Page 22 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

Keys of Comfort

Sabina smiled at the Darewood ladies as they graced the Verdon foyer. Not standing on formality, Aria came forward to hug Sabina almost before the Verdon butler, Oakton, could snag her cloak. Sage followed at a decorous pace.

“Happy New Year to you, my dear.”

Sabina took Sage’s hand.

“And to you. Won’t you stay for tea?”

Sage asked. As it was Thursday, her half day, Sabina was dressed for a visit to St. Giles.

“I’ll not disappoint the children again. I’ve been gone a month,”

Sabina explained.

“And Sage remembered,”

Aria said. “There are clothes and sausages and fruits and biscuits in the carriage, which will conduct you to the school. Do forgive our impertinence but there is far too much for you to carry on your own.”

Oh crumbs. Sabina covered her mouth, tears pricking her eyes.

“Now, now, none of that,”

Sage said, taking Sabina’s hand. “I was an orphan too before you took me in. Please let us do this small thing.”

Sabina nodded, and hugged them again. The Darewood ladies turned at the arrival of the Villiers girls and Sabina waved at them all, letting herself out.

“Mrs. Kembrooke!”

Aria called.

Sabina turned at Aria’s hail.

“Should you find yourself with some minutes to spare, perhaps you could write to my brother. Many momentous events have occurred and he has not been himself. His old acquaintance, Oliver, returned Roland’s letters of marque,”

Aria said, coming down the steps with only her shawl over her dress. Oakton hovered behind the threshold, scandalized.

“Is that so?”

Sabina asked carefully, keeping her posture correct. Oh, Roland. What trials have been visited on him now?

“Quite. He and Tristan have been much indisposed these past few days, what with the drinking. I’m certain he would find any correspondence from you most comforting,”

Aria said, taking Sabina’s hand in hers.

With mutual nods, Aria went back into the house and Sabina let herself be helped into the Schofield carriage. As the carriage rolled away from the duke’s house, Sabina opened her hand to look at the key Aria had palmed into Sabina’s grasp.

Comforting indeed. She shouldn’t. The risk was too great, especially in light of how close she was to the full legal recourse to her inheritance.

She truly should not.

****

She was here. Roland blinked to make sure he was not hallucinating. Yes, Sabina was here, in his study, taking off her cloak. He hated that cloak. It was a graceless, ugly thing, obviously a cast-off. He was certain his sister had given her a superior garment for Christmas, because he remembered ordering her to.

Roland did not rise from the chaise. It was the height of bad manners, but first he did not wish to rise, and second, he was not certain he could.

“When did you start drinking?”

Sabina asked, pulling off her gloves. They were the same leather gloves he had given her for Christmas, only the day before. Perhaps two days. Three?

She should have more than one pair of gloves. She should have dozens of gloves, and dresses, and shoes, and warm cloaks, and ribbons for her hair. She should never fear for lack of a roof and food, and she should be loved and cherished and cared for.

“When I turned ten and six,”

Roland said, his eyes never leaving her.

“Tonight. When did you start drinking tonight?”

Sabina clarified, coming toward him. He should stop her. He loved the sway of her hips, the schoolmarm way she corrected him. In the firelight, she glowed like a goddess, and he did not look away.

“Two hours ago. Mayhap yesterday? Did you say tonight?”

“Aria and Sage came for tea this afternoon. She mentioned that you had been in a mood since you saw Oliver yesterday afternoon. I believe that’s when you started drinking. I saw Tristan, by the way. He was asleep on the kitchen table,”

Sabina said.

“We need more brandy in the house. And wine,”

he noted. With the utmost courtesy, he poured her the last of the wine on the table by the chaise. Everything was within arms’ reach so he need not even rise. She preferred dry red, he remembered.

“Then you should tell your housekeeper.”

Sabina sat on the low table in front of him, accepting the proffered glass. He had made no effort to sit upright, and had remained prone on the chaise like the drunken lord he was.

“Sage will know. Don’t have to tell that gel a thing. She will just know, like some damned clairvoyant.”

Roland kept his eyes on Sabina, tracking her every movement. “How are you here?”

“I took a cab,”

Sabina said. She sipped the wine politely, seated as she was on a table cluttered with empty bottles and half-smoked cheroots.

“Sabina,”

he admonished.

“Roland,”

she replied with utmost decorum, as if she were not alone with a bachelor in the dead of night, in his home. “As I said, your sister informed me of your indisposition and gave me the key to the side door.”

“Indiscriminate of her,”

Roland said, watching her set her empty wineglass down. “I can’t imagine her purpose.”

She rose gracefully and removed her fichu, folding it neatly over the back of the chaise. He blinked. Sabina then removed her overskirt and jacket.

“I imagine she thought I could offer some comfort in your obvious state of distress,”

Sabina said, efficiently continuing her undressing efforts. She did not seem to be playing the coquette but he knew she was showing him every move.

“What are we doing, Sabina fair?”

Roland asked, as he tracked the removal of her petticoat and stays with more focus than he thought he possessed at this point in his drunkenness.

“I want you to focus on me and talk to me. This seemed to the most expedient way to gain your attention,”

Sabina said, removing her boots.

“I will speak to you whenever you wish. You needn’t undress for it. I love talking to you,”

he said, and bit his tongue. Some things should not be said aloud. Then she smiled at him, clothed only in her chemise and stockings. Propriety could go on a long holiday.

“Perhaps I want to undress for your attention,”

Sabina said. “Perhaps I’ve missed you.”

She came to him, pulling the pins from her hair, and Roland felt the knot in his chest ease in a way that no amount of spirits could do for him.

Her hair curling freely about her shoulders, Sabina pulled the ruin of his cravat from his neck as she kissed him with more tenderness than he deserved.

“You must leave, Sabina,”

Roland struggled to say. He could do this for her. “I am not in a proper state. You should leave.”

“Or you’ll do what. Hurt me?”

“And more. I feel mean tonight.”

“Oh, I am so scared,”

Sabina teased, then gasped when he shot to his feet. He grasped her shoulders.

“Last chance, Sabina,”

Roland said through gritted teeth. There was a pause, an eternity in which Roland thought he might die if she left, and then she went up on tiptoes to kiss him.

He smelled like unwashed man and spilled gin. She smelled like cleanliness and the cold London night she had traveled through to see him. She was sweet and kind and she cared enough to see him.

Roland wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss so she would know he had missed her too. Then he gathered up her chemise and pulled it over her head.

With a jaunty toss of her head, which threw her hair over one shoulder, Sabina set one knee on the chaise and reached out to him. Roland resisted a moment to look at her.

Even in the firelight, he could see her blush as he caressed her lovely curves. He stroked her bare shoulder with an unsteady hand and helped her lay on her back. Quickly doffing his own clothes with much less grace than she had, he covered her before she could grow cold and buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder.

He would marry her. She would let him, he was sure of it. He would make all her problems go away and they could spend their lives with each other without secret keys and sneaking out of ducal houses.

Roland kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her mouth, and ran his hands all over the length of her. He worked his way down her neck and gently nuzzled her perfect breasts, paying close attention to her dusky nipples.

Her fingers combed through his hair as he licked down her stomach and rubbed his cheek against the soft hair of her mound. Then he kissed and laved the wet head of her slit, reveling in the throaty noises she made as her knees fell open for him. Roland threw her stockinged thighs over his shoulders and gripped her hips to open her up to his work.

Roland glanced up and watched her eyelids grow heavy with delight. He reached up to grasp her hand and she put his fingers on her breast, using his hand to palm the weight of her tit. This woman would not be rushed. He grinned and penetrated her with his tongue, taking her gasping cry of “Yes!”

as an indication he should continue.

Roland hitched up a knee to give himself better purchase as he buried his face into the wet heat of her. Her musky taste reminded him of the ocean and happiness, when it had been only the two of them in a cottage by the sea.

He feasted on the heart of her until she cried out with wonder. Roland could not remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much, and replaced his mouth with his fingers. Catching the rhythm, Sabina rode his fingers to her second crisis and he felt her contract around his fingers.

Roland pulled out his soaking fingers and spread the moisture all over his cock. Lifting his glistening fingers to his mouth, he licked at her essence like a cat. Sabina made an urgent sound.

Gently, he bucked against her core. Sabina gasped at the feel of his arousal against her wet center. Had he been any less focused, Roland would have smiled at her reaction but he was too focused on not losing control. With great deliberation, Roland slid his penis up and down against her slit, coating himself with her juices and stimulating her already heightened senses.

He pleasured her with his cock, tapping her clitoris gently with the head and rubbing the length of himself against her core. When she was writhing beneath him, begging him with her body, Roland gave in.

He pulled back his hips and positioned himself against her entrance. Ruthlessly reining in his lust, Roland watched her face intently as he slowly inserted the head of his cock into her. He grinned at the glazed widening of her pale hazel eyes and gently circled his hips, twisting the head of his cock inside her. She gave the sweetest moan he had ever heard and he was hard-pressed not to shove inside her.

Gritting his teeth, he nudged inside her gently, repeatedly. Sometimes he would withdraw completely to rub his head on her clitoris, wringing needy cries from her. Other times he would turn his cock so it slid along her slit, coating his staff with her juices and wringing desperate cries from her throat.

Finally, when he could hold out no longer, Roland slowly slid his length into her and held still. Sabina was too drenched with need and sweat. She gave a cry of want as he withdrew, reveling in the drag of his cock. He only pulled out as far as the swollen head of his cock and relentlessly thrust again. In and out he moved until he could bury himself to the hilt in her warmth.

****

For a white, endless moment, Sabina knew nothing sheer lustful bliss. Then she heard him grunt and looked up. His face was a mask of pure erotic joy, a joy her body was giving him. She reached up a hand and gently stroked his cheek. His eyes flew open to stare at her. Eyes softening at her tender expression, Roland dropped a lovely kiss on her lips.

They were still in that position for a long moment, like erotic statues trapped in marble. His body was as hard as stone inside of her. She became adjusted to the breadth of him and breathed easily again. Breathing heavily, Roland withdrew and thrust up again. If possible, he grew inside her, lengthening and widening.

Slowly, deliberately, Roland again thrust up into her hot, damp sex. Sabina thrilled in the friction of his body against her, the rub of flesh among the hairs of her mound. Each inch was a little death to her as her body sang with the movement.

“Look at us,”

he grunted. “Sabina, see how beautiful you are, how your body was made to take mine.”

Braced against the pillows, Sabina watched his thick staff enter and retreat from her body. The sight, much less the feel and the noise, aroused her to the point that her breaths came in ragged gasps. Her legs were splayed out wide, her knees bucking at every thrust as if in welcome. And she did welcome him. Sabina’s head fell back against the pillows, the sight of his beautiful body hovering over hers almost too much to bear.

Roland lowered his dark head to taste the curve of her neck, the line of her jaw. He smiled at the way her breasts moved a beat behind his thrusts. The pert nipple nodded gracefully in time with his hips, teasing and waving at him. Bending over, he tongued the areola of her left nipple.

With a hard buck, Roland reared back to watch her as he thrust inside her. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy and her mouth was open as if she could not suck in enough air. Giving into temptation, he lifted her legs and angled her hips so he could stroke her shallowly. He was gratified to hear her pants turn into cries of delight, but he refused to let her crest. Selfishly, he had just wanted to see her from that angle.

Suddenly, her body clenched around him and her back arched. Roland watched in rapt attention as her eyes widened. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders as her mouth opened in surprise. A clear, heartfelt moan issued sweetly from her throat and her glassy eyes closed as the wave took her. Around his cock, her flesh pulsed and pulled him closer. Roland gasped and his hips took over the rhythm. The need to make her his overcame all thought of her comfort.

Before he came, Roland blindly reached for her hands. Sabina’s hands grasped his and their fingers fisted together amid the pillows above Sabina’s head as they came together.

****

“You are my Darendal.”

Sabina cracked open an eye. Her mind slowly working through Roland’s announcement. Her body was still humming with echoing ecstasy and intelligent conversation was not something she wished at the moment. She would much rather return to her state of bliss at his side, letting the heat of his body and the fire keep her warm as winter trudged on outside.

“Roland’s sword from Le Chanson de Roland. I am your sword?”

she finally said.

“The name means ‘that which endures.’ And you, Sabina fair, have endured so much, yet you still stand. You are so strong, so much stronger than me,”

Roland said. “Thank you for coming for me tonight.”

“I think you’re still drunk,”

Sabina said lazily, tucking her toes under his bare calf. The chaise was immensely comfortable. Roland pulled his coat from the back of the chaise over her bare shoulder.

“Yes,”

he agreed solemnly, “but I am a drunk man that you came to comfort tonight. My sister had no business requesting your aid.”

“From what I gathered, you were being a fatheaded ass and she couldn’t pull you from your doldrums alone,”

Sabina said dryly. “I am happy to be of service. Will you please bathe now? I assume there is much work to be done.”

“Oh, yes, did Aria tell you that Oliver returned my ship?”

“No, of course not. That is something I was waiting for you to tell me. Where is Ariadne now? The ship, not your sister.”

“I actually am not certain, on both counts,”

Roland said thoughtfully. Sabina chuckled and gasped when he suddenly sat up. Roland looked at the clock on the mantel, then sprang up. “It is the middle of the night. Come.”

Roland helped her up and began helping her dress.

“What is it?”

Sabina asked, then batted his hands away to dress herself. He put himself together in short order and she let him help her into her jacket. Roland settled her cloak on her shoulders and handed her a handful of hairpins.

“You can do your hair in the cab. It is almost midnight. Hurry,”

Roland urged.

Bemused and intrigued, Sabina allowed her lover to spirit her away into a cab. When Roland ushered her efficiently into a boat, she began to understand his goal. In short order, Roland handed her from the boat onto docks on the south bank of the Thames. In front of her were well-lit steps leading to New Spring Gardens.

The pleasure garden glowed by the light of a hundred torches. Walkways wound every which way, some lit, most not. Throngs of happy folk streamed between the colonnades of the Chinese Pavilion. Well-tamed trees and hedges quartered the pleasure garden in pieces and gave lovers even more opportunities for mischief. In the deep of night, folk were laughing and dancing to the music coming from the Rotunda. She saw acrobats in harlequin print and bare-chested firebreathers and beautiful tightrope walkers and she wanted to see them all.

“So scandalous,”

Sabina breathed as her eyes skipped from pavilion to pavilion.

“On any other night, I would take you down those dark walkways, but I want to give you a different surprise tonight, Sabina fair,”

Roland said.

“Nothing good happens after midnight,”

Sabina chided him playfully.

“It’s London,”

Roland pulled her close. “Everything good happens after midnight.”

Every person was drunk and the crowd was fast, so Sabina had little concern that she would be recognized. Roland seemed to have shaken off the vestiges of his drunkenness as he maneuvered them onto the balustrade of a staircase of all things. She would have liked to have moved at a slower pace to drink in the sights as this was her first time in the pleasure garden, but Roland was a man on a mission.

Then she heard the first crack. She jerked into Roland’s solid body as a whistling sound commenced and then fireworks of blue, green, and red exploded across the sky. Glorious sprays of light festooned across the night sky and the pleasure garden was lit as bright as day.

Sabina had spent the new year in the cloistered sedateness of Verdon House with her charges. She had not realized New Spring Gardens had fireworks on a different schedule and leaned back to drink in the magnificent lights.

The last time she had seen fireworks was as a child. Her parents had taken her to some park in the city and she had eaten so many oliebollen, one after another. She had been happy and safe and loved.

She would be five and twenty in a few weeks. Then she would tell him. And then, when the people she was responsible for were safe, then she would ask to marry him. She would have enough to offer then.

Her cloak had fallen from her face. She reached back for the hood and saw that face, that dreaded face. He was in New Spring Gardens and he was staring straight at her.