Regency Vows. Kasey MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
Just then Captain Warre joined them. “A better way than what?”
William’s mouth clamped shut, and deep inside, something began to keen. “Anne and I will be traveling to Scotland shortly.” William was wrong. There was no better way.
“Hell of a thing, Croston,” Lord Deal said, shaking his head. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Indeed not.” Captain Warre lowered his voice. “I’ll call on you later today,” he said. “We’ll discuss what to do next.”
But she already knew what to do next, and it didn’t help matters to be standing here next to him, looking at him, yearning so deeply to reach for him, to touch him just one more time before—
God help her, she needed to get away from here. Longing for Captain Warre would only weigh her down. “We should travel as soon as possible,” she told Lord Deal. “I must go home at once and begin preparations. Please excuse me.”
“Katherine—”
She ignored Captain Warre calling after her as she hurried away. Whatever debt he thought he owed her, certainly now he realized he was free.
And it would be fine. She’d done this before—or near enough—and she could do it again. At least Lord Deal wasn’t a stranger, and he was kind. And, as Mr. Allen had so mercilessly implied, soon enough she would be free. May God forgive her.
She rushed into her waiting coach, chased by the reality that her association with Captain Warre was finally over, and that Papa’s best friend would shortly become her husband.
But she had barely settled against the seat before the door wrenched open again and Captain Warre lurched inside as the coach pulled away. Her heart thrilled at the sight of him for one beat, then two, before a cruel hand reached into her chest and squeezed hard.
“Suppose you tell me about this ‘offer’ William made to you, and about the ‘solution’ with Deal that makes it unnecessary.”
Heartache spread like fire. She couldn’t have smiled if she wanted to. “Instead, suppose you explain why you chose to waylay my coach instead of paying a call.”
“What solution?”
She couldn’t discuss this with him—not when she knew he looked with pity on her time with Mejdan. Not when she could barely stand the sinking feeling of leading herself into captivity even as everything inside her wanted something more.
“As you saw for yourself last night,” she said, deliberately addressing the first part of his question instead of the second, “William was drunk. And anyhow, not even the soberest offer of marriage from William could ever be serious. Surely you know him well enough to agree.”
“I would have thought so.”
“A ship can only have one captain, after all.” She reminded him of his own words. “And William is not anxious to place himself under a woman’s command.”
The corners of his eyes creased, but only just. “Understandably so. I had the impression this offer was serious, however, because he feared the alternative.”
“For no good reason. The committee only confirmed what I’ve suspected and what I imagine you’ve known—that marriage would put a quick end to all this. I can’t believe you have any objection, as news of my engagement will certainly release you from your debt to me.”
Something deadly flashed in his eyes, but he merely shrugged. “Interesting plan.”
It hurt too much to look at him, so she turned her face to the window. This was not the way to her house. “Where are we going?” she asked sharply.
“I’ve ordered your coachman to take a detour through the countryside.”
Her breath turned shallow. “And your own coach?”
“Sent it home.”
“I see.” Dangerous possibilities careened through her imagination. Dangerous yearnings. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone looking for a wife?” she said, because Captain Warre on the defensive was so much easier to deal with.
“Not anyone willing to face the blade of your cutlass every time he wishes to bed you.”
The look in his eyes said clearly that he would find her cutlass no obstacle. Heat flooded her most secret places. “But, Captain, what kind of wife would I be if I did not allow my husband to bed me whenever he wishes?” It was imperative to keep him at arm’s length, because every part of her wanted to be in his arms. The reaction in his eyes was exactly what she’d hoped for. “And I intend to be a most dutiful wife,” she added, just to goad him. “In fact, I doubt my cutlass will play much of a role in the marriage at all. I don’t plan to marry a man who requires such measures to form, shall we say, a meeting of the minds.”
“Only the feeblest man would fit that specification.” The moment the words were out, he narrowed his eyes. “Good God. That’s precisely what you’re thinking, isn’t it. This ‘solution’ William objects to—you’re planning to marry someone too old to care about your reputation or your fortune, who will soon leave you safely widowed. Good God.” He stared hard now. “You’re going to marry Deal.”
She hadn’t wanted him to find out until after she’d left for Scotland. “You make it sound so mercenary.”
“It’s nothing if not that. Bloody hell.” His eyes turned that familiar stormy green. “No wonder William renewed his offer. I would offer for you myself to keep you from such a disgusting plan.”
A horrible pain caught her in the chest even though his cruel words only confirmed what she already knew. “And I would refuse you as I refused him.” And wouldn’t he be relieved.
It was impossible to look at him without an assault of memories: his mouth on fire against hers, his hands burning her flesh, his words giving her strength when she’d had none. The keening inside her broke into a silent wail.
He leaned across the coach, his mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll not allow you to throw yourself like a bone to some old limpstaff who doesn’t deserve you.” A simmering fury in his eyes told her he was imagining Lord Deal in her marriage bed. His face was inches from hers, so close she could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes. So close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. She wanted to taste them, just one more time. Just once, she would have liked to give everything to a man she chose.
“If I intend to have a legitimate heir, I can’t afford to waste my time with a limpstaff,” she scoffed, goading him. “Rest assured I will make sure of Lord Deal’s virility before the marriage takes place.”
“Bloody hell.” It was the last thing he said before he pulled her to him and kissed her. His mouth was brutal, punishing, and the taste of him poured across her tongue like heaven. “Half of London lays awake at night thinking about how to get between your thighs,” he said against her lips. “I want to kill every last one of them.”
His possessiveness made her shudder. “There’s no need, Captain. None of them will succeed.”
* * *
THEY MIGHT NOT, but James would succeed, and he was through waiting.
He half stood and leaned across the coach, pulling her to him more forcefully than he meant to, crushing his mouth down on hers again to drink the heady taste of her. She responded instantly, and his body surged. Her lips were soft, and her tongue slid across his like velvet, stoking the fire inside him. A small voice whispered no, this wasn’t the place, but then her hands touched his face and the rush of blood in his veins silenced the warning.
He had the preservative in his pocket, and this torment would end here. Now.
The coach jolted and he fell back to his seat, taking her with him in a mass of skirts that drowned his legs. The cold sheath of the cutlass hidden inside all that fabric tapped his leg, but