Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed midnight, yet Daniel had not come to bed. Elsa sat propped against a mound of pillows, her plain cotton nightgown a far cry from the delicate lace and ribbon-trimmed garments meant to please a husband.

Signora Conti had made her final rounds, the jingle of her chatelaine fading as she retreated to her quarters in the basement.

Nausea twisted in Elsa’s stomach, the same cramping pain she’d endured on her wedding night. Everything about this moment was familiar. The endless waiting, the candle burning low, the unbearable silence stretching as she lay alone in the marriage bed.

What excuse would Daniel give this time? Had the contents of Mr Carver’s grooming case fed his suspicions? Was the banal romantic verse the final straw?

She’d thought about little else during their visit to Mr Daventry’s office, their last errand of the day. The gentleman asked about her injured arm and advised her to rest. Was that why her husband stayed away ?

Perhaps distrust had caused his desire to wane.

Perhaps life would never be as perfect as the dream.

She settled into bed, hugging the feather pillow, not Daniel’s muscular arm, and breathed deeply to ease her troubled mind.

Many minutes passed before the soft tink on the window broke the stillness. The sound stirred a memory of the first night Daniel lured her from the house to the moonlit garden—his whispers full of promise, his presence stealing her breath.

She pulled back the bedcovers and hurried to the window, her heart racing. A peek through the curtains revealed endless shadows and a cloudy sky.

Then she heard him calling her: “Elsa! Elsa!”

Daniel appeared beneath her window in his shirtsleeves, the fine lawn open at the neck, and beckoned her to join him in the garden.

Excitement fluttered in her belly.

Stronger now than ever before.

She slipped on her wrapper, a practical garment made for comfort rather than style, slid her feet into her slippers and crept downstairs.

He was waiting by the open terrace doors, looking ruggedly handsome. His dark gaze swept over her unbound hair, lingered on her parted lips, then dropped to where her nipples pressed against the cotton, taut in the cool evening air.

“Forgive the delay,” he said, his voice like gravel over silk—commanding, with a trace of gentleness beneath. “I would have asked you to join me sooner, but Signora Conti likes the house in order before she retires for the evening.”

She stared at the deep cleft in his chin, a striking feature she had always found intriguing. “It’s been a while since you threw stones at my window.” And yet the attraction she felt for him was just as profound.

“It’s been too long.”

“You’re my husband. You don’t need to lure me outside anymore. We don’t need to keep our nighttime adventures a secret.”

Emotion pooled in her throat. After their visit to The Raven Hotel, she’d felt the distance between them widening. Most men would have believed the lies. What made him so certain she was loyal?

Daniel stepped forward and offered his hand. “Married couples need adventures more than courting couples do.”

She smiled because he spoke like they had a future. “Will this adventure be more thrilling than the ones we’ve already shared?”

“I want to pursue you, Elsa, to seduce you, to remember why I lured you from your chamber in the dead of night. For you to remind me why you came.”

She placed her hand in his, eager for his attention but keenly aware that she couldn’t let desire make her weak.

“We always start with a stroll in the garden, remembering to keep to the shadows so we won’t be seen.”

“Will you be warm enough?” he said.

“The cold is only a problem when there are no distractions.”

They stepped out into the night and he began as he always did. “You’re sure no one saw you leave the house?”

Thoughts of their last walk at Edenberry brought tears to her eyes. Her heart had been close to bursting, full of impossible dreams—dreams battered like a ship in a storm. And now here they were, trying to salvage something from the wreckage.

“Unless the moon has taken to gossiping, I’m certain everyone is asleep.” She smiled because she sounded like her old self, not the fool found sleeping beside a dead man. “You always said I walked with fairy steps.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“That’s not in the script,” she said.

“As your husband, I’m allowed to improvise.”

“Have you done anything exciting today?” That was always her first question. “Other than trying to save me from the noose?”

“I’ve thought about you.”

“You’re supposed to say you wrestled a bull for a piece of pie.”

“I cannot lie. Nothing beats pressing you against the bedchamber door and ravishing you senseless.”

Her steps faltered. The memory of his hands on her bare skin made her knees weak. “Maybe we should ask the questions we always wanted to, not those that are considered polite.”

Things had changed. This garden lacked the peaceful innocence of their countryside walks. The echoes of distant carriages replaced the sounds of nocturnal creatures. The occasional flicker of candlelight in nearby windows meant they were not entirely alone.

“What would you like to ask me?” he said.

She should start with simple questions before moving to those that weighed on her soul. “The time we sheltered under the oak tree in the rain, was that the first time you’d thought about kissing me? ”

Daniel laughed like the answer was obvious. “The first time I came close to doing it, not the first time it entered my mind.”

She’d spent every waking hour thinking of little else.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

“More than anything.”

What would have happened had the footman and maid not crept out of the house with similar intentions? Luckily, the servants headed for the shelter of the barns, but the interruption had ruined the moment.

“Do you think I would have kissed you as madly as I did today?” he said, an irresistible smirk curling his lips.

“Lord, no! I never knew a kiss could be so enthralling.” It was like he had awakened the part of her soul left dormant in his absence. “If you’d kissed me like that, I’d have lost my mind.”

“Now you know why I left The Grange on our wedding night.”

The sudden stab to her heart was profound. “Let’s not talk about that night. It’s too painful to contemplate.” The memory clung like a shadow that daylight couldn’t banish.

“I’m sorry, Elsa.” His sigh was deep enough to make the heavens tremble. “I didn’t know what else to do. I knew I had to leave but didn’t want you to think you’d done something wrong.”

“I spent months feeling inadequate.” Her throat closed so tightly it was hard to breathe. “The higher the joy, the steeper the fall. That’s what they say.” Happiness had made the pain unbearable.

This was not the romantic night she had envisioned. While the scent of roses and honeysuckle lingered in the air, this conversation soured the beauty .

Daniel stopped walking and faced her, the torment in his eyes unmistakable. “I hurt you. It’s no excuse, but I did it to protect you. Don’t give up on me, Elsa.”

She had come close to leaving him, leaving him forever. But the connection that bound them years ago was impossible to sever.

She placed her palm on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She wanted to crawl under his skin and make her home there. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought your actions were self-serving.”

“You said you’d never stop looking for a way to leave me.”

“When you’re hurt, you’ll say anything to reclaim your power.”

He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her closer and pressing his forehead to hers. “Why did you risk your father’s wrath to meet me in the garden?”

She would have risked the wrath of God Himself just for a minute of this man’s time. “Do you want the truth?”

“That’s what we agreed.”

She swallowed past her nerves. “Perhaps I hoped you’d marry me if we were caught.”

He captured her chin, raising her eyes to his. “That’s not why you risked ruin or walked with me wearing nothing but a nightgown under your pelisse. Do you know what that knowledge does to a man?”

“After our kiss today, I have some idea.”

“Would you like a better idea?”

She nodded. This fierce passion between them chased away the nightmares. It was a truth neither could deny.

He clasped her hand, smoothing it over the solid ridge in his trousers, not once, but back and forth as it grew larger against her palm.

“Out of sight is not out of mind. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined having you, Elsa?”

“How many?”

If our thoughts are aligned, it’s a thousand times.

“Too many to count.” He rocked his hips, pushing himself against her hand, his mouth parting on a sensual hum. “Why did you accept my midnight invitations? Tell me the truth.”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Because the need to feel close to him overrode rational thought. Because she hungered for the soul-deep connection only he could give her. “Why did you want to speak to me alone?”

He smiled, a slow, sinful expression. “While your touch brings me to my knees, with you I find a peace I cannot find elsewhere.”

“What if I had married Lord Denby?”

She recalled her father slamming his fist on the desk, cursing the lord whose temporary loan came at a price.

Daniel glanced at the ominous clouds gathering in the night sky. Theirs was not a journey filled with shooting stars and rainbows. Hopefully, happiness lay beyond the storm.

“You didn’t marry Denby. You married me.”

The heavens opened then, as if urging them to share the kiss they’d been denied for years. A few plump raindrops fell before the sky surrendered and unleashed a torrential downpour.

Daniel grabbed her hand but didn’t haul her back to the house. They ran to the bottom of the garden to shelter beneath the oak tree, laughing together for the first time in years.

Thunder rumbled overhead, but he didn’t care. He was on her in a heartbeat, wiping rain from her cheeks and pressing her back against the solid trunk. “Do you know why I bought this house and not the others I viewed?”

“Because it’s close to Bloomsbury’s intellectual circle?”

“I’m hardly an intellectual.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, his eyes so dark with desire he might devour her at any moment. “I was a fool for leaving you.”

“Because it’s a fashionable residential area?”

“Since when did I care about such things?” He set his hand on her hip, the sensation making her shudder. “I bought the house for this oak tree. Nowhere is home without memories of you.” He brushed his mouth against the shell of her ear. “And do you know what I’m going to do now, Elsa?”

Her pulse soared. “Kiss me like you should have done years ago?”

“Not quite.”

She failed to hide her disappointment. “What then?”

“With your permission, I’ll do what I’ve dreamed of every night I’ve spent alone in bed. I’m going to taste you, savour you, starting with your lips. I’m going to suck your pert nipples and the sweet little nub between your legs, and you’re going to come hard when I do.”

All the air left her lungs. “Here?”

“It has to be here.”

“It does?”

“Imagine we’re at Edenberry, about to kiss. Perhaps we wouldn’t be fighting for our lives if we’d indulged our desires that night.”

What would they have done? Made love beneath the open sky, reckless and uncaring? Ignored the contract, abandoned their homes and duties, and fled to Scotland? It was a fantasy—one that would have left ruin and heartbreak in its wake.

“That time has passed,” she said, threading her arms around his neck, relishing the closeness of his body. “I want to live in this moment. Fate brought us here, to a place where we can have everything without hurting those we love.”

To relive the past was to correct their mistakes. What if they weren’t mistakes but necessary steps on a longer journey?

“I want my husband’s mouth on mine.” She brushed her lips softly across his. “Here. Now. Under an oak tree in Bedford Square. It’s time to make new memories.” In the hope their passion was not a fantasy, but something lasting and true. “Not revise the old ones.”

The rain hammered against the gravel path, but she didn’t hear it. She only heard the rush of her own pulse, the frantic beat of it in her chest when his smile turned sinful and he claimed her lips.

Their last kiss had been a revelation—a wild, frantic assault on her senses. This one was slow, deep, and intense, as if the past didn’t exist or their problems weren’t insurmountable. A husband kissing the wife he cherished.

Rain dripped from the tree’s branches, soft droplets landing on her hair and skin, but she barely noticed. Not when he loved her like this. Like she belonged to him and nothing could tear them apart.

His hands cupped her neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there, and all she could think about was how badly she needed his hands on her breasts, her body, between her legs.

The tempo shifted.

The pulse between them quickened.

The damp fabric of her nightgown clung to her as if the storm outside mirrored the one raging inside her, and before she could catch her breath, everything changed .

She deepened the kiss, need clawing at her insides. His taste, his scent—she craved them with a hunger that bordered on madness. The world could crumble around them and she wouldn’t care.

“I need more,” he growled, his lips searing a path along her jaw and down her neck as he pushed her wrapper from her shoulders. “I need you, Elsa. I need you so badly.”

She gasped as the cool night air gave way to the scorching heat of his mouth on her collarbone. “Don’t stop, Daniel.”

Consumed by him, she threaded her fingers into his hair, urging him lower, where her breasts were so full and heavy they ached.

The reasons for their estrangement vanished when his mouth closed over her nipple and he sucked her through the fabric of her nightgown. Every circle and flick of his tongue, every deep draw on the tight peak, drove her wild. Only he could make her feel like this … so hot and wet and mindless with passion.

It’s you. It’s only you. No one but you.

If she chanted it silently a hundred times, it might be true.

Please let it be true!

I would have spent the night with you at The Raven, bought you cologne, spent every moment of my life loving you.

So much for preaching about new beginnings.

A host of fears plagued her mind.

But then he straightened, his mouth on hers again, and she forgot about the world—the questions, the doubts. Nothing mattered but his hands on her buttocks and the grinding of his manhood against her throbbing centre.

“I want to taste you everywhere,” came his husky growl as he nuzzled her neck. “Tell me your arm doesn’t hurt. Tell me you want to come against my mouth. Tell me, Elsa.”

“I don’t care what you do,” she whispered, the words slipping out on a sultry groan. “Not when it’s like this.” Not when it felt like he loved her, too. Not when he dropped to his knees at her feet and slipped his hands slowly under her nightgown.

The soft brush of his mouth on her thigh stole her sanity.

“Hold up your nightgown. Open your legs.”

Her body had a will of its own. Like a wanton, she stood sheltering beneath the tree in the rain, baring herself, desperate to feel the pleasure he promised.

“Don’t be shy. No one can see you, no one but me,” he reassured her. “Hold on to me. Hook one leg over my shoulder. I won’t let you fall.”

She already had, so far that the only place left was to fall deeper into him. This was dangerous on every level. How was she supposed to guard her heart when he insisted on removing every barrier?

A delectable hum left his lips. “I’ve imagined you like this, pink, wet, and glistening.” He gripped her buttocks, anchoring her to his mouth as he began tonguing her folds. “You smell so good, Elsa.”

Oh, this man!

This man licked the centre of her desire, sucked her swollen nub.

This man made every part of her ache.

“Daniel!”

Lost in the heat of his erotic kiss, she was panting, chasing her breath and the climax that was almost within reach. Her legs started shaking as tension built inside. Then he drove his tongue into her and she came apart with a keen cry.

He was on his feet, sinking his fingers into her sex, pumping slowly, whispering all the things he was going to do when he took her upstairs to bed.

“Mr Dalton? Are you out here?” Signora Conti’s distant call reached their ears. An edge of panic laced her voice. “Sir? I do not wish to disturb you, but the man, he said it is urgent.”

Daniel tore his mouth from hers but kept her pressed against the tree trunk, his long fingers buried inside her. “Tell him to return tomorrow.”

Elsa froze, panting from the rush of pleasure, longing for more.

“There is a problem at the docks,” came Signora Conti’s desperate whisper. “The constable, he must speak to you about the river pirates.”

“Mother of all saints!” he muttered through gritted teeth. He met her gaze, a silent apology in his dark eyes. “I’m so damn hard for you, love. I need to be inside you, filling you, pushing deep.” He mimicked the action with his fingers, the slick sound evidence of her arousal. “Give me three minutes and we’ll continue this upstairs.”

“I suspect you’ll be longer than three minutes.” A constable would only call to report a crime. “Go. I’ll follow in a moment.”

“If this isn’t a matter of life or death, I’ll thrash the blasted constable with a birch. Of all the rotten timing.”

“Perhaps fate is conspiring to keep us apart.” A small part of her was relieved. Ignorance was a sweet mercy. She didn’t want to know what had happened during those missing hours she’d spent unconscious in Mr Carver’s bed .

“Don’t say that. It’s not fate but someone from the East India Company. That, or Denby is out for my blood.”

“It could be connected to the investigation,” she agreed.

“Mr Dalton?” Signora Conti called.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.”

Keen to leave his wife with a lasting memory of their encounter in the garden, Daniel claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss while he pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly.

Pleasure rippled through her. “Daniel! Don’t tease me.”

“This isn’t teasing. It’s a promise.”

“A promise?”

“A promise you’ll be my wife in more than name.”

Wapping Docks

Northern bank of the Thames

If Daniel had a shilling for every time he’d cursed in the past hour, he’d be richer than Midas. He stood on the wharf in the rain, his greatcoat collar turned high, the faint glow from the constables’ lanterns casting eerie shadows across the damp, desolate docks.

“The pirates struck while the men were unloading the cargo,” the constable said, pointing to the shattered crates and the overturned barrel of salt, its contents gleaming like crushed diamonds in the gloom. “They attacked the men first before loading what they could onto the wherry.”

Daniel glanced at the hulking ships anchored along the Thames. No one would notice a passing wherry in the mist, and the pirates had secret hideouts scattered along the riverbanks.

“I trust there were no casualties. ”

“One dock worker has a nasty head wound, another a broken arm, and one was knocked unconscious. The cargo master is busy assessing any financial losses.”

He would share more than a few stern words with the cargo master. Why the hell were they unloading the goods at night? Filing an insurance claim would be pointless. Lloyd’s would use the late hour as proof of negligence.

“Do you know what time the attack took place?”

“Around nine, sir. The ship arrived late. The dock workers were keen to unload the vessel to make room for another ship arriving in the morning.”

It was no excuse.

Daniel wiped the rain from his cheeks, which had trickled from the brim of his beaver hat. “Keep me informed of your progress,” he said tightly. The shareholders would demand answers.

He checked on the injured dock workers, assuring them they’d be paid and their attackers brought to justice. Then he strode into the warehouse in search of the cargo master, Jim Travers.

The rough-looking man, with weathered skin and a permanent scowl, stood amid the salvaged cargo, mumbling under his breath as he tallied the losses by lantern light.

Daniel removed his hat and shook off the rain as he marched toward Travers. “I want a full inventory on my desk by morning. A man with your experience should know better than to unload a ship at dusk.” His temper flared—he’d left his wife panting beneath an oak tree to deal with this nonsense. At this rate, he’d be lucky to make it home before dawn. “Your stupidity has voided any chance of filing a claim.”

Travers blamed the weather, the tides, and the inexperienced dock workers. “A hoist broke, making it hard to manage the load. The rain didn’t help. The wood was slippery.”

He wasn’t sure why he chose to confront the man rather than accept his excuses. Perhaps because, since marrying Elsa, suspicion was his constant companion. Or because he’d faced more than his fair share of misfortune.

Daniel stepped closer, aware his dark features and broad frame made him look devilish in the gloom. “That’s not the whole truth. Is it, Travers?”

Travers frowned. “What are you getting at? You think I broke the hoist myself? Johnson’s a stripling with the strength of a sparrow, and Carpenter’s got one arm in a sling—hardly the lot to pull off a grand scheme.”

“What did the pirates take?”

Travers squinted at his list. “Three barrels of salt, five sacks of wool, two chests of indigo—amongst other things. I’ve not finished the tally.”

“And the silk, the casks of wine and French brandy?”

“All accounted for.”

He stared at the cargo master, pinning him with a sharp, knowing look. “Does that not strike you as odd? Pirates target high-value goods. The kind they can offload quickly.”

The man shifted under the weight of Daniel’s suspicion. “We put up a good fight. That must account for the odd range of items stolen.”

“Or you took a bribe, Travers.” He didn’t wait for him to protest. If he was wrong, he would apologise later. “A bribe from a man who doesn’t care about salt and sacks of wool. A man whose only mission is to make my life a misery.”

Travers paled. “Do you think I’d risk the men’s lives for a handful of coins?” Despite his sharp tone, his eyes darted in their sockets. “You’ve no proof. You’re just looking for someone to blame.”

“Don’t take me for a fool!” Daniel snarled. “I know when a man is hiding something. Be warned. I’m not averse to beating the truth out of you.”

Travers recoiled, his hand trembling as he gripped the pencil. “There’s been other attacks on the river this week. Ask the constable. He’ll tell you.”

Daniel’s mind raced, searching for the one thing he could use to gain a confession.

“Let me make this easy for you. I’ve had people watching the docks for the last month.” It wasn’t a lie, though he’d received no useful information. “Give me the name of the man who arranged the attack. Don’t insult me by saying he’s a river pirate.”

Travers’ voice rose in protest. “I swear, I haven’t taken a bribe!”

“This is a test of your loyalty. I gave the constable the name of the person I think is responsible.”

“I wouldn’t risk my neck for a few sovereigns, not when I have a family to feed. But I agree there’s something odd about all this.” He paused, swallowing hard. “A man approached me yesterday. A gent who owns a shipping company. He offered me work, said he’d pay an extra shilling a day.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“And?”

“I saw his lackey lurking near the winch. I thought nothing of it, but I reckon he tampered with the gears and that’s why the hoist broke.”

“I need the gent’s name and a description.”

Travers scratched beneath his hat. “Thirty or so. Slim build. Dressed like a man who knows the value of a guinea and likes flaunting it. A face that makes women drop their baskets.” He pulled a crumpled calling card from his pocket. “Hair like a bleeding cherub.”

Daniel didn’t need to see the card.

He already knew the devil’s name.

It had to be Mr Charmers.