Tanya Anne Crosby (16 page)

“D
o you trust me, Chloe?” Merrick asked her.

She did.

Chloe nodded, trusting him to do whatever he wished to her.

His finger slid deep within her body and she lifted her hips to accept it, delighting in the feel of it.

But she wanted more.

His breath sounding labored, he slid up the length of her body, taking possession of her mouth once more, suckling her lips, nibbling them gently. Chloe tried to kiss him back, uncertain how to respond, not knowing how even to touch him to return the sensations. But she vowed to try. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, caressing. Her mouth kissed his salty flesh, lapping timidly.

And then she felt it…the pressure of his manhood begging entrance to her body, and she shud
dered violently, knowing that once she gave this to him it would never be hers again to give.

Still…she wanted this more than she wanted to breathe.

Begging with her body, she undulated beneath him, coaxing him inside her. He answered with a low moan deep in the back of his throat and she smiled to herself, hoping that it felt as wonderful for him as it did for her. He glided into the depths of her with excruciating slowness. Chloe cried out in pleasure, not in pain, as his shaft filled her completely.

Dear God…this…this was heaven. This…was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

She wanted it never to end.

“Christ, Chloe, you feel so good,” he whispered against her cheek. He began to rock gently against her, stroking her inside until she thought it would make her mad.

Merrick was beside himself with joy.

It might be his body filling hers, but she filled up his heart and his soul. Gently he placed his hands beneath her bottom and rocked himself inside her, controlling his thrusts as he pushed slowly deeper. He lengthened his stride, his body trembling in anticipation of giving her his seed.

“I love you,” he said, and meant it.

“I love you,” she whispered, in the heat of passion, and his heart squeezed painfully.

She didn’t know him.

How could she love him?

She just hadn’t realized yet that everything about him was a bloody lie.

Still, he reveled in her words, vowing he would make it up to her. Hearing her whisper those three little words sent him into a fog of passion. He thrust into her once more, his mouth catching and devouring her soft whimper of surprise. When her legs entwined about his waist, he was lost. In that instant, even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped himself; he thrust again and again and again…

Chloe never wanted the moment to end.

For the rest of her life she wanted to feel lost in his loving, safe in his arms. She met his every thrust with one of her own, praying that she was giving him as much pleasure as he was giving her. Pleasure coiled like a snake through her body…building a sensation she needed desperately to explore. She closed her eyes and followed it to some place she’d never dared go. She sought it with every undulation of her hips, every gasping breath, and when, at last, her body convulsed around him, she cried out in absolute joy.

With a final violent thrust, he spilled himself inside her. His cries of pleasure gave Chloe a sense of completion such as she’d never understood until this very instant.

When it was over, they lay holding one another, neither able to speak.

They fell asleep basking in the afterglow of their loving.

It was Merrick who awoke at first light, knowing he couldn’t remain lest he bring her greater scandal. But he didn’t want to leave without loving her once more. He needed to feel her body wrapped about him once again, gripping him like velvet steel.

He kissed her throat, her mouth…

She stirred awake and he settled his arm about her waist, pulling her atop his chest, so that she lay sleepily with her head atop his shoulder. She peered up at him groggily and smiled. Merrick thought it was the most beautiful smile he had ever witnessed.

“Good morning,” she murmured, and tried to rise. He stilled her with a hand to her back and she settled atop him, sighing softly.

“Good morning, flower,” he said, and grinned at her, shifting her weight atop him so that his throbbing shaft was poised at the entrance of her body. He heard her soft gasp but her hands merely wrapped about his neck in answer. Closing his eyes, Merrick thrust upward, entering her in one swift movement.

He loved her until he could bear it no longer, stroking her from within. She cried out softly,
panting. He felt her begin to convulse about him and with a last surge he brought them both to a joint completion. He held her a long moment and then rolled her from atop him, lying her gently upon her back. He rose from the bed, kissing her thoroughly.

Chloe sighed, perfectly content.

Never in her life had she felt such incredible joy…such adoration for another human being.

As she lay there, basking in the light of his gaze, she hoped he would look at her this way always. Never in her life had she felt such a connection to another soul.

Gloriously naked, he fumbled with his clothing, dressing before her, watching her the entire while he dressed. Unashamed, Chloe watched him back, in silence, afraid to ruin the moment. She knew he must leave, but she didn’t want him to go.

He withdrew something from his coat before putting it on. It was the ring he’d asked her to give to his mother.

He sat upon the bed and looked at her soberly. “Chloe, this is yours,” he said, kissing her tenderly upon the forehead. He whispered, “Until I can make it right…” He laid it down upon the pillow beside her.

When he was gone, she felt his absence like a terrible void. For the longest time she could only lay there, contemplating the night’s consequences.

She was no longer a virgin, but she didn’t care. She had long adored his heart. Now she loved his body and mind, as well. There could be no one else for her.

Ever.

Chloe studied the ring he’d left upon the pillow, wondering whose crest it bore. It wasn’t the MacEwen coat of arms, she knew. Their crest, wrapped with a ribbon of tartan, adorned the drawing room wall for all to see.

She considered briefly whether she should show it to Lady Fiona, and decided not to. At least until she understood its significance, it was best to keep it to herself.

Ian had asked her to trust him and she would.

She trusted him with her life.

Fiona hadn’t emerged from her room all day.

With the door closed, she sat upon her bed with the account ledgers piled on every side of her and on the floor surrounding the bed. After Edward had delivered the bookkeeping that morning, she’d given orders that not even Chloe should disturb her.

To her dismay, she’d yet to come across one book that wasn’t altered. Edward had either worked furiously and had finished the majority of the changes before she’d asked him to stop, or he’d
blatantly disobeyed her and had continued to adjust them even after she’d asked him not to.

But why would he do so unless he had something to hide?

The thought left her ill at ease. She had trusted Edward implicitly, not merely with the household ledgers, but with far more information than she should have.

There was nothing in any of the books that was even remotely similar to the entries she’d found in the one she’d uncovered in his office, but something didn’t seem right about them. They had been altered in the manner she’d requested, but he’d given them to her all out of order and it was difficult to study them randomly. She began to organize the ledgers according to date—no easy task since they represented nearly thirty years of accounting. It took her the majority of the day to assemble the piles by year. In the end, the piles were not even. Each pile should reflect the number of months in a year. Some piles contained merely six books, others eight.

There were quite a lot of books still missing.

Hoping to get to the bottom of it all, Fiona got into bed, settled herself so that it wouldn’t appear she’d been up and about, then rang for Edward to come.

He was quick to arrive. He rapped sharply upon the door.

“Come in,” Fiona commanded him.

He did as she bade him and came inside, closing the door behind him. “Yes, madame?”

Fiona frowned at him. “Edward,” she said, uncertain what, precisely, to say. She didn’t wish to accuse him unjustly. “There seem to be a few ledgers missing.”

He peered about the room, noting the twenty-seven neat piles and asked, “Missing, madame?”

“Yes.” She slipped out of the bed, determined to show him what she had found. “Look… Eighteen twenty, eighteen twenty-three, twenty-four and twenty-five all have piles of merely six.” She was speaking of the year of their creation. “Eighteen twenty-eight and twenty-nine both have only eight—June and November are missing. And eighteen twenty-nine and thirty are both missing February, June and November!”

Edward stared at the uneven piles, his expression perfectly blank. It gave her pause.

“Well… I must have simply overlooked the others,” he said at last. “There were so many, madame.” His expression seemed suddenly wounded. “You did not think I would keep them from you, did you?”

“Of course not!” Fiona felt instantly chagrined for having suspected him. “Yes, of course you overlooked them!” she declared. Whatever had she been thinking? “Please have them delivered to me
straightaway,” she directed him, lifting one of the books to pore over while she waited. It had been far, far too long since she’d involved herself with the household finances. It had always depressed her to know how little control she’d had over her own estate—and more, how little she was able to give her son. And so she’d eschewed the task completely, leaving it to Edward’s capable hands. After all, it was Julian he had to answer to primarily, and she knew he wouldn’t dare cheat his royal highness.

“Yes, madame,” he said, leaving her to again peruse the ledgers she already had.

Chloe sighed as she peered out from the carriage, trying not to think of Ian.

With tears in her eyes, Aggie had begged her to come tend her youngest sister. The girl had gotten a pin in her leg while scrubbing the parish floor. Poor Isabel was merely eight years old and, like Aggie, had been forced to take on hard labor to help feed the family. Whenever Chloe bemoaned her own circumstances, she needed only look to those unfortunate souls such as Emily, Aggie and little Isabel.

She smiled slightly, thinking of Ian, who risked so much to bring a mere morsel of food to these good people’s plates.

“You’re thinking of my lord, are ye not, Miss Chloe?” Aggie gazed at her expectantly.

Chloe nodded, her cheeks burning just a little.

Was she so transparent?

“I knew it!” the girl exclaimed, her tone clearly pleased. “He
is
perfectly dreamy,” she said. She sighed, as well.

Chloe couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit jealous of the look of adoration evident upon Aggie’s face. Every woman she knew felt the same way about both Lord Lindale and Hawk. But only Chloe knew that they were one and the same.

“Thank you for coming,” Aggie said, peering out from the window as they rode into the town limits. She sat in the facing seat, her expression one of wonder since they’d departed Glen Abbey Manor. She was clearly unaccustomed to the luxuries of a coach, because she kept touching the carriage walls, feeling the velvety lining, running her hands over the plush leather seats.

“I assure you, it is my pleasure,” Chloe said, and meant it. It wasn’t as though Lady Fiona needed her anyway. In fact, she’d all but refused Chloe’s attendance this morn.

Aggie peered up at her then, her expression suddenly regretful. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, Miss Chloe.”

“Nonsense,” Chloe replied. “You did me a great favor, Aggie, now I shall do one for you.”

“Thank you, kindly,” Aggie said sincerely. “It’s no wonder everyone loves you! You’re so beautiful, smart and kind.”

Chloe blinked in surprise. Aggie’s disclosure took her aback. She hadn’t realized anyone thought anything of her at all. She had, for most of her life, felt quite invisible, except to her father—not that she had been lonely really. She hadn’t had time to feel sorry for herself.

Aggie’s expression turned to one of concern. “Isabel’s been in terrible pain these last three weeks,” she disclosed, worrying her lip. “She keeps a horrible fever and her leg has stiffened so that she cannot even walk.”

Chloe shook her head, not liking the sound of it. She was careful how she phrased her rebuke lest Aggie feel responsible. “You must never again wait so long to come to me, Aggie, and you must never worry about payment! Promise me you’ll not.”

Aggie nodded, preoccupied, and again peered out the window. “That’s curious,” she said suddenly, changing the subject yet again. “People are dancing in the street…”

“Dancing?” Chloe peered out the window and was startled to see so much revelry going on. There were people everywhere, dancing and shouting.

“That is, indeed, curious,” she agreed. The usually empty streets were filled with revelers—chil
dren running about their mother’s skirts—women carrying baskets of goods.

“Oh, my! Look how many people are coming from Mr. Duncan’s store!” Aggie exclaimed.

As they passed the general store, Chloe saw the owner put up a sign, bearing a happy grin upon his face. She rapped sharply upon the carriage roof and the carriage came to a halt. She and Aggie fought to exit the carriage, so curious were they. Both women spilled into the street.

Chloe, with Aggie at her heels, hurried to Mr. Duncan’s store before he could close the door.

“There’s nothing left!” he said cheerily before Chloe could open her mouth to speak.

“What do you mean, there’s nothing left?”

He cackled happily. “Just what I said, Miss Chloe—nothing left on the shelves!”

“What’s happened?” Aggie asked a little girl who passed by them. It was Rusty’s daughter, chasing after her mother, who was so beside herself with glee that she scarce noticed that one of her three daughters was struggling to keep up with her hurried pace.