Chapter 26
The world would be a far better place if a woman could put words into a man’s mouth. Heaven knows, I can’t find them on my own. Not if I had a map and a compass.
—Lawrence Sinclair, after a particularly trying evening during which he didn’t screw up his courage to ask her to dance, no, not once!
He deserved torture. He was worse than a cur. He’d made the love of his life cry in the Lovell House parlor and hadn’t offered her comfort.
Of course, he could scarcely be blamed for that because there was no comfort to be had. Nothing had changed. He still couldn’t marry her, drag her off to the back of beyond, and chance making a widow of her in that godforsaken post.
Even so, if he didn’t manage to speak to her alone soon, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t rise from his bed by night and go in search of her. Lawrence knew very well which chamber Mrs. Bythesee had assigned to her. It was located on the family floor, with a bank of windows framing a wide view of the meadow and winding lane. Beyond the woods, the Scottish hills rose in the distance.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Mrs. Bythesee had known how he felt about Caroline. Her chamber was the best Ware had to offer.
Under the cover of night, Lawrence could find her room without a candle to light his way.
Bad form, Sinclair. You claim to love the lady, yet all you think of is how easy it would be to put her in a compromising situation.
He managed to keep himself from wandering to her chamber by night, but sleep, when it finally came for him, was fitful and full of strange dreams.
In his night phantom, mist rose from the lowlands and then slowly parted to reveal a horse and rider. He recognized his dead cousin. Astride the stallion he’d fallen from, Ralph called out to Lawrence, “Come ride with me.”
Then the dream Ralph wheeled his mount around and barreled across the heath, bouncing out of rhythm with his horse, but holding on gamely.
Just as he had in life.
“No! Ralph, stop!” Lawrence yelled after him. Though he’d no hope of catching the stallion, he tried to run after them. The ground beneath his feet turned boggy and his boots stuck fast.
Clammy sickness crawled over his skin. He was helpless. Ralph was going to die and he couldn’t do a thing about it.
Then, to his wonderment, Ralph and his horse easily took the leap that should have killed them both.
“Don’t fear to try, Lawrence. If you do, you’ll miss everything.”
He jerked awake and sat up straight in bed. The dream was so real. From the sound of his cousin’s voice to the freckles that peppered Ralph’s nose, it felt truer than his memory of actual events.
But Ralph’s message to him was all wrong. In life, Ralph had tried the jump and failed. He’d died. He hadn’t grown up, or found someone to love, or assumed his proper station in life. He had tried and, as a result, he’d missed everything.
Or had he?
When Ralph had sailed over the barrier for real, before his disastrous landing, Lawrence remembered how he’d cried out in triumph. He’d never sounded so happy in all his life.
Was that momentary joy worth it? Was an unrealized tomorrow worth more than today?
Or is this day, this moment, this breath all any of us ever really has?
Lawrence churned the vision over and over in his mind.
By the time sunrise glinted on the topmost turret of Ware Hall, Lawrence was up and out and headed for the stables. He told himself he wasn’t looking for Ralph’s shade out on the moor. He wasn’t the type to believe in spirits. He just needed a good hard ride to clear his head.
And then, after a blistering hour or so in the saddle, he was determined to speak his piece to Caroline, whether he could find her alone or not.
When he rounded the first bend in the bridle path that led through the woods, he caught a glimpse of another rider in the early morning mist. An invisible fist squeezed his heart.
Caroline.
She was wearing a deep green riding habit with a jaunty hat tilted on her dark hair. She waved to him and then set off at a gallop in the opposite direction. Even riding side-saddle, she coaxed her mount to a breakneck pace. Lawrence leaned forward in the saddle and gave chase.
When they broke free of the forest and raced over the heath, Lawrence finally caught her. Laughing with pleasure, she reined in her mare. The horse danced under her, still ready to run.
“Well, that was quite wonderful,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes sparkled, and a thin sheen of perspiration glinted on her brow. Her hat had come unpinned and dangled down her back. The slender ribbon tied at her throat was the only reason it hadn’t flown away during their sprint. Her hair, too, had come unbound and framed her face with unruly curls.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and Lawrence wanted her more than his next breath. He dismounted, hurried to her side, and lifted her from the saddle. Her body slid against his all the way down.
She was unbearably soft against his hardness. He didn’t release his hold on her narrow waist even once her feet touched the ground. Her breasts rose and fell in shallow breaths.
She waited for him to speak.
His heart might be full, but his throat was tight. No words came to his lips. Lawrence would give his left arm if, just once, he could be charming and glib like Rowley. That blasted fellow always knew what to say to make a girl feel cherished and special, even if he didn’t love her in the least.
“Come now, Mr. Sinclair, cat got your tongue?” she said softly.
He wanted to speak, to tell her all he felt, all he needed, but no language could express it. Nothing would explain the depth, the height, the sheer, unbridled, writhing mass of his love for her.
Her brow crinkled in a hurt frown. “We’ve had our misunderstandings in the past, but surely we can at least have a civilized conversation.”
“No, we can’t,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “What I want from you is not the least civilized.”
He might not be able to speak his heart, but he could act. So, without warning, he took her mouth.
It wasn’t a tender kiss. He wished it could have been, but he was incapable of tenderness at that moment. He demanded. He took.
She gave.
God be praised!
When he finally released her, she didn’t try to break away from him. Her lips kiss-swollen, she blinked up at him.
“You’ve been saving up.”
“You’ve no idea.”
That made her laugh. He joined her.
“Thank God for your lightness,” he whispered. “You lift the darkness from me.”
He kissed her again, less savagely this time, but only a little less.
Merciful Lord, she’s so sweet.
“I love…you, Caroline.” The words were torn from his throat between kisses. “I love…your heart…your mouth…your hair.”
He fisted a handful of it and pulled as gently as he could, so her head would tip back, baring her neck. He kissed his way down her neck to the lapel of her riding habit and back up.
“Dear God, your scent…”
His tongue dove between her teeth and then hers followed his back into his mouth. He managed to mumble, “I love your tongue.”
“Do you mean you love what I say with it or what I do with it?” she asked when he gave her a second to come up for air.
“Both! I love everything about you, Caroline Lovell.”
She kissed along his jawline, feathery light kisses that set his nerves tingling. Then she leaned back a bit to peer up at him. “Would you love me still if I told you I forged your handwriting and invited us all here?”
“I’d love you even more.”
She laughed again.
Suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure how, they sank down and became all tangled up together there on the lush grass. Her sweet body was under his, but instead of struggling to get away, she was rocking her pelvis slowly against him.
“Marry me, Caroline.”
He needed an answer or he’d run mad, but she couldn’t give him one because he was kissing her again. His hands brushed the front of her bodice. She was so soft. And she smelled like honeysuckle and warm horse and crushed velvet.
“I’ll take a commission under Colonel Boyle and we’ll go to India together. I swear you’ll never want for anything.”
Then he plunged his hand down the front of her habit to cup a breast. So soft, and yet such a hard little tip.
She put her palms on his chest and pushed. He pulled his hand from that blessed place, but his palm still tingled.
“What has changed?” she asked.
He met her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“You left me in London.” Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. “But you meant to ask me to marry you there.”
It must have been her footfalls he’d heard in the hallway when he was confronting his uncle in Lord Frampton’s smoking room. “I won’t ask how you know that.”
She blushed. “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t.”
“Clearly a man cannot keep secrets from you.”
She cupped his cheek. “Again, it’s best if you don’t.”
“Then here’s the truth. I was afraid to try, Caroline. I didn’t ask you to be my wife because a soldier’s life is uncertain. I feared dying in Peshawar. What if I left you there a widow?”
She pushed against his chest again, and this time he rolled off her. She sat up and peered down at him. “So instead you were willing to leave me in London?”
“I thought it best. But now I know I can’t live on what if.” He pulled her down on top of him and she came willingly. “The joy of now is worth any sorrow that may come.”
“But you will try mightily not to bring me sorrow, won’t you?”
“With all my strength,” he promised. “Caroline, if we don’t grab now with both hands, we’ll miss everything.”
“Agreed.” She kissed him slowly, her hair tumbling around them like a dark wave. Then she raised herself back up. “But next time you make a decision that affects both of us, you might try asking my opinion first.”
“So, you think there will be a next time.”
“Plenty of them. I intend to be Mrs. Lawrence Sinclair for a very long time.”
She’ll have me! God be praised! He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them as if they were the crown jewels. “I don’t think I can wait for the banns to be read.”
“Certainly not,” she agreed. “That would take weeks. The ship’s captain can marry us once we board for India.”
Lawrence shook his head. “I can’t wait for the ship either. Gretna Green is only ten miles from here. We can say the words over an anvil and be wed on the spot.”
“Well, that’s not the wedding every girl dreams of.” Caroline smiled wryly. “But then, I’m not every girl. In truth, I didn’t imagine I’d ever marry.”
“And I never dared imagine it, but Caroline, please, if you’ve any mercy in your heart, let us fly north.” Now that she’d accepted him, he had to marry her straightaway, before she changed her mind. “Right now.”
“In a bit, Lawrence.” Her eyes took on a hazy, languid glow as she lay back in the grass. “I’m not feeling particularly merciful at the moment.”
She lifted an arm in invitation.
He lowered himself to cover her body with his. Then, in a flurry of hastily shoved aside clothing, hot kisses, and urgent pleas, everything started to happen.
A button popped here. A hand sought there. The whole world went warm and sweet and dewy. A kind of madness seized him.
But Lawrence clung to a bit of sanity. He was determined for this moment not to descend into mindless rutting. When he finally sank into her, he wanted it to have the rightness of a homecoming, of two halves of a whole finally joined.
With every ounce of will he possessed, he forced himself to roll off her and stand. His breath came in short pants.
“You’re about to become my wife,” he said, his voice far less steady than he’d hoped.
“Exactly.” She sat up, her brow furrowed in frustration. “You can’t imagine I’d allow such liberties otherwise.”
“Of course not. And that’s also why I won’t take you now. We’re so close to the border, so close to being man and wife, I won’t dishonor you by treating you like some milkmaid who’s ready for a roll in the hay.”
She cast him a sly smile and ran the tip of her pink tongue along her bottom lip. “But what if I want a roll in the hay?”
Is she trying to kill me? He started counting backward from one hundred in his mind. In Latin. But he still crowded his trousers so badly, he feared he might disgrace himself.
He held out a hand, praying she’d take it so he could pull her to her feet. “Caroline, once we’re married, I will roll you whenever and wherever you’ll let me, but please God, help me get you safe to Scotland first.”