His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "Are you certain? It seems quite clear she cares for him as well."

"I felt it, very strongly, when I touched them in the music room. Heartbreak. For both of them."


********

Michael Evers settled himself onto the lumpy mattress, his every muscle aching with fatigue. He'd ridden hard with little rest, changing horses frequently, trying to keep ahead of the storm he saw brewing in the skies just south of his route. He'd arrived in Liverpool less than an hour ago. Exhausted, he'd found an inn, eaten some stew, then all but collapsed upon the bed.

Tomorrow morning he would cross the Irish Sea to Dublin, a journey he was not relishing. Damn it all, he hated the water. Hated everything to do with it. Sailing, fishing, all of it. Most likely his intense dislike arose from the fact that he could not swim. Every time he ventured near water, a sheen of sweat broke out over his entire body. Of course, his fear was not something he shared with anyone. Never show weakness was his motto. And in his line of work, and given the company he kept, he could not afford to do so. He'd rather ride a bloody horse all day than spend five minutes in a bloody boat. Aye, give him some solid horseflesh beneath him-not some wooden planks at the mercy of unpredictable tides and waves that rolled and undulated in a way that made his stomach feel queer.

In truth, he could have secured passage on a livestock barge scheduled to depart at midnight. But damn it, he couldn't face the prospect of crossing all that water in the dark. Best he spend the night here, rest up, and cross during daylight hours. When he could see what was going on. See where the railings were, so he didn't accidentally fall off the bloody deck.

Besides, for years Mrs. Brown had had possession of the note now secreted in his waistcoat. What possible difference could a few more hours make?

Chapter 18

At precisely half past midnight, Robert slipped into Allie's bedchamber, closing and locking the door behind him. She stood near the fireplace, surrounded by a golden, backlit glow that made her appear ethereal. Except for her eyes. They looked wickedly aware, and full of desire.

A lump lodged in his throat. It seemed as if he'd waited forever to find her, had searched everywhere for her. And here she was. Waiting for him. At last.

With his gaze fastened on hers, he crossed the room, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He wore only his royal-blue dressing gown, knotted loosely at his waist, and with each step he took, the silky material abraded his overheated skin. He stopped directly in front of her, his heart slapping against his ribs as if he'd run ten miles.

"I want you to know," he said softly, "that I shall try my best to go slowly this time, but given how I feel right now-without having even touched you-I'm afraid the chances are not particularly good."

She stepped forward, erasing the two-foot space he'd left between them, then splayed her palms against his chest in the V opening of his dressing gown, instantly tightening his groin. He rested his hands on her waist, sucking in a breath when she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his exposed skin.

"I think," she said, her breath caressing him, "that slowly can wait for later." She replaced her fingers with her warm mouth, flicking her tongue over his nipples, sending a shudder through him. Her hands slid down his abdomen to the tie at his waist. Grasping her wrists, he took a shaky step back.

"Later will arrive in mere seconds if you continue to do that," he ground out. Disappointment tempered with unmistakable feminine awareness glittered in her eyes. His own gaze roamed slowly down her golden-clad body. "That is indeed a beautiful gown," he murmured.

"Yes."

"Let's take it off."

Her eyes darkened. "Yes."

Releasing her wrists, he stepped behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned forward and kissed the pale, vulnerable skin at the base of her neck. Honeysuckle teased his senses, and he touched his tongue to the spot, absorbing the delicate shiver that ran through her.

Straightening, he ran his finger along the row of tiny buttons running down the gown from just below her nape to the center of her back. He slipped the top one through its loop, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of creamy skin, which he kissed before slipping the second button free.

"I specifically asked Madame Renee to put these buttons here," he whispered as he undid the third and fourth fastenings, "so that I could do this." The remaining buttons came free, and he slowly parted the material and ran a single fingertip down her spine.

A breath huffed from her. "Most likely I should be appalled at such arrogance and presumption."

"Not arrogance," he whispered against her neck. "Confidence. Knowing when something is… right. And inevitable." He gently pushed the gown from her shoulders and down her arms. It slithered over her hips, pooling in a golden puddle at her feet. He turned her slowly around, then took her hand, helping her to step out of the circle of material. He then picked up the gown and laid it over the back of a wing chair, congratulating himself on his impressive show of restraint thus far.

Turning back toward her, he swallowed. Dressed in nothing more than a nearly transparent chemise and delicate stockings tied with lace garters, she stole his breath. And a good deal of the restraint he'd just congratulated himself upon. Coral-hued nipples pressed against her chemise, calling to him like a siren's song.

He started toward her, but she backed up. He raised his gaze to hers and was arrested by the devilish challenge sparkling in her eyes.

"You're looking at me in a very distracting way," she said in a raspy voice he could only describe as smoky.

He advanced several more steps, angling himself so that her retreat led her directly toward the bed. "On the contrary, I'm not the least bit distracted. I know exactly what I plan to do with you."

"Oh, my. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Her retreat was halted when the backs of her legs hit the side of the mattress. He stalked slowly forward, like a jungle cat preparing to pounce on its prey. Halting directly in front of her, he absorbed the desire and mischief dancing in her eyes, the rapid pulse quivering at the base of her throat, the delicate, unmistakable scent of female arousal rising from her skin.

"My darling Allie, I would be delighted to enlighten you. First I plan to remove the remainder of your clothing." Reaching out, he slid her chemise slowly down her arms, until it fell to her feet, leaving her in just her stockings and garters.

"You are exquisite," he murmured, taking in all of her, every delectable curve from her head to her toes. He then filled his hands with her full breasts, her taut nipples pressing into his palms.

A long sigh escaped Allie, and pinpricks of pleasure raced over her sensitive skin. Her eyes slid shut, and she gave herself over totally to the sensation of his hands on her body, arousing her nipples, then gliding down to caress her buttocks while his lips and tongue laved her breasts. She ran her fingers through his silky hair, thrusting her breasts higher, urging him to take more of her into the wet heaven of his mouth. Desire curled through her, dampening her flesh, pooling an aching, heavy heat between her thighs that demanded his touch. Impatience scraped at her. She wanted, needed, more. Now.

"What do you intend to do next?" she said in a raspy voice she did not even recognize as her own.

He lifted his head from her breast, and the inferno blazing in his eyes stalled her breath. Rising to his full height, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pressed her down. With her knees already as limp as overcooked noodles, she sank to sit upon the mattress. He then gently urged her back until she was fully reclined from knee to head, her feet dangling off the side of the mattress. Insinuating himself between her knees, he loomed over her, resting his wide palms on the ivory counterpane on either side of her shoulders.

"Next," he said, his warm breath beating against her face, "I intend to find out if you taste like honeysuckle everywhere."

Oh, my. He leaned down and teased her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She tried to capture his mouth in a kiss, but he moved his lips away, across her jaw, then down her neck. She ruffled her fingers through his hair, then raised her arms over her head, and simply gave herself over completely to the magic his hands and mouth wrought so expertly upon her.

For a man who'd claimed the inability to go slow, his exploration of her body was an agony of prolonged pleasure. His fingers and lips glided sinuously over her skin with a devastating combination of feathery caresses and velvety, wet heat. He suckled her breasts until she writhed beneath him, aching for him to fill her, and put out this relentless fire he'd stoked.

Still, his journey continued with a leisure that brought her to the brink of desperation. His tongue dampened a trail down her abdomen, then dipped into her navel. Feeling him shift lower, she forced her eyes open and propped herself up on her elbows. He knelt on the floor, his fingers playing with the curls between her thighs. His broad shoulders were bare, indicating he'd shed his robe. Their eyes met, and her pulse jumped at his intense expression.

"Spread your legs for me, Allie."

Her gaze locked with his, she obeyed, splaying her thighs wide, her heart pounding in anticipation. He slipped his hands beneath her, cupping her buttocks, then slowly slid her toward him, lifting her.