Page 30 of A Daring Pursuit (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #2)

W ith such gentleness that nearly brought her to tears, Geneva was set to her feet, held on to until she was steady and not in fear of collapsing where she stood. Oh, how she longed to cling to such strength. But it was important to remember and impossible to forget she was that trivial nonentity.

“What was that about, darling?” Noah asked her.

“I-I don’t know.” Forcing herself from him, she made her way to the settee before a low fire. She did her best to keep her mind clear to stave off any recurrence of that unbearable pain. A glass of brandy was pressed in her hand. She took a sip that burned away the cobwebs, allowing her to breathe again. A small yet encouraging sign.

“Perhaps we should send for the doctor again.”

Geneva let out an indelicate snort. “What do you mean ‘again’? I’ve never required a doctor in my life.”

“I beg to differ,” Noah shot back. “We were most concerned after that fall you sustained. And with the rain…” He shuddered.

Geneva frowned. “I didn’t see a doctor.”

“Darling, you were unconscious.” His lips turned down, and he speared her with furrowed brows. “I think you may have left your bed too soon. Clearly, you were not well enough for tonight’s event.”

Her palm flew up. “Stop right there. It was my decision to attend. Not yours. I wouldn’t have missed Isabelle playing had I been on my deathbed or… or dumped in an unmarked grave.” She took in a deep, cautious breath. Thus far, to her relief, the absence of pain remained managed.

His expression softened and he moved quickly and dropped beside her. He framed her face with both hands. Warm, soothing hands. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?” His husky tonality sent a thrilling shiver weaving through her veins, her bones, her body.

Any words to respond fled in the wake of those warm hands. Her eyes clamped shut as desperate need tore through her. No pickax tore through her head. The only pounding was her heart against her ribs akin to running for her life in Berwick Street. Only this time, she was caught with no desire to escape.

As light as a moonbeam on calm waters, his lips misted hers. Her lips parted, but he dared to tease her with anticipation, allure, urgency. His hands cupped her shoulders, and disappointingly, maintained an almost respectable distance. She flattened her hands on his chest. Molded them to the contours of his body.

She went up on her toes and captured his lips, drew his tongue into her mouth. Yes.

His hands slid to her back, pressing her into the hard wall of his chest. Her arms smoothed up and around his neck. Stroke after stroke—his, hers, she couldn’t tell and didn’t care—their tongues danced. To crawl into his skin would not be enough. He breathed the very life into her.

Right there in that moment, she knew she would perish if…

He broke away, groaning. “We must stop,” he said on a harsh exhale.

Geneva covered her mouth with the back of her hand, unable to speak. But of course he was right. If anyone caught them, he would be forced to an unthinkable action—marriage, to her. Worse, she would be run out of Alnmouth, Stonemare , ostracized, accused of attempting to trap a man miles above her in class. She broke the contact and tried pushing from him.

But things took a swift change. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t you dare get it into your head that I regret you kissing me. I wish to ravish you senseless. But not at the risk of someone walking in on us.”

Geneva nodded. It was just as she’d thought.

“I wish to marry you,” he said.

“Yes, yes. I understand—w-what?”

“I want to marry you. And I don’t want anyone questioning my reasons why.”

“But…”

“Don’t you want to marry me? I realize I’m nothing but a wearisome scientist.”

“You are anything but wearisome,” she whispered. “It is I who am unworthy. You are an earl’s brother, while I grew up near the slums in London.”

“You also have friends in high places. Not that I put stock in such things.” He leaned over and brushed her lips again. “I believe we have more to learn of one another, and now we shall have the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, Noah.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, tears blurring her vision. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not giving you back.”

The passion erupted with unparalleled ferocity. Once more, his mouth crashed over hers, his tongue lavishing her with untold secrets. Secrets she only wished to explore with him. She pulled away and tugged at his cravat.

“Yes,” he breathed, stripping it away.

She shoved at his hands and tugged at the few buttons in sight. One flew and pinged against the ceramic tiling before the fire. The need to feel his skin beneath her fingertips overwhelmed her, but in her frustration, he usurped her hands and stripped off his waistcoat. He tugged the shirt from his breeches and whipped it over his head.

A moan escaped her—he caught it with his lips. One large hand covered her breast in a light squeeze, a move that had her gasping and him smiling against her mouth. She pulled away, her eyes meeting his. Eyes that devoured her, with something she’d never experienced in her life: hunger. For her. No doubt of yearning, not with the palpable craving he exuded.

Heat washed through her.

His hand moved from her breast to her hand. He took it and placed it on the bulge of his breeches. “This is what you do to me. I won’t be mending you. Just the opposite.” The husky tone stole beneath her skin. “It’s you who shall be curing me.”

Her palm burned through the material. The impulse to enwrap her fingers around the forge-fired rod etched itself into her soul. “I—” She swallowed. She feared that boldness, the bane of her existence, would desert her at a most inopportune moment, but she drew in a sharp breath. “I wish to see.”

He smiled with a tenderness that weakened any resolve she could have hoped she possessed. “Of course you do.” He planted a kiss on her lips that trembled with… with, not fear, but… exhilaration. “One moment.” He rose and went to the door, cracked it ajar, and peered out. He shot her a quick, wicked glance, then pushed until it latched and twisted the key in the lock.

“This is quite perilous,” she whispered.

“And exciting.”

“Most exciting.”

He turned her about and made quick work of Abra’s beautiful, blue dress. It sagged and, with haste, her hands splayed across the bodice to hold it in place. Soft but firm lips touched her neck, just under her ear, sending shivers cascading down, swirling and weaving about her spine.

Geneva spun and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Noah.” The dress slid down her body and she couldn’t make herself care. She set her lips to his jaw, touching his skin with the tip of her tongue. His hands, large and warm, smoothed from her back to her bum, molding her to his bare torso, his erection, hot against her abdomen. “We should wait,” he said.

“No.”

“I want to insist, but…” His hands fell away from her and went to the placket of his breeches. “But I can’t.”

She fumbled with her stays and corset without success.

His member sprang free—his very large member. She froze, staring. She knew the mechanics. The corner prostitutes cared not for privacy, nor did the men taking them in the shadows of closed door fronts. She raised her eyes to his and swallowed hard. Her fingers tingled for wont of feeling that roused conflagration.

“Go ahead,” he growled. “You can’t hurt me.”

Reaching forward with an unfamiliar tentativeness, she brushed her shaking fingers against velvet-covered fire.

He let out a low-keeling moan and grasped her hand, guiding, showing her how to wrap her hand about him. The heat singed her palm, spread through her from her toes up, settling in a decidedly unmentionable place. The stays dropped in a pool at her feet without her having realized he’d taken over the task of relieving her of them. The corset parted and his breaths grew rapid, sending her stomach into a riot of chaos.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, leaning forward and licking her skin, leaving a fiery torrent in its wake. He cupped her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth. The sensation was wickedly obscene. Never had she imagined such sinful decadence existed. A new appreciation for those ladies of the night prickled her.

His mouth moved to the other breast, leaving cool air to pebble the exposed nipple to a hard nub. Large fingers crept their way from her breasts, smoothing over her abdomen, to the curls between her legs. No place anyone had ever touched. The skin there quivered and a shot of warmth touched the inside of her thigh.

Her hand shot to his wrist and she squeezed.

Noah lifted his head, meeting her gaze with heated desire and a touch of amusement. “It’s all right, love.” He inserted one finger, then a second.

“What…” But the words were pilfered from her like a cutpurse on the run with his goods. Quick as a gale off the sea, she was swept off her stockinged feet, her legs hugging his hips.

His hand stole between their bodies, his breaths harsh rasps. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll attempt to be gentle.”

But Geneva didn’t want gentle. She clutched his hair in her fists—“I don’t need gentle”—and tugged.

His hips surged.

The pain was sharp, but she swallowed her own cry with his mouth over hers.

His hands flexed in the fleshy parts of her bottom. The pain dissipated and, while his impalement filled her, stealing the ability to speak, the warmth blossomed to something insatiable. Perspiration broke out over his skin. It was slick beneath her fingers. Wild yearning soared through her blood. She tightened her legs, reaching for the unreachable. Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs. Groaning, he lifted then lowered her. With each pass, his movements grew more frenzied until their pants united. Until black edged her vision. Until her own body grew intolerable and a burst of stars exploded behind her closed eyes and left her floating adrift.

Noah’s hands tightened on her, his neck taut with corded muscles, two grunts, and a shout muffled by her sternum as he was throbbing within her. “God, Geneva. God.” His whispered breath was hot against her.

With painstaking care, he lifted her, severing his body from hers and setting her gently to her feet.

The sense of loss was significant. More so, as he stuffed his—oh, heavens, what was she supposed to call that massive piece of flesh after such an event—into his breeches, along with his shirt before buttoning the flap. He strode to the basin and dipped a cloth, cleaned his hands, then took her to the bed and gently cleaned her thighs and her private area. After dropping the cloth back near the basin, he snatched up his waistcoat and shrugged into it then grabbed his cravat and tied it loosely about his neck.

With each layer he reapplied, her heart sunk farther past the hard planks of the floor. The sense of loss turned to one of helplessness while she stood there arms hugging her nudity.

Slowly, he stood upright, scrutinizing her with a sharp gleam in his eye. “For such a bold and forthright woman, I do believe you do not value your true self.”

Her head jerked up as the familiar cutting rejoinders crowded her throat. Before a single one could spew forth, she was swept off her feet, carried to the bed, and set gently to her feet on the floor beside it. “I must leave. Pasha is sure to pound down the door at any moment. I will not have someone saying you trapped me—”

“ Trapped you !”

“Yes.” He swooped in for a hot, quick kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. His lips moved to her neck. He pulled her hands from covering her breasts and held them out, looking at her until her body flushed with heat that started between her legs. “You are so beautiful. I want to crawl in the bed with you and show you exactly how much so.” He brought her hands to his lips then dropped his hold and jerked the coverlets back, picked her back up, and tossed her in the middle of the mattress before tucking the covers about her.

Noah moved quickly to where her discarded garments pooled on the floor and grabbed them. He then shook them out and laid them across the settee. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, love.” One last touch of his lips and he was slipping out the door.

Geneva brought her fingers to her lips, stunned by the emotions roiling through her. A blossom of petals unfurling into full bloom. A cautious sense of bliss, exultation of euphoria? Perhaps it was the evaluative gaze he’d raked over her with its playful light that ignited the unfailing adoration and tender compassion flourishing through her.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the searing imprint of his hand on her skin. Delight. Joy. Hope.

For the first time since her mother’s passing, it was hope that triumphed and allowed her to fall into a blissful slumber.

*

Noah had never felt so… so sated. So replete. So hungry for more. His entire body hummed with need and longing for a life that his uncle had managed to affect with his aunt. The sentiments felt so close, his fingers tingled with a desire to reach out, grasp, and cling to the possibility of such great happiness and contentment.

Sleep was as far from his reach as crawling in Geneva’s bed tonight. He made his way down the stairs to the library and let himself in.

And stopped.

“Ah, Noah,” Sander said. “Come, join us for a drink before the gentlemen take themselves off to Alnmouth for the night.” Mr. Asher, Lord Martindale, and his uncle stood around the fire, warming themselves with heat and spirits. Sander filled then handed Noah a glass of Pender’s best brandy.

Martindale eyed Noah over his own glass. “How on earth did Miss Wimbley come to land in Northumberland? She has a reputation as a bit of a rabble-rouser in some of the more questionable London areas.”

“Is that so?” Sander said mildly. Dangerously.

Noah’s lips tightened, but he refrained from speaking, seeing as how his uncle had picked up the gist.

Martindale, the daft prick, hadn’t, and went on. “Oh, yes. I believe she’s had a hand in stirring the masses for economic equality for the lower classes.” He snorted. “And women. The idea is preposterous. As if Parliament would ever allow women to run the country.”

“That sounds somewhat blasphemous,” Noah said mildly. “Apparently, you’ve forgotten that Queen Victoria has successfully run the country now for a decade.”

“Bah, that was Melbourne, Peel, and Russell.” He threw out his hand.

Sander frowned. “Her nuptials to Albert in ’40 solidified her position. Don’t you agree?”

“What’s that, Lord Martindale?” Mr. Asher threw in. “Why, Victoria’s support’s been a boon to the country’s progress. Her endorsements to the rail systems will have England lauded as the greatest of technological advancements.”

A notion with which Noah heartily agreed.

Martindale shot Asher a glare. “There have been pamphlets distributed all over London.” His derisive sneer moved about the group. “The last one I read expounded the qualities of education for everyone. For the greater good of England. Absolutely ridiculous. I’ve never been able to prove it was Miss Wimbley, but I’d stake my life on the fact it’s her who’s putting out all that gibberish. When I catch that little harlot—”

Noah’s hand tightened in a fist and he took a step in the marquess’s direction before his uncle spoke up.

“Just a minute there, Lord Martindale. Miss Wimbley is a guest of ours and there’s been no indication of her involvement in any such antics.” Sander’s mildness calmed Noah. “Perhaps considering what women are expected to give,” he added with a thoughtful crease to his forehead, “or how they are expected to conduct themselves warrants a closer look in these matters.”

Noah’s tension may have eased, as Sander had likely intended, and Noah stepped back, flexing his hand. But the tension most assuredly had transferred to Martindale. Noah stifled an eruption of laughter behind a choked cough at the astonishment creasing the scoundrel’s expression.

Asher clapped the marquess on the shoulder. “Best be getting on the road, eh, your lordship?”

Noah waited until Sander returned from seeing their guests to the vestibule and turning them over to Winfield.

“Is it true?” Sander asked him. “About the pamphlets?”

It wasn’t Noah’s place to enlighten his uncle, so he shrugged. “What would it matter?”

Sander speared Noah a contemplative look. As if Noah were as transparent as the brandy he’d finished off. “It matters not to me. In fact, she sounds quite the reformer.”

You’ve no idea .

Noah thought of that bold written essay he’d discovered. Its strong message for women, and men, if he recalled correctly, by women on their right to work, to care for their children. To remember that women were the future of the world because they were the ones who carried the sons and daughters for the future. It was a brilliant, well-articulated, call to action piece of work. How proud he was for his future wife. He would take great pleasure in creating a large, light-filled chamber for her to do her good works in. Whatever she required, he would build it with his own two hands.

Julius entered the library. “Is the bore gone?”

An apt description if Noah had ever heard one. “He is indeed.”

“Docia gave Martindale quite the set down,” Julius said. “Turned Asher on his head too. How is Geneva?”

“I was able to get her away with no incident.” Noah went to the cabinet before his expression exposed that little fabrication. He poured a small measure of brandy for Julius, then, with his composure firmly intact, turned and handed it to him. “The credit with utmost gratitude goes to you and Docia.”

“What do you suppose is triggering those megrims? They seem to strike without warning, don’t they?” Julius took a sip of his brandy.

“I think perhaps it was too soon for her to be up and about,” Noah said. Yet there was a pattern—he just hadn’t quite been able to pin it down.

Sander took up the poker and stirred the fire. “I suspect you couldn’t have kept her away with the entirety of the full British Fleet behind you.”

Noah grinned, a little of the euphoric feeling seeping back through him. Scotland was but miles away. He and Geneva could be married by week’s end.

After a bit, he took himself up to his chamber, forcing himself to steer free of the Blue Suite. God knew, he wouldn’t have the wherewithal to stay out of her bed. She needed her rest and he was determined she would get it. But, oh, how he wanted just one more taste of those delicious lips.