What the Groom Wants (23 page)

Wendy had been kissed before. She and Radley had done a great deal more than this, but something was different this time.

He held her firmly with one hand cupping the back of her head. He had large hands, and so his fingers threaded through her hair until she felt caught in a net of warm fire. He wrapped his other hand around her waist, lifting her onto the bed so that she lost all control of her position. She tried to put one knee on the mattress to steady herself, but his bed was so high he had to carry her. As he tightened his hold—his mouth never leaving hers—she lost connection to the earth. She was lifted and caught as if she truly were the wind in his sails.

And then he made it more.

He brought her to him, pulled her on top until she lay against his naked torso. She felt the hard planes of his chest, the rigid thrust of his organ, and the shift of his muscles as he moved his hands across her back, then through her hair.

She felt these things distantly, myriad sensations that composed the background of what he did. Her main focus was on their mouths, fused as his tongue thrust inside.

There was power in his push—different than any she had known before. Dominant, possessive—it claimed her but in the way of a man claiming a god as
his
god
, his being to worship. Or perhaps, she should say goddess. He owned her as his goddess, his every caress an act of exaltation.

She had no idea how to respond, no thoughts beyond pleasure and joy. But even as her mind labeled the thrust and parry of their tongues, her heart sang its own tune.

It was a simple song with one word: love. It had a tempo that echoed in the rapid beats of her heart. It had a harmony in the way she intertwined her body with his. Her tongue rolled around his, her hands found purchase on his shoulders, reveling in the heat of his skin. And even her legs slipped between his, pressing her hips against the thrust of his pelvis.

And the music had a melody that sang in her veins as she broke from his mouth to push away. Her shift in position ground her groin against his, and she heard his hiss in pleasure. He hadn’t let her go far—high enough to look at him in the moonlight. Apparently, the man liked to keep his curtains open, and the light bathed them in silver. And while she looked, she found enough space to gulp in air and to use one hand to tug at the buttons of her night rail.

He stopped her fumbling fingers, stilling them as he whispered. “Let me take it off you. Please.”

She could hardly say no. After all, she was too clumsy, and her position prevented her from real progress. So she let her hand fall away as his fingers replaced hers.

He used one hand, but he was more in control than she. While his left hand gripped her hip, his right undid button after button down her neck and between her breasts. The fabric gaped open, and as he worked, he stroked the exposed skin. A brush here, a caress there. She felt her body tremble as he touched her.

Then he ran out of buttons. In truth, the opening went barely below her breasts, but it was enough for him to brush his entire hand inside, to stroke her from belly to neck.

She still was pushed up, her legs and groin heavy against his heat, while her arms kept her torso elevated. That meant she had little leverage to move as his hand roamed freely. At first, he kept to the narrow passageway between her breasts, but before long, his hand spread, his fingers stretched, and his path meandered.

He used his knuckles and the back of his hand then twisted so that the pads of his fingers touched her. All in the lightest of strokes, and every caress left a tingling fire in its wake. Her breasts soon became hot, her nipples aching. He squeezed those tips. First one, then, eventually, the other. A pinch, a twist, whatever seemed to strike his fancy, while the heat of his touch seared her.

Her breath grew short and her head heavy. Before long, her forehead dropped until it touched his. He smiled, looking at her before taking her mouth again. A steady catch, a slow penetration, then thrusts that had her arms giving way until she once again lay fully on top of him.

This time when she broke away, it was so she could catch her breath. She turned away, but his fingers found her face. He stroked her hair from her eyes, touched her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“I cannot stop touching you. I’m afraid this is a dream.”

“Do you often dream of women coming to you at night?” She meant it as a joke, then belatedly realized that all men fantasized these things.

“Not women,” he said. “You. Night after night, I dream of you.”

Then, before she could respond, he abruptly lifted her. Never would she have guessed that he was strong enough to pick her up and set her to the side. She scrambled to get her knees under her, and he held her aloft as he waited. And then he slid his hands down her sides to the hem of her night rail.

She shifted slightly, letting him pull the fabric away from her legs. But as she moved, the shoulder of her gown slid down her left side. The fabric caught for a second on her breast, but her ragged breath allowed it to drop. Her breast was exposed, and his gaze settled there.

“You are glowing,” he said as he touched the curve of her breast. “Your skin in the moonlight. It’s like alabaster.” Then he abruptly brushed the other side of the gown away. “I will adorn you in pearls and rubies, but they will never come close to your beauty.”

“Radley,” she whispered, “I don’t want jewels. I want you to touch me.”

His eyes flashed dark, his expression hungry. “Of course, my lady.”

She was about to protest the title. She was no lady, not in any sense. But at that point, his hands shifted to her arms, holding them at her sides. Then his mouth touched her neck at the notch in her collarbone. His lips at the base of her throat, and as if by magic, her head dropped back, exposing all.

He licked her there, and then he nuzzled her neck. His hair tickled her jaw, his lips soft and his teeth rough. She smelled his scent—a spicy sea salt—and had no words to frame how perfect that was. As if that scent were her home.

His mouth moved lower as she arched into his kiss. He took his time, holding her still as he sucked her nipples. First one, then a nip, before transferring to the other. Soon her entire body trembled, and her nipples were a dark, wet red.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

She opened her eyes, feeling dazed and slightly annoyed. Didn’t he want more? Her legs shifted restlessly, and she tried to escape his grip. She wanted her night rail off. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to express what she felt.

“Radley,” she murmured, his name a throaty moan. “More.” She felt him smile against her breast, but there was no change in his actions. He continued that leisurely circle of her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. She gasped, but it wasn’t enough. So when he pulled back, her breast escaping his lips on a pop, she jerked her arms free. Then before he could react, she pulled her night rail off.

She was naked and unashamed. In truth, the fire he had stoked in her body gave her an authority she’d never felt. So she leaned down and took his face in her hands, and she spoke one word as a command.

“More.”

His nostrils flared, and his hands slid to her rib cage below her breasts. He tightened his hold and slowly lifted her. She unfolded her legs as he gently laid her on her back. Then he pushed into the breach, gently widening her legs as he settled himself atop.

He placed himself carefully, a groan rumbling through him as he rubbed against her. It was what he had done before, and her eyelids fluttered at the roar of sensation. But again, it was not enough.

So she squeezed his arms, her hands wrapped as far as possible around his thick biceps. “Not like this,” she said. They had done this before, and he’d said she was still a virgin. She wanted to be claimed in every way. This was her decision, and she would not accept anything else. “Not—oh!”

He was rubbing against her, sliding his cock over her most private place. Her body shuddered, the wet slide incredible. But it was not what she wanted. It was not enough.

So she grabbed his ears, turning him to look at her in the most forceful way she knew how. She could tell she’d startled him as his entire body stilled. That gave her enough time to lift her knees, to arch her back, and to shift. But it still wasn’t enough. His weight was keeping her too restricted. And his every breath had him rocking against her enough to make her body tighten with hunger.

“Take me,” she whispered.

“Marry me,” he returned.

Her breath caught, but his gaze remained steady. His expression was fierce, and even the slow press of his groin stilled. He meant it.

“You don’t need to propose,” she said. “I will be your mistress.”

His jaw hardened, and his eyes blazed. “Marry me.”

Did he think she would refuse? She would give him anything. And she would say yes now, knowing full well that he would change his mind later. It didn’t matter. She loved him. She would give him whatever he wanted.

“Yes.”

He swooped down for a kiss—hard and possessive. She opened to it, and she lifted her knees, doing her best to ready herself.

Then he slowly raised himself up, his forehead pressed against hers. “I can wait,” he said. “We needn’t do this now.” But as he spoke, he tilted his hips. His cock slid between her thighs until it pressed against her wet core. She trembled even as she tried to lift herself onto him. She wanted him to take her. She wanted to be owned by this man in the most primal way.

“I can’t wait,” she said. “Radley, please.”

He pushed in slowly. A thickness and a heat sliding inside. He groaned, and she looked at his face. His eyes fluttered, and his mouth opened on a gasp that he stopped mid-breath. Then he pressed in a little more.

Oh! He was big. It felt good, but… a lot. A lot to feel, a lot to push inside, and a lot of time to wonder if he was too much.

“Radley…” she whispered.

His gaze was on hers, his eyes dark and fierce. Then he thrust. Hard, quick—a sharp pierce of pain shot through her abdomen. She cried out, startled and shocked. She had known there might be pain. Of course, she knew, but Helaine had told her it was nothing. Penny had said so too.

“Wendy? God, I’m sorry. Is it bad?”

She swallowed, feeling him deeply embedded. He pushed up on his arms, keeping his weight off her—for which she was grateful. But as he looked at her, as her body stretched and accepted him, she began to settle. Where she’d been tight with tension, she relaxed. Where her body had arched in withdrawal, she shifted to accommodate. In fact, every piece of her rearranged itself around him.

So this was why virginity was so important, she realized. Once given to a man, everything reorganized to accept him, to surrender to him, to be with
him
.

“I’m yours now,” she said with awe.

He swallowed, and she felt him pulse inside her. He didn’t mean to. She could tell by the way his eyes widened and sweat beaded on his brow.

“I’m trying to stay still, Wendy. But… should I pull out?”

She stroked the hair off his face. Time felt suspended. Her blood simmered, her body stretched impossibly tight, but her happiness made everything softer. And joyous.

“Don’t go,” she said. “Show me the rest.”

“Are you sure? I can’t go slow.”

She shifted her hips. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a movement that happened. But the second she shifted, pleasure began to build inside her. He groaned, the sound rumbling into her.

He leaned down, kissing her fiercely. She responded with a fire all her own as she held his face and dueled. And as they fought—tongue to tongue—his cock withdrew.

She tightened her thighs, not wanting him to leave. Her belly was caving in from the emptiness, and she squeezed to keep him in place. It didn’t help. He was stronger, and his tongue possessed her with a new frenzy.

Then he stopped. He broke the kiss enough for their breaths to rasp in the tiny space between them. His cock was nearly out, his body poised on the edge.

He thrust forward. The impact was hard, and her body seemed to burst with the power. She gasped, her back arching.

That was wonderful!

He’d frozen above her, and when she opened her eyes, he was studying her with a worried frown.

“Wendy?”

“Do that again.”

He did. He pulled out slowly, torturing her with the incremental compression of her belly. But this time she knew what he was doing, knew that the further back he went, the more—He slammed forward again.

She cried out as pleasure burst through her.

“Again!”

This time was not so slow. This time his control seemed as ragged as his breath. He seemed to jerk half out, then nearly all the way. And then…

Yes!

“More!”

He complied. He did everything she wanted without her even asking.

He thrust into her over and over. She threw her head back, she angled her pelvis, and she gripped him with every part of her.

Slam after slam, while her body tightened, and her vision shot through with white sparks.

More—Yes—
Detonation!
Her body seized, hovering on the edge, before everything exploded in a wave of pleasure. He felt it too—he must have because he cried out at his deepest thrust. He shuddered while another explosion rolled through her. Heat and fire.

Pleasure and joy.

And underneath it all—love. An ocean of love.

“Your grace! Your grace!”

Radley came awake slowly, the lethargy of a sated body holding him under much too long. That, and the tart, lemony scent of Wendy filling his nostrils. He was wrapped around her, her body spooned against his belly, and her glorious hair spread across the pillow they shared. His nose was pressed to her neck, and he nuzzled her, his cock stirring enough to distract him from whatever had woken him.

“Mmmm,” he said.

“Your grace!”

He frowned, the noise disrupting his lustful thoughts. Not for long. Wendy stirred against him, but the damn knocking began again.

“What?” The barked question startled Wendy into full alertness. She gasped and stiffened, but he held her still. “Shhh,”

“Your grace, a Mr. Knopp is at the door. He says it’s an emergency.”

Radley jolted with surprise. “I’m coming! Get him whatever he wants.”

A lifetime aboard ship had trained him in dressing with lightning speed even at… he groaned… barely after six in the morning. Wendy, apparently, had similar training. She was out of bed as well, pulling on her night rail nearly as quickly as he.

A damned shame to cover all that beauty, but Mr. Knopp wouldn’t say it was an emergency lightly. Radley had on pants and grabbed his shirt when he saw Wendy pause, her eyes wide. It took him a moment to realize what she was staring at: he’d strapped on his daggers—two long ones set in special holsters that crisscrossed his chest.

“It’s a precaution,” he said to reassure her. “I’m sure they won’t be necessary.” In truth, he’d grabbed them out of habit, not intention. But having now noticed them, he wasn’t going to take them off. He simply covered them with a shirt, though damn, these stupid ducal shirts were too long. He’d have to cut slits in the sides for better access to the knives. Or rather, he’d have to do that if he were going into a fight, which he wasn’t. Because, of course, this wasn’t aboard a ship, and they weren’t about to be attacked by pirates.

He finished buttoning his shirt, then stepped forward to touch her shoulders. “It’s habit that made me put them on, nothing more.”

She nodded. “But there’s an emergency. At six in the morning.”

“Go back to bed, Wind. I’ll wake you if—”

She stiffened. “I will join you downstairs in a moment. I usually wake at this time anyway.”

That might be true, but not after they’d spent most of the night making love. Neither had more than a couple hours of sleep at best. Not that he could regret the reasons for their exhaustion. He stroked her cheek then couldn’t stop himself from pressing in for a kiss that ended too soon.

“If you must,” he finally said, “but I must go.” Then he went to the door, opening it a tiny crack to peer out. The hall was empty so he pulled it wide. She moved quickly to her bedroom, slipping inside without a backward glance. He didn’t have time to worry about that. She had said she’d marry him. She’d said she loved him. They had their whole lives to work out the details of their relationship, and right now, his former employer waited below with an emergency.

So, with a last longing look at her door, he turned and rushed downstairs. He found Knopp and Seelye in the parlor. Mr. Knopp was sitting down, a delicate teacup in his shaking hands. Seelye stood discreetly nearby, holding another cup for Radley.

“Good man,” he said as he grabbed the steaming coffee. He downed it in three gulps despite the burn then silently held it out for more.

Meanwhile, Knopp pushed to his feet. “There’s been an attack on the clipper. It’s gone. The men too.”

Simple. Direct. And it completely blanked Radley’s mind. “What?”

Knopp waited a moment, his shoulders drooping. For the first time, Radley saw the man’s age, vitality fading before his eyes.

“It happened just after one. I got the news a few hours later. Been trying to find the men on watch. If any escaped, mayhap they went home. I went by Henry’s place, but no one was there. Do you know where his family is?”

“Here,” Radley whispered.

“What?”

Radley fought to keep his mind moving, his words clear. “His family. They live here, sir.” Then he looked at Seelye. Had Henry appeared sometime in the night? It was an illogical thought, but he was grasping at straws.

The butler gave a discreet shake of his head. And, in that moment, Wendy appeared. She was dressed in a simple workwoman’s gown of faded green. Her hair was tied neatly back, and her face seemed freshly scrubbed. But her eyes were too wide as she looked at the three men before her.

Radley went to her side, touching her arm to guide her to a seat. She didn’t need help, of course. She didn’t know the news yet, but he needed to touch her. He needed to understand. He needed to…

“There were five men on watch,” he said as much to himself as Knopp.

“Yes.”

“And you found…?”

The man cleared his throat. “Uh, perhaps the details can wait.”

Of course. Wendy didn’t need to hear the gory aftermath of a battle, but…

He looked at Mr. Knopp. “They were all trained men. Fighting sailors. And I warned them!”

Knopp’s eyes abruptly narrowed. “You warned them? You knew what was coming?”

“Yes! No! Bloody hell!” He rubbed his hand over his face. Which was when Wendy tightened her grip on Radley’s hand. She hadn’t fully sat down yet, but now, she straightened to her full height.

“What has happened?” Her voice was calm, but there was steel beneath.

Mr. Knopp deflated again as he looked at her. Worst part of an owner’s job: talking to the family.

“Miss Drew, I have terrible news.”

“Henry.”

“The clipper was attacked last night. It appears as if Henry was lost.”

She closed her eyes. No sound. No cry. Just a single tear—then more—leaking from her eyes. Radley rushed to reassure her.

“We don’t know what happened. There is still hope.”

Mr. Knopp cleared his throat, the sound tight and angry. Radley looked over and saw the reason on the man’s scowling face. He didn’t believe Henry was alive, and therefore, saw no reason to give Wendy false hope.

But they were trained fighters! And they’d been warned. How could they have lost? Damn it, they’d survived battles at sea against the worst pirates spawned on earth. How could they have lost while at dock in London?

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Radley!” Knopp snapped. “Damn it, man, do you think I’d lie about something like this?”

“No, sir! But… But…”

“Contact Mr. Morrison,” interrupted Wendy. “That’s Penny’s husband. He’s a Bow Street runner—”

“Already did. He’s there now at the dock, but…” The elderly man stepped forward, gently taking Wendy’s hands. “Miss Drew, you must understand. There’s been no mistake.”

“But you came here,” she said softly. “Why?”

“I was looking for Henry. On the slim hope that he escaped.”

She looked to Seelye, and the man was forced to shake his head again. It was a futile exchange. They all knew Henry wasn’t here.

Meanwhile, Radley’s brain had finally started working. He looked to his butler. “Wake Bernard. Get him down here. I want to know exactly what he said to Henry, what he saw.”

“I’m already here,” said a low voice from the hallway. Everyone looked over to see Bernard, his face haggard as he stepped into the room. “I heard Wendy come down. I… followed.” Then, before Radley could ask, he started answering questions. “I told him exactly what you said. That Wendy was in danger, and she feared for his safety. That he was to stay on board and keep watch. That Mama, Wendy, and I would be here.” Then he looked to his sister. “I tried to explain about the Demon. I tried to tell him the danger…”

Wendy looked away. “He didn’t believe you. Not really.”

“No.”

“No one believes,” she said, her voice dull. “Until it’s too late.” And then, it was as if her strength had left her. Her knees softened, and she simply folded into herself. If Radley hadn’t been right there, she would have fallen to the floor. But he caught her. He guided her into the chair. And then, he finally understood.

She wasn’t surprised. She’d seen the depth of Damon’s violence. Bernard had too. They’d tried to tell Radley, to tell Henry, to tell someone, but that was the way with civilized monsters. No one believed that such an evil could exist. No one thought it possible until it was too late.

Meanwhile, Knopp touched his arm. “Who is Demon Damon? And why the hell would he burn my ship?”

Not a simple question, and not something he meant to answer in front of Wendy. So he quietly shook his head, then glanced to Bernard. “I’m going to the boat. You will stay here and protect them.” He looked to Seelye. “Are there men here who can defend themselves? Weapons?”

Seelye’s jaw went slack, shock written in his every line. Radley simply glared.

“I underestimated this bastard once.” Twice actually, given what had happened to his sister so many years ago. “I won’t do it again.”

Seelye’s stance firmed up as he gave a crisp nod. “I believe there are some men I could contact.”

“No. We’ll use my men. I’ll give you the names and what to say. Bring me paper and ink. I’ll write down the names for you.”

The butler left to do as he was bid. Meanwhile, Radley turned his attention to Wendy. She sat there unmoving, barely breathing. Guilt and shame twisted in his gut. To think he had been in bed seducing Henry’s sister, while the man had been fighting for his life. Against Radley’s foe! Goddamn, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t!

And yet, looking at Wendy, he knew she had already accepted it. How much had she suffered at this bastard’s hands that she could so numbly believe in her brother’s murder? Good God, why hadn’t he listened when she warned him? Even his message to Henry had been nearly casual.
I’ll protect your family. You keep watch on the boat.
He hadn’t believed Damon had fighters who could take down a boat at dock. The idea was ludicrous, but all he had to do was look at Wendy to know it was true.

She was the strongest woman he’d ever known, and yet, she became silent in terror with Damon. And Radley had simply brushed it off as womanly ignorance.

He was a fool. And Henry had paid the price. Wendy was still paying. And his sister had suffered a decade ago.

He crouched before Wendy, gently drawing her eyes to his. “I’m going to the docks. I have to… I have to see it for myself. You’re safe here. Bernard is going to stay, and there are men coming to protect the house. You won’t be harmed.”

She blinked, then her eyes slowly narrowed. It was a subtle change. He saw her slow inhale of breath, only to see her release it in a controlled exhale. Nothing unusual, but this was his Wind. And he knew a calm before the storm.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Bernard should stay with mother. She will need him.”

“And you,” Radley said clearly. “He is staying with you.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she lowered her eyes. “Of course. With me as well.”

A lie. Damn it, a bald-faced lie. He had no idea what the woman planned, but she was thinking of doing something.

“Wendy, you need to trust me.”

She raised her gaze, her eyes blazing with fury. He winced, knowing what she was thinking. She had trusted him yesterday. She had come to his home, she had dressed as a duchess, and she had gone to a ball. And after that, she had gone to his bed. And all the while her brother had been fighting for his life.

She had trusted him, and now, her brother was dead.

“You’re right,” he said, even though she hadn’t spoken. “I was a fool. I—” His voice choked off. “But I can…” He was going to say he could fix things, but he couldn’t. Her brother was likely dead. “I should have listened better. I should have learned more.”

“You should have believed me when I said it was too late. I should never have gone with you.”

“Wrong!” He gripped her hands tight enough to make her wince. “You belong with me.” Then he gentled his grip, but his words were no less fierce. “We can figure this out. But hear me, Wendy. You will not go to that bastard. You will not sacrifice yourself.”

“No, sister, you will not.” That was Bernard, his voice hard and—when they turned to him—his face tight with fury. Radley had seen that look before, that moment when a boy shifted into manhood. Bernard was the baby of the family, cosseted too long. No more. The child had become a man.

Wendy sighed. “Bernard—”

“This was my debt, my problem, and I drew you into it.” His voice cracked, but his stance remained strong.

“And did he trick you into it?” she asked. “Was your drink tampered with? The game false?”

He watched as Bernard’s jaw firmed. “I still played. I still lost. And I still ran to you—”

“You had to come to me. Mama doesn’t make any money.”

Radley fit the pieces together. Damn, he was thinking too slowly! “So it has always been about you?” he asked Wendy. “You think Bernard was tricked into debt to get to you?”

She nodded.

“But why?”

Bernard snorted in derision. “You draw pictures of her for ten years, send her gifts through Henry, and you still ask? Damon has been here all that time. He has seen who she is and what she can do. Of course, he wants her!”

Radley felt his face heat in shame. The boy was right. “But that’s a lot of work to get a woman. A lot.” Certainly, Wendy was worth it, but… it was hard to comprehend. Unless, of course, trickery was part of one’s character. If it were simply a matter of course to taint drinks and fix games, then it would be no more difficult to target Bernard than it would be to order lunch. And, if that man were also capable of murder, the only question was how Wendy had resisted so long. How had she kept herself and her family free for as long as she had?

He was about to say as much when the knocker sounded. Seelye had barely finished setting down the paper and ink, and so now had to rush to the door. Radley and Wendy straightened, already following. In their minds was the hope that Henry had somehow—Not Henry. A man with wild hair and a dirty coat of good quality. He was halfway to handing his hat to the butler when he caught sight of Mr. Knopp, who had also come to the doorway in hope.

“Ah, there you are. Haven’t the best news, I’m afraid, but I’ve been thinking as I made it here. Been a devil of a lot of fuss for you, Miss Drew. You’re a handsome woman and all that, but there’s something more. Obsession never focuses without reason. Why you, I ask. And how can we turn that against him?”