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Chapter Nineteen
Exhausted and exhilaratedfrom tracking down the French gutter rats, Dash climbed the marble stairs to the family rooms at Clifton house. Perdita waited for him only a few steps away. It didn’t matter that she might be asleep. What mattered was that all the lies and barriers between them were gone. He could finally claim her privately and publicly as he had intended three years ago. There would be a mild scandal caused by her fast marriage to the dark lord. It would quickly fade. And despite his reputation, he was still a catch as an earl with an old title and a now solvent, vast estate.
Reese, unflagging in his duty and used to late-night activities, had reported that a resting Dr. Needham was available to give Dash an update on Perdita and Roddy. Dash didn’t plan to disturb Needham or Roddy. He planned only to disturb Perdita by making her scream his name if he were a lucky bastard. Tension thrummed through his body in anticipation.
He should be at Abchurch “interviewing” the French spies that they had gathered up from the network he and his team had infiltrated. He had given close to three years of service to His Majesty in monitoring and misleading the French, and tonight was for embracing a victory on all fronts. The prisoners could wait one night to be “interviewed.” And what sane man would choose hours of intimidation, threats, and lies over Perdita? After being kidnapped, almost ravished, and fighting off three men, she was adamant that tonight she wanted them to be “together.”
And through the evening’s work, all he could think about was a naked Perdita waiting for him. Jones smirked a few times, guessing the reason for his distraction. Hell, everyone on the ship heard Perdita’s claim that she wanted Dash. He knocked lightly on Roddy’s door in case his friend was asleep. Before leaving for his mission, Dash had waited until Dr. Needham had examined and reported that both Perdita and Roddy would heal. Perdita had no obvious injuries except the lump on her head from the butt of a pistol. She claimed it was nothing, and she would recover after a hot bath and a meal. Perdita was too inexperienced, but Dash knew the demons would come later. She had been attacked, threatened, and held captive, and despite her strong constitution, it would take love and support to recover. Dash planned to give all in abundance.
There was no response to his knock at Roddy’s door. Dash peeked through the partially open door to catch a glimpse of Roddy in deep sleep. The laudanum that Dr. Needham prescribed was working. Dash wondered if he might find Perdita keeping bedside watch, but it was Miss Rothsby. With a book on her lap, her glasses perched on her nose, her head on her chest, she dozed. Interesting that she took it upon herself to look after Perdita’s brother.
Roddy had suffered extensive injuries from regular beatings, broken ribs, a concussion, and contusions all over his body. Needham postulated that he had swollen organs from the repeated blows. Roddy’s injuries were living proof of Fouche’s men’s brutal torture, which they delivered to an English peer on English soil.
Perdita barely escaped capture in those monsters’ hands. Thewhat-ifsconstricted Dash’s chest, making it hard to drag air into his lungs. If Perdita hadn’t been trained by Alfie, if Miss Rothsby hadn’t alerted them to the West Indies dock, and if he hadn’t arrived in time, Perdita would have suffered unimaginable treatment by the sadists. He couldn’t allow his mind to stray there, or he’d be paralyzed. The terror would keep him awake for months to come.
Dash moved silently, like any good spy, to Perdita’s room. He didn’t knock in fear of waking her but slowly opened the door, expecting he, like Miss Rothsby, would spend an uncomfortable night in a chair keeping watch over the patient.
His heart thrashed against his chest like a herd of thunderous stallions. An awake Perdita sat with pillows propped behind her back, her luxurious curls hanging around bare shoulders except for tiny straps of ribbons supporting a wisp of a lace bodice. All the blood from his brain drained south. Instantaneously he was hard. No finesse. His erection bulged against his breeches in blatant arousal.
“Dash.” She sounded breathless, and his control teetered on the brink.
“Darling, why aren’t you sleeping?” His voice came out strangled from the lack of air. Barely able to breathe or think, he was only aware of Perdita, her skin glowing, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. He was afraid to move, or he would jump on her in a very uncivilized manner or spread her out to taste and drink like an oasis to his parched soul. He had been lost and hungry for her forever.
“I slept for hours, but now I’m awake.”
Perdita scrambled out of bed and ran to him. Her arms spread open, and her wide smile lit with joy. Her excitement, familiar and yet so new, made his heart ache. Perdita was unaware of how the firelight shone through her French negligee, displaying her full, heavy breasts and the thatch of blonde hair hiding her femininity, igniting a burning inferno in him. She was a dangerous mix of fairy sprite and sensual seductress.
He stopped himself from dropping to his knees and thanking the gods for granting him the gift of Perdita. He didn’t deserve her, her goodness, her beauty, and her capacity to love even his most hardened soul. He planned to love her with every breath he held to the end of his life.
He lifted her into his arms and spun her in a circle, loving the sound of her laughter, the feel of womanly contours, the satin of her hair across his chest, and the waft of her vanilla scent.
“Oh, Dash, I was afraid you were going to be noble and not come to me. I need you. I need us. I refuse to allow the leers and laughs of those evil men to take any more from me. This is our time.”
Brave and clever Perdita wouldn’t stew in the darkness, and she wouldn’t allow him to either. She was dragging him into the light.
“I couldn’t stay away. I need you too badly.” He was trying hard not to push her to the wall and demonstrate his powerful need. He couldn’t stop himself from flexing his hips to press against her heat. A few more moves against her soft, female folds, and he’d be spilling his seed.
She deserved careful initiation in lovemaking with tenderness and affection. Not a fast and hard ride. He had imagined this moment for three very long years, and he couldn’t give in to the incessant voice in his head and in his roused body “to take hernow.”
“I never believed I would ever be this fortunate to hold you in my arms.” He raised the thick curtain of her curls to kiss the silky skin on her neck. “You are so damn beautiful and so damn brave. How did I get so lucky that no other man won your heart? I followed all the news about you. It was masochistic waiting to hear of your engagement to an upright peer. When Miss Rothsby told me of your passion for a Frenchman, I was lost. Knowing I didn’t deserve you, I was too selfish to ever let you go to any other man. I couldn’t step away a second time. I’ll make up all the hurt to you for the rest of my days.”
“You were spying on me?” She traced her finger along his lower lip. “I’m going to let you make it up to me starting tonight.”
He nipped her fingertip. “Nothing covert. Just the usual gossip.” He didn’t share how he had read all the society newspapers for any mention of her or Roddy.
Her hands came up to play in his hair at the base of his neck. “I’ve always been envious that you don’t have curls.”
Her touch was like a bolt of lightning fired down his spine, searing desire into every cell. Unable to stop, he flexed his hips and took one of her ripe nipples into his mouth and tugged through the delicate fabric. “One taste.”
She threw her head back, giving full access to her exquisite breasts. The wet fabric clung to her pale pink nipples darkening them. He could spend hours on her beautiful milky breasts, teasing her until she writhed beneath him.
He exhaled deeply, trying to get his raging desire under control. His primitive male brain shouted to push her down on the bed and fill her. Men were very simple beings, unlike women who needed thoughtful words, tender touches, and affection. She was too innocent to understand her barely hidden secrets and ripe nipples in the flimsy gown shattered his restraint. He blew out another breath.
She wiggled in his arms, pressing against his erection, testing all his discipline. “Are you feeling well?”
“I’m as good as a man who is ready to combust.” He pressed against her, unable to stop. “Your nightwear is not what I imagined…” He lifted her swollen breasts, weighing them between his hands. Loving her little gasps as she pressed against his hands.
“I’ve imagined us just like this… except my imagination can only take me so far. Take me to bed, Dash.”
