When I'm with You (15 page)

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Katie peered over her shoulder to make sure the corridor was still clear. Her heart pounded with so much force she felt lightheaded for a panicky moment. “Let's just see if we can do it ourselves.”

“Fine.” Martha didn't look too happy as she scurried around to grab Rafe by the wrists and they heaved in unison. “So, come on.”

Rafe was every bit as heavy as he looked. Considering he was deadweight, Katie was amazed her spine didn't snap right in half, as her back muscles screeched in protest. The thought of lugging him down the stairs and to the bachelors' corridor, without making a sound and moving as quickly as possible, brought a groan to her lips. It would be a miracle if they weren't caught.

They grunted and heaved, panted and breathed as they slowly trudged toward the rear staircase.

Martha took a particularly hard step, stumbling in the process. “I'm losing my grip on him.” Rafe's left arm slipped free to smack against the floor, and she swore softly, while Katie smothered a wild giggle. Rafe's hand, his fingers curling into his palm, traveled less smoothly. It bumped and thudded as it scraped across the floor's imperfections, and once Martha stepped on his thumb, causing them both to stumble.

That was the last straw. They dropped him, none too gently, on the carpet. Katie arched her back to pop the stiffness from it, while Martha bent at the waist to try and draw a deep breath. Their senses of urgency surged back in unison as they took hold of their respective limbs again. Martha tucked the wayward arm over his chest, and they hefted him up once more. Oddly enough, he felt even heavier now. How was that even possible?

The distance down the corridor had never felt so long. Instead of the gap closing, it felt as if it stretched farther with each bloody step.

At the top of the staircase, Katie dropped his ankles. Her back had gone from screeching to shrieking, and if she bent over again, she was afraid she'd never get herself back upright. Not to mention, she kept having the horrible image of dropping Rafe down the stairs.

“Katie!” Martha's whisper was hot and hurried. “Come on!”

Rubbing her sweaty palms on her skirts, Katie glared at Martha. “I'm
trying
,” she gritted, crouching to take Rafe's ankles again.

She peered down into the shadowy turn of the staircase. “Bloody hell,” she breathed, sweat trickling along her temples and along her spine. “We have to get him down those stairs. And without dropping him.”

“Oh, could you imagine the din he'd make if we did drop him and he crashed all the way to the bottom of the staircase?”

“What the hell—” Rafe's voice was muffled by the carpet, but there was no mistaking the confusion in it as he rolled onto his side and peered up at both of them. “What the devil are you doing to me?”

“You need to get up. Now.” Martha grabbed him under the arms, and they both groaned as she tried to yank him to his feet. “A little help, please, Captain. Do you know how much trouble we'll have if anyone happens upon us?”

“Trouble?” Rafe groaned again, rubbing the back of his head. “Where am I? Damn it all, my head's pounding. What happened?”

Katie dragged the back of her wrist over her forehead. “One of the other maids brained you with a vase. And if it's who I think it is, she
wants
you to be found here— which we can
not
let happen—and she's probably fetching Mrs. Bates this very moment.”

All three of them stiffened as Abigail's voice echoed toward them. “Honest, Mrs. Bates, I caught them myself! In her room, of all places.”

Katie's mouth went dry, and she dove to help Martha heft Rafe to his feet. “You must get up. I need your help.”

“All right, all right,” Rafe grumbled, rising onto obviously unsteady feet. He swayed, grabbing the wall for support with one hand. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Oh, no you don't. There's no time for that, and we won't ever be able to explain any of this if you are,” Martha snapped, pulling him toward the last door on the right. It was the room next to Abigail and Josephine's, and was currently being renovated, as a previous storm had sent a tree branch sailing through the window and the rain had done its best to ruin the walls.

“Abigail, why on earth would Captain Sebastiano be up here?” Exasperation made Mrs. Bates's voice louder than normal, and Katie reacted by dragging Rafe into the room while Martha closed the door silently behind them. “The bachelors' quarters are nowhere near this corridor.”

Katie stared at the mess around them. Broken glass glittered on the floor just inside the windows and the wall was stained, the paper ruined. Large canvas cloths had been tossed over damaged furniture. Still, she breathed a silent prayer of thanks when she heard Martha say, “Mrs. Bates, what's the matter?” as normal as ever.

“Abigail told me Katie and Captain Sebastiano are trysting in your room.”

“She said what? That's silly, not to mention impossible. I was just in there. Katie was up in Lady Sally's chambers last I saw her, and I haven't seen the Captain since last evening.”

Katie pointed to the heap of canvas in the corner, draped over a low chair. “There,” she whispered, pointing.

Rafe noiselessly slid beneath the canvas, tugging her with him. It was hot and dark beneath the cloth, and Katie tried not to panic as the blackness pressed in to make breathing difficult. She didn't like small spaces. Not one bit. Even darkness had weight, and it did its best to smother her. Her fear stemmed from childhood and she had yet to outgrow it. She couldn't hold back the low groan.

“Easy,
novia
.” Rafe's whisper drifted down through the darkness, and he slid an arm carefully about her to pull her close against his body. “Don't give us away now.”

“I can't help it. I can't breathe,” she panted. “I—I don't like the d-dark. It keeps m-me from b-breathing.”

“Just slow it down.” Rafe's voice was low and calm, washing over her like a balm. “Breathe normally. Darkness can't hurt you. Especially with me right here.”

Dizziness washed over her. She struggled to take slow, easy breaths, concentrating on how her blood moved through her body with each one. All the while, Rafe whispered, “In… Out…”

Little by little, her fear abated and the dizziness receded, but she still remained snug against him. Purely instinct, no doubt, keeping herself in constant contact with him. It was the only place she ever felt truly safe. Not since she was a young girl had she felt that same sense of security that she felt up against him, with his arm tight about her.

She glanced up at him, just able to make out his profile. “I'm afraid of the—”

“I know. I remember.” His arm tightened about her. “You and the dark. Trust me, I haven't forgotten. And you've nothing to fear. I'm right here, and there is nothing here now that wasn't here when we first came into this room.”

“I have plenty to fear. If Mrs. Bates catches us in here, I'll be fired at once.”

The floor outside the room creaked, and he pressed a hand over her lips to quiet her. “Hush.”

She glared at him, but did as she was told. Just beyond the door, the creaking stopped, and Abigail stammered as she tried to explain to Mrs. Bates why the tryst she'd tried to expose didn't exist.

Rafe grumbled, “I should hit her upside the head with a vase and see how she likes it.”

“You aren't bleeding. I think you'll live.”

“Hurts like anything.”

Without thinking, Katie slid her fingers up into the silken thickness of his hair. It was softer than she remembered, although his hiss of pain and the egg-sized lump she found kept her admiration in check. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered.

The canvas rustled as he turned to her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, although she still couldn't see him clearly. But she felt him move, felt the warm whisper of his breath on her cheek, and she was grateful for the darkness when he murmured, “I'm the one who should be begging your pardon, Katie. For everything. I would do anything in my power to go back and do things differently. But I can't. I can only ask you to forgive me and maybe we can move forward from here.”

Her heart reverberated in her ears as the door suddenly opened. The urge to move surged through her, but she fought it as she heard Mrs. Bates say, “Perhaps you should spend the day cleaning out the larder, with Lucy overseeing you, Abigail. I don't take lying lightly, especially when—” The door clicked shut again, muffling the rest of the housekeeper's words and rendering them nothing more than sounds.

The footsteps died away, and Rafe tugged the canvas from over their heads. Katie dragged in a deep lungful of cool air, shoved several locks of hair from her face, but otherwise made no move to pull away from Rafe. He did nothing to free himself. Instead, he caught her by the chin and turned her face to his.

The air crackled around them. She could almost see the flashes, like heat lightning on a summer's night. It was if they were suspended in time, the moment agreeing to never end. It was the first time in what felt like forever that she had gazed up into his beautiful eyes, but she hadn't forgotten how it felt to do so. At that moment, nothing else mattered. The world consisted of only the two of them, and she wanted that to last.

He didn't say anything, but just looked down at her with those unusual golden eyes. The air snapped between them, and when he dipped toward her, she lifted her lips to receive his kiss.

Everything fell away the moment their lips met. Rafe slid his other arm about her, dragging her up and across his lap to fold her against him. She eased into him, threading her fingers through the soft dark waves curling over his collar. Every last ache, every last pain, simply melted away as his mouth moved against hers. His kiss was a salve, the strongest medicine she'd ever had, and her toes curled in her house shoes. Pleasure unfurled deep inside her, flooded her veins with a sweet fire she'd forgotten existed. Perhaps he felt it as well, for his arms tightened about her. She didn't protest. It felt so wonderful, being held this way, and when his breath hitched, boldness sped through her and it was her turn to tug him even closer.

She parted her lips, hesitant as she flicked her tongue against his upper lip. Her caution fled when he groaned deep in his throat. The wet heat of his mouth beckoned her and she let her tongue caress his. He eased her down onto the canvas, pressing his upper body into hers. She tightened her hold on him, unwilling to allow even a fraction of space between them, welcoming his weight against her. He surrounded her, engulfed her, and she melted into him, wishing like mad he would slide a hand over her waist, up to her breast, and touch her bare skin. She ached for his touch, for the exquisite pleasure of his hands on her body.

His mouth, hot and demanding, devoured hers, moved down along her jaw into the slope of her neck. An airy laugh bubbled to her lips as he brushed that sweet spot just below her left ear. He lingered over it before kissing his way down to the hollow of her throat, into the cleft of her breasts. Her body responded, her back arching, her breasts straining against the confines of her corset. Deep inside, down below her belly, a small knot tightened. And another. And another. But these weren't uncomfortable knots. No, they were wicked in their sweetness, and as they multiplied, her breath grew more difficult to catch. Her head spun. Her heart raced.

His hair brushed her to send another ripple of pleasure through her. Without thinking, she threaded her fingers through it again, twisted them in the dark strands to hold on for dear life as a tidal wave of desire crashed over her. God help her, she wanted him and she didn't care where they were. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that maddening ache for him, the one searing her from the inside out. The one demanding to be satisfied now.

“Rafe…” She couldn't keep the plaintive note from her voice. He had to feel it, and God willing, he wanted her with equal madness. She didn't think she'd bear it if he didn't. Tension swirled through her, the pent-up madness of unresolved desire.

He shifted, aligning his body with hers, and as his hips pressed hard into her, she felt the solid ridge of his erection right where she ached for him the most. Oh, yes. He wanted her. She smiled, her cheek pressed into the warm silk of his hair. She wanted to toss up her skirts and surrender to the urge. He rocked against her, and they groaned in unison. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

However, her skirts were wrapped tight about her legs and she couldn't part them, could do no more than lift her hips a fraction of an inch off the floor. That wasn't enough either.

Freeing one hand, she reached down to tug at her cumbersome skirts, and her frustration mounted as they refused to yield. Damn fabric. It trapped her but good.

Unable to loosen her skirts, she grabbed a fistful of his fine lawn shirt, tugging it away from his breeches, and eased one hand beneath it to slide along his smooth, hot skin. Perhaps he'd take the hint and free her as well. The words floated to her lips as he shivered against her. Any moment now and he'd reach his hand beneath the heavy linen and skim his fingertips along her calf, up her inner thigh…

“Wait…” Rafe was breathless as he broke away, fighting for air even as he pressed his hips into her once more. “Not like this. Not here, in this sad little room.”

“But—” Katie swallowed the rest of her protest. Desperation was an ugly thing, even if Rafe already knew she wanted him. He had to know. How couldn't he?

He closed his eyes, his expression suggesting a man in pain. Or, judging by how tight his breeches felt, at least discomfort. His breathing remained ragged around the edges as he shook his head. “No. You deserve better than this. You always deserve better than what you get.”