Captive Scoundrel Page 7

“You mutilated my—”

  “Never mind, dolt.” She didn’t want to know what she crushed. She retrieved the washcloth and threw it at his head. “That’s what you get, you disagreeable, bad-tempered….”

  He caught her arm as she turned away. “Faith. I was teasing.”

  “Knowing full well how uncomfortable I found handling your private parts?”

  “I like you handling my private parts.”

  Faith pulled from his grip and emptied the wash basin over his no-longer private parts. “Go to the devil, Justin Devereux.”

  “Damn it, woman, that’s hot.” He spoiled his rage by chuckling at her ire.

  In her room, Faith leaned against her closed door. Chequered with outrageous curses—for her entertainment, she was certain—his amusement sounded wonderful.

  Later she returned to find him naked and sound asleep on the dry side of the bed. And for the first time, Faith was able to study him, his wide shoulders, no longer defined by bone, but muscle, the dark hair on his chest that arrowed toward…everything. She should be embarrassed, but she was not, and she could not look away. Even in repose—and she had once seen that particular man part otherwise—Faith thought him splendid.

  Her mother had spoken to her of desire as the need for the physical expression of love between two people. But Faith had not really understood…until this moment, when she responded physically, her body reacting of its own volition, to the beauty of his.

  Entranced, she stepped closer…and looked into dark knowing eyes, the lines around them blossoming with his smile.

  Justin wanted to say, ‘Caught you,’ but she’d catch fire, so red were her cheeks. “I’m cold,” he said, instead, and was thanked with a grateful expression as she covered him.

  Then he watched her change the bed linen—the reason for its slogged state and her clandestine examination, sitting heavily between them. He liked the blush that stole up her neck. Not for the first time, he wondered where it began and wanted to ask. But she was distressed enough without him embarrassing her further. Did she sense this attachment between them? A connection forged by care, admiration, and something…more? “Damn it, no!”

  Faith looked up. “Cross again? Have I tucked a blanket wrong? I vow, you’d find fault with a fat goose.”

  “Sit down, will you. Your fussing makes me dizzy.”

  “Fussing is it? You would rather sleep in a wet bed?”

  “I expect I have before.”

  She regarded her hands with interest. “Not since I arrived.”

  “I thank you for that.” He took her hand. “Forgive my fitful disposition. It’s difficult to lie here and be waited upon. I am become a burden, and I had rather be the saviour than the saved.”

  Mischief sparked in her emerald eyes as she slipped his nightshirt over his head. “As you would rather be the seducer than the seduced?”

  He smiled inwardly and decided to allow her attempt to cheer him. “Seducer? What makes you say that?”

  “I hear that you were a rake of the first order.”

  “Good God, way out in Arundel? How old were you? Five?”

  Her laugh, like cool water sluiced over his fevered body. They’d taken a turn in their relationship. It spoke more of man and woman, less of patient and nurse. And Justin wasn’t certain he liked it. “I left raking behind when I married.” Aye, and his manhood as well. “Pray, where did you hear such tales?”

  “Mrs. Tucker.”

  “You befriended that harridan? I am impressed. Your talents are endless, it seems. Can you tame a wild beast?”

  She looked directly into his eyes. “Not yet.”

  “Perhaps, but you have awakened him.”

  Her green eyes widened.

  “Be prudent with your maidenly innocence, my dear, lest you be ravished for the sport of it.”

  “Are maidens more likely to be ravished than matrons?”

  “Yes, for maidens are tender and easy to the bit.”

  “Like lambs? Tender and tasty to the palate, you mean.”

  “Do I?”

  Faith turned to tidy the room.

  He had learned to measure her by her barometer of blushing agitation. And at this moment, it threatened combustion.

  “Harris told me about your way with women. How they flirted outrageously. You were deemed quite the catch, he said.”

  “Harris is an old fool.”

  Her laugh was easy and melodious, and Justin savoured it. “I have called him such myself,” she said. “But I love him.”

  “Foolish child. How can you love someone you hardly know? You throw the word about as if the absurdity exists.”

  She straightened, alert, wary. “Does it not, in your opinion?”

  He damn near snorted. “It does not.”

  “Believe as you wish. But you are more likely to be captured by what catches you unaware, physical or emotional.” She tilted her head. “And I begin to believe love can be both at once.”

  Justin chuckled self-derisively. “And I called you a child.” That would teach him to consider this woman dangerous in more ways than the usual. If he allowed it, she might make him believe in fairies and love-potions. Now that he was better, he should send her away, but at the notion, pain struck at his centre, deep and agonizing. “Damn it, Faith! Stop fussing and come rest.”

  “You have a decidedly low opinion of my actions. But to humour you, your grace, I shall rest.” She sat in her chair, lay her head back and closed her eyes. “For a moment.”

  She was probably more exhausted than he. Sooty circles rimmed her eyes. Her hair hung limp. Damn. She should see to herself, at least as well as she saw to him. “Faith?” God’s teeth, she slept quickly. “Faith, wake up.” He grasped her skirt and tugged. “Blast it, your neck will be sore.”

  She jumped. “Are you ill?” She stood so fast, she looked as if she might faint.

  He held her hips to steady her, sliding his hands to her waist, learning her shape with his palms. “I wonder how you can care for someone else, when you cannot care for yourself.”

  “I have the sense to cosh you. You frightened me senseless. Are you behaving like a bear because you’re hungry as one?”

  He curled his fingers into her, stroking her waist ever so slightly. “No, but I may have a thorn in my paw.”

  She pursed her lips. “I must conclude then that both paws are injured, for they seem to be seeking ease against my person.”

  He surprised himself with his bark of laughter, as much as he apparently surprised her. He gave her waist a squeeze. “I hereby order you to go and rest. I shall call if I need you.”

  She stepped from his hold. “Are you ordering me to neglect you so you may discharge me without conscience? Thank you, but no.” Her look changed. “You’re flushed. Do you have a fever?” She placed her hand on his forehead, slid it to his cheek.

  He turned his face into her touch, nearly kissing her palm, and noted the danger.

  “Stop that,” she said. From her look, you’d think he’d broken her heart with such attention.

  “Blast it, Faith. If you don’t lie down beside me, I’ll shout down the house and everyone will know I’m well.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Of course he wouldn’t. “Do as I say, or you will find out.” Stubborn, stubborn woman. “Come; you’ll be here if I need you.”

  The set of her jaw told him she didn’t intend to budge.

  “Damn it, you have slept beside me before. Hell, you’ve slept entangled with me. Stay above the covers, if you must. I promise on my honour as a—”

  “Rake.”

  “A gentleman. Have you no trust in me?”

  She raised a brow. “You know the meaning of trust then?” He ignored the taunt. “I’m hardly in a position to compromise you.”

  She laughed again. “I’m so very compromised now, there is little left over which to worry.”

  “There is much over which to worry, make no mistake.” He only wished there were more. Th
ough he had the inclination, his body refused to cooperate. But there was more to life than the sexual, was there not? And there could be pleasure for Faith, at least. He could…oh wicked, dangerous thought.

  “I confess, I am tired,” she said.

  “Finally, you show a modicum of sense.”

  “As usual, you act the hind end of a—”

  “Hush. Come to bed.”

  Shaking her head, Faith grudgingly climbed onto the opposite side and curled up, facing him “Did you never wonder,” she asked, “Why God made more horses hind ends than he made horses?”

  “You’ll get no rest, if you’re annoyed,” he said.

  She released a slow breath, and fought her smile. He applauded her attempt. Her thick lashes fluttered against porcelain cheeks.

  As Justin closed his own eyes, he wondered if Faith coming to nurse him was a gift, or a curse.

  Justin awoke to find Faith’s breast against his hand. He felt her budding nipple, closed his eyes and wished…Damnation. He eased himself away. Distance held safety for them both. He was a man flawed. And married. And Faith Wickham deserved better.

  He’d never known a woman like her. Known one? He couldn’t imagine one. No amount of money could induce Catherine to endure what Faith had. He’d seen his suffering reflected in Faith’s eyes. And no matter his yearning, nothing could come of a connection between them. He had ended, he reminded himself, half a man, and that half was married.

  Even if he divorced Catherine, which he would, an unmarried woman could not consort with a divorced man. He nearly laughed. An unmarried woman could not sleep beside a married man either, but Faith did exactly that. Strange circumstances, he told himself, made unusual bed-mates. Still, to avoid society’s censure, when he recovered, he and Faith must part. And with that realization came pain, sharp and stabbing, and Justin groaned.

  Faith sat up. “What’s wrong, love?”

  She was so foggy, she didn’t realize what she said. Hell, she probably called every mewling kitten, love. As always, when he became ill, she took him into her arms.

  Justin held her. He needed her strength until desolation passed. She thought him physically ill, and illness did plague him. Illness of spirit. For suddenly he felt overwhelming grief, as if his struggle had been for naught and he might as well have expired as recovered. There was nothing for him here. He’d lost Beth, and Faith, well, she was nothing more than an aberration, a last favour from above.

  “It’s all right. I’m here,” she said, sensing his despair. “You’ve lost so much. It must be difficult to come to terms with all of it.”

  Beth’s death? Never. “Terms be damned. I’ll never accept what happened, and I’ll have retribution, make no mistake.”

  “Revenge won’t solve anything. And you’ve healing to do before you’re ready to take on the world. Be patient and we’ll do it together. All of it. In time.”

  She would stand by him? While he ran his brother through? “You don’t know what you’re saying. Go home to that big, happy family with a mother and father who love you. That’s rare, Faith, a family like yours. You know nothing of fighting.” He looked into her eyes. “You know nothing of losing.”

  Faith struggled from his arms and rose. “I know of struggle and loss. I fought for your life, and I fought hard. Perhaps this time I won. But with my grandfather, I did not. And he lost more than I; he lost his life. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re right. I’m nothing but a useless child.”

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I never cry.”

  Not for herself. But she cried for others. He’d seen her. He couldn’t keep from reaching out, from pulling her down with him. The kiss began tenderly. The taste of her intoxicated him. He teased her lips open with his, then she whimpered as he closed his mouth over hers. She was young, untried. He should stop.

  Instead, he settled her across his lap and kissed her again. “You taste like honey.” Her heart beat against his. He pulled her closer and gloried in her compliance. She stroked his nape, sliding her hand beneath his nightshirt before snatching it back.

  Heat raced through Faith. She didn’t know if it was shock over her wandering hand, or just plain lust. Likely lust, the kind Jimmy Kennedy told her about when they were twelve.

  And she’d thought he was making the whole thing up.

  But this was real. She was in Justin’s bed, sitting across his lap, simmering like a pudding in his arms. How could such a gentle touch evoke such heat? And did she alone melt within the inferno? She thought not. Justin breathed hard, as if he’d been running. Under her hand, his heart beat strong and fast.

  His kiss gentled; he stroked the side of her breast, and white-hot flames shot through her. If she stood, her knees would buckle, the pulsating surge within her incredibly shocking and remarkably pleasant.

  It was bad. It was good. A rapture she never imagined.

  When Justin stroked her naked breast, Faith sighed, floated, and opened her eyes to watch, mesmerized, as he encircled the delicate tip with his lips. “Justin!”

  He looked up. Confused. As if he burned with fever still.

  Faith slid from his lap, to catch her breath.

  “Faith I—”

  “We have to stop. I never…I mean it was…fascinating. But I….” She craved answers. When had this attraction begun? Where would it end? And would she survive? “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry.” Justin’s laughter resonated with insult. His look changed to anger, disappointment.

  Faith’s foolish apology echoed in her head. She really was an ignorant child. Even his narrow-eyed expression mocked her. She looked to where his gaze centred…and nearly expired at the sight of her exposed breast, the nipple hard and aching. She gasped and turned, her haste ridiculous in its tardiness.

  Willing her gathering tears not to spill, she pulled her chemise up to cover herself. And with shaking hands, she retied the laces she couldn’t remember coming undone.

  Awkwardness plagued her. How she dreaded looking into his eyes. Surely he knew she liked what he did, without her being foolish enough to say so. Fascinating indeed. Did this skill he possessed have any bearing on Justin’s popularity with the ladies?

  Suddenly she hated every woman he ever touched. Hated being one of them. She wondered if even a one, including herself, meant any more to him than a moment of stolen pleasure.

  Without turning, Faith rose from her side of the bed. Sun rays needled into the room illuminating her in her foolishness. She smoothed her skirts. If only she could leave without facing him, but she needed to go around the bed to get to her door. So she raised her chin and trained her gaze on her goal.

  As she passed his side of the bed, Justin caught her about the waist and drew her back. Once she was there, his hands at her waist, his thumbs stroking beneath her breasts, she couldn’t seem to gather the moral strength to move.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should not have.” His hands slid down her hips and away.

  Silence.

  She needn’t have worried about facing him. He lay back, shielding his eyes. “It was no good from the start,” he said.

  His words, like a knife, cut her. Had he disliked their intimacy? For her it had been…why she had practically….Her heart quickened just thinking about it. She would have said yes to whatever he’d asked, would have let him do anything.

  She should be grateful she displeased him. Her virtue remained intact. Which mattered little, for she wanted him to pull her close and kiss her again, to say how wonderful she made him feel. She was a naive child, and the worldly Justin Devereux had kissed women who knew what they were about, who knew how to please a man.

  In her room, she shut the door between, leaned against it, and touched her breast. A tender ache, not pain, not pleasure. Foolish her. She longed for something of which she knew nothing.

  Pacing her room, she craved a few moments away. She checked Justin and saw he slept. Ten minutes later, she approached the beach sh
e’d seen from the window. The hair blowing in her eyes gave her a good, solid reason to be annoyed. She pulled her shawl tight against the chill in the September wind. Gulls circled an outcropping of rocks, their cries in sympathy with her plight.

  When she reached the shingle, she scooped a handful of pebbles and stepped to the lapping froth. The sea swallowed a smooth bronze stone with barely a ripple. Creeping foam pushed her back. “Beware of forces more powerful than you,” it warned. And she understood, for she could as easily drown in Justin’s kisses.

  She walked back up the beach and sat amid ballooning skirts on dry, sun-warmed sand, hugged her knees, and gazed at the horizon.