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At home Colin paced the bed chamber. Daphne had been thrilled at the second avenue of possibility for bringing Battersea to justice. But if he was to catch the earl luring innocent girls to a secret house or abducting them and transporting them to the countryside, it would take time and effort. Colin didn’t mind the effort. Who knew what other interesting tidbits about Battersea might turn up if he began to follow the man?
The problem was the time. Battersea must know where Daphne was now, and she was no longer safe. Colin couldn’t very well spend his time following the earl if his wife was in danger. Nor could he lock her up indefinitely. Battersea would find a way to get in, and she was not the sort to be content surrounded by the same four walls for long.
He looked over at her now. She was sitting at her dressing table, applying some sort of cream to her face. When he’d come in, her maid had been taking down her hair and brushing it. The sight of that loose silvery blond hair trailing down her back made his hands itch. He wished he could tell the maid to leave and take Daphne’s hair down himself.
Instead, he’d retreated to the dressing room until the maid had departed. And he hadn’t yet touched Daphne or even spoken to her. He didn’t know if she wanted him to touch her after the way he’d behaved after their lovemaking last night.
“I still don’t understand why we can’t just ask his staff to testify against him,” Daphne said, her voice breaking the relative quiet in the room.
Colin looked at her and their eyes met in the mirror above her table. He was glad to have a reason to look at her. “The word of a footman or groom will not hold up against that of an earl.” She should know that.
“But what if we asked three or four to testify? Certainly, no judge would think that many men and women lied.”
She was grasping now, and he knew she only did so because she was desperate. “I want him caught too,” he said, moving behind her. “But if we misstep and alert him to our plans, he’ll only cover his tracks. We need to catch him in flagrante delicto, so to speak. Then the word of his staff and Captain Gladwell will hold more weight.”
The faint scent of roses drifted to his nose, and he wondered if the cream was scented with rose.
“What if I made a complaint against him?”
“What complaint?” Colin asked. “He’s done nothing to you, and all that you suspect is based on rumor.”
“It was hardly rumor to the baroness he killed!”
Colin placed his hands on Daphne’s shoulders. She wore her pale pink robe, and her shoulders felt slight and cold under the silk. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”
Her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I really thought the captain would help us. I’m so tired of being frightened and jumping at every sound. I feel as though I’ll never be able to walk down the street or ride in the park without looking over my shoulder.”
“Then I’ll just have to entertain you inside for the present.”
Her eyes opened, and they were dark when she met his in the glass. “How do you propose to do that?”
He hadn’t meant to say it. He’d just wanted to say something to comfort her. He hadn’t even meant it in a sexual way, but he was certainly thinking along those lines now.
He bent, brushed her hair off her shoulders, and kissed the delicate skin behind her ear. “Would you allow me to take you to bed?”
She made a sound like a low purr and shivered in his arms. “Will you run away as soon as you’ve had me?”
The idea of staying, of risking caring more for her, needing her, tied his belly in knots. But he couldn’t quite put the necessary distance between them yet. He still wanted her too much. “I promise I’ll stay this time. Just let me kiss you.”
She stood and pushed the chair back, forcing him to take a step backward. “And what if I want to kiss you?” she asked.
His brow rose. She had never been a woman who was afraid to say what she wanted. Daughters of dukes were known for getting their way. But he hadn’t expected her forwardness to make him so hot and eager. “I have no objection.”
She stepped close to him, looking at up at him until he could hardly hold himself back from kissing her. Finally, she brought one of her soft hands to his face and brushed her fingers over his lips. “You have such skilled lips,” she murmured. “I’m rather fond of your lips.” Her eyes met his. “And your tongue.”
He reached out and took her in his arms, pulling her hard against him. Her body quivered with anticipation. He loved how responsive she was to him, how much she wanted him. She didn’t try to hide her desire or act demurely. She knew what she wanted. “If you don’t kiss me soon, wife, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
“Don’t get me started on your hands,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and brushing her lips over his. A thrill of arousal zinged through him, waking his body from head to foot. Every single muscle and hair and fiber of his being was aware of the feel of her mouth on his, her hands in his hair, her breasts pushed against his chest. She kissed him more firmly, opening her mouth slightly then rocking against his burgeoning erection. He groaned as he went rock hard. How had he existed for so many years without her? His hands swept over her body, touching every inch of her, unable to get enough.
“You are wearing too many clothes,” she said, stepping back.
“I was about to say the same to you.”
She shrugged. “You first.” And then when he didn’t move to undress, she circled him, her hand trailing along his buttocks. “Don’t make me wait, Colin.”
She moved to the bed and lay back, propping herself on her elbows to watch him. He wanted to go to her there, spread her legs, and take her with her chemise and robe around her hips. Instead, he slipped off his coat. No woman had ever watched him undress before and no one had ever watched him as intently as she did. Every article he removed—his waistcoat, his neckcloth, his boots—caused some sort of reaction from her, be it a sound of pleasure or a nod of approval.
Finally, he wore only his trousers and his shirt. He reached for the placket of the trousers, and she shook her head. “The shirt first. Draw it over your head.” She illustrated by pulling her robe and chemise up over her knees. “Slowly.”
His eyes remained on hers as he pulled the tails free and lifted the shirt up, revealing his chest. When he’d dropped it on the floor and looked back at her, her legs were slightly open, revealing the pink of her sex. Colin couldn’t seem to look away until she said. “Now the trousers.”
“What about you?” He felt slightly vulnerable standing before her with her gaze so hot on his body. He could almost forget it when he glanced at her with her legs slightly parted, giving him a view of what waited.
“I promise I’ll take everything off once you do,” she said.
He didn’t move.
“You want a gesture of goodwill?”
“Please,” he said, his voice rough.
She loosened the belt at her waist and sat. The robe slid down one shoulder, giving him a view of her bare skin and the hint of her round breast under her thin chemise. Her hand went to the bow between her breasts and she toyed with it for a moment before pulling it slowly free. The bodice of the chemise gaped open and she allowed it to slip over one pale breast until it caught on her protruding nipple. “Take off your trousers,” she said again, and he didn’t hesitate. She licked her lips when his cock sprang free. But before he could join her on the bed, she rose and walked to him. The chemise slipped further down, revealing her pink nipple, jutting slightly upward. She sank to her knees before him, and he wanted to tell her she did not have to do this. Wives did not do this sort of thing. Instead, he slipped her robe off her shoulders as well as the other sleeve of her chemise so both breasts were revealed when her tongue darted out to lick from him from root to tip. He gripped her shoulders and tried to remain on his feet as she licked back down. Her hands came up to slide along his thighs then between them as she cupped his testicles.
“‘What a piece of work is a man,’” she quoted.
He almost laughed. “Shakespeare now?”
“Why not? I’ll teach you to laugh at me.” She closed her mouth over his tip, her warmth enveloping him and making him dizzy with want. Then she sucked slightly, and he jumped in her hand. She pulled back. “You like that.”
“I like everything about you.”
“Lie down on the bed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you have planned? It will be easier for me to use my mouth and tongue on you if you are the one to lie down.”
“Do you want to argue or do you want me to take my clothing off?”
He went to the bed and lay down, turning to face her with his head resting on his elbows. When she had his attention, she gave him her back and allowed her garments to slide, quite slowly, down her straight back, over her round bottom, and to drop past her shapely legs and pool on the carpet. She turned to look at him, giving him a view of one slightly upturned breast.
“Come here,” he said, his voice low. She turned slowly and walked toward him, hips swaying. He wanted to touch her, smell her, bury himself deep inside her. But when he reached for her, she caught his hand and brushed it over a nipple. Then she climbed onto the bed and over him, straddling him about the waist.
She bent and kissed him, and he didn’t wait to see how she wanted it. He was in no mood for slow and soft. He took her mouth, and she met his passion with her own, their tongues tangling as their breathing sped up. He filled his hands with her flesh—hips, thighs, breasts—then reached between her legs and felt the hot wetness there.
“Yes,” she said against his lips. He stroked her, and she moved against his hand, her bottom nudging his erection. He began to flip her over, but she shook her head. “I want you like this.”
“And what do you know about this position?”
“I have a good imagination and—as I’ve said before—ladies do talk.” She lifted her bottom and his cock was enveloped in her heat as her sex slid over him. Her fingers locked with his as she slowly took him inside her. When he was buried halfway, she paused and looked down at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “I don’t think I can take more.”
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“Go slowly.”
She pushed up, lifting herself up and then down, driving him to madness but taking more of him each time. Her cheeks were pink and her chest heaving as she rode him, and when she took him completely, she cried out in delight and ecstasy. He tried to move inside her, but she clenched her knees around him. “My turn,” she said and began to rock against him. He tried to think of anything but the way her breasts jiggled and her hips swiveled and her sex gripped him tightly. He tried not to watch her, but it was impossible to look away, especially when she cupped her own breasts and squeezed her nipples. He was buried deep then and she rocked quickly.
He was completely spellbound, and when her gaze, hazy with passion, locked with his, he didn’t look away. He let her see his desire and his need. He couldn’t stop her from seeing his love. Her eyes reflected it back to him.
“Colin,” she breathed, her voice with wonder. Her mouth opened in an O, and he felt her muscles tighten, release, then tighten again and she said yes, yes, yes on an exhale.
The feel of her orgasm and her muscles clenching around him drove him over the edge. He gripped her hips to hold on as he came, hard but slow so that it seemed as though the orgasm went on and on. When he could breathe again, he realized she’d collapsed on top of him, her skin slick with perspiration and hot with arousal. The scent of their mingled bodies lingered in the air, and he was still inside her. He trailed his hand up her back and then down over her bottom. His chest felt heavy, not from her weight, but from emotions he did not want to examine too closely. He wanted to say something—not I love you; God, not that—something that would let her know this—she—meant something to him. That what she’d seen in his eyes was true and real.
He opened his mouth and remembered the words of his first love: you’re just a silly little boy.
Daphne wouldn’t say that. He knew it, but his chest tightened now when he thought of opening himself to her. His cheek stung with the memory of his grandfather’s slap.
Stop sniveling and act like a man.
He needed air. He needed space.
“I have an idea,” Daphne said. That gave Colin pause.
“I rather like your ideas,” he admitted. Give him fifteen minutes, and he would be ready to push her on her knees. He could escape afterward.
“I know you are thinking of running away.” She pushed up, propped her head on her hand, and looked down at him.
“I don’t run away.”
“Well, your heart began to pound just now and your whole body tensed. I supposed I had better speak now before you...disappear.”
He could hardly be annoyed with her. She was so lovely, looking down at him with her hair falling over one pink cheek and her lips soft and moist and ready to kiss.
Anticipating the direction of his thoughts, she put a finger over his lips. “You said we need to catch Battersea in the act—in flagrante delicto, you said.”
“It can be done, but it will take time.”
“What if I served as a lure? If he abducts me, we could catch him more quickly.”
Colin’s heart squeezed so tightly he could not breathe. He pushed up and away and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He had to gulp in air like a fish out of water.
“No,” he managed in a strangled voice.
“Why?” she asked. “It’s the answer to all our problems.”
“No!” He stood and walked away, ignoring his nudity. “No. The point is to keep you out of his path. I won’t deliberately put you in it.” He turned to face her. “He’s dangerous, Daphne. If anything went wrong—if I couldn’t get to you—”
Her blue eyes were wide as she sat among the tousled sheets and stared at him. “You really do care about me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
But her eyes were bright as though she had just been blessed with divine inspiration. “It has everything to do with—well, everything. I didn’t understand before. You act as though you care for me and yet you won’t admit it. You can’t seem to wait to escape me—”
“Daphne, this isn’t—”
“I see why now. You’re scared something will happen to me. You are as scared of losing me as I am of losing you!”
“I’m a man.” He picked his trousers up from the floor and shoved one leg into them. “I’m not scared.”
She gave him a dubious look. “We’ve both been hurt before, Colin, but we can’t keep expecting the worst. I have to trust you, and you have to give me a chance.”
He fastened the placket of his trousers and looked for his shirt. He had to end this conversation. He wasn’t ready to talk about his feelings or his fears. “Why don’t we focus on the real problem—Battersea. The idea of you acting as bait is ludicrous, and the answer is no.” He tossed his shirt over his head and shoved his arms through the sleeves.
“Where are you going? Stay and talk to me.” She slid out of bed, and he had to make an effort not to look at her lovely body.
“I’ll be back,” he said, gathering his coat, boots, and waistcoat in one arm.
“Do you really plan to run from me forever?” She put her hands on her hips and stared at him defiantly.
“I have a meeting at my club. I’ll be back after that.” He couldn’t quite stop his gaze from sliding over her.
With the image of her—naked, hands on her hips, in the center of their bedchamber—etched in his mind, he pulled on the rest of his clothing as he strode downstairs, gave the servants orders not to admit anyone and to lock all doors and windows, then walked out of the house.
As soon as he was on the street, he bent and gulped for air. His chest hurt as his heart pounded it from the inside like a hammer. Did she not understand that he could not lose her? Why would she even suggest putting herself in harm’s way? If he lost her, if anything happened to her—
Colin closed his eyes. He could not go through the pain of loss like that again. And look at him! He was doubled over on the street at just the thought of losing Daphne. This was why he’d stayed away. This was why he’d refused to let himself feel too much for her.
But damn it all to hell! She’d broken through his wall, kicked a hole in his defenses, and now she just wanted to stick a bellows in the opening and fan the fire.
Colin finally caught his breath and began to walk, aimlessly at first, and then in the direction of the Draven Club.
He shouldn’t have left her. He’d promised he wouldn’t. This wasn’t just about him anymore. He’d hurt her in the past, and he would hurt her again if he continued rebuffing her attempts to get close to him. She loved him. That was no small thing. She wanted him to tell her he lo—that he cared for her. But if he said it, if he allowed himself to feel it, there was no going back. He would be committing to a real marriage. There would be no living separate lives and meeting once every Season in London. He would give himself to her wholly—she would accept nothing less—and that meant living every day with the fear she would be hit by a carriage or contract some horrible disease or die in childbirth.
“Colin! There you are. Colin!”
Colin snapped out of his thoughts and turned toward the sound of the voice. It was his father’s voice, he realized now. His father’s coach glided toward the side of the street, splashing through puddles Colin only now noticed. It must have rained while he’d been with Daphne.
“Sir,” he said, approaching his father’s lowered window. He peered inside and saw the viscount with Pugsly on his lap. “What are you doing out this late and alone?”
“The steward has called me back to the country. Agricultural crisis, you know.” His gaze traveled over Colin. “Are you well? You’re looking a bit ragged.”
Colin well knew it, but he hadn’t bothered with trying to button his waistcoat or tie a cravat. “Is there something I can do to help?”
The viscount waved his hand. “No, no. Tenant dispute. I can handle it. I went to your club, but the man at the door said you were not in. I was just on my way to your town house. John Coachman says he knows where it is, though I haven’t been invited yet.”
Colin refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d had more on his mind than entertaining. “What do you need from me, sir?”
“I need you to take Pugsly for a few days. You know he does not enjoy long carriage rides, and with all the children in the town house, he has not been himself. Louisa suggested your home might be more peaceful at the moment.”
Colin could hardly refuse. His father spoke the truth that the elderly dog did not like children or long carriage rides. More than once he’d been forced to replace boots after Pugsly had cast up his accounts on a trip to the country.
Colin held out his arms. “Of course, I will take him.”
The viscount handed the dog through the window to Colin. Pugsly licked his face.
“Shall we take his personal items to your town house?” the viscount asked. Colin remembered he had instructed the butler not to admit anyone.
“I’ll take them.” He held out his hand and the viscount gave him a box, which Colin tucked under his arm.
“Feed him twice a day and walk him three times, at least,” the viscount instructed.
“I know, sir. He’ll be in good hands. When do you leave for the country?”
“At first light tomorrow. I want to be there by dinner.”
“Safe travels, sir.”
“Yes, and when I return, I want to see your house and that lovely wife of yours. Remember what I told you about marriage and Lady Daphne?”
“I remember, sir.”
“Good.” He sat back and rapped on the roof of the coach. “Take good care of Pugsly.”
A few minutes later, Colin handed Pugsly and his box of personal effects to Porter as soon as the Master of the House opened the door to the Draven Club.
“Thank you, sir.” Porter looked at the dog squirming in his arms. “What shall I do with it?”
“It’s a him, and his name is Pugsly. Put him in the parlor with a fire. He’ll be content there for the present.” He started up the stairs. “Don’t let me forget him, Porter.”
“No, sir.”
Colin knew he wouldn’t find any of the married members of the Survivors at the Draven Club this late, but he hoped Duncan and Stratford had foregone the balls tonight, and he was fortunate enough to find them in the card room. They were not playing, but Stratford had built a tower out of cards and Duncan was giving him advice to keep it from falling.
Stratford glanced at Colin when he entered then stepped away from the card tower. “What happened to you? You look like you just came from bed.”
Colin took a seat next to Duncan. “More or less.”
“Lucky bastard,” Duncan muttered.
“Still no prospects for a wife?” Colin asked.
“Nae yet.”
“Rowden has a match tonight. You should come with us,” Stratford said, stepping close to the tower again and holding a card just above two cards, like a roof.
“Steady,” Duncan advised. “Take yer time now.”
Colin waited until the card had been placed before speaking again. “I’d rather not see my friend have his nose bloodied.”
“The odds are he’ll bloody the other man’s nose,” Duncan said.
“I have a more pressing problem.”
“What’s that?” Stratford asked, bending to study the card tower.
“The Earl of Battersea.” He went on to summarize the situation with Battersea and Daphne, pausing on occasion while Stratford carefully placed a card.
“The solution seems simple enough to me,” Stratford said after placing a card very high and watching as the entire tower teetered.
“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “Ye are the Pretender, are ye no?”
“Exactly,” Stratford said, tapping the card in his hand. “Why wait for a man to approach Battersea and ask him to find a woman? You do it.”
“In disguise, ken?” Duncan added.
“It’s really very simple.” Stratford, who was known for strategy then laid out a scheme that made Colin’s head spin. It was simple and would catch Battersea in the very act.
“That’s brilliant,” Colin said. “Are you certain it will work?”
“Not a doubt in my mind.” Stratford placed the last card on the tower and with a whoosh the entire tower toppled into a stack of cards. Colin hoped the fall wasn’t a bad omen.