Sea Scoundrel (34 page)

“I know, but since I’l never marry, I’l never know what it’s like to experience what you said. You know.”
He knew
. His body surely did. It snapped to attention the moment she mentioned it.

Patience rol ed to her side, head in her hand. “I don’t
want
to spend my life not knowing.”

She scared him speechless. He put distance between them and got comfortable in the chair.

“This is the perfect opportunity for my education, Grant, tonight, here with you.”

“Damn and blast, Patience. They should have named you Eve. Go to sleep.”

“It should be
you
who teaches me, because we’re friends.”
Tell my body we’re only friends.

Grant wished he were dressed so he could run out into the night. And if he did, he would be screaming, because he would be insane if he ran now.

She came to kneel before him. “Please, Grant?” Her throaty whisper made her al the more al uring. A man would have to be made of marble to withstand something like this. He closed his eyes. Perhaps if he ignored her.

She pul ed his blanket away, ran her hands up his legs, and unbuttoned the placket on his trousers. When she stopped, Grant released his breath.

And Patience released him. She gasped. “That’s no little thing!”

He opened his eyes.

She was staring at his erection, eyes wider than saucers.

“It isn’t when you’re around.” He couldn’t even put it away at this point.

“But Grant, its huge.”

“I explained that, Patience. I told you it gets hard so—”

“Hard, yes, but it’s so long it practical y reaches across the room. How much longer is it going to get?” If her eyes got any wider ... “Patience.” He laughed. “Stop being so—”

“Look! It’s getting smal er.”

He tried to cover himself. “Because your foolish chatter distracted me from your foolish suggestion.”

“How does it feel when it changes size? Is it uncomfortable?”

He turned away from her and pul ed the blanket over his shoulder. This was going to be a damned long night. “Get back into bed, Patience, and go to sleep.” She pul ed the blanket off him and put her hand on his thighs to turn him toward her. “No, now this is interesting, I want to see how it works.” She made quick work of removing his trousers.

God, he loved her. But he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. He could not afford to let himself.

Patience sensed his weakening resolve. With a finger, she stroked the hard-muscled length of his leg to his thigh, then along his rigid shaft.

He shuddered, ecstasy and panic assaulting him in turn.

“You’d better stop, Patience.”

She ignored his warning, for she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. In a daring move, she palmed his throbbing shaft, then, when she closed her fingers around it, it seemed to fil her hand. “It feels alive,” she whispered, watching it.

“Sweetheart ...” Grant’s voice was hoarse. He shuddered again, then he raised his hips almost involuntarily. In a move of surrender, he put his hand over hers, as if to guide her. When she understood the unspoken instruction and did as he bid, he closed his eyes, the look on his face an agony. “Do you feel what I felt when you touched me that night on the settee?” she asked, the experience of him under her hand, the look on his face, causing turbulence in her own body.

“Yes.” He didn’t open his eyes.

“But for me it was the first time.”

He stopped her movement and tried to catch his breath. “I have never been turned inside out like this before,” he whispered. “No, don’t move. I don’t want to lose control.” Patience stood and extended her hand. “Come, Grant. I want to lie with you. Just this once. You’l never have to again.”

Have to? He’d die if he didn’t. And the thought of
never
again
scared him to death. He fol owed her to the bed, watching as she removed the gown. When she held her arms open to him, Grant thought the pounding in his head, heart, and nether regions, nearly unbearable.

He groaned and gave up the fight.

He got in beside her, kissed her hungrily, and rode a sweet, high wave with each seductive movement of her body. He skimmed his hands up her legs to her waist, the sides of her breasts. Facing her, his body against hers, skin to skin, heaven.

“Grant, I never imagined ...” She slid her body along his, as if testing the experience.

He took her mouth again and again. He suckled her and teased her with his need against her apex, until she rose seeking him, moist and ready for his entrance. He didn’t want to rush her, to hurt her, but he was nearly past control.

Those mewling sounds low in her throat, and her gravel y voice urging him on, were driving him mad. God help him, he was on the verge of completion and he hadn’t entered her yet.

Patience whimpered. “Please now, Grant. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He poised himself above her. “It’l hurt at first. Then it’l be so good, so very good.” As he teased her entrance with his hand, moonlight flooded the room, and he saw, reflected in her eyes, passion and more.

An army battering the door could not have stopped him at that moment, but the message in Patience’s eyes did. Her look was open and trusting, and he didn’t deserve it.

He loved her too much to ruin her. Too much to give her false hope. And there could never be marriage. Never.

With an oath, Grant jumped from the bed, stubbed his toe, and swore profusely as he limped across the room. As far across as he could get.

Shocked, disappointed, relieved, and on the verge of tears, Patience watched his agonized movements, his uneasy gait as he paced. His manhood in profile stood enormous and proud.

Why had he stopped? “What happened, Grant?”

“You deserve better.”

She guessed she should be pleased. Except she felt like crying. She had ached so for his touch; she stil did. By the looks of him, he ached as wel .

That he’d relieved her need that night on the settee just by touching her made her wonder if ... Patience rose and went to him. They stared at one another, the tension between them so thick it was a wonder something didn’t snap. She wasn’t certain if she could ease him the same way he had her, but he’d said something about losing control a while ago. She touched his throbbing shaft to test her theory.

He jumped as if he’d been struck. “Don’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

She walked up behind him, put her hands on the taut muscles of his arms and kneaded them al the way to his rigid, set shoulders. “Just let me touch you, Grant. Let me bring you pleasure with my touch, like you did for me that night.”

He turned to look at her in surprise. She teased him again with her fingers and he closed his eyes, releasing a long, slow breath. A yes.

She took his hand, led him to the bed, and lay down to receive him. Once again, he lay beside her, kissing her, touching her. He guided her hands to himself as he suckled her, whispered encouragement as he brought her pleasure, cal ed her name as she stroked him.

She loved him so much. Surely they soared nearly as high as they would were they united in body. No other moment had been as splendid as this. They traded movements, blended rhythm, beginning slowly, moving faster, higher.

Waves crashed, receded, flowed again. They rose the crests together to the very peak, then glided against the shore to rest.

Hands stil ed but did not move away. Bodies shifted to be as close as any two could be. They shared slow, lazy kisses until, they succumbed to sleep.

When Patience woke alone, it was gone on noon.

In the pitcher, she discovered hot water, in the bowl, a cake of scented soap. Grateful for the privacy, for her face burned hot as her memories, Patience washed quickly, dressed and went downstairs. She couldn’t quite look into Grant’s eyes when they met. He indicated her breakfast before he went to order the carriage. She ate quickly then fol owed him outside. No good morning had been said before they were on their way.

They rode for a long time each looking out opposite windows.

“Patience, about last night.”

She cursed her fair skin for revealing her discomfort, looked down and played with the gloves in her lap.

Grant cleared his throat. “There
is
something special between us. You said so yourself on the ship the night before we arrived. Unlike you, I think it’s more than friendship.”

She looked up at him.

“I think we could come to a comfortable ... understanding, one that would be equitable to us both.” A buzzing fil ed her head. “Understanding?”

“Wel , yes. Since neither of us wishes to marry.”

“You’re right, of course, there is nothing equitable about marriage, but I don’t understand.”

Grant crossed one leg over the other, examined the toe of his boot. “You want a house in the country. I have several.

Pick the one you wish. It wil be my gift to you. Live there with your kitten and rose garden. When I’m in England, I wil come and ... stay with you. I wil also give you a yearly al owance. Say, five thousand pounds.” He final y looked at her. “If that isn’t sufficient, we can—”

“Stay with me?” Something horrible was happening in the region of her heart.

Grant shifted uncomfortably. “Sleep with you.” It took a minute for Patience to believe she heard what she thought she did. “You
are
a black-hearted devil. You offensive, presumptuous, fool. You’re asking me to be your lightskirt. Your mistress!”

“It’s the perfect—”

“You miserable ... I could push you out the door and watch you rol down the hil , to land, hopeful y, beneath the wheels of a passing carriage.”

“Patience, be reasonable. Last night you wanted me. We wanted each other.”

“I wanted you for my lover. I would never be your mistress.

There’s a difference.”

“There certainly is. A house and five thousands pounds a year.”

“Last night you refused to take my maidenhead even once, now you want to do that every night?”

“That’s impossible. You only have one.” His merriment infuriated her. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you scoundrel. If you ever touch me again, I’l , I’l tel my aunt what we did last night.” As if she would.

She’d like to kick him where Sophie said she should.

Stopping only for quick bites, personal needs, and team changes, they drove al day and into the night night. Hardly a word passed between them.

When they arrived at Brian’s, everyone was waiting.

Patience, in no mood to be nice, ignored civilities and regarded Angel. “Stil wearing traveling clothes, I see.

Good. That must mean you didn’t stop the night. Now we can have the marriage annul ed. Just as wel .” She turned to Dickon. “You may go.”

To her consternation, the man laughed. “The marriage wil stand.” He leaned close to Patience’s ear. “Angel expects a babe in seven months time.”

Feeling suddenly light-headed, Patience slipped into the nearest chair.
It’s a bloody disease.

Angel knelt before her, so beautiful, so fil ed with remorse, but so obviously in love. “Patience, please forgive me.

Dickon and I have loved each other for so long. I don’t care if Mama’s angry, and Dickie wil pay you the bonus she promised.”

Patience’s anger melted. She hugged Angel. “I don’t care about the money, Angel. I care about you.” Al their silent tension snapped.

The marriage, approved by Patience, was celebrated with happy chatter. In the midst of it, Patience watched Grant nod a good-bye to Aunt Harriette and his father and leave the room.

She retired shortly after.

Aunt Harriette came to see her. “How far did you travel, looking for them.”

“Scotland.”

“Oh, my. I thought they’d be in a nearby town seeking a chapel. I’ve been beside myself. I never expected the trip to take so long. I don’t suppose you stayed with friends of Grant’s overnight?”

The question came with such a look of hope, Patience smiled. “We stayed at an inn in Gretna Green, the Queen’s Head.”

“Gretna Green. Oh my.” Her aunt sat and pul ed at her handkerchief. “Lady Caroline Crowley-Smyth has cal ed asking for you. She saw you and Grant leave Wednesday.” Patience sighed. Lady Caroline Crowley-Smyth, just what she needed.

* * *

Grant replayed their last hours over in his head. Where had he gone wrong?

In the carriage, after he’d offered Patience carte blanche and been refused, he’d wanted to bring her back to him, to keep this horrid sense of defeat from devouring him, but Patience’s look said he’d gambled and lost.

Something told him it had been the largest stake of his life.

And now, after being cal ed to the library by his father, he began to ponder the merits of mutiny. He liked even less that his father stood while he was made to, “Sit!” The fact that Patience had also been cal ed shot a frisson of apprehension through him.

As if some form of consolation was necessary, her aunt patted Patience’s hand as she sat beside her on the settee.

Grant’s apprehension swel ed.

The ormolu clock ticked conspicuously—like time running out. Lord, he wished he hadn’t thought of that.

Brian cleared his throat as he paced, wrists crossed behind his back. He raised his chin as he stopped, staring his son down.

Grant refused to tug at his strangling cravat. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was about to face severe disciplinary action. But until today, his father had never cared enough about his sons to discipline them, so Grant didn’t know what to expect.

His father rocked on his heels, cleared his throat, looked to Patience’s Aunt for a nod of encouragement, and sighed.

“Harriette and I have discussed this problem at length and have come to a conclusion.”

Grant clenched his fists and ignored his heart’s rapid beat.

“Problem?”

Patience’s forced laugh revealed her trepidation. “There is no problem, Aunt.”

Damn, she was every bit as agitated as he. Oh, there was a problem al right. If only he knew what it was.

“There is a problem,” Brian said, echoing his thoughts. “A serious one. The two of you have spent the night at a public inn.” He looked from one of them to the other as if waiting for denial.