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“And I’ve taken care of all that. Your reputation is safe, your cousin mollified, and now all we have to do is figure out where to hide you.”
“Hide me!” She stared at him. “Have you gone mad? Why on earth should I have to hide anywhere, and why did you take it upon yourself to make explanations to Jacqueline? What did you tell her? She must wonder where I am and why I left like I did—which is what I’m wondering myself. Who were those men and why did you bring me here?”
“I brought you here,” he said as he crossed the room, “because it’s the one place I knew they wouldn’t look for you. And even if they did, Webster is armed and capable of keeping secrets.”
“Who are they, and who is Webster? Really,” she said with growing exasperation, “this seems so unnecessary. I’ve no need to hide from cutpurses, especially not here.”
“You don’t like it here? Odd, it’s one of the most popular, frequently visited spots in London. But perhaps you’re right. It’s not exactly the sort of establishment you can mention in polite company. As fetching as that blanket is on you, my love, I think you’re going to need to wear clothes that cover up all that tempting bare flesh.”
His dark blue gaze seemed to penetrate the blanket she held almost to her chin, and she felt a hot flush scour her face. “I told you,” she said sharply to cover her sudden embarrassment, “that I am going home to my cousin. If my clothes are ruined, you can find me another dress.”
“I think I liked it better last night when you couldn’t speak at all, but at least the medicine worked.” His mouth curled in a mocking smile at her angry hiss. “You needed it. It relaxed you, and nothing bad happened. You know, with your green eyes slitted at me like that, you look remarkably like a cat, love. That’s good, because you’re going to need to put on a show if we’re to escape notice.”
“What are you talking about now? Escape? A show?”
“I hope your acting has improved.” He moved past her to a tall armoire set into the wall, and flung open the doors. A row of gowns dangled from hooks—red silks, satins, demure muslin and a taffeta gown in bright yellow hung like wilted flowers. “Here.” He reached inside, grabbed the taffeta gown and tossed it to her. “Put this on and see if it fits. If not, Madame can alter it for you.”
She’d caught the dress, a reflexive action, then had to grab at the blanket as it slipped from her breasts.
“I have no intention of wearing this ugly thing!” She threw it to the floor. “If you expect me to go along with whatever scheme you’ve concocted, you’d best tell me what it is or I refuse to step a foot outside this room.”
A dark brow cocked, and his grin widened. “Madame wouldn’t mind having a new girl in her stable, I suppose, though after the first few nights you might change your mind about your new vocation.”
He moved toward her, two steps bringing him close.
“Should I interview you for the position? Which do you prefer, love, on your back or—”
“Stop it!” She retreated a step, her heart thumping alarm when he followed with a determined glint in his eye. “Why are you doing this? I don’t know what’s going on or why I was brought here, or even why those men attacked me. And you aren’t making things any clearer.”
“They’ll be clear soon enough. I know it’s a lot to expect you to trust me, but you really don’t have any choice right now, Celia.”
He reached for the blanket she held tightly, and pulled it free despite her grip and protests.
“What are you—oh!”
As the blanket slid to the floor, Colter drew Celia to him, his hands sliding around her back to pull her hard against his body. She felt his muscles tighten when she put her hands on his arms.
“Please,” she said, and hated the way she sounded so breathless. “If you’ll only tell me what’s happening and why I’m here…”
“I will, love. I will.” He lifted her in his arms, took her the few steps to the wide bed still mussed from the night and dumped her on it. “Has anyone ever told you how appealing you are with your hair all loose and tumbling over your shoulders like that? It’s a bloody shame females keep their hair in tight coils, when it’s much more alluring like this…a cloud of raw silk, the same color as honey.”
He’d lifted a curl of her hair in his fist, his hands not ungentle as his fingers tunneled through to push it back from her face. Leaning over her, there was an intently fierce expression on his face, his eyes a dark, glittering blue as he stared down at her.
“Open your legs for me, Celia,” he said softly, and she thought for a moment that her ears were playing tricks on her. But then his hand moved with swift certainty over her body, not as it had the night before, but more intimate now, touching her breasts, moving lower to her belly and then below to tease the nest of curls between her thighs.
“If you’re going to play the part, perhaps you should have more instruction first, my sweet.” His voice was soft, husky, and he lay down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress so that she slid closer.
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It was oddly arousing to lie naked next to him while he was still fully clothed, but she felt vulnerable, too, and began to shake her head uncertainly. He threw his leg across her thighs when she tried to move away.
“No, don’t resist. You don’t really want to, and we’ve done this before so there’s no harm, is there? You enjoyed it then, didn’t you, love. Now it will be even better for you…yes, let me kiss you there…”
His tongue flicked over the taut peak of her breast in a hot, damp stroke, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the piercing sweetness of it. His hand caressed her as his lips closed over her breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth, a strong suction that sent shivers of heat through her entire body. Oh God…it must be the residue of the medicine he’d given her, for she found it difficult to think, to resist as his hands moved over her so intimately, shaping her other breast in his palm, thumb and finger tugging at the nipple in a deliciously erotic play. A pulse began to beat between her thighs, strong and hot, and she moaned softly.
Colter tangled one hand in her hair and kissed her on the lips, fiercely, his mouth a bruising pressure. Then she felt his tongue in her mouth, seeking, and she returned his kiss at last, her hands moving to clutch at him, fingers curled into his shirt to hold him tightly.
Oh, no! What was he doing now? Confused, she felt him move back, part her legs with his hands on her inner thighs, fingers sliding down to touch her, then slip beneath her to lift her slightly. Then, shockingly, he lifted her legs over his shoulders and held her there, his hands moving to her breasts again, fingers teasing her nipples until she muffled a cry with her knuckles pressed against her lips and teeth as his mouth found her.
