Page 38

“I couldn’t,” she managed to say through chattering teeth. “I couldn’t leave you.”

At that moment, the sky opened, pouring down on them in sheets of icy rain, and Rafferty swore, something new and peculiar, and scooped her up in his arms. “We have to get out of this,” he shouted at her over the noise of the downfall. “And then I’m going to beat you.”

She managed a small, weak smile. He did love her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so angry with her. Burying her face against his chest, she held on, safe for the first time in what seemed like days.

She had no sense of where they were, how long he carried her, and when he suddenly ducked in out of the rain, the surroundings were as dark as the night sky.

She felt him lower her to her feet, and she was entirely ready to stand still and be chastised, or even beaten if he really wanted to, but her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor in her ruined gown, feeling the rough wood beneath her.

Rafferty swore, leaving her there, and a moment later, she heard a door slam, and she wondered if he’d abandoned her. It would serve her right, for being such a feckless ninny, but she knew he wouldn’t leave her.

She sank down in a little heap, resting her head on her arms, her loose wet hair all about her.

Her heart was beating too rapidly, her breath was coming in short, quick bursts as she struggled to catch it, and her limbs felt cold, prickly.

She’d seen a man die. She’d almost died herself, and she was in the middle of nowhere with a very angry man.

Not that he would hurt her. But she couldn’t stop the harsh rasp of her breathing.

And then he was suddenly down beside her, pulling her into his arms, across his lap, cradling her as she gasped for breath and trembled, cold and hot at the same time. “Hush, love,” he whispered in her ear, stroking her wet hair away from her face. “Just hush. You’re safe now.”

But she was frozen, unable to calm, unable to speak, unable to do anything but lie there in his arms and tremble, until he cupped her face in his big, strong hands and kissed her eyelids. “You’re safe,” he said again, and her breath lurched into a hiccupping sob.

Men hated it when women cried, and yet she couldn’t help herself.

She let out a wail, and buried her face against his wet shirt, sobbing as he held her, his strong hands stroking her back, calming her as she wept.

“He won’t hurt you anymore,” he murmured against her temple. “He’s dead now—he won’t hurt anyone.”

“I...d...don’t want to cry,” she stammered. “I don’t know why I’m crying so much—I never cry. And I’ve cried so many times recently, ever since you told me you were leaving.”

“I have to leave, Georgie,” he said, holding her close. She could feel his heart beating against her face, and she wanted to press closer, to feel him, skin to skin. “You know I can’t stay.”

“Yes, you can,” she wailed. “You can marry me. They won’t mind—even Andrew Salton didn’t really want me. He’s in love with Norah.”

“Is that why you ran?”

“It was stupid. I didn’t love him. But he lied to me. He pretended he wanted me, when all the time he just wanted to get close to Norah. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You couldn’t hurt me,” she said. “You love me.”

“Georgie...!” he began, and there was no missing the weary impatience in his voice.

“You do. You wouldn’t have come after me if you didn’t. You wouldn’t have killed that man!”

“That man deserved killing for a hundred reasons that have nothing to do with you. And, of course I came after you. I’m your servant—it’s what I do.”

She laughed then, a small, rusty sound. “Does that mean I can tell you what to do?”

He was too smart for her. “No. It means I’ll protect you, even with my life. But I’m not in love with you, and you’re smart enough to know that. You have a crush on me, because you’re a child and I keep getting you out of scrapes. As soon as you find the right man, you’ll forget all about me.”

“You are the right man.”

“Hush,” he said again, leaning back against something and carrying her with it. “Just hush. We’ll wait till the rain stops and then we’ll get you home, and Martina will make a big fuss of you, and by tomorrow you’ll be much more sensible.”

“Tomorrow I’ll still be in love with you.”

“I thought I showed you what kind of man I am last night. It was supposed to scare you off.”

“You did,” she said. “Show me again.”

“Christ,” he muttered, and she felt his lips against her temple, meant to calm, to soothe. “Christ,” he said again, and set his mouth against hers.

It was cold and wet from the rain. It wasn’t hard and punishing, like the night before, it was soft, sweet, tasting her, his tongue running along the seam of her lips.

His hands came up to her face, and he gently levered her mouth open, to deepen the kiss, and she felt the warmth begin to build inside her.

She wanted to kiss him back, but she had no notion how to do it, so she merely let him kiss her, slowly, thoroughly, his heart pounding against hers.

He shouldn’t be doing this. The words ran around in his head, while his body paid no attention.

He was lost in the touch of her, the taste of her, sweet and untutored and so eager to learn.

He wanted to turn her in his arms so that she straddled him, he wanted to reach between her legs and give her a taste of what he could do for her, he wanted to push her down on the filthy floor and fuck her, fuck her till she was out of his brain and his heart and soul.

He pulled back from her, dumping her unceremoniously on the hard floor as he stood and paced several safe feet away from her. He didn’t want to look back at her, but he was no coward, and he turned. She had the brightness of tears in her eyes, and he hated himself all the more.

“Why did you stop?” she asked in a small voice. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

“Another moment and you’d have been flat on your back with your skirts above your waist. I’m not about to take your virginity on a filthy warehouse floor,” he said brutally.

“Then where will you take it?” She sounded damnably hopeful.

“I won’t. When will you learn that I don’t love you, I’m not going to marry you, and I don’t even belong working for you? I’ll be leaving in a matter of days, and I’m leaving you untouched.”

“Too late,” she said in that even voice. “You’ve already touched me.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, it will.”

He wanted to beat his head against a wall, he wanted to roar out his frustration. Instead, he took a deep breath. “You don’t want it,” he said. “Not really. Not if you knew what you were asking.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m asking. I want you.”

The words were like a razor blade to his soul, and he could make no response.

Instead, he walked to the shuttered door, opening it and staring out into the pouring rain.

If it would just stop, he could take her home, put her safely away from him.

As long as they were trapped in the darkness, he was more vulnerable than even his worst enemy could wish.

He heard her move behind him, and he closed his eyes in despair. He wasn’t a good man, not even remotely. He wasn’t a man who ignored pleasure when it was offered to him, he wasn’t noble enough to leave her pure and untouched. He’d already touched her, she said. He wanted to touch her everywhere.

He felt her come up behind him, and he opened his eyes, breathing in her scent—flowers and rain and warm skin. He wanted to drink her in.

“Get away from me, Georgie,” he warned her in a low voice. “If you know what’s good for you, move back.”

“You and I have different opinions as to what’s good for me,” she said, and she didn’t sound like the child he kept wanting her to be. She sounded like a woman, a woman he craved with every breath he took, a woman who was warm and yielding.

Frighten her, his brain said. Take her, his body cried out.

Pushing her up against the wall, he moved his hands up the bodice of her dress, the whalebone corset like a prison around her ribs, and if he had a knife with him he would have cut it, and the dress, off of her.

He covered the swell of her breast his long fingers, and knew it wouldn’t be enough.

The dress was cut low, and he dipped his hand inside, feeling the warm skin, the pebbling nipple, and he needed to put his mouth on her.

It was a simple enough matter to pull the dress down, exposing her to his hungry eyes, his hungry mouth.

She let out a little gasp, but she made no effort to cover herself, she simply stood there, offering herself to him, and he wanted to say no, damned well should say no, but he couldn’t.

Just a taste, he told himself, and he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking at it.

She let out a cry of surprise, and he would have made himself pull away, but her hands reached up and cradled his head, held her to him, and he sucked harder, using his teeth, and her quiet moan of pleasure went straight to his groin.

He’d never heard her moan before, and it lit a flame that burned brighter still inside him. Common sense and even sanity seemed to have left him, and he ran his tongue over her, drinking her in.

He slid his hands down her body, to her ruined skirts, and began to pull them up, exposing her legs to the cold night air, but she didn’t stop him.

Why didn’t she stop him? He was rapidly getting past the point of no return, and he’d do just what he’d promised he’d never do, and take her virginity on the wet dirty floor of this old warehouse.

With a muttered curse, he tried to pull away, but her fingers tightened on him. “No,” she whispered in a rough little voice. “Don’t stop.”