Whirlwind Wedding (22 page)

"A mistake, Caroline. A big mistake." His voice shook and his heart raced at triple speed. Dropping his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut and again prayed for strength. His arms still held her tightly against him, and he knew she must feel his arousal pressing against her, but she made no move to stand away from him. Instead she clung to him all the tighter. He wished he could blame the liquor for what had just occurred but he couldn't.

He'd wanted to kiss Caroline more than he'd ever wanted anything before. He just thanked God he'd found the control to stop himself from taking any further liberties with her. He shuddered to think what Austin would do if he ever found out about the way his most trusted friend had just kissed his innocent sister. Pistols at dawn weren't beyond the realm of possibility.

She raised her head. "How can you possibly say it was a mistake? It was wonderful."

Miles forced himself to step away from her. "It shouldn't have happened.

If I hadn't had so much to drink, it never would have."
Liar.

"You didn't enjoy it?" she asked her eyes clouding over with hurt bewilderment. "How can that be? It was the most wonderful moment of my entire life. Did you not feel what I felt?"

Dear God how could he deny it? Their kiss had nearly brought him to his knees, but he could not,
must
not, tell her that. "It was just a meaningless kiss, nothing more." He pushed the lie past his lips and his insides cringed when her eyes filled with tears.

"Meaningless?" she whispered in a broken voice. She turned her back to him in an obvious struggle to compose herself.

He longed to take her in his arms, to take back his hurtful words, but he forced his hands to remain at his sides and he kept his mouth shut. He had to be firm. She was too young. Too innocent. Definitely not the woman for him. The only way he could ever have Caroline would be to marry her.

And he wasn't about to get married simply to quell a lustful urge. He'd bring his lustful urges to a mistress and remain a carefree bachelor, thank you very much.

"So, did you glean your answer about kissing?" he asked in a light tone, trying to gloss over the last several cataclysmic moments.

Caroline drew an audible breath and whirled around. She faced him squarely, her eyes still damp, but shooting daggers nonetheless. "Yes.

You'll be happy to know that your kiss isn't in the least bit boring," she informed him in a voice that shook with emotion. "But calling what happened between us meaningless is dishonest in the extreme." She raised her chin a notch. "A falsehood of the first order."

His eyes narrowed on her flushed face. "Are you calling me a liar?" he asked for the second time that evening.

"Yes, Miles. I'm calling you a liar." She stalked to the door, then shot his still-bulging manhood a scathing glance. "And a very poor liar at that." She swept from the room, and he gaped at the empty doorway.

Good God. What a crushing set down.

What an incredible woman.

And just what the hell was he going to do about it?

Austin awoke slowly, drowsily becoming aware of gentle hands roaming his chest. He pried one sleepy eye open and was rewarded with a view of a perfectly round breast topped with a plump rosy nipple. Deciding this required further investigation, he slid his other eye open and delighted in the sight and feel of his naked bride sitting astride his thighs, running her hands slowly up and down his torso.

Her glorious hair surrounded her like an auburn cloud, cascading over her shoulders to touch her full breasts and caress her hips, the curling ends gliding behind her to rest on his legs.

The fact that he was aroused did not surprise him a bit. Indeed, he'd been in a constant state of arousal for the past three days.

But today things would change. He'd sent a message to Bow Street and had been informed that as of last evening, no one had yet heard from James Kinney.

And late last night another blackmail letter had been delivered, demanding that Austin gather the incredible sum of five thousand pounds and await further instructions. He'd questioned the lad who brought the missive and learned that a "Frenchie" had offered him a bob to deliver the note. After paying the ragged youth a crown, he'd further learned that the "Frenchie" had frequented several establishments by the riverfront. The description the boy had provided of the man left no doubt in his mind that it was Gaspard. Austin planned to visit those places this afternoon in the hope of confronting the bastard face to face.

So, as delightful as this brief interlude with his bride had been, it was time to turn his attention to other matters.

"Good morning, your grace," she greeted him. She leaned down and kissed his lips. "Or perhaps I should say good afternoon?" Her fingers trailed down his chest to lightly tickle his belly. His muscles contracted with pleasurable spasms wherever she touched him. Yes, it was going to be a shame for this interlude to end.

She wrapped her fingers around his arousal and gently stroked him. "Are you going back to sleep?"

Instead of answering, he grabbed her hips, lifted her, and impaled her on his erection. "I'm wide awake and you have my
full
attention," he assured her, his voice ending on a husky groan when she squeezed him in her silky, wet passage.

Reaching up, he wound his fist in her hair and dragged her mouth down to his. His tongue slipped into her mouth while his other hand nestled between her thighs. When his fingers caressed her, she moaned deeply.

Her climax came quickly, consuming her totally. Burying her face against his shoulder, she cried out his name over and over while she spasmed around him and melted in his arms.

The moment she relaxed against him, he rolled them over until she lay on her back beneath him. He settled himself between her splayed thighs and moved slowly within her, withdrawing nearly all the way only to glide deep once again.

Supporting his weight on his hands, he watched her beautiful face as he stroked inside her, slowly and steadily, until she writhed beneath him. She held absolutely nothing back in her responses to him. There was nothing shy or retiring about his bride in the bedchamber. Elizabeth in the throes of passion, with her long shining hair spread around her, was one of the most erotic sights he'd ever seen. A heartfelt groan escaped him when she wrapped her long legs around him and her fingers grasped his straining biceps.

"Austin," she moaned arching beneath him. Her orgasm clenched him, and he sank into her one last time, spilling his seed deep within her.

Clasping her to him, he rolled them onto their sides, and buried his face in her fragrant hair.

"That was a very nice way to wake up," he murmured when he was able to speak again. He stroked the small of her back and her rounded buttocks with a light, circular motion.

"Very nice for me as well," she said with a sassy wink that made him smile.

Yes indeed the last three days had been the happiest he'd ever known.

They'd ventured out only once, yesterday, for a leisurely carriage ride through Hyde Park, then window shopping along Bond Street. Austin had admired a pair of diamond and pearl ear bobs at a fashionable jeweler's and purchased them for his bride in spite of her protests. Elizabeth then discovered a small bookshop on a cobbled side street and dragged him inside.

"I thought you said you didn't like to shop," he'd teased as she browsed the shelves.

"I don't care for shopping for
things.
These are
books."

He wasn't sure he understood the distinction, but he was more than happy to indulge her. He bought her over a dozen volumes, and he noted with amusement, she was more thrilled with them than the fabulously expensive ear bobs.

Aside from their outing yesterday, their time had been spent almost exclusively in his bedchamber. Naked. Touching. Learning. Exploring.

Enjoying each other. Sharing their bodies. They even took most of their meals there, emerging only for dinner in the formal dining room. But once that was over, they escaped into their own private world where he taught his bride about passion, and in the process discovered that while he'd had many lovers, he'd never experienced the heartfelt tenderness he felt with Elizabeth.

They'd made one midnight excursion down to Austin's private study on their second night together. Saying he had a surprise for her, he made her close her eyes while he led her by the hand into his study. A fire glowed in the grate, bathing the room with gentle warmth. She looked around the room and spotted the framed sketch she'd given him hung in a place of honor on the wall opposite his desk.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Every time I look up I'll see it and think of you," he said quietly. He'd then spent the next hour teaching her to waltz, only to learn that the dance was much more sensuous than he'd ever believed. While Elizabeth may not have been the most graceful dancer he'd ever partnered he'd never enjoyed himself more.

They ended up making slow, leisurely love on the thick carpet in front of the fire, and Austin knew he would never again enter his study without envisioning Elizabeth on the rug, her eyes filled with desire, her arms reaching out to him.

Now, her lips brushed the side of his neck. God, this woman made him happy, a fact that simultaneously unsettled, confused, and elated him.

They'd spent many tender moments together over the past few days, laughing, talking, yet she hadn't confided her secrets about the sadness that had driven her from America. He'd broached the subject once, but she'd immediately turned the conversation to something else. To his surprise, her reluctance to discuss her past bothered him and he found himself waiting for her to tell him, hoping that she'd tell him.

"What would you like to do today?" he asked his hands lightly caressing her soft skin.

"Hmmm . . . I'm doing it right now."

"Indeed? What's that?"

"Holding you. Feeling you next to me. Feeling you inside me." Tipping her head back, she looked at him with somber eyes that swam with emotion. She tenderly placed her hand against his face. "Touching you.

Loving you."

Did she mean she loved him? Or simply "loving you" to equate "making love with you"? He didn't know, and although he'd never wanted a woman's love before, he suddenly found himself wanting to hear words of love for him pass Elizabeth's lips.

There was no denying his marriage of convenience was taking a very unexpected turn. And the vulnerable, confusing feelings hitting him were something he wasn't sure he liked at all.

She traced her fingertips over his brows. "What would
you
like to do today?"

"I'd
like
to stay right here with you and make love all afternoon, but I'm afraid there's some work that needs my attention."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He smiled at the eagerness in her voice. "I'm afraid not. My work involves several errands and a great deal of boring correspondence."

"Perhaps I could accompany you on your errands?"

"I fear I must handle them alone." He was not about to bring her to the riverfront. "You'd be far too much of a distraction. My mind would be on you, not business."

She stilled and laid her hands against his face. "You're keeping something from me. You're going somewhere you don't want me to go." A sigh escaped her. "Austin. Let me help you."

Damn, could the woman see straight into his soul? An unsettling question at best. Could she see his growing affection for her?

Affection?
He nearly rolled his eyes at the flavorless word that in no way adequately described what he felt for her. The idea that she might see or feel things he was not yet prepared to share disconcerted him, but she'd made no further mention of her visions or reading his thoughts.

He ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. As for taking her to the places he needed to go, it was out of the question. He couldn't expose her to danger or— "You don't want to expose me to danger. I understand. But I'll be with you. I'll be perfectly safe."

"I cannot take you to these places, Elizabeth. They're seedy, to say the least. Not at all the sort of places a lady goes to."

"Exactly what are you planning?"

He considered not telling her, but he found he was oddly reluctant to lie to her.

"Do you recall my telling you at the ruins that I'd hired a Bow Street Runner to find information about a Frenchman I saw with William shortly before he died?"

"Yes. You'd planned to meet the Runner that night."

"Correct. Well, I've received information that the Frenchman I seek—a man I know only as Gaspard—was recently seen in a pub and gaming hell near the riverfront. I'm going there to find him."

"Why?"

Because the bastard is threatening everything I hold dear. He could destroy my
family . . . which you are now a part of.
In spite of his reluctance, he knew he'd have to lie. "I have reason to believe he stole several items from William. I want them back."

"Why not let your investigator find him?"

"I wish to follow up on this lead while it's still hot."

She regarded him steadily through serious eyes. "I want to accompany you."

"Absolutely not."

"Don't you realize that I could help you? Can you not at least
try
to believe that I could? I might sense something that could aid you in your search. If I touch something he touched or a person he spoke to, perhaps I could feel him. . . his whereabouts."

"Damn it, I know you want to help me, and while I cannot deny you possess a keen intuition, you're not a magician. There is simply no way you can assist me with this. And the idea of taking you to the slums of London is out of the question. I appreciate your concern, but—"