Shameless (31 page)

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Authors: Karen Robards

Tags: #American Light Romantic Fiction, #Romance, #Literary, #Regency fiction, #Romance - Regency, #Romantic suspense fiction, #Romance - Historical, #Fiction, #Regency, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #Sisters, #American Historical Fiction, #General, #Fiction - Romance

BOOK: Shameless
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“Not afraid anymore, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse but his tone was tender as his hand slid with warm surety up the silken skin of her inner thigh. The purposeful caress made her tremble. She knew where he was going, knew where he meant to touch her next, and the prospect drove her wild. Her breasts swelled, begging eagerly for his kisses. Her thighs trembled and fell open with wanting. She could feel his hand on her skin like a brand, moving so slowly, too slowly, toward that part of her that was dying for his touch.

“Not with you.” From the unevenness of her voice, she realized that her breathing was ragged.

Most unexpectedly, she heard an unfamiliar sound and realized to her surprise that it was his teeth snapping together. At the same time his hand stilled on its silken path, his fingers tightening suddenly on her thigh so that she could feel the full size and strength of them as they burned into her flesh. For the briefest of moments he didn’t move, but stayed perfectly still, as if he had turned to stone between one instant and the next. The harsh rasping sound she heard was, she realized, his breathing.

“Neil?” Perplexed, she strained to see him through the darkness.

As if her voice broke whatever spell had been holding him frozen
in place, he swore, horribly, then lifted his hand from her thigh and rolled away from her, just like that, as though she had suddenly broken out in a rash of thorns. Though she gaped in his direction, she might as well have been blind for anything she could see. But she could feel him beside her, mere inches away because the confines of the space they were in would permit nothing more, and got the sense that he was now lying on his back with his arm flung over his eyes. Desire had turned the small space warm, steamy even. The greatcoat on which they lay felt plush as a rug. Tension hummed between them like an invisible, electrifying force. Every instinct she possessed bade her close the scant distance separating them—but she hesitated.

“Neil?” Instead, she laid a questioning hand on his arm. To her surprise she felt a tremor rack the hard muscle. “Is something wrong?” Her voice turned small and uncertain suddenly, and she hated the way it sounded. Hated the vulnerability she detected in it.

He pulled his arm free of her touch. “What did you mean, ‘not with you’?”

“What?” The sense of his words barely registered. Her heart still pounded, her blood still raced, her body still burned. The almost unpalatable truth was that she wanted him to keep on with loving her—though he, apparently, had no such intention.

“I asked you if you were not afraid of sex anymore, and you said, not with you. I want to know what you meant by that.”

“Oh.” Remembering her own words, Beth flushed. Praise the Lord he could not see! In fact, that was the only saving grace in the whole situation, she decided. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly became aware that her skirts were twisted around her waist. Her bodice had been pulled down well past her breasts. She was to all intents and purposes naked, lying on her back with her legs sprawled indecently apart and the wetness from his mouth drying on her breasts. As she realized the enormity of what she had let him do, the full scope of the intimacies she had allowed him to take, the heat in her face intensified and spread until she was certain she must be blushing all over. Mortified, she quickly and quietly did what she could to restore herself to decency, then scooted
as far away from him as it was possible to get, until she was on her side with her back pressed against the stone slab that blocked them in. She, who had so dreaded physical intimacy that the very thought of having to endure the marriage bed was enough to make her turn sick to her stomach, had almost given herself to this man—this unrepentant criminal. It was unbelievable, but it was true. Disgracefully, her lips still yearned for more kisses, and her body yearned, too, for more kisses and caresses and everything else he had done to her. No, everything they had done together. There was no point in pretending that he had forced her, or that she had been anything less than a willing, nay, eager participant. And the worst part of the whole thing was, she wasn’t even glad he had stopped. Not yet. Not while her heart still pounded and her blood still raced and her body still hungered for his taking.

“ ‘Oh’ is not an answer.” He sounded testy. They were no longer touching in any way, but she could feel his presence as acutely as if she were plastered against his side. “And I would have one, if you please.”

“Very well, then. I meant what I said.” The honesty that had always been one of her foremost virtues—or besetting sins, as Twindle would have had it—combined with pride to rise to her rescue, infusing her with a slightly defiant courage. Indeed, she scorned to try to turn what had just happened between them into anything less than the truly momentous revelation it had been. Whatever this most unexpected attraction that had sprung up between them owed its existence to, the fact was that it did exist. Because of that, because she could not rid herself of her fear that they were never going to get out of there, and because even now where she most wanted to be was back in his arms, she would give him the truth with no bark on it, and to the devil with the consequences.

“Would you care to explain that so it’s a little clearer?”

“I would have thought it was perfectly clear, but if you need it spelled out for you, then fine: Just as you guessed, I have not cared to be kissed, or”—and here, despite her determination, she stammered slightly—“or handled, by any gentleman. Except, for some reason I am at a loss to explain, I don’t seem to feel that aversion with you.”

“God in heaven.” Her confession did not seem to please him.

She frowned, affronted. “You asked me a question, and I answered it. If you didn’t want the truth, you shouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t think you quite grasp what almost happened here. A few moments more and I would have had your damned virginity.” Instead of merely testy, he now sounded downright angry. “What you ought to be doing right about now is slapping my face. At the very least.”

Chapter Twenty-two

“W
HAT GOOD WOULD THAT DO
? Anyway, you did nothing I wasn’t willing for you to do.” With that gruff admission, Beth folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, if we are going to die, whether or not I am a virgin when it happens doesn’t much matter, does it?”

Neil gave vent to a series of soft but fluent curses. By the time he finished she was glaring at him through the darkness.

“And what was that in aid of, pray?”

“We are not going to die, damn it. And you need to understand this: You were willing because I made you willing. I know what pleases women and I knew what would please you and I did those things to you deliberately so that you would let me have my wicked way with you. If you would know the truth, I’ve been contemplating seducing you almost since I first set eyes on you.”

“Then why did you stop?”

There was a pause.

“Because I have a shred of decency left to me, it seems. And you
should thank your lucky stars I do. Otherwise you would now be my mistress, and utterly and completely ruined.”

“If we survive, I am probably ruined anyway. I doubt my credit will survive this.”

“Am I to understand from that that I need have no scruples?” he asked sardonically.

“None at all.”

Dead silence greeted that.

“You, my girl, are a menace.” She got the impression that now he was speaking through his teeth. “Fortunately for you, I’ve discovered a most unexpected aversion to deflowering virgins, however bloody-minded they may be.”

“Are you calling
me
bloody-minded—” Beth broke off as the sense of what she had just heard penetrated. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never, ah, um”—the unaccustomed frankness of the conversation caused her to stutter again, to her annoyance—“deflowered a virgin?”

“What I have or have not done in that area is nothing I mean to discuss with you.”

“You haven’t, have you?”

“Damn it, Beth, leave it. The subject is closed.”

By now her heart had slowed to something approximating its normal rhythm, and her blood flowed through her veins more or less as it was wont to do. The carnal desire he had most astoundingly roused in her was easing, and she had little doubt that if nothing more occurred to feed it, it would soon fade to a delicious memory. But what she would carry with her always, for however long or short always was, was the knowledge that she could feel that way, that she could contemplate the marital act with delight rather than dread, that rousing a man’s lust meant experiencing it along with him rather than subjecting herself to it.

His abandoned seduction had, in fact, freed her of the shackles that had kept her from fully living the life she wanted to live.

The key, of course, as Claire had repeatedly told her, lay in finding the right man.

“Neil,” she said softly into the silence that, disturbed only by their uneven breathing, had spun out between them, “thank you.”

“Thank you?” He sounded wary.

“Yes.”

“You’re welcome. You should know that stopping when I did was damned hard. In fact, it’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.”

Beth smiled into the darkness. “Oh, I wasn’t thanking you for stopping when you did, although I do see now that it was probably for the best. But you’ve changed everything for me: if we get out of this alive, if by some miracle I am not totally ruined, if I can go back to London and my life continues on as before, I can actually marry the next gentleman to whom I become betrothed. That’s why I was thanking you: I see I need no longer avoid marriage for fear of—of the intimacies of the marriage bed.”

“Oh my God.” It was a groan. “That is not what I needed to hear.” He moved restively, and Beth got the feeling that he was in the throes of doing battle with some inner demon. “I see why I’ve never acted the gentleman before now: it’s too damned difficult.”

“Is it?”

“Hell, yes. And you are not helping, and you know it. You think I don’t want to love you so much that denying myself is well-nigh killing me? ’Tis your well-being I’m thinking of here.” The rough edge to his voice sent a delicious shiver racing over her skin. “And then you go and tell me that I’ve made it possible for some other man to—”

A sound from somewhere beyond their small prison made Beth stiffen. Even as her senses went on alert and her head swung questioningly toward it, a familiar, devoutly welcome voice pierced the darkness.

“We be back! We brought ’elp!”

“Thank God.” Eagerly, Beth turned over to face the cabin and raised her voice in answer. “Mary!”

“Miss! Be ye and ’is worship all right?”

“We’re fine,” Neil yelled. “Is Creed with you?”

“No,” Mary replied, but before she could continue a strange male voice shouted cheerfully, “Mr. Creed’s away, but it don’t matter. There’s a group of us here, and we’ll get you out right and tight. From the looks of things, it’ll be takin’ some time, though.”

“Who are you?” Neil called back. Beth thought she heard a hint of wariness in his voice, and a different kind of tension emanated from him now. Of course, they were no longer insulated from the outside world. Was it possible that the cheerful voice belonged to one of their pursuers from the castle? At the thought, Beth’s heart started to beat a little faster for an entirely different reason than before.

“Name’s Tandy. We’ll be getting the others out first, a-cause you’re under a heaping pile o’ rock, and them, not so much. You just hang on, you and the lady, and leave all to us.”

There seemed nothing else to do. Frowning out toward the cavern where she could hear faint thuds, as if of rocks landing after being flung aside, Beth heard a smaller, metallic sound directly behind her and glanced back toward Neil.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice was scarce louder than a whisper, and she realized it was because she feared being overheard by their rescuers. Which was ridiculous. She could hear none of their conversation or noise beyond those muffled crashes. Still, some atavistic instinct made her cautious.

“Getting the pistols. I took them out of my pocket before I gave you my greatcoat and tucked them out of the way. They’re empty, curse the luck, but no one needs to know that. I’ve used empty pistols to back men off before.”

Beth’s stomach tightened. “Do you think you’ll need to back them off? Who do you think they are?”

“In all likelihood, honest men. But it pays to be prepared.” He reached out for her, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. “From the sound of it, they’re not being overly careful. ’Tis safer here in the back against the wall, in case they should trigger another rock fall.”

That was a frightening possibility Beth hadn’t yet thought of.

“Neil . . . ”

“Worrying is a waste of time. At this juncture there’s nothing to be done but wait until they dig us out, then deal with what we find.” His arm was hard around her waist, and she could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest against her back. Then he moved, changing positions, taking her with him. Once again they ended up in the most comfortable position they could find, with him on his back with his arm around her and his chest pillowing her head. Lying against him, listening to the continuous low thunder of noise that now emanated from the cabin, Beth found herself craving fresh air, and longing for the moment when they would be freed from the claustrophobic space.

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