A Notorious Love Page 9

  And the last thing she wanted was for Daniel to realize it.

  She forced a smile to her lips. “You go on out and speak to the ostler. I…er…need to…make use of the necessary. I’ll join you outside when I’m done.”

  “All right.” With a scrape of his chair, he stood and waited for her to rise, so she made a show of drawing on her gloves, then removing her packet of cloves from her pocket. He finally shrugged and headed out of the common room.

  As soon as he had gone, she popped a clove in her mouth and glanced furtively around. The room was still virtually deserted, with only the innkeeper’s daughter cleaning tables. She scooted her chair back and reached for her cane. She could do this. What did it matter if her legs felt shaky? Or her joints throbbed? All she had to do was hobble to the horse. Then Daniel would lift her into the saddle and she’d be fine.

  She chewed a moment longer on her clove, futilely hoping the bitter spice might steel her for the task at hand, then discarded it on her plate. Clasping her cane in one hand and the edge of the table in the other, she pushed herself to a stand. She managed to stay on her feet long enough to take one step away from the table.

  Then her legs buckled and she collapsed.

  Chapter 7

  And if you dare to kiss my lips

  Sure of your body I will be.

  “Thomas the Rhymer,”

  anonymous ballad

  Daniel was talking to the ostler when the innkeeper’s daughter ran out of the Blue Boar. “Sir, sir!” she called out. “Come at once! Your wife has fallen!”

  Daniel’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What happened?” he asked, immediately heading for the inn.

  “I’m not sure, sir. I—I was cleaning the tables and then I heard a crash—”

  “And you left her there?” he growled and stalked past her.

  She hastened after him. “Mama is with her.”

  When they entered the common room, her mother was grumbling and futilely trying to lift Helena under the arms. Daniel took one look at the crooked position of Helena’s legs on the polished oak floor and felt his insides lurch sickeningly.

  “Let me be!” Helena protested to the other woman with a face flushed scarlet. “Truly, madam, if you will just leave me alone for a moment, I can—”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Daniel told the blundering older woman, who was only too happy to relinquish her responsibility. Striding to Helena’s side, Daniel bent and scooped her up in his arms.

  “No, you can’t…you must put me down…it’s not prop—”

  “Stubble it,” he growled under his breath, “before you give everything away.”

  Though her blush crept to her ears, she hooked her arms about his neck and clung to him as he stalked toward the door to the common room.

  “Have you a parlor where my wife and I can be private?” he threw back over his shoulder at the innkeeper’s wife.

  “Yes, sir. Second door to the right once you reach the hall.”

  “There’s no need for this,” Helena whimpered as he headed that way. “If you will just set me on my feet—”

  “So you can fall again?” he muttered. “Not bloody likely.”

  He entered the parlor, kicked the door shut behind him, then strode to a settee and lowered her onto it. As soon as he released her, she tried to stand but couldn’t manage it, and her pathetic attempt made him furious, as much at himself as at her.

  “Don’t you dare try to get up!” He glowered down at her. “Tell me, Helena. When was the last time you rode a horse?”

  “J-just a few weeks ago.”

  “Don’t lie to me, or I swear to God I’ll take you over my knee. You haven’t yet seen me tyrannical. Now how long has it been? And this time try the truth!”

  She blinked, then sank against the cushioned settee with a defeated sigh. “Eight years. Not since before my illness.”

  “Bloody hell.” He should’ve known. He’d seen all the signs, but he’d ignored them. He should’ve realized that if he’d never seen her ride at Swan Park, and her own father said she didn’t, then she couldn’t. How could he have let it go this far?

  Anger drove him to pace before the cold hearth. “I can guess why you lied to me in the first place, but once you were having difficulty, why didn’t you say something? Why did you let me think you were managing all right?”

  “Because I was managing all right.”

  He snorted. “I can see how well you managed.” He stopped short in front of her. “Must you be so bloody proud about everything? Why not admit you can’t ride?” He dragged his fingers through his hair in utter distraction. “You could’ve hurt yourself badly, y’know. You could’ve broken something when you fell. We don’t know for sure that you didn’t!” The very thought made him ill.

  “I-I would have felt it—”

  “The way you felt that you couldn’t stand? You should have told me!”

  “If I had, you would have sent me back!”

  Her cry echoed stark and painfully simple in the cramped room.

  Of course. Bloody stubborn woman. It was one thing to be plucky; it was quite another to recklessly risk her own health.

  “I still will,” he said softly. “So your lack of regard for your own safety has gained you naught, d’you hear? When I think of how you looked—”

  With a curse, he turned away before she could see his face. It made his gut knot to remember her crumpled on the floor, her legs twisted under her, her cane tangled in her skirts. “What the devil am I to do with you now? Going on by horseback is out of the question for you.”

  “If…if you’d just set me on the horse, I could probably manage to ride.”

  “You’re either stupid or daft as a bedlamite! The only thing you’ll be riding is a coach seat back to London, damn you!” He whirled back around. “And I swear—”

  He halted at the sight of her face. She was crying, with delicate little tears that trembled on the tips of her eyelashes before falling oh so softly onto her cheeks. Like a swan, she made no sound. He wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t looked at her, she was trying that hard to hold them back.

  Bloody hell, he’d made her cry, and he’d never made a woman cry in his life, except to cry out during lovemaking. That showed how badly she’d shaken him, for he’d always been careful of women’s feelings. Not to mention that bringing a lady as proud as her to tears took real effort.

  When she caught him staring at her she ducked her head, but that only made it worse, for now he noticed her trembling shoulders, which rose and fell with her tears. Now he could hear her, too, the tiny gasps and starts of a woman weeping.

  It tore him straight to the heart. “Christ, don’t cry,” he grumbled as he dropped his big frame onto the settee. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not stupid or daft. I…” He trailed off, helpless in the face of such pitiful female misery. “Shhh, lass, don’t go on so.” For lack of any better way to soothe her, he laid his hand on her shoulder.

  She lifted her head to reveal red-rimmed eyes and a rosy nose. “You can’t send me back. Please, Daniel, I promise not to make any more trouble. I’ll hire a gig or something fast that I can drive myself.”

  “Helena—” he began, meaning to reason with her.

  “I-I realize I should have told you about the riding, but I knew you wouldn’t let me go if I did, and I truly thought I could manage it. It’s only that my bad leg is so very weak and my good one was overtaxed and…” She trailed off with a choked sound, then mastered herself enough to mutter through gritted teeth, “I hate my leg! It won’t do anything I need it to do!”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s not true. But you can’t expect it to get used to riding again all at once. Give it a chance.”

  “We don’t have time for that.” Her teary gaze fixed on him. “But I can go with you if we just make other arrangements.”

  He sighed, glancing beyond her to the whitewashed wall punctuated by oak beams. “Don’t you trust me to find
her?”

  “It’s not that. I have to go with you.”

  His gaze swung back to her. “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “Because it’s my fault she’s in this fix,” she wailed as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “If I’d been more careful, if I’d only noticed how she—”

  “Hush, lass, it’s nobody’s fault, and it’s sure as hell not yours.”

  Settling against the hard-backed settee, he tugged her into his arms, wanting to comfort her. To his surprise, she accepted his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It felt natural, too, and sweet, making him want to hold her even closer.

  She laid her cheek against his chest, her tears flowing like a damned spigot, dampening his coat, his shirt, his cravat. When he took out his handkerchief and handed it to her, she soaked that, too.

  “I saw the way…he looked at her,” she stammered through her sobs. “I even knew…Mr. Morgan…Mr. Pryce…was…up to no good. I should have…watched her more…carefully.”

  “You can’t stop a grown woman from doing what she wants,” he murmured. If he’d learned anything from this escapade, it was that. He pulled her closer, cursing himself for making her cry. Her bonnet poked him in the nose, so he tugged it off and tossed it to the floor. “Short of locking Juliet in her room, you couldn’t have stopped her, even if you had guessed what she was planning.”

  Her sobs were petering out, but she still shook like a buffeted willow. He cradled her head against his chest just beneath his chin, trying to ignore the delicious scent of honey water in her hair as he crooned reassurances to settle her down.

  “Besides,” he murmured in a weak attempt at humor, “how do you know she wasn’t trying to prod you out of Swan Park, and give you a bit of adventure?”

  At least that dried up her tears. “That’s not funny,” she said in a small voice.

  “Don’t s’pose it is,” he admitted. “But truly, lass, she’ll be all right. I’ll get to her even if I have to book passage to Scotland. You needn’t worry.”

  “I can’t help worrying.” She pushed away enough to lift her tear-drenched face. “I’ll drive myself mad unless you let me go. Promise me you will. Please…”

  He rubbed away her tears with his thumb. “You’d be better off—”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Promise me. I’ll pay for a coach or a gig, whatever you wish. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, I swear, and you’ll have nothing to worry about from me.”

  “All right, damn it,” he murmured to stave off her litany. “We’ll hire a coach and go on that way, but—”

  Her face lit up at once. “Thank you, Daniel, thank you!”

  “Let me finish. We’ll go on as soon as I’m sure you haven’t hurt your leg.” He hated making even that concession.

  “I’m sure I haven’t.”

  “That’s for me to determine, since I can’t trust you to tell me the truth.” He lifted her lame leg and set it across his lap before she could protest, then shoved up her skirts to examine it.

  “It’s fine…truly…you needn’t…” She trailed off as he caught her leg and began gently kneading the calf, watching her face for any sign of pain that signaled a fracture.

  He saw not even a wince, but she did blush prettily and avert her face. That’s when it dawned on him that he had her leg in his hands again, just where he wanted it. What’s more, her lovely, frail calf was not only uninjured, but as shapely as he remembered.

  He told himself to release it. Instead he continued kneading, but more slowly, indulging in the luxury of her soft female flesh, savoring the delicacy of it, the way it moved so smoothly beneath her stockings.

  Within seconds, the unquenchable thing inside his breeches stiffened, mad with the pleasure of touching her. He began to consider outrageous possibilities, like removing her stocking, peeling it down past her knees and right off.

  “I think my leg is…all right,” she whispered. “I’ll be able to stand on it once I can rest it.”

  Still, he was loath to let go. “Are you certain?” he asked, drawing out the moment. He smoothed his thumbs over her knee, then up her trim thigh.

  Her eyes widened, not with horror as he expected, but with anticipation, even excitement. His fingers no longer kneaded but caressed. She blushed again and shivered.

  His blood pounded through his veins. So she felt it, too, did she? She mightn’t know what to make of it, she mightn’t approve of it, but she surely felt the powerful shock of awareness fracturing the scant air between them.

  If he had an ounce of sense he’d flee the room and preserve his sanity. But when it came to her, his common sense always went on holiday. He leaned forward, unable to tear his gaze from her flushed cheeks and trembling chin. And her mouth—her fine, dainty mouth, opening on a breath.

  “Bloody hell…” he whispered, and then his own mouth was covering hers.

  Her lips were sweet and spiced with cloves, soft as a swan’s breast. Though every instinct warned against kissing her, he ignored them. He took advantage of her willingness, measuring the heat of her mouth, the silky texture, all the things he’d wondered about when he’d been mad enough to imagine this.

  He’d wanted to kiss her since he’d first spied her on the terrace at Swan Park last summer. Now he needed to do it too badly to stop, even if she slapped him afterward or froze up again.

  Except she did neither. True, she remained utterly still at first. But then she softened into pure, lovely woman, giving him all the encouragement he needed. “That’s it, Helena. Relax,” he murmured against her mouth before taking it again.

  Helena wanted to laugh at the command. Relax? Impossible! He was kissing her, for heaven’s sake, like no man had ever kissed her before. It dazed her, intrigued her, excited her. It made her want to kiss him back. Somehow Daniel had undermined her defenses before she could even erect them, and now it was too late.

  All she wanted was to go on like this forever, with his mouth on hers, stealing her breath, giving it back, heating her lips with the warmth of his own.

  Until he ran his tongue along her lips, startling her. She jerked back to find his gaze wild and hungry on her. He brought his hand up to clasp her chin, sliding the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, pressing it down a trifle.

  “Open your mouth for me this time, lass,” he murmured.

  She barely had a chance to prepare herself before he was kissing her once more, his hand holding her still for it, the palm firm against her throat.

  Again his tongue swept her lips. Open your mouth. That sounded as fascinating as it did naughty, so she complied.

  The moment her lips parted, he sank his tongue inside to touch hers, to tangle intimately with it. Dimly she wondered if there was any stricture in Mrs. N’s guide about letting a man thrust his tongue into one’s mouth—but then she stopped caring.

  Because it was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Hot and sensuous and delicious. He plunged slowly in and out, teasing all the sensitive parts of her mouth until she felt loose and fluid from head to toe.

  Then he dragged her onto his lap. Although her leg had already lain there, it was a shock to find her bottom suddenly resting between his hard thighs. She tore her lips away in a panic. “You must stop this,” she said shakily, pressing her hands against his chest.

  “I’d rather not.” Deprived of her lips, he scattered kisses along her cheekbone and down the slope of her neck. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  Pride demanded that she make some resistance as a proper lady. But the thundering excitement in her chest demanded that she not only let him do these scandalous things, but participate. She began to understand how Rosalind had let herself get into trouble with Griff.

  When he nuzzled her neck and then her ear, his whiskers abraded her skin, yet that intensified the secret thrill of it. Her breathing grew erratic. “Please, Daniel…don’t…” Yet her hands clutched his coat.

  He chuckled, the sound guttural against her ear. “You’ll have to d
o better than that, lass. I thought you wished to know what all the fuss is about?”

  “I-I never said that—you did.”

  “Yes, but you thought it, didn’t you?” He laved her ear with his tongue, making her gasp. How could something so odd feel so good? “I’ll wager you’ve wondered about it more than once, too.” His hands stroked her back now, up and down in long sweeps that made fiery shivers dance along her spine. What if he were to put his hand on her breast the way that man in the street—

  She groaned. He was right—she did wonder. “Perhaps I am a trifle curious…but that doesn’t mean I want you to…that you should…”

  “If you don’t like it, show me,” he rasped. “Let go of my coat. Slap me. I’m a big man; I can take it.”

  Slapping him was the furthest thing from her mind, and the rascal knew it.

  He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her ear. “It’s a paltry thing to endure for the chance of kissing you.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “Ah, lass, you rouse my appetite so sorely. I’ve been aching to make a meal of you for such a long time…”

  A vague image of him nibbling and kissing her naked flesh—all her naked flesh—tantalized her, then angered her. Devouring naked women was his forte, was it not? “I suppose you say that to your fancy women, too.”

  “Trust me, you’re the fanciest woman I’ve ever kissed, my beauty, and certainly the only one I’d try to win with words.”

  Disturbed by the sudden notion that he might consider her a kind of…elite conquest, she tried to wriggle from his lap, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he caught her face in his hands and made her look at him. “Or p’raps I shouldn’t try words with you a’tall, since you’ll turn them wrong in your head.” Kissing the tip of her nose, he whispered, “For once, let yourself feel. Just feel.”

  He feathered his lips down the curve of her nostril, brushed them over the corner of her mouth, then pressed them once more to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth again, taking what it wanted and making her insides jump and quiver. This she liked—the kissing. He did it so well, made it so…thrilling.