Earls Just Want to Have Fun (24 page)

Gideon moved quickly, so quickly the clerk never knew what happened. One minute the man was sitting there, feeling all safe and pretentious, and the next minute Gideon's knife was pressed to the boy's soft throat. “The question is, what's it to you?”

Gideon was aware a hush had fallen over the room, and half a dozen Runners were giving him the eye. If he so much as pricked the little clerk, his neck would be stretched in a hangman's noose before nightfall. And Gideon liked his neck just the way it was, thank you very much. Now that he had the clerk's attention, not to mention the rest of the Bow Street office, they could do business. “I want to see Sir Brook Derring,” Gideon said slowly and loud enough so the other Runners could hear. “If he's not here, tell me where to find him.

“He's here,” the clerk stammered, glancing up at Gideon with terror in his eyes. “He doesn't want to be disturbed.”

“He'll want to be disturbed for what I have to tell him,” Gideon said.

“And what do you have to tell me?” a voice said from behind Gideon. Gideon couldn't help but smile. Finally. The man himself. But he didn't remove the knife from the clerk's throat. He wanted to speak before he was hauled away. That was his only chance.

Gideon raised his eyes and searched for the man who'd spoken. He found him, a tall man with dark blond hair and cunning brown eyes. Gideon took one look at the man's eyes and knew he'd get nothing past him. Gideon made a point of glancing at the other men. “It's a private matter,” he said. “This place has too many ears.”

“I'm going to hang you up by the ears, if you don't start talking,” Sir Brook said. He didn't move, didn't raise his voice, but the hair stood up on Gideon's neck. He'd rather die before he said Satin's name or gave anything away about Marlowe's plan. He'd long known Satin must have paid a few Runners to look past his activities beyond Seven Dials. For all Gideon knew, Satin's cronies were listening right now.

“Two words,” Gideon said, pulling the knife away from the clerk's throat. “Lady Elizabeth.”

As soon as the knife was gone, several Runners rushed Gideon. They grabbed his arms, and he felt their fists in his belly. He would have doubled over if they hadn't been holding him, and then suddenly he was released and almost fell flat on his face. He dropped to his knees, coughing and trying to catch his breath. A pair of highly polished black boots stood before him. “Stand up and come with me.”

Gideon pushed to his feet, and ignoring the hard stares of the Runners who looked as though they'd have liked nothing better than to slit his throat, he followed Sir Brook deeper into the building.

Dane had paced the room enough times to know it was four steps across the room and four back again. His lips were still warm from where they'd touched Marlowe's, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was kissing Gideon now. She'd been gone longer than he liked.

He hated this feeling of helplessness. He wanted to go after her, but he had no idea how to find her. This was her world, and he was a visitor—and not a welcome one. He heard a creak in the hallway and turned to see the door open soundlessly. He pulled Marlowe into his arms before she had the chance to say a word. “Where the devil were you?”

She gave him a confused look. “I told you.”

“Where's he?”

“He's gone to see if your brother received our note. I told you he'd help us. He has no love for Satin.” She pushed out of his arms and tucked an errant lock of hair that had come loose from her cap back behind her ear.

Dane resisted the urge to pull her back into his arms. “What do we do now?”

Marlowe shrugged and moved past him. The room was so small, she couldn't help but brush up against him. “Wait. Barbara will come for us when Satin turns up.”

“And you're certain he'll want to see you? Should we seek him out?”

She gave him a look that told him she thought his idea beyond the pale. “We wait for him to come to us.”

She sat on the bed then stood back up again, as though the bed had burned her. Dane raised his brows. She was doing everything she could to avoid him touching her, and that only made him want to touch her more. He moved closer. “Are you concerned? You seem a bit on edge.”

“I'm perfectly confident.”

He moved closer, and she stepped back.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Her eyes widened. “No!”

He moved closer again. Now he could smell the sweet scent of apricot soap on her skin. “Then why do you keep moving back?”

“Because I feel ill when you're near.” She closed her eyes as though shocked at her words. He was shocked as well.

“I'm sorry, but there it is,” she said with her characteristic bluntness. Her cheeks were flaming now, and the longer he stood close to her, the quicker her breathing became.

“I see. Can you tell me your symptoms?”

“My…what? Can you stand back? I can't think with you standing so close.”

“Interesting. What else is wrong?”

She scowled at him. “I'm hot. All over. And my skin feels tingly.” She raised a brow as though she expected him to challenge her.

“Yes, your skin does look rather flushed. May I?” He lifted a hand and brushed the back of it across her cheek. “You're not warm to the touch, but your eyes…” He leaned closer, and her breath hitched.

“What's wrong with my eyes?” she asked.

“They're huge.” He didn't remove his hand from her cheek, and she didn't move away this time. “What are your other symptoms?”

“My belly.” She put a hand over it. “It feels like I might cast up my accounts at any moment. It's all…” She waved a hand, looking for the word. “Fluttery.”

Dane could hardly keep from smiling, but he worked to keep his expression sober. “Flutters in the belly, flushed skin, large eyes. What if I do this?” He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, three times. He pulled back, and she stared at him. It hardly seemed possible, but her eyes were even larger, and so blue as to be almost violet.

“I can't breathe,” she said. She touched her chest. “The air catches here.”

“Do you know what I think, Marlowe?”

“No, and I'm not sure I care. You're no doctor.”

“I'm not,” Dane agreed, though he doubted she would have trusted a doctor either. She'd probably never been to one. “But I don't need to be a doctor to tell when a woman is aroused.”

She blinked at him.

“You want me, Marlowe. And I want you too.” He didn't wait for her to deny it or to argue. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers again, this time applying slightly more pressure as he teased her lips with his. She stepped back, and he caught her about the waist with his free hand. The other he slid up her cheek and into her hair. With a flick of the wrist, he sent her cap tumbling from her head. He threaded his hand through her thick locks until they, too, tumbled down about her shoulders.

Dane pulled back, pausing to look at her. With those violet eyes, the pretty pink in her cheeks, and the flush of red on her lips from his mouth, she was irresistible. “I do want you, Marlowe, probably more than you want me, but I'm not going to do anything you don't agree to.”

He lowered his mouth to hers again, but paused just before pressing his lips to hers. His breath mingled with hers, and he brought a hand skating over her velvet cheek. His thumb pressed against the corner of her mouth. “May I?”

“I-I don't understand what you're doing.”

“I want to kiss you.” His thumb caressed her lips. “Here.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me yes.”

She paused, and he feared for a moment she might say no. He feared he would have to release her, and he knew it would be anguish. He didn't think he could ever let her go. Finally, she breathed the word he wanted. “Yes.”

He took her mouth with his, tasting her lips and teasing her until she opened for him. He slid inside, exploring her, stroking her, showing her with his tongue what he wanted to do with his body. She allowed the invasion for a long moment—and then she kissed him back. He almost lost control then. The tentative touch of her tongue to his, followed by longer, more erotic strokes, undid him. He groaned softly, and she pulled back. “You don't like it?”

“I love it. More.” He pulled her close again but paused right before taking her mouth with his. Her head was tilted up, her eyes closed, her lips open. He could have her. He knew it, even if she didn't. But he wasn't going to take. “Do you want more, Marlowe?”

“Yes.” No hesitation now. And when he kissed her, it was she who deepened the kiss, who suckled his tongue, who moaned low in her throat. Dane moved to kiss her throat, to trace the soft skin from jaw to collarbone. He wanted to strip her of her boy's clothing, but he knew he must move slowly.

“I want to touch you,” he said, lips against the pulse beating rapidly just below her small ear. “Let me touch you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, and his hands moved to her hips, spanning her waist and then sliding under the loose shirt. Her skin was warm and smooth, her abdomen flat and hard, and he could feel her ribs. He stroked them then moved to her back, finding the gentle slope of her lower back and following it down to the curve of her buttocks under the rough trousers she wore.

“What do you feel now?” he asked.

“Like I might burst into flame. And my heart is beating so fast I'm afraid it might leap out.” The look on her face was one of real concern, and Dane ducked his head to hide his smile.

“You won't burst into flame, and your heart is securely inside your chest. I excite you. I make your body react.” He lifted her hand and placed it on his own chest. “Do you feel my heart? I feel the same way about you.”

Her gaze lowered, and he knew she saw the hard length in his trousers. That would be what she understood of male arousal. He didn't try and hide it. “I want you,” he said. “But the decision is yours.”

She looked into his eyes. “You want to swive me.”

“I want to lie with you,” he corrected. “I want to touch you everywhere. Kiss you everywhere. I want to make you feel pleasure, make you call out in the midst of climax.”

She shook her head. “You and all your words.”

Dane grinned. “It comes down to this, my sweet, blunt girl. Do you want me?”

She studied him for a long moment, and he knew before she said the words her decision. The look on her face when she gazed at him slew him. He would have done anything for her in that moment—fought dragons, turned to highway robbery, done away with a thousand Satins. There was such adoration in her look, and he knew it was not something she gave lightly, if ever.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I want you more than anything I've ever wanted.”

***

Marlowe knew what she was agreeing to. If it was a mistake, so be it. All of this would be over in a few days' time. They would go their separate ways. She might forever regret the consequences of what they were about to do, but she knew with a certainty that if she didn't lie with him, she would always regret it.

Dane slid his hands back under her shirt, and she shivered. Not because she was cold. His hands were warm and smooth and uncallused. They were strong and wide, and when he touched her, she never wanted him to stop. He grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it upward. “May I?” he asked with a politeness that might have annoyed her if it didn't make her want to throw him onto the floor and kiss him.

She nodded, and he pulled the shirt over her head. She might have been cold now if his hot gaze wasn't on her. The room had no fire in the hearth, and all she wore was the strip of linen she'd fashioned to bind her bubbies. Dane's hand slid up her back and rested on the fabric. Slowly, his hand followed the linen around. When his hand brushed her nipple, she gasped, though she could hardly feel it. She remembered the sensation all too well. His fingers toyed with the knot she'd made in the center of her chest.

“Will you allow me?” he asked.

She nodded, and the way he smiled at her made her feel beautiful. Everything he did made her feel beautiful—the way he touched her as though she were fine china, the way he looked at her as though she were a delicious tea cake, the way he asked her permission…she felt like a princess. For just once, she wanted to be his princess.

She felt the knot loosen, and Dane wound the material around his hand, freeing her slowly but surely to his gaze. His eyes stayed locked on hers, and when she was free, he dropped the linen, and his hands came to rest lightly on her back again. His fingers moved over the grooves made by the tight material, soothing the irritated skin. He worked his way around, massaging her skin gently until he took her bubbies in his hand. They were sensitive, and he massaged them as well. Her nipples grew tight, and she felt a wetness between her legs as the fluttering in her stomach moved lower and grew heavier.

“May I kiss you here?” he asked, one thumb circling her nipple.

She nodded, and he lowered his lips to brush them across the aching point. She looked down at his dark hair, at her pale flesh in his hands, at the way he kissed her. He was so reverent and yet so skilled. Flutters of pleasure radiated through her body whenever he touched her. He moved to her other nipple, taking it in his mouth as well, and she couldn't stop herself from arching back, giving herself to him. He held her, kissing her rounded flesh and then moving lower to her stomach. When she didn't feel his mouth, she looked down. He was looking up at her, and he swallowed. “You are perfect. So beautiful.” He stroked her again. “You should never be forced to bind these again.”

His hands slid down again, coming to rest on the waist of the trousers. “How do you feel now?” he asked.

“The flutters have moved lower.”

His brow rose. “Here?” He pressed her belly button.

“Lower.”

“Here?” he slid his hand down two inches, and she could hardly stop from squirming.

“Lower,” she whispered, and his hand moved down until he cupped her.

“Here?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I think something is wrong. I feel…” She couldn't say it.

“Tell me.” Earlier he had said her eyes were large, but his were impossibly huge now.

“I'm leaking. Down there.”

His mouth quirked as though he might laugh.

She half-expected him to pull his hand away, but he didn't move. “You are not disgusted?”

“Marlowe, if your table manners didn't put me off, nothing will.”

“Villain!” She pushed him, but he tugged her back into his arms.

“I am a villain,” he admitted. His eyes were so dark, she could almost believe it. “If you knew the thoughts going through my mind right now, you would turn and run.”

“Then the leaking is to be expected.”

“It's to be desired, and it means you're ready.”

“For?”

He loosened the fastening on her trousers. “For me to remove these.” He slid them down onto her hips. “What are you wearing under these?”

“Nothing.”

He groaned. “Please allow me to continue.” He sounded as though he were in pain. She nodded, and the trousers dropped to the floor. He took her hands, and she stepped out of the garment. She was completely exposed to him now. She'd never shown her body to anyone like this. She'd barely ever glimpsed it herself, since she was always so careful to keep covered when the cubs were around. And the cubs were always around.

She should have felt shy, but the way Dane looked at her made her feel bold and stunning. He swallowed visibly, and his breath hitched when he inhaled. “I could look at you all day. All night.”

She laughed. “Shall I turn around?”

“God, yes.”

But when she began to turn, he put his hand on her elbow. “We'll save that temptation for another time.” His hand traveled from her elbow to her hip, caressing it so softly it almost tickled. “I wish I had more light. You're so perfect that I want to see you.”

“That might be tedious.” After all, she had made her decision, and now she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. She knew it involved much more than looking. She'd seen enough in dark alleys and half-closed doors to have a pretty good idea what men and women did together.

“Tedious?” Dane said, brow raised. “I promise you won't find this tedious.” He lifted his great coat from the end of the bed and laid it down over the bedclothes. He turned, and she thought he would invite her to sit. Instead, he swept her up and into his arms. She squealed from surprise and then sighed with pleasure when he lowered her onto the wool of the coat. It smelled like him, all leather and laundered wool. His weight came down on top of her, though he braced himself on his elbows. But he was warm and solid above her, and she wrapped her arms about his neck in invitation.