“Really?” She slid her hands inside his banyan, kneading his bare back.
“Yes,” he groaned. “And I’ll die a happy man.”
“Then let us die together,” she whispered against his lips.
She kissed him then, a tender caress, light and sweet, her lips slightly parted, trying to show him how much she loved him, for she truly had no words to tell him.
And perhaps he understood. He gasped a little, moving his hands to frame her face, raising his own to watch her as he began to move above her. He withdrew and pushed into her, only a little, the movement tiny and controlled, the effect devastating to her senses. She watched him, this man she loved, this man who’d offered his life for hers, as he made love to her. His face was hard and grim, the bird tattoos exotic and foreboding, but his mouth was gentle, and his eyes held an emotion that made her arch up into him.
“Beatrice,” he whispered, and began to move faster.
She gripped him, her muscles tightening, her breathing quickening, watching him, waiting. He hitched himself a little higher on her, grinding down, hitting her just there. And she broke. Suddenly, without warning. Gasping and shaking and crying, pressing herself up urgently into him, staring into those ruthless black eyes. Heat crashed through her, seemingly without end.
“Beatrice,” he cried. “God! Beatrice!”
And he convulsed above her, shuddering as he flooded her with his seed. Shaking, his black eyes wide and desperate, his mouth twisted as if in agony. He slowly closed his eyes and let his head drop as his great chest heaved for breath.
She stroked his back in little tired circles, her body replete, her mind at rest.
He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth opened wide, his tongue claiming possession. She arched again, helplessly, her nerves still raw.
He lifted his head and looked at her. “I love you, Beatrice. Now and forever. I love you.”
She smiled. “And I love you. Now and forever.” It was like a new beginning. A new pact.
So she pulled his head down to seal it with a kiss.
“THEN HE’S BEEN condemned,” Samuel Hartley said sotto voce nearly a month later.
“Condemned and scheduled to be hanged afore the new year,” Reynaud replied equally quietly. The gentlemen stood in a group to one side of his blue sitting room, but the ladies weren’t too far away, and they had damnably sharp hearing. The topic wasn’t appropriate for the day.
“Serves him right,” Reginald St. Aubyn said, not at all quietly. He saw Vale’s raised eyebrow and flushed. “Told you I never would’ve backed the man had I known he’d murdered his brother, let alone was a traitor to the Crown. Good God.”
“None of us knew,” Munroe growled. “’Tisn’t your fault, man.”
“Ah.” Reginald cleared his throat, looking surprised. “Well, thank you.”
Hartley leaned forward to say something else, and Reynaud bit back a smile. In the last month, he’d gotten used to having “Uncle Reggie” about the place, and while he wouldn’t call the other man his bosom bow yet, they were getting along rather well. It’d helped that Reggie had quite the knack for managing money, making it grow by leaps and bounds. But then he would’ve borne with Reggie even if he’d been the most curmudgeonly old man possible. He’d raised Beatrice and she loved him. That was all that mattered in the end.
o;Beatrice,” Reynaud whispered.
She looked at him, her eyes puzzled, and raised a hand toward him.
Blood streaked her fingers.
SHE’D BEEN NEARLY deafened by the pistol’s report, but Beatrice still heard Reynaud’s angry roar. He sounded like an enraged lion, like some fiery archangel come from heaven to wreak vengeance on a mortal man. He leaped forward, his freed right hand outstretched toward Lord Hasselthorpe. The chain shrieked against the iron ring, and he jerked back, his fingertips brushing Lord Hasselthorpe’s sleeve.
“Dear God!” Lord Hasselthorpe exclaimed. He fell against Beatrice, grasping at her arm.
It was the wrong thing to do.
Reynaud roared again and lunged. The other iron ring exploded from the wall. He was on Lord Hasselthorpe in one bound, tearing the man away from Beatrice.
Lady Hasselthorpe screamed.
Reynaud hit the other man in the face with a horrible smacking sound, and Lord Hasselthorpe fell to the ground. Reynaud followed him down to the stone floor, kneeling above him, his balled fist driving again and again into Lord Hasselthorpe’s face.
“Stop him!” Lady Hasselthorpe clutched Beatrice’s arm. “He’ll kill Richard.”