“What is in the diary?” He kissed the spot he’d bitten.
“The diary?”
“Rowena’s journal.” He ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her night gown at the swell of her breasts.
“Oh, yes, the, ah, journal.” Her breaths came in rapid takes. She bolted straight. “Oh, goodness. There might be something there to further jar your memory. How could I have forgotten such a thing?”
He kissed her neck, felt her shiver beneath his touch. He moved his hand up her bare leg.Paradise.“Give me the synopsis.”
She fell back against his chest. “Miss Hollerfield—Rowena—worried you were falling in love with her. That distressed her immensely, because she wanted you to marry Corinne. It appears you were trapped into the marriage.”
He stiffened.Trapped.The memories rushed in.
Rowena’s hysterics. Some crisis at Corinne’s school.
Rowena begging him to accompany her to the school to retrieve Corinne.
Corinne’s locked bedchamber with him inside.
Corinne’s schoolgirl attempts to seduce him.
His laughter at the absurdity.
Corinne’s hurt feelings.
The door bursting open.
Rowena’s outrage. All witnessed by the headmistress and another teacher or two.
His and Corinne’s stiff wedding. His fury. His mission.
Hismission? What had been his mission?
Maeve’s palm cupped his jaw. “Oh God. You’ve remembered, haven’t you?”
“Almost everything.” He moved his mouth over hers to distract her. He should know by now that trying to distract Maeve usually ended with a contradictory result.
Except right now he couldn’t make himself care. Grinning, he took her mouth again.
“So. Were you in love with Rowena Hollerfield?”
“Certainly not. She was Kimpton’s lover before he married Lorelei. The very idea is appalling.” Harlowe shifted Maeve around to face him. He pulled her head to him and kissed her lips.
She pulled back, her breaths coming in rapids intakes. “Oh.”
Harlowe took his time kissing her, tasting her, sating her until he thought he would explode under her sweet ministrations. Her tentative touches, on his chest, his cock, grew more confident, until he was tossing her on the bed, determined to have her beneath him using the entire bed as their playground.
She writhed under his mouth, his hands, his body. He spread her legs and drove deep. Pulled back, and took her again. Over and over until she was clutching his shoulders. Until her muted screams singed his chest. Only then did he allow himself the painstaking release he’d been withholding, falling atop her, their chests heaving in unison.
He moved aside, drawing her into his arms. He gazed down into her upturned face and knew a moment of panic even as his heart swelled. He loved her. And it was nothing remotely similar to what he’d felt for Corinne or Rowena. The very idea was ludicrous. The realization that he loved Maeve was a sharp dagger to his heart. He would kill to keep her, and those she held dear, safe, including every single rapscallion she brought into their home. He had no doubt there would be many more in their future.
Harlowe touched his lips to her forehead and held her until she fell into the depths of sleep. He rose from the bed, widening the window and leaning out into the icy February night.
The comprehension of his mission hit him. He had been hired to infiltrate the Althenaeum Order. A group of debauched betters who took their pleasure at the demise of those unable to fend them off. Children and women. The shadowy figures in his memory still remained unknown. It took a moment to remember… they’d worn masks.
Another image infiltrated—
“Quiet now.”Harlowe counted the heads as he ushered them before him through the underground tunnel. One, two, three, four, five. Three girls, two boys, ages five to seven. All accounted for. Yet so many he’d had to leave behind. They were scheduled for delivery. He’d no choice but to act. The Slavs were a dangerous lot.
