AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Eleanor!” snapped Marston. “You must stay awake for me, do you understand? You cannot go to sleep, not yet.”
A palm tapped against her cheek, and she opened her eyes, confused. She was back in the ballroom. Sweet music drifted on the air, and everything was edged in a soft nimbus of golden light.
Marston hauled her up against his side and led her away. She protested, wanting to go back and look at the lights, but he was too strong. “Fetch Lord Wincanton at once,” she heard him say. “Tell him it is a matter of extreme urgency and bring him back with you.”
The light receded farther as they again began to move. Time slowed as she struggled to keep her feet beneath her. Just when she thought she couldn’t move another step, the world tilted on its side. Giving in to gravity, she laid down. Something cool brushed across her forehead and cheeks. She didn’t much care for it. It interfered with the warmth wrapped around her. Blurred sounds reached her as though from a long way away. A distant door closed, and there were more voices.
Someone was terribly angry. For some reason it didn’t frighten her. In fact, it made her very, very happy. More movement. She was floating. It was just like one of those queer flying dreams she’d had as a child. She imagined herself lifting high above the treetops, flying up, up toward the moon.
So happy…
“I’ll have Yarborough’s stones for this,” Sorin muttered as Marston paid the servant and shut the door behind him. Eleanor lay in a stupor on a couch in one of Cleveland House’s salons, a faint smile on her lips.
“Worry about that later,” said his friend. Leaning over Eleanor, Marston lifted one of her eyelids, eliciting a weak protest. He cursed softly. “Her pupils are like pinpricks. The bastard dosed her with something, likely an opiate. We have to find Charles and—”
“No,” Sorin interrupted quickly. “If we tell Charles now, he’ll call Yarborough out.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m afraid I don’t really see how it can be avoided,” said Marston, shaking his head slowly. “There were witnesses.”
“Lady Ashford is with child, and the pregnancy is causing her a great deal of discomfort,” Sorin explained awkwardly. “The stress would endanger both her and the child. I’ll tell him everything later in private where we can decide how to handle the matter without her being the wiser. But first we must get Ellie out of here as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“Agreed,” said the other man after a moment. Again he bent to peel back one of Eleanor’s lids. “Considering that he was after her inheritance, I doubt Yarborough gave her enough of anything to put her in danger but—”
“I’ll send for a physician as soon as we get to Ashford’s house,” Sorin assured him. And then I’m going to hunt down Yarborough, run him through from bow to stern with a dull sword, and rub salt in his wounds.
“How may I be of assistance?”
The question brought Sorin back to the present. “Wait until after I get her out and then go find Charles. Tell him she fell ill and that I escorted her home. Assure him it’s nothing urgent, and above all mention nothing of Yarborough. I want no suspicions raised over her departure. I’ll stay with her until they arrive home.”
With Marston going ahead to ensure the path was clear, Sorin carried Eleanor through the servants’ corridors to better avoid encountering anyone they knew. He hardly breathed until they put her in his carriage. Propping Eleanor up in the opposite corner, he watched to make sure she didn’t fall as they began to move.
Everything went smoothly until they made the first turn out onto the street. Dislodged by the motion, Eleanor slumped and swayed dangerously. Leaping up, he went and sat beside her to prevent her tumbling onto the floor. A pothole then necessitated flinging an arm across her chest to hold her steady.
Turning with a deep sigh, Eleanor snuggled into him.
Panic, along with a tearing streak of desire, sucked all the breath from Sorin’s lungs. His mouth went dry as she mumbled something unintelligible, her lips parting less than a hand span from his. Very carefully, he tried to reposition her facing away so as to facilitate an escape to the safety of the other seat.
But the lady was having none of that. Now that she’d been roused to wakefulness, she seemed intent on seeking out human contact. He froze as she scooted closer—and laid back across his lap. Paralyzed, he waited, hoping she would subside back into a somnolent state.
Instead, she arched up, nuzzling against his chest and neck.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his cheek against the golden softness of her hair and inhaled deeply of her lavender scent. He was unlikely to ever have another chance to hold her. This would end in a moment, and she would never be this close to him again. He let her rest against him, content with her unknowing gift—until she reached up, pulled his head down, and covered his mouth with her own.
A shock of want lanced down from the point of contact all the way through his vitals to the seat of his desire, hardening him with dizzying, near-painful haste. The carriage jolted, and some devil-cursed instinct made his arms tighten around her, drawing her closer. His will unraveled as with a groan Eleanor opened her mouth farther and ran the tip of her tongue along the crease of his lips.
All restraint went straight to hell.
Pulling her hard against him, he gave free reign to his desire and kissed her with all the passion he’d withheld for so long, taking what she gave and returning it in full measure. His hands roamed, discovering her shape, skimming at will across her back and down her flanks, moving to cup perfect breasts barely covered by the low neckline of her gown.
She arched her back, and the gentle swells enticed him, their hardening peaks just visible beneath material pulled taut over them. At the brush of his thumb across one, the woman in his arms breathed a low moan against his lips. His heart hammered like a battering ram against his chest as her breath became fast and uneven.
Eleanor… Eleanor…
His hand wandered lower, finding the hem of her dress and running beneath it to caress a slim, stockinged calf, knee, and then thigh. He toyed with the garter for a moment before continuing up, driven by the need to touch her, to feel her silken flesh against his palm. She squirmed as he neared the juncture of her thighs, but she didn’t pull away, not even when his fingers brushed the soft curls that concealed her womanhood.
Cupping the plump, hot mound, he drew his thumb up along the delicate crease and heard her breath catch on a soft cry as he found the swollen jewel nestled within. Thrilling to the sound, he stroked the slick, sensitive bud until she writhed against him. Reaching down, she covered his hand with her own, urging him on.
She was ready. Slipping lower, he dipped a little farther and gently pressed, following the rhythm of her breathing until he felt her body stiffen in his arms and her passage clench. Covering her mouth with his own, he muffled her outcry even as he worked to prolong her climax.
