Countess of Scandal (27 page)

Eliza swallowed past the dry lump in her throat, fearful she would cry. "I remembered all that, too. I have never wanted anyone as I want you, Will. I never imagined it could be like that."

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," she admitted.

Will leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. "I know our reunion now is hardly ideal, Eliza. But I am grateful for it nonetheless."

"Grateful you were shot?"

"I suppose so, for it brought me to you, for a while anyway." He suddenly opened his eyes, that bright blue gaze that saw too much piercing her to the heart. "I thought I was dying there in those woods, that I would never see you again. That we are here now is a miracle. I only wish it was a miracle the other men in that patrol could share. When I think of them..." His voice broke, as if it was much too painful to say more.

A miracle, yes—but for how much longer?

Chapter 22

Eliza sat with Will as the sun sank below the horizon and darkness blanketed the gardens in an illusion of safety. She knew all too well it was
only
an illusion, though.

He cradled her hand in his, raising it to his lips for a tender kiss. "Come, walk with me in the garden for a while," he said, pressing her hand against his cheek.

"Are you not tired?" she answered. "You should—"

"I cannot face yet more rest. It is such a fine evening, one we may not see again for some time. Please, Eliza. I won't take you far from the house."

A time they may not see again. Eliza feared that was all too true. They had to leave Killinan right away. But she could sense what he meant, for she felt it, too—that yearning to be young and free again, just for a while. To be as they once were. "Very well, for a few minutes."

Holding hands, they made their way down the stairs and onto the stone terrace at the back of the house. The gardens were quiet under the silvery moonlight, the sparkle of the stars scattered across the dusty black sky.

The dry heat of the day had dissipated, leaving only a
fresh green coolness. The only sound was the crunch of their shoes on the white gravel paths as they walked past the silent, still fountains, the looming sentinels of the topiaries, and the blank-eyed statues.

Eliza saw where he was leading her—to the enclosed garden where they parted all those years ago. The marble bench was still there, where once she sat and waited for him with all the yearning excitement of her young heart. All the foolish ideas that love would conquer all.

Love, she knew now, conquered nothing. But being near him still made her shiver.

She sat down on the bench, just as she had then, and he braced his booted foot on the marble seat beside her. He leaned his elbow on his bent knee, his hair falling forward in a golden curtain to hide his expression from her.

"Do you remember that night?" she asked. 'The night when you told me of your commission?"

"Of course I remember. You sat right there in your pretty white gown."

"And you were in your new red coat" Eliza folded her hands on her lap, thinking how very long ago that all seemed. And yet, in one of those tricks of time, it also seemed to be only yesterday. She feared she was no wiser now than she was then. "If you could talk to that Will now, what would you say to him?"

He smiled down at her. "I would tell him to purchase more mosquito netting. The islands are full of the annoying creatures."

Eliza laughed despite herself. "Is that all you would tell him?"

"Are you asking if I would warn him not to join the Army?" He sat down beside her, not touching but close.

As close as he had been before they parted that night. "I felt I had no choice then, Eliza. I wanted to make my way in the world, and it seemed the best path to do so. I had no calling to the church, no aptitude for politics or the law. The military seemed an honorable career for a younger son."

"Seemed?"

He looked at her, his eyes shadowed with pain and secrets. "I am not so sure of anything any longer. I have had to do things as my duty that were ..." His words trailed away, as if he could not bear to voice them, could not yet tell her those secrets. Just as she could not tell hers.

"I know," she said quietly. "Things have not turned out as I imagined, either. As I once foolishly hoped."

"What would you say to that past Eliza, then, if she were also here now?"

"I would tell her to kiss you and not part in anger. To cherish every moment together because life is fragile and precious."

"Would you tell her not to marry?"

Eliza laughed. "Oh, she told herself that every day! But she was young and heartbroken from first love. She let herself be guided by her family and not her own instincts. She vowed never to do that again."

"And has she kept that vow?"

"She is trying," Eliza whispered. "But it is not always easy."

Will reached over and took her hand again, twining his fingers with hers until they were palm to palm. She could feel the thrum of his pulse, the beat of his lifeblood that flowed against hers. 'Then kiss me now, Eliza. We can be that young, foolish pair again, just for a moment."

She leaned toward him, softly touching her lips to his. She closed her eyes and remembered the first time they kissed. Her heart had been pounding then, too, with excitement, fear, and the blossoming of passion.

Now she knew him, knew the taste and feel of him, the full, volcanic force of that lust between them. And also knew the dark depth of the gulf between them. They had parted twice now, and the next farewell would surely be their last. But for now she had to take her own advice— kiss him and never part in anger.

He groaned, his tongue seeking hers hungrily as that flame again soared between them. All-consuming.

He tugged her muslin bodice and thin chemise lower, baring her breasts to the cool night. Softly, enticingly, his hands skimmed over her naked shoulders and arms. His lips pressed kisses to the corner of her mouth, the line of her jaw, and her throat as her head fell back.

Eliza closed her eyes tightly, reveling in the feel of his kiss on her skin, the touch of his tongue to the sensitive spot just where her neck met her shoulder. He licked at the pulse beating frantically in the hollow of her throat, his long, skillful fingers caressing her aching nipple, tugging at it gently as it hardened under her touch.

"Will," she whispered roughly, tangling her fingers in his hair. Whether to push him away or draw him closer, she hardly knew. Her mind was wrapped in that golden haze of desire. "We should not... your wound..."

"Bother all that," he growled. "I've been waiting for too long for this, Eliza. I won't give it up now."

She had been waiting so long, too. All those lonely nights. She pulled him closer, moaning as his mouth closed over her nipple, warm and wet

His hand reached for her skirts, dragging them up until her thighs were exposed. His palm skimmed over her stockinged calf, the curve of her knee, to caress the naked skin of her thigh.

"So beautiful" he muttered, kissing her other breast, the arc of her ribs. He circled her waist with his other arm, trying to drag her onto his lap, but his breath caught painfully.

"No, Will," she whispered, backing away from him. But his arm tightened, holding her close.

"Don't go," he said, capturing her lips in a deep, frantic kiss.

"I won't hurt you," she insisted. She shook her head, trying to clear it of that mist It was very hard to do with his hand on her thigh!

"I am not hurt. I need you, Eliza." He tilted back his head, his eyes dark as he stared at her. "What about my offer to let you be on top?"

An enticing vision of riding him as if he were a sweaty stallion flashed through her mind, and she laughed. "Will, no..."

"Then you would not hurt me. I couldn't open my wound if I just lay there, could I?"

"Somehow, I suspect you would not just lay there," she said.

"Upon my honor."

Honor surely had nothing to do with it, Eliza thought But she went along as he stood up from the bench, drawing her with him. Her clothes fell to the ground, leaving her clad only in her stockings there in the moonlight

For an instant, a strange jolt of modesty struck her. Perhaps her younger self, curious but still frightened, was
haunting her. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but he took her hands, holding them to her side as he kissed her. She opened her mouth, reveling in the hot, pure
life
of him. The essence of all he was, all they were together—at least in rare moments like this one, out of the world and all its terrors.

She snatched at the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his head, leaving his chest bare to her. The bandage was stark white against his lean, bronzed flesh, and the blond, coarsely curling hair sprinkled there gleamed like gilt Fascinated, she trailed her fingertips through that hair, over his warm, damp skin. Her nail scraped lightly over his flat, pebbled nipple, and his breath caught

Her touch skimmed lower over his taut abdomen, unfastening his breeches. His penis was erect, hot velvet over iron under her caress. A tiny drop of moisture glistened at its tip, and she spread it along his taut length.

"Eliza," he growled. Seizing her around the waist, he drew both of them down to the soft, green grass. True to his word, he fell onto his back, letting her straddle his hips.

She shook her hair free of its pins, leaning down to kiss him hungrily as the dark strands fell around them in a concealing curtain. She braced her hands to either side of him, rising above him, drawing her damp cleft along his length as he groaned against her lips.

"Eliza!" he whispered. He reached for her hips as if to roll her beneath him, but she arched away.

"You promised," she said. "Just lie there, sir."

She reached between them, guiding him inside of her as she slowly lowered herself. The slide of him against her sensitive, swollen tissues was utterly delicious. It had been so long, so long...
She threw back her head, closing her eyes to concentrate on every sensation as she found her rhythm, as they learned each other again.

The salty-sweet musk of their joining, the fresh green of the grass crushed under them combined in a heady perfume mat drove her onward. Their moans and incoherent love words echoed on the wind, and it was as if the night was theirs alone. The stars, the moon, all theirs, a treasure that could never be taken away.

Their rhythm grew faster, more frantic, his hands tight around her waist as she rode him. Then, deep in her very core, she felt that pressure expanding, growing. Behind her closed eyes, brilliant lights exploded in the darkness, red and white sparks.

"Will!" she cried out, her back as taut as a bowstring as her climax washed over her.

He, too, shouted, her name. His head thrashed on the grass as his hips arced beneath her.

She collapsed to the ground beside him, their legs still entwined as they tried to catch their breath. Will kissed her shoulder, resting his forehead against her as she trembled.

She thought she would weep from the sudden force of her emotions, and she curled her fist into the earth to try and hold those tears back.

"You see," Will muttered against her hair, "I kept my promise."

Eliza laughed shakily, turning her face to look at him. A cloud obscured the moon for a moment, wrapping them in the welcome concealment of darkness. "So you did."

"How I have missed this," he said, drawing her closer into the curve of his body. "Missed you."

"I missed you as well. Dublin was dull without you."

"Somehow I doubt your life could ever be
dull,
my lady."

"I would welcome a bit of dullness just now, I confess." She caressed the arm he wrapped around her waist, running her fingers down the corded muscle to hold his hand close against her. From far off, in the perfect silence of the night, she heard the howl of a bird. Long and mournful, eerie like an omen in some old Irish tale. A banshee, perhaps, the harbinger of death. It made her shiver.

"Are you cold?" Will asked, kissing her shoulder. "Come, we should go inside."

"It does grow late," Eliza answered. "But I hate for this to end."

She rolled over, pressing her lips to his in one last, lingering kiss. A kiss that had to say all she could not 'Thank you, Will."

He gave her a bemused smile. "For what?"

"For giving me this night"

Will laughed, reaching for his rumpled shirt and her chemise and gown. "Surely I should be the one thanking you. You have been a most excellent... nurse."

Eliza pulled her chemise over her head so he could not see her face. He should not thank her for nursing him back to health when it was her own ideals and work that helped wound him in the first place.

She stepped into her gown, pulling the sleeves over her shoulders. He stepped close behind her, fastening the tapes of her bodice. His fingers brushed the bare skin of her nape, brushing her tumbled hair aside to press his lips to that sensitive spot A shower of sparks danced down her spine again, and she swayed back against him.