Maddy blinked back tears.Alone. So alone.Why had she ever thought that was what she wanted? She was certain she couldn’t sleep. She was wrong. She fell into a restless slumber only to jolt awake sometime later, filled with terror. She gulped air until the nightmare receded, but the memory of a murky forest and knives remained. She had been calling for Brynn, but he’d kept disappearing.
The fire had died out. The profound silence of the night and the blackness enveloping her room told her it was after midnight but well before dawn. She pushed back the coverlet, turned her legs to the side of the bed, and stepped down. The floor felt icy under her bare feet while she waited for her eyes to adjust before going to the window.
A moonless night, stars hidden behind thick clouds, covered the landscape. Movement caught her eye, but she could not be sure who patrolled.One of Clarion’s guards?I need Brynn. Is he out there?
She stared out into the gloom for a moment, still shaken by spasms of terror, before groping around the shadows for a wrapper. She put it on over her nightgown, and her shivers calmed. Calmed but did not stop.
Resolve seized her. She needed Brynn, and she knew where to look for him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The security, well-plannedand competently deployed, held firm. Brynn’s second circuit about the manor house’s perimeter irritated those standing guard and contributed nothing.
“Get some sleep, Colonel. I have this,” Goodfellow told him, and Brynn knew he did. Rob Benson wouldn’t appreciate any implication his men couldn’t manage the thing.
He returned to his room and stripped off coat, waistcoat, and cravat, the bottle of brandy he’d brought up with him his only companion. He poured a glass, set it on the table next to his chair, and sat to remove his boots. He had angled it so he could stare out the window, though he saw nothing, not even the movement of the guards.
Sleep eluded him. His thoughts troubled him. They would catch Jessop, of that he had no doubt. Rhys and he would grow close again; they had made a start. Glenmoor and Kendrick would work their way through the maze of their relationship, and they weren’t his problem in any case, except insofar as they upset Madelyn.
Madelyn.Maddy.The one name he couldn’t keep at bay. Her image reverberated in his mind, agitating his heart. Memory of her tears clawed at him. Memory of her voice begging him to stay stirred him. Memory of her mouth on his in a garden in Wales heated his blood, and erotic fantasies rose up into the night. He downed a glass of brandy and poured another.
Not Maddy.He reminded himself.The duchess. Her Gr—
The door clicked open. Every instinct made him reach for the weapon in his discarded boot. A second instinct made him drop the boot to his feet when he recognized the intruder. He went perfectly still.
“Maddy?” he whispered. “Are you—”Well, safe, whole…
“I am terrified. I couldn’t find you. You abandoned me.” She closed the door and leaned against it, her hands at her sides, flat against the wood.
He stood abruptly. “Never.”
She didn’t move. “The forest—so dark. I ran and ran, but you—” Her breathing came in shaking gulps as if wrenched from her depths. Her wrapper had fallen open, and in the flickering firelight, he watched her breasts rise and fall with every breath. “The knives were everywhere. I screamed, and you wouldn’t come. I—”
“A nightmare,” he said, dragging his attention to her words, his eyes to her face. “You had a nightmare. You’re safe. I would never abandon you, Maddy.”You never leave my heart.
“But you left me. You wouldn’t stay.” She relaxed only slightly, lifting her back from the door and clasping her hands.
“Esther came. I didn’t leave you alone, and your brothers—”They aren’t you. Her words came back to him. “If I had stayed—” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “What do you want from me, Your Grace?”
Anger propelled her across the room. “Your Grace?One minute I’m Madelyn and even Maddy. The next I’m some ivory statue, an aristocratic ornament with no practical use. Is that all I am to you, Brynn Morgan?”
She had come close enough to envelop him in her heat, to surround him with her scent, to poke one irritated finger into his chest, her anger stabbing his heart. He grabbed her wrist and held it away. “What do you want?” he repeated.
“Hold me. I feel safe when you hold me. I do.” She said it almost defiantly.
Brynn didn’t notice her odd inflection. His defenses crumbled. His list of reasons she shouldn’t tie herself to a dilapidated soldier disappeared. How could he deny her? She slid into his embrace as honey might slide from a spoon, warm and yielding against the hardness of his chest, and his maleness hardened against her softness, his body calling out for hers.
The bandage, stark white against her beloved face, tore his heart. He touched it tenderly. “Does it—”
Without answering, she sought his mouth with hers and unleashed a fierce assault, forcing him to sit. He sank back into the chair, pulling her with him into his lap, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands exploring her without his volition. He pulled the wrapper from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor.
She yanked her mouth from his and explored his cheek and neck with intense determination, kissing him along his jawline, to his ear and the sensitive spot below it where his neck joined, her touch driving him mad.
When he ran his hands up her side, coming around to cup her breast though the thin cotton fabric of her gown, her nipples tightened. She stilled momentarily, confusing him, before resuming her assault on his eagerly responsive mouth. The pebbled breasts, her rapid breath, and the heat of her skin all spoke of arousal. A womanly scent filled his senses, telling him this woman—his woman—wanted him.
He moved his arms back around her, tightened his hold, and rose, carrying her to the bed.
*
