Whirlwind Affair

Chapter 15

Allie stood in the darkened corner of her bedchamber looking out the window. All she could see was darkness and her own pale reflection. She'd lain in the wide bed for hours, praying for sleep to release her from the maelstrom of thoughts whirling through her mind, but sleep had stubbornly refused to come. Instead, emotions and worries and fears marched through her head like a battalion of soldiers-Robert, the ring, Robert, the note, Robert, secrets, Robert, Elizabeth 's warning.

Robert.

She pressed her fingers to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish him, but he remained firmly embedded in her mind. She had not seen him since dinner-a rushed meal, as everyone wished to visit with Elizabeth and Lily. Of course, it had been impossible to speak to him in the dining room about what was uppermost in her mind. I think we should become lovers.

And now, Elizabeth 's confirmation that he did indeed have secrets had her thoughts in further turmoil. What was he hiding? What had happened in his past? An almost morbid curiosity pulled at her. In spite of the fact that she shouldn't care, that it should not matter, she felt an inexplicable need, an overwhelming urge to know. What would happen if she, as Elizabeth suggested, simply asked him? Would he tell her? Or would he, as David had, lie? Or deny there was anything to tell? Don't be a fool. If he has not shared his secrets with his own family, why would he tell you? And why would you want him to?

She opened her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. In the window's reflection she saw her bedchamber door opening slowly inward. An icy ball of fear bounced through her, and she whirled around.

And found herself staring at Robert quietly entering her bedchamber. She blinked twice, certain he was a figment of her overwrought imagination, but he was very real. And here.

A wave of heat engulfed her, instantly melting her fear. From her shadowy corner, she watched him close, then lock, the door. He moved slowly, silently, toward the bed. She knew the exact instant he realized she did not lie beneath the rumpled bedclothes. He froze, then quickly scanned the room.

"I'm here," she said, emerging from the deep shadows.

Robert turned so quickly he swore he almost snapped his neck. There she stood, in the golden glow cast by the low-burning fire in the grate. Relief hit him so hard he felt an actual need to sit down. Instead, he strode across the room and grasped her by her upper arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a tight voice.

"I'm fine."

"I was concerned." His voice sounded harsh and more than a little accusatory, even to his own ears.

She raised her brows. "Then we are even. My heart nearly stopped when I saw my door opening in that furtive manner."

"It wasn't furtive. It was cautious. I'm relieved you are all right. When I saw the empty bed I thought…" Whatever he'd been about to say evaporated from his mind as his gaze lowered. She wore a cream dressing gown that covered her in unadorned, prim cotton from just below her chin to her toes. A long row of buttons ran down the front, and he imagined an equally plain cotton night rail lay beneath.

He'd never seen her garbed in anything other than black, and the effect was like a punch in the heart. She looked so achingly lovely, and for the first time since he'd met her, he did not feel that the shadow of another man stood between them.

"What did you think?" she asked softly. "That some man had absconded with me?"

He refocused his gaze on her face. Glossy strands of hair had worked free of her braid, lending her a sensually disheveled air. Lifting his hand, he brushed a single fingertip over the smudges marring the delicate pale skin under her eyes, marks that told him without words that she had not slept. Her pupils dilated at the whisper of a touch, and he instantly wondered what her reaction would be to a bolder, more intimate caress.

"I feared some manner of disaster had befallen you, yes," he said. "Based on the events of our acquaintance thus far, you can hardly fault my concern."

"I was not finding fault. Indeed, considering my conversation this evening with Elizabeth, I appreciate your vigilance on my behalf."

His fingers drifted down her smooth cheek. She had no idea how vigilant he intended to be. "What did Elizabeth tell you?"

"That she sensed danger. And that I should not venture off alone."

"So you know about her… feelings?"

"She told me this evening, yes. Told me she'd felt something about David… that was why she'd tried to persuade me not to marry him." A humorless laugh escaped her. "If only-" She shook her head, then stepped away from him. His hands fell to his sides, and he watched her walk across the room to stand in front of the fireplace. Sensing she needed to put some space between them, he forced himself to remain where he was.

"I cannot change the past," she said. "All I can do is learn from my mistakes."

"That is all any of us can do, Allie."

She contemplated the burning log for several seconds, then turned back to him. "This ability of Elizabeth 's, it's extraordinary."

"Indeed it is," he agreed. "Her 'feelings' saved Austin 's life. My brother William's and his family's lives as well. We are forever in her debt."

There was no mistaking her surprise. "I did not know this. It is a story I would be interested in hearing."

"Then I shall tell you. But not now. Now there are other things we need to discuss."

He watched her go still. Then she lifted her chin a notch. "What other things?"

"The fact that there is still danger facing you," he said, walking slowly toward her. Her eyes widened slightly at his deliberately measured approach, but she stood her ground. Good. He liked that she didn't back away. Liked the awareness tempered with caution flickering in her eyes. "There is also the fact that you do not need to worry about venturing off alone because I have no intention of being farther away from you than"-he halted when only two feet separated them-"this."

Reaching out, he lightly clasped her wrists. Her pulse raced beneath his fingers, pleasing him. "Then there is the matter of finishing our conversation from the carriage."

"Have you thought on the matter?" she asked.

"I've thought of nothing else."

"I see. And have you made a decision?" He had to admire her air of calm nonchalance, an effect spoiled only by the rapid quickening of her pulse.

With his eyes steady on hers, he said, "Surely there can be no doubt in your mind that I want to make love to you."

A flicker of what appeared to be relief flashed in her eyes. Yet when he said nothing further, simply stood and watched her, that relief turned to uncertainty. "Not a doubt exactly," she said, "yet I sense a 'but.' "

"I assume you've considered that you could become pregnant." He forcibly pushed aside the incredible, heart-stopping image of her, large with his child.

"Of course I considered it, but it is not a concern." She lowered her chin and stared at the floor. "I am… barren."

Everything inside him tensed, and a mental No! screamed through his head. Fate would not be so cruel. Swallowing to moisten his suddenly dry throat, he asked, "What makes you believe that?"

She raised her head and met his gaze. "I never conceived during my marriage."

His muscles relaxed somewhat. "You were not married very long."

"Eight months. Certainly long enough, especially considering how frequently we… tried."

His teeth clenched at the thought of that thieving scoundrel touching her, and he was glad the bastard would never touch her again. No man will. Except me. "Perhaps the fault was your husband's."

She shook her head. "No. The failure was mine. David was quite positive on the matter. So positive, in fact, that given what I now know about him, I would not be surprised if he'd fathered a child at some point." Bitterness compressed her lips. "Indeed, he might have fathered several. Lord knows I was not his first woman… or his last. Not being able to have children… it was difficult to accept, yet I had no choice but to do so."

Her words cut deep. He wanted children. Lots of them. And Allie would be a wonderful mother.

But what if she were truly barren?

He looked into her eyes, and his heart turned over. Yes, children were important. But she was essential. If she truly could not bear a child, then they would lavish their love on their nieces and nephews. And in the meanwhile, he'd pointed out the likelihood that her husband could have been at fault for her childless state. If the lady wasn't concerned about becoming pregnant, well, who was he to argue?

The ramifications of that seared through his brain. If she were to become pregnant with his child… that would force her to stay with him. Marry him.

Surely that thought should horrify his conscience, yet his inner voice remained silent, allowing him to rationalize that, while he would never want her to be forced into a marriage she did not want, there was not a doubt in his mind that given enough time, she would come to realize they belonged together. Certainly once they'd made love, she would know.

"Was there anything else you wished to discuss?" she asked.

Releasing her wrists, he entwined their fingers. "No. In fact, I believe I'm quite out of conversation."

She stepped forward, erasing the distance between them. The tips of her breasts brushed his shirt, igniting him. "Then perhaps you'd like to kiss me."

His gaze drifted down to her full lips, and he swelled against his breeches. "Yes, I would. For starters…"

Bending his head, he captured her mouth in a kiss he'd meant to be tender. But the instant his lips touched hers, it blazed into something hot and demanding, then scorching when she disentangled her fingers from his and ran her palms up his chest and over his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he hauled her tightly against him, while his free hand slid up her back, into her soft hair. They strained against each other, her breasts flattened against his chest, his erection cradled in the V of her thighs. Their tongues tangled in a desperate dance to taste more, delve deeper. The taste of her… sweet and spicy at the same time, her luscious honeysuckle scent, wrapped around him, invading his senses. He wanted, needed, more of her. Now.

A small inner voice warned him to slow down, but his body was beyond obeying. He felt as if he'd spent months in the desert, deprived of water, and she was an oasis. A desperate need to touch her everywhere at once overwhelmed him, fueling the hunger pounding through him. His hands skimmed restlessly down her back, cupping her rounded buttocks, then wandered up her rib cage and forward, to fill his palms with her full breasts.

She squirmed against him, and a low, animal-like growl vibrated in his throat. He wanted his hands on her skin. Needed hers on his. Breaking off their kiss, he looked down at her. Her lips were swollen and moist, her color high, her eyes glazed with arousal. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths, no less frantic than his own.

Reaching up, he cupped her face between his none-too-steady hands. "Allie…" Bloody hell, he barely recognized that rasp as his voice. "I want to go slow, gently, with you, but God help me, I don't know if I can."

Her warm breath puffed over his lips. "I don't recall asking you to go slow. In fact…" She lowered her hand down his body and stroked her fingers over his straining erection.

He sucked in a sharp breath and managed a jerky nod. "Right. We'll save slow for another time." He took one step back and set to work unfastening his shirt with an impatience he could not control. She immediately busied herself undoing the row of buttons on her dressing gown. He mourned the fact that he wasn't removing her clothing himself, but damn it, this was faster. And he wanted, needed, them skin to skin as quickly as possible.

In spite of his shaking hands, and his attention diverted by the arousing sight of her robe slipping off her shoulders, he managed to strip off his clothing in record time. He tossed his breeches aside just as her gown slithered downward to pool at her feet.

For the space of several heartbeats, they stared at each other. She was incredible. Round and womanly, soft and fragrant. Her breasts were high and full, her coral nipples pebbled with arousal. His gaze wandered downward, touching on her curved waist, then the triangle of chestnut curls nestled between her shapely thighs. By God, the instant he did not feel so desperate and about to explode, he would take the time to savor every delectable inch of her.

They reached for each other at the same time, arms going about each other, skin pressed to heated skin from chest to knee. At last. She felt so damn good… so soft and warm. He captured her mouth in another searing kiss, slipping his tongue into the silky heaven behind her lips. With his mouth fused to hers, he cupped her buttocks and lifted her up against him. She instantly wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself, her moist feminine flesh pressing against his arousal. Bloody hell, he wasn't sure he could make it to the bed. Determined not to disgrace himself, he headed swiftly across the room, tumbling her onto the mattress, then following her down.

Again his inner voice yelled for him to slow down, that his performance here was sadly lacking, and perhaps, if she'd been docile, he might have succeeded. But she clearly was as impatient and frantic as he. Spreading her legs wide, she surged her hips upward, and he sank deep into her body in one smooth, heart-stopping stroke. Her inner walls clutched him like a tight, wet, hot velvet fist, and a long moan of pure feminine satisfaction rumbled from her throat.

She undulated beneath him, rubbing her aroused nipples against his chest, and he lost any semblance of control he might have imagined he still possessed. His world narrowed to the place where their bodies were intimately joined. Nothing existed except her… her skin against his, his heart pounding against hers. Mindless, his muscles moving of their own accord, he thrust into her with long, hard strokes, touching her deeper and higher each time. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and he was vaguely aware of her fingers digging into his skin.

He felt the spasms pulse deep within her, and her low, guttural growl of pleasure vibrated against his ear. Helpless to contain his own release any longer, he buried his face against her neck and throbbed inside her for an endless, intense moment, spilling his seed, and what felt like his soul, inside her.

God help him, he could not move. Could not so much as flex his fingers. He did not know how long it took sanity to return, but when it did, it smacked him like a brick to the head.

What the devil had happened to him? What had come over him? He'd totally, completely, lost control of himself. Of his mind and body. In a way he never had before. He'd shown her a completely appalling lack of mastery and finesse, and certainly less consideration than he'd ever shown any previous lover, a fact which filled him with self-disgust and guilt.

Summoning what strength he could, he lifted his head and propped his upper-body weight on his forearms. He gazed down at her, and caught his still-not-fully-returned breath.

Her eyes were closed, her sable lashes resting against smooth cheeks hectic with color. Her shiny hair lay in tangled disarray on the sheet, her braid completely undone. Her lips were parted, and he gave in to his urge to drop a soft kiss upon them.

Her eyes opened slowly, and heat rushed through him at her dazed expression. The tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten the lips he'd just kissed. She said nothing, just stared up at him, a kaleidoscope of impossible-to-read emotions flickering in her rapidly clearing eyes.

Unease pulled at him. Damn it, what was she thinking? He knew she'd found her release. He'd felt her orgasm shimmer through her, pulsing around him, driving him mad. But was it possible she had not felt the same magic, the same intensity as he? Everything inside him protested the mere thought. No. She had to have felt it… that same fire that had damn near incinerated him.

A jumble of feelings crowded into his brain, declarations that demanded to be verbalized, but he pushed them away. For now. It was too soon. He needed to take one step at a time. So far, lacking finesse or not, he'd engaged her body. Her heart would soon follow. He refused to consider anything else. Yet he could not deny that he'd employed all the expertise of a green boy.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm afraid I quite lost control of myself. Next time will be better for you. I promise."

Allie's heart lurched at his words, and she remained silent for several breathless seconds, studying him. His hair was disheveled from her frantic fingers, one dark lock dipping over his forehead in a way that begged her to touch the soft strands. His cheeks were ruddy from his exertions, his mouth slightly reddened from their devouring kisses. And his eyes… they were so dark and intense, steadily regarding her with a potent expression she'd never seen before. One that made her feel so… she didn't know.

Could this-whatever it was-be that elusive something she'd unsuccessfully sought during her marriage? The question raised an onslaught of unwanted emotions she was not prepared to examine now. Later… she would think later. There would be plenty of time… later. Right now, all she wanted to do was feel… experience more of the magic he'd wrought with his hands and body.

She stretched like a contented cat beneath him, reveling in the glorious sensation of his weight pressing her into the mattress, his crisp chest hair grazing her sensitive nipples. That brief glimpse she'd been treated to of his naked form, before they'd fallen upon each other like starved creatures presented with a feast, had turned her insides to porridge and shot liquid heat directly to her womb. Tall, muscular, broad shoulders… and that fascinating ribbon of dark hair that bisected his ridged abdomen, then spread to cradle his most impressive arousal. A shiver of anticipation skittered down her spine, and a smile born of all the wicked delight coursing through her pulled at her lips.

"Better for me?" she repeated. "Oh, my. I wouldn't have thought such a thing possible… but if you insist it is, I shall anxiously await next time. Have you any idea when that might be, Sir M.M.Q.?"

"M.M.Q.?"

She brushed a fingertip over his bottom lip. "Makes Me Quiver."

Lowering his head, he traced the sensitive shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue, then whispered, "Actually, I have a very good idea when the next time might be."

Another delicate shiver ran through her. "Hmmm. I hope it's soon."

"I was thinking about now."

"Now sounds lovely."

"Indeed it does."

Pushing himself up, Robert settled back onto his knees between her splayed legs and took the time he'd been too impatient to take earlier, to savor the sight of her.

She looked like a golden-bronze temptress, bathed in firelight, her skin glowing with the exertion of their frantic mating. His gaze leisurely appreciated her dusky nipples, her abdomen, the charming indent of her navel, then the alluring dark curls between her thighs. He inhaled, and the musky scent they'd created together filled his head.

She regarded him with a half-serious, half-playful sinful expression that fired heat straight to his groin. Reaching out, he touched one finger to the delicate hollow of her throat, then dragged his fingertip slowly downward, arousing one plump nipple, then the other, with a feathery caress, his hand a dark contrast against her pale skin. When her breathing turned into a series of long sighs, he leaned forward and replaced his fingers with his tongue, slowly laving her breasts, then drawing the taut peaks into his mouth. The scent of honeysuckle rose from her damp flesh, mixing with the musk of their joining, intoxicating him.

Her sighs turned into moans, and she combed her fingers through his hair, thrusting her breasts upward, encouraging him to take more into his mouth. Her hips undulated, rubbing her inner thighs against his legs. He discovered an enchanting trio of freckles just below her left breast that occupied his lips for several minutes. Then he explored further, running his tongue slowly downward toward her stomach, savoring every quiver of her skin, every hill and valley of her feminine form, along the way. When he dipped his tongue into her navel, she responded with a husky groan that notched up his temperature several degrees.

"Robert…"

Every nerve in his body caught fire at the sound of his name coming from her lips in that passion-roughed whisper. He straightened, settling back on his heels, then looked into her eyes, which seemed to breathe golden-brown smoke. Need, hot and strong and impatient, clawed at him.

Gliding his palms over her smooth thighs, he gently pushed her legs wider apart, revealing her glistening feminine flesh to his avid gaze. Reaching out, he caressed her wet, swollen folds with a gentle circular motion, his gaze alternating between his fingers and her expressive face. Her body writhed sensually beneath his touch, and her uninhibited response aroused him to the breaking point. And that's where he wanted her-at the breaking point. The instant he sensed she was there, he withdrew his hand. Her sharp groan of protest filled the room, spiking his now nearly desperate need.

Leaning over her, his weight supported on his hands, he lightly teased her with the head of his arousal. The satiny, wet feel of her, coupled with her gasp of pleasure, arrowed sensation through him. He looked down, between their bodies, watching as he slowly entered her, sinking into her snug, moist heat.

Her purr of satisfaction brought his gaze back to her face. Their gazes met and held, and he knew that the naked need and want in her eyes was mirrored in his own.

"Allie." Her name whispered past his lips like a prayer, unable to be contained. She reached up, running restless fingers over his face, his lips, before pulling his head down to hers for a deep, intimate kiss. She raised her hands above her head, and he ran his palms up her arms, entwining their fingers. Then, breaking their kiss, he watched her as he moved slowly within her, withdrawing nearly all the way out of her body, only to glide deep again. A dozen expressions of pleasure and wonder flitted across her face, and he mentally recorded each one, as he memorized each of her breathy sighs.

When he increased the depth of his thrusts, her eyes slid closed. "Look at me," he whispered. Her lids fluttered open, and with gazes locked, he stroked her harder, faster, until she tensed beneath him, arching her back, moaning out her release. With a final deep thrust, he buried his face in her fragrant neck and followed her over the edge.

Robert came awake slowly, his senses rousing themselves one at a time. Sprawled on his back, the first thing he noticed was silky, warm skin pressed against his side. Allie. Satisfaction eased through him and he drew in a deep, contented breath. A hint of honeysuckle, mixed with the erotic redolence of spent passion, brought his sense of smell to life, filling his head with images of their night together. Opening his eyes, he looked at his lover.

His heart swelled at the word. Lover. His lover slept next to him, on her side, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. One of her slender arms was thrown across his chest, her hand resting above his heart. The weight of a shapely leg curved to rest over his thighs.

Her long hair fanned out like a chestnut halo, spilling over her shoulders, onto his chest. He gently rubbed the silky strands between his thumb and forefinger. Like the rest of her, her hair was beautiful. And satiny soft.

Her warm breath puffed against his shoulder, filling him with a rush of possessiveness unlike anything he'd ever before experienced. This woman was his. They belonged together. After the passion they'd shared during the night, the emotional and physical bond they'd forged, she could not possibly refute it. When she awoke, she would know. With the same certainty he did.

The sound of rain lashing against glass drew his gaze to the windows. The storm that had threatened earlier was upon them. He looked at the mantel clock and sighed. Almost dawn. The household would soon stir. As much as he hated to leave her, he needed to return to his own bedchamber. Now-before he was discovered in a manner that would impinge her honor and reputation. Now-before he gave in to the temptation to kiss her awake and continue their sensual exploration of each other.

Easing himself from the bed, he quickly gathered his clothing. With one last look at her sleeping from, he slipped silently from the room, secure in the knowledge that he would not have to leave her bed like this for much longer. For soon she would be his wife.

Lester Redfern looked out the dingy window of his small room and uttered a curse. Here it were, rainin' like to make up for a century-long drought. He ground the stubs of his teeth together. He should have left London yesterday, but he hadn't wanted to miss the cockfight at The Hound's Tooth last night. He'd won five quid, but now it seemed liked a poor wager. How the bloody hell were he supposed to know the skies would open up? Now how were he supposed to get to Bradford Hall? The roads would be nothin' but wheel-eatin' ruts. The only other choice were horseback, but he didn't own a bloody horse, and he hated the beasts besides. Nasty, ill-tempered, stupid brutes that bit him and smelted. Not to mention the poundin' his arse would take ridin' all that way. Could things get any bloody worse? The instant the question popped into his mind, he shoved it aside. With the way his luck were run-nin', it were best not to ask.

But, if he didn't go, didn't get the earl's bloody note from that bloody woman… his eye twitched and he swallowed hard. No, not goin' to the country weren't an option. Rain or no, he had to go. Had to finish this damn business once and for all.

Today.