Shayla Black (25 page)

With a tortured moan, Brock withdrew, then pushed into her again slowly. Too slowly. And this time when Maddie lifted her hips to him, she encountered no resistance from her body, only unimaginable pleasure mounting at a breathless pace.

As Brock thrust, Maddie met him halfway, eager to feel him inside her again. Their pace increased, and Brock fit a hand between them to touch her sex again. The dual sensations of pleasure sent her breath careening out of control. Her heels found the mattress again as the pressure built, coiling, aching, and sending her soaring to the edge of pleasure. But these sensations were multiplied. The pleasure wasn’t just under that little bud of sensation. It was inside her deep, where his cock kept prodding a spot that made her gasp with every thrust. It had swelled and now tingled, alive, ready to burst.

“
You’re ready, Maddie,” he breathed against her mouth.

She could make little sense of the overwhelming sensations, much less his assertion. “No.”

Immediately, he ceased all movement and remained buried in her tight sheath. Her body tensed in protest, ached as if she had a fever. Above her, Brock’s breathing grew labored. A rivulet of sweat ran down his neck.

“
No!” she cried out. “Don’t stop.”

Maddie felt him give her that devil’s smile against her mouth as he resumed his thrusts, this time quicker, with more force than before. The tingling between her legs surged to life again with a vengeance, dominating her flushed body. His fingers on her most sensitive place sent her soaring hard and fast to the edge. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and mewled.

The magic feelings built, tightened, converged, making her sizzle. “Yes. Yes! Oh, yes!”

The pleasure crackled, then peaked, spreading ecstasy like liquid delight all through her as her sex shuddered around him. Brock cried out above her, and she felt a flood of warmth deep inside her. After a moan that bespoke satisfaction, he kissed her mouth and lay atop her, his face in the crook of her neck.

No wonder the
Kama Sutra
had failed to adequately explain the amazing sensation of release. She could hardly describe the enchantment of it herself.

Lethargy began to spread through her body, so intense she’d rarely known its like. Brock stroked her shoulder, his soft touch keeping her attuned to his nearness. He pressed tender kisses onto her neck, her shoulder, as if he worshipped her, as if he had made love with his heart, like she had.

A rush of released emotions barraged her. Maddie curled her hand in the hair at his nape and cuddled into the warmth of his body. A sense of utter tranquility suffused her. She sighed.

He raised his head and brushed stray curls from her face. “Maddie?”

The concern shone in the glitter of his green eyes. She drew in a deep breath, searching for the words to describe how she felt. “I never expected, never knew... I’ve never felt like that.”

She expected a swagger of a smile. Instead, he merely nodded. “We are good together.”

Brock closed his eyes and frowned, looking as if he wanted to say more. When he opened them again, his eyes gleamed bright with resolution. “
Very
good together, in many ways.”

His gaze became very serious. Maddie found herself holding her breath.

He brushed a gentle thumb along her damp cheek. “Marry me, Maddie. Truly. I know I’ve lost our wager by making love to you tonight—”

“
Tonight had nothing to do with our wager,” she refuted instantly. And she meant that.

The thought of sullying the bliss they had shared with their bet made her stomach roil. No, tonight had been about the fact she’d needed someone—needed him—and he had been there for her in every way. Maddie refused to think of it otherwise.

Yet she could not imagine resuming the terms of their wager after tonight. Next time he came to the cottage to seduce her into marriage, she would likely agree to anything, now that she knew the magic of his touch.

How would she resist him?

Or should she?

Maddie exhaled raggedly and realized Brock stared at her intently, awaiting her reply to his unexpected proposal. She had none to give. The man who had held and helped her tonight was not the man who had threatened her with debtor’s prison. He was not the same man who seemingly delighted in her discomfort and doom. Indeed, he had done all he could tonight to keep her from either. Surely such a man would not treat her or Aimee cruelly.

But could she be certain of that? Was she ready to marry again, to chain herself to a man who seemed to disdain her more often than not? And how much would he hate her if he discovered the truth about Aimee? Perhaps she should tell him...or was it already too late?

Maddie bit her lip, conscious of Brock’s questioning stare. “I must have time to think. A few days, please. I am exhausted. I cannot think now.”

Brock’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. Though he did not like her answer, he accepted it. “You’ve been through a great deal.”

She reached across the space between them to touch his bare brown shoulder. “I will truly consider it. I promise. I must be certain before I enter into anything.” Maddie wanted to explain, tell him that she feared for her legal independence... for her heart. But she knew he would only argue. “I vow I will think of nothing else and give you an answer by week’s end. Perhaps I simply need sleep.”

“
Then sleep,” he whispered as he gathered her up in his arms. He held her as slumber overtook her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maddie opened her eyes to a dark, unfamiliar room. She lay alone in a cold, white-sheeted bed.

Something—a noise?—had jolted her from a sound sleep. Dazed, she sat up. The sheet slid down her breasts to fall into a heap in her lap.

To her astonishment, she was naked.

Memories of the previous night came rushing back. Aimee’s disappearance, Brock’s tender determination and help. And in the aftermath of her ordeal, the blistering warmth of his succor.

Dark and disquieting, desire flooded her stomach in a wild remembrance of shared kisses and sighs, of his skilled touch and heaven beyond her imagining. How easily he had guided her to that sweet bliss. Even more surprising, the poignant delight she had felt in sharing the moment with
him.

A shocking turn of events, to be sure.

Then, once again, he had asked her to marry him. This time, his proposal seemed to come not from his ambition, but his heart. Maddie had seen the sincerity on his face, shining from those green eyes. Inside, her heart had shouted yes. But caution and experience had overridden that—barely. She owed him an answer by week’s end.

Lord, what answer would she give?

The noise that awakened her resounded again. It was a knock.

Maddie scrambled from the bed and searched the floor for her chemise. Fumbling in the weak moonlight glow filtering in from the next room, she finally found her shift and donned it.

As she headed for the door, she peeked at Aimee, who still slept soundly on the sofa, all tangled in the soft quilt.

Unable to resist, Maddie succumbed to the need to kiss her slumbering daughter, to draw in the powdery scent of her little-girl skin. She felt a moment of peace with the world. Aimee was the most important part of her life. Having her daughter returned and safe meant more than words could express.

And she owed it to Brock.

“
Mrs. Smith?” a woman from the other side of the door called out.

Smith?
The voice belonged to the innkeeper’s wife; she remembered it from the previous night. Had the woman knocked on the wrong door?

“
Yer mister had a horse sent to ye and told me to wake ye before the sun rose.”

Brock. Clearly, he had left hours ago and sent her mount so she could return home, as he had said he would. Still, he continued to do his utmost to protect her good name, even misleading the innkeepers to believe they were man and wife.

“
Thank you,” Maddie called to the woman.

Since the innkeeper’s wife did not look as if she’d fallen off the apple cart yesterday, Maddie had to assume the woman found Brock’s early morning disappearance and his instructions to his “missus” more than a bit suspicious. However, Maddie would also bet her last few sovereigns that Brock had paid the woman handsomely to look the other way.

Money did have its advantages, and in the past twenty-four hours, Brock had used them all to her benefit. She could not deny that warmed her heart.

“
Oh, and yer mister had me bake some fresh gingerbread for the little lassie. It’ll be waitin’ downstairs for ye.”

“
He remembered,” Maddie whispered to herself.

Aimee would love it. Why had he cared enough to have it baked for the girl? The stirring surprise moved her. Brock treated Aimee far better than Colin, who had legally claimed the child. In fact, from the day Aimee emerged following a trying two-day labor, Colin had despised the girl. While Brock, having no notion that Aimee was of his own flesh, had nearly behaved like a concerned father last night. Could the man who had done so much to see Aimee safe really send her to Fleet or a workhouse?

Today, Maddie doubted he could. In fact, she’d awakened to a rebirth of the heart where Brock was concerned. For nearly five years, she had believed her emotions for him were dead, crushed when he had abandoned her, ruined and pregnant, without a word. Finding fortune had been more important to him then. Now, he still craved fortune, but acted as though he found her and her daughter significant as well. Thus, her feelings for him had resurfaced, shimmering, glowing inside her like a secret.

Maddie bit her lip. Did she dare care for him again? After last night, how could she not?

Aimee moaned, interrupting Maddie’s thoughts. She turned to find her daughter lying on the sofa with half-open eyes.

Maddie smiled and went to the girl’s side, enveloping her in a giant hug. Aimee laid her soft golden head upon Maddie’s breast, breathing soft breaths of comfort and trust. Maddie was relieved to see the child’s ankle nearly back to normal.

It wasn’t long before Aimee’s stomach roused her. Quickly, Maddie dressed and helped the groggy child stand. They descended the stairs to find the innkeeper waiting with the warm gingerbread, courtesy of Brock.

Maddie accepted it with thanks, took Aimee’s hand and led her outside.

“
Mama, is that gingabread for me?” she asked, eyes hopeful.

After breaking off a piece, Maddie handed it to her. “Yes, Mr. Taylor had it made especially for you.”

Aimee put as much in her little mouth as possible and chewed, wearing a look of bliss.

Her horse awaited them, freshly brushed and fed from the looks of things. Maddie sent a silent thank you to Brock once more. He’d thought of everything from their comfort to her reputation.

The vestiges of night fog swirled around them as she and Aimee traveled northwest. The sun turned the sky a mysterious gray within half an hour. Servants of all shapes and sizes descended from homes to begin daily tasks for their employers. By the time they reached the edge of the city, it teemed with people and activity, a loud display of London’s humanity.

Soon, she and Aimee arrived at Ashdown Manor to find Aunt Edith—and thus, the whole house—in an uproar. Quickly, Maddie explained Aimee’s disappearance. Her elderly aunt and Vema surrounded the little girl, oohing and cooing, jubilant at her safe return. With no compunction whatsoever, Aimee devoured the attention.

Weary to the bone, Maddie tried to sneak in a quick nap, but her mind would not rest. One question dominated her every thought: Should she marry Brock?

If she did not, how could she resume their midnight assignations and resist the lure of his lovemaking, now that she knew how wonderful they felt together? How could she resist the man himself, knowing how caring he could be?

Or did his caring have a more devious purpose? Did he merely do and say things he thought would sway her? She hated to be so suspicious after he’d done so much for her. He’d seemed so genuine… But she’d be naïve if she didn’t question his sudden about-face.

With a sigh, Maddie punched her pillow and gave up the idea of rest. Perhaps tonight would prove better.

“
My lady,” Matheson said as she descended the stairs. “A Lord Belwick wishes to see you. Will you receive him?”

Maddie frowned, more than a bit puzzled. She did not know Lord Belwick personally and scarcely knew
of
him. What on earth would he want with her?

Curiosity got the better of her. “Show him into the parlor,” she told Matheson. “I shall be there directly.”

Maddie returned to her room and contemplated her closet with a frown. All her gowns were either suitable for hard work or the latest soiree. Knowing there was no hope for her wardrobe at the moment, she changed into one of her better serviceable dresses, one still somewhat acceptable for Sunday.

At the parlor door, she stopped. Lord Belwick sat on the edge of the sofa, short fingers fidgeting restlessly. His graying hair made him look a bit pale, yet he projected an impression of incisive knowledge and unquestionable power.