Loving a Lost Lord (26 page)

Mariah brushed loose her hair, knowing that time was running out. The next night, Adam would hold his dinner party to introduce his two families to each other. The morning after, Mariah and Julia would head north to home. Tonight was stormy, with steadily beating rain and distant thunder. A night for doing secret, shameful things, like seducing a man who didn't belong to her.

She had wavered back and forth for days, wanting to be with Adam so much that it hurt, while knowing that it was wrong and might end up hurting her more. Tonight was her last chance, so she could delay no longer.

She smiled ruefully at the mirror. Her decision was made: she would take action and risk regret rather than be conservative and safe and even more regretful. Her Sarah conscience had given up and wasn't even speaking to her.

The hour was late enough that the house was quiet and she probably wouldn't be seen on the way to Adam's rooms. After soaking the sponge Julia gave her in vinegar and placing it in position, she donned her best nightgown and robe, a shimmery set of sea green silk garments that had been given to her by a rather too dashing widow after a country house party.

She tied her hair loosely at the nape of her neck with a matching green ribbon. Then she took a lamp shielded to cast a narrow light for walking and slipped from her room. It wouldn't kill her if he rejected her. He would do that kindly, she was sure.

But if she didn't at least try, she surely would die inside.

 

Now that he was home and in possession of most of his memory, Adam had returned to his morning meditations. Sometimes he also meditated at night, for clearing his mind helped him sleep.

But no amount of meditation could make him forget that in a matter of days, Mariah would leave his life forever.

After finishing in his sanctuary, he locked its door and put out all the lights in his sitting room, leaving only the lamp by his bed in the adjoining room to provide light. A storm was rolling over the city, so he opened a set of curtains and gazed out over lightning-splashed London. He liked storms.

A gentle tap sounded on his door. The sound was almost drowned by a distant roll of thunder. Curious, he opened the door—and found Mariah standing there, inches away. She looked up at him, tense and small and misleadingly fragile. “Can I come in?” she asked softly.

“Of course.” He stepped aside, wondering why she was here. Surely not to…

She glided into the room, graceful and compelling in a gossamer garment that surely was designed for seduction. Turning to face him with enormous brown eyes, she said in a less than steady voice, “There is no subtle way to say this. Will you lie with me, Adam? I've taken measures to prevent any awkward consequences.” Her gaze slid away from his. “I know this is wrong, but Janey will have you forever. I will be grateful if we can have one night where we come together freely, with passion and affection. If…if you want me?”

Of all the shocks he'd experienced lately, none was greater than this. “If I want you? I've never wanted anything or anyone more.” He clenched his hands, fighting the temptation to touch her. “I shouldn't. Yet…I don't feel betrothed to Janey. She is very dear to me, but being with you doesn't seem like betrayal of her. It feels…right.”

“Then for tonight, let us be together.” She smiled wistfully. “We can create memories that will live in our hearts forever.”

Amnesia had taught him how much memory defined a man, and how the loss of memory shattered his sense of self. The memory of their lovemaking in the prayer garden was a spark of light that warmed him. He hungered for more such memories.

He took the lamp from her and set it on his desk, then cupped her face in his hands, marveling at the silky texture of her skin. She gazed up with brave, vulnerable eyes, her yearning as intense as his.

They had kissed before, but never with such aching tenderness as now, when time was running out with terrible swiftness. Her mouth was honey sweet as they explored each other without haste. He untied the ribbon that held back her glorious hair, freeing the thick tresses to run through his fingers like a river of gold. “I've wanted so much to see you,” he breathed. “All of you.”

She laughed a little. “That desire goes both ways. At our first meeting, I was looking for injuries and bruises and didn't fully appreciate you.” She slid her hand between the overlapping panels of his banyan, her palm warm against his chest.

Sweetness blazed into white heat. He yanked her sash open and stripped the robe away. In the faint light of the two lamps, her figure was alluringly visible through her nightgown.

“Mariah…” Unable to think of any words powerful enough to express her beauty, he skimmed his hands over the graceful curves of her back. She was perfect in her proportions, a petite goddess who melted his wits away. He bent and kissed her breast through the gossamer fabric, feeling her nipple harden under his tongue.

She exhaled sharply as she untied his banyan. It fell open, revealing his nakedness and the hard evidence of his desire. He groaned when she touched him. “Best slow down, my darling, or this will be over too soon.”

“By all means, let us use the whole night.” She tugged the banyan from his shoulders, her fingertips tracing lines of fire down his arms.

He let the garment slide to the floor. He didn't feel the coolness of the night air because the world was all heat and flame. It took only a moment to divest her gown. “This is lovely, but you're lovelier.”

“As are you,” she said as he scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom to lay her on the bed. The lamplight revealed Mariah in all her sensual splendor. Thunder rolled over the house, shaking the furniture, or perhaps that was the pounding of his heart as he joined her on the bed.

“I want to kiss every inch of you.” He pressed his lips to her throat, feeling her rapid pulse as he cupped her breasts.

“There are a lot of inches, but by all means, try,” she murmured as she buried her fingers in his hair and massaged his head. “I can't believe we're really here, together. I was so afraid you'd be wise.”

“With you, my heart is stronger than my reason.” They'd made love before in an unplanned tumble of bodies and emotions. This time they were conscious of their goal, and every caress, every kiss, every soft breath built anticipation. When he touched her intimately, she shivered with pleasure. He started slowly, matching his movements to her arousal until she was gasping and frantic with need. She gave a choked cry when she climaxed, her nails biting into his shoulders.

When her dazed eyes opened, she said, “Now it's time to come together.”

Despite his desperation, he managed to keep control long enough to enter her gently, since this was only her second time. The ecstasy made it almost impossible to hold still while her body adjusted to his presence. Then she exhaled roughly with pleasure and began moving against him.

They swiftly found a rhythm together, as if they had been mates forever, but they also shared the intoxicated wonder of new lovers. She was the mate he had yearned for in years of loneliness, the woman who completed him. He shattered, and she saved him, her spirit encompassing all that he was. “I love you,” he gasped. “For always.”

“And I love you,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. He rolled on his side and drew her close, his arms sheltering against the storm that pounded on London.

The sky itself wept because they loved each other, and it wasn't enough.

As Mariah lay peacefully in Adam's arms, content to be in the moment, he dozed, his face relaxed as it seldom had been since his friends found him in Hartley. She tried to remember how she had seen him at the beginning. Mostly she'd seen bruises and lacerations and foreignness.

She recalled thinking that he might be handsome under the bruises. That had turned out to be an underestimation of major proportions. Adam Darshan Lawford was beautiful, with strong features that blended his mixed heritage into a face that was unique and intriguing. His body also was lovely, graceful and lithe with muscle. Though he'd probably be embarrassed if she told him that.

She liked his darker skin, so much more interesting than her English pallor. She brushed her hand lightly down his side, thinking how intensely real his presence was. It was hard to believe that they would never be together like this again. She didn't want to believe it.

She caressed his cheek, feeling the faint prickle of whiskers. He opened his eyes with a smile. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” she admitted. The rainy night was cool and they lay on top of the covers in their bare skin. She compensated by pressing closer to him. She would not have believed how natural it would feel to lie beside him naked. A lifetime of modesty had vanished in an hour. Would she ever know this closeness with anyone again?

“You look sad.” He brushed her hair back, his hand lingering. “Are you sorry you came here?”

“No.” She tried to smile. “Only sorry this night will end.”

His face tightened, and she saw the grief in his eyes. “A pity we can't make time stop.” A light blanket was folded across the foot of the bed, so he reached down and shook it out over her. “But at least we can be comfortable.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Though you're better than any blanket.”

He grinned as he slid under the cover with her. “We don't want to waste the rest of the night in sleep, do we?”

“I'd rather make more memories.”

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. His eyes laughed at her. “I'm sure you can figure out how to ravish me.”

And she did, finding sweet new variations on lovemaking. Both of them were damp with sweat when she collapsed on him after they had journeyed to madness and returned. “I didn't know passion could be like this,” she gasped. “Or is it just that you're really good at making love, as you're good at so many things?”

He caressed her hips. “I've not known this kind of lovemaking before, either. It comes from both of us. And if that was an oblique question, I haven't had as much experience as you might think.” He smiled wryly. “I was as interested as any young man, but it's always been hard for me to let down the shields. Except with you.”

She crossed her hands on his chest and pillowed her chin on them. “I think I was very lucky to find you when you didn't know who you were. I got to meet the man you were meant to be.”

“I'm trying to be that person more often now.” He rearranged her so that they were lying on their sides, her back tucked into his front and his arm around her waist. They fitted together perfectly.

She tried to stay awake so as not to miss a priceless moment. Adam's regular breathing said that he was asleep. Time was running out….

 

The lamp was burning low when they wakened again. Wordlessly they kissed. This time desire was a slow burn, fueled by the knowledge that this might be the last time, for surely dawn was approaching. When Adam sank into her, Mariah sighed as waves of pleasure radiated through her. Their bodies knew each other by now, and they melded together effortlessly. “I love you,” he whispered. “Never doubt that.”

“I will never forget you.” She opened her eyes, wanting to watch his beloved face—and saw the dark figure of a man looming over Adam with a knife. “Adam!” She kicked wildly at the man with her right foot, managing a glancing blow to his crotch.

“Bitch!” The man fell back, dropping the hand that held the knife. He had a skull tattooed on the back of his hand. “For that,
you
die, too!”

He was lunging forward again when Adam grabbed her around the waist and rolled them both across the bed, away from the attacker. The world jolted as they tumbled off the bed, the blanket falling with them.

Adam twisted so that he fell on the bottom to cushion the impact for her. She landed on top of him, the breath knocked out of her. While she dizzily tried to collect herself, Adam pushed away and sprang to his feet. “Mariah, get back!”

He moved between her and the assassin, crouching defensively as the man circled the bed swearing, lamplight glinting from his blade. Tall, burly, and dressed all in black, the intruder was a nightmare come to life. Adam, naked and unarmed, looked terrifyingly vulnerable by comparison. But he was unafraid as he waited for his opponent to make the first move.

Mariah scrambled to her feet, wondering frantically what she could do. She'd be useless at tackling an armed man.

A blast of cold air revealed an open window. Lord only knew how the intruder had managed that, or how he knew exactly which bedroom to enter. But as she glanced at the window, she saw the bell rope on the far side of the bed. She dove across the bed and yanked the rope over and over, trying to wake every servant in the house.

“She's a good-looking slut. I'll take her after I kill you.” The man sprang forward, slashing the knife with dangerous expertise.

Moving with effortless grace, Adam slid aside and caught his assailant's arm. Pivoting, he hurled the intruder headfirst into the wall.

“Jesus!” the man swore as he staggered to his feet. “You filthy heathen! I'm going to cut you into such small pieces your own mother wouldn't recognize them!”

“What a limited mind you have,” Adam replied, circling. “Do you try to kill mixed-blood dukes for amusement, or are you paid?”

“Both,” the man spat. “Business and pleasure together.” He sprang at Adam, sweeping the knife upward in a disemboweling blow.

Adam wasn't there. Once more he'd slipped away like a shadow, the light playing over his bare skin as if he were a Greek statue in motion. He chopped his hand at the other man's neck. The assassin dodged, but Adam still landed a partial blow.

The door to the dressing room and Wharf's quarters was thrown open with a crash. Wharf and Reg Murphy, the head groom, charged through, both of them carrying pistols. Instantly sizing up the situation, Wharf swore, “Bastard!”