A Most Dangerous Lady (6 page)

      When he began to drag off her own clothing, convinced now of her experience, Lady Caroline gave a strangled cry and helped him.

      Soon she too was naked, her body unnaturally pale in the moonlight.

      Silently admiring her beauty, Trajan forgot that other men must have seen her like this, enraptured by the sight before him to care about such details. She was perfect as an ivory statue, a veritable Galatea come to life, those neat breasts and flat belly above curving hips and long, slender thighs, between which he knelt to admire the apex of blonde curls lying in wait for him there.

      His hands slipped beneath her buttocks, raising her instinctively to his mouth. She moaned wildly as his tongue slipped inside, tasting her, exploring the sensitive nub of flesh there.

      ‘Trajan.’ Her head thrashed from side to side, her voice barely recognisable. ‘Please.’

      He had meant to delay, to take his sweet time with her. But the violence of her response fanned his desire to white-hot flames. This would be no rape. Caroline was as eager for their union as he was, urging him on with guttural cries and moans. His hands shook, his face hot as he raised himself from her pliant flesh, his breathing laboured.

      Was she ready for him? She had to be ready, for he could not wait!

      ‘Yes,’ Trajan muttered, replying to an unspoken question, and knelt above her on the rough wooden floor. He wished they had some comfortable feather mattress to lay back on. But this filthy place had been her choice, after all.

      He parted her thighs and positioned himself between them. God, how he wanted her! He could not remember wanting a woman quite so urgently before. But then, he had never been faced by a wanton armed with a pistol before.

      Lady Caroline arched against him as he drove powerfully inside her, her hands gripping his hips, nails digging into his skin.

      ‘Trajan!’ she moaned at his entry.

      Shock dragged Trajan to a standstill. She had been a virgin, and he had just taken her without even the slightest consideration for her pain. There could be no other explanation for that brief second of resistance at his entry, and the slight frown furrowing her brow as he’d pushed further inside, intent on his own pleasure.

      ‘Caroline?’

      ‘Don’t stop,’ she moaned, undulating beneath him in a rhythm so primitive and suggestive it nearly sent him mad. ‘I want you, Trajan. I want
this
.’

      Her first time, and he had behaved like an animal. He raised himself on his elbows, staring down at her in the moonlight. ‘Damn it, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?’

      ‘Because this is what I wanted, why I brought you here in the first place,’ she whispered, then hid her flushed face in his chest. ‘Oh god, I must have been insane. For the sake of one night!’ She sounded almost angry. ‘Yet what else could I have done? I was all but invisible to you.’

      ‘My god, Caroline, did that surprise you?’ His gaze raked her body, so voluptuous in naked surrender, her thighs and cradling hips fitting so perfectly against him. He buried his face in her golden hair, inhaling its rich scent. ‘Why conceal all this beauty under those dowdy old gowns?’

      ‘You wish to hear the truth, my lord?’

      ‘Oddly enough, yes.’

      Caroline swallowed, staring at his chest as though afraid to meet his eyes. ‘In my first season, I had hoped to receive an offer from you. When none was forthcoming, I quickly realised that I had no interest in marrying another man.’

      ‘For pity’s sake!’ Trajan exclaimed.

      ‘One day, I fell into conversation with some friends and together we devised the Petticoat Club.’ She saw his harsh stare, and bit her lip. ‘Oh, for the first few years we played mostly harmless tricks on gentlemen who had slighted us. But then, we began to hear of greater atrocities. Girls left pregnant and unmarried for want of a fortune, some even taking their own lives in despair. In response, our tricks grew rather more serious.’

      ‘So you diverted attention from yourself as leader of this club by playing the part of an unattractive dowd?’

      Lady Caroline nodded, silently searching his face as though afraid what she might find there.

      ‘A neat and highly effective stratagem,’ he muttered. ‘I would never have guessed at it. And you were right to be angry when I said no woman could undertake those deeds alone. Though you have made use of your servant.’

      ‘On this occasion only!’ she protested. ‘We do not usually
hold
gentlemen much beyond an hour or two. It was necessary to leave someone here with you, and there was no one else I could trust.’

      ‘Hush!’ He kissed her throat, the wild pulse beating there, deeply aware of how their limbs still tangled and overlapped. ‘No need to explain. You are an open book to me now, Lady Caroline. I know your secrets.’

      She gripped his bare shoulders. ‘That is not all you know,’ she reminded him daringly, and met his lips with a burning kiss.

      His body hardened irrevocably under that kiss. Her head dropped back with pleasure as he began to thrust  into her again, but delicately this time, almost too gently and delicately.

      Caroline feared she would die from the pleasure of those soft teasing thrusts. But they were not enough to satisfy her.

      ‘More,’ she groaned, dazed and barely comprehending her own need.

      ‘Are you sure, Caro?’ His body shook with the effort of controlling his urgency, sweat on his forehead. ‘I may not be able to stop.’

      ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,’ she whispered. ‘You’re a rake, so don’t spoil things by acting the gentleman now. I want you to take me!’

      He obliged, only too eager to move into her more forcefully. Caroline raised her hips, fitting her rhythm to his thrusts, an unfamiliar pleasure beginning to build inside her, growing stronger every moment. So this was what they whispered about in private, those married women with their knowing smiles and disconcerting asides. Some wives hated their womanly “duties”, she knew. But others would fan themselves and look secretively at their husbands.

      No wonder, she thought wildly, no wonder! All this heat, this almost unbearable pleasure.

      Suddenly, he slipped his hand down between their bodies, finding and stroking her quim, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts, head raised to watch her face.

      Caroline gasped, lost in the grip of something wonderful, indescribable, her senses spiralling out of control. She saw a myriad of dazzling colours in the moonlight, suddenly super-sensitive to the pressure of his hand, the cries of their voices, her whole being centred where their bodies met and joined. Trajan seemed to understand her need, his slow strokes bringing her ever closer to the edge of some mysterious cliff in her mind. And as she fell, tumbling back into space, she took him with her, her legs wrapped around his buttocks, her kiss releasing him.

      She heard his passionate groan, and guessed that Trajan was spilling his seed deep inside her, unable to hold back any longer.

      Lovingly, her hand pushed back the damp hair from his forehead.

      He stared down at her as though he had never seen her before. ‘Caroline,’ he breathed.

      ‘Hush,’ she answered, burying her face in his hot shoulder to hide the tears in her eyes. It was done; it was over, and she regretted nothing except that it would never happen again. ‘Please don’t say anything. There’s nothing more to say.’

It was cold outside as Trajan saddled the gelding in the gloomy light of dawn, frowning across at her cloaked form huddled in the doorway. Every instinct told him to stay and protect her, yet at the same time he wanted to feel the road underneath him at a gallop, the wind in his hair.

      ‘You’re sure?’

      ‘Joseph will return soon with the carriage,’ Caroline said simply. ‘He’ll escort me back to town as agreed. You take Jupiter. Let your friends know you’re safe.’

      Trajan nodded, resisting a powerful urge to return and kiss her.

      It was best if he took a few days alone to clear his head and consider what had happened here between them. He was still reeling from his encounter with this incredible woman, and was not quite sure what to make of her, nor what he was truly feeling. His blood was running high and his body was on fire. This was no time to make rash decisions based on the emotions of the moment, he told himself sternly.

      Trajan swung himself up into the saddle, gathering the reins in both hands. He said nothing but his gaze met hers through the chill misty air.

      ‘God speed, my lord,’ Caroline murmured, and disappeared back inside.

      He was free.

      Trajan looked up assessingly at the rough dwelling where he had been held a prisoner in such unusual circumstances, then he grimaced.

      ‘Get up, Jupiter!’ he urged the horse, setting off back to London at a fierce pace. ‘You’ll see your mistress again, never fear. Though whether I will is less certain.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

A week passed, and every knock at the door of their town house brought Caroline to the front salon window in trepidation. She was not sure what would be worse: to see Lord Trajan Randall on the front steps, or the grim faces of the Bow Street Runners.

      No one came to accuse or arrest her, however, and there were no scandalous rumours at any of the salons or soirées she frequented to indicate that Trajan  had mentioned her double life to anyone in the
ton
. Though many were asking where he had been, and what the mystery of his disappearance was all about. Indeed, it was all she and her friends in the Petticoat Club could do not to stare at each other in consternation whenever his name came up.

      Caroline’s relief at this unexpected escape from disgrace was tinged with fear. Trajan might have decided not to prosecute her for abduction, but if he had truly forgiven her, where was he?

      Trajan probably never wants to see me again, she told herself bitterly. And who can blame him?

      Finally, on the eighth day after her return home, gazing dully out of the window across the busy London street, Caroline heard a clatter of hooves below. Instantly recognising the forbidding countenance of the gentleman who had arrived outside her father’s house, she shrank back, her cheeks scarlet, her body shaking with sudden violent reaction.

      Trajan had come. And he was alone. Not a Runner in sight.

      Smart in a dark blue superfine coat, riding his long-tailed grey and leading her own dear Jupiter, Lord Trajan Randall looked every inch the dandy. And an unlikely match for the bespectacled Lady Caroline in her dismal grey gown.

     
What to do, where to go?

     
Caroline took a few lurching steps through the room. She grabbed at the back of the chaise longue for support.

      If Trajan had come alone, he could not have informed the magistrates of her crimes!

      But why?

      Did this mean he cared for her, that he did not wish to see her punished for her impetuous crime? Or was he merely delaying her punishment, like a cat playing with a mouse, to make her suffer more?

      Her knees seemed to be dissolving under her. It was all Caroline could do to remain upright. Yet it was imperative that she should give the appearance of calm when he entered the room, that he should not guess at the turmoil inside her.

      She caught sight of herself in the mirror that overhung the fireplace, gave a muffled shriek and tore off her mop cap, tidying her hair with fingers that shook. 

      The door opened.

      Trajan was admitted, his bow almost perfunctory, his eyes searching for hers immediately. His gaze was hard and stern as he stripped off his riding gloves, sending a cold shiver through her body.

      Thank goodness her aunt was out that afternoon, calling on a sick friend, and so could not witness Lord Randall’s request to be alone with her. Or no doubt she would imagine that marriage was at last on the cards, Caroline thought wildly. Her aunt could not be expected to realise that her shameless niece had already played her only trump card – her virginity – and lost.

      Left alone together by the disapproving butler, they looked at each other appraisingly. Caroline had imagined this meeting many times since that night, yet had always assumed that Trajan would take the lead.

      When he said nothing, Caroline drew herself up, refusing to face her accuser in shivering silence like a whipped bitch.

      She was an earl’s daughter and would behave like one.

      ‘No Runners with you, my lord?’

      ‘Caro – ’ he began to say, taking a step forward, then stopped and bit the word off impatiently. Riding gloves in hand, Trajan gestured instead to the window. ‘I have brought Jupiter back to you. Forgive me, I should have done so earlier. But I was visiting my mother down in Kent and could not leave too soon without arousing her suspicions.’

      So that was where he had been!

      ‘It is a fine afternoon,’ he continued, and met her eyes. ‘Would you care for a ride in the park?’

      ‘Thank you, no,’ she replied colourlessly, and clasped her hands together in front of her chest as though praying. It was a familiar gesture for the timid, mousey Lady Caroline to make, and she saw his eyes flash bitterly to her stance, his lip curling.

      ‘Sir,’ she said, with a pretence at calm. ‘If you have come to punish me, I will understand. I treated you infamously and you have every right to be furious. Only do not punish the Lacey family for my own want of conduct. I will accept without question whatever punishment you choose. But I beg you not to make my shame public, nor to pursue the identity of my other friends in the Petticoat Club.’

      Lord Randall tapped his riding crop against his boot a few times, watching her assessingly. ‘That seems a fair request. I have no bone to pick with your family, nor your dubious friends. So long as they never hold up my coach, they may continue their activities unabated. He hesitated. ‘So you will accept your punishment without question?’