Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel

Chapter 9

Absently, Swindler glided his hand up and down Eleanor’s arm. Never in his life had he experienced anything as intensely satisfying. Eleanor had touched him more intimately than any other woman. Pleasure had rocked her with a force that astounded him-and if he were honest, stroked his masculine pride.

She was so easily aroused and not at all afraid to share what she was feeling, experiencing, thinking. While he’d enjoyed the company of many ladies, with Eleanor he sensed there was no guile between them. Her reactions were all honest, her cries all heartfelt. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. He didn’t want her to leave his bed.

She would have to in a few more hours, before the sun rose, before anyone was up to see her leave his lodgings and arrive at her own. They’d had an illicit night, but nothing about it had seemed forbidden. If anything, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They belonged together, she and he. After what they’d shared, he no longer had any doubts.

For several minutes now she’d been slowly skimming her finger down the center of his chest and back up again. Occasionally she would trace a figure eight around his nipples. She might be recovering, not truly trying to arouse him, but his body was reacting just the same.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asked.

“About Elisabeth. I’m wondering if this was what Rockberry had promised her, or at the very least what she’d expected.”

“Did he get her with babe?”

“No, I don’t think so. If he did, it wasn’t obvious from looking at her. She arrived home in July and fell from the cliffs in September. Surely she would have shown by then.”

He didn’t want to talk of her sister, as it would dampen the mood or her memories of this night. Once he talked with Sir David and confirmed a plan of action, he’d pay her a visit and explain not only what he’d been doing the night he met her but how he planned to take the situation in hand to gain satisfaction for her regarding Rockberry. But until then he wanted nothing to sour what they’d shared, and had little doubt that her initial reaction to the fact that he’d been following her was not going to be well received.

He didn’t want her to throw what he was certain would be a horrendous tantrum in his lodgings. Nor in hers. Finding an appropriate place was going to be a bit of a bother. And he was certain a tantrum would be forthcoming. Ladies tended to look unfavorably on gentlemen who’d not been honest in their dealings with them-even when the dishonesty wasn’t their choice.

“Do you remember Cremorne Gardens when you confessed that you didn’t want the night ruined by-”

“By talk of the past?”

“Yes.”

“I shouldn’t let it ruin this night either.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, and he immediately hardened.

They lay in silence for several moments, simply absorbing the nearness of each other. He wondered how he was going to manage without her in his bed-in his life, for that matter. She was still aristocratic by birth. Surely she’d realized at the ball that she could find a good match in London. He’d been selfish to so willingly pounce on her words when she indicated that she wanted to spend the night in his arms.

“I hate the scars on your back,” she said softly.

His gut clenched and tightened. He’d kept them from everyone except her-and Frannie, who’d tended them. “I know they’re hideous.”

“No. No, they’re not.” She rose up on her elbows and held his gaze. “They’re a testament to your…ability to survive. You could have ended up like your father-hanged.”

He didn’t think his gut could clench any tighter. He was wrong. “If we’re not going to talk about your past, I’d rather not talk about mine.”

With a nod of acquiescence, she laid her head in the center of his chest. “I can hear your heart beat. I like the sound of it.”

“It always beats faster when you’re near.”

She dug her chin into his breastbone.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t feed me false flattery, Mr. Swindler.”

“I never would, Miss Watkins.”

She reached up and nipped his chin. He liked this playful side of her. Her character possessed so many different facets that he thought he needed a lifetime to study them all.

“Your rooms surprised me,” she said. “Especially your bedchamber. I was expecting something a bit more…decadent from a self-professed scoundrel.”

“What did you have in mind? Perhaps I can accommodate.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Something a bit more…red.”

“Brown suits me.”

“It doesn’t stand out.”

“I’m not one for wanting to stand out. Besides, I have the one thing in my bedchamber that every disreputable scoundrel must have.”

Her brow furrowed in concentration, she glanced around the room: at the bureau, at the chair, at the pile of clothes. “I can’t imagine what it might be.”

He gave her a teasing grin. “A lovely woman he can’t keep his hands off of.”

She released a tiny screech as he rolled her over until she was beneath him.

“Besides, Miss Watkins, what I have in my bedchamber isn’t nearly as important as what I do in it.”

Then he proceeded to take them both to paradise.

The sun was only just beginning to chase away the fog when he slipped her out of his lodgings. Thankfully, the carriage was still waiting for them. How wonderful it was that he had friends with the means to demand of their servants inconvenience.

As he assisted her inside and she settled on the bench, she fought not to have regrets. When his arm came around her, she buried her face in the nook of his shoulder, inhaling the wondrous fragrance that was him. And then she remembered his gift.

“Oh, I forgot the necklace. Will you help me remove it?”

“Take it. It’s yours.”

She jerked around to face him. “But you said it was on loan.”

“I lied. I didn’t think you would accept it otherwise.”

“It’s too grand a gift. It would be improper.”

“Eleanor, we’ve just spent the entire night being improper. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

She fought not to show how the harshness in his voice had hurt her, but he must have guessed because his face gentled and he tucked his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I have no one in my life for whom I can purchase gifts, and money means nothing to me. Please accept them as a token of my esteem.”

She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but the truth was that she loved them. Touching her fingers to them, she said as graciously as possible, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

They said not another word, but then the journey was short. A few streets over. It wasn’t until he was standing before her at the door, his ungloved hand cradling her cheek, that he spoke again. “I want to call on you this evening.”

She smiled at him and nodded.

“I know you have concerns,” he said quietly, “because your sister came to London and fell into disgrace, but that will not be the way of it between us. I promise you that, Eleanor. We have known each other only a short while, but what I feel for you cannot be measured.”

The hot tears burned her eyes.

He leaned down and kissed the corner of each eye. “Until tonight.”

Taking her key, he opened the door and ushered her inside. He didn’t follow her in. Simply closed the door. She leaned against it, listening to the clatter of hooves and the whirring of wheels taking him farther and farther away from her.

Swindler decided to take advantage of having Claybourne’s carriage. He’d send it back later. For now he had matters that needed his attention. He returned to his lodgings, where he took care in preparing himself to meet with Sir David. He didn’t want to give any evidence of what his night had entailed. However, in the early hours of the morning while Eleanor had lain in his arms, he’d decided it was time to put this nonsense to rest.

When he walked into Sir David’s office, he didn’t give the man the opportunity to say anything other than “Swindler” before he began explaining where he thought matters needed to go.

“I’m quite convinced that Miss Eleanor Watkins is no threat to Rockberry. If anything, the man, himself, is the culprit. I intend to confront him this morning and ask him exactly why he believes Miss Watkins would want him dead, I intend to interrogate him thoroughly in order to determine precisely what he did to Miss Watkins’s sister. There, sir, is where I believe the crime resides, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

Sir David leaned back in his chair, his face an uncompromising mask. “That might be a bit difficult, Swindler, since Rockberry was murdered last night.”