Chapter Fourteen

Hugh pulled Ellie along just as she came to a sudden halt.

“You’re bleeding!” she cried out, her gaze focused on his shoulder.

Hugh had been more concerned for Ellie than the stinging in his shoulder. He parted the torn fabric to look at the wound. “It’s simply a flesh wound. The bullet grazed me. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more! You were shot.”

“It needs to be cleaned and bandaged. It’s not that painful. I’ve had worse in the boxing ring. Let’s see to you.”

Her face paled. “My injuries are of no matter. I must treat your wound.”

He gloried briefly from the concern etched on her features and in her voice. Did she truly care for him that much?

They made it through the park to the street at the opposite end. At last, the tall doors of the Raven Club came into view.

He held her back. “Not the front. You could be seen.”

He knew that she’d only ever entered through the back doors. Her carriage would drop her in the mews, and she’d wear a hooded cloak and enter through a well-guarded back entrance. She’d always been careful, and he wouldn’t jeopardize her reputation now.

She looked at him incredulously. “I hardly care about that now when you are bleeding through your clothes.”

Once again, a thrill raced through him for her worry. But he was insistent, and soon they were in the back of the club.

She knocked once, and a slot in the door opened to reveal one of the club’s servants. Recognizing her, he opened the door.

“My lady.”

They stepped inside. The servant’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.

Privacy above all else. Rules to live by at the club.

“Please tell Alice I require hot water, clean bandages, and a healing salve. We will be in the women’s gambling room,” Ellie instructed.

The woman nodded, then scurried off.

Soon they were at the hidden panel. She pressed the latch and ushered Hugh inside.

“Why here?” Hugh asked. Why would she prefer the women’s gambling room and not the boxing room or the office? He knew firsthand the boxing room had basic medical supplies such as bandages.

“There’s a bed, remember?”

“How could I forget? I thought you and Brooks were sharing more than a working relationship.” Just the thought of her with the guard caused an ache in his chest.

Her lips thinned. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She led him past the tables and opened the door into the small bedchamber. The four-poster bed had been made, and she pulled back a pale peach coverlet with roses to reveal white sheets. “Sit and let me see how badly you are injured.”

“It’s just—”

She raised a hand. “A flesh wound, I know. You’ve said as much, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine you myself.”

Hugh removed his greatcoat and waistcoat. Blood stained the shoulder of his shirt.

“Remove your shirt,” she said.

“I never dreamed you would order me to do so.”

“Do not flatter yourself. I need to see the wound so I can treat it.”

Without further argument, he pulled the shirt over his head. Thankfully, he was right. The bullet had only grazed his flesh, and the wound wasn’t deep. Nonetheless, it needed treatment and a salve. She leaned forward, and tendrils of red hair that had escaped from the knot at her nape brushed his arm. Need unfurled inside him—his whole being filled with a fiery longing.

“Those men could have killed you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

His fear for her resurfaced with a vengeance. If things had turned out differently beneath the bridge, if the blackguard had harmed one hair on her head, he would never have forgiven himself. Never would have survived the torment of the outcome.

He’d told her to run. As an officer, he was accustomed to having his orders followed, only she hadn’t listened, instead stubbornly remaining to help him fight.

“Ellie, will you ever do as you’re told?”

She raised her gaze from his shoulder to look at him, her eyes sparking with challenge. “I suppose it depends on who’s issuing the orders and whether I agree with them or not.”

It was an outrageous statement. He chuckled, but a painful pull of his shoulder cut his laugh short.

Her brow creased. “As far as I can tell, you were the unfortunate one in the incident.”

He nodded once, his thoughts returning to their embrace beneath the bridge before the criminals had ruined everything. He wondered what it would take to get her into his arms once again. “Then I leave myself to your care.”

…

Ellie tried not to think what could have happened if the bullet had struck inches to the right and had torn into his neck or chest. It could have been much, much worse. He could have died in her arms beneath the bridge. She thanked God for his life.

Ellie bit her lip as her gaze roamed over him. She’d seen him shirtless before, yet her eyes feasted on his flesh. On every hard angle and chiseled muscle. He appeared carved of marble. Her face must be flaming red. She tried to throttle the dizzying current through her and failed miserably. Her knees felt weak, and her pulse pounded an erratic rhythm. She wanted to be crushed against his chest. Wanted to feel more of what she’d felt beneath the bridge before they’d been accosted.

Hugh looked at her as if he had no idea of her illicit thoughts.

“See?” he said. “It is not so bad. A bandage and all will be well.”

All was well with him. Her own state was a different matter.

A slight knock on the door sounded, and Alice arrived with her supplies.

“I brought everything you’ve asked for, my lady,” Alice said. If she was surprised to find the Marquess of Deveril sitting shirtless on the bed and bleeding, she did not show it.

Ellie cleared her throat. “Thank you, Alice.” She returned her attention to Hugh. “We must first clean the wound.”

“What about your hands?” he asked.

“You first, then I’ll worry about a few scrapes.”

She dipped a cloth into the hot water and began cleaning the wound. Her emotions were a whirlwind. She’d disliked him for five long years, had thought nothing but the worst of him, then he’d returned into her life with the force of a summer storm.

He threatened all that she held dear. The Raven Club. Her work with the battered women.

But he’d helped her, too. He’d appeared just when she’d needed him to toss Baron Willoughby out the door on his arse. He’d fought off two vicious footpads, one armed, and had been shot himself rather than let anything untoward happen to her.

He’d protected her.

Twice.

She finished cleaning the wound. Alice handed her clean strips of cloth and the salve, and Ellie proceeded to apply the salve and wrap his shoulder.

“That will be all, Alice.”

Alice nodded, then took the bloody rags and left the room.

“You should lie down until we know it has stopped bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Your hands, remember?” He took the remaining clean cloths, dipped them in the water, and cleansed the scrapes on her hands.

She glanced at his hair. The chestnut brown was streaked with gold. She longed to run her fingers through the thick locks. Her memories of what had happened in the park before the criminals had come upon them were still vivid in her mind. He’d made her feel incredible. The rush of ecstasy was not something she could ever forget.

“You could have died,” he said, his voice suddenly gruff.

“So could you have,” she countered. The thought was like a punch to the gut, hard and unrelenting. He’d returned, and her life would never be the same. Just as the club would never be the same for her. He’d changed her, changed her beliefs and desires.

“You cannot compare. Every time I close my eyes, I picture those lecherous men looking at you. Nothing can happen to you.”

“It hasn’t.”

His expression changed, eased, and the teasing look was back. “We never finished what we started beneath the bridge.”

She held her breath. She knew what he meant. She couldn’t bring herself to admit she’d been thinking the same thing. “You’re injured.”

“Not enough to stop me from thinking of the way you unraveled in my hands. Your sweet gasps of pleasure. The silkiness of your skin. The wetness between your legs.”

Oh God. She shouldn’t allow him to speak that way to her. She was his competitor, a lady, the sister of an earl. Yet, his erotic talk only served to arouse her.

Was she a wanton?

Or was it just for him?

“We are in a private room with a bed,” he said.

Yes, they were. No one would intrude upon them here. No one but Alice and one of the club’s workers even knew they were here. He’d once accused her of seeking to make the club into a brothel for profit.

Perhaps he was right.

The room was perfect for an illicit liaison.

They could be together one time. Once.

No one would know.

No. This was madness.

Then why else had she brought him here? She could have treated him in the boxing salon.

“Sweet Ellie. I’ve wanted you for so long.” His voice was a murmur, filled with a need that matched her own.

“How long?”

He made a rough noise. “Since the day I first saw you.”

Her mind turned, recalling her debut. “When you asked me to dance at my coming out?”

“No. Before then.”

Before? She had no memory of meeting Hugh before her debut. “When?”

“At the bookstore. You had pulled a book off the shelf and soon became engrossed in reading it. Your younger sister, Olivia, was occupied speaking with the shopkeeper. I stood at the end of the row watching you. Sunlight glinted from a window above and shone on your red hair. I was mesmerized by the vibrant shade. Then I caught a glimpse of your lovely blue eyes and my breath hitched. I wanted to stride up and introduce myself, to meet you, but I lost my nerve. Then you departed with Olivia and I felt an uncomfortable emptiness. I knew I had to find you. I attended four balls, prowling the dance floors, until I saw you again.”

Ellie could not mask her surprise. She’d never imagined he’d seen her before that first night they’d danced. Never imagined he’d watched her in the bookshop. Had searched for her in ballrooms.

Violet Lasher was right. The heart was a tricky organ. Ellie’s squeezed in her chest. She feared it sliding down a slippery slope into peril. She was helpless to stop it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He pressed a forefinger to her lips. “Don’t say anything. It is of no consequence.”

No consequence? It mattered to her. Everything he’d said today mattered. She captured his wrist and kissed the finger he’d pressed against her lips.

His eyes glinted. He wanted her. It was clearly written in his green gaze, in the tense lines around his eyes. Slowly, she took his finger into her mouth and swirled the tip of her tongue around the tip.

His stare intensified with raw longing. “Ellie. You tread dangerously.”

“I suppose I do.”

She stood above him. He tugged her waist toward him and she stepped between his legs. He wrapped a hand around her nape and slowly drew her in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

She eagerly kissed him back. His kisses were everything she’d imagined as a girl and much more as a woman. Her palm came up to rest upon his chest. His skin was hot and smooth over hard planes. A sprinkling of hair teased her fingers and she kneaded the hard ridges, careful not to touch his wound.

His groan of raw need startled her. Her body responded with tension, excitement, and heaven help her, longing. Fire raged bright and hot as it had beneath the bridge. Her breasts brushed against his chest and her nipples hardened beneath her bodice. Her body craved his touch, hungry and desperate.

He stood and his hands lowered to her waist. His fingers worked the hooks on the back of her gown until the silk loosened and slipped off her shoulders to gather at her waist. He kissed her all the while, distracting her as she stood in her corset and shift. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs drawing lazy circles around her throbbing nipples through the fabric.

Fire coursed through her veins. More. She wanted more.

She wanted to feel his hands on her naked breasts, her stomach, her thighs…and in between them where she craved his touch the most. She was twenty-three years old and had never experienced a man. No one had made her pulse pound, her fantasies run wild like Hugh. She instinctively knew no one else would come close. Here was her chance to finally experience him.

Could she share passion with Hugh and walk away? Finally be with him and not linger over the past, but move on? Men did it all the time. Why did she have to be any different? She had no desire to marry, to lose her identity to a husband’s whims. As long as there was no risk of pregnancy, why couldn’t she?

She clutched his shoulders, a mewling sound escaping her lips.

He stiffened and lifted his head to look in her eyes. “If we do not stop, then it will become difficult for me to do so.”

She stared back, getting lost in his dark green irises. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am, except I fear the risk of pregnancy.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “There is always a risk, but there are ways.”

She nodded. “Then I want this.” I desperately want this.

Still he waited. “You experienced a shock this afternoon. I don’t want to take advantage.”

“You do not take advantage. Cease talking.”

She’d learned from experience that life was fragile and could be taken on a whim. A single shot from a criminal could have torn through Hugh’s heart rather than his shoulder. She shivered at the thought.

Did she want to spend the rest of her life wondering what if? Her virginity was the only thing she possessed that she could gift as she wished. And she wanted to experience Hugh.

Turning her around, he made quick work of her stays and shift until she stood naked before him. His intense gaze traveled her from head to toe.

“Loosen your hair.” His voice was gruff, commanding.

Like a siren, she pulled the pins out of her hair, and the red locks fell about her shoulders. She was aware of where her hair brushed her shoulders then her back. Hugh’s gaze watched her, his nostrils flaring.

“God, you’ve lovely. Like a fiery Venus.”

He kissed her again, then gently pinched and rolled her nipples.

She was right about wanting the barrier of clothing gone. Pleasure radiated from her breasts to deep between her legs. She panted and grew wetter.

Her hand traveled down his chest to graze his hardness through his trousers. He hissed in a breath. She attempted to pull back, but he captured her hand and pressed her palm against him. Fascinated, her fingers traced the outline. He was large and rigid.

She worked the buttons of his placket and slipped her fingers inside.

Oh my.

He was like steel encased in velvet. Fascinated, she ran her forefinger up and down the length, then grasped the base. His harsh breath mingled with hers. She touched the tip to find a pearl of moisture there. She swirled it with her forefinger, and his groan vibrated through her.

He tossed her onto the bed. She rose on elbows, her loose hair cascading down her back. Hugh towered above her, like a conquering warrior. She became achingly aware that she was fully naked and he still wore his trousers and boots.

A different doubt crept into her head. Hugh was experienced. Actresses. Widows. How could she compare?

“I’ve never done this before. I may not please you.”

His look was utterly male and fiercely possessive. “I have no doubt that you will please me. I only hope to please you.”

Her heart slipped another notch.

With efficiency, he took off his boots and trousers. Her gaze lowered and widened. He was even larger without clothing. His erection stood bold and proud. She stared, eyes wide.

Will that even fit?

“Trust me. It’ll fit.”

Her eyes flew to his. Had she spoken out loud?

He’d asked her to trust him. She’d trusted him once with dire consequences, but this was different, this was on her terms. She wanted this, wanted him.

The mattress dipped as he placed a knee upon it, then he hovered above her, his expression wolf-like.

She should feel fear, but she felt an intense satisfaction that she could make such a masculine man look that way. For her.

He kissed her breasts until she squirmed beneath him. All the while his hands lowered down her stomach to the hidden place that ached for his skillful touch. His fingers found her most intimate spot, then caressed the aching bud. Her head fell back against the pillows.

“I was right. You do have freckles on your lovely breasts.”

“Freckles are not lovely.”

“They are to me.” He lowered his head and licked one. Then another. He kept going, spending time on each one. Her core tightened even more, and she shivered.

“See? Beautiful.”

He made her feel beautiful. Everywhere. Suddenly, she was grateful for the freckles.

Only when she was quivering with desire did he cover her body with his. She felt his hardness between her legs. She parted her thighs for him, and he settled between them.

She felt a steady pressure, then a stab of pain took her unawares. She knew there would be discomfort her first time, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this pain. Her gaze flew to him.

Hugh’s breath was ragged and his eyes were closed. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this part, either.

She tried to squirm.

His hands clamped on her hips to hold her still. “Don’t.”

“I have to move.”

“Not yet.”

He pressed forward another inch. How was she not to move?

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her lips, all the while whispering words of praise. Her muscles eased a bit.

Then he thrust his hips until he was fully embedded inside her.

He captured her gasp with his lips. “Easy, love.”

His biceps bunched and the muscles of his neck strained. She felt him shudder. Was he in as much discomfort?

Then he kissed her again and his chest brushed against her breasts. He moved his hips. The pain faded, and just as surprisingly, the pleasure returned. With each small thrust of his hips, her need sparked and grew until she was matching his movements. He increased his tempo, thrusting deeper each time. She soon grew desperate and dug her nails into his back.

She felt it now. The growing need in her body that only Hugh could ease. Her eyes met his, and the fierce desire combined with the possessive longing in his gaze made her heart nearly burst. This was what true intimacy felt like, not just a physical craving, but an emotional one that tugged at her soul. Helpless to separate the two needs, she embraced the connection. They rode the wave as pleasure built deep inside her. Each thrust brought her closer and closer until she unraveled in his arms and mewled her pleasure. With two more thrusts, Hugh followed, and she felt the spurt of hot liquid across her belly.

He held her close. She rested her head on his chest and could feel the strong beat of his heart as she caught her own breath. Then he rose and returned with a cloth to cleanse her of the evidence of their lovemaking. She sat up when he was finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He joined her on the bed and gathered her in his arms.

She’d thought she could exorcise Hugh from her mind and body. She realized her mistake.

Could she risk her heart and hope for more?