Listening to McLeish extol his own greatness nearly had Lord Alexander St. John at screaming point, but he fixed an interested look on his face while he let his mind wander to Lady Katharine, his thoughts touching over her like a caress. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her sweetness, to allow his tongue to sweep the inside of her soft mouth while his hands explored her body. Oh, God. He had to pull his thoughts back from the direction they were heading before McLeish noticed that his groin was suddenly hard and hot from just thinking of Katie.
Feigning a large yawn, he apologized to McLeish as he excused himself. ‘I thank you for a delightful evening, Robert, but I find I am extraordinarily tired and if I am to discuss business with you tomorrow in any sort of reasonable fashion, I will retire now to my bed.’
‘Yes, yes, Alexander. I understand perfectly. I will meet you at nine at the warehouse.’
‘Ah, Robert. A little later would be better. I will need to arrange things on board my ship first.’
‘Of course, of course. Whatever suits. Until tomorrow.’ He turned to scream for the Chinese houseman, who Alex could see was already waiting in the shadows. ‘Tong! Show Earl St. John out and bring me another whiskey. Quickly!’
Alex started to correct McLeish about promoting him to Earl while his father still lived, but even another minute spent in the company of this appalling man would be too much.
Max shuddered at Carina’s passion-hazed command to make love to her, self-doubts rose like a thunder cloud. “Love making between us is impossible.” As soon as he’d spat out the harsh words, he regretted them. She pulled back. “Forgive me, but we cannot forget who we are and where we are. Let’s not delude ourselves, or lie to each other.”
She stared with unblinking, moisture-filled eyes, and that blasted pain shot straight through to his gut and caused a raw burn. She stopped his absent-minded rubs at his midriff. “Are you suffering some sort of aliment in your abdomen?”
He bristled. “Of course not. I enjoy perfect health.”
She lifted a brow. “Your veins may run with the bluest blood, but your human form suffers from the same frailties as the rest of us lower mortals. I’ve noticed that you rub your stomach quite often. Perhaps you should consult a physician.”
“Ridiculous charlatans. I’ll not listen to another swindler promising to cure a simple digestive disorder by bleeding me dry with leeches.”
She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Max. You’ve already visited physicians.”
“It’s nothing.”
Tortured duke reunites with a mysterious lady to search for answers from their intertwined pasts and expose those who orchestrated the evil that scarred them both. She’ll do anything to protect her younger sisters and he’s desperate to make amends.
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Belatedly recalling that he was speaking to a British peer, McLeish pulled himself together and shrugged off his outburst. ‘Never mind that sordid story, my lord. How about another shot of my fine whiskey?’
Nearly choking on rising bile, Lord Alexander St. John forced himself to take his leave as politely as he would have from a London drawing room. ‘I thank you, sir, but as I sail on the morning tide so I must bid you farewell.’
He wanted to punch the bastard in his smug face after witnessing the disrespect he’d shown his daughter. He’d heard the stories of the man’s abuse of his daughter and his cruelty when dealing with his plantation laborers. If he’d remained in the same room as that vile man for another minute, he would not have been able to contain his rage. The only thing holding him back was knowing that McLeish’s moods were mercurial. Tonight, he had wanted his daughter to appear enticing but Alex feared the aftermath if he’d shown Lady Katharine any special attention. McLeish would do anything to leave these islands and return to London and becoming part of the St. John family would ensure he would be accepted back into London society, despite the cloud he departed under previously.
Relieved to escape the house without further conflict, he strode down the garden path lit by flares and walked away from the house. Once out of McLeish’s view, he turned into the gardens. When a soundless lips in a gesture of silence and beckoned Alex to follow. Wordlessly, they descended to the small cove where Tong Lee stopped and pointed. Alex could make out a huddled figure on the beach, staring fixedly out to the ocean. Not wanting to scare her, he cleared his throat softly to announce his approach. Nevertheless, she started in fright and fear.
‘It is only I, Alexander. Please do not fear me. I didn’t wish to alarm you, but I needed to be assured of your well-being before I sailed.’
Tired past the point of arguing, Gabe undid the buttons on his trousers and awkwardly sank to the floor. Thin though the mattress was, he groaned with relief to be seated and able to stretch out his aching leg. He bent and tugged at his boots, but Lady Melton swatted his hands away. “Lean back and let me take care of you.”
He blinked at her in surprise. His uncle’s housekeeper had filled the role of mother for him often enough, but other than Mrs. Green, no one had ever fussed over his physical well-being. The women he’d been intimate with had fretted over pleasing him sexually, but his role as the male and provider had been to ensure they were well-housed, fed, and clothed. Role reversal made him uncomfortable, and yet Anne’s caring was oddly reassuring.
His upcoming task wasn’t going to be easy. Eleven men, a lady, and a small boy had to be transported to England. Plus, Wellesley’s dispatches were sewn into the lining of his uniform, which not even the Lieutenant knew. Gabe carried the official summation of the battle, papers that he’d been ordered to personally deliver to the War Office in London. Messengers were adequate for shorter notes, but the War Office needed a full report from Wellington, plus observations from his trusted officers, which amounted to a hefty and valuable package for him to conceal.
If Anne could lessen his pain, even a little, his thinking would be clearer during their journey, and only an ungrateful idiot would refuse her offer.
Captain Belling cleared his throat and turned to face Lady Melton. “I owe you an apology for not personally seeing to your comfort. I’ve not been at my most amicable recently. Our evacuation plans have changed five times in the past three days, because each messenger has brought worse news about conditions of the roads. Wellesley probably pictured us rounding up a fleet of comfortable carriages to transport the wounded to the coast, after which boats would magically whisk us across the Channel until, within a few days, the wounded would be under the care of a staff of competent physicians. Apparently, the first and largest batches of wounded soldiers managed that scenario and are, I hope, being loaded into the boats as we speak. Word is that the second group ran afoul of deserters on three separate occasions.”
“British or French?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Men probably went rogue from many forces as soon as the battle turned and we became the winners. Napoleon was so confident of victory that he didn’t plan for retreat. So, retreating regiments were bottlenecked at the bridge at Sambre and soldiers ran away, rather than die during the chaos. Disenchanted soldiers from every country meet, form alliances, and will then kill without compunction, to stay free, or to appease their hunger for food and women. And every day, more will be on the roads.”
When she stiffened, he said, “Don’t worry. Our messengers reported where they’d seen large groups, and we’ll avoid those roads.” She sat still as a statue and listened. “I’d like to get to London without killing anyone else, because I’m tired of the fighting, tired of wars.”
She shuffled a few inches back towards him and laid her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry that I’ve added to your problems.” She looked down at her sleeping son. “Sorry you have two more passengers to worry about.”
“Our main problem is transport. The first groups needed the biggest wagons, so we must make do with inferior vehicles.”
“Daniel and I are used to cramped quarters. We’re grateful for whatever you arrange.”
“Humph. I’m glad to hear that.” When she gave him a puzzled look, he pointed to a mattress set at a right angle to her cot but with their ends almost touching. “I shall now be sleeping there.”
The small noise she made pleased him. She didn’t scream like a virginal girl would if told that a man would be sleeping in such close proximity, but sounded surprised to find that she’d pressed herself up against him.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear. I’ve taken your bed. I’ve forced you to use a mattress on the floor.”
He laughed softly. “Believe me, that’s far better than propping against a tree and trying to snatch an hour’s sleep before battle. Or squeezing between a sea of horses and men so you stay warm and don’t expire from frostbite.”
“How long have you been with Wellesley?”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Too damn long.”
“So you’re pleased to be going home?”
“Pleased? No. Resigned, yes. My friends, my fellow officers, were ordered back to Brussels. I feel guilty that I’m not with them.”
“But surely they will return home soon, now that we’ve defeated Napoleon?”
“We’ve thought the war finished several times before, and I fear this time may prove the same. Nobody can predict what the Corsican will do next.”
She squeezed his thigh. “You’re worn out, Gabe. Things will be better when you’re in London once again.”
Nothing had prepared Lady Katharine Montgomery for the jumble of feelings overwhelming her when Alex worshipped her body, first with words and later with his hands and mouth. For years around this house, she’d been forced to appear dowdy, unintelligent, and totally self-effacing to never anger her father, or draw his wrath. Now, though, every degrading restriction was lifted from her mind, body, and life.
Her father was dead. Yesterday, she’d buried her hatred for the despicable man who’d given her life during the quarter hour it took to stand at his grave and, along with all the other hypocrites present, pretend to mourn as they buried his mortal remains. He’d cheated traders, beaten plantation workers, and horse-whipped her within an inch of her life. She and all the other mourners hoped he’d rot in hell.
Last night, she’d felt free to liberate the passionate nature she’d kept buried for six and twenty years for fear of her father’s explosive wrath. But one night with Lord Alexander St. John had changed everything. One night with a lover who was gentle and caring had her aching for more, more of Alex and more of life with him.
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