Caro woke as he shifted behind her. She lay on her side; he must have moved them onto the pillows and dragged the covers over them. The power of their extended joining pulsed, a faint echo in her bones. Hours must have passed, yet she still felt wrapped in the moment, in the passion, the raw hunger, the urgent desire.
Not just his, but hers.
Despite the many times they’d come together, enjoyed, indulged, and shared, she hadn’t understood—hadn’t truly comprehended from what source the power that commanded him, that compelled him and drove him, sprang. Yet this last time…even though she hadn’t been able to see his face, she’d felt that power, so strong it had been palpable, surrounding them, holding them, welding them. Until there’d been just them—not him or her, but one entity.
She felt his hand on her thigh, felt him raise the back of her nightgown, drawing the material to her waist. He caressed her bottom; she reacted instantly, her skin dewing, heating. His hand slipped lower, pressed between her thighs, found her. Fondled, probed, then, pushing her upper thigh higher, he opened her, and slid in.
She’d wondered if he’d known she was awake; he certainly knew as he sank into her to the hilt and she arched, a soft gasp falling from her lips as, head back, eyes closed, she savored that incredible moment.
He held still, let her enjoy it fully.
Then, when she eased, very gently, rocked.
Into her, about her, with her.
He slid his hand, palm splayed, over her stomach, holding her against him. She spread her hand over the back of his, murmured, caught her breath as he pushed deeper still.
The familiar heat rose within them, between them, poured through them. The tide rose and she went with it, whirling gently, senses aware, into its sensuous sea.
No urgency this time, just a long, slow, unhurried loving, one neither was eager to rush.
For her part, just the feel of him, hard, hot, unforgivingly rigid, drawing out of, then pressing back into, her body was bliss. As the minutes ticked by and the tempo remained severely restrained, she felt certain he knew.
But the slow pace allowed her mind to function, to drift, to snag on the question. “Why?” She was sure she wouldn’t need to elaborate.
Propped on one elbow behind her, he leaned close, nuzzled the curve of her throat.
“Because of this.” His voice was low, deep, a male promise in the dark of the night. “Because of all the women I could have, I want you—like this.”
He slowed, let her feel again how much he wanted her, let their loins come together as he sank deep. “Like this. Lying naked beside me in my bed, mine whenever I wish.” His voice deepened, darkened. “Mine to have, to fill with my seed. I want you to bear my children. I want you by my side when I grow old. Because at the end of all the explanations, it comes down to this—that you are the only wife I want, and for you, for that, I’ll wait forever.”
She felt her heart swell, was so glad he couldn’t see her face, see her eyes as tears welled and silently fell.
Then he picked up their rhythm, the tempo escalated, and there were no more words, but a wordless communion. An age-old melding; he held her tight, his chest to her back as she crested the peak and fell through the stars. He followed immediately, with her—as he wished, as she wished—when they found their distant shore.
21
Michael left the house the next morning feeling for the first time in weeks as if he were walking in mental sunshine rather than fog. As if a miasma had blown away and he could finally see clearly.
Caro was all that truly mattered to him. It wasn’t just sensible but completely justifiable to devote himself wholly, si
ngle-mindedly, to her protection. To set aside all other concerns and concentrate solely on that, for she was the key to his future.
He’d left her still sleeping, sated and warm in her bed, safe in his grandfather’s house. He headed for the clubs and scouted through his contacts; none had anything to report. After lunching at Brooks with Jamieson, who was still puzzled and uneasy over the break-in, not so much over it happening but because he couldn’t see why, Michael headed for Grosvenor Square, confident there was no piece of accessible information he’d overlooked.
Devil had summoned him to a meeting at three o’clock; Gabriel had turned up something odd among the legatees that Lucifer agreed needed to be investigated. The meeting was opportune; Michael could report his findings, or lack thereof, and Devil would have news of Ferdinand and his doings.
Devil’s butler, Webster, was waiting to admit him; Michael surmised Honoria had not been informed a meeting was taking place. His brother-in-law had deeply entrenched prejudices against involving his wife in any potentially dangerous game. He now shared—fully—those same prejudices, and other similar reactions and emotions to which he’d never thought to fall prey. Thinking of Caro and all she made him feel, he wondered that he’d been so self-blind.
Devil and Lucifer were waiting in the study; Gabriel arrived as he sat in one of the four armchairs facing each other across the empty hearth. As Gabriel sank into the last, Michael glanced around at the faces; he’d grown close to all the Cynsters. Since Honoria’s marriage they’d treated him as one of them; he’d come to regard them in the same light. Helping each other was an unwritten Cynster code; it didn’t seem odd, even to him, that they’d put aside other things and devoted time and effort to aiding him.
Gabriel looked at him. “Let’s hear your news first.”
Michael grimaced; it didn’t take long to summarize nothing.
“Leponte has been lying low,” Devil said. “Sligo’s certain he hired someone to watch the Foreign Office buildings, but he’s been careful to work through intermediaries. However, for the night in question, we can’t place Leponte anywhere. He might have remained within the emabassy all night—then again, he might not.”
“If he’s searching for something incriminating,” Michael said, “presumably he won’t want anyone else to read it. While at Sutcliffe House, he could have asked others to bring away anything they found, removing an entire archive….”