Part 30 (1/2)
Trust, he'd said to her once. This is trust.
She would have to trust that he would always do what was best for her, even if she did not agree with his methods. Would she not do the same to protect him?
Filled with feelings that had no outlet, she sank to her knees and opened her mouth, giving him the pleasure she knew he desired.
Ahhh...how she loved it as well. The silky feel of him, his ravished gasp, those long fingers clenched in her hair.
”Yes,” he cried as he thrust his hips gently, his b.u.t.tocks like stone within her palms. ”I would die for this.”
A moment later he lifted her and carried her to the bed, her night rail drifting over her head to be cast aside. She sank into softness, covered by hardness and everything melted as he lifted her thigh and slid deep within her.
The strength of him, the hard length of his thrusting c.o.c.k, the damp skin, the near unbearable intimacy, was diminished by the intensity of his gaze.
Awash in heat and consumed by the memory of his words, she wrapped her arms around his straining body and cried with joy. Her tears wet his shoulder, mixed with his sweat, bound them together. Her body seized beneath his, suspended in o.r.g.a.s.m, held there by the steady plunge and withdrawal Marcus knew would prolong her pleasure.
And when he joined her, when he shuddered against her and cried out her name, she set her mouth to his ear and spoke her heart.
Chapter 21
”Mr. Christopher St. John has come to call, my lady.” Elizabeth looked up from her novel and stared at the butler with mouth agape. She dropped the book on the settee next to her and rose. ”Where did you put him?”
”In the lower parlor, my lady.”
Marcus had departed with the steward to survey some tenant properties that required repair. Elaine had retired for an afternoon nap, and Robert and Paul had gone to the village only an hour past. She was alone, but unafraid, nodding at the two guards who stood on either side of the parlor door.
Taking a deep breath, she swept into the room. St. John rose when she entered, splendidly attired and angelically handsome. He smiled and the brief reminiscence of Nigel momentarily disconcerted her.
As she drew closer, she noted he appeared leaner, the ever-present shadows under his eyes were darker, and while his bearing was as proud as ever, she could sense the weariness beneath the facade.
”Rather daring of you to come calling here.”
He shrugged. ”I half expected to see Westfield charging through that door. I 'm relieved it's you instead. I 'm not worthy of a fight right now.” He glanced over her head. ”Where is his lords.h.i.+p?”
”Near enough.”
His blond brows lifted, and his lips curved. ”As long as he gives me a wide berth, I 'll manage.”
”Eldridge is searching for you.”
Immediately the smile left Christopher's face. ”I know.”
”You say you want to help me, but you place my life in jeopardy by maintaining your silence.”
He spun away, moving toward the window to brush aside the curtain and stare at the front circular drive. ”I never wanted to involve you. I knew the man was vile, but to use you, to threaten you...” He growled. ”I wish to G.o.d that b.l.o.o.d.y journal had remained hidden.”
”I cannot say I feel the same. Perhaps if it had not arrived, Marcus and I would not have found each other again.”
Facing her, he offered a sad smile. He looked around, taking note of the liveried guards who stood conspicuously by the doorway. ”I see Westfield has you well-guarded. That eases my mind somewhat.”
”I see you look worn,” she retorted bluntly.
”Thank you for noticing,” he grumbled, ”after I took such pains to make myself presentable. I must remember to discharge my valet.”
”The best valet in the world cannot hide the signs of hard-living,” she retorted. ”Have you ever considered a change of occupation? The way you live is sapping the life from you.”
His full mouth thinned with displeasure. ”I am not here to discuss my way of life.”
Taking a seat, she waited for him to do the same. ”Very well then. I no longer have the journal.”
St. John cursed so foully Elizabeth blushed. ”Is it in Eldridge's possession?”
She hesitated a moment, wondering how wise it would be to tell him anything further. ”No,” she said finally, the restlessness of her fingers was the only betraying sign of her unease.
”Thank G.o.d. Keep it from him.”
”He has been content to allow Westfield to work on it. At the moment, he seems most interested in finding you.”
”Yes, he would be. I 'm surprised he waited this long, truth be told. I would venture to say he wanted all of his agents in a lather before he released them on me. He's nothing if not meticulous.”Elizabeth studied St. John carefully. ”Why did you come?”
”Once I learned Eldridge was looking for me I understood how delicate this situation has become. I don't know what to do. In the end there is only one solution and yet it's nearly impossible to implement.”
She opened her mouth to speak when a sudden disturbance outside drew their attention. Leaping to her feet, she ran with St. John to the window. Out front, a village cart tottered precariously on three wheels. ”Stay here,” she ordered, knowing Marcus would wish to speak with the pirate, perhaps even detain him.
Elizabeth took only a moment to ensure a.s.sistance was being offered and then turned back to the room. I t was empty. She stood blinking.
”Where did he go?” she asked the two guards.
They rushed in and quickly searched the s.p.a.ce.
St. John was gone.
Marcus leaned his shoulders against the headboard and adjusted the weight of his wife's sated body, which draped over his own. Even her grumbled protest failed to make him smile. He stroked his hand down the length of her spine, soothing her back to sleep, while finding his own elusive.
Why had St. John come? I f his aim had been the journal, he would want more than just Elizabeth's verbal confirmation that it was no longer with her. And yet he'd learned no more than that before dropping out the window and fleeing. To have arranged the distraction of the broken cart in advance was typical. To have known the house was emptied of Ashford men meant he'd been watching them.
His arms tightened around Elizabeth and her face nuzzled his chest in response. The pirate's warning was clear, You are not safe. Even in your ow n domain.
Even as he thought it, Marcus stilled. He c.o.c.ked his head, his ears straining to hear over the soft crackling coming from the grate. He was greeted by silence, but he couldn't relax. The hairs on his nape stood on end.
He'd long ago learned to trust his instincts, so he slid down to his back and rolled, settling Elizabeth into the pillows. Her arms surrounded him, accustomed to his habit of waking her for s.e.x. Pressing a quick kiss to her mouth, Marcus disentangled himself and withdrew from the warmth of the bed.
”What are you doing?” she complained, blinking.