Page 8 of The Wrath of the Wallflower (Revenge of the Wallflowers)

Sinjin should have known once he and Alice finally had the opportunity to enjoy some time in private conversation the rudely typical March weather would arrive like an overbearing chaperone. Their trip to Kew Gardens had hardly begun when the first drops of rain pelted them and forced them to sprint for Reggie’s borrowed curricle and race back to St. James Square. Not that the rain bothered Alice. She clung to his arm with both hands as he raced his brother’s greys back towards Mayfair. Her bedraggled bonnet did not hide her joyful, laughing face as she threw her head back to allow the icy shower to wash over her.

“This is wonderful,” she cried. “When is the last time we ran in the rain?”

“We were much younger and less likely to catch an ague as I remember. Hold on!” He leaned to one side as the curricle slid across the cobblestones. Alice shrieked, not in fear but in utter exuberance. She’d been so quiet when he’d taken her up at her uncle’s house. Someone had hurt her, and whilst she’d denied it when he asked, if he waited long enough, she would tell him. But now she was marvelously delighted and his heart threatened to leap from his chest at the sight.

“Are we ever too old to run in the rain, Sinjin?” She raised her voice to be heard over the clatter of the horses on the cobblestones and the thunder that rolled above them in ever closer waves. Her face was alight with the spirit he’d known when they were children. He’d seen hints of that spirit in the past few weeks in London, but only now did she seem completely Alice, completely herself.

Lightning coursed across the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder. Alice jumped and scooted closer to him. “We shall be soaked through before we arrive,” she observed. He noticed she was shivering.

“I’m sorry, Alice. This was a very bad idea.” How could he tell her that in spite of the rain and everything else going wrong, to have her sitting next to him, laughing and holding onto him as if she’d never let him go, was quite the finest sensation he’d enjoyed in his life.

“You cannot be serious. This is brilliant! I cannot think of a single thing that might be more exciting than this.”

He slowed the horses as they turned into the mews behind St. James Square. “You won’t think it is so brilliant when you spend the next week or so in bed with your maid and an entire household of servants hovering over you and reporting your every cough and sneeze back to the duke and duchess.” He halted the curricle before the stable doors and Seamus and another of the stableboys rushed out to care for the carriage and horses.

Sinjin helped Alice down and took her by the hand to run to the rear entrance into his conservatory. They were both laughing by the time they dashed into the enveloping warmth of the large glasshouse kept warm by a labyrinth of pipes beneath the floor and two large boilers that only required restoking a few times a day. He had devised the system himself and supervised the construction both here and in his conservatory in Surrey.

“Oh, Sinjin.”

He turned to find Alice gazing at him with a tenderness that felt like a caress. “I had forgotten how much you despise being ill. All of those people gathered around you, taking up the air in the room.” She removed her ruined bonnet and dropped it onto a bench by the doors that led to the mews.

“Old memories,” he said. “Long forgotten. There are some blankets and toweling back here. Let’s get warm and then go in search of food.” He led her past his work table and through the tangle of exotic plants and trees to an area surrounded by large urns of rose bushes. The air was redolent with the heavy mixed perfume of the various species of roses he’d cultivated.

“Old memories, my arse,” Alice said as she spun this way and that along the mosaic path that meandered throughout his glass house. “Oh!” She stopped in the middle of the roses and took a deep breath. “Your roses.” She sighed. “You brought some of your roses with you.”

He went to the old chaise longue where he slept when he was too tired or too involved in his work to manage the climb upstairs to his bedchamber. He grabbed a few of the many blankets folded and stacked at the end of the chaise, courtesy of Danvers and Missus Shaw and Missus Beatty, all of whom were certain he would freeze to death in a room that felt like the tropics at any hour of the day.

“Here.” He wrapped one of the blankets around Alice who had peeled off her wet pelisse and sat in one of the wrought iron chairs to remove her walking boots and stockings. She’d hiked her skirts up to her knees and the sight of her shapely calves and ankles had him struggling to look away. He elected to take a thick piece of toweling to her disheveled hair, the braids and curls falling to her waist.

“I must look a fright.” She wrapped the blanket around her and relaxed into the comfort of his rubbing hands on her hair. “Take the pins out, Sinjin. It is all about to come down anyway.”

“You do realize we are a scandal in the making if we are found like this,” he said as he put the toweling aside and worked to take down her elaborate coiffure.

“Not to worry. I shan’t demand that you marry me. Today is Sunday. Your servants are enjoying their half day either out and about or likely napping in their chambers. We told everyone we were going for a carriage ride.” She shook out her hair and the damp golden cascade fell over her shoulders. Sinjin ran his fingers through the luxurious silk strands before he finally took up the toweling and sought to soak the last of the rain away.

“Then there is the obvious bit.” She spoke so softly he almost missed what she said.

“What obvious bit?”

“You and I are the last people anyone would suspect of untoward behavior. We are beneath their notice until they decide to insult us or make poor jests at our expense.”

His suspicions had been correct. Someone had hurt her. Recently. He shrugged out of his wet jacket and pulled another of the garden chairs around to sit in front of her. She should have looked forlorn in her bare feet and rain-stained dress with a heavy wool blanket wrapped around her like a shroud. She was beautiful, a fresh-faced angel with a gilded veil of hair in every shade of gold framing her face.

“What happened at Gunter’s?” He sat with his hands clasped between his knees and met her eyes with an expression as open and honest as he knew how.

“Dickie?” she sighed.

“Frederick, actually. By way of Lady Camilla, who undoubtedly heard the report from Dickie Jones.”

“Millicent Rutherford and her friends were there, that is all. They were rude to Olivia and me, as usual. No harm done.” She shrugged and reached to untie his limp soggy neckcloth. He waited for her to finish unwinding the long strip of fabric and drop it to the floor.

“A little harm done, I think. You’ve always told me everything. Don’t stop now.”

“She said Uncle Percy hired you to escort me because all the other men in London were afraid of me. She spilled tea on my new blue pelisse. And then Olivia announced to all of Gunter’s that the stains from Earden’s…evacuations had come out of Millicent’s gown, but the piss stains at the back would take longer.”

Sinjin blinked. Alice hiccupped a few times. Then she snorted. He threw back his head and laughed long and hard, and so did she.

“No wonder you and Olivia are such good friends. And as for the other, if your uncle is paying me, he is woefully behind in my wages,” he said with a grin.

“You sir,” she said as she pushed his hair back off his forehead. “Are no gentleman.”

“I would pay any amount of money for the privilege of being your escort. Surely you know that, Alice.” He studied her expression in search of even a hint of her understanding of what he was trying to say.

“How do you do it? How do you ignore the things they say?” She stood and wandered from rose bush to rose bush, drinking in the smell of the blooms. “I try. I truly try, but they still hurt me or worse, enrage me.”

“They don’t mean anything to me. Only a handful of people truly mean anything to me. I hope for the good opinion of those handful of people alone. The rest is simply noise that those other people make to convince themselves they are important.”

“Does my good opinion matter to you?” She looked over her shoulder at him and the blanket slipped to the floor. The light of the flickering lamps throughout the conservatory bathed her in a shimmering glow. Her silhouette shone through the damp fabric of her carriage dress.

“More than anyone else’s in the world.” He rose and went to stand behind her. “Surely you must know that after all these years.” He brushed his knuckles down the side of her face. Slowly she turned and ran her hands up his chest. The words he wanted most to say refused to come. Could he show her that he loved her, had always loved her?

“Sinjin?” Her voice was the softest of whispers. She gazed up at him, her lips parted. With infinite care he lowered his head to touch his lips to hers. He brushed her mouth softly at first. Her kiss was like velvet. She seized his waistcoat and shirt in her fists and pulled him closer. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand pressed to her back and one pressed to her hip. Her arms slid around his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his head in her hands.

Slowly Alice backed towards the chaise longue, and Sinjin followed as he refused to let her go. When she finally sat down, he fell to his knees and deepened the kiss. A flick of his tongue along the seam of her lips granted him leave to plunder her mouth with his tongue. She slid her tongue along his and their mouths mated in a long sensuous draught. When he could no longer breathe, he drew back slowly and rested lips against her cheek.

“What are we doing?” he murmured.

“I was hoping you knew.” She kissed his chin and placed the pads of her fingers inside the open neck of his shirt, resting them over his pounding heart.

He stilled and leaned back enough to look at her carefully. “What do you want to do?” The danger of that question did not escape him. His mind was working by way of instinct alone. His cock, currently hard as stone and pushing to the front of his breeches, likely had a great deal to do with his misfiring brain.

“Alice, I have been trying to tell you something.” He shook his head. “All the letters we’ve written, and now I can’t come up with the words.” He’d never been so woolly-headed in his life. For a man who knew every weed and flower by name when he looked into her crystal blue eyes his mouth went dry and his tongue refused to move. Then Alice was no weed or flower, she was an entire garden. “I can’t—”

“Then show me, Sinjin. Show me what you are trying to say. You asked me what I want.” She took his mouth in a deep soul-burning kiss. “I want everything. With you.”

His blood fired in a rush through his veins. His heart raced and then slowed as if not beating at all. He stood and removed his waistcoat, then pulled his shirt over his head. Alice pressed her palm to the taut hard flesh of his belly. He watched her explore the lines of his hips and the ridges of his ribs with her fingertips. Every memory he had of Alice the girl and Alice the woman kaleidoscoped into the image before him of a golden-haired siren hungry and desirous of him. He lifted her legs onto the chaise and pushed the stack of blankets to the floor.

He would show her the depth of his love. Words had escaped him, but his body wanted nothing more than to speak for him. He reached for the ties at the back of her dress.

Alice was suffused with a heat that had little to do with Sinjin’s perfectly maintained conservatory. He worked to loosen the ties, tapes, and buttons of her dress with such tenderness every brush of his fingers sent rivulets of fire dancing over her skin. Once her dress and stays were loosened, he used his palms to slide them down past her arms, across her belly as she raised her hips to help him rid her of those garments.

She shivered and he chuckled darkly. He took her mouth in a shocking open-mouthed kiss. A delicious heat ran from her mouth directly to her quim in an aching sensation that surprised and intrigued her. Her nipples chafed against the thin fabric of her chemise until he covered them with his hands and began to massage in ever more insistent pulses. Alice moaned and bit her lower lip. When he removed one hand, she gave a little gasp of complaint that turned to a sharp cry when he took her nipple between his teeth and sucked through the muslin.

He stopped at her cry, but she clasped his head and held him in place. Sinjin tugged at the hem of her chemise and worked it up to her breasts. He released her sensitive nipple long enough to whip the last of her clothing over her head and toss it to the floor. This time he returned to her other breast and licked and suckled until she thought the ache and darts of fire would drive her mad. He sat up to gaze at her, his fingers still pinching and caressing and teasing her breasts. He cupped them both in his hands and kissed them each in turn.

“You are exquisite, Alice,” he said softly, his voice rough and rasping. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” She reached up to caress his face. When she ran her fingers across his lips, he drew one into his mouth. Her body took on a life of its own. Her legs moved restlessly back and forth. She tried to sit up to press her naked flesh against his bare chest. He held her to him for a moment and they both shuddered at the erotic pleasure.

He lowered her back to the chaise and began a trail of kisses between her breasts, down to her belly, lower and lower until his mouth touched her quim. She froze in a moment of utter confusion until the first stroke of his tongue between her nether lips. Her hips arched of their own accord. He placed his hands on her thighs and parted them a little to begin an exploring kiss of her cunny that had her gasping and crying out, her hands threatening to shred the blanket beneath her.

“Sinjin,” she cried. “What are you—Oh! Oh! Don’t stop! Don’t!” She fought between trying to move away from the exquisite torture and trying to get closer. The storm still raged outside. Though early afternoon the sky was black with streaks of lightning illuminating the clouds. That was how she felt, like a dark cloudy sky sparked over and over by bolts of fire. Her heart pounded, and she could not catch her breath. Her body seemed to crest as if over an ocean wave. Higher and higher she flew until she screamed, and every nerve seized at once. Tremors continued to roll through her though she sensed Sinjin had suddenly sat up. The warmth of his body and the fire of his kiss between her legs began to fade.

Suddenly he was back, kissing his way up her body in passionate nips and searing presses of his lips that sent shivers coursing through her like the rain coursing over the glass roof of his conservatory. Braced on his hands he held his body over hers, touching in places. He’d removed his breeches and boots. His skin was hot and hard, carved into muscles she’d never realized he possessed. She caressed the powerful lines of his arms and chest.

“Tell me you want this.” His voice was hoarse with an emotion she’d never sensed in him before but she loved the sound. She loved him. And she wanted him as she’d never wanted anyone or anything ever before this moment. She was a virgin, but she was no innocent. Her Uncle Daedalus’s wife, Sinjin’s own sister, wrote some of the most enlightening books on what happened between a man and a woman. Alice wanted those things to happen to her, with Sinjin.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Please, Sinjin. I want you.” She raised her hips and felt the heavy weight of his cock between her legs. He brushed against her, using each brush to wet his cock in the liquid heat he’d coaxed from her body with his wicked tongue. She sensed the blunt tip at her entrance and wrapped her legs around him. They thrust together as one. Gasped as one. After a slight sting and hesitation, her body opened to him and they were joined completely.

“Good?” he breathed.

“Hmmm. Yes.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and clasped his back tightly. He withdrew slowly and slid back inside her in one lingering stroke. She began to thrust against him. They panted in unison as they reached a rhythm all their own. Alice could not get close enough to him, could not get enough as his body carried her onto those waves once more. Their voices met in a mixture of groans and inarticulate cries, faster and harder until she dug her nails into his back, threw back her head and called his name into the storm over their heads. He thrust a few more times and moaned her name as the hot wash of his seed filled her. When he collapsed atop her he tried to roll away, but she held him fast.

He murmured her name over and over and kissed her neck and shoulders until he rested his head on her breasts. She stroked his hair and caressed him. The words she longed to say stayed stuck in her throat. An uncertainty she’d never felt about him before crept into her mind.

“Was that better than Ravenwood’s kiss?” he asked sleepily.

“Worlds better.”

“I should hope so.” He sighed and dragged a blanket from the floor. Between the two of them they managed to spread it over their cooling bodies. “We shall have to go soon. Your uncle will send out the Runners.”

“Not just yet.” She was suddenly desperate to keep him in her arms, to make the moment last as long as possible. “We have time.”

The skies were still dark, but the rain had lessened to a light drizzle by the time Alice dressed and made ready to return home. She’d managed to slip off the chaise and leave Sinjin sleeping. She smiled as she remembered how Danders said Sinjin seldom slept, but when he finally did, he slept like the dead. Her clothes were still damp but dry enough for the ride home. One of the Perritons’ coachmen would be happy to drive her to Berkeley Square in Frederick’s carriage.

She’d found Sinjin’s journal on his work table. For a long number of minutes, she’d stared at the page she needed and debated what to do. In the end, she ripped the page out and stuffed the folded piece into her reticule. If she and Olivia accomplished their plan, he might never know, but if he did…Lightning lit up the sky, and an ominous roll of thunder shook the glass panes of the conservatory.

As quietly as she could, Alice walked back to the circle of rose bushes and stood over the chaise. Sinjin looked like one of those Greek statues of a sleeping hero. She saw him through very different eyes now. He was strong, powerful, loving and far more accomplished as a lover than she’d ever considered. She’d save the questions about where he’d learned all of the delicious things he did to her for another day.

“I love you, Sinjin Perriton,” she said softly. “No matter what I decide to do.”

She was glad of the rain as Frederick’s carriage glided smoothly through the streets between St. James Square and her uncle’s home. For some reason she had begun to weep the moment the coachman pulled out of the mews away from the conservatory and the trusting man she’d left sleeping.