf for a little longer. Again, the best she could hope for.

She was aware her refusal to answer Ranulf’s question as to why she had participated in their lovemaking might lead to misunderstanding on his part.

But what else could she do but refuse to answer?

She certainly could not admit to Ranulf the reason she had craved their lovemaking as much as he had.

Because she was in love with him.

Chapter 10

Their return journey into Bedfordshire was made without mishap. Without further conversation either. Certainly without a repeat of any of the caresses and pleasure of this morning.

Instead, Ranulf laid his head back against the carriage seat, and to all intents and purposes, fell asleep.

Leaving Darcy alone with her thoughts.

Which were far from pleasant.

Ranulf seemed certain he could keep her from Cecil Sugdon’s clutches, but what if that did not prove to be the case? The law might be on Lord Sugdon’s side when it came to her guardianship and insist she be returned to his house immediately, and not a thing Ranulf could do to stop it.

Having experienced the ecstasy of Ranulf’s lovemaking, the very thought of suffering the elderly Lord Sugdon’s lecherous advances was even more unpalatable to Darcy than it had been before. If it came to that, she would have no choice but to run away again. Where to, she had no idea—

“Your thoughts are so loud, they are keeping me awake.”

She glanced across the carriage to see that Ranulf was indeed awake and currently watching her between narrowed lids. “In that case, what was I thinking?” she challenged.

“Of your future.”

She gave a snort. “That was far too easy a question for you to answer.”

Ranulf stretched before sitting up straighter in his seat. “Did your grandparents, the Duke and Duchess of Stowmont, have a son to inherit the title?”

“Their only children were my mother and Aunt Sugdon.”

“Do you know the gentleman who is currently the Duke of Stowmont?”

“Sebastian Falkner?” She shook her head. “He is a second cousin of my mother’s, but I have never met him. I have seen him out and about in Society, of course, since he inherited the title from my grandfather last year.”

“And?”

“He is possibly a year or two older than you. Tall, dark, and very handsome, despite being a rather aloof gentleman. He does not look as if he would suffer fools gladly.” She repressed a shiver as she pictured the aristocratically haughty gentleman who was now the Duke of Stowmont. He was indeed very handsome, but also cold and haughty.

“You are not a fool.”

Darcy frowned. “Why the interest in him?”

Ranulf shrugged. “Because it seems to me the Duke of Stowmont would have been a more likely candidate to become your guardian after your mother and father died than Sugdon.”

She frowned. “It never occurred to me… Any more than it probably occurred to the duke. Uncle Sugdon announced after my parents’ funeral that he was my guardian and took me back to his house to live with him. There was never a question of anyone else stepping forward.”

“Perhaps because the current duke does not know of your circumstances?”

It was a possibility, of course, considering the Falkners had never been a close family. But Darcy’s impression of Sebastian Falkner as being a cold, unfriendly gentleman did not endear him to her as a future guardian, any more than Lord Sugdon.

What was apparent from this conversation, however, was that Ranulf intended to place her into
someone’s
guardianship, other than his own.

That he wished to be free of her as soon as it could be arranged.

Not that Darcy had expected anything else. She must, after all, be something of a liability to a single gentleman. Most especially one like Ranulf, who had made it clear he never intended to marry again.

Nonetheless, it hurt to know of Ranulf’s urgency to dispatch responsibility for her.

“What happened to your parents’ personal property and money after their deaths?”

She glanced at Ranulf. “The property was sold, and my uncle told me he had put all monies in trust for me, as part of my dowry.”

“He told you?”

She grimaced. “I have not seen a penny of it as an allowance, for clothes or other necessities, these past four months.”

“Hmm, I wonder…”

“Ranulf…?” she prompted irritably when he made no effort to finish that sentence.