The water was cool against her hot skin, the feeling of weightlessness that came with the sensation of floating soothing and calming.
Unable to sleep, Elise had stolen out of the house and down to the trees, seeking space from the man who slept only a wall away from her. She’d emerged on the bank and had been unable to resist the silver water that beckoned in the heat of the night. She’d slipped into the water, rolling onto her back, and gazed up at the blanket of stars overhead. The sounds of the world were silenced under the water, and Elise embraced that quiet, using the hush to calm her racing mind and set her thoughts in order.
She would return to London without him.
The disappointment cut deep, deeper than she would ever admit. She had believed that Noah would do for his mother what the duchess had refused to do for her son. And Elise had believed that if she could only make Noah realize that he wasn’t alone, he might be able to overcome the unfathomable pain and hurt of abandonment. They had both failed.
But if Elise put herself in Noah’s shoes and peered into the dark recesses of her own conscience, she couldn’t say with any confidence that she would have reacted any differently from the way he had. Elise might know what he had endured, but she hadn’t lived it. She hadn’t been the child consigned to a fate worse than hell by the two people that same child had trusted to keep him safe and protected. It made her want to cry.
But crying solved nothing. So now it was time to move on from failure and seek out other options.
She would, of course, insist that Noah disappear for awhile—perhaps now would be the perfect time to travel the Continent. Bavaria was pretty this time of the year, she’d heard. She could certainly provide him with connections. Once he was on his way, she would tell King that she had located Noah Ellery and that he had declined her offer of help beyond what would get him safely away from England for the time being. Though King was a suspicious bastard and would likely demand some proof of Noah’s safety. She’d have to put some thought into what she might provide that would convince him she spoke the truth.
And then there was the loose end that was the urchin named Joshua, who had suffered alongside and escaped with Noah from Bedlam, though it was likely that Joshua was dead. Boys on the streets of London rarely survived to adulthood, no matter how capable they might be. If they didn’t succumb to starvation or disease, violence or vice, they might find themselves the victims of a press-gang, or thief takers. Boys like that tended to disappear.
Though she certainly wouldn’t give any further thought to the inevitable disappearance of one Francis Ellery. She just hoped that King had the foresight to make sure his body was found. The last thing the dukedom needed was another missing heir tying up the succession. There would be others crawling out of the woodwork in line for the title, and she was confident any one of them would be better than the current conniving contender.
The removal of Francis Ellery would likely solve the problem of the duchess as well. A part of whatever money Ellery had managed to beg or borrow was still being used to keep his aunt in chains. Without that money or the promise of more, it would likely be a great deal easier to arrange the extraction of the Duchess of Ashland.
Perhaps this was best for everyone. Perhaps Elise should have suggested this a long time ago. It certainly had its advantages, the least being that it would work in the absence of the true heir to the dukedom of Ashland. Which was fine, if not wholly unsatisfying.
So unsatisfying, in fact, that it was everything Elise could do not to scream in frustration. Despite everything, she wanted Noah to polish his damn armor, get on his damn white horse, and skewer Francis Ellery with the point of his damn lance. She wanted him to lay claim to a title and a fortune that would flourish under his command and his valor and his principles. Because he was capable. And incredible. And—
A stream of water blasted up her nose as her head was jerked roughly below the surface. A steel vise closed around her wrists and dragged her down. Her eyes flew open even as she instinctively fought free, her mind registering the feel of fingers pressing painfully into her skin.
Elise twisted and jerked, but her assailant’s grip didn’t loosen. Fear surged, along with the immediate instinct to fight. She brought her legs up and kicked out, and her foot caught an exposed midriff with a satisfying force. The fingers around her wrist loosened, and she yanked herself free, stroking powerfully away from her attacker.
She surfaced, coughing, and tried desperately to identify where the next attack would come from. She wondered if there were two of them in the water. Or if one assassin had swum out and the other yet waited on shore. But all she could see was the shape of a dark head above the water, thrashing arms and legs causing the moon’s reflection on the surface of the river to fragment. She trod water where she was, her eyes scanning the shore. Where was his partner?
In hindsight she’d been unforgivably stupid, leaving herself so exposed. But she’d been lulled by the absence of any sign of human activity and the added company of Square. She’d relied on the knowledge that the dog would detect another presence long before her senses would. Though the beast had failed on a grand scale in that regard. The damn thing hadn’t even barked.
Her eyes came to rest on the dog, sitting on the bank, watching the spectacle, his head cocked, his tail wagging happily.
She stared in disbelief. She had been accosted by at least one intruder, and all the dog was doing was watching? And wagging his tail? Not that she expected defensive devotion, but a response of some sort would have been nice. How had her attacker gotten down the bank and into the water without the dog at least getting up to investigate?
Unless Square knew the attacker.
Her eyes snapped to the thrashing form in the water between her and the bank. She heard a vicious curse.
A gurgle of laughter escaped, relief making her giddy.
She could see Noah kicking frantically, trying to keep his head above water as he vainly fought his way back to shore. Her would-be attacker had apparently been her would-be rescuer. She could only imagine what she had looked like floating there in the moonlight, her eyes closed, her body relaxed.
He had thought she had drowned. And he had jumped in to save her, though it was becoming vastly apparent he couldn’t swim. Whatever had he been thinking?
She quickly swam over to Noah, careful to keep a distance between herself and the struggling man. “Take a deep breath and stop your thrashing,” she commanded.
He jerked in surprise but did as he was told.
“And don’t touch me.” She slipped an arm around his neck, much as she had done with Andrew Barr, and pulled him slowly toward the shallows. She could feel every muscle in his body tense, either in fear or in rage. She very much doubted it was the former.
Her feet touched the soft ground, but she did not let go, nor did she give any indication that she had found her footing. Noah was still facing out toward the center of the river.
“What were you thinking? You should never have jumped into the water when you don’t know how to swim,” Elise chided.
She felt him twitch. “What was I thinking?” His voice rose and bounced across the water. “I wasn’t thinking anything. I was trying to save you,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? I thought you were dead.”
Remorse warred with annoyance. “If you had taken but a moment to think about it, you would have remembered that dead people sink. They don’t float.” She paused. “At least not for a few days.”
“If that is an attempt to be funny, Miss DeVries, you may be assured I am not laughing.”
Elise scowled. “You need to learn how to swim. The only one in danger of dying tonight was you. You would have ended up at the bottom if it hadn’t been for me.”
“It was because of you that I nearly went straight to the bottom!” he snarled.
“You can stand up now,” Elise said abruptly, and released her hold on him.
Noah spluttered and lunged to his feet, turning to glare at her.
She swam out of his reach judiciously. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I wasn’t scared,” he snapped.
“Of course.”
He glared at her some more before he turned and waded closer to the bank, wiping water from his face.
“How the hell do you not know how to swim?” Elise asked, taking a chance and treading a little closer. “Surely you had ponds and such on whatever country piles your family owned? Surely some idiotic friend dared you to jump in at some point. That sort of stupidity is like a bloody rite of passage for every boy on earth.”
Noah made a rude noise. “And how would you know that?”
“I had two brothers, in case you’ve forgotten. I was five when Jonathon dared me.”
“I never went near the water as a child.”
“Never?”
“Are you deaf, Miss DeVries?”
“Just surprised.”
“As I got older, I was kept out of sight and away from anyone who might notice that the Duke of Ashland’s son was defective. There were no friends to dare me to do anything.” He said it with a harsh twist to his mouth.
Elise’s heart hurt for the little boy who had been left alone to watch the world go by without him. Her heart broke for the child who had deserved none of the anguish and sorrow he’d suffered. She stroked closer to shore and stood, putting her hands on her hips.
“I dare you,” she said.
“What?”
“I dare you to jump in.”
“Don’t be asinine.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do it. I dare you.”
Noah threw his hands in the air. “I’m going back to the house.”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing. I’m going back to bed like a normal person.” He started up the bank.
“What happens the next time a child like Andrew Barr falls in the river? Or a lake? Or a pond? What happens when someone needs help and you can’t give it to them, because on this night you refused to take a chance? Will you stand by and watch?”
She had done it on purpose, appealed to his protective nature. Appealed to his sense of gallantry and kindness, and she was not disappointed.
He stopped and turned. “I’ll sink straight to the bottom.”
Elise could see the planes of his face, stark in the moonlight. Drops of water still slid down his chest, tiny diamonds that fell and vanished with each breath. “No, you won’t. I’ll be with you.”
He stood in silence, and Elise let that silence stretch, unwilling to break the fragile possibility that was slowly unfurling. “You can’t teach me how to swim in five minutes,” he said finally.
“No. That takes some time. And practice. After tonight you won’t be able to cross the Channel, but I can at least teach you how to float.”
“I can float,” he scoffed.
“Mmmm.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Not at all.”
“I can.”
“Then prove it, Sir Noah. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Elise tucked her hands into her armpits and wiggled her elbows, clucking as she did so.
“Did you just call me a chicken?” His mouth had fallen open.
She dropped her hands and smirked. “If the feather fits, Sir Noah…”
He made an incredulous face. “You’re acting like you’re twelve years old.”
“I was aiming for about nine.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re stalling.”
He raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Fine. I float for a minute and then we will get out of the water and return directly to the house. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.” She gave him a winning smile. “Now let’s see you float.”
Noah frowned, but waded back into the water. He stopped when he had gotten chest deep. He took a deep breath and kicked his legs out in front of him. His entire body disappeared from view.
Elise was laughing as he pushed himself to the surface again, coughing and spluttering. “Well done, Sir Noah, well done.” She moved toward him. “You float like a rock.”
“I wasn’t ready that time,” he bit out defensively.
“Well, by all means, please do not let me stop you.” She was standing next to him now.
He scowled fiercely at her, but took another deep breath. This time as he kicked his legs out, Elise stepped forward and placed one arm beneath his lower back. Noah immediately tried to jerk his head up, but she pushed his forehead back with her free hand.
“Look up at the moon,” she told him. “And for pity’s sake, relax.”
He did as he was told, though she could still feel stiffness coiled through his body. She took her hand from his head and pried his arms away from his sides so that they were spread on the surface. She moved slowly down the length of his body, keeping one hand always at his back. She ran a hand down underneath his thigh and pulled his legs up so that they too were on the surface of the water.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed. “And breathe deeply.”
“What are you doing—” Noah started, but she shushed him.
“Trust me,” she said.
His eyes searched her face. After a moment he closed them.
Elise smiled as she studied him in the pale wash of light. This was how she wanted always to remember him. Like this, the lines of worry erased from his face, his strong features a portrait of peace and what seemed a little like wonder. The water lapped gently at his sides and chest as she supported his back, and the tension and stiffness that had been so evident earlier were gone. She was supporting him, and he was letting her.
He had finally allowed himself to trust her.
For just a few stolen moments, she allowed herself the indulgence of feeling the rightness that engulfed her. For this moment he was hers, and she would give anything to keep him with her forever. But nothing was forever, and no matter what happened, a day from now, a week from now, years from now, she could not keep this duke for herself. With a bittersweet smile, she gently removed her hands from his back to let him float free on his own.
She saw his fingers curl, but he stayed buoyant on the water’s surface. Elise slowly moved away from him, toward the shore. She climbed up on the grassy ledge, donned her abandoned trousers, and sat on the bank, water sluicing down her back from her hair. She was not sure how much time passed before Noah’s feet found the riverbed once more, and he waded out of the water toward her. She was struck by the sheer beauty of him, made more intense by the absence of a frown. He lowered himself down on one side of her, both of them gazing out at the water in silence.
Elise shivered slightly, and Noah put a hand around her and pulled her closer to him. His fingers slid over the bare skin of her back where the loosened laces of her shirt had pulled the neck wide enough to expose her shoulder. His touch came to an abrupt halt just above her shoulder blade.
“Elise?” His fingers moved again, exploring the ruined skin at her back and the ridges of scar tissue that had never healed cleanly.
He would not have seen the old wound earlier, as it had always been covered by clothes. She forgot about the injury most days, though sometimes in the damp chill of the winter her shoulder ached.
He leaned back, pulling her shirt farther over her shoulder and down her back, and she heard his swift intake of breath.
“You can blame my brother Alex.” She sighed, putting a hand on the warmth of Noah’s thigh. “It’s just as well he’s good with money and numbers and such. He makes a ghastly surgeon.”
His fingers were tracing the worst of the scar, and she could imagine him trying to determine exactly what sort of injury made such a mark. “You were shot.” It was exhaled on a horrified breath.
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Elise. When?”
“When I wasn’t as invisible as I thought myself to be.”
“What?”
Elise sighed. “American pickets have keen eyes and good aim. Or maybe just mediocre aim. They didn’t kill me, after all, though the wound almost did.”
“And your brother was there? He couldn’t get you to a proper surgeon?” There was an edge to Noah’s voice, as though he blamed Alex for what had been her failure.
Elise frowned. “It took Alex three days to find me. When the men who shot me discovered I wasn’t dead, they bound my hands and feet and carried me back to the vicinity of their camp. They left me there, tied upright to a pine for the better part of the day.” She stopped. “That feeling of helplessness was worse than any pain.”
Noah’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She didn’t need him to say anything because he, of all people, understood that better than anyone.
“By the second day, infection had set in, though I have vague recollections of them pouring water down my throat and demanding answers to questions I could no longer comprehend. On the third day, they gave up and left me for dead. I am told Alex found me that night. Took the bullet out of my shoulder with his knife by the light of a single candle, too afraid to build a fire in case we were discovered. He laid me in a stream and sat with me for the next two days, trying to cool a fever that I can’t remember.” She stopped suddenly, realizing she had probably said more than was necessary, but unwilling to let Alex be cast in a poor light. “So no, my brother couldn’t get me to a proper surgeon. He was two miles behind enemy lines and nine miles from a proper surgeon with nothing but a knife, a rifle, and a dying sister.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? I survived because of Alex. He came for me when I had already been crossed off the lists as missing and presumed dead. He came for me when I needed him most. And then he did what he had to.”
Noah was silent, his hands quiet on her skin. The moonlight blinked out and plunged them into darkness as clouds rolled and built.
“Then I am in his debt,” Noah said finally.
Elise turned, wishing she could see his face. “You? He saved my life, not yours.”
“No. I think he saved mine as well. Because he gifted me with you.”
“Perhaps you might wish to thank him in person,” Elise suggested softly.
“I believe I shall.” Noah found her hand in the darkness and threaded his fingers through hers. “But first I will see Abigail. Because it’s been too long since I did so. Because sometimes sisters need their brothers.”
Elise froze and tightened her fingers around his. Moonlight flooded down around them again, flickering once before steadying. “They do,” she agreed, almost afraid to breathe.
“It took too long for me to understand that.” It was barely audible. “And for that, I am truly sorry.”
“I think Abigail will forgive you,” Elise whispered, her throat thickening.
“I hope so. Will you?”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
“But—”
She pressed her free hand against his lips. “I do not wish to fight with you, Sir Noah.”
Noah gazed at her for a long moment before releasing her fingers and pushing himself to his feet. He held out a hand to her. “Neither do I.”
Elise put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up, and she was struck that it was this gesture, this extension of a strong hand on a grassy riverbank, that had first stolen her heart. They stood on the bank, neither speaking, as if terrified they might shatter the eerie spell that seemed to have been cast at the river’s edge.
The air began to move suddenly, the sultry heat being touched by the first stirrings of a cool breeze that was gaining momentum and rattling the leaves. The moonlight vanished again before reappearing as more clouds drifted past. In the distance Elise could see brief flashes of light. A low rumble reached her ears.
“We should hurry,” Noah whispered.
Elise nodded wordlessly and allowed herself to be guided through the trees and across the fields toward the house. The heat from Noah’s broad palm was creeping up through her arm and warming her entire body, though the temperature outside was dropping rapidly.
The first raindrops fell just as they hurried into the yard, Square making a beeline up the narrow lane for the shelter of the barn, and Elise and Noah slamming the door of the house behind them as the wind suddenly gusted.
The house had descended into utter blackness, making it almost impossible to see him. She could only feel him, his heat, his touch. She concentrated on taking steady breaths, desire making her ache everywhere. Nothing that she hadn’t felt the last time they had stood before each other, their clothes wet and dripping, her hand caught in his.
But this need was different. Something had changed. Something harder, hotter, more desperate than ever before had settled within her, demanding release.
A flash of lightning illuminated everything for a brief second before thunder rolled. It would seem the gods of the sky were as restless as she.
“You would have beaten me, you know,” Noah said quietly.
“I beg your pardon?” She tried to see his face but it was impossible.
“If I had tried to best you on that shooting field, you would have beaten me.”
“What are you talking about?” She was momentarily distracted. “Why is that important?”
“I’ve never met a woman with your confidence.”
Elise smiled faintly. “I think you called it arrogance.”
“I was wrong. It’s confidence. And it’s breathtaking.” He pulled her closer, and she stumbled forward, her other hand coming up to rest on his chest. Beneath her palm she could feel the scattering of hair and the heat from his bare skin. Outside, the wind gusted again and rattled the glass panes.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not sure what else she should say.
“I want to be able to do what you can.”
Her head came up in surprise. “What? You mean with a rifle? Because I can assure you I can teach you how to handle the Baker far faster than I can teach you how to swim—”
“I’m not talking about swimming and shooting. I’m talking about…” He stopped. “Knowing who you are. I don’t know if the man I have become here, now, can ever reconcile with the man who needs to exist in London.”
“They are the same person, Noah. Lawson, Ellery, Ashland, the name matters not. Your journey is only relevant to the lessons it has taught along the way, not to its final destination.”
In the dark his other hand found the side of her face, his fingers pulling her wet hair over her shoulder before tracing the edge of her jaw. “But you are so sure. So sure of who you are.”
“I’m sure when I’m with you.” That uncomfortable truth slipped out before she could stop it, before she could return it to the deep recesses of her mind where it had dwelt unobserved and unacknowledged.
The hand that still held hers tightened. “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Elise dropped her head, resting it against the broad expanse of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
His free hand settled gently against the back of her neck, keeping her close against him. “I rather think it does.”
Elise felt her lips curl. “Now you’re stealing my lines.”
“You owe me a few.”
A silence fell as Elise tried to find words that would explain, while Noah waited patiently.
“When I’m with you, like this, without an audience, I forget myself. I forget the role I am supposed to play, forget the lines I am supposed to deliver. With you I can step from the shadows,” she said quietly. “But the rest of the time, I’m an actress, Noah. A woman who manipulates illusion to achieve whatever ends have been set out for me, whether it’s on a theater stage or in a London ballroom. Today I was just a girl with a gun. Tomorrow I might need to be someone else. A week from now, you’ll no longer recognize me. I’ll no longer recognize me.”
“You’re so much more than just a girl with a gun.” He said it fiercely and with such passion that she felt her stomach drop and her pulse race. “I see you, Elise DeVries. No matter what clothes you might wear or what mask you might assume, I see your courageous heart and I see your beautiful mind. I see your compassion and your hope, your resilience and your strength. If you do not know who you are, know that I do.”
A blinding flash of light assaulted her eyes, followed by an instant rumble of thunder. His words made her want to weep with their quiet conviction. It was ironic, really. Each one so sure of the other. Both seeing more from without than they could from within.
“I’m so tired of pretending,” she whispered. “Sometimes I’m not sure I can even remember who I once was. Or even who I want to be tomorrow.”
“Who do you want to be tomorrow?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Elise closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about tomorrow.”
He stilled. The hand at the back of her neck tightened, his fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck. His other hand released hers, and his fingers traveled over her upper arm, over her collarbone, coming to rest against the side of her face. “Then let’s talk about now.” His mouth was an inch away from hers.
She could hear his hunger and his need in the rasp of his words. She raised her other hand to his chest and ran both over the planes of his pectorals, down over his abdomen, and around his back, pressing her body against his. Her breasts were heavy, and the damp fabric of her shirt was chafing at her sensitive nipples.
He pulled her head back gently. “Who do you want to be right now?” he asked, his mouth against her ear. His voice was rough and full of promise. Her insides melted into a pulsing liquid heat. Dampness gathered between her legs. He would claim her now, unless she stopped him. Unless she pulled back out of his reach and retreated.
She swallowed, the words stuck in her throat.
“Right now, at this very moment, who do you want to be, Elise?”
“Yours,” she whispered. “I want to be yours.”
* * *
He found her lips in the darkness as a rumble of thunder ripped across the sky and the rain pounded on the roof and the windows. It mirrored the tumult that was coursing through his body, the need and hunger for this woman eclipsing everything that was reasonable and comprehensible. He had kissed her before he understood who she was and what she would ask of him, caught up in a vortex of intense desire he was powerless to fight. And he had kissed her after, still unable to resist her, but this, this was different. This was a melding of hearts and souls, a gut-wrenching acknowledgment that they were bound by more than just circumstance and fate. This was far more than a mere kiss, and there would be no going back from wherever this led them.
He pushed his hands farther into the mass of her wet hair, his lips slanting hard across hers. It was a confession, an assertion of the kaleidoscope of emotions that were warring for supremacy within him. And beneath this onslaught, she met him halfway. Exactly where he knew she would be.
He tried to pace himself because, God help him, he knew he should be gentle and patient and careful. He wanted to be all those things—she deserved all those things—but this need that filled him was wild and like nothing he had ever experienced before. He was unbearably hard, his erection throbbing at the wet restriction of his breeches. Against his chest he could feel the firm pressure of her breasts, and he ran his hands down the length of her spine, gathering her tightly within his embrace. The urge to claim her, to take her swiftly against the wall, on the table, on the floor, anywhere he might bury himself deep within her heat and find release from this torment, was making him light-headed.
Another roll of thunder crashed across the sky, shaking the very walls of his house. He dropped his hands to her ass, pulling her hard against him, desperately afraid he wouldn’t have the control to make this perfect for her. His hands moved to stroke the sides of her breasts, her skin fiery beneath the sodden coolness of her shirt, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. He wanted all of her against all of him. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt and pulled up at the fabric, trying to work it from her body and over her arms, but it was wet and twisted and uncooperative, and against his mouth, Elise made a sound of frustration.
Without his thinking, his fingers released the hem and moved to the ties at the neck of her shirt, curling into the seams, pulling at the worn linen. The threadbare fabric would rip, he knew, if he pulled hard enough, rending from her throat down the length of her torso. His fingers tightened, and he felt the first frayed edges give way. Somewhere beyond his haze of lust his conscience reminded him that this was not careful or patient. He felt completely out of control, and he barely recognized himself at this moment.
Without warning, Elise broke their kiss. “Do it,” she gasped.
Noah went still. She couldn’t possibly have divined what he’d been thinking.
She brought her hands up to his and covered them with her own. “I want nothing between us.” Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. “Nothing.”
Noah squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying to find his control. Her words were pushing him further and further away from whatever shreds remained of his gentle intentions.
“Do it, Noah.” Elise slid her hands up and twisted her fingers in his hair, her mouth against his ear, her tongue grazing the sensitive spot in the hollow of his neck beneath his earlobe.
“Elise—”
“I dare you.”
Noah groaned and pulled hard, the fabric in his hands giving way easily. She stepped back as he shoved the wet linen back over her shoulders, her hands dropping so that he could push the sleeves down her arms. Her shirt fell to the floor behind her, forgotten, and her trousers followed. He could still hear her rapid breathing, could smell the rain on her skin, could feel the heat of her body so close to his.
Lightning flickered again through the windows, and for an ephemeral moment, he could see her. And then the blackness returned, but the sight of her bared to him sucked the air from his lungs and forced a sound from his throat he didn’t recognize.
In the next instant, her hands were on him, the slide of her fingers and palms over his chest, along his ribs, down to the waistband of his breeches. With deft movements she went to work on the buttons, each brush of her fingers against his throbbing erection an exercise in torture. His breeches loosened and her hands delved beneath the waistband, pushing the wet fabric over his hips and down his thighs. She had gone down on a knee, he realized, as he felt her hands sliding along the rigid muscles of his thighs and then his calves as she worked his breeches from his legs down to his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicking them to the side, and then stood frozen as her hands skimmed his knees, then the insides of his thighs. He felt the brush of her hair against his cock as she bent, and then her mouth replaced her fingers as she left a fiery trail of kisses along the insides of his legs and ever higher.
She cupped his balls in her hand and then stroked the length of his erection, and he moaned at the indescribable pleasure of her touch. His fingers tangled in her hair as her hands slid around his thighs and over his buttocks. And then she took him in her mouth, and he nearly came right there as her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock. Lightning flashed, and Noah had a sudden glimpse of Elise kneeling before him, her dark head bent as she explored him with her mouth. He had never, in all his life, seen such an erotic, perfectly wicked sight, and the smoldering lust he’d fought to control ignited into a firestorm that ripped through his veins, lodging itself deep in the base of his spine and making his cock pulse in anticipation.
He staggered slightly and forced himself back, dropping to his knees in front of her.
“I won’t last,” he whispered raggedly, his hands still in her hair.
“I never intended you to,” she murmured, finding his mouth again in the dark with her own and kissing him deeply.
He shuddered at the rawness of her words, a feeling of such possession coursing through him that it left him reeling. He took control of the kiss and dragged his teeth over her lower lip, his tongue sparring with hers. “I want you to feel what I feel when I’m with you,” he rasped against her, his mouth moving down the edge of her jaw to the long column of her neck. “I want you to know what you do to me.”
Elise’s hands came up to grasp his wrists, her fingers quivering against his muscles. “Can you feel that?” she asked. “Can you feel me shaking?”
He might have nodded, but it was becoming a chore to breathe, much less speak.
“You do that to me.” She guided one of his hands down over her breast to cover her hardened nipple. “You do this.” She pulled his fingers down farther, over the gentle swell of her abdomen, and pressed them between her thighs. “And you do this.”
It was Noah who trembled now, even as she released his hand. She was wet and hot, and he slid a finger through that glorious heat, the heel of his hand rocking hard against her pubic bone. She hissed and arched against him, her hips jerking as he pushed one finger into her, then two. She grasped his shoulders, her head falling back. Noah withdrew before pushing back into her, and she whimpered, her hips rolling down against the pressure. He bent his head, his mouth finding the swell of her breast and then her nipple, his teeth grazing the hard peak before he sucked gently.
Every muscle in Elise’s body went taut, and she pushed herself back with the same desperation with which he had only a moment ago.
“I won’t last,” she panted.
“Never my intention,” he managed.
“Oh God.” She made a muffled sound that might have been laughter.
Chilled air intruded into the space between them as a fork of lightning sent a blinding flash through the room and thunder crashed overhead. Noah leaned forward, despising even that small distance between them. He ran a finger over her bottom lip, now swollen and soft. Another surge of possessiveness roared through him, a craving so acute that it was physical pain. “Tell me, Elise. Tell me what you want.”
He heard her suck in her breath, heard the unevenness of her voice when she spoke. “I want you to make me yours. I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to hear you say my name when you come. I want your nights and your deepest fantasies that go with them. And when I come, I want your name on my lips.”
Noah closed his eyes, knowing that he was forever lost. He would never recover from her. Never find another who would give what she had already given him. She owned his heart and his soul and all the dark and the light that might be found in both. He found her hand, shoving himself to his feet and pulling her with him.
Without a second’s hesitation, he swept her into his arms.
* * *
Noah carried Elise into her room, and the panic that she always felt with such loss of control was wholly absent. Everything had tilted between them, altered beyond what she once recognized. He was a part of her now, woven into the tapestry of her being, and she would trust him with her very life. She kept her hands wrapped tightly about his neck, felt his strong hands supporting her even as he kissed her, tiny tastes that left her gasping and needing more.
She had nearly climaxed the first time he had slid his finger through the folds of her sex. She could have let him bring her to the edge and take her over simply with his hands. But she knew that wasn’t going to be enough for her. Not this time. Maybe never. She wanted all of him, wanted to feel all his strength and his power when he took her.
There would come a time when she would watch. When there would be light enough to look into his eyes as he made love to her, see the splendor of his body, watch their bodies join. But on this night she would rely on her other senses. Taste the sweat of his skin, hear the sounds of his pleasure, feel his body reach for release.
He stopped abruptly in the darkness and bent, and Elise barely had time to register the cool sheets of her bed beneath her back before he came down, bracing himself above her, his kisses no longer a series of tastes but a hungry plunder that she was only too eager to comply with. He nudged her thighs apart with his knees, kneeling between her legs and straightening, his mouth leaving hers, but his hands now traveling over her collarbone to explore the generous swell of her breasts. He covered them with his palms, his thumbs scraping the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Elise made a sound of pleasure even as her back came off the bed, arching farther into his touch as her legs tightened on either side of his hips.
“So beautiful,” Noah whispered into the blackness.
Elise couldn’t answer, the feel of his hands, of his skin against hers, wiping her mind of everything except the sensation of his fingers as they traveled over her ribs, spanned her hips, and then slid along the insides of her legs, urging them wider. He bent, pressing his mouth to her navel, then to the soft skin of her inner thigh, tormenting touches that robbed her of breath. The want that had pooled low in her belly swelled to a throbbing that intensified with each touch that only teased.
And then his mouth was there, his tongue doing unholy things that had her fingers curling into the bedding in an attempt to anchor herself to something. Something that would keep her from flying into tiny pieces.
“Noah,” she gasped. She needed him to stop. She needed him to never stop.
He raised his head, the immediate loss of his ministrations a horrible, cruel thing, but then his body covered hers, and his weight and his heat pressed her deep into the mattress. The rub of his chest hair against her breasts was an intoxicating friction, and his heart pounded beneath his ribs in time with hers. He braced himself on his elbows, and Elise wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips straining. Beneath her calves, the muscles in his buttocks flexed, and she could feel the tip of his cock nudge against the entrance to her folds.
She tightened her legs, her hands sliding over his back, urging him against her. She could hear his labored breathing, could feel the perspiration on his feverish skin as he fought for control.
“Not enough,” she panted. “All of you.”
He made a tortured noise and thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt.
Elise moaned, her hips tipping, reveling in the rightness of his filling her, stretching her, truly making her his. He stayed motionless for an exquisite moment, time suspended in sensation before he moved, withdrawing and then pushing back into her in a long, smooth stroke.
Behind her eyelids stars danced and exploded. She teetered on the precipice, wanting, needing, to take him with her when she went. She shifted her legs, her heels now braced against his ass, her inner muscles clenching around the length of him as she rocked her hips.
He groaned and slid out before impaling her again, harder this time.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed.
He gasped, a harsh, desperate sound, and he obeyed with hard, deliberate thrusts that sent perfect arrows of agonized pleasure spiraling through her. She met him stroke for stroke, feeling the tension within her build, the coiling of energy and anticipation winding tighter and tighter. Beneath her the bed pitched and rocked, while above the thunderstorm still raged, drowning out the sounds of flesh on flesh and the small noises of desire.
She felt the first ripples of release descend through her body, and her hands grasped at his back, her legs tightening around his hips before the wave of her orgasm slammed through her. The force of it sucked the air from her lungs and tore the voice from her throat as her body convulsed upon itself, leaving her insensible to anything except the excruciating pleasure that hammered mercilessly through her limbs.
Elise came back to herself enough to hear Noah moan, pushing hard into her, his hips jerking, before he yanked out of her and thrust himself against her belly, spending himself in the soft hollow of her hip. His head dropped into her shoulder, his breath coming in great heaving gasps, his hips still thrusting in small, slow movements.
She stroked the back of his head with her hand, trailing her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders, languidly, with no thought other than for the contentment it gave her to simply touch him, here, like this. This was where she belonged. No matter who she might have been or who she might yet become, she belonged to this man. In her search for Noah Ellery, she had found something she hadn’t even known she’d been looking for. Here, in the security of his arms, she had found a sanctuary, uncluttered by secrets and artifice. Here she’d found only a feeling of rightness and a bittersweet ache in her chest that told her that her heart was no longer hers to give. He had claimed it as surely as he had claimed her body.
Noah stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows. The rain that had pounded on the windows and the roof had let up, but the thunder still echoed, though it had moved off into the distance. He bent his head and kissed her, a butterfly touch of his lips against hers, gentle and soft. “Don’t move,” he said.
Elise was reasonably sure that she wouldn’t be able to move for a long time yet, her body sated to the point of immobility. “Mmmm,” was all she could put together, hoping he would take it as a sign of her acquiescence.
He rolled off her and stood, disappearing somewhere into the house before returning less than a minute later. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, letting something drop to the floor next to her with a muted thump.
“What was that?” she asked.
“My knife. My clothes. What’s left of your shirt. And a replacement.”
“You brought me a shirt?”
“One of mine. In case you were cold.”
His hands found her in the darkness, and Elise started as he pressed something cool and damp to her stomach. Belatedly she realized it was her ruined shirt that he was smoothing over her skin, wiping traces of his semen from her. His fingers followed the path of the cloth, tracing the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Noah let the wet linen drop to the floor and ran a hand along her cheek, bending to press his mouth to her shoulder, another sweet hail of kisses against her damp skin. She felt worshipped and treasured and devastatingly happy.
Elise heard the bed ropes creak as he shifted, moving over her and stretching out on the far side of the bed, his body pressed against hers. Water dripped from an eave somewhere, the last lonely remnant of the deluge. Outside, shadows were shifting, glimpses of silver moonlight shining through as the last of the rain clouds parted and scudded across the sky.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered against her ear. “Dawn will come soon enough. And the road to London is long.”
Elise nodded, though she didn’t ask who Noah would be when he rode into London. She didn’t ask about the title or the fortune or the solicitors who waited with bated breath, wondering if the heir to Ashland would materialize. She didn’t ask about Francis Ellery, because it was enough, for now, that Noah would be there for his sister.
Because it was enough, for now, that he would be with her.