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“Was there something you needed?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“I want to know what that man is doing in my Castle.”
Lord! Not again!Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Now that she saw Rhys, she wanted to know that he was well. The anger and disappointment she had earlier felt had been replaced completely with fear, and the Dowager’s troubles were unending.
“I invited him,” Rhys answered.
“You invited a pugilist here?”
“I am a pugilist as well. Besides, Mr. Westwood is a gentleman, and you should not judge him by his profession.” Rhys offered Elizabeth his arm, and she immediately went to him. “He will stay here for however long he wishes, Grandmother.”
He did not wait for the Dowager to respond before he walked out with Elizabeth. They climbed the stairs in silence, but the air that surrounded them was heavy with what was troubling him.
Although she wanted to begin asking him every question she had the instant they were alone in their chambers, she refrained and allowed him to go to his dressing room to change when she saw him removing his coat. When he emerged, he was clean and looking considerably less weary than he had been earlier. The corner of his mouth turned up as his eyes roved her body. “That is a splendid blue dress you have on. Will you remove it for me?”
Elizabeth immediately knew he was trying to distract her from what was truly happening, but that did not stop the heat of desire from coursing to her most intimate regions. She stood and reached behind herself to the row of buttons on the back of her dress. Perhaps there was a better way of making him tell her what had him so perturbed, but first, she wanted him to forget his worries in her arms.
She unbuttoned her dress and slowly pulled it down her shoulders, watching his eyes blaze when the dress moved to expose her bare body. She knew he would appreciate her leaving her underthings off, and Elizabeth was greatly satisfied with the pleasure on his face. Past her hips, the dress fell to her feet in a pool of silk.
His darkened eyes moved all over her body as though they could not decide what they preferred to settle upon. He removed his banyan and stepped forward, completely naked, giving her a grin so wicked and seductive she felt tiny, delicious tingles all over her skin.
Biting her lip, Elizabeth turned and climbed on the divan, offering her posterior to him. Rhys groaned and muttered something sinful under his breath before he approached her, taking her chin and leaning to kiss her while his hand caressed the curves of her posterior.
“You are heaven, Liza.” He kissed a butt cheek. “Do you know that?”
He spanked her before she could answer, and a hiss was all that could move past her lips. He kissed her smarting skin before moving away from her.
“Rhys?” she mewled, turning her head to see him removing something from a chest of drawers against the wall closest to the bed. She shivered with excitement when he walked back toward her, his form glorious and so magnificently arousing.
He held up a string of pearls, and she laughed. “That is my necklace! I lost it the night my family and I dined with you in Guildford Manor.”
“I removed it while you whispered my name as if it was the best thing in the world,” Rhys murmured, returning to her.
“You stole it,” she corrected.
“Stealing from you is rather delightful.” He brought his lips to her ear. “And now you will know why I took your pearls.”
He touched the cold pearls to her posterior before striking her with them, and the precision gave her the most intense combination of pain and pleasure. She felt it all over her body, and she began to reach down to touch her sex while Rhys blew against her skin.
As she began to run her fingers around her slick center, Rhys used the pearls on the other side of her buttocks, and she cried out in pleasure, the sensation he created pushing her up toward ecstasy. His fingers replaced hers, and she was quickly lost to the sensual waves that flooded her body. He sat and pulled her on top of him, holding her while the spasms ebbed.
“Liza,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes?”
“I—” The word died on his lips, and he kissed her shoulder.
She drew back to look at him. “Did you want to tell me something?”
A languid smile graced his handsome face. “Simply that you are a goddess divine, and I am lost in your arms.”
That was not what he wanted to say, at least not all of it. Elizabeth could feel it. Nevertheless, she smiled softly. “Breathe, Rhys.”
He laughed and stood with her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. As he laid her down and covered her body with his, a knock came. Rhys cursed. “Pretend you did not hear that.” He kissed her.
The knock came again, sounding more like a pounding, and he hissed. He drew the bed covers over her body and stood to put on his banyan. He crossed the room to the door and opened it just a crack.
“Yes?”
“My Lord, it is Mr. Westwood,” Webster said in a rush. “Something has happened to him. You must come. Now.”
Elizabeth sat up, her heart beating so fast that her breathing was abbreviated. That fear that had been clawing at the recesses of her mind expanded and covered everything it could find.
