The Unforgettable Hero (10 page)

There was no use prevaricating. “Kiss me,” she said.

He pushed up to his elbows and blinked at her. She set the candle onto the table next to the bed and slid onto the mattress beside him. It was warm and soft. It smelled like him.

“Kiss you?” he whispered back, and she could tell he was considering it. “But we—”

That was it. She’d have to convince him the only way she knew how. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his mouth.

The kiss was scorching. Adam’s mouth opened, and he immediately took control of the kiss. He pulled her into his arms, his tongue owning her. Their mouths clashed, met, clashed again. Their tongues played in an epic battle until they were both shaking. Finally, he yanked his mouth from hers and rested his forehead against hers.

He carefully pulled her arms down from around his neck. He was still breathing heavily, but he managed to push himself away from her. “Cecelia,” he whispered. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know what this means.”

“Yes, I do. I know exactly what this means. Please, kiss me again. Make love to me, Adam.” She didn’t wait for his reaction but pulled her night rail over her head and tossed it on the floor.

Adam’s breath left his body in a solid whoosh. The perfection of Cecelia’s body was nearly too much to bear. He’d been hard before but now he was painfully so. He couldn’t make love to her, couldn’t take the virginity of a lady who had been through all that she’d been through in the last few days. That would make him the worst louse in the history of louses. No. He couldn’t make love to her. But he could make her feel good. She was spread out naked on his bed, her glorious dark hair spilling over her shoulders, teasing against her nipple. His mouth watered.

“Take me,” she whispered.

God, it was tempting.

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth, then he covered her body with his. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her mouth. He nuzzled her neck. She squirmed beneath him. She tried to reach for his member, but he held his hips away. “No,” he said. “This is for you.”

“I want it to be for both of us,” she murmured, her eyes closed as his lips nipped at her breast.

“Just let me touch you,” he whispered.

Cece kept her eyes squeezed shut and allowed herself to simply feel. Adam’s mouth on her nipple was driving her slowly insane. His lips tugged at her, nipped at her. While his other hand played with the opposite nipple. Zings of pleasure arched from her breasts to the spot between her legs that cried out for his touch. She lifted her hips, desperately wanting his hand there.

He did not disappoint. His strong, warm hand gradually skimmed down her belly, leisurely making its way between her thighs. She moaned. His finger slowly slipped between her legs and nudged at the delicate spot that ached for his touch. Her mouth fell open, panting. She wanted to call his name. Instead she bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.

Then he began to stroke, and Cecelia forgot her own name. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she clutched at his strong upper arms for support. He touched her, over and over, stroking her so softly, so perfectly, her legs tensed and wetness flooded between her thighs. She bit her lip. Then he began to circle that tiny nub of pleasure using only his finger. She tossed her head on the pillow from side to side. A pressure built within her, an unbearable pressure. She didn’t know how it would end. Adam moved his head down and nipped at her belly, then his hand moved away, and his mouth covered her most intimate spot. She froze, not allowing herself to breathe. Praying that he wouldn’t stop. Then his tongue replaced his finger, nudging at her so gently, then lightly sucking, then circling. Cecelia’s hands tangled in the bedsheets, they tangled in Adam’s dark hair, trying to pull him closer to her body, never wanting it to end.

One last perfect nudge with his hot tongue and she cried out as the pieces of her world splintered into pleasure she’d never known before. “Adam!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The next morning, Adam paced in front of the fireplace in one of the drawing rooms. What the hell had he been thinking last night? He hadn’t made love to Cecelia but he’d come damn close. The fact that she’d sneaked into his room and climbed into bed with him was not the point. He’d held her in his arms silently afterward, whispering to her that everything would be all right. But how it would be all right? He had no bloody idea. He had no clue as to what her troubles were. He still didn’t even know if she was in danger.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he’d said. “Perhaps I can help.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Cecelia had answered. “I simply don’t know how to explain where I’ve been to my … to my guardian. I wanted one more night to think about it.”

Adam had clasped her hand. “I can come with you, explain what happened. I saw the whole thing. And Dr. Archibald can come too. We—”

“Just hold me, Adam,” she’d requested. “I’ll go back to taking care of myself tomorrow.”

The words had made his chest ache more but he’d respected the fact that she obviously didn’t want to discuss whatever sort of trouble she was in. “I’m sorry I’m not a duke,” he’d said quietly after a while.

“Oh, Adam, you’re so much better than the Duke of Loveridge,” she’d said.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you’re a real man, with real feelings, and you’ve only ever been nice to me. You helped me when I was hurt. You took me in. You pretended with me to keep me from being frightened. You made me laugh. And you’ve given me an extraordinary gift tonight. Thank you, Adam. Thank you for everything.”

Adam’s throat had been tight. He didn’t know what to say.
You’re welcome
seemed far too inadequate. She’d given him something, too. Whether her name was Magnolia or Cecelia, the young woman he’d come to know was kind and caring and loving and warm. She cared about her sister and she’d been a good friend to Lucy. She was funny and well-read and intelligent. She’d written a book and been brave enough to try to sell it. And she’d been the only person Adam had ever known who’d expressed the same feeling he’d always felt. That he didn’t belong. When he was with her, he felt as if he could
breathe.

They’d lain there and held each other in silence. The scent of her hair like roses filled his nostrils, the feel of her porcelain skin beneath his fingertips. He’d never felt so protective of anyone in his life. And it might just be the last time he ever would.

At dawn’s first light, she’d slipped on her night rail and fled the room without another word. No promises. No discussion of any sort of a future. He hadn’t seen her yet this morning, but he’d asked Hughes to please let him know the moment either Cecelia or Mary came downstairs. Thank goodness Lucy and Derek were both preoccupied with some sort of social event they’d agreed to this morning long before Cecelia had entered their lives. Adam couldn’t take any questions or knowing looks from his brother and sister-in-law at the moment. Lucy had long ago suspected Adam had feelings for their houseguest, and after last night, he could no longer deny it.

It wasn’t long before Hughes entered the drawing room and announced Miss Mary Harcourt. Adam stopped pacing. He had some questions for the girl.

Mary entered the room moments later, dressed as before in her respectable, if outdated and faded, gown.

“You … wanted to see me, Mr. Hunt,” she said tentatively. The poor girl looked scared out of her wits.

“Yes, Mary. May I ask you a question?” It had been something he’d been wondering about for a bit, but Lucy, blast her, had squirreled Cecelia’s novel away to her bedchamber, apparently to read it again.

“Of course, Mr. Hunt,” Mary replied.

“What happens at the end of the story?”

Mary’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“What happens at the end of
Lady Magnolia and the Duke?
Does Lady Magnolia marry the duke?”

Mary shook her head and swallowed. “I don’t know. Cece wrote the ending just before she left and I didn’t have a chance to read it. But I do
hope
that Lady Magnolia and the Duke of Loveridge live happily ever after.”

Adam sighed and paced toward the door this time. “Why won’t your sister tell me what’s wrong?”

The girl’s voice was hesitant but tentative. She coughed. “What’s wrong, Mr. Hunt?”

He turned to see her pale face and held up a hand. “She’s all but admitted she’s in danger. I want to know what sort of danger.”

Mary wrung her hands. “Oh, please don’t blame her,” Mary exclaimed, fighting another cough. “She wanted one more night in a grand house. A duke’s house.”

Adam clenched his jaw. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. Not at all. “So she’s
not
in danger?”

“Not the physical sort,” Mary replied. “You see, the truth is that she’s engaged to Percy, and he’s—”

Adam’s head snapped up.
Engaged?
“Pardon?”

Mary pressed a hand to her wheezing chest. “She didn’t tell you that, either? Perhaps I should remain silent until you have a chance to speak more to Cecelia. You see, Uncle Herbert has taken over Father’s house and it means so much to Cecelia and me. I know she doesn’t want me to have to leave, but I need medicine and—” The girl sighed. “I’ve said too much already. I’ll go now.”

Adam nodded, his jaw still clenched. “I’ll send you back in the coach and will bring her along shortly.”

Mary nodded. “Very well. I’ll await her there.”

As soon as the girl had left, Adam rang for Hughes. The butler entered the room and stood at attention. “Will you please see to it that Mary gets home safely and send a maid to fetch Miss Harcourt?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Minutes later, Cecelia tentatively entered the room wearing the same gown she’d been in the day he’d met her. Her rumpled manuscript was in her arms.

“You … wanted to see me?” she asked in a slightly shaking voice.

“I spoke to Mary this morning,” he replied in a voice he intended to be void of all emotion. “She’s on her way home now.”

“She left without me?”

“I told her I’d take you home. I wanted to speak with you … alone.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I see.”

“The carriage should return momentarily.”

No more words were spoken until nearly twenty minutes later when the coach arrived. Adam held her manuscript and assisted her in, then handed the pages to her and climbed in behind her. He sat opposite her and braced his elbow against the sill.

She placed the manuscript on the tufted velvet squabs next to her and folded her hands in her lap. “Adam, I think it’s best if—”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m confused as to what you think is best. Your decisions over the last twenty-four hours have entirely befuddled me.”

She reached out a hand toward him but soon let it fall back into her lap. “Are you angry with me?”

He pressed a knuckle to his temple. “I want to know
why.
Why did you ask to stay last night?”

She heaved a deep sigh. “I can’t explain it. Not in any way that would make sense to you. I wanted to pretend. For just one more night.”

His fist tightened into a knot at his side. “Your sister said as much. I only hoped it wasn’t true. Were you
pretending
in my bed?”

“No! Never. I—”

“Got used to living in a fine house, did you?” His voice was flat.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “That’s not it at all. I wanted to be with someone I cared about. It’s just that—”

Adam studied her. The look of shock on her face made him think she was telling the truth at first, but then cold reality settled over his heart. This woman was a liar and a consummate actress. No doubt she’d remembered who she was sooner than yesterday. Perhaps she’d never forgotten.

“It’s just that what?” he interrupted. “You couldn’t help yourself?”

She’d gone completely pale. “I know you have no reason to believe me, Adam. But I wanted to stay with
you.
For one more night.”

“Ah, yes. You were pretending I was your betrothed, weren’t you?”

The coach came to a stop in front of her father’s town house.

“You don’t understand,” she began. “I—”

“I think I do understand. The question is, will your true
affianced
understand. You
are
engaged, are you not, Miss Harcourt? You let me touch you and hold you last night when all the while you were pledged to another man. Not to
me
or to the fictitious Duke of Loveridge. But to someone named Percy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Three weeks later

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Adam looked up to see Derek striding through the smoky tavern. It was a small watering hole not too far from Derek’s house in Mayfair but far enough away that it certainly was no competition for the esteemed gentlemen’s clubs of St. James. The Curious Goat was different. Untitled men came here. Men like Adam.

“I told you that you’re welcome to come with me to Brooks’s,” Derek said as he pulled over a chair and sat next to his brother. He tossed a coin to the serving maid and ordered a tankard of ale.

“And I told you that I prefer it here,” Adam replied. He’d tried Brooks’s. Went there more than once. But it was the sort of place where everyone saw him as one thing and one thing only, the brother of the newly minted Duke of Claringdon. That was all anyone there would ever see. They never asked him about himself. No. They always had searching eyes. “Where is your brother? Haven’t seen him of late.” It made Adam want to punch the asker in the jaw. It didn’t seem to bother Collin the way it did Adam, but Adam was acutely aware that he didn’t belong. He was only welcome by association. Here at the Curious Goat no one knew he was the brother of a duke, and more important, no one cared.

“Fine by me,” Derek replied, taking his tankard from the barmaid and hefting it to his lips. That was the thing about Derek. You couldn’t be angry with him for his success. Not only had the man earned it, deserved it, but he never lorded it over anyone. He seemed to be as comfortable in a tavern as he was in the House of Lords. Hadn’t he married Lucy, one of the bluest of the blue bloods? Lucy’s father was an earl, for Christ’s sake. Their family had been titled for generations. Yet Derek, who came from a family of soldiers in Brighton, seemed to fit right in. It was something Adam admired in his older brother. One of many things.