Elizabeth Thornton (22 page)

Then she saw the pulse beating at his throat, and the muscle that tensed in his cheek. But more than anything, it was his eyes that betrayed him, dark as midnight and helpless with wanting her.

“Hugh,” she softly cajoled, “this is what I want. Don’t be noble, not for my sake. Just this one night, please?”

He closed his eyes against her powerful appeal, then he heard the rustle of taffeta, and the air in his lungs froze. When he opened his eyes, she was standing before him as naked as the day she was born. The taffeta counterpane was pooled at her feet.

He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but he couldn’t help looking: rose-crested breasts, beautifully molded curves and valleys, and the flower of her femininity veiled in a golden shadow.

Through clenched teeth, he got out, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

When he caught hold of her, he meant only to push her aside and storm from the room. But the feel of her warm, satiny skin savaged his noble intentions. He could no longer think with his brain; he was thinking with his body, and that appalled him.

Abbie had twined her arms around his neck, and her soft womanly contours were pressed against his hard length, enticing him, tempting, driving him wild to have her. Then she pleaded with him in that throaty, husky voice of hers, and his control snapped. With a groan of surrender, he crushed her mouth beneath his. One step took him to the bed. Without severing the kiss, he lowered her to the mattress and rolled with her.

He was starving for her taste and touch. The ache inside him was so fierce, his whole body trembled. He couldn’t resist fisting his fingers in her glorious hair and holding her steady as he plundered her mouth the way he’d dreamed of, his tongue thrusting in a wild intimate dance with hers. But there were other treasures he wanted to plunder. He was fascinated with the tips of her breasts, and how each rosy nipple puckered and darkened when he laved it with his tongue and lips. The slope of her shoulders, the swell of her hips, every feminine hill and valley lured him on.

She’d never known that passion on this scale existed. Everything that had seemed so difficult was natural. She reveled in the intimacy he demanded, reveled in the pleasure that he could bring to her with the brush of his hands and lips. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel his bare skin against her bare skin. She wanted to touch him the way he touched her. She wanted him to take off all his clothes. She reached for the buttons on his coat.

The only candle in the room flared, sputtered, and went out. The fire still burned, and though it took the edge off the darkness, the room was dappled in long, flickering shadows. When Hugh rose from the bed, Abbie could just make out his silhouette.

Her senses had never been so acute. She heard the soft
rustle of each garment as he gradually disrobed; she heard the thud of his boots as he dropped them on the floor; she knew when he was naked; the heat from his body seemed to pass into hers; he smelled like a dark windswept night on the lonely moors.

Then he was on her, bearing her back against the pillows. She felt the smile on his lips when he kissed her. She knew he was different, but it was so subtle, she couldn’t puzzle it out. Then she stopped trying to puzzle it out as her fingertips took the impression of his sleek, hard flesh and coiled muscles. She rubbed herself against him and smiled when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

She had no conception of the control he exercised for her sake. She was lost in each new sensation as his tongue, lips, and hands bathed her in pleasure. Passion and love seemed to flow together. Her mind, soul, and senses were filled with him.
Hugh
, she thought.
Hugh
.

He didn’t try to hurry her, and if he had, she wouldn’t have allowed it. She was making memories to take with her for the rest of her life. She wanted to know every inch of him intimately. But it wasn’t all taking on her part. She wanted to give as much as he gave her.

Remember me
, she said silently as she stroked his shoulders, his ribs, his flanks. This was the truth. This was reality. This was the Abbie she wanted him to remember. Nothing else mattered, if only he would remember that she’d loved him. And with her shy, intimate touches, she drove him to the brink.

He knelt between her legs and positioned himself to take her. “Forgive me, Abbie,” he whispered hoarsely, knowing he was about to give pain when what he wanted was to bring pleasure.

With the first thrust, a cry of pain tore from her throat. He gritted his teeth and held perfectly still, giving
her body time to adjust to his. When he finally lifted his head, he saw that her eyes were filmed with tears.

“Abbie,” he began, and froze when she moved sinuously beneath him.

Eyes locked and held, then glazed over as he began to move in slow, easy lunges. At his hoarsely muttered command, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and followed the rhythm he set.

She couldn’t stop moaning, couldn’t stop writhing. Something was terribly wrong. She was going to shatter; she knew she was going to shatter. She wanted him to stop.

Hugh locked his body to hers. He spoke soothingly, calming her fears. It was all right. This was how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She had to trust him, trust him, trust him.…

When he changed the tempo of his rhythm, sensation raged to a sudden, white hot fever. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only feel. He rained hard, fast kisses on every exposed inch of skin. A rainbow exploded behind her eyes, and she went hurtling into infinity.

Hugh watched her face as the pleasure took her, and a fierce possessiveness surged through him. She was his, and he would never give her up. Then rational thought dissolved as he surrendered himself to the driving beat of his own body.

They lay for a long time afterward, entwined in each other’s arms. When he could move again, Hugh rolled to his side and looked down at Abbie. Her eyes were closed. He frowned when his fingers touched her cheek and came away wet.

“Tears?” he said. “What’s wrong, Abbie?”

Her eyelashes fluttered and she said something low
and inaudible, but she did not waken. Hugh wrapped her in his arms and drew the bedclothes up to cover them both.

He brooded on those tears for a long time. She’d given herself to him freely and generously without counting the cost. Now, when it was too late, she was counting the cost.

He tried shaking her awake. When her lashes lifted, he said, “We have a lot of talking to do, Abbie. Do you understand? This isn’t the end of it. This is only the beginning.”

“I understand.” She sighed and curled into him.

She hadn’t heard a word he said. He smoothed back her hair and kissed her brow. Maybe it was better this way. This wasn’t the way he wanted to ask her to marry him. This time, she was going to have everything just as she’d always dreamed.

He kissed her on the lips. “I may even go down on my bended knee,” he whispered humorously. “But don’t expect me to beg. That would be asking too much.”

She seemed to rally. “I love you, Hugh,” she whispered.

No one had ever said those words to him. He didn’t know what those words meant, but on Abbie’s lips, they were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He had no words to give her back. All he knew was that she came first with him.

He adjusted his body to hers and nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.

H
ugh rose as the first rays of dawn began to chase the darkness away. He dressed himself, lit a candle, and looked down at Abbie. He’d always wondered how she would look after they’d made love and now he had his answer. Her lips were turned up in a smile.
Sleeping Beauty
.

He couldn’t resist. He bent over her and awakened her with a kiss.

She came awake instantly and hauled herself up. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hugh soothed. “Everything is fine. I wanted to talk to you …” he couldn’t resist another kiss, “since we didn’t do much talking last night.”

Her alarm subsided. “Is it time to go?”

“Not for you. Tom will stay here to protect you while Harper and I go to your bank for the book. I’ll need a note, signed by you, giving me permission to act as your agent.”

“My bank?”

“Isn’t that where you told me you’d hidden the book?”

“I … yes, of course.”

It was all coming back to her. She must remain in
hiding, Hugh had said, until he got the book and traded it for amnesty for her and George. She couldn’t hide with relatives or friends or at his house because that’s where the authorities would look first. She would be safer here. And once the bargain was made with Langley, she would be immune from prosecution. Then he would come for her.

And she wouldn’t be here.

“Langley will want to question you,” Hugh said, “but I’ll be with you, and you’ll have nothing to fear.”

His gentle tone and the tender look in his eyes were more than she could bear. “I’ll get you the key to my trunk,” she said quickly.

The last few minutes were taken up with mundane affairs: writing the note that Hugh asked for; his instructions on what she should do in his absence. Then Harper was there, and there were no more precious moments to share.

When Hugh took her in his arms and kissed her, she clung to him. “Don’t look so sad,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. Just be patient.”

“Hugh!” she called frantically as he opened the door.

“What is it, Abbie?”

Her heart was in her eyes. She shrugged helplessly. “I love you.”

A slow, slow smile softened his lips. “When I come for you we’ll talk, when this business is over, I mean, and we can think about ourselves. All right?”

She nodded.

“And remember what I told you. Don’t go anywhere without Tom.”

She locked the door behind him as she’d been told, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space. Everything had worked out for the best, she told herself. She
could deal with Tom more easily than she could deal with Hugh and Harper.

Don’t think about the future. Take it one step at a time
.

It was a long time before she came to herself and a long time after that before she had worked out how she was going to get away from Tom and make for Dover to get the book.

Hugh stared dully at the items he’d spread out on a table in the bank’s strong room, the items he’d removed from Abbie’s trunk. There were letters and legal documents, concert programs and sketches of various places she’d visited, and other odds and ends, but there were no books, not one. He’d examined the trunk inch by inch, unwilling to accept that he’d been duped, but there were no secret compartments. This was all there was.

Harper looked at Hugh’s face and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He knew his employer well enough to recognize the seething resentment beneath the blank facade. Harper was well aware that things looked black for Miss Vayle, but he wasn’t ready to accept the evidence against her. In spite of his deeply ingrained prejudice against females, he’d come to respect this young woman. She was plucky. They’d made a good team these last few days. She was one of them and deserved a chance to explain herself.

There was more to it than that, though, for Mr. Templar. He didn’t see Miss Vayle as a good little soldier. He saw her as a woman, his woman, and that always twisted a man’s brain in knots.

Weighing each word carefully, Harper said, “It’s possible that her brother lied to her and that he’s hid the
book someplace else. Maybe Miss Vayle misunderstood. Maybe the book is in another trunk, in another bank.”

“She didn’t misunderstand,” said Hugh. He suddenly moved, sending papers and sketches fluttering to the floor with a vicious swipe of his hand, then he turned his back on Harper and stared blindly through the bars of the small basement window.

After a long silence, Harper said, “But it don’t make no sense. She knows we’ll find her out. What does she hope to gain?”

“Money,” said Hugh bitterly. “How should I know? Who can tell how a woman’s mind works?”

“You think she’ll sell the book to our enemies?” demanded Harper incredulously.

“Not for herself, but for her brother. George has no fortune of his own. It could be he’s doing this for the money, and somehow he’s drawn Abbie into his deadly game. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“But she must know that she won’t get away with it, that we’ll catch up to them both sooner or later.”

“Maybe she thinks that once she gets rid of the book, there won’t be any evidence against her.”

“That don’t sound like Miss Vayle.”

Hugh’s voice was like ice. “I hardly think you’re an expert on women, Harper, and Miss Vayle least of all. Now get the horses. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. And be careful. It’s possible this is a trap.”

“A trap? That Miss Vayle has arranged?”

“It’s possible.”

Harper shot Hugh a look that would have soured cream, but his only comment was short, sharp, and unintelligible. He rapped on the door, and when the clerk came to open it, he left with one quick, troubled glance at Hugh.

When Hugh heard the clerk turn the key, locking him in, he forced himself to take a long steadying breath. He had to fight the urge to do something violent—kick in the door, throw Abbie’s trunk against the wall and smash it to smithereens. He stood there, a muscle working furiously in his jaw, as he battled the loss of control. Finally, he got hold of himself and he picked up the papers that were strewn on the floor. When everything was back in the trunk, he shut the lid gently and used the key Abbie had given him to lock it.

I love you
, she’d said when he left her that morning.
I love you
.

He was ashamed now of his own feelings. He’d been exalted and humbled at the same time. As he and Harper had ridden into town, he’d relived every moment of the seduction scene Abbie had engineered, and he’d been filled with determination to prove himself worthy of such an extraordinary woman. She had asked nothing for herself. She’d given herself freely and generously. She was a woman in a million.