Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (17 page)

They neared a sidewall, and he paused at a paneled door.  With a mischievous grin, he arched a brow.  “Trust me?”

“Certainly not.”  If her eyes had not betrayed her fear, she was positive her voice had underscored her trepidation.

“Wise woman.”  He chuckled, pushed open the panel, and handed her over the threshold.

The small study was a cozy room illuminated by moonlight filtering in from the doors opened to the terrace.  Deserted but for the two of them, the chamber was cool, unlike the stifling warmth of the crowded ballroom.

Before she could protest, Trevor leaned against the closed door, hauled her against him, and took possession of her mouth, plundering her flesh as would a starving man who had just found sustenance.  For several minutes, he held her tight, while his other hand skimmed her back before coming to rest on her bottom.

Ignoring the warning bells in her head, Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck and held his lips to hers.  Scorching heat poured through her veins, fire burned in her loins, and she melted into him.  It was so lovely to taste her captain again.  After a few heated, groping, desperately quiet minutes, his frenetic intensity eased.  Trevor’s caresses became more relaxed, almost tender.  Finally, he lifted his head.  When their gazes met, she gasped in surprise.

Visible in his stare was the same raw hunger ravaging her senses.

But why should he be thus affected?  Was it possible?  Could it be that he wanted her?  Perplexed by his reaction to their scandalous dalliance, she uttered the first thing that came to mind to break the uncomfortable silence.

“You kissed me.”

One day soon she was going to have to sit down and pen a series of suitable rejoinders that would keep her from appearing a complete idiot in similar instances.

“I could not help myself.”  Trevor grinned.  “I have wanted to do that ever since we returned to London.”

Caroline blinked.  “You wanted to kiss me?”

“Aye.”  His grin widened into a boyish smile.  “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve missed me?”  Bloody hell, she sounded interested and bit her tongue.

“Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you keep repeating what I say?”

“I do not know.”  She shrugged.  “Perhaps I am distracted.”

“Then allow me to distract you further.”  Trevor bent his head and again set his mouth to hers.

A soupçon of alarm swirled about her, nipped at her nerves, shivered over her skin, but Caroline was lost amid a tidal wave of pleasure.

His words of desire echoed in her ears--until the refrain mutated into unhinged mirth.  Taunting.  Mocking.

Her eyes flew open, and Caroline froze.  She pulled back, and his arms loosened about her waist.

“What is it, darling?”

“Darling?”  She vented a self-deprecating sound.  “Why do you speak to me thus?  You are no gentleman to feign an attachment we both know you do not harbor.”

“I beg your pardon.”  Even in the dimness of the room, his shock was palpable.

“You do not want me.  You never wanted me.”  She wrestled from his embrace.  “I was nothing more than a convenient means to an end.”

“What are you talking about?”  Trevor reached for her.  “We are going to be married.”

“Only because you are being forced to repair the damage to my reputation.”  Caroline retreated.  “I know I am not the sort of woman a man desires.”

“You think I do not want you?”  He lunged, caught her by the wrist, and pressed her hand to a firm bulge in his trousers.  “Does that feel like I do not want you?”  In an illicit rhythm, he rubbed her palm over his erection.  “Do you remember holding this part of me inside you?”

Wicked images flooded her mind, ensnared her senses.  Naked bodies sliding, pumping, grinding.  A chorus of masculine groans and feminine sighs played a sensual accompaniment.  The study seemed suddenly hot, and she could not breathe.

“Let me go.”  Caroline struggled to wrench free, but his iron grip imprisoned her.

“Do you think of me at night when you go to bed?” he asked, his voice husky.

“No,” she cried, but it was a lie.

In her dreams, Trevor came to her without fail.  In the realm of make-believe, she relived everything he had done to her aboard the
Hera
.  But in her fantasies, his seduction was always preceded by a pledge of everlasting love, and sometimes she woke to find a slick wetness where their bodies had come together.  Surrendering just enough to trace his turgid length with her fingers, she gave herself to the passion welling in her chest.  To her surprise, Trevor let go her wrist and allowed her to stroke him at will.

“I think of you every night,” he said on a groan.  “I taste your honey lips on mine.”

Was it possible?  Could he be telling the truth?

“I imagine your warm, soft body beneath me, taking my flesh deep within yours, again and again, until you cry in release.”

Dare she hope?

“I want you, Caroline.”

Out of nowhere, her brother’s words revisited her.

He thought you a whore
.

The resultant heartbreak chilled her to the bone.

“No.”  She withdrew her hand as though she had been scalded.  “You wanted Dalton’s mistress.  That is not the same as wanting me.”

#

Confused and painfully aroused, Trevor did not pursue his fiancée as she fled the study via the terrace.  Moments later, his fist connected with the oak-paneled door, the pain in his knuckles a welcome respite from the ache in his trousers.  When he managed to compose himself, he returned to the ballroom in search of his intended.  He did not have far to look.

Caroline had taken refuge amid her lifelong friends.

Though none gave any indication they were aware of her tremulous state, he reminded himself they were her family--not his.  If she hinted at their quarrel, though he doubted she would, he knew to whom they would ally.  Alone and outnumbered, Trevor headed for the card room and a bottle of brandy.

#

In what was becoming a frustrating routine, Trevor trudged up the entrance stairs to Elliott House.  He had been seeking a private audience with his fiancée for three days and had yet to have any success.  It did not take a genius to surmise the little darling was avoiding him, a tactic that was driving him to the edge of insanity.  With renewed determination, he pounded the oak panels.  When the granite-faced butler opened the door, Trevor shoved his way inside.

“I wish to see Caroline, and I am not leaving until I do.”

“Her ladyship is out, sir.”  The manservant appeared terminally bored.  “If you wish to leave a card, I shall convey your regard.”

“Like bloody hell.”  Trevor strode to the opening of the drawing room.  “Caroline!”  He shouted at the ceiling.  “I am not leaving until you come out!”  Tapping an impatient beat with his booted foot, he put his hands on his hips and waited for a sign of his exasperating future wife.  Seconds passed with nary a hint of his intended.  When next they met, he was going to heat her posterior for such insolence.  Lashing out with an arm, he emitted a primitive growl and stomped back into the foyer.  “Caroline, I swear on our firstborn, I will remain at this very spot until you face me.”

“What on earth is going on?”  The duchess appeared at the landing and navigated the grand staircase.  “Lord Lockwood?  Are you trying to bring the whole house down about you?”

“Your Grace.”  Trevor bowed, and then stood upright, arms folded.  “I demand to see Caroline.”

She waved to the butler, who made a fast exit.  “I am afraid that is not possible.”

“You refuse my request?”

“I do not.”  His soon-to-be-mother-in-law smiled.  “The simple fact is my daughter is not here.  She is, at present, lunching with the Douglas sisters.”

“Oh.”  It was as if someone had knocked the wind from his sails.  Trevor stared at the marble floor, a wave of defeat weighed heavy on his shoulders.  “I give up.”

The duchess neared.  “Perhaps I can be of service?”

After placing a chaste kiss on her proffered hand, he contemplated the estimable noblewoman.  She was a nurturing parent, which in light of his formative years defied logic.  Never had he seen a mother so devoted to her child.  His own had abandoned him for her lover, while his father had forsaken Trevor for comfort in a bottle.  If there were anyone he could rely on to help him, that person would be Her Grace.

With a dip of her chin, the duchess seemed to sense his quandary.  “Will you join me for tea, Lord Lockwood?”

“It would be an honor, Your Grace,” he said before he realized he had spoken.

As he followed Caroline’s mother into the drawing room, Trevor felt as though he had just cast off without a map and compass.  For him, asking anyone for help was a cold swim in unfamiliar territory.

“May I offer you a refreshment, Lord Lockwood?”  She settled on a sofa and lifted a silver teapot from a matching service.

Trevor shook his head.  He opened his mouth, rethought his words, and resumed his repetitive stride.  Finally, he whirled around.  “Why does Caroline think herself unattractive?”

“Well--”

“She is beautiful.  Stunning.  Yet she believes herself unappealing.”  He held his arms wide.  “I ask you why?”

“Perhaps because--”

“It is too ridiculous.  I have never found a woman half so pleasing to the eye.”  Trevor huffed a breath in frustration.  “And she calls herself undesirable.  How can that be?”

“Lord Lockwood.”  She appeared to be staving off laughter.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“I give you leave to address me as Sarah, and please be seated.  It is quite difficult to hold a conversation with someone who will not stand still.”  She retrieved a square of shortbread from a plate.  “I feel as though I am attempting to speak with a racehorse.”

“My apologies.”  Trevor plopped himself into an overstuffed chair, placed his elbows on his knees, and cradled his chin in his hands.  “Help me to understand Caroline.”  He narrowed his stare.  “Surely this low opinion of herself stems from something more than the incident with the Darwiths?”

“Much as it pains me to admit it, I must bear some of the responsibility for her situation.”  Sarah brought her cup to her mouth, but paused.  An expression of sadness marred her elegant features.  “Caroline was her father’s daughter.  Charles doted on her, raising her in much the same fashion as Blake.  I may have indulged their unusual relationship to the point of neglect.”

He inclined his head and arched a brow.  “How so?”

“When Caroline went to finishing school, she had a terrible time adjusting.  She was a bit of a Long Meg, more athletic than graceful.  Her marks for deportment were always her worst.”  Sarah pursed her lips.  “The business with the Darwiths was the final straw, I am afraid.”

Sitting up straight, he slapped a hand to his thigh.  “How can I make it better?”

To his delight, and unimaginable good fortune, Her Grace of Rylan proved to be a veritable treasure trove of information concerning his difficult bride-to-be.  As he would were he studying for exams at Oxford, Trevor made a mental list and checked it twice while simultaneously devising a counterattack.

By the time his affable hostess walked him into the foyer, Trevor was energized with a renewed sense of purpose.  “Words cannot adequately express my gratitude for your assistance, Your Grace.  I fear I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

“Think nothing of it.”  Sarah patted his cheek, and he struggled to suppress a flinch.  “Make my daughter happy, and you may consider the debt paid in full.”

“I--that is to say--”  Unaccustomed to such innocent displays of affection, he searched for a suitable rejoinder.

“Dear man.”  She stumped him again with a squeeze of his hand.  “Why do we not look on this afternoon as a simple meeting of like minds?”

“As you wish.”  He bowed.

The familiar granite-faced butler opened the door, Trevor turned to the threshold--and stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh, yes
.

#

The sun blinded Caroline as she emerged from the Rylan town carriage, and she shielded her eyes from the bright rays.  Settling her skirts, she climbed the stairs to her home.  Her stomach was a lead ball of jumbled nerves as memories of the previous night assailed her emotions.  How she managed to partake of lunch with Cara and Sabrina without reliving the meal soon afterward would be one of life’s great mysteries.  On a none-too-graceful yawn, she pondered a nap.  Shadows enveloped her as she entered the foyer.

And walked straight into Trevor’s arms.

Her gasp of surprise passed from her lips to his.  As he suckled her flesh, he thrust his tongue in an obvious rhythm, bold and illicit.  Wild and inciting.  She responded in kind, engaging her captain in a sensuous duel.  Wool tickled her palms as she clutched his arms through his coat, and the rock hard muscle beneath her hands tensed in an enthralling display of masculine physique.

It seemed ages since Trevor last kissed her.

But as Caroline found her passionate pace, he released her.  Without a greeting or goodbye, Trevor left her standing in the foyer.  Eyes wide and mouth agape, she touched her fingertips to her lips and exhaled.  “Good heavens.”

Slowly, she turned and barely stifled a scream.

At the foot of the grand staircase, her mother stood sporting an expression Caroline was not certain she trusted.  “How was your engagement, my dear?”

“It was lovely.”  The annoying warmth of a blush permeated her cheeks, and she wished she could sever her head.  “Um, that was Lord Lockwood.”

The smile her mother adopted gave Caroline gooseflesh.

“Indeed, it was.”

#

It was the fashionable hour on the same day, and Caroline strolled with her mother, nodding acknowledgements to other notables.  Her mind was a mass of confusion, and on several occasions, she had to be prompted to offer a greeting or risk cutting an important member of the
ton
.  Her body seemed a foreign entity, because she never knew it was possible to be hot and cold at once.

Damn Trevor and his kiss.

If she closed her eyes, she could taste his lips on hers, sense his tongue rousing hers, and thrill to the fiery heat of his embrace.