“If you do not feel the same, tell me.” He searched her gaze, trying to make sense of the muddle he’d made with his loose tongue and overflowing emotions. Everything was new to him; he was a new person, and finding his footing was akin to walking on an icy lake.
“Of course I feel the same.” She pressed her lips together, and a lone tear spilled down her cheek. “You must know I do. I love you, and it would be my honor to be your wife. But there is the matter of who you are, which must be addressed, and there is much you do not know about me, and…oh, what if your memories return and you find you do not like me at all?”
“That would never happen,” he reassured her, for he knew it instinctively.
Nothing could alter the depths of emotion he felt for the woman in his arms.
“But what if it does?” she persisted, looking forlorn.
A second tear trailed down her cheek to join the first. He kissed it away, catching the saltiness of her sorrow on his lips. “It won’t, Caro. I vow it. I may not remember who I am, but I would never forget the way I feel for you. From the moment I woke and saw you, the bond between us has been undeniable, and it has only grown stronger. I know I have nothing to provide you now, but I am determined to make myself a worthy man for you. Only promise me you will give me the chance.”
“I promise.”
She cradled his face with a tender touch, and she kissed him. Hesitantly at first, and then with growing ardor. He groaned and took control, his lips moving against hers, the need to taste and claim her rising along with his cockstand. He teased the seam of her lips, then swept inside.
Sweet as honey.
So responsive.
Longing ripped through him as he deepened the kiss, and she shifted on his lap until he was nestled against the tempting swell of her rump. Her tongue teased his. For an unknown span of time, they kissed each other breathless. He forgot where they were, that any moment, they would arrive at their destination.
And then, the carriage rocked to a halt.
She broke the kiss, staring at him, her mouth swollen. “We are here.”
“Aye.” Reluctantly, he retrieved her bonnet and settled it atop her head. “We are.”
He was greedy, and he wanted more of her, but he knew that he must be happy with what he had gotten and bide his time for more.
If only he could remember who the bloody hell he was.
Chapter 8
For the second time that day, Caro found herself being tugged into a masculine lap. However, this time, it was not a place where she wanted to be, because the man into whose lap she had landed was not Gavin Winter. Instead, it was Viscount Derby, a lord who had been ogling her with a lascivious stare for the entirety of her performance that evening. Whereas being held so close by Gavin had felt at once comforting, familiar, and exciting, Lord Derby’s arms tightening around her waist only caused alarm to rise within her.
“My lord,” she said, attempting to pry his hands from her, “you must let me go. My songs for the evening are finished.”
“I’ll make you sing a different ditty altogether,” the lord growled in her ear, before pressing a wet kiss to her throat.
He smelled of spirits and tobacco and…cheese.
Detestable creature.
She tugged at his hands some more, but that only seemed to heighten his enjoyment. “Lord Derby, please release me.”
“You want my cock,” he proclaimed in a low voice. “You’ve been begging for it all evening, and I’m going to give it to you, my pretty little whore.”
Caro cast a frantic glance around the private room where she had been singing this evening, but neither Jasper nor any of her other brothers was anywhere to be found. Timothy was acting as guard, but a conflict between two patrons had distracted him. Randall was likely continuing to guard Gavin. Which meant she was alone. The other patrons in the room were drinking and playing at cards, and the lords at Derby’s table were looking on with ill-disguised amusement.
“If your cock gets anywhere near me, I’ll cut it off,” she warned as his hand wandered to cup her breast through her stays.
“Looks as if Madame Teulet does not want to play slap and tickle with you, Derby,” observed one of the others in a mild tone that suggested this was by no means the first time Lord Derby had accosted a female in their presence.
She wondered if the lord had ever done so to Pen. And if so, why had Pen never said a word about such egregious behavior? The viscount had not been in the private room for any of her performances thus far, so Caro had no comparison. In her experience, some men turned into leering, revolting monsters when they were soused. Mayhap Derby was one of those wretches.
“She’ll change her mind soon enough,” Derby announced to his friend. In her ear, he spoke again, the words directed at Caro alone. “How much coin to have you for the night, love?”
“You cannot have me.” She struggled, managing to wrest an arm free of his cloying grasp, and then slapped the hand that was squeezing her breast. “You cannot have me tonight, and you cannot have me ever. I am not for sale, my lord. If you are seeking entertainment, one of the other ladies here will be happy to aid you.”
