Captive Hearts (26 page)

She put her legs around his waist. Her mouth moist, and hot, fastened onto his shoulder, and she sucked. He

nearly lost his footing as thoughts of her doing that to his distended member turned his legs to water. He staggered to the bed and fell across it with her beneath him.

He buried his face against her breasts, breathing in her scent. His mouth latched onto one pebble hard nipple as his fingers found the wet open heat between her legs.

He shoved the bundled fabric of her gown up around her waist baring the lower half of her body. As he slid downward, his feet found purchase upon the floor.

Cupping her hips, holding her captive, he pressed moist heated kisses across her belly.

As he laved her skin with his tongue and tempted her with his fingertips, her hips moved in a parody of lovemaking. The soft gasping sound of her breathing came to him as he sucked the inside of her thigh while he rubbed the tiny nub of flesh above her passage, then thrust one finger deep inside her. The tight, wet feel of her as she closed around the digit had him grinding his teeth in a bid for control. The desire to bare himself and take her was almost more than he could stand.

When he lifted her to his mouth and thrust his tongue into the very heart of her, she made a strangled squeak of surprised pleasure. He tasted the sweet, salty heat of her upon his tongue, felt the slow roll of her hips as she reached for completion, and his hips moved in time with hers.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. His hands trembled as he unfastened his breeches, his breath coming in short choppy gasps. He braced both knees upon the bed, and balancing himself upon one hand, drove deep inside her.

She bowed her back and cried out. His name became a litany moaned to the pounding beat of his heart as she grimaced in the throws of her own climax. He thrust once, twice, three times. His seed spilled forth in a wave of intense pleasure that left him floating like flotsam upon the soft rise and fall of her breasts.

Katherine smoothed the soft strands of raven dark hair and cupped the back of Matthew’s head. His breathing had finally slowed to a normal rhythm. He wiggled down where he could rest his cheek upon her breast. His long legs hung off the side of the bed, a

position she knew couldn’t be comfortable, yet, he seemed content to rest just where he lay. She had no desire to dislodge him and continued to stroke his hair away from the side of his face enjoying the moments of replete silence they had been cheated of the last time they’d made love. How had she thought for even a moment she would ever be able to deny him, and herself, the pleasure they gave each other? How foolish she had been. This connection she felt to him was too strong.

She laid an arm over her eyes. She didn’t want to think too much this time. She didn’t want to find regret creeping up to drain this feeling from her again.

“Are you all right, Matthew?” she asked after nearly ten minutes had passed and he still had not moved.

“No, I may never be the same. You have drained my strength as surely as Delilah drained Sampson’s.”

“Your hair is still there, my Lord.” She ran her fingers through the thick layer at the nape of his neck.

“Sampson had not traveled three days on horseback before she sheared him.”

“If you wish to sleep, you can do so. I will wake you if anything happens.”

“As much as I would like that, the men might begin to wonder where you and I have gotten to while they’re guarding our backs.”

“I suppose you are right,” Katherine heard the regret heavy in her own voice.

He rolled over with a groan and sat up on the edge of the bed. Denied the cover of his weight and warmth, she crossed her arms over her bare breasts.

“Don’t move.”

She looked up at him to see his gaze intent upon her.

A slow smile curved his lips as he ran a hand up the inside of her thigh to the bare band of pale white flesh just above her garter. His touch instantly set to light a tingling heat in her most intimate spots. She bit her lip as she struggled to control her expression.

“You look beautiful, decadent, and very well serviced, Mrs. Hamilton. I would like to do it all over again, even though it would probably kill me.” She laughed aloud then clapped a hand over her

mouth to stifle the sound.

His devilish grin brought a weakness to her limbs and made her wish he had the strength to do as he wanted. “Come, sweetheart.” He offered her a hand as he rose to his feet. “I’ll play ladies’ maid as I promised when first we married and help you make yourself presentable again.”

“It may take the both of us to repair the damage.” She allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her legs were weak, her shoes gone, her décolleté stretched wide leaving her breasts exposed, not to mention the stickiness between her thighs. Her hair curled in wild wisps about her face where her braid had come undone.

How he could think her beautiful after all that, she could not fathom.

Aware of him watching her every move, she adjusted the neckline of the shift and pulled the laces of her gown to close the gap and cover her breasts. She heard Matthew sigh and looked up to see him watching her with a pained look of regret; a blush heated her cheeks. She turned away to go to the washstand and bathe her face and hands. She wet a cloth and turning her back to him, raised the hem of her gown and wiped away the evidence of their lovemaking.

He had kissed her there, and it had felt so good she had wanted to writhe with the pleasure of it. Her face felt hot with the memory, and her heart beat like a caged bird against the bars of her ribs, even as her body thrummed to life with the feelings he could so easily inspire. These minutes they spent together were exciting, fulfilling and the most precious she would ever know. He was so very, very precious to her.

She turned as he set her shoes on the floor in front of her. He offered her a hand as she slipped her feet into them.

His shirt hung open to the waist. The thick mat of dark hair on his chest, beckoned her to touch. His hair hung down his back and across his shoulders. She watched as he retrieved a partially filled teacup from the rug before the hearth and drank from it. The dark shadow of his beard colored the underside of his jaw. Just to look at him made her want him.

She stepped close and began to button his shirt.

Matthew cupped her elbow as he watched her.

“You must check the men, they will be missing you.

And I must clean up here and return everything to the kitchen. ’Twill be dawn soon.”

When he remained silent, she looked up to find his pale blue eyes fixed on her, and the look in their depths stole her breath. He bent his head, and she rose on tiptoe to meet his lips with her own. The kiss was soft and sweet and so tender, tears pricked her eyes. When it ended, she leaned against him and felt the weight of his arm holding her securely.

“Do you want anything more to eat?”

“No, I am satisfied, for the moment.” She drew a deep breath and stepped away from him.

She was well aware he wasn’t talking about food. There would be a reckoning between them once they returned to London. A painful reckoning. She saw no way for the outcome to be a happy one for either of them.

She could not change the fact that she had been raped. She could not change the fact that her reputation was in tatters. That would follow her even to Charleston, should she go with him. She would become a social burden to him, an albatross hanging about his neck. She wouldn’t be able to bear that. She would slowly die inside seeing his resentment build as he had to defend her honor again and again. Even if he should learn to love her, the strain of that burden would eventually sour his feelings for her. It was just too much to expect of any man.

She had to hold tight to the moments they had right now. They would have to be enough. But even as she thought it, she couldn’t ignore the aching hunger for his love that gnawed at her, nor her fervent wish that things could be different.

Katherine fastened a dark blue ribbon around her long braided tail of auburn hair and brushed it back over her shoulder. She bent to retrieve the food basket, relieved Matthew had insisted on taking the heavy kettle back to the kitchen on his way downstairs. Reluctant to blow out the candle dimly lighting the room, Katherine left it on the nightstand.

She had just entered the kitchen when Franklin appeared in the doorway.

“Might I have another cup of tea, m’lady?”

“Certainly, Franklin, but ‘twill take me a moment to brew it.”

A shout from the front of the house had her tensing, and him swiveling to face the door.

A shout came from upstairs. “The stables are on fire.” A glass panel in the door shattered spraying Katherine with shards of glass. Oily liquid splashed across the floor onto her feet followed by a trail of fire that ignited the kitchen curtains then raced toward her.

Katherine squeaked in fear as she leaped back away from the flames.

Shielding his face from the heat with his forearm, Franklin jerked the curtains from the window. Grabbing a shovel from the hearth, he beat at the flames.

The smell of burning lamp oil rose strong in the room. Katherine grabbed a heavy tin of flour and threw it on the liquid to try to soak it up.

“Get out a ’ere,” Franklin shouted as he beat at the fire like a man possessed.

A cloth covering the worktable in the center of the room caught fire with a quick swoosh, and the basket she had just placed there, began to smolder.

As the flames crept closer, she backed up the servant’s stairs. Hot air blew up the stairwell like an open oven door. The yellow-orange glow of the fire reflected on

the walls down below. She turned and ran down the hallway toward the other end of the house. She had to warn the men on the second floor of the danger and urge them to go down the front stairs to safety.

****

The sound of glass shattering came from other parts of the house. Matthew jerked the blazing curtains from the library window and stomped on them to muffle the flames. The fire finally out, he went to the door to see who was shouting. The mirror in the hallway reflected the angry amber haze of a fire on the curved staircase that led to the second floor. The men had stripped their jackets off and were using them to beat at the flames. “Webster,” he shouted to one of the men. “Why are you not going for water?”

The man turned, his face half covered by a beard.

“The kitchen’s aflame as well. They’re burning the ’ouse from around us.”

Matthew turned to look down the hall to find flames curled around the kitchen door leading out into the hall.

“Webster, gather the men on this floor. We need to get out and take cover.”

“Aye, sir.”

He ran down the hall to the kitchen. Heat blasted him in the face. Franklin was still battling the blaze with a wet towel. Flames undulated up the back wall of the room to the ceiling in a fluid dance that was almost beautiful.

“Get out, man,” he shouted above the roar of the conflagration.

“Did Lady Katherine make it down the front stairs?” Franklin shouted back.

Shock punched the air from Matthew’s lungs. His wife was trapped on the second floor.

****

Katherine heard the unmistakable sound of a shot and she stopped at the corner of the U-shaped corridor to peek around the turn. Cold air blew directly at her from an open window at the end of the hall. A man stepped from one of the bedrooms into the pale light of an oil lamp, his face in shadow. She opened her mouth to call out to him just as he turned and looked down the hall at

her. The dull light etched his jaw line, cheekbones and brow ridge leaving the rest in shadow. His features appeared grotesque, mask-like, his mouth a gaping hungry maul, his eye sockets empty of light and life.

Looking past the trick of light, recognition struck her. The hard line of his jaw softened as he smiled gleefully. He raised a flintlock pistol, and she ducked for cover.

Panic raced through her. She ran back the way she had come, stopping by a lamp just long enough to extinguish it, her legs shaking with reaction, her breathing ragged. Darkness swallowed her and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She pressed back against a doorway hoping the it would cover her should he come around the corner firing. Her fingers fumbled against the wood, and she found the doorknob. She slipped inside the room and closed the door softly. She searched the area beneath the knob for the key to lock the door. It was gone.

Had he killed the men who were guarding the upper story windows? She wondered where the others might be.

Where was Matthew?

The darkness, cloying and cold, embraced her. She closed her eyes against it.

“’Twill do no good to ’ide,” a voice said from outside in the hall.

She jerked and caught her breath.

“The fire is spreadin’ at both ends of the ’ouse, Katherine. ’Twould be better to allow me a clear shot than to burn to death with the men down the ’all.” Her stomach clenched with dread. Had he injured them? Tied them up? Or could he have already killed them and was using them to draw her out? She had to find a weapon.

She shivered, clammy and cold with shock. Katherine shuffled to the right, and slid her hand along the wall.

Her knee came in painful contact with something, and she ran her hand over the surface of the piece of furniture.

It was a cabinet. She was in her brother’s room. That knowledge alone eased her fear. She drew a deep breath and rested her cheek against the cool wood. She opened the doors and ran her hands over the surface within. It was empty, just as she had known it would be. She had taken all the firearms in the house to the dining room

below and loaded them herself. Biting her lip to still its trembling, Katherine stepped away from the cupboard.

The desk was close beside it. She held her hands straight out before her. Her fingertips brushed more wood, and she felt the rounded back of the chair that stood before the desk. The tools Johnny had used to repair the weapons might offer her something with which to defend herself.

She froze as a sound came from outside in the hall. A slender sliver of light appeared along the bottom of the door then moved away. He had lit the lamp. A heavy crash startled her, and she jerked. The sound of breaking glass came from the room next door. A strange glow pulsated from just outside the heavily draped windows across the room to offer her a small amount of light.