A Secret Surrender Page 17

  “I’d planned to send you an invitation for a riding lesson, but I’m afraid I can’t organize that for this afternoon.” He watched for the slightest inkling that would indicate she was interested in doing so. “Would you want to do that?”

  “I never thought to ride. Surely it’s too late to learn.”

  “Never. I would consider it my privilege to teach you.”

  Her gaze softened. “Harry. You are too kind.”

  He nearly laughed. “I’ve never been accused of that.”

  She smiled demurely. “I accept your invitation.” Her gaze locked with his. “And your proposal.”

  Had he heard her correctly? “My proposal. You wish to have an affair?”

  She nodded, and the simple motion provoked a rush of yearning within Harry. “We should catch a hack.” She pivoted and started walking toward Newgate once more.

  Did she mean to begin their liaison now? When they reached Newgate, he hailed a hack. “Where are we going?” His voice cracked slightly as desire sparked inside him.

  Her gaze, vividly intense, met his. “To your house. If that’s all right.”

  Harry swallowed, thinking he must have misheard her, but knowing he hadn’t. The look she gave him was steady and sure, and it fed his soul. “Of course it’s all right.” It was bloody spectacular.

  He gave the driver his direction and helped Selina into the hack. Once they were settled inside and they began moving, he spoke.

  “The young woman—Mercy—who died in that fire… I’d met her a few months before. She was trying to change her life, and I sought to help.” He thought of the basket weaver, Maggie, and realized he wanted to help her in the same way. The way Selina wanted to support the children in Winter’s care. “I’d just found a seamstress who’d agreed to take her on as an apprentice.”

  “Was that all she was to you?” Selina asked. “A charitable endeavor?”

  “No, she was much more. Kind, intelligent, beautiful.”

  “You cared for her, then?”

  He nodded. “There wasn’t a strong attraction.” He pinned her with an aching stare. “Not like with you. But for a long time, I wondered if there might have been. If she hadn’t died.”

  “You were good to help her. Most people ignore young women like her—and children.”

  “You are incredibly affected by such people and their struggles. You seem to feel their disadvantage keenly. I understand you were an orphan, but you didn’t face the same hardships as they did, certainly.”

  She averted her gaze, turning her head so he could only barely see her profile. “What if I did?” she asked quietly.

  What was she saying? That she’d grown up like Mercy or the children at Winter’s home? “But you went to school.”

  “It was a stroke of good fortune and generosity that Beatrix and I were accepted at the ladies’ seminary.”

  He thought she was going to say more, but she didn’t. They rode in silence for a few minutes, during which Harry could sense her anxiety. Was she regretting her decision to go to his house?

  “Selina, if at any moment you’d prefer to go home, I will take you there instead.”

  She kept her attention away from him. “Thank you. I will not hesitate to speak my mind.” There was a dry quality to her tone that made him smile.

  “I can’t imagine you would.” He leaned closer and whispered, “That’s a rather captivating quality.”

  She swung her head toward him, which brought their lips temptingly close. “Is it? Most men would disagree.” Her gaze dipped to his mouth. “But you are not most men.”

  “No.”

  “That is why I’m going to your house.” Her lashes fluttered as their eyes connected once more just before she pressed her lips to his.

  Harry brought his hand up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he kissed her back. Thoughts of investigations and the past faded away, leaving just this moment, this delightful sensation.

  Selina’s orange-honeysuckle scent filled his senses, stirring his desire. She put her hand under his coat and clutched at his side, pulling him closer. Her tongue slid against his as they both deepened the kiss, each of them seeking more.

  Harry gave himself to the passion swirling between them. It had been there since the moment she’d tripped into his arms—at least for him. Selina was the most unusual, enigmatic woman he’d ever met. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to her. She was a mystery to be uncovered. Right now, he peeled another layer away. Or was it that she revealed the next one?

  As they kissed, she turned on the seat. He slid his other arm behind her and pressed her back into the corner, rising over her. He stroked down her jaw and neck and rested his hand at the base of her throat. He would be able to feel the skin of her neck if he wasn’t wearing his bloody gloves. Soon, he hoped, there would be nothing between them. He went completely hard at the thought.

  She moved her other hand up to clasp his head, holding him to her as she explored his mouth, taunting him with her lips and tongue. The kiss was fierce and delicious, setting Harry utterly aflame with need.

  He ran his thumb along her neck, then moved his lips to follow that path, kissing along her flesh. She arched her back with a soft moan. Harry slid his hand down, caressing her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers dug into his nape. He splayed his fingers, lightly clasping her through the annoying layers of her clothing.

  She moved beneath him, her body arching and seeking. Harry pressed down against her, his hips meeting hers.

  The neckline of her walking dress prevented him from kissing lower than her neck. He dragged his mouth away and looked down at her.

  She opened her eyes, and he sat back. Her brows pitched over her eyes. “Why did you stop?”

  “We’re nearly there.”

  She sat up, straightening and smoothing her gown over her legs. He noticed then that her hand was shaking. Alarmed, he reached for her, clasping her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  Her head snapped around just as the coach came to a stop. Silently cursing the interruption, Harry opened the door and jumped from the vehicle. He paid the driver, then helped Selina out.

  They stood at the entry to the alley behind the row of terraced houses where his was located. He meant to take her in the back for privacy’s sake.

  Taking her hand once more, he moved close as the hack rumbled away over the cobblestones. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. It’s just… I haven’t done this in a very long time. My husband… We didn’t…”

  “Oh. Well, that’s all right. We’ll go very slowly. Or we can wait until you’re comfortable.”

  She looked up at him and gently touched his jaw, her gloved fingertips grazing his skin. “Take me inside. Please.”

  Harry tucked her hand around his arm and led her to the back of his terrace at number seventeen. He reached for the door, but she stopped him, putting her hand on his. “Wait.”

  He turned to face her. “I meant what I said. If you’ve changed your mind—”

  “When I left school, it was to take a position as a governess.”

  She’d gone from governess to wife of a baronet? “Was that your husband?”

  She shook her head. “Someone else. I was not anyone of import, certainly not someone who would meet or marry a baronet.” She spoke coldly, distastefully, as if she were talking about someone other than herself. “My employer was not a good man. He took advantage of his position and my vulnerability. He…violated me. Physically.”

  Rage spun through Harry. “Who is he?” Harry didn’t care if he was a bloody duke.

  “I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy or your outrage. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. At least, I am now.”

  Harry thought of the pistol she said she always carried. Now it made more sense than he could have imagined. His heart ached for her, just as the fury she told him he shouldn’t feel anchored in his chest. “Then why are you telling me? Tell me what yo
u want me to do.”

  “Just listen.” The simplicity of her request quieted the anger inside him.

  He cupped her face. “Tell me.”

  “I was young, just seventeen. After he raped me, I left. I fetched Beatrix from school, and I’ve taken care of her ever since.” Her voice held no emotion but something burned in the depths of her blue eyes. “My husband, Sir Barnabus, was a kind and understanding man. He was also rather old and had no desire for the marriage bed.”

  She’d never known a man’s touch in a caring manner. Harry was incredibly humbled that she trusted him. “You can still change your mind,” he said softly, gently caressing her face with his thumbs.

  “I’m not going to. I’ve waited a very long time for the right moment. The right man. It’s now. You’re him. Will you take me upstairs?”

  “Selina, my darling, I will take you anywhere you want to go.” He kissed her sweetly, and then he opened the door.

  * * *

  Selina couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from uttering secrets she’d long kept buried. No one knew what had happened to her when she’d been a governess except Beatrix. She was torn between feeling regret for having opened herself up to Harry and an overwhelming sense of liberation.

  The latter felt much better, so she decided to grasp it with both hands, just as she intended to do with Harry. The sensible part of her brain told her to go home, to play the role she’d performed the past twelve years. But the part of her that was always pushed to the side, ignored and repressed, longed to be free to pursue her most basic desires: comfort, care, love.

  Not that this was love. That was not an emotion she allowed. Not for anyone except Beatrix, because they only had each other.

  Harry took her hand and led her up the backstairs to the first floor. His chamber was at the rear of the small house—smaller even than hers. Decorated in dark, rich tones of burgundy and sable, the room provoked a sense of comfort along with passion. Two things that might have been at odds, but seemed perfect when she thought of him.

  He made her feel more relaxed than anyone in a very long time, maybe forever. While at the same time, he kept her on edge, both because of who he was and because of the attraction that smoldered between them. How different would things be if she were not a fraud and he were not a Runner?

  He let go of her hand as they entered the bedchamber. Selina removed her gloves and then her hat, glancing around at where to put them. Harry took them from her and set them on a chair near the hearth.

  Selina surveyed the room, but mostly focused on the bed against the left wall. Hung with burgundy draperies and covered with opulent bedcoverings, it reminded her of who he was. He might be a Bow Street Runner, but he was also the son of an earl.

  That made it hard to forget who she was: a child of the streets with no knowledge of who her parents even were. She was worse than an orphan.

  But she would forget. At least for now. She’d spent her life doing just that.

  Removing his hat and gloves, Harry set them on a dresser. Then he removed his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. Seeing him in just his shirtsleeves made him seem even larger—his shoulders more broad, his presence more imposing. Not in an intimidating way, but an alluring one.

  Selina stood near the end of the bed where there was a cushioned bench. Harry came and sat. “This is where I put my boots on every morning. And take them off every night.” He removed one, then the other, revealing his stocking-clad feet. “I don’t know that I’ve ever removed them in the middle of the afternoon.” He pulled off the stockings next and looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye.

  She sat beside him and leaned over to unlace her boots. He quickly knelt before her. “Allow me.”

  Selina sat up and let him take over removing her boots. He did so adroitly, his fingers moving while he kept his eyes locked with hers. The simple task was anything but. She’d rarely had anyone help her dress, even now that she had a maid. This was different, however. Because he was a man. Because he was looking at her with naked desire. Because her entire body thrummed with an answering need.

  “How old are you?” he asked softly.

  “Nine and twenty.”

  “I’m just two years older,” he said, removing the first boot and moving on to the next.

  “But far more experienced, I’d wager.” She suddenly felt nervous.

  “I possess no rakish tendencies.” He chuckled. “I leave that to my brother.” He finished with the second boot and set it next to the first. He clasped each of her ankles, his fingers wrapping around her as his thumbs moved across the top of her feet to the front of her shins. “Shall I remove your stockings?”

  “Yes.” She slowly raised her skirt to her knees and then just above so that the garters were exposed.

  Harry slid his hands up, his fingers gently grazing her calves. Then he removed one garter and stocking, sweeping them from her leg as she pointed her toes. He repeated the action on the other leg—as did she. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

  He moved between her legs and lifted a hand to her face, his palm caressing her cheek. Then he kissed her, bringing her head down so he could plunder her mouth. It was at once tender and wild, unleashing the passion that had smoldered between them this past fortnight. Selina thrust her hands into his dark auburn hair, clutching at him lest he decide he didn’t want this.

  Would he? Of course not. Men didn’t change their minds about such things. Yet Selina had schooled herself to always be prepared to be left wanting, alone.

  Now she would take what she wanted, what she deserved. What Harry was freely offering.

  Harry held her firmly, his lips and tongue wreaking a delicious havoc on her senses. Then he plucked at the buttons of her spencer, and they had to work together to get it off, given how tightly it fit around her arms.

  “Women’s clothing looks lovely, but is truly a pain in the arse,” Harry quipped with a half smile.

  “The fancier and more expensive it is, the worse it gets.” Selina preferred her simpler gowns when she wasn’t pretending to be a baronet’s widow. She unknotted his cravat. “Men’s clothing doesn’t seem to change much, with the exception of fabric.”

  “There are various choices of things to wear on our lower halves. But yes, other than that, it’s relatively boring. Which is fine by me.”

  She stripped his cravat away and dropped it to the floor. Her gaze fixed on the flesh now exposed by the open neck of his shirt. Captivated, she bent her head and pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat. He groaned softly, emboldening her. She flicked her tongue over him, tasting him.

  He whispered, “Selina,” before capturing her head and kissing her once more.

  Everything happened in a haze after that. He lifted her to stand and worked at her clothing, methodically stripping each piece away with a deft ability. Meanwhile, she only managed to unbutton his waistcoat.

  When she stood before him in nothing but her chemise, he paused to look at her. Selina couldn’t have imagined the expression in his eyes—a mix of admiration and awe. No man had ever gazed at her like that.

  The last vestiges of her fear and anxiety melted away. She swept the chemise down over her body and let it pool at her feet.

  Harry swallowed. “You take my breath away.”

  She stepped forward, intent on making him as naked as her. That simple act—both of them being bare—already changed everything she thought she knew about sex. In her experience, and she’d seen plenty before she’d left London, it was a hurried, animalistic, and sometimes brutal deed in which no one removed their clothing.

  Tugging his shirt from the waistband of his breeches, Selina maintained eye contact, losing herself in the seductive depths of his tawny gaze. He pulled the garment over his head, revealing the muscular expanse of his chest. Selina sucked in a breath at his stark male beauty. Unable to resist touching him, she ran her fingertips over his collarbone, then dragged them down to his nipple.

  His br
eath hissed from his mouth, and he suddenly swept her up and carried her to the side of the bed. Setting her down on the edge, he moved between her legs. She unbuttoned his fall, but stopped short of pushing his breeches down, probably because he started kissing her again. And touching her, feather-soft caresses along her nape, her back, and then along her side and up her sternum. Finally, his hand closed around her breast as he’d done in the hack, but this was so much better.

  Selina gasped into his mouth and clutched at his shoulders. He dragged his thumb over her nipple, and the ensuing sensation was akin to the tension she felt when she took an especially great risk—a coiling of emotion and physical desperation that could explode at any moment.

  He kissed along her jaw and down her neck. She cast her head back and closed her eyes, focusing entirely on what he was doing to her and the reaction he coaxed from her body. She quivered with a need she’d never known. How was it possible she’d come this far in her life without feeling this bone-deep desire for another person?

  Because it made her vulnerable. And vulnerability was unsafe. Until now. Harry made her feel exposed, but in a way that made her feel honored, as if he would take care of her always.

  His fingers squeezed around her nipple, sending a shock of need straight to her sex. She’d seen and heard people enjoying this act, and now perhaps she understood.

  Harry’s mouth descended, his tongue and lips teasing her flesh as he made his way to her breast. He held her in his hand as his mouth closed over her nipple. Heat flooded her sex, and she whimpered, desperate for him to touch her, to relieve the pressure.

  He was, however, quite content to focus on her breasts, his hands and mouth arousing every part of her. She held him, pulling at him to move closer, to end her torment.

  One of his hands trailed down over her abdomen, then along her thigh. She tensed even more, anticipation spiraling through her as his fingertip grazed her sex. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and back as she whispered his name. It was an urgent plea to set her free.

  “Lie back.” He gently pushed her backward. She went, helpless to resist whatever he wished to do. She wanted everything he would give her.