Page 35

That left Cart free to hang back and prowl around the outskirts of the crowd, watching for trouble.

Nothing obvious appeared. The sun was out, and the harbor was deep blue and calm.

Bunting fluttered in the sea breeze, as did bonnet ribbons and skirt hems. Many of the villagers appeared to welcome Chesil’s improvements with smiles and optimistic good cheer, but there was a contingent of dissenters, frowning and muttering darkly in small groups.

That wasn’t the sort of trouble Cart was watching for. He made his way along the perimeter of the event, but he saw no one who looked suspiciously alone, or watchful, or out of place.

Someone did look perfectly comfortable to be at the center of attention, however. Merritt practically glowed in a gown of delicate yellow and white that made her look like a spring flower come to life. She smiled and chatted with everyone, from the mayor to the village carter’s youngest son.

The younger ladies flitted around her, and a great deal of laughter floated in their wake. Chesil, never one to pass up an opportunity, gave a grand speech, then cajoled Merritt into coming up on the dais to cut the ceremonial ribbon.

Cart couldn’t look away. He knew it was his imagination, but he could swear her scent still lingered about him. He could almost feel the satin slide of her skin beneath his fingers. They had shared kisses—that was all. But it had felt like more. Like madness. Like it was not near enough.

She grinned as the ribbon fell away. Someone called from the crowd, and she jested right back, laughing good-naturedly.

Smiling, she let her gaze roll over the assembly—and then she froze, all of her good humor dropping away.

Her color went with it, and she stared, wide-eyed, toward one of the tents erected at the edge of the field by local merchants.

Cart whirled, following the line of her gaze.

There. A tall and slender man stood near the tent where the baker was selling hand pies.

Though a crowd gathered there, they gave him a wide berth.

Perhaps because of the city-slick look of his vest and polka-dotted neckcloth, or perhaps because of the smoke from his cigarillo.

Cart started toward him. The bounder held Merritt’s gaze, watching her with dark appreciation that somehow also conveyed the promise of an inevitable threat.

Not until Cart had pushed through the crowd and come within twenty feet of him did the stranger break contact with her and toss a lazy smile in his direction.

With a shrug, he slid around the corner of the tent.

Cart chased after him. He caught a flicker of movement as the man darted past Mrs. Langdon’s stall, where she dispensed ale and lemonade.

Damn . Allard’s man was heading back into the crowd.

Cart burst out after him and skidded to a halt.

He cast his eye from one side of the gathering to the other but caught no sign of the man.

He made his way along the edge of the crowd, asking if anyone had seen the man go through, but no one seemed to have noticed him.

Damn it .

Cart’s first thought was to check for Merritt, but he couldn’t spot her. His second thought was to head to Cliffstone to warn Linwood, but he definitely didn’t want to lead Allard’s man there.

Damn it all to hell .

“Your Grace?”

He turned to find Merritt’s sister wringing her hands behind him. “Lady Julia?”

“I was wondering, would you mind coming to have a word with my sister?”

Alarm spiked. “Of course. Lead the way. Is she all right?”

“Something has upset her.” The girl shot him a glance. “But she always seems brighter after she speaks to you.”

Damn if this schoolgirl hadn’t put him to the blush.

He followed her to a spot behind the dais, where all the young ladies hovered around Merritt. She sat in a chair with a glass of lemonade in hand. “I’m fine,” she was insisting.

“Lady Merritt.” The girls parted as he approached. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, no,” she said weakly. “It was just too much sun. I’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps you should return home and lie down? I’m sure the young ladies will see you set to rights.”

Said young ladies looked disappointed.

Lady Julia stepped forward. “Of course we will.”

Cart looked around, weighing it all out in his mind. Allard’s man appeared to have fled. Where would he have gone? Perhaps back to Breakwater, to have a look around while he knew Cart was occupied? But that look he’d given Merritt… Could the man suspect she was involved?

Cart cursed silently. Merritt felt poorly, and he didn’t dare leave her here or take her home—what if he guessed wrong? Fine, then. He would keep her with him.

“Well, now,” he began. “There’s no reason for you girls to miss the fun. There is to be music soon, I understand. There might even be dancing.”

A waft of excitement went through them.

“Lady Merritt, if you will allow me to escort you home, I’m sure the colonel will take responsibility for the young ladies.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Havers can help. Thank you.”

The girls quietly cheered.

Cart knelt before Merritt. “Shall I commandeer the colonel’s carriage? Or would you care to walk?”

“Let’s walk, please,” she said gratefully.

Cart sought out the colonel and had a whispered word with him.

“I brought a footman, who is likely out throwing dice with the carriage drivers. I’ll have him come and help me herd the young ladies. I doubt he’ll object.” The old man laughed. “They are a lively, fine-looking group, eh?”

“If only you were twenty years younger,” Cart said with a smile.

“Forty, more like.” The colonel gripped his arm. “Go, then, and be careful. Don’t let anything happen to that charming young widow.”

“I won’t,” Cart vowed. He went to fetch Merritt, and they joined the traffic moving to and from the village on the coastal path along the cliffs.

She held silent, and he didn’t push her. There were too many people about. But he did draw her down the trail to the shore. “We can walk this way and be more private,” he told her.

Agreeing, she followed him down to the sandy beach at the bottom of the cliffs. Pausing, she heaved a sigh as she removed her bonnet and took in the empty stretch of shore and the pounding surf. “How lovely it is.”

“Yes. It is.” But he was watching the wind toss dark curls about her face. They set out. “The tide is moving in, but we can get you home in plenty of time. It’s all sand and easy walking until the rock shelf starts just before Cliffstone.”

Nodding, she walked on, taking his arm again while he debated bringing up any of the troublesome topics that lurked between them.

After a few minutes, she made the choice for him.

“It was an overreaction,” she said. “I know it was. But…sometimes it strikes me that way.”

He held his silence.

“Sometimes it is a sharp tone. A raised voice. Or the moment someone catches me unaware. Today it was the look he gave me.”

He felt the shudder move through her.

“That man looked as if he knew something about me, something he would hold over me. Hold me accountable for. Punish me for. And for a moment, I was back—back in hell.”

“When I find him, I will wring his neck,” Cart said harshly. “And if Beving weren’t dead, I’d kill him myself.”

“He is dead,” she said with a certain stark satisfaction. “And I am alive.” Releasing his arm, she walked toward the surf and flung her head back before she plopped down to quickly unbutton her half-boots.

Heat surged through him when she lifted her skirts high enough to expose slim, lovely calves.

High enough for her to reach up and roll down her stockings.

She stuffed them into the boots, then stood and ran straight into the water’s edge.

“I’m alive,” she cried. “And the sun is on my face, the wind is in my hair, and my toes are in the sand.” Turning, she walked toward him, a challenge in her eyes.

“I’m alive, and I’m here with a man. A great, handsome man with shoulders for miles and shadows behind his eyes.

” She stopped before him, staring up at him with that brilliant, dark gaze.

“A man who looks after me,” she said softly.

Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, gave him a hot, lingering kiss, then broke away with a laugh and ran off, shooting a mocking invitation over her shoulder.

He accepted it. Laughing, he chased her as she darted this way and that. He lunged playfully and missed purposely—until she turned and leapt at him.

He caught her and enfolded her in his arms, right where she belonged. Want roared through his veins, scorching away worry and doubt. She was light, life, and happiness, love and lust. She was his, and he was hers.

She moved wildly in his embrace, holding nothing back, and demanding the same of him.

He gave it, kissing her madly, letting hungry hands move over her curves, yanking her skirts up so he could lift her.

He pulled her legs to straddle his waist so he could walk her back into a rocky grotto at the base of the cliff.

She laughed breathlessly as he set her down and pressed her back into the granite. His hands set about untying, unfastening, until her breasts were free and his mouth and hands were on them, teasing, tasting, paying homage.

Her head went back. She gave a moan, and another. He straightened, kissing her again while he rucked her skirts high.

She stilled—and he paused at once, looking into her worried face.

“I don’t know…” Her words trailed away.

He let go of her skirts and gathered her into his arms. “Of course. I’m sorry. We were carried away. This isn’t—”

“No.” She stopped him. Cupped his face. “I don’t know how .” She closed her eyes.

He frowned. “Surely—”

She shook her head. “My husband never wanted this. He only enjoyed my worry. My fear. My pain.”

“Stupid, vile fool,” he cursed.

“Belmont.” She flushed. “Will you? I want you to show me.”

He searched her face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please. Now. Here.”

He pulled her close again. “Yes. You need to know. Everything you do, all the joy you bring to others. You were made for pleasure.”

Her eyes widened.

He grinned as he leaned in to kiss her. “I’ll show you.”

He had argued countless cases, fought for many causes, but this was the most important of his life.

He attacked it with the same precision he’d always used, rallying everything he’d ever learned, seen, or heard.

He entered into a seductive assault, using whispers, lips, and trailing touches to set her aflame.

Temples, ears, lips, nipples—he worshiped them all, relishing every gasp and moan, judging when she’d become a loose-limbed, hungry puddle of desire. Then he took off his coat, spread it across a waist-high boulder, and sat her upon it.

“Lean back,” he whispered against her mouth. “Spread your legs.”

She looked shocked, more than a little excited—and she did as he asked.

He knelt before her and looked up. “You are beautiful.” He set to work, teasing her soft thighs with kisses, then setting his mouth on her. Exploring her with his tongue, with his fingers, stroking her wet folds and the hard nub of her desire.

She leaned back on her elbows and writhed beneath him. “Belmont,” she gasped. “What are you doing to me?”

“Setting you free,” he said, before putting his fingers and tongue to work together.

Her breathing grew harsh, her face and body taut and luminous. Tenderly, but steadily, he pressed on—and at last he saw it, felt the pleasure ripple through her. She trembled, pulsed, and cried out, but he pushed her relentlessly further, higher, until she reached the glorious end.

He gathered her into his arms then, and held her while she lay spent and shaken.

At last, she heaved a sigh and looked up at him. “That was not what I expected.”

He kissed her. “What were you expecting, then?”

“Less? More.”

“Oh, there is more,” he promised.

“I want it all. With you.”

The simple words shattered his heart. He knew, for the first time since he’d opened that blasted letter, that everything would be fine. He would live. Grow. Change. Adapt to this new life. With her.

“We will have it all.” It was a vow. “We will grab it, claim it, explore it all—together.” He kissed her forehead. “But first, we have the small matter of a spy to reconcile.”

Blinking, she sat up. “Yes, of course. We should check on Linwood first, then perhaps on your home?” She stood and shook out her skirts, then gave a little laugh. “Oh! My boots! My stockings and bonnet.”

“I’ll go and fetch them.” He kissed her nose and her lips, tenderly. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran to rescue her things, scooping them up just before the creeping tide could take them. Triumphant, he raced back, heading into the little grotto—to find Merritt gone.