He reached her shortly, his stride swift in his eagerness to take her mouth and relive the delights of the previous evening. Cognizant of her delicate condition, Christopher cupped her spine with great care and tilted his head to kiss her as he wanted. Maria stood rigid for a moment and then yielded sweetly.
He licked, nibbled, and ate at her as if she were a dessert he could not consume enough of. His skin grew hot, then damp with perspiration, every muscle tense with need and desire. From a kiss, and he did not even really enjoy kissing, considering it a needless distraction from the good part of sex.
But by God…Maria’s kisses were sexual acts in and of themselves. He withdrew only because he needed to breathe. Certainly that was the only reason he felt dizzy.
Maria’s eyes opened, revealing dark and dazed depths. “Hmm…” she murmured, licking her lips. “Delicious.”
The throaty way she said the word aroused him further. He growled his frustration and cupped her face in his hands. “Listen. I must depart today. There is a matter of some urgency that requires my attention. Tell me now if you are intent on another harebrained scheme so I can assign some men to protect you.”
She smiled. “I am going on holiday, to rest and recuperate.”
“Good.” His fingers tightened their hold and then he released her, backing away quickly. There was something about her bearing that made him suspicious. He would keep additional guards on her anyway. “Where are you going?”
“I have yet to decide.”
“When are you departing?”
“Today.”
“When will you be back?”
She laughed, her dark eyes bright. With her kiss-swollen lips and black-as-pitch hair, she was beyond beautiful. “Will you miss me?”
“I hope not,” he muttered, feeling surly for no reason he could recognize.
“I shall miss you.”
Alert, he studied her. “You will?”
“No. It seemed like the thing to say.”
“Witch.” He knew she was toying with him, could see it in the way she looked at him, and yet part of him wished she were sincere.
“Christopher?” she prodded, when the silence stretched on. “You do not seem to be yourself today.”
“It is you who is different,” he accused. She seemed…lighter in mood than usual. He wanted to know why. Who had wrought this change in her?
Maria sighed audibly and walked to the settee. “So we part ways here.” She sat and patted the space next to her in silent invitation.
He did not move.
She settled her hands primly in her lap and arched one brow expectantly. Belatedly Christopher understood that she was waiting for him to say something.
“I have to go,” he said. To kill, and perhaps to be killed.
She nodded.
“If you have even the slightest desire to kiss me good-bye,” he said gruffly, “you should do so now.”
“I see.” Her lips pursed. “Why do I have the feeling that a flippant remark here would ruin the moment?”
He turned on his heel and walked out.
“Christopher! Wait.”
He paused on the threshold and turned, his mien one of patent boredom.
Maria was standing again and appeared to have taken steps to follow him. “I slept better last night than I have in a long while.”
It was some sort of olive branch, so he stepped back into the room and closed the door. She was either the best trickster in the world or she was growing soft on him. Masculine satisfaction warred with guilt.
Then she crossed the room to him with an enticing sashay and set her hands on his chest. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. He stared down at her, waiting, needing her to be the one who closed the distance between them.
“I should have allowed you to leave,” she complained, shaking her head.
Stepping away to collect a footstool, Maria then set it down before him. She climbed atop it, which still left her short of eye level but brought her much closer to his mouth. “Tell me again why I am exerting myself in this manner.”
He smiled, content now to leave and do what he must. “For this.”
And then he kissed her ardently.
Chapter 12
“Feeling better?” Miss Pool asked, glancing aside at Amelia as they walked through the village on their return trip home.
Amelia nodded. “I am, yes. Thank you.”
Ever since the night Maria had come for her, she’d grown more and more restless. When it became obvious that she couldn’t concentrate on the day’s lessons, Miss Pool had suggested they set the work aside in favor of a day outdoors. Parasols in hand, they had ventured out with no particular destination in mind but had found themselves drawn to the nearby market town. Amelia enjoyed the afternoon stroll, appreciating the opportunity to see others industriously going about their daily business. Other people had full lives, even if she did not.
“The body needs as much conditioning as the mind,” Miss Pool said in her soft, sweet voice.
“I have always thought so, too.” Of course, she’d grown up alongside a physically active boy and had learned to relish hard play. She also relished a dimpled smile, but she had not seen that in years.
“I do like your hair worn up.” The governess smiled. “You look every inch the fine lady. I will write your father this evening and suggest the procurement of a proper abigail for you.”
Amelia touched her hair nervously. Braided and then coiled into a bun, it was heavy and her neck ached with the unaccustomed weight. But if this was what was required to be considered a young woman and not a child, she considered the discomfiture worth it.
“Good afternoon, Miss Pool. Miss Benbridge.”
They slowed and smiled at the young cobbler who had stepped outside of his shop to greet them. The handsome blond man smiled shyly through his beard and rubbed his palms nervously against his apron.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Field,” Miss Pool greeted with a soft blush on her cheeks that didn’t escape Amelia’s notice.
The two appeared to like each other, with more than casual interest. Curious, Amelia studied them, wondering if she looked so obviously smitten when she crossed paths with Colin. How dreadful if she did, to wear that glowing look of hope and longing in the face of his curtness and obvious distaste for her.
Feeling both morose and embarrassed that she was intruding on an exchange that seemed intimate, she turned her back to the couple…
…and spotted a familiar set of broad shoulders and long legs walking away from her. At Colin’s side was a blond girl who Amelia guessed was close to his age, if the ripe womanly curves were any indication. They were laughing, their eyes bright as they looked at each other. His hand was at her lower back, steering her around a corner so that they disappeared from view.
Unable to resist, Amelia moved forward, her movements jerky. Colin and the buxom girl had looked at each other much as Miss Pool and Mr. Field were. A look filled with promise.
Amelia rounded the same building, her steps slowing as she heard low murmured voices and subdued giggles. She passed barrels and crates, her focus so narrow that when a stray cat leapt to the ground with a meow it frightened her half to death. She fell back against the brick, her hand sheltering her racing heart, her eyes squeezed shut with dread. It was cooler back here, the pass-through shaded from the sun by the building.
She knew she should turn back. Miss Pool wouldn’t be distracted long and then she would worry about her. But Amelia’s heart ignored reason, to no surprise. If the stubborn thing listened at all, it would have ceased pining for Colin months ago.
Taking a deep breath of courage, she pushed off the wall and turned the corner to reach the back of the shop. There she stilled, her breath seized in her lungs, her open parasol first falling to her side and then falling from her fingers to thud on the soft earth.
Colin and his companion were too occupied to note the sound. The pretty blonde was pressed against the rear wall, her head tilted back to invite Colin’s roving mouth, which moved across the swell of flesh exposed by her low bodice. He caged her in, his left arm bearing the weight of his torso, his right hand kneading the full breast the girl thrust wantonly toward him.
Pain stabbed deep into Amelia’s heart, a wound so brutal she moaned with the agony of it. Colin’s head flew up, his eyes widening as he saw her. He straightened instantly, thrusting himself away from the building and the girl he ravished there.
Horrified, Amelia turned and ran the length of the shops, leaving her parasol behind. Her sobs echoed off the rear of the stores, but she heard him calling out to her, regardless. That deep voice, so different from the boy she had known, the tone serrated and pleading as if he cared that he’d broken her.
Which he didn’t, she knew.
She ran faster, the thudding of her panicked boot steps lost in the sound of blood rushing in her ears.
But even running her fastest, she could not outrun the memory of what she had seen.