Curled up on her settee, despair had long since swamped Caroline. Her heaving sobs had ended some time ago, but a trail of tears still ran down her cheeks. She would give anything in the world for her daughter to walk through the door, safe and sound. But the longer she lay there by herself, the worse the fears and images in her mind became.

Simmons had covered her with a quilt and brought her chamomile tea to soothe her nerves, but her nerves couldn’t be soothed. How could they be?

It seemed like such a bad dream that she could not wake from. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her daughter would run off in the dead of night. Had Felicity been right? Should Caroline have given her more freedom? Would that have prevented Rachel from doing something outrageously dangerous? Or had she not been strict enough? Perhaps they shouldn’t have come back to Town. Perhaps they should have stayed in Westmorland at the Park. Or perhaps they should have gone to Dorset to stay with Robert and Lydia for a few months. That would have been a change of scenery from Benton Park, and there wasn’t any sort of danger to be found at Gosling Park.

“Milady,” her butler said from the threshold. “A carriage just stopped out front.”

Caroline bolted from the settee and brushed past the servant, racing to the front foyer. She pulled open the door and a sob of relief escaped her as she spotted Rachel starting up the stoop. Oh, thank God.

She pulled her daughter into her arms and squeezed her tight, so relieved that she looked whole and hale. Marc was paying the driver of a hack, but his gaze landed squarely on Caroline, where she and Rachel stood just inside the threshold. Thank God and thank Marc. She could never repay him for this, not if she tried every day for the rest of her days.

“Mama,” Rachel complained. “You are hurting me.”

Reluctantly, Caroline released her hold on her daughter and took a slight step back. “I should send you to spend the rest of the season with your Uncle Robert.”

“I know a nice convent in France,” Marc suggested, as he started up the stoop toward them. He looked exhausted, more so than she’d ever seen him. And he’d never been more devastatingly handsome in his life. Her hero. Her knight in tarnished armor.

Caroline tugged Rachel into the foyer and held the door open for Marc who followed them inside.

“Where did you go?” she demanded of her daughter as soon as the door shut behind them.

“I was careful, Mama. I just had to see if—”

“You had to run off in the dead of night?” Caroline sounded shrill to her own ears. “Have you lost your mind? You could have been hurt. You could have been killed.”

Rachel heaved a sigh and stepped away from Caroline. “You’ll never understand. And I was careful.”

Caroline turned her attention to Marc. “Where was she?”

“Spotted her in the mews behind Drury Lane. She’s unharmed.”

But she could have been harmed. She could have been taken and abused and never found. She could have been killed, for God’s sake. Caroline shook her head and refocused on her oldest child. “Go to your chambers. And don’t you dare leave there until I say differently.”

Rachel huffed indignantly, but she did start for the staircase.

Caroline closed her eyes as a fresh round of tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Marc.”

He slid his arms around her waist and urged her against his chest. “She’s here. She’s safe.”

“Because of you.” She opened her eyes then and tipped her head back to see him. And his tiredness radiated from him. “I can never thank you enough. I can—”

“Shh,” he whispered and pressed his lips to her brow. “It’s been a long night, Caroline. Climb into bed, get some rest, and I’ll be by sometime in the afternoon.”

He didn’t mean to leave? “Marc.” She grasped his lapels in her hands. “Please don’t go.”

A weary smile settled on his lips. “You’re exhausted, love, and I could hardly perform at my best at the moment anyway. We’ll wait for the stars to realign.”

She certainly was in no mental state for love making, not after the panic and stress of the evening. She was exhausted, and her muscles ached, and she wanted to fall into bed and never leave it. But she didn’t want to relinquish him either. She didn’t want to climb the stairs to her empty bedchambers and stare into the darkness while awful thoughts about what could have been plagued her. She just wanted him beside her, his arms around her, and to revel in the strength of him. “I would sleep much easier if you were with me.”

His weary smile turned a bit wolfish. “You could tempt a saint.”

“You’re not a saint.”

“Not even on my best day,” he agreed with the shake of his head. “Are you sure about this? You’re not worried someone will see something, say something?”

Who would say anything? Rachel was already in her chambers. Only Simmons knew Marc was still there. And Simmons might be the one servant in all the world who could truly be trusted, at least where Marc was concerned. “I want you to stay.”

He kissed her brow once more. “Then lead on, my lady.”

* * *

Without a doubt, it had been the most surreal night of Marc’s life. And that was saying something. He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the back of a chintz chair in the corner of Caroline’s bedchamber. His waistcoat soon followed suit. And then his shirt.

He was tugging one Hessian off when Caroline breezed inside the room, already in a nightrail and wrapper, her dark blonde locks already down about her shoulders. Marc dropped the boot to the rug and started on the next one as he lamented aloud, “I had such plans for that red dress.”

And even though he knew she was emotionally drained, she smiled at him. The most sweetly seductive smile he’d ever seen. “Next time?”

“I’m counting on it.” And the time after that and the time after that. Marc dropped his second boot to the floor and pushed out of her chintz chair.

She pulled back the counterpane and his gaze dropped to her nicely rounded bottom. It wasn’t the red dress, but there was something to be said for her nightrail. He’d never seen her curves on display in such a way before. He could get used to that. And he had a feeling he could get even more accustomed to her in absolutely nothing at all. But not tonight.

“Do you think you need another pillow?” she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder.

Pillows, no pillows. He couldn’t care one way or the other. He was in Caroline Staveley’s bedchamber. And she wanted him to stay the night. How could he possibly care about pillows? “I’ll be fine,” he said, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she stepped away from the bed. “Do you want the right side or the left?”

Marc reached out and captured her waist with his hand and pulled her to him. “I only want you. Just tell me where you want me.”

“Here.” She slid her arms around his back and sighed against his chest as her lithe form pressed against his. “I want you right here.” The silk of her nightrail was so thin, it was almost as though she had nothing on at all. The curve of her breasts, the gentle slope of her belly, the softness of her skin.

And even though he was well past exhaustion, his cock hardened. How could it not? Marc blew out a breath, not that he could do a damned thing about any of his urges tonight. But tomorrow was another matter entirely. “Here? Standing in the middle of your rug all night? You’re hardly the most accommodating hostess, Caroline.”

“Right beside me.” A soft laugh escaped her as she stepped away from him. “You know what I meant.” Then she slid her hand into his and towed him to the side of her four-poster.

She slid beneath the counterpane and moved to the far side of the bed to make room for him. And for a moment, the briefest of moments, Marc just gazed at her. God, he loved that woman. He loved every single thing about her. And the sight of her, lying in bed, waiting for him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to sleep in your trousers?”

He flashed her a grin. “Probably the only way I can make myself behave tonight.” Because it was. Even as tired as he was, he wanted her. And he was certain he could even seduce her with very little effort, but he wouldn’t be in his top form, and she’d been so overwrought with emotion all evening, it would hardly be fair to either of them. Besides when he did make love to her, he wanted to leave her breathless, not wanting.

Marc dropped onto the edge of her four-poster, extinguished the light on her bedside table, bathing them in darkness. Then he rolled onto his side and drew her up against him, her back to his front. He breathed in the soft lilac scent of her and buried his face in her hair. God, he could stay just like this for the rest of his life and never complain.

Caroline’s delicate fingers dance across his forearm that held her tight. “Thank you, Marc, for everything.”

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Marc kissed the side of her head. “I am always your most humble servant.”

“You are not humble,” she laughed softly into the darkness.

What was the point in being humble? Marc grinned against her hair. “Lucky you, tomorrow night I’ll show you why.”

“I can hardly wait,” she said, making him even harder still.

“Me either.”

* * *

Afternoon sun streamed into Caroline’s room, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to wake up, and she didn’t want to the leave the cocoon of Marc’s arms. Heavens, having him with her all night was…well, heavenly. But when she pulled herself from bed, the real world would come crashing back. Had it been a mistake to come to London? What was she going to do with Rachel? And how would Marc escape Staveley House without anyone noticing him? That was going to be particularly tricky.

If she could just stay right where she was, she wouldn’t have to think about any of those things.

“I know you’re awake,” his deep voice rumbled over her, and Caroline’s belly fluttered. She did love his voice.

“Let’s just stay here all day,” she suggested.

His hand moved possessively across her side, settling on her hip, sending frissons of need washing over her. Oh, if he would just touch her a little lower. “While I could be talked into that, I think Emma would miss you,” he said. “She pounded on the door about an hour ago until one of the maids ran her off.”

So the real world was already crashing down around them? Caroline’s eyes fluttered open and she spun in Marc’s arms until she was above him. “They ran her off?” Emma could be most insistent when she was of a mind.

“Mostly there were whispers,” he told her, his light blue gaze holding hers. “But I heard them tell her you went to bed late and to let you sleep.”

Then he lifted his hand to her face and caressed the side of her cheek before tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Better than I have in forever.” She grinned down at him. “I’ve been wondering how I could make you stay with me every night.”

That familiar roguish smile of his tipped his lips. “Well, I’ll have to check my schedule, of course…” He pushed up on his arms and very gently kissed her. It was the softest of kisses and really very tame, but it sent a blazing hot fire coursing through her.

Caroline’s breasts felt swollen and her core pulsed and her nipples tightened against the silk of her nightrail.

Marc groaned against her lips. “There. Cleared my schedule.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. He made her feel so alive, like she was young and adventurous again, like that carefree girl she’d been once upon a time.

Marc dropped back down to the pillow and his stomach growled.

“You’re starving.” What time was it?

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Marc.” She scrambled off him.

“I’ve suffered worse,” he told her and in that moment, she noticed a white sunburst scar near his left shoulder.

Caroline moved back toward him and gently touched the place on his chest. The scar was much more smooth than the skin around it. “This is where Brookfield shot you.”

That night came rushing back into her mind. After weeks with the two of them trying to sort out who was threatening Cordie and blackmailing Clayworth, Marc had locked her in his coach and gone on to Vauxhall to face the villain without her. By the time Lady Astwick had freed Caroline, the two ladies arrived just in time to see the madman aim his pistol at Marc and fire. Heavens! She remembered the sheer terror that had flooded her at the sight. But Marc had fired his weapon a moment later and fortunately had a much better aim than Brookfield.

“He could have killed you,” she whispered, cringing at the memory.

“He didn’t.” Marc grasped her hand and caressed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Better men than him have tried.”

Had they?

What was that long white scar on his right side that vanished beneath his waistband? She hadn’t noticed that the other day. Of course soapy water would camouflage that sort of thing. But goodness, the scar was long. “What is this?” she asked, pulling her hand from his grasp and tracing the line down his side with her finger.

“Rapier outside of Le Havre,” he said, his muscles constricting under her touch.

A rapier outside of La Havre? Was he serious? Caroline’s gaze flashed back to Marc’s face. “What in the world?”

His roguish smile was firmly back in place. “If I thought you’d touch all my scars, I’d have shown them to you a long time ago.”

All of them? “How many do you have?”

He shrugged. “You might find this hard to believe, my dear, but not everyone likes me as well as you do.”

“Oh, I do not find that hard to believe at all.”

And that made him chuckle. “Go on and get dressed,” he said. Then Marc slid out from beneath her and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Go to your daughters. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Caroline gaped at him. “And just how do you expect to leave here without anyone seeing you?”

Marc winked at her. “My dear Caroline, I am a man of many talents.”

And even more secrets, it seemed. Rapier outside Le Havre, indeed.