Betina Krahn Page 12

  “Diamond mine … you haven’t changed a bit.” Paine panted, staring at her with eyes that were dark-centered and struggling to focus. Holding her breath, she pushed back further.

  “You haven’t changed, either.” She had to turn her head to breathe something besides alcohol fumes. “It’s all right, Jeffreys.” She spotted the glowering butler. “I’ll see to Mr. Webster myself.” As Jeffreys and the stable hand withdrew, she realized Bear was standing by the staircase, looking as if he might intervene at any second. She worked to remove Paine’s hands from her person. “Please, Paine, I have company.”

  The sense of what she said must have penetrated. He looked up, spotted Bear’s formidable frame, and released her.

  “Sorry, sweet th-thing … had no idea.” He pulled down his waistcoat and squared his shoulders, staggering toward Bear with his hand outstretched. “Look f-famil-i-ar, ol’ man. Have we met?” Bear hesitated, glancing at her, before taking it.

  “Barton McQuaid,” he said.

  “Paine Webs-ster. At your s-service.” Paine bowed so extravagantly over their joined hands that he was in danger of toppling over.

  Diamond rushed to put her arm through his and steady him. “Why don’t we go into the drawing room and have a seat.” With a wince of apology in Bear’s direction, she steered Paine toward the drawing room. But halfway to the door he remembered something and reversed course, dragging her with him.

  “Almos-st forgot. This is-s for you, Diamond mine.” He pulled her back to the trunk, fumbled with the latch, and finally threw back the lid.

  Inside was fabric, a veritable king’s ransom in exotic and remarkable textiles. Embroidered satins, brocades, lush moirés, and sheer silk veiling. Most of it was cream or ivory, and she watched with mounting dread as he reached into the trunk and pulled out one bolt after another, holding them up to her and sending the sheer fabrics billowing and the heavier ones unrolling like a priceless carpet on the floor around her. By the time he reached the halfway point in the trunk, she knew exactly what was happening and tried to stop him.

  “It’s all beautiful, Paine. But please”—she reached for his arm—“you’re in no condition—”

  It was too late.

  “For your wedding gown and trous-s-seau. Spent weeks s-searching the markets of Singapore. Th’ finest s-silks money can buy. Nothing but the bes-st for my bride.”

  He reeled to his feet and took her by the shoulders. His face was naked with need, but not the sort of need a man feels for a woman. This was a starved-child look, a boyish plea for approval and affection. Diamond’s distress at witnessing it must have been disastrously visible, for he quickly loosened his grip on her and resumed his devil-may-care manner.

  “Talk makes me thirs-sty,” he declared, heading for the liquor cabinet in the drawing room.

  She looked at the lush array of fabrics spread at her feet, at the back of the man who had brought them halfway around the world to her, then at the man who had only moments ago held her in his arms. Flushing with confusion, she headed for the drawing room and stopped just inside the door. Paine had invaded their little-used liquor cabinet and was pouring a huge tumbler of brandy.

  “Have you had anything to eat?” she asked. “We just finished dinner and it would be no trouble to—”

  “No, no … wouldn’t put you out. Not hungry, really. Just thirs-sty.” He flashed her a wicked grin and raised his glass in salute as he sauntered drunkenly to the sofa, perched on the arm, and slid down it to a seat.

  “Have you been home lately? When was the last time you ate?”

  “What day is-s-it?” he asked with an unfocused grin.

  She decided to take the glass from him, but he read her intention, downed the rest in a few gulps, and surrendered it to her empty.

  “So, who’s your friend over there—whas-s his name again?” Paine asked, squinting at Bear, who was leaning a shoulder against the door frame and glowering. “Anyone your future hus-sband should know about?”

  “Paine Webster,” she said, glaring at him. “As soon as you pass out, I’m going to scoop you up, pour you into your carriage, and send you straight home.”

  “Heartles-s-s creature.” He grinned as he felt the numbing effect of the brandy creeping over him. “You’d never d-do that to me, sweetness. You love me too much.” When she forcefully folded her arms, he smiled. “Do me a favor, Diamond Mine. S-see my clothes are cleaned and p-pressed? Think what a shock it will be to th’ family to see me hauling home after a three-day b-bender, looking as neat as a new p-penny.” He smiled and closed his eyes as if relishing the image. His eyes didn’t reopen.

  A moment later his head drooped and he sagged sideways against the arm of the sofa. She called his name and lifted his head. It rolled off her hand.

  “You would do this to me,” she muttered, “with Hardwell and Hannah due home anytime and—” With Bear McQuaid standing in the doorway, watching … with his kisses still warm on my lips.

  She looked up and found Bear observing her reaction through narrowed eyes. The heat that bloomed in her face when she turned back to Paine was as much resentment as it was chagrin. The moment between her and Bear McQuaid was gone and she had dissolute, loose-lipped Paine Webster to thank for it.

  “I have to get him upstairs.” Taking refuge in activity, she discarded the empty glass and reached for one of Paine’s arms. “If Hardwell and Hannah find him here they will be furious.”

  “I vote you put him back on the horse he rode in on and send him home.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t get a vote,” she said, stooping to drape Paine’s arm around her neck. When Bear didn’t move, she screwed up her courage and looked up at him. The darkness in his expression settled on her heart like a stone. She resorted to her standard offer.

  “If you’ll help, I can make it worth your while.”

  He straightened, his scowl deepening. “I get to name my price, again?”

  She refused to think about what had just happened in the library or the alarming sense of loss she felt. She was up to her eyeballs in promises she couldn’t keep now. What was one more?

  “Fine. Name your price. Now will you come and take his other arm?”

  As they struggled up the stairs with Paine’s limp, unwieldy form, Bear observed the effectiveness of Diamond’s technique: Paine’s arm around the neck and a solid hold of the back of his trouser waist. Not exactly the sort of thing taught in debutante training.

  “I take it you’ve done this before.”

  “Once or twice,” she said breathlessly.

  “You let men come to your house to pass out from three-day drunks?” He was breathing hard, as well. “How accommodating of you.”

  “Not men. Just him. He needs help, and I can’t—”

  “Say no,” he finished for her.

  “Can’t turn him away in his hour of need,” she finished for herself, scowling over at him. “We have been friends … for as long as I can recall. We grew up together. His family did business with my father.”

  There was a brief, charged silence.

  “Those people at the gates … you grew up with them, too?”

  She experienced a confusing sense of embarrassment that had to do with the fact that he had seen not only the people at her gates, but Paine’s outrageous imposition on her. She was helping them, she told herself. What did she have to be embarrassed about?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

  “Ridiculous is doing whatever anybody asks of you,” he said, wrapping both arms around Paine to hold him up while she opened a bedroom door.

  “I don’t do whatever anybody asks of me.” She tried to resume her place under Paine’s arm, but he warned her off.

  “I’ve got him,” he said on a growl. “Just lead the way.”

  A moment later, he dumped Paine on the bed in the darkened guest room and turned to stare at her with his fists propped on his waist.

  “You trot out food to whoever shows up at your door
. You buy worthless inventions just because people ask you to. You put up drunks in your guest room. Robbie was right about you. You just can’t say no.”

  “Robbie said that to you?” She paused for a second, stung by the fact that Robbie, whom she had welcomed into both her home and her heart, would say such a thing about her to a total stranger. Biting her lip, she turned to the bed, surveyed the messy figure sprawled across the counterpane, then rolled him up onto his side to peel his coat from him. “That’s absurd. I can refuse anything I wish, any time I wish.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” His gaze fastened on her grip on Paine’s coat.

  “Removing his blasted coat and shirt. They’ll need to be cleaned and—” When he gave a sharp laugh, she straightened. “What is so amusing?”

  “There’s your proof. He comes to your house, dead drunk, passes out, and instructs you to have his clothes cleaned for him while he sleeps it off.” The molten heat of his gaze caused her face to catch fire. “And you actually do it.”

  “He was teasing,” she said, caught between chagrin at seeing her actions in another, insightful light and a need to defend her right to help Paine.

  “Was he?” He paused, searching her face in the dim light coming from the hallway and delivered the coup de grâce. “Judging by how seriously you take his ‘teasing’ … let me be the first to offer congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

  Her face burned. “I do not intend to marry Paine Webster.”

  “He thinks you do.”

  “He’s wrong.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Kenwood would be relieved to hear that.”

  “Morgan? What does he have to do with—”

  “He informed me this afternoon that you and he are promised.”

  “He said that to you?” She froze.

  “He did. And by my count, that gives you one fiancé too many.”

  She looked up and met his eyes, unable to move or to speak. Her knees suddenly went weak.

  “You really can’t say no, can you?” he charged quietly.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, around the panic collected in her throat.

  “I understand all too well.” He took a step closer.

  She took a step back.

  He took another step toward her and brought a hand up to cradle her chin.

  She couldn’t make herself resist. The horror of being discovered in bigamous engagements was dissolving in a surge of complex, contradictory feelings … about her way of doing things … about her newly emerged sensual feelings … about her fascination with him. Things got more complicated still when he closed the remaining distance between them and slipped one arm around her waist.

  “All you have to do is tell me no.”

  She couldn’t. She was riveted by the glimmer of light in his eyes. Her arms hung at her sides as he pulled her fully against him.

  “Say no and I’ll stop,” he murmured, releasing her face and running his hand down the side of her neck.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as his touch drifted down her side, grazing the side of her breast. When his hand curled possessively around her waist, confusion boiled up in her. She told herself she remained silent because she refused to be bullied into responding to his demand. But she knew full well that her silence also had to do with the fact that she didn’t want to say no to him.

  “It’s not hard. Two little letters. N-O.” He lowered his mouth and said it against her lips. “No.” Poured it over her mouth. “No.”

  The moist furls of his breath caused her lips to tingle, and her head filled with the hot tang of musk spiced by a hint of wine. When her lips parted, she could taste him on every breath: winelike and salty sweet. Her whole body began to tremble.

  The stroke of his tongue across her lips was so warm and gentle that she could feel it melting her cool, protective edges. He seemed to be tasting her, exploring her even as she was him, and the sensations—so similar to those earlier pleasures—were somehow sweeter for their unlikeliness. Moments ago she had despaired of ever experiencing such pleasure again. Now she felt his presence saturating her senses, reviving her delight in the sensual, confirming the sensations that earlier had called forth deeply instinctive responses in her.

  She met his kiss fully, sinking into the softness of his mouth and against the enthralling hardness of his body. Her body warmed and became pliant, her skin felt sensitive and hungry for sensation. As her lips parted under his tongue, she returned its provocative strokes, examining herself and her responses even as she explored him. Long-sealed parts of her were opening to perception and awareness.

  She slid her arms around his waist and up his back, splaying her fingers over the thick fans of muscle that arched from his spine. Deep in her mind she welcomed and preserved each sensation, shivering at the way his moist lips drifted down the side of her neck and his tongue probed the notch at the base of her throat.

  Suddenly her fingers were sliding through his dark hair, memorizing its texture even as she cradled his head against her. When his hands cleared buttons and lace from the downward path of his kisses, she held her breath and then arched slightly to give him access.

  Pleasure spiraled downward through her, rousing her body … setting her breasts tingling and settling a sweet ache in her lower abdomen. Closer, she wanted to be closer to him … to feel him against her skin, to have him touch the rest of her as he was her waist and shoulders.

  Kiss after hungry kiss, his embrace tightened. Caress after caress, she felt his body hardening against hers, curling over and around hers. She molded to his frame, merging her shape with his, joining him in a seamless interplay of sensation and response. Following his example, she began to direct her kisses along a wider arc … nuzzling and tasting him, savoring the salty heat of his skin, and experiencing against her nose the faint tickle of his chest hair.

  Then, as she moaned softly and rubbed the burning tips of her breasts against him, he tugged down the rim of her corset and lowered his mouth to her nipple. Sharp flashes of pleasure raced along an undiscovered network of nerves that somehow linked all the sensitive peaks and hollows of her body. She gasped and held her breath, her eyes closed, seeing with her mind his bronzed head at her pale breast …

  Then somewhere in her recesses the sounds of voices registered, parting the fog of sensuality that shrouded her senses. She froze, listening and slowly broadening her awareness to include her location and condition.

  Sliding her head to the side, she ended another deep, soul-bending kiss. A moment later, she found herself on her back on the bed … inches away from Paine’s snoring form … wedged beneath Bears big, hard body … with her dress unfastened and her corset tucked to reveal the tip of one breast. Braced above her was Bear McQuaid, his vest and shirt unbuttoned, his eyes black with hunger and his lips swollen with the effects of a dozen shameless kisses.

  Horror struck as she recognized those voices and realized that they were growing louder. “Hardwell and Hannah,” she muttered hoarsely, staggering from the bed and groping frantically for buttons. “They’re home!”

  He buttoned only the top of his shirt, then jammed the rest into his trousers and pulled his vest together. She was still struggling with her garments, when he brushed her hands aside and finished for her, freeing her trembling hands to smooth and right her hair. The instant she was presentable, she headed for the hall, then turned back and grabbed him by the arm to pull him along.

  They were just past Robbie’s door, when her erstwhile guardians appeared at the top of the steps. Hardwell, still carrying his walking stick, and Hannah, just removing her gloves and reaching for her hat pin, hurried down the hall toward them.

  “Is he all right?” Hannah asked, looking past them, toward Robbie’s room.

  Robbie. Diamond flushed with horror. She hadn’t given her stricken charge a thought in over an hour. Turning back immediately, she opened the door to her cousin’s room and held her breath.

  In the d
imly lit room they found Robbie sleeping, albeit somewhat fitfully. After a reassuring moment around the bed, they tiptoed out in silence.

  “Poor little thing,” Hannah said when the door closed behind them. “He must have been scared out of his wits.”

  “Actually”—Diamond looked at Bear and found him watching her with virtually every emotion known to humankind blended into one tumultuous look—“he was frightened. But Mr. McQuaid was good enough to talk him out of it.”

  Hardwell turned to him, beaming. “What a useful fellow you’re turnin’ out to be, McQuaid. It seems we owe you yet another debt. How will we ever repay you?”

  The night breeze blew the fog from Bear’s senses as he drove his rented buggy back to Baltimore. He had weathered winters so cold that his whiskers froze and snapped off, without so much as a shiver. But the contrast of the unspent heat of his body and the chilled night air now set him quaking as if he had a raging fever. He could barely hold on to the reins.

  What in God’s name had he done back there? The sequence of events replayed in his mind, starting with the library. He groaned. Railroads—they had been talking about railroads. And investing. It had been the perfect opportunity to raise the possibility of her investing in his railroad. But then they began to argue and somehow he went from lecturing her on the realities of laying track out West to kissing her. Then that idiot Webster showed up … and he got furious with her and her inability to say no and decided to make her say it.

  And the rest of the night went to hell in a handcar!

  Or to heaven.

  Dammit. It was a golden opportunity to fund his lifelong dream and he had just kissed it good-bye. Literally.

  By the time he reached the outer limits of Baltimore, his temperature and his passions had cooled, leaving him with a sober new view of his predicament.

  He had gone to see her with the best of intentions and had found himself wading through throngs of beggars at her gates, coping with arrogant horse breeders, rescuing reckless ten-year-old hellions on horseback, dealing with chicken pox and doctors and telephones, helping her put habitual drunks to bed, and being warned off by two men who both claimed to be marrying her. But the worst of it was that after tonight, his vow to keep his dealings with her strictly business was forfeit.