Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (27 page)

He wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her. Simply hold her as he’d done the night they stayed at the hospice. He’d never held a woman for the sheer joy of feeling her pressed against his body and it made him uneasy that he had now.

He scooped up the cards and shuffled them. The carriage rocked, the wheels turning inexorably toward Venice. Nathan tried not to think beyond the moment, but it was becoming more and more difficult as Claire worked her way into his system, taking over rational thought. Venice became less about what he could learn of his father’s death and more about saying good-bye to Claire.

And, damn it, he didn’t want to say good-bye.

“Teach me how to do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

She gestured toward the cards in his hands. “What you did just now.”

“This?” He shuffled again.

“Yes. That. How do you do that?”

He handed her the cards. “It’s called a riffle shuffle. Keep your thumb on the top. Your index and middle fingers form the base to catch the cards.”

“Like this?”

“Here.” He adjusted her fingers, conscious of the fact that they were touching without gloves between them. Of course they’d been touching like that almost from the beginning. Why he noticed it now, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration of the night they spent together and the firm control he’d held over his body, which demanded that he make love to her.

Or maybe it was the realization that Venice was closer than ever and this would be one of the last times he could touch her.

Once they reached their destination, outside forces would separate them. He would continue his pursuit for the answers to his father’s death and Claire would continue her pursuit of …

His simmering anger threatened to erupt whenever he thought of Claire with some nameless, faceless Italian who would do things to her that only Nathan was allowed to do.

“Move your thumbs slowly up the sides and it will riffle on its own,” he said.

Brows lowered in concentration, bottom lip caught between her teeth, she tried to riffle. It started out well, but suddenly the cards popped out of her hand and flew into the air to rain down on them.

Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand, a giggle escaping, then escalating into an all-out belly laugh.

“Oh my.” Her wide eyes filled with mirth. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. She laughed so hard she leaned to the side.

Nathan’s heart did a slow roll and a queer feeling settled in his stomach.

Claire began gathering the cards, still laughing, while Nathan sat there like a fool, watching her.

When she straightened, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her, drawing her laughter into him.

He pulled back to look into her gorgeous eyes.

“What was that for?” she asked a little breathlessly, her gaze searching his face.

“I’m not sure.”

Claire stared at him for a moment before she returned to gathering the cards. “It looked so easy when you shuffled them. How many are there supposed to be? I hope we didn’t lose any because I’d really like to play again. Although I think it prudent that you shuffle instead of me.”

“Claire?”

She stilled before lifting her head to look at him. She handed him the cards in a not-so-neat pile. He took them and set them aside. “Come here.”

“Here? I’m right beside you.”

“I want you closer.”

“We can’t get any clo—Nathan!”

He picked her up and sat her on his lap.

“This is improper.” She smiled, her eyes darkening in a look that he was becoming familiar with and that heated his blood.

He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her hard. She made a sound of surprise before her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back, just as hard, just as demanding, just as desperately as he. Their teeth clashed, their tongues tangled. They pressed against each other as if they could crawl beneath each other’s skin.

Nathan’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on the back of her gown, popping them open one by one. Claire worked on his buttons, pulling away just enough to see what she was doing. Their breaths mingled, turning the inside of the carriage sultry with their desire.

He pushed her gown off her shoulders and untied her stays, yanking on the strings until her breasts were exposed, the nipples pointing upward as if begging for his touch. He rubbed the back of his hands across them. Claire’s head fell back and she moaned, arching her back. Nathan licked one, then the other.

Claire buried her fingers in his hair and tugged. She moved until she straddled his thighs, her gown hiked up to reveal the creamy suppleness of her thighs. Nathan ran his hand up and down her leg, his fingers brushing the dark curls hidden beneath her drawers.

She rocked, each motion bringing forth a harsh pant. Nathan put one hand on the small of her back to keep her from falling and slid a finger of his other hand into her drawers, finding that they were wet with her desire. He bit back a groan and forced himself to keep still else he would grind his aching staff against her.

He ran his finger over her slit. She cried out, stilling before resuming her rocking motion. He put his finger against her nub and watched, fascinated as she rubbed against the pad of his finger. Her hands clutched his shoulders and he found he was panting with her, his cock straining against the confines of his breeches. He feared that if he moved at all, he would embarrass himself by coming right then and there.

Small mewling noises escaped her. She looked at him but her eyes were glazed and focused inward.

“Come for me, love.”

She cried out, rocking harder, grinding her nub onto his finger. He slid another one in and she groaned.

“You can do it,” he whispered.

Her hips jerked faster. Her hands clutched his shoulders harder. She opened her mouth and a low scream emerged. Nathan surged forward and swallowed her scream with his kiss.

For long moments she remained still, gasping for breath until she slowly lowered her head. “Oh my word. Oh my word.”

Nathan smiled even though his cock hurt so badly he was certain his bollocks were blue.

She slumped forward, resting her head on his shoulder as she waited for her breathing to even out. Eventually she lifted her head. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She slid to the side and slumped on the seat next to him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Her hand brushed his aching cock. Nathan captured her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“You need release too,” she whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.” She wiggled her hand from his and pressed it against his engorged erection.

Against his will he moaned. He’d been content to let her find her release. Well, not content, but accepting. Until she touched him. He widened his legs as she explored the length and breadth of him.

His hips pushed upward, searching for more.

Claire undid his breeches and pulled him out, cradling his cock in her hands. He looked down, deciding it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, her pale hands against the angry red of his cock. His veins were bulging, his head pulsing. A bead of semen covered the tip. Claire ran her thumb across it, smearing it, causing him to groan and his cock to jump. He was so hard his skin was stretched taut.

Her thumb lazily swiped back and forth. Nathan laid his head back, unable to take his eyes off her fingers. Slowly she danced them down his cock, then back up.

“Show me what to do,” she said.

He licked his lips, finding it difficult to speak. “You’re doing just fine.”

“I want to learn. Teach me.”

He took her hand and showed her how to circle his cock and rub it up and down. Just like in piquet, she caught on quickly. On her own she figured out to vary her rhythm. Fast one moment. Slow the next. Barely touching, then pressing down.

Nathan rolled his head to the side, groaning with each thrust, hips pumping in rhythm. The fact that she was avidly watching was more erotic than anything he’d ever experienced before. Her curiosity, her naiveté was his undoing.

“Claire. Stop.”

Her fingers moved faster until his hips were coming off the seat and he was pumping into her hand. His groans escalated.

He shouted, clutching the seat on either side of him as he lost all control. His semen shot up into the air so hard he saw spots before his eyes. His climax seemed never ending and he swore his heart stopped beating for long moments.

He was amazed that the coach continued on, that the driver hadn’t heard them and stopped to see what was amiss. Then again, he was relieved the coach carried on for he didn’t feel he was able to move.

Claire looked up at him with a wicked smile. Nathan was too depleted to do anything but smile back. For long moments they sat side by side, partially undressed, the smell of their lovemaking permeating the coach.

Eventually Claire moved and Nathan cleaned himself up using his handkerchief and buttoned his breeches. Claire turned and brushed her hair over her shoulder so Nathan could button her gown. He felt a pang of remorse, not because they’d just made love in a moving
coach, but because he wanted more afternoons like this. He wanted to button her gowns for the rest of their lives after he made clandestine love to her in various places.

But the fact was they were closer than ever to Venice. And to parting.

Silence fell between them. Not the comforting sort they experienced in the cabin. Claire moved to the other side of the coach and looked out the window, her fingers twisting the folds of her gown. Nathan picked up the cards that had fallen on the floor during their lovemaking and shuffled them for something to do with his hands.

Finally she drew in a deep breath and looked at him. “We must stop this.”

“Stop what? Playing piquet?”

“You know what I’m talking about. We can’t continue this …”

“This what?”

“Whatever happened between us, it can’t happen again.”

For the first time, his hands fumbled the cards and one fell to the ground. They both ignored it while he continued to shuffle. “Why?”

“Please don’t make this more difficult.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft shuffling of the cards. If he put the deck down, he would touch her and he was almost positive that touching her would not be a good thing right now.

“I like you, Claire.”

Her lips thinned and he had a feeling he’d said the wrong thing.

“That’s nice,” she said primly.

Nice? He’d just told her something he’d never told another woman before and she thought it
nice
?

“What will happen when we reach Venice?” he asked.

She looked away. “You will find the answers regarding your father’s death and I will find Gabrielle.”

“And the lover you’re searching for?”

Her gaze flew to his and the color in her face deepened to a dull red. “That’s a highly improper question.”

“Is it?” He leaned forward, his anger barely restrained. “Because you see, Claire, I don’t find it improper. Not after what we experienced. In fact, I find it very proper, indeed. I’d like to
know what
my
lover’s plans are.”

Her fingers convulsed in her lap. “Please don’t do this.”

Anger roared through him, so hot and potent that he was surprised the snow outside the carriage didn’t melt. He pounded the seat beside him. “Damn it, Claire! I don’t want you to find another lover.
I
want to be your lover.”

“Oh, Nathan.” She pressed a hand to her closed eyes. “This is so complicated.”

“I find it very simple. We enjoy each other’s company, do we not?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then where is the complication?”

She lowered her hand to pin him with a defeated look. “For all my talk of wanting to break free of society’s restraints, I find I can’t fully separate myself from the rules I grew up with. Finding an Italian lover is one thing.” Her hands fluttered about her then fell to her lap. “That’s … fleeting. Temporary. But to return to England, to flaunt society’s rules so openly, I can’t do that. To my brothers or to you.”

He almost laughed.
She
worried about
his
reputation? What reputation other than that of a gambler, a drunkard and a rake? And then the words he’d been fighting came out and he found that he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to say them. “Who said anything about us living a scandalous life?”

Her head jerked up and she looked at him with her lips parted in what he assumed was shock. “What are you saying?”

What
was
he saying? And yet it was perfectly clear what he was saying. He didn’t want Claire as a lover. He didn’t want to be forced to hide his feelings from society. He didn’t want clandestine meetings and hurried rendezvous. He didn’t want her to live a life of scandal. He wanted her permanently, legally and in the religious sense.

“I’m saying I want to marry you.”

Her eyes widened and the color drained from her face. She swayed. Turbulent silence swirled around them. Like the moments before a summer storm hit, the atmosphere became charged.

“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.

Nathan refused to show emotion, keeping a tight rein on the acute disappointment that stabbed through him.

“When Richard died I swore I would never marry again. I told myself that a convent would be far better than marriage.”

“So becoming a nun is better than being married to me. I understand. The owner of a gaming hell isn’t husband material.” He’d opened his business knowing it would destroy any chance of procuring an acceptable wife and he’d been fine with his decision. But after knowing Claire, he realized what a mistake he’d made. Not all women were like his mother.

“No!” She grabbed his hand. “No. That’s not it at all. If there’s one thing I learned it’s that marriage to a respectable man doesn’t mean anything. You’ve taught me that a person’s reputation isn’t necessarily the same as what’s inside. It’s just … Richard—”

“Richard’s dead, Claire. He can’t hurt you anymore.”