Jacquie D'Alessandro (33 page)

After his hands wrought their limb-weakening magic upon her shoulders for several moments, he whispered against her cheek, “Raise your arms and wrap them around my neck.”

Languid from his ministrations, she did as he bade, linking her upraised hands together at his nape. With his lips bestowing lingering kisses along her temple, his hands slowly smoothed down the undersides of her arms, slipped under the water to continue over her breasts. Each of his fingers teased over her nipples, quickening her breath. Before she could recover, he continued downward, over her rib cage and abdomen, then along her inner thighs. When he reached her knees, he reversed direction and slowly stroked his way back up her body to her elbows.

“Do you like that?” His question tickled by her ear.

“Yes.” Her response came out in a long sigh of pleasure.

He repeated the long, drugging stroke, kindling an inferno in her that quickly threatened to consume her from the inside out. With each passing of his hands over her body, she experienced an insistent, heavy pull between her thighs. Moans she could not suppress accompanied her every exhale. How was it possible that his touch both soothed and aroused her unbearably at the same time?
Each time his fingers brushed over her nipples, she lifted her breasts, craving more of his touch. When his palms meandered along her thighs, she spread her legs wider, increasingly desperate for him to put out this relentless fire he’d ignited. Turning her head, she pressed her lips against his throat, squirming against him when he lingered over her breasts and teased her aching nipples between his fingers.

Philip sucked in a sharp breath as she moved against him, the curve of her buttocks rubbing against his erection. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure, fighting to remain in control, but the feel of her all but vibrating beneath his hands, the sight of her taut nipples seeking his touch, her straining to splay her legs wider, offering him the sensual wonders hidden by the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, the erotic scent of feminine arousal rising from her skin, her increasingly uninhibited response, all conspired to rob him of his command over himself.

“Philip…”

His name, whispered against his neck in a smoky, need-filled moan, stripped him of another layer of restraint. Shifting slightly to have better access to her lips, his mouth came down on hers in a hot, demanding, open-mouthed kiss. While one hand continued to play over her breasts, his other hand wandered downward, his fingers cruising over her belly and those entrancing curls, then slid lower, between her thighs, to glide over her sleek, swollen flesh. She gasped against his mouth, and he deepened their kiss, his tongue rubbing against hers in a blatant imitation of the act his body desperately ached to share with her.

He slowly caressed her folds, then eased a finger inside her. A long groan vibrated in her throat. Unlocking her hands at the back of his neck, she ran her palms down his
thighs. She broke off their kiss, and whispered against his throat, “Touch you…want to touch you.”

Slipping his finger from her velvety heat, he grasped her waist and helped her turn over. Rising to her knees between his spread legs, she settled her backside on her heels. A groan escaped him at the sight of her, azure eyes glittering, dark hair mussed, the lower part wet and clinging to her shoulders, color high, lips swollen and reddened from their kisses, full breasts topped with coral-tipped, aroused nipples, water streaming down her body. Before he could regain the wits just looking at her had robbed, she said, “Put your hands behind your head.”

Their eyes met, and his heart thudded at her unmistakable meaning. She meant to stroke him just as he’d stroked her. Lifting his arms, he locked his fingers at his nape. And prayed for strength.

Starting at his elbows, she slowly dragged her hands down his arms and over his chest, igniting a trail of flame under his skin. Watching her touching him, her eyes bright with avid curiosity, wonder, and desire, he knew he’d never seen a more arousing sight. Her hands skimmed over his hips, then down his thighs to his knees, where she changed direction and started her upward stroke.

“Do you like that, Philip?”

“God, yes.”

By gritting his teeth and clenching his fingers until they turned numb, he endured another slow pass of her hands along his body. On her third downward journey, her fingertips brushed over the head of his erection. He sucked in a sharp breath, then groaned.

Clearly encouraged by his response, she touched him again, this time trailing her fingers down the length of his rigid flesh. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, engulfed in raw sensations as her hands caressed and
stroked him. When she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and gently squeezed him, a growl of need ripped from him, and he could no longer deny the demands of his body. He needed her, wanted her.
Now
.

Lifting his head, he reached for her, commanding in a raw voice, “Straddle me.”

Without hesitation, she rested her hands on his shoulders, then shifted her legs to the outside of his thighs. Grasping her hips, he settled her over the tip of his erection and gently urged her downward until her maidenhead impeded their progress. Their gazes locked, he simultaneously surged up and pressed her down, and buried himself deep within her silky heat.

Her eyes widened and his heart clenched. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head slowly, and he forced himself to remain perfectly still, to give her a chance to become accustomed to the feel of him, while he absorbed the exquisite sensation of her tight, velvety heat wrapped around him. Nearly a minute passed before she experimentally moved against him, dragging a groan from him.

Releasing her hips, he skimmed his hands up to her breasts, determined to allow her to set the pace. Watching every nuance of her wonder-filled arousal, he filled his hands with her breasts, while she slowly rocked against him. The effort to hold off his rapidly approaching orgasm beaded sweat on his forehead. Her tempo increased, and the last shreds of his control evaporated, leaving him lost, mindless with need. Gripping her hips, he thrust upward, hard and fast. Her eyes slid closed, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. The instant he felt her tighten around him, he let himself go, his own release pounding through him.

When his tremors finally subsided, he opened his eyes. Her eyes were still closed, and her head hung limply for
ward, as if too heavy for her neck to bear. Heart still thudding against his ribs, he said the one word he could manage.

“Meredith.”

She slowly lifted her head. Her eyelids fluttered open, and their gazes locked. A long, silent look passed between them. He wanted to say something, but damn it, words were beyond him. And even if they weren’t, what words could possibly describe what they’d just shared?

“I had no idea…” she finally said quietly. “Thank you. For showing me how beautiful that act can be.”

The area around his heart went hollow, then filled with such love for her, he ached with it. “Then I must thank you as well, because I never knew it could be that beautiful.”

She said nothing for several heartbeats, then a smile pulled up one corner of her lips, and a hint of mischief flickered in her eyes. “Do you think it’s possible that it could get even more beautiful?”

Smiling, he fisted his hand in her hair and dragged her mouth down to his. “A very intriguing hypothesis, one which I believe requires immediate experimentation,” he said, punctuating each word with a nipping kiss. “But as the water is growing cool, I suggest we remand to the comfort of my bed to conduct our research.”

They shared one final lush kiss, after which he helped her to rise. Then he stood and helped her step over the edge of the tub, onto the wooden stool, and down to the carpet. Following her out, he snatched up the strigil. He skimmed the instrument down each of her arms and legs, removing the water from her skin, then wrapped her in a thick towel, warmed from its spot near the fire. He was about to apply the strigil to his own arm when she asked, “May I?”

He set the instrument in her outstretched hand, then enjoyed her gentle ministrations. When she finished, he shrugged into his robe, then led her to stand in front of the
fire, where he used the other warmed towel to dry her hair. When he finished, he stood in front of her, sifting his fingers through the long, dark, still slightly damp strands. She smiled up at him, a smile so filled with love and happiness, she dazzled him. “Would you mind terribly if I told you again that I love you?” she asked.

He frowned and pretended to give the question great thought. “Well, I suppose if you feel that you
must
…”

“Oh, I must.” Rising up on her toes, she looped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Philip.”

Pulling her tighter against him, he said, “I love you, too.”

Something flickered in her eyes, prompting him to ask, “What is it?”

“I was just thinking, do you think perhaps we might have…made a baby?”

The question stilled him. An image of her, large with their child, flashed in his mind. “I don’t know. But I
do
know the thought of you bearing our child…” His voice trailed off and he lowered his head to touch his forehead to hers. “The mere thought leaves me speechless with joy.”

She leaned back in the circle of his arms, her eyes dancing. “I can picture our son now. Strong and intelligent, with your kind eyes behind his spectacles, and your thick, dark hair.”

“And I can picture our daughter now,” he countered with a grin, “with your vivid coloring, determination, and generous spirit.” Taking her hand, he led her toward the bed. “What sort of wedding would you like? Something grand in St. Paul’s?”

“Actually, I’d prefer something simple. Perhaps here, in your home.”

“Then that is precisely what we shall have. I will arrange for a special license as soon as—”

His words cut off as she stumbled. Her hand slipped
from his, and before he could catch her, she fell forward, landing on her knees, and breaking her fall with her palms. He dropped to his knees beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her to sit back on her heels.

“Are you all right?”

“Y-yes. I must have tripped on something.”

He glanced around, but no stray objects littered the floor, nor were there any bumps in the carpet. He was about to ask her if she felt able to stand when she groaned and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed by her sudden pallor.

She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a sharp breath. “My head. It hurts. Severely.”

He stared at her, a kernel of uneasiness knotting his stomach. A fall…then a headache…The words from the Stone of Tears reverberated through his mind.

Bloody hell, what were the missing words to the curse? Could it be ‘Once your intended has been
loved
?’ His uneasiness turned into dawning, stunned horror. She’d fallen. And now was suffering a terrible headache. By proposing to Meredith, telling her he loved her, then making love to her, had he brought the wrath of the curse upon
her? If not, then the fall and the headache immediately following were odd coincidences—and by God, he didn’t believe in coincidence. Especially when his gut tightened in this foreboding way.

She groaned again and everything inside him froze. No, this was no odd coincidence. Stark fear iced his veins at the horrible realization that he’d done exactly that—brought the wrath of the curse upon her—and had thereby sealed her fate.

Unless he found a way to break the curse—

She would die in two days.

Philip knelt beside
Meredith, who pressed her hands against her forehead and moaned. He struggled to draw a breath and silence the agonized
Noooooo!
ricocheting through his brain. Her falling, the headache, the curse…this could not be happening. Not when they’d just found each other. Not when their future, only seconds ago, had bloomed so bright upon the horizon.

Bludgeoning back the talons of fear clawing at him, he hoisted her into his arms and carried her to his bed, where he yanked back the burgundy counterpane, then settled her gently upon the mattress. Her complexion was waxy pale, her features bunched into a pain-filled grimace.

“I’ve never had a headache such as this,” she whispered. “It feels as if the inside of my head is on fire and about to explode.

Suffer the pain of hell’s headache.
Philip tucked the covers around her, then sat next to her for a moment, holding her hand, and praying to every heavenly force he’d ever heard of to intervene. To save her. To help him find the missing piece of stone.
Please, please, don’t take her away from me
.

Leaning over, he brushed his lips against her brow. “I’m going to leave you for a moment to prepare a draught that will relieve the pain.”

He crossed to his wardrobe and pulled out a worn leather satchel. Digging through the contents, he extracted a small bottle of one of Bakari’s mysterious cures. Philip didn’t know exactly what was in the bottle, but he knew from experience that it was effective in relieving headaches. He quickly added several drops to a tumbler of fresh water, then returned to her.

“Drink this,” he said, helping her to sit up. After she swallowed the contents, he settled her back on the pillow.

She opened her eyes, and a wobbly half smile pulled up one corner of her lips. “I’m sorry, Philip. I didn’t mean to cast such a pall on our research.”

“Meredith, I’m afraid this is not an ordinary headache you’re suffering.”

“What do you mean?”

“The series of events this morning. We professed love for each other. I proposed, you accepted. We made love. Then you fell down, and now you have a headache.”

Understanding, along with confusion, dawned in her eyes. “The curse. But we’re not married.”

“The last two lines read,
Once your intended has been lo
and
Nothing can save her from.
I believe the ‘lo’ must be from ‘loved.’ You are my intended. I told you I love you. I made love to you. I’m afraid that by doing so, I unleashed the curse upon you.”

Her eyes widened with a combination of fright and disbelief. “Which means that in two days I’m going to…
die
?”

His stomach cramped into a painful knot at the question, and he pressed her cold hands between his. “It means that I only have two days to find the missing piece of stone and discover how to break the curse.”

“And if you cannot?”

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence, both knowing the frightening answer, one he simply could
not verbalize. “I will not fail in this, Meredith. Your life depends upon my success, and nothing is more precious to me than your life.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but a flicker of determination fired in her eyes. “Well, it’s rather precious to me as well, especially now that my future includes you, and I’ve no intention of taking this lying down. What can I do to help?”

“You can remain here, in this bed.”

“I’ll do no such thing! You cannot expect me to just lie about when—”

“Meredith.” He cupped her pale face between his hands. “I need you to stay here—
for now,
” he emphasized, to forestall the argument he knew was about to burst from her, “so that I know you are safe. Andrew, Bakari, and Edward will help me search through the remaining crates at the warehouse and those on the
Sea Raven
.”

“Philip, I can assist with the search. You’ll need as many hands as possible. And as for me being safe, I’d feel safer with you than anywhere else.”

He blew out a long breath and dragged his hands down his face. She did have a point—he’d know she was safe if she was within his sight. And God knows he didn’t want to spend one precious minute away from her. “Do you feel well enough?”

“Yes. My head still hurts, but not as badly.”

Reaching out, he brushed his fingertips over her pale cheek, acutely feeling the need to say what he was feeling, but not certain how. “I’m so sorry, Meredith. I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t.” She laid her hand over his and turned her face to press a kiss into his palm. “We’ll fix this, Philip. Together. You’ll see.”

A lump of emotion clogged his throat. Instead of turning on him in anger for bringing the curse’s wrath upon
her, or succumbing to panic and fear, she’d turned to him with love. And determination. In spite of his own panic and fear, he could give her nothing less. “Together,” he repeated. “I won’t allow any harm to come to you, Meredith. I give you my word.”

She smiled. “That is all I need.”

His heart turned over at the trust and confidence in her eyes. He could only pray it wasn’t misplaced. “All right. Let’s get dressed. There’s no time to waste.”

The hack was still approximately a half mile from the warehouse when Philip inhaled and frowned. “I smell smoke.”

Meredith nodded. “Yes, I do, too.”

They exchanged a look, and Philip could tell that she felt the same sense of foreboding that crept through him. But several minutes later his fears were put to rest when they arrived at the warehouse. Whatever was burning, it wasn’t the warehouse.

As there was no sign of his carriage, he said to the hackney, “Wait for us here.” He assisted Meredith from the vehicle, then they quickly entered the warehouse and made their way through the labyrinth of rows to Philip’s cache of crates. The area was empty, but a note was affixed to the outside of one of the crates. Philip scanned the brief missive:

The fact that these crates had failed to yield the missing piece of stone felt like a noose tightening around his neck. And he had less than forty-eight hours to solve the puzzle
before he stepped off the scaffold. Taking Meredith’s hand, he led her toward the exit. When they opened the door, the stench of acrid smoke, stronger than before, filled his nostrils. The hackney jerked his thumb toward a dark plume of smoke rising in the air.

“Looks to be comin’ from the docks, it does,” the man said, his voice grave.

Again, that tingle of foreboding slithered down Philip’s spine. “Take us there, posthaste,” he instructed, handing Meredith into the interior.

He clasped her hand tightly as the hack moved swiftly along the narrow streets. “How is the headache?”

“Better.”

“But it still hurts?”

She regarded him through serious eyes. “Yes.”

She was clearly trying to put on a brave front, but shadows of fear lurked in her eyes. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say. Only a fortnight ago, he hadn’t even known this woman existed. Now she held his heart in her hands. And he held her future, her life, in his. Her very life depended on his ability to solve the curse.

Unable to keep from touching her, he moved from the seat opposite to sit beside her. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her onto his lap. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut, he held her tightly against him, absorbing the feel of her in his arms, her warm breath touching his neck, her soft hair against his jaw.
I will not lose her. I
cannot
lose her.

A deafening boom rent the air, and the vehicle jerked to a halt. Meredith sat upright, her eyes round. “What was that?”

Philip’s stomach dropped. “It sounded like gunpowder exploding.” Setting Meredith on the seat, he jumped from the carriage. Thick plumes of black smoke billowed in the
distance behind the building directly in front of them. The horse whinnied loudly, and Philip heard the driver trying to soothe the animal.

“Won’t be able to take ye any farther, sir,” the driver said. “Me horse got spooked by that noise, and she’s caught wind of the fire wot’s burning. ’Fraid she won’t budge.”

“We’ll walk the rest of the way,” Meredith said from directly behind him.

Unease prickling along his nerve endings, Philip jerked his head in a nod. Reaching into his pocket, he tossed several coins up to the driver. Then, tightly clasping hands, they quickly skirted around the building.

The instant they turned the corner, Philip skidded to a halt. Flames and smoke engulfed a burning ship. The vessel drifted in the middle of the river, obviously untied from the dock so as not to allow the fire to spread to the wharf and beyond. Men ran frantically about on the dock, hoisting buckets of water to put out small fires erupting from burning embers landing on the surrounding docks.

Meredith clutched his arm. “How awful.”

“Yes.” But Philip suspected she hadn’t yet realized just how awful. For the ship that was ablaze was the
Sea Raven
.

Squinting through the puffs of black smoke, he saw a familiar figure. “Come. I see Andrew.”

Keeping close together, they made their way across the cobblestones. When they reached the dock, Philip touched Andrew on the shoulder. His friend turned, nodded a greeting to Meredith, then looked at him with a grim expression.

“How did this happen?” Philip asked.

“I don’t know. After we finished cataloging the last crate at the warehouse, we came here. The ship was just being secured. There were people everywhere, and
Bakari, Edward, and I became separated. The ship somehow caught fire, then there was an explosion.”

“Gunpowder,” Philip murmured. “There were a dozen barrels on board.”

“Yes. I cannot fathom that the cargo traveled safely all the way from Egypt without mishap, only to be destroyed upon its arrival.”

“Was anyone injured?”

“Some minor burns, one crewman suffered a broken leg. But no fatalities, thank God. If the gunpowder had exploded sooner, before the crew was able to disembark, it would have been a different story.” Their eyes met. “Unfortunately, none of the cargo was saved. All the artifacts on board are lost.”

“Where are Edward and Bakari now?”

“I don’t know.” He made a vague, sweeping gesture with his hand. “Around somewhere, I’m sure.”

Philip felt a pressure on his arm. Turning, he met Meredith’s distressed-filled gaze. “Artifacts?” she whispered. “Dear God, was that ship the
Sea Raven
?”

“I’m afraid so.” His insides clenched at the fear and resignation that filled her eyes.

“So that’s it, then,” she said, her voice utterly devoid of expression. “There’s no hope of finding the missing piece of stone. Which means that in less than forty-eight hours I’m going to die.”

“What’s that you say, Miss Chilton-Grizedale?” Andrew asked in a perplexed voice. “What is she talking about, Philip?”

Before Philip could reply, Edward and Bakari joined them. Like Andrew, both men’s clothing bore black, sooty streaks. “Horrible tragedy,” Edward murmured, shaking his head. “Thank God no one was killed.” He turned to Andrew. “Where did you disappear to? I haven’t seen you since the moment we arrived at the docks.”

Andrew raised his brows. “I could say the same about you.”

“Many people, much confusion,” Bakari said. He then pointed toward the water. “Look.”

They all turned toward the ship, and for the next few minutes watched in silence as the burning
Sea Raven
slowly slipped beneath the surface, until it disappeared completely from sight.

“All that work, all those artifacts…” Edward shook his head, then clapped a sympathetic hand on Philip’s shoulder. “A terrible loss for you, Philip.”

“None of that matters. All that matters is finding a way to break the curse. Before it’s too late.” His gaze shifted between his three friends. “Meredith has been affected by the curse.”

“What do you mean?” asked Andrew, his voice sharp.

“I mean that the wrath of this bloody curse has befallen her.”

“But how?” Edward asked. “You did not marry her.”

“No, but I
asked
her to marry me. And moments after I did so, she fell down, then developed a painful headache.”

Andrew, Edward, and Bakari’s gazes all shifted to Meredith, their expressions ranging from pity to dread. Not one of them suggested that perhaps her fall and the onset of the headache were merely coincidence.

“What can we do to help?” Andrew asked quietly.

“I want you to escort Meredith back to my townhouse. See that she’s comfortable, and watch over her.” Philip gave Andrew a meaningful stare, and his friend nodded, knowing that ‘watch over her’ meant not to leave her side. He turned to Meredith. “Do you wish to stop at your own residence first?”

She shook her head. “Not now. I don’t want to alarm Charlotte and Albert. Of course, I shall need to see them…soon.”

He clasped her hands. “You will be able to see them every day, for years to come.” He turned to Bakari. “I’d like you to go to my father’s townhouse and keep an eye on him and Catherine. And Edward, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of making inquiries regarding the fire, and speak to the necessary authorities.”

“What are you going to do?” Meredith asked.

“I’m going to stop at the warehouse to look over the ledgers one last time. Perhaps something will inspire an idea. Then I’ll join you at my townhouse.”

With a nod and a promise to contact him later, Edward departed. Philip and Meredith followed Andrew and Bakari toward the waiting Greybourne carriage, several blocks away. After Andrew and Bakari rounded a corner, affording them a modicum of privacy, Philip stopped and pulled Meredith against him. Before she could utter a sound, he covered her mouth with his, in a hard, demanding kiss, filled with all the fear and desperation threatening to overwhelm him. She kissed him back with equal desperation, her fear palpable. Gentling the kiss, he cupped her face between his hands, then drew back to look at her.