Wayward One (36 page)

“God knows I want to.” His chest lifted beneath her cheek on a slow breath. “Having you here will be enough.”

Of both of them, he was by far the better person. She’d have to prove herself to him over the years, not that it would be much of a hardship at all. Being his soft place and warm comfort seemed like the epitome of her life’s yearnings.

That didn’t mean she had nothing more to offer him. Peeling out of his grip, she slipped open the drawer of her desk. The hand-cut lace she’d spent hours on shook as she drew the card out. “I intended this for your birthday. I failed you and I failed myself in not giving it to you. I thought by presenting you with such a card, you’d know immediately how I loved you.”

Fletcher’s hands were steady as he took the silly, much-labored-over card from her grasp, and his pale eyes were solemn. He traced a single fingertip over the layered cutwork. “This must have taken you hours.”

“At least,” she said on a helpless laugh. Her heart was lodged at her collarbones. Fear ate beneath her corset.

“You really do love me.”

“I do. I have so long.”

“Thank God,” he breathed. He angled a fast kiss over her mouth that was no less devastating for its quickness. “It was hell on earth to love you as I have and to know you didn’t feel the same.”

She went up on her toes to kiss him. As her lips slid across his, she recognized it was the first time she’d ever done so. Always before she’d been content to wait for him to come to her.

From the way his grip on her shoulders tightened to draw her near, he knew the import of the moment as well.

As he moved to lay the card carefully back on the desk, his gaze caught on the half-open drawer. “What else is in here?”

“Nothing,” she blurted automatically.

He lifted his eyebrows as his mouth quirked into that shape she was coming to hold so dear. A light amusement only she seemed capable of drawing forth. She sighed. “As you like. It’s Tristan and Isolde’s story. It’s too costly and specialized to have gone with everything else.”

“I was wondering where that had gotten off to,” he said with a distinct strain of laughter in his voice. The small blue volume was nearly dwarfed by his hand when he picked it up. “Seems a curious place to keep an expensive manuscript. You weren’t by chance reading it, were you, Mrs. Thomas?”

Heavens, but this was difficult. Yet she had to admit, exciting at the same time. Fletcher would never shame her or shun her, no matter how lasciviously she behaved. She swallowed down the last remnants of her fear. “Perhaps a few passages here and there.”

He bent his head over hers in that protective manner he had. The trace of his lips up the column of her neck was nothing safe and everything exciting. “Did you develop any favorites?”

Forcing herself to speak was too much. She only nodded.

His mouth curved into a smile against her skin. “Will you share them with me?”

Of course she would. She’d share everything she had, everything she was. Everything she ever would be. Because he’d always keep her cherished.

She slid her arms around his waist to grasp him near. Her mouth opened under his, and she stroked her tongue along the inside of his bottom lip—another thing she’d never dared.

Because there were no rules between them. Whether he liked her experimentations or not, he’d always be there to catch her when she fell. Forever.

Epilogue

Sera’s first formal event as hostess in her own home, the dinner honoring the Earl and Countess of Linsley, was a rousing success. Though the original intent of solidifying relations between Fletcher and Lord Linsley had become a matter of decorum, the event was serving a secondary purpose. Sera had been officially announced as Lord Linsley’s niece by his dearly departed brother and welcomed into the family fold. The rooms of their home were filled with biddies gossiping behind their fans as they hoped for some hint as to salacious details, but they didn’t receive much.

Even now, Sera sat next to Lady Linsley, listening to an amusing tale involving a tea party, unexpected rainy weather and a duck. The ladies had retired to the parlors while the men still sat around the dinner table, swilling port and puffing on expensive cigars. Everyone in their places and a place for everyone.

Hareton entered, then leaned low over the back of Sera’s chair. “Ma’am, it is half past the hour, as you requested a reminder of,” he whispered.

Perfect. The scheduled soprano would begin her songs on the hour. If Sera had arranged it right, she had just enough time to enact her plan. At this very moment, Fletcher should be receiving word that Sera desperately needed to discuss something with him in the morning room.

“Thank you, Hareton,” she said, putting an appropriately concerned look on her face. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

Good man that he was, no hint of confusion muddled his features as he nodded and backed away.

“Trouble, my dear?” asked Lady Linsley.

Sera stood. “A minor issue, I believe, but one which Mr. Thomas and I must both attend to. We shall certainly be back by the time the entertainment is to begin.”

A knowing glimmer lurked deep within Lady Linsley’s dark eyes. Sera was coming to like the older woman significantly. “By all means,” said the countess with a wave. “Do as you must. I’ll see to things here if matters take a…moment or two longer than you think.”

Amusement and excitement warred within Sera as she made her way to the morning room. Her heartbeat pulsed frantically through her veins, even as her body flushed heavy and full. Wetness soaked her quim.

She and Fletcher had loosed the rules of their relationship. Lovemaking was no longer constrained to her bed, nor to the dark of night.

Sneaking away in the middle of an event for which she was the hostess? This was a new level of depravity.

She was thrilled with herself for her daring.

Fletcher entered the small room moments after her. Concern drew together his brows and pressed his lush mouth into a flat line. They didn’t have time for her to feel those lips between her legs, but there’d be plenty of time for that later. They had a whole life together, after all.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

She slipped behind him to turn the key in the door, then hooked her fingers into his lapels. She backed up until her hips pressed against the support of a chaise lounge. “I have a terrible problem,” she said. How strange that her voice had gone so low and husky, merely from the anticipation of his touch.

“Is that right?” He’d tipped to the lack of gravity of the situation. Hot fire banked in his eyes. He circled her hips with a firm grip.

She nodded. Her tongue slid across her bottom lip. She rose to breathe her answer in his ear. “I need you inside me. Right now, if at all possible.”

He kissed her so long and so deep that she began to shake with her need. Her love for this man grew every day, and she’d never regret reaching forth to grasp it with both hands.

When he drew away, his mouth was damp with evidence of their passion and he was lit from within with love for her. “Your wish is, of course, my command. Always.”

About the Author

After a semi-nomadic childhood throughout California, Lorelie Brown spent high school in Orange County before joining the US Army. After traveling the world from South Korea to Italy, she’s returned home to California. But not the cool area. She can’t afford that yet.

Lorelie has three active sons and a tiny shih-tzu who thinks he’s son number three—not four, he’s too important to be the baby. Writing romance helps her escape a house full of testosterone.

In her immense free time (hah!) Lorelie co-writes contemporary erotic romance under the name Katie Porter. You can find out more about the “Vegas Top Guns” and “Club Devant” series at
www.KatiePorterBooks.com
or at
@MsKatiePorter
. You can also contact Lorelie either at her website
www.LorelieBrown.com
, or on Twitter
@LorelieBrown
.

Look for these titles by Lorelie Brown

Now Available:

Jazz Baby

Coming Soon:

An Indiscreet Debutante

Of all the juice joints he had to bust, this one had to be hers…

Jazz Baby

© 2010 Lorelie Brown

In the world of illegal speakeasies, Kate Kirkland has her life running smoother than a Model T. Maybe moving the family bar into the basement wasn’t the best choice for her alcoholic brother, but Kate’s making them a living—until a local gangster tries to expand his territory. Right into her bar.

Luckily Micah Trent, her handsome and too-suave bootlegger, is ready and willing to offer her a helping hand. If Kate can bring herself to accept it. Since sharing one sensual dance to seal their deal, she can’t ignore the delectably wicked way he makes her feel.

Micah is keeping secrets of his own. He’s a Prohibition Agent, sworn to shut down the gin mills and distilleries that keep illegal booze flowing. Kate’s speakeasy is next on his list—right after he uses her as bait to catch the gangster hunting her.

But even if Micah and Kate can maneuver their way through the gangsters’ dangerous underworld, will their love survive the trial by fire?

Warning: This title contains steamy hot sex, big fancy guns that result in just a little bit of brains on the floor, and enough booze to float an armada.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Jazz Baby:

A curious rush of relief swept through Micah. He and Kate were business. He’d had a series of similar meetings over the past week, all initiated by Saul Rubio. This had been the only one at which he felt a shiver of worry about the outcome. Granted, this was also the one and only of the speakeasies run by a woman. A gorgeous, sexy woman with a mind like a whipsaw.

She’d played him, and he’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. When she’d aimed those bright baby blues at him, her lush, red-painted mouth ever so slightly open, his mind had gone instantly to sex. To visions of the two of them twined together, to tasting the elegant curve of her neck as he palmed her ass.

She looked like she was built for endurance too. Average height, but with long legs that would wrap around a man’s waist and hold on tight. She had a heart-shaped face, with bobbed black hair that angled down to an almost too sharp chin. Straight dark brows winged over eyes that looked right through a man and picked apart his darkest, most erotic thoughts.

Down, boy. Kate Kirkland was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. Johnny Vittorelli was in the process of setting himself up to be bootlegger to all of lower Manhattan. Thanks to a luckily timed bust of Saul, Micah and Jake would be sitting pretty before Vittorelli even got his operation going.

When it was all over, the Prohibition Bureau would wipe through every club involved in the sting.

Not quite the way a man thanked a woman for a lovely romp in bed, and that wasn’t even touching on how he’d have to lie about himself every moment they were together. It’d be in his best interests to get his brain out of his pants. Pronto.

“It’s a deal, Miss Kirkland,” he finally replied.

“You got a bathroom in this joint?” Jake piped up for the first time since they’d sat down.

“Of course, Mr. Sterling.” She angled her body to get out of the booth, which left her facing Micah. “Mr. Trent, if you’d please let me out.”

For a split second, he was tempted to force her to push him out. But he slid out of the way rapidly. He needed to keep in her good graces, not piss her off enough to send her shopping for a new bootlegger.

Kate let them through the small club to a shadowed hallway. Micah stayed to the rear of the procession, the better to watch her hips sway. Her dress was open nearly to the small of her back, black silk framing creamy, porcelain skin. The soft sweep of her spine curved, hinting at what was further below.

That whole
keeping his mind out of his pants
idea wasn’t going so well.

“There you go, Mr. Sterling. Second door on the right.”

Jake nodded briefly and left. Kate turned to Micah and propped a hand on her hip.

“Were you going with him? Maybe he needs help to shake?” 
“You are a spitfire, aren’t you?” He leaned against the turquoise and silver wall. 
“Most of us modern girls are.”

“To answer your question, no. Jake’s a big boy. He’s been toilet trained for a good three year now.”

“Then why did you feel obliged to follow?” A smile quirked her cupid’s-bow mouth. “I’d think you’d be enjoying your drink with Saul. Our business is finished for now.”

“We didn’t seal the deal.” He’d followed to ensure Jake would have a private moment to snoop around, but it wouldn’t serve to say so. In his line of work, the truth was seldom the best choice. He and Jake specialized in undercover work. In quickly, get the information, or make the bust and slide out again. No muss, no fuss. Already this was shaping up to be one of the longest operations they’d orchestrated.

“We agreed. That’s enough for me.”