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BOOK: Sylvia Day - [Georgian 02]
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Why pursue the connection?
A knock sounded behind him, then, “Lord Sedgewick has come to call.”
The irony almost made him laugh.
It took him a moment to collect himself, to lift his head from the glass and return to his desk. He nodded his readiness and waited for the viscount to enter.
“My lord,” he greeted dryly, refusing to rise.
Sedgewick’s lips whitened at the insult and then he sank into the seat Philip had recently vacated, crossing one ankle over to the opposite knee as if this were a social call.
“Do you have any information for me or not?” the viscount snapped. “You and Lady Winter were both gone a fortnight. Surely you learned something during that time.”
“You assume we were together.”
Sedgewick’s gaze narrowed. “You were not?”
“No.” Christopher smiled as the other man’s face reddened. “Why such haste?” he asked, taking a pinch of snuff from the box on his desk with deliberate leisure. “It has been years since the deaths. What are a few weeks more?”
“My schedule is none of your concern.”
Studying the peer with a trained eye, Christopher hummed softly. “You want something, a higher position within the agency, perhaps? And the length of time you have to acquire it grows short, yes?”
“What grows short is my patience. It is not one of my virtues.”
“Do you have any virtues?”
“More so than you.” Sedgewick rose. “A sennight, no more. Then back to Newgate you go, and I will find another to take up the task you seem not to be capable of.”
Christopher knew he could end this now. He could promise to deliver a witness who would implicate Maria. But the words would not come. “Good day, my lord,” he said instead, his nonchalance infuriating the foppish viscount, who then left the room in his profusion of lace and jewels.
A week. Christopher rolled his tense shoulders back and knew the time had come to make a decision. Shortly, the men he had assigned to investigate the girl named Amelia would return with their reports. Beth hopefully would have gleaned something interesting from her association with Welton. And the young man he had stationed in Maria’s house could be called back to share what he had learned.
Christopher had pockets of information to tap. It was not like him to delay the reception of news. But then he had not been acting like himself since the night he first had sex with Maria.
What hold did she have on him?
He was still asking himself that question when he handed the reins of his mount to her groomsman in front of her house. He took the short steps to her door with the heavy stride of a man walking to the gallows, and he was not at all surprised to be told that she was not at home.
Telling himself to go, to leave, Christopher still found himself saying, “I
am
coming in. The manner in which I do so, however, is entirely up to you.”
The grumbling butler stepped aside and Christopher took the stairs, anticipation warring with dread in a heady mix. He hoped for Quinn to appear and give him a fight. Though he was in poor physical condition, he didn’t care. Fisticuffs would leave him no room to think about Maria, which was all he wanted—to be free of his pining for her.
He reached the second floor and found a familiar face there, although it was not Quinn’s.
“How fare you?” he asked Tim, noting that his lackey was sporting a tidy queue and a Vandyke, the mass of his unruly beard gone.
“Well.”
Nodding his approval, Christopher said, “See that we are not disturbed.”
“Aye.”
Moving to Maria’s door, Christopher lifted his hand to knock, then thought better of it. Instead he turned the knob and entered her room without warning, pausing a step inside the threshold when he spied her standing before the window. Like all great sirens, she was
en déshabillé
, her lushly curved figure visible through the thin cotton chemise she wore. The sight of her tiny form framed by long, flowered and tasseled curtains made his throat nearly too tight to speak. Somehow, though, he was able to say, “Maria.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and he watched as she took a deep breath.
“Lock both doors,” she returned, without facing him, as if she had been expecting him. “Simon will return eventually, and I want this resolved before there are any interruptions.”
The air in the room was oppressive, filled with so many words left unsaid. Still, as Christopher turned the locks, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him, simply because he was in the same space as Maria.
He moved toward her but stopped a few feet away.
She finally turned to face him, revealing dark circles under her reddened eyes. A heavy mantle of weariness shrouded her slender shoulders. “I had hoped you would stay away.”
“I want to.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I want you more.”
Maria’s hand lifted to her heart. “We cannot have what we want. People who live as you and I do forfeit affairs of the heart.”
“Is your heart engaged?”
“You know the answer,” she said simply. There was nothing in her features or the depths of her eyes to give him any clue to her thoughts.
Christopher felt a drop of sweat glide down his temple. “That night I came to your room and we lay together . . .”
She turned back to the window. “A beautiful memory to treasure. Good-bye, Mr. St. John.” Her voice was devoid of emotion.
He stood unmoving. His mind told him to go, yet he could not make his limbs cooperate. He knew she was right, he knew it was in both of their best interests to walk away and resume the separate lives they had led before meeting. Instead, he found himself walking toward her, coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.
The moment he touched her, she began to shake. He was reminded of that first evening in the theater, when he had held her similarly. She had been cool and collected then. The vulnerable woman in his arms now had been brought to existence by his effect on her.
“Christopher . . .” The sadness in her voice was the end of him.
“Release me,” he said hoarsely, his nostrils buried in her fragrant hair. “Let me go.”
Instead she turned in his arms with a pained cry and kissed him deeply.
Enslaving him further.
Chapter 16
A
melia slipped through the forest filled with anticipation.
It was silly, perhaps, to be excited about a kiss that she planned rather than accepted in a moment of passion, but she enjoyed the idea anyway. She was also eager due to the missive in her pocket. She had stayed up far too late the night before, trying to find exactly the right words to write to her sister. In the end, she had chosen the short and direct route, telling Maria to contact Lord Ware to arrange a meeting.
The fence was directly ahead. After making certain that the guard was still far enough away to miss seeing her, she hurried toward it. She did not see the man hidden on the other side of a large tree. When a steely arm caught her and a large hand covered her mouth, she was terrified, her scream smothered by a warm palm.
“Hush,” Colin whispered, his hard body pinning hers to the trunk.
Her heart racing in her chest, Amelia beat at him with her fists, furious that he had given her such a fright.
“Stop it,” he ordered, pulling her away from the tree to shake her, his dark eyes boring into hers. “I’m sorry I scared you, but you left me no choice. You won’t see me, won’t talk to me—”
She ceased struggling when he pulled her into a tight embrace, the powerful length of his frame completely unfamiliar to her.
“I’m removing my hand. Hold your tongue or you’ll bring the guards over here.”
He released her, backing away from her quickly as if she were malodorous or something else similarly unpleasant. As for her, she immediately missed the scent of horses and hardworking male that clung to Colin.
Dappled sunlight kissed his black hair and handsome features. She hated that her stomach knotted at the sight and her heart hurt anew until it throbbed in her chest. Dressed in an oatmeal-colored sweater and brown breeches, he was all male. Dangerously so.
“I want to tell you I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly.
She glared.
He exhaled harshly and ran both hands through his hair. “She doesn’t mean anything.”
Amelia realized then that he was not apologizing for scaring the wits from her. “How lovely,” she said, unable to hide her bitterness. “I am so relieved to hear that what broke my heart meant nothing to you.”
He winced and held out his work-roughened hands. “Amelia. You don’t understand. You’re too young, too sheltered.”
“Yes, well, you found someone older and less sheltered to understand you.” She walked past him. “I found someone older who understands me. We are all happy, so—”
“What?”
His low, ominous tone startled her and she cried out when he caught her roughly. “Who?” His face was so tight, she was frightened again. “That boy by the stream?
Benny?
”
“Why do you care?” she threw at him. “You have
her
.”
“Is that why you’re dressed this way?” His heated gaze swept up and down her body. “Is that why you wear your hair up now? For
him
?”
Considering the occasion worthy of it, she had worn one of her prettiest dresses, a deep blue confection sprinkled with tiny embroidered red flowers. “Yes! He doesn’t see me as a child.”
“Because he is one! Have you kissed him? Has he touched you?”
“He is only a year younger than you.” Her chin lifted. “And he is an earl. A gentleman. He would not be caught behind a store making love to a girl.”
“It wasn’t making love,” Colin said furiously, holding her by the upper arms.
“It appeared that way to me.”
“Because you don’t know any better.” His fingers kneaded into her skin restlessly, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her, but couldn’t bear not to either.
“And I suppose you do?”
His jaw clenched in answer to her scorn.
Oh, that hurt! To know there was someone out there whom he loved. Her Colin.
“Why are we discussing this?” She attempted to wrench free, but to no avail. He held fast. She needed distance from him. She could not breathe when he touched her, could barely think. Only pain and deep sorrow penetrated her overwhelmed senses. “I forgot about you, Colin. I stayed out of your way. Why must you bother me again?”
He thrust one hand into the hair at her nape, pulling her closer. His chest labored against hers, doing odd things to her breasts, making them swell and ache. She ceased struggling, worried about how her body would react if she continued.
“I saw your face,” he said gruffly. “I hurt you. I never meant to hurt you.”
Tears filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly, determined to prevent them from falling.
“Amelia.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his voice carrying an aching note. “Don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”
“Release me, then. And keep your distance.” She swallowed hard. “Better yet, perhaps you could find a more prestigious position elsewhere. You are a hard worker—”
His other arm banded her waist. “You would send me away?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her hands fisted in his sweater. “Yes, I would.” Anything to avoid seeing him with another girl.
He nuzzled hard against her. “An earl . . . It must be Lord Ware. Damn him.”
“He is nice to me. He talks to me, smiles when he sees me. Today, he is going to give me my first kiss. And I’m—”
“No!” Colin pulled back, his irises swallowed by dilated pupils leaving deep black pools of torment. “He may have all the things that I never will, including you. But by God, he won’t take that from me.”
“What—?”
He took her mouth, stunning her so that she couldn’t move. Amelia could not understand what was happening, why he was acting this way, why he would approach her now, on
this
day, and kiss her as if he were starved for the taste of her.
His head twisted, his lips fitting more fully over hers, his thumbs pressing gently into the hinges of her jaw and urging her mouth to open. She shivered violently, awash in heated longing, afraid she was dreaming or had otherwise lost her mind. Her mouth opened, and a whimper escaped as his tongue, soft like wet velvet, slipped inside.
Frightened, she stopped breathing, then he murmured to her, her darling Colin, his fingertips brushing across her cheekbones in a soothing caress.
“Let me,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
Amelia lifted to her toes, surging into him, her hands sliding into his silken locks. Unschooled, she could only follow his lead, allowing him to eat at her mouth gently, her tongue tentatively touching his.
He moaned, a sound filled with hunger and need, his hands cupping the back of her head and angling her better. The connection became deeper, her response more fervent. Tingles swept across her skin in a wave of goose bumps. In the pit of her stomach a sense of urgency grew, of recklessness and flaring hope.
One of his hands slipped, caressing the length of her back before cupping her buttock and urging her up and into his body. As she felt the hard ridge of his arousal, a deep ache blossomed low inside her.
“Amelia . . . sweet.” His lips drifted across her damp face, kissing away her tears. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
But he kept kissing her and kissing her and rolling his hips into her.
“I love you,” she gasped. “I’ve loved you so long—”
He cut her off with his lips over hers, his passion escalating, his hands roaming all over her back and arms. When she couldn’t breathe, she tore her lips away.
“Tell me you love me,” she begged, her chest heaving. “You must. Oh God, Colin . . .” She rubbed her tear-streaked face against his. “You’ve been so cruel, so mean.”
“I can’t have you. You shouldn’t want me. We can’t—”
Colin thrust away from her with a vicious curse. “You are too young for me to touch you like this.
No.
Don’t say anything else, Amelia. I am a servant. I will always be a servant and you will always be a viscount’s daughter.”
Her arms wrapped around her middle, her entire body quaking as if she were cold instead of blistering hot. Her skin felt too tight, her lips swollen and throbbing. “But you do love me, don’t you?” she asked, her small voice shaky despite her efforts to be strong.
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Can you not grant me at least that much? If I cannot have you anyway, if you will never be mine, can’t you at least tell me that your heart belongs to me?”
He groaned. “I thought it was best if you hated me.” His head tilted up to the sky with his eyes squeezed shut. “I had hoped that if you did I would stop dreaming.”
“Dreaming of what?” She tossed aside caution and approached him, her fingers slipping beneath his sweater to caress the hard ridges of his abdomen.
He caught her wrist and glared down at her. “Don’t touch me.”
“Are they like my dreams?” she queried softly. “Where you kiss me as you did a moment ago and tell me you love me more than anything in the world?”
“No,” he growled. “They are not sweet and romantic and girlish. They are a man’s dreams, Amelia.”
“Such as what you were doing to that girl?” Her lower lip quivered and she bit down on it to hide the betraying movement. Her mind flooded with the painful memories, adding to the turmoil wrought by the unfamiliar cravings of her body and the pleading demands of her heart. “Do you dream about her, too?”
Colin caught her to him again. “Never.”
He kissed her, lighter in pressure and urgency than before, but no less passionate. Soft as a butterfly’s wings, they brushed back and forth across hers, his tongue dipping inside, then retreating. It was a reverent kiss, and her lonely heart soaked it up like the desert floor soaked rain.
Cupping her face in his hands, he breathed, “
This
is making love, Amelia.”
“Tell me you don’t kiss her like this.” She cried softly, her nails digging into his back through his sweater.
“I don’t kiss anyone. I never have.” His forehead pressed against hers. “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”
 
“Maria.”
The sound of her name spoken in Christopher’s raspy voice made Maria whimper with a mixture of need and fear. He heard the sound and pulled her closer, his lips moving urgently across hers.
She did not know how to handle the feelings he incited in her, the strange mixture of endless desire that went beyond the physical and wavering hope, as if something could come of this affair between them.
“I wanted you with me when I woke this morning,” he said, his arms strong around her.
She stared up into his austerely handsome features, noting that his skin was pale beneath his tan and his countenance as weary in appearance as hers. “I wanted to stay, but
this
,” she gestured between them, “cannot be between us.”
“It was, perhaps, fortunate that you left. Otherwise, I might never have realized how it would feel to lose you completely.”
Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingertips to his lips, stemming the intimate confession. She winced as he caught her wrist and pressed an ardent kiss into her palm. What happened to the pirate she first met in the theater? Physically, the man before her looked the same, perhaps even a little worse for wear, but the eyes that stared back at her were far different. Though familiar. For a long moment, she stared at him, trying to place why she felt such a mad fluttering in her stomach. And then it came to her in a flash of frightening comprehension.
“What is it?” he asked, frowning with concern.
She looked away, her gaze darting around the room, trying to find something, some object that would ground her in reality.
Christopher caught her shoulders, preventing her from escape. “Tell me. By God, we have too many secrets between us. Too much left unsaid. It’s killing us.”
“There is no ‘us,’” she whispered, sucking in a fortifying breath only to find her senses inundated with the scents of bergamot soap and starch. The scent of Christopher.
“You know I wish that were true,” he said softly, his head lowering, his lips parting an instant before they touched hers. His hand slipped into the neckline of her chemise and cupped her bare breast. She gasped at the lancing heat that burned through her, and he took advantage, his tongue gliding deep.
Expert fingers found her hardened nipple and pinched it, rolled it, plucked at it until her knees weakened.
He caught her up then, lifting her feet from the floor and carrying her to the bed.
“How will we end this,” she asked, with her hot face pressed into his shoulder, “if we make love again?”
“That question requires reason to answer it,” he murmured, laying her down carefully. Leaning over her, his hands on either side of her hips, he gave her that slow seductive smile that she was helpless to resist. “But there is no reason to what is between us. There never has been.”
Maria was touched by his gentleness. Her heart began to race, and suddenly unable to look at the emotion in his eyes, she closed her own.
BOOK: Sylvia Day - [Georgian 02]
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