No child here, p.23
No Child Here, page 23
“My favorite color.”
She spun, hand to her throat. “You startled me.”
“I can see that.” He nodded toward the hall. “My mother just arrived. She awaits us downstairs.”
“Please give her my sincerest apologies, but we will not be receiving callers this day.”
Logan quirked his brows. “Hannah, are you well?” He stepped inside, closing the door. “You’re pale. Do you need the chamber pot?”
“No.” Her gaze snagged on a curious sight, and she crossed the room, taking the white, powered wig from his nightstand. “A wig?”
Color drained from his complexion. “The one I wore as a soldier in America.”
“I see. Why keep it by your bed if it causes you distress?”
Logan cleared his throat, hands going behind his back. “It serves me now as a reminder of choices made.”
“Of debts incurred.” She approached him, an outrageous idea circling her mind. “I would have you wear this.”
He took the wig and tossed it on the bed. “What is all this about? We haven’t time for idle chitchat.”
“You believe my father will find us here?”
“Eventually, yes, but I did not have plans to linger. My mother has been waiting a long time to greet you and our time here is of short offering. It would be rude of us not to receive her when she awaits just below stairs.”
“I realize my request puts us in violation of good manners, yet it cannot wait beyond the hour.”
“Why?” He brushed knuckles in tender sweeps over her cheek. “What is so important?”
Her knees wobbled, but her gaze did not falter. “Our future. And if you cannot help me surpass this last obstacle, I fear our journey together will be at an end. Will you help me?”
Chapter Forty
Logan reentered his room, his stomach in knots, the uncertainty of his future with Hannah hanging over his head as a thundercloud. “She is gone. What is this about?”
Hannah withdrew a red coat from his wardrobe, holding it up.
His heart thudded to a halt. “What are you doing with that? Put it back.” Why was the woman dangling his uniform in front of him as if it were some prize he should be proud of? It disgusted him.
She hugged his nightmare to her chest. “Do you know, when we were… together, I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw the stars. And when I opened them, the world was discolored.” Her voice dropped. “Your visage was draped in red. As this coat.” She traveled to the bed and sat.
Logan stood rooted to the spot, something akin to horror leaking from his heart.
“Pinned and helpless. Burning pain between my legs as if I’d been sliced in two. I couldn’t see your face. Just your chest as you moved above me. It could have been a stranger. You were a stranger.”
Her fists bunched up the fine material of his officer’s uniform. “But you’re the man every young woman wanted. The living embodiment of chivalry and decency. So many owed you their lives for their improved lot in life. Even Abby seemed to hold you in high esteem.”
Logan’s world crumbled. What had he done?
“So, you see, I was desperate to keep you. Desperate to be the woman closest to you. Determined the whole of England should know you belonged to me and I to you.”
The first tear slipped free, and Logan felt its reflection run the same course down his cheek.
“I wanted Abby watching our intimacy. Was glad she was there to bear witness to our vows. But I wasn’t ready. I lied to you. I made a story and I thrust myself into the pages for fear if I did not some other heroine would take my place and I would be forgotten.” She chuckled, wiping her cheeks. “A memory no one wanted. A child to be dropped from a tree because her life was worth less than another’s.”
“Hannah.” He closed his eyes, unable to bear a word more of this confession. Who dropped her from a tree?
She stood, clutching his jacket, slowly walking his way. “My childhood taught me the ground is where you abandon things you don’t want, and when you left me laying in the grass, the sun blocking the features of your face, I felt as I did then—worthless. Suddenly you became a stranger, a man draped in red who hurt me then left me alone. For a whole month. Where were you?”
The question was as sharp as a slap in the face.
“London.”
“Why?”
His throat convulsed. “Securing passage for Abby and Nathan to leave England.”
The knuckles braced against his coat turned white. “Were you going with them?”
The ball of agony wedged between vocal cords slashed his voice to ribbons. “Yes.”
“Yet you came back.” Her eyes glistened with more tears, but she held a firm gaze, challenging him. “Why did you come back?”
“For you.” It was the simplest answer. He did not want to let go. Could not bring himself to leave England for another’s purpose. He had given up Rose to stay shackled to a debt. Hannah was a forfeit he could ill afford. He knew she was the woman for him as soon as she burst through Dorchester’s study doors to come charging to his rescue. “I love you, Hannah.”
“More than a debt?” She caressed the jacket.
Logan tore the garment from her grasp. “More than my fear of not doing enough to make up for past transgressions.”
“It is unbearable to live a life shackled to terror. Or loneliness.”
“I cannot erase my past.”
“Nor can I hide from mine.” She glided to the nightstand, slipping pins from her coiffure, letting the mass tumble free. She glanced over her shoulder. “Put the uniform on, Logan.”
~ * ~
Logan was a sight in the throes of apoplexy. Sputtering and choking consumed his throat, gagging a parcel of words she likely didn’t want to hear. “Sodding hell. No.”
“This too.” She picked up the wig and held it out. “I would see you dress in your best for this occasion.”
“You wish me to make love to you wearing this atrocity?” He ignored her outstretched arm and moved to a tall window, the coat still clutched in a trembling hand. “This thing is stitched together by too many atrocious memories. It would be impossible for me to wear this and take you.”
“You mistake me, Logan.” She addressed twin shoulders. “It is I who wishes to ravish you. This is a formal request for your surrender, my lord. To me. Our child. Our life together as man and wife.”
“Hannah.” His voice wobbled, the strength fleeing from his indignation.
“I want you to adorn yourself in a nightmare, Logan, so I can rescue you from it.” She dared to press her bosom to his back, wrapping arms around a lean waist. “And in the act, reclaim what I gave away to a stranger draped in red.”
“You’re mad.”
“I should think stubborn might be a better word.”
“There are no words to describe this demented request of yours.” He turned within her arms. “Give me that bloody wig.”
Minutes later, an officer of His Majesty’s army stood in full dress uniform. The wig suited the square cut of his jaw, brought out the amber ring of color surrounding both pupils. She could imagine him mounted on a tall stallion, in the throes of a savage battle issuing commands.
His stance offered no weeping shoulder to cry on, no quarter given for a traitorous Yankee. Had she not known the man beneath the cloth, she might have feared the full weight of his stare on her.
But she did know him. The viscount who lived without servants. Taught her to make pancakes. Played on the floor with her kitten. Showed her compassion and empathy when competition for her heart reared its head in the form of Lord Pembroke and Mr. Witherby.
This man standing before her wasn’t a stranger she feared, but one she loved. Beyond all others. Even Thomas, whose friendship she would always treasure. He gave her the means to accept her fears and face them.
She would do the same for Logan.
The smart clack of Hessians rained down as thunder, halting before her. Clipped and stern, his voice rang out. “Captain Logan Sandhurst, reporting for duty as commanded, Lady Hannah.” A flare of violence in brittle flakes of brown, then a mockery of a bow followed. “What are my orders?”
It was difficult to remind herself that this was a man who loved her when he stood poised to throttle her neck. Yet this was necessary for both their futures. “On the bed, Captain.”
He clocked his heels together, saluting. “As my lady demands.” Boots, saber, and man tumbled into bed, aligning themselves as commanded. Stiff as a board, arms to his side, Logan stared at her in stony silence.
How wicked can you be, Lady Hannah?
She unlatched the hooks that held her bodice together. The heavy brocade cleaved in two, exposing the tops of her breasts shielded by a thin chemise and corset.
Logan glanced at the sight then directed his attention elsewhere. “What are you doing?”
“I wished to be kissed.”
“Then lean forward and kiss me.”
She began shoving the material of her dress down, over her strays. “I do not believe it works that way, Captain.” Wicked, Hannah. Be daring. Keep going. With a soft inhale she bent forward, her breasts nearly spilling from the corset as she balanced one leg then the other, stepping out of her clothes.
Logan cleared his throat. “We’ve kissed before. You know how it works.”
“Use your imagination, my captain.”
A growl stroked the air between them. “Have you been talking with Dorchester?”
“I do not know what you mean.” She untied the string holding her stays in place around her waist, letting them drop to the floor in a whoosh.
Logan’s boots tapped together. “Hannah.”
“It’s Lady Hannah, Captain. I’ve not given you permission to speak my Christian name.” She stood before him garbed in a linen white chemise, gossamer hose, and garters. “Now kiss me.”
The stone soldier on the bed was cracking piece by piece. He yanked on his neckcloth. “Where?”
“Think, Captain.”
He splayed his legs open. “Where, Lady Hannah?” A croak fractured a deep baritone voice.
She shimmied between his open legs, careful not to touch him. “Guess.”
Nostrils flared. A foreboding gaze sized up her person with quick efficiency. “Come closer.” He scooted to the edge of the bedding; his eyes fixed on her breasts.
She obliged the sharp command, nails digging into palms as his lips skimmed her cleavage. “Kiss me, Logan.”
His tongue dipped into the valley contained by her corset.
She shivered, stealing herself for euphoria. “That isn’t where I wish your kiss.”
The wet warmth of his mouth disappeared. Sitting back, his brows came together as the wheels in his head began spinning in circles.
It was tempting to giggle. Rose had been correct. Logan needed a primer on lovemaking. An education Hannah was going to provide thanks to Rose’s sage advice.
She skimmed a hand down her stomach. Logan’s gaze following the movement to her thigh’s juncture. “Here.”
His lips twitched. “As you wish, my lady. Lift your skirts.”
“On your knees.” Her chin jutted out. “I give the commands in this house, Captain.”
Logan slipped from the bed, the saber at his waist hitting the planks with a metallic clank. A pair of dull thuds pounded the wood floor next. Logan’s head was level with her navel. He placed a chaste kiss over the fine material of her chemise, briefly making eye contact. “May I?”
“You may.”
Fingers glided up her silk stockings, as light as gossamer webs. A delicate sensation over the bare skin of her thighs. He dragged cloth upwards in his climb until it bunched around her waist in large handfuls.
Trepidation left her frozen in place, unable to breath. Exposed and displayed in a manner she’d never imagined.
“Your flesh quivers in my grasp.”
“Anticipation, Captain.”
“Or nerves.” His gaze was a steady anchor as he moved closer to the thatch of curls in front of his face. “Breathe, Hannah.”
“Lady Hannah. And I am.”
“Are you?” He delved deep and sliced between her swollen folds with one long wet glide.
Strength fled from locked joints on a wave of pleasure so sharp she cried out.
His voice hummed against her core, a symphony of muffled groans as he readjusted his hold, applying pressure until her legs spread further apart so he could sink between them.
Lavish flicks and decadent sweeps explored her in a kiss so shockingly carnal she struggled to understand the turbulent mass of emotions ripping her body apart. It was equal parts torture and bliss. A strange sort of pain. One that ached and begged for appeasement.
A wet caress lapped over a tight bundle of nerves and Hannah’s entire body convulsed.
Logan paused long enough to catch her gaze, then without a word, he tightened his grip around each thigh and dove back in, attacking the same knot with gentle violence.
“Logan!” Her belly flipped as though she rode the wind, out of control and directionless. Afraid of her plummet to the ground.
Like the swing.
Logan shifted position, circling her waist with both arms. He wasn’t letting go. Where she went so, too, did he, and the journey continued upwards, locked together in this intimate embrace.
Pressure was applied with sudden vigor, and Hannah lost all reason, succumbing at the summit of heaven.
“Aargh!” She was in free fall, whirling as a feather caught in a breeze, coming to rest on a pair of sturdy shoulders. Bathed in red.
“Easy now. I’ve got you.” Logan soothed her with wordless murmurs and tender kisses. He found his feet when the last remnants of moisture had been cleansed from her thighs. “That was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” He cupped her cheeks. “I did not know a woman could fall apart in such a manner. Or that I could be capable of the unraveling of your passions. I believed it beyond my ability.”
“No, you believed yourself a monster. Capable of bestowing pain and nothing more. And it isn’t so, Logan. You made mistakes and revealed yourself to be human.”
“But you fear this human.”
“Do I appear frightened to you? I pieced myself together after my father’s betrayal and yours. Loving you will not shatter me. Nor will it break your daughter.” She tugged on his neckcloth. “I am certain she will see only a loving father. Her mighty protector. Slayer of nightmares. Believer of dreams.” She braced hands on sleeves covered in crimson. “Now rid yourself of the garment, Logan Sandhurst, and wallow no more in your past. You won’t find your family there waiting for you.” She gripped his hand and placed the rough palm over her belly. “We exist only in your present, and your future should you find want of us.”
Tendons pulsed in Logan’s neck, his Adam’s Apple moving the full length of his throat in a series of pitches and falls, before his lips came crashing on hers in a fiery kiss, scorching the air between them.
The uniform was a forgotten barrier as they merged into a mass of twining arms and grasping hands. Logan pulled away, falling to his knees. As a tamed lion, he nuzzled the soft contours of her abdomen.
“I haven’t the faintest clue what I would do without you. I love you so much.” He pulled her to the floor astride his lap. His face was a mask of adoration, a radiant picture of happiness. “Take me.”
Joy bubbled and bathed her blood in a powerful elixir. “I do not know how.”
A tender kiss found her lips. “Then we’ll make the discovery together.”
Clothes disappeared in a series of rough jerks and torn fabric. Silken skin met questing hands in a perilous exploration of sweet savagery. Logan would allow no retreat or hesitation, caressing her with delicate sweeps of lips. “Touch me, Hannah. I ache for you.”
“As I for you.” She brought both his hands to her naked breasts, ensuring his attention riveted, while she cast her head back, reaching for the length of iron flesh between her thighs.
Her first tentative brush sent Logan into a rigid stance, his body growing taut as a bow string. Her nipple slipped from his mouth on a groan.
“Does this cause pain?” she asked, making pendulum sweeps of fingertips over a bulbous head.
“The most exquisite I have ever known.” He lay prone on the wood plank floor. “Please, love. Now.”
It was both a plea and an order.
One he was giving her the power to fulfil or deny. He was submitting to her ministrations, allowing her any privilege with his body she wished.
But did she understand how to accept such an honor?
Remember Rose’s words. Remember…
The detailed description of the act of love and its many varied forms was a memory Hannah would never forget. Yet implementing them was a complication.
The staff she was told to mount was reaching for her center in an imposing tower of ruddy flesh, ready to split her asunder once more.
I am brave. I can do this. I am not afraid.
Her former mantra rising from her depths, urging her once more to seek what she feared most.
Yet she was not alone in facing her demons.
A large palm found her smaller one, guiding it forward to grasp with strength around the straining member.
They both jumped on contact.
“You see?” Logan gasped, showing her how to stroke him. “I am just as sensitive as you. As easily wounded. Do not fear me, Hannah. You hold power, too.”
A surge of pride boosted Hannah as she absorbed Logan’s every groan and growl of need. The sound struck flint between her thighs, igniting a familiar burn she could not quell.
She mounted, easing herself down on the pulsing column within her grasp. The breach sparked a shallow fire, chasing heat in all directions. She pushed and stretched her core, arching her back at the delicious friction.
Logan’s hands fell to her hips as a guide as she found her way to his hilt all under her own power.
But once there she hesitated, unsure of what to do next.
“Work with me, love.” He rolled his hips beneath her in a subtle swell, his manhood scraping her flesh in slow, exaggerated drags and pulls.
