Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (39 page)

“I considered it, but then, I decided I should grace you with my marvelous presence.”

She bent down so they were nose to nose. “You arrogant ass!”

He laughed and laughed. “Oh, it’s so good to be with you again.”

He reached for the front of her dress, tugging at the bodice to bare her breasts, but she slapped his fingers away.

“Before this goes any further, we have to get a few things straight.”

“Like what?”

“I need to hear a marriage proposal from you.”

A surprised brow rose. “You want to marry me?”

“Yes, you oaf. Civilized people wed when they behave as they shouldn’t.”

“You want to marry
me
?” He said it again, as if it was the strangest prospect ever voiced.

“Yes. I realize you’re your father’s son, and he’s the greatest libertine in the land, but don’t imagine for a second that I’ll allow you to act as he would. I’m not some green girl with stars in her eyes, and you’re not shirking your responsibility. You ruined me, and you’re stuck with me.”

“But…marriage.” He shuddered. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”

“If I keep trifling with you, I’ll end up with child. I’m lucky it hasn’t already occurred.”

“You don’t have to worry over it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Women who wantonly fornicate have babies.”

“Not with me. I can’t sire any children.”

“What makes you believe that?”

“I never have.”

“What if I’m the first?”

The comment stopped him in his tracks. He pondered and stewed, then nodded. “As you wish,
chérie
. Let us wed, and you shall have me for your very own. You poor thing.”

She scowled. “Was there a question in there somewhere? You have to
ask
me, Jean Pierre. You can’t order me as if I’m one of your sailors.”

He nodded again, actually looking contrite. “Will you marry me, my dearest Sarah?”

“That’s more like it.” She beamed with affection. “Yes, John, Jean Pierre Sinclair. I will, and the sooner the better, you wretch.”

“Must we do it immediately?”

“I suppose I could wait until tomorrow,”she churlishly agreed.

“Then can you please cease your scolding so I might have a few minutes to be welcomed back?”

“I could probably be persuaded.”

She raised her arms and plucked the combs from her hair, the auburn mass swinging down to float across her shoulders. He watched like a connoisseur, like a man who’d just espied the very item he’d always wanted, and she was reminded of the person she became when she was with him. With a hot, searing glance, he made her feel wicked and happy and so very, very decadent.

He drew her down to him, and he began kissing her again, and there was such wonderment at being with him. She felt as if it had been years rather than months, as if she’d been wandering, lost and alone, and had finally been found.

He rolled them so he could be in charge and in control, and she was delighted to let him take the lead. Slowly, he stripped her of her clothes, of her undergarments, stockings, and shoes.

He dawdled, nibbling, tasting, feasting. If disaster had struck at that very moment and she never had the chance to take another breath, she’d go to Heaven as the most contented woman who’d ever lived.

She set to work too, removing his shirt and boots, his trousers. As she tugged them down and off, they were joyous, laughing, with him seeming relaxed and comfortable as he’d never previously been with her.

They couldn’t delay for long. Their separation had been too trying, their reunion too precious. And he was a very lusty man. His passion sparked, the physical tension of their bodies quickly increasing.

“I missed you,”he murmured.

“I missed you, too.”

“Are you still glad you’re mine?”

“Are you mad? Why would you have to ask?”

“When I was in prison, I dreamed of you every second.”

“You liar. You did not.”

“I did,
chérie
. I thought of you lying beneath me like this. I thought of how pretty you are, how you smile and sigh just for me.”

“You’re such a flatterer. You realize, don’t you, that it’s impossible for me to be angry with you?”

“Of course it’s impossible. I am Jean Pierre, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten. I never will.”

He widened her thighs, his torso dropping between her legs. His ministrations had been very thorough, and he entered her with ease, gliding in, buried to her womb.

He rocked his hips, taking her, possessing her. All the while, he was whispering words of love and praise in French, in Italian, in other languages she couldn’t identify.

He dipped to her breast and suckled her nipple.

“Come with me,
chérie,
”he coaxed. “Come with me to the end.”

“I will, Jean Pierre.”

“Tell me that I am the one, Sarah. Tell me that I will always be the only one.”

“Always you. Always you forever.”

She let go, her entire being flying to the heavens. He joined her with a deep thrust, spilling his seed far inside. The pleasure went on and on, never seeming to stop. Then finally, blissfully, they reached the top and tumbled down. Together.

He turned onto his back and pulled her across him so she was draped over his chest, her ear directly over his heart. She could hear its steady beating.

He was quiet, pensive, a calloused hand lazily stroking her skin. She caressed him too, touching his various scars. A stab from a knife. A slash from a sword. A hole from a bullet. A gash from a whip.

So many injuries to his beautiful physique. So much fighting and danger. Oh, how she hoped it was over!

“I wasn’t coming back,”he eventually admitted.

“I was afraid you weren’t.”

“I was in Dover, ready to sail away, but I couldn’t. I had to see you.”

“What now? Please promise me that you’re finished with rampaging.”

He sighed. “I suppose I must be. When my father and sister have gone to so much trouble on my behalf, it would be a bit ill-mannered to ignore their kindness.”

“Yes, it would.” Tentatively, she asked, “So…you’re done? No more raids?”

“I don’t know how I can keep on. My father boasted to the world that I’m an honorable man. He staked his reputation on my good behavior, so how can I not be the person he described me to be?”

She wanted to jump up and raise a fist of triumph in the air, but she tamped down her inclination to gloat and preen.
She
had arranged his family’s assistance.
She
had given him this amazing gift.

Instead, she whispered a prayer of gratitude that he was safe, that he would be safe from this moment on.

“You nearly let them kill you without a fight,”she petulantly said. “I nearly killed you myself for you being such an idiot.”

“It would have been silly to protest my execution. My life was hardly worth saving.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jean Pierre. Your life was worth saving because you get me as the prize at the end.”

“My fierce little champion,”he said, and there was such warmth in his voice that she felt very proud.

He was quiet again for so long that she assumed he’d fallen asleep, but suddenly, he spoke. “You once claimed you’d travel to London with me if I wished to meet my family. Were you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve been invited for a visit—by my brother Phillip.”

“Oh, Jean Pierre, that is marvelous.” She rose up to look him in the eye. “We’re going, yes?”

“It appears that we are.”

“Will your father be there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You owe him your thanks.”

His smile was wry. “Don’t remind me. It’s too galling.”

“You can have a relationship with him now and shed this anger that’s been driving you.”

“Perhaps.”

“And Harriet? Will she be there?”

“Yes.”

“How about her husband Tristan?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about James and Tristan.”

“But the others?”

“Yes.”

She grinned. “I’ll need a new gown.”

“You definitely will.”

He snuggled her down as she inquired, “When will we leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Which means you’ll get to avoid your leg shackle for a few more days.”

“Look at it this way: We can obtain a Special License while we’re in town.”

She peeked up at him. “It’s the first thing we’ll do once we arrive.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock, which is precisely five minutes later than the last time you asked.”

“I’m just so nervous. Aren’t you nervous?”

Phillip smiled at his wife, Anne. “If I admit to being on the verge of panic, will you feel better?”

“Yes. I hate that you’re so cool and composed. The French Terror is about to walk into my front parlor, and you act as if we’re having the neighbors over for tea.”

They were gathered in Phillip’s town house, and so far, his sister Fanny and her husband Michael were the only ones who’d joined them.

Charles might come—or not. Phillip could never predict what his father might do.

As to Harriet and Helen, Phillip was still crossing his fingers. But as to their husbands, James and Tristan, he wasn’t counting on them. There were too many issues separating James, Tristan, and John, but none of them were caused by the three brothers. Their parents were the culprits, but the weight of their parents’ indiscretions had landed on their children.

Phillip didn’t suppose the three of them would ever be cordial, but then, he probably shouldn’t use the word
ever
in his convoluted family.

“What is John like?”Fanny inquired. “Did Charles say?”

“He looks like us,”Phillip replied, “and Charles thought, as to his personality, he was very much like me.”

Michael scoffed. “Meaning he’s stubborn and intractable?”

“Yes. He’s stubborn and intractable.”

“Was he…” Fanny paused. “I realize I’ll sound like a snob, so how can I politely raise this subject? Has he been educated? Is he well-mannered? What sort of individual is coming to supper?”

Michael teased, “Are you afraid we’ll have to show him how to use a fork?”

Fanny’s cheeks flushed. “When you put it that way, my concerns seem so haughtily arrogant.”

“I guess he’s quite learned,”Phillip said. “His mother had him intensely schooled by the best Parisian tutors until she fell on rough times. Charles found him to be brilliant and articulate, and of course, the ladies all claim he’s very dashing.”

Michael snorted. “So he takes after Charles more than you, Phillip.”

Anne said, “Let’s all make a vow to be courteous and get along. No matter what happens or what kind of person he is, I don’t want any quarreling.”

“Agreed,”Fanny said.

“The past is the past,”Anne insisted.

Phillip added, “The trouble is
old
trouble, between the parents, not any of us. I—for one—am very fascinated by the notion of who he is, what he’s accomplished, and that we’re related to him. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Neither can I,”Fanny concurred. “And if he knows he has siblings who care about him, maybe he’ll stop being so angry and behave better.”

“If you can pull that off,”Michael told her, “if you can persuade the mighty French Terror to cease his rampaging, the entire kingdom will be grateful.”

Fanny laughed. “Perhaps they’ll crown me Queen for a day.”

“I hope not,”Michael retorted. “You’d be insufferable as royalty.”

A knock on the front door halted their banter. They exchanged frantic glances, as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Just remember,”Fanny murmured, “he’s probably as nervous about us as we are about him.”

“You’re correct,”Phillip advised, “and remember this, too: Charles
really
liked him, and Charles typically doesn’t like anybody. I’m sure we’ll all be pleasantly surprised.”

The butler entered the parlor and announced, “Master Phillip, may I present Mr. John Sinclair and his fiancée, Miss Sarah Teasdale.”

Michael, Fanny, and Anne stood, as Phillip went over to greet them, finally coming face to face with his only brother. They were the same height, with the same blond hair and green eyes, so it was easy to deduce the kinship. But there were differences, too. There was a hardness to John that Phillip had never had to develop.

Although Phillip had been born a bastard, his grandparents had reared him with every advantage, so he hadn’t had to learn any difficult life lessons. He’d grown up rich and entitled and happy.

Adversity had weathered John, had given him a wary countenance, as if he was constantly expecting an attack. He reminded Phillip of a hawk out hunting, relentlessly searching the area for trouble and missing no detail.

If Fanny had been worried as to how he’d act during the visit, there was no need. His wealth obvious, he was attired like a damn king, wearing the finest clothes, most particularly a green velvet coat that had gold stitching on the bottom that Phillip suspected was sewn from genuine gold thread.

He was dripping with expensive jewelry, including numerous rings laden with diamonds, and even a gold loop in his ear that Phillip was certain the ladies would find fascinating and exotic.

If he’d been promenading into a grand ballroom, he’d have been the most elegantly dressed man in the place.

He and Miss Teasdale were definitely a committed couple, and John seemed very smitten by her. Their strident connection emanated out in a blatant wave, and Phillip could see why John would be fond. She was beautifully striking, petite and slender, with unusual auburn hair and merry blue eyes.

By all accounts, she’d gone to great lengths to save John, and they all owed her a debt of gratitude.

“Mr. Sinclair,”Phillip started, then he stopped. “John, hello. I am Phillip. I am your brother.”

“Hello, Phillip,”John replied, a slight hint of a French accent in his voice.

Phillip pointed behind him. “This is my wife, Anne, and her brother, Michael Wainwright, Viscount Henley.”

“Hello,”John said again.

Phillip gestured to Fanny, and she walked over.