Daring declarations, p.9
Daring Declarations, page 9
“God, Thea!” burst from him as his loins started shaking and one of his blunt nails pierced right through his bed sheets.
After a silent but fierce pull that curled his toes, she eased back. Running her thumb over the purpling head, she shot him a mischievous glance. “Appears I can assume you find that rather to your liking.” Her fingers tightened around his shaft. “Then aren’t you the fortunate one? For I’ve been practicing.”
Practicing?
With a gleeful laugh, she took the crown back inside her mouth. Lips closed firmly around the corona, fingers snug on his staff, Thea answered his unspoken question in the most spectacular way.
“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”
And Daniel died and went to heaven.
He woke early the next morning, long before the light of dawn met the day, his body sated and heavy, his mind a jumble of so many erotic images it was hard to settle on just one.
Thea loving him with her mouth.
Thea stopping just when he moaned, a ragged sound that told her the end was near.
Thea gliding over him until she kissed his lips, slanting her body until her feminine depths were within reach.
Thea, her hot and moist center enticing him inside, sliding so snugly around him that he’d never felt more at home.
Thea, whispering to him later as she rode above him and his hands tightened on the cheeks of her arse, dipping between a time or two, “We can do it there. If it would please you,” and while his cock rejoiced and his heart cracked, she brought her chest to his, kissed beneath his ear and added, “Sometime soon, I’m thinking, but just not tonight.”
Thea, the woman whose warm flesh hugged him skin to skin, no barriers—no preventative nor lies—in the way. It felt so natural, so right, being intimate with her without anything between them that Daniel never thought to question the lack. That told him something right there.
Told him he was bewitched. And not by one of Ellie’s little spells, but by the sweet siren who uttered his name in a soft, silken voice. “Tonight, strong Daniel, I want to revel in loving you without any cumbersome uncertainties or self-doubts weighing me down. Time enough for another new amorous adventure in the future, hmm?”
Dazed, he nodded. Anything she wanted, anything. He wanted to be the one to provide it. Any—
“But I would like for you to touch me there, deeper. As you did at the opera. Ah…mmm.” When his finger greeted her anus, she gave a little cry and her loins surged against his just before the hot wash of her release bathed his shaft in wonder.
A huge, replete sigh heaved from him.
Never mind that the orgasm he recalled occurred hours ago, he still felt it in every pore of his being.
Thea, who’d made his dreams—ones he hadn’t even been aware of—possible. Fact.
Thea, whom he loved and wanted for his own. It was time to tell her. Out loud.
Shaking off the drugging vestiges of sleep, Daniel blinked and rolled toward her: Thea, his love.
Thea. Who was gone.
5
A Fan – or Two – Whips up a Flurry
A short while earlier…
It was still night when she woke. Dark beyond the edges of the curtains in Lord Tremayne’s bedchamber.
Apprehension marked this particular occasion—because unlike the previous times she’d dozed and awoke, this time morning approached. She felt it with a foreboding in her bones.
Morning, which brought harsh, unavoidable realities with it.
Morning. Bah.
She’d growl if she could, for once it arrived, ’twould not do for her to be found in the master’s bed. Nay, not when she was his mistress, a female relegated to a small and precise role in his life. One who had no right to be here.
Oh, but Daniel’s breathing was steady, his warmth stretched out alongside hers divine, and Thea wanted nothing more than to linger.
A serene smile curved her lips. At least she’d finally spent the night in his arms. Only she’d never imagined it would be in his bed!
A sigh huffed gently from his lips, his breath brushing the top of her head and Thea’s smile grew. In the next moment, his sleep-husked, nonsensical murmur met her ears as his arms tightened around her—almost as though, even in sleep, he sensed her intention to depart.
She willed her muscles to unclench, to sink deeper into his embrace and savor every second.
She’d slept in the same bed with Mr. Hurwell over two thousand two hundred nights—she’d calculated the depressing number at some point during the sixth year of their marriage. Yet after little more than a single full night, little less than a week total, she knew more genuine caring from the slumbering man holding her now than she ever had from her spouse.
But she had no time to wonder what dreams might be wandering through his mind, what recollections or regrets from the night. No time to ponder the number of minutes until daybreak. Nay, for before the household brimmed with activity, she intended to be back where she belonged.
* * *
The stunning ruby tucked beneath her bodice, stays laced as best she could manage in near silence—and by herself—Thea slipped out Lord Tremayne’s bedroom door. Best she began thinking of him as she ought, save “Daniel” for the bedchamber. “Lord Tremayne”, she reminded herself, was her protector—a man who paid for the privilege of using her body.
Paid generously and isn’t the privilege all yours? some inner imp taunted.
Wall sconces lit the corridor and guided her toward the stairs. Fresh beeswax candles. What a luxury and how quickly she’d grown used to them herself. Such a departure from the candleless black nights she’d endured in recent months.
Tiptoeing down the massive staircase, she was battling guilt over the thought of rousing Buttons to take her home—she’d learned her lesson about roaming London alone—when the servant emerged from the shadows to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.
“He’ll not like you sneaking off,” Buttons told her with a frown.
“Sneaking!” she whispered back, ignoring the prickle of her conscience. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’m returning to my townhouse—where I belong.”
Buttons crossed his arms over his chest, looking remarkably intimidating for all his youth. “He’d want you to stay.”
“But it’s nearly morning.”
“Makes no matter.”
Irritable because Buttons was only enticing her toward what she already wanted—and knew she shouldn’t—Thea walked around him.
“Have it your way, Miss Thea.” He sounded aggrieved but turned to follow.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she grumped at him, ashamed of herself when she heard the complaint emerge. “And where’s my pelisse, do you know?”
“John will get it from Petie and bring it over later.”
That stalled her determined exodus. “Who?”
“Mrs. Peterson, the housekeeper,” he explained. “She hemmed the sleeves last night and I don’t dare barge in asking for it at this hour.”
Hemmed the sleeves? That marvelous man!
They were at the door. Buttons was big enough he could stop her if he chose.
“Please?” Thea said starkly, her gaze unwillingly drawn overhead to the ornate chandelier that graced the ceiling.
That fancy, expensive alliance of metal and glass only illustrated the difference in their stations. Her former ceiling, and the room she’d rented for months, had been water stained, smoke stained, and stained with the taint of the wretched hopelessness that had surrounded her on a daily basis.
She looked back at Buttons. “It’s not my place to be here when the household arises. Take me home before everyone in Lord Tremayne’s employ knows what I’ve done. Please?”
After a moment’s consideration, he nodded once. “Before we go, I need to tell John that we’re off. He had the first watch—that’s when I slept. I spelled him a while ago, figurin’ you’d try to sneak—er, leave early this morning.”
He turned to go but immediately swung back. “And you’re wrong, if I can say so without gettin’ my lugs boxed. Ever’one here likes you jus’ fine. Better than fine, I be thinkin’—because his lordship really likes you.
“There’s fewer servants here than what you’d figure for a house this size, but we’ve been with him for years, those of us there are. Long before he got the title. An’ we’re all fiercely loyal to him. Not jus’ because he pays us but because we choose to be. We care ’bout him.”
At this point during his startling and informative revelation, Buttons gave a light shrug. “He cared about most of us first. Petie? She worked the tavern near the Tremayne Estate, serving and cleaning and motherin’ all the local lads in Aylsham. Got turned out when she couldn’t hear no more, an’ after decades of hard work. When his lordship found out, he rode up to Norfolk and brought her here. I speak for ever’one when I say that you haven’t got any censure to fear, not from us.”
“No censure to fear…” Thea numbly repeated. It was easier to latch on to that particular phrase than the entire sentiment so eloquently and earnestly just expressed.
“Been workin’ on elongating an’ expanding my vocabulary,” Buttons said with a wink. “It impresses Sally Ann.”
During the wee hours of the night, the quiet, still times between energetic lovings when Thea had slept cradled in his arms, Daniel had remained awake, thoughts brimming, plans forming, words being chosen. Decisions made.
He’d lived for years with his father’s harsh disapproval. Some of his choices had been made to flaunt his defiance of the man’s authority; more had been made to hide his difficulty.
Well, no longer. He was a man in love with his mistress, and he was man enough to do something about it. But before he tracked down his missing woman, and gave her a lecture on absconding with nary a word—with her person and his heart—he had first a relative and then a shopkeeper to see.
Dawn found him approaching Ellie and Wylde’s townhouse from the mews, carefully picking his way through the rain-dampened ground. And not disappointed.
“Good,” he greeted his sister who was hunkered down in the garden picking through a patch of something. “You’re up.”
Elizabeth flew to her feet with a startled cry, hand going to her neck. “Daniel! Since when do you rise with the chickens?”
Since he awoke without Thea.
He felt his lips curve at the picture his sister made, wearing old, mud-smeared clothes, intent on bringing life up from the cold and dormant soil. “Always reminds me of Mama, seeing you thus.”
The fright left her gaze to be replaced with a flattered flush. “I love hearing you say so. I wish I could remember her.”
Laden with her gardening tools, Ellie took a slow step forward and blinked at him in the gloom. “I cannot fathom what brought you here—and so early!”
“Can we t-talk?”
His odd request had her stripping off gloves and setting down the trowel. “Certainly. Come in. I doubt breakfast is ready but I’ll have some tea brought— No? Why are you shaking your head?”
“I’ve ad-di-ditional errands,” he told her, taking her arm to steer them toward a bench he’d noticed beneath a leafy tree. “D-don’t want to run into Wylde. Just you this morning.”
“You’re here to take me to task for the opera, aren’t you?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Daniel had the sense they were being watched and craned his neck around.
“Trust me. He’s never up at this hour. I didn’t think you ever were either. Come, tell me what brings you here.”
They settled on the stone bench, Daniel’s gaze going to where he’d originally spotted his sister.
The smell of damp earth was strong. The growing cacophony of chirpy, whistling birds uplifting. As though they too wanted to sing in celebration of what he’d decided. Either that or they celebrated the cessation of rain.
“Daniel.” Chastisement was in her tone. “That’s the second time you’ve consulted your timepiece, and yet you’ve been here less than three minutes. I hardly ever see you do so. What has you acting so strangely?”
“I sent John round to Morrison’s…” He mentioned the emporium he tended to frequent whenever needing to purchase a gift; a gift he typically let the proprietor choose and send with his name. But not this time. “To inquire whether he’d let me in early. I want to buy a fan for Thea. I noticed she d-didn’t have one at the opera.”
“A parting gift?” Elizabeth sounded aghast. Her fisted hands rose—as though she wanted to smack him!—before she brought them, shaking, back to her lap. “You should be ashamed! A fan—”
Daniel halted the tirade, placing his large gloved hand over both of hers. “Nn-nay. It rankles you should think me so cheap. A fan? As a congé? Pah. You’re completely off the mark. I want her t-to have one I p-pick out, ’tis all.”
“But a fan!” Her irritation over his choice of gift seemed completely over-the-top. Daniel let it slide when she changed the subject with, “You’re unusually verbose today. Perhaps I should always schedule my visits at five minutes after sunrise?”
“When I’m usually snoring,” he snorted on a smile. He squeezed her bare fingers. “Ellie. I would never d-do anything to harm you. But I find I must. You are my one regret in this, how you will p-p-pay for my—”
She snatched her hand free and turned fully toward him. “You’re frightening me. You aren’t leaving England, are you? Are you sick? Injured? Where? What—”
Touched by her concern, he put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Nn-nay. Nothing of the sort. But I am hoping to be married—”
“Married!” Alarm made her pull back. Her eyes narrowed at him, steely glints in the slowly increasing light. “Now? But what about Thea? I mean Mrs. Hurwell?”
Not the reaction he’d expected. “What about her?”
“Ah…um. I have a confession to make—about your mistress. About Thea.”
Why did Ellie look guilty?
“I went to see her yesterday and—”
“You…” He hadn’t expected that. “What about?”
“My difficulties with Wylde, if you must know. I needed the advice of someone with more experience. Ah, in the bedroom.”
She’d gone to Thea for sexual advice? Daniel was hard-pressed not to laugh.
For his unsuccessful attempt, he got summarily elbowed in the ribs. “Ow! Ellie. They’re still sore.”
“And I still owe you a jar of cream. But she was wonderfully helpful and, oh, Daniel, I like her very much. And now you’re going to get married?” She sounded distraught. “End things with Thea?”
Never would he have expected such disapproval from this quarter. It hadn’t escaped him either that Ellie expressed zero interest in his potential future wife; nay, all her concern was for his mistress.
Women!
Ellie sighed. “Thea’s not at all what I thought a mistress would be.”
Nay, she wasn’t. “More like a wife.”
“What? A wife!” He’d reduced his composed sister to shrieks.
At least they weren’t critical shrieks. Nay, given her smile and the clapping and the jumping up and down, given the strangling hug she suffocated him with and the shout in his ear, he’d have to say they were shrieks of approval.
“Here?” Buttons exclaimed after the carriage ride “home” took them across London instead. “This is where I’m to let you ‘run a quick errand’? His lordship’ll flay me alive!”
In the act of getting down, Thea paused. She flashed a falsely confident smile. “He need never know. I only need one thing from my room—”
Buttons had already jumped to the ground and circled the carriage, as though to bar her from proceeding. At her explanation, he winced. “Your room, Miss Thea?”
She saw him look again, more warily this time, at their surroundings. The curve of the sun had just crested the horizon, giving him sufficient light to see the ugly street and uglier building she’d directed them to. Using Hatchards as a starting point, which she’d thought a stroke of brilliance, Thea had given her coachman Jem instructions.
“Aye. Until last week, this is where I lived.” The confession was made without inflection.
People were beginning to stir, shutters banging open and the contents of slop jars and chamber pots being tossed into the streets.
Needing to get the distasteful task over with, she stood.
With a shudder, Buttons offered his arm to assist her down. “His lordship will have my head, but I can see sure-like you’ll come back on your own later if I order us turned around now.” After a severe frown at her, he glanced at the driver. “You see them two men over there, in that alley?” Buttons gestured with the back of his head. “Eyeing the mare, they are. Got your whip handy?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Can’t tell whether they want to eat her or steal her, but stay sharp.” Then to Thea, as if issuing a dare, “Let’s see jus’ how fast you can be.”
As she walked inside after several days’ absence, heading down the narrow hallway to her room on the second floor, seeing—and smelling—the bleak accommodations, it struck Thea anew how far she’d sunk.
Was that why she’d insisted they return this morning, after she’d basked in the grandeur of her stolen, illicit night? Why, in spite of her valid desire to retrieve the brush her mother gave her, she felt compelled to remind herself—perhaps to show Buttons—how very much she didn’t belong in Lord Tremayne’s world?
But you don’t belong here either, that intrusive inner voice insisted. You, Thea Jane, were born to gentility. ’Twas shortsighted Hurwell and his selfish cousin who reduced you to these circumstances, condemned you to a future not of your choosing.
Condemned? Time with Lord Tremayne felt anything but a punishment.
Ascending the rickety stairs, heading deeper into the bowels of the squalid place, especially after all the glitter and gleam she’d fallen into, made her recent past all that more embarrassing.
