Princes Trilogy: The Leopard Prince Part 26

"You never said anything about talking," Harry panted. "For G.o.d's sake, do that again."

"Maybe. If I feel inclined." She inched nearer, ignoring his grumbled curse.

This time she lifted his c.o.c.k aside and planted a series of tiny, wet kisses on his belly. She ended when she came to the dark, wiry hair above his erection. She opened her mouth and sc.r.a.ped her teeth against his skin.

"s.h.i.t." Harry sucked in a breath.

His scent was pungent here. George nudged his legs apart and ran her fingers over his sac. She could feel the things that men called stones rolling about inside. Very, very carefully she squeezed.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n."

She smiled at his profanity. George grasped his c.o.c.k between forefinger and thumb. She glanced up at Harry's face.

He looked worried.

Good. Now, what if she . . .? George bent her head and licked the underside of his manhood. She tasted salt and skin and inhaled his aroma. She shifted her fingers and ran her tongue around the head, just where it began to swell out. Harry groaned. So she repeated the process and then thought to kiss the very tip where drops of seed welled.

"Put it in your mouth." His voice was a deep rasp, dark and prayerful.

It excited her unbearably. She didn't want to take his order. On the other hand . . . She opened her mouth over him. He was very big. Surely he didn't mean the whole thing? She fit the head into her mouth, like a small peach. Except peaches were sweet and he was musky. Tasting of man.

"Suck me."

She was startled. Really? She pursed her mouth and his hips came off the bed, startling her again.

"Ahhh. G.o.d."

His reaction, his obvious enjoyment of what she was doing, aroused her. She could feel that part of herself throbbing. She pressed her thighs together tightly and sucked on Harry's c.o.c.k. She tasted his s.e.m.e.n and wondered if he would reach completion in her mouth. But she wanted him in her when that happened. George licked one last time and rose to straddle his hips. She guided his erection to where it should be, but it seemed so big now. She pressed and felt him begin to part her. To tunnel and push. She glanced down. The smooth red skin of his c.o.c.k disappeared into her feminine hair. She moaned and almost came apart right there.

"Let me move," he whispered.

She couldn't speak. She nodded.

He placed one hand on his p.e.n.i.s to steady it and the other on her bottom. "Lean toward me."

She did and he slid in suddenly, almost all the way. She caught her breath and felt unexpected tears. Harry. Harry was making love to her. She closed her eyes and ground her hips into his. Felt at the same time his thumb touch that spot. She moaned and drew up until only the head remained inside her, concentrating on her pleasure and his. Down, grinding herself into him. Up, balancing precariously on a peak. Down, his thumb pressing against that most sensitive part of her. Up . . .

But suddenly he broke. He gripped her bottom tightly and rolled her underneath him. Then he braced himself on his hands and ploughed into her, fast and furious. She tried to move, to respond, but he pinned her to the mattress with his weight, dominated and mastered her with his flesh. She arched her head and widened her legs helplessly. Allowed him full access. Gave herself to him as he continued his relentless pounding. He grunted with each thrust into her body, and it almost sounded like sobbing. Did he feel it as much as she?

Then she fell apart and saw stars, a glorious stream of light filling her being. Dimly she heard his cry and felt his withdrawal, like a little death.

Then he lay next to her, panting.

"I wish you wouldn't do that." George stroked his neck. Her tongue was thick with satiation. "I wish you would stay with me until the end."

"You know I can't do that, my lady." His voice sounded no better.

She rolled over and snuggled against him. Her hand stroked down his sweaty belly until she found his p.e.n.i.s again. She held it. The argument could wait for tomorrow.

But when she woke in the morning, Harry was gone.

BENNET LAY WITH ONE ARM flung over his head and a foot hanging off the bed. In the moonlight, something metallic shone dully around his neck. He snored.

Harry stole across the darkened bedroom, placing his feet carefully. He should've quit the area the night he'd left his lady's bed, a week ago now. And he had meant to. It had been harder than it should've been to watch his lady sleep, see her relaxed body after he'd given her pleasure, and know he must leave her. There was simply no other choice. They had kept secret his recovery from Granville, but it was only a matter of time before Silas found out. And when he did, Lady Georgina's life would be in danger. Granville was insane. Harry had seen that firsthand during his stay in the lord's dungeon. Whatever was driving Granville to seek Harry's death had been let off its leash. Lord Granville would stop at nothing-not even an innocent woman-to see Harry dead. It would be irresponsible to put his lady's life in danger for an affair that had no future.He knew all this, and yet something still held him here in Yorkshire. As a result, Harry had become a master at sneaking. He hid from Granville's watchful eyes and the men who had begun roaming the hills in the last few days, seeking him. Tonight he made almost no noise, just a faint creak from his leather boots. The man on the bed stirred not at all.

Still, the boy on the pallet beside the bed opened his eyes.

Harry stopped and watched Will. The boy nodded slightly. Harry returned the nod. He walked to the bed. For a moment, he stood looking down at Bennet. Then he leaned over and covered the other man's mouth with his hand. Bennet jackknifed convulsively. He threw out his arms and managed to knock Harry's hand aside.

"Wha-?"

Harry slapped his hand back down again, grunting as Bennet elbowed him. "Hist, you beef-wit. It's me."

Bennet fought for a second more, and then Harry's words seemed to reach his brain. He froze.

Cautiously, Harry lifted his hand.

"Harry?"

"You'd better hope." He spoke barely above a whisper. "The way you sleep, it could be marauders. Even the boy woke before you."

Bennet leaned over the bed. "Will? Are you there?"

"Yes, sir." Will had sat up sometime during the struggle.

"Jesus." Bennet flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes with an arm. "You nearly gave me apoplexy."

"You've gotten soft living in London." The corner of Harry's mouth twitched. "Hasn't he, Will?"

"We-ell." The boy clearly didn't want to say anything against his new mentor. "Wouldn't hurt to be more alert."

"Thank you, young Will." Bennet removed his arm to glare at Harry. "What're you doing, creeping into my bedroom in the wee hours?"

Harry sat on the bed, his back against one of the posts at the end. He nudged Bennet's legs with a boot. The other man stared at the boot indignantly before moving.

Harry stretched out his legs. "I'm leaving."

"So you've come to say good-bye?"

"Not exactly." He looked down at the fingernails on his right hand. To the place where one should be but wasn't. "Your father is h.e.l.l-bent on having me killed. And he's none too happy with Lady Georgina for saving me."

Bennet nodded. "He's been rampaging around Granville House the last week, roaring that he'd have you arrested. He's insane."

"Aye. He's also the magistrate."

"What can you do? What can anybody do?"

"I can find whoever is really killing the sheep." Harry glanced at Will. "And Mrs. Pollard's murderer as well. It might dampen his temper." And turn it away from his lady.

Bennet sat up. "Very well. But how are you going to find the killer?"

Harry stared. A pendant on a thin chain around Bennet's neck had swung forward: a small, crudely carved falcon.

Harry blinked, remembering.

Long, long ago. A morning so bright and sunny it hurt to open your eyes wide to the full, blue sky. He and Benny had stretched on their backs on top of the hill, chewing gra.s.s.

"Lookee here." Harry took the carving out of his pocket and handed it to Benny.

Benny turned it over in his dirty fingers. "A bird."

"It's a falcon. Can't you see?"

"'Course I can see." Benny glanced up. "Who made it?"

"Me."

"Really? You carved it?" Benny stared at him with awe.

"Aye." Harry shrugged. "My da taught me. It's only my first, so it's not so good."

"I like it."

Harry shrugged again and squinted into the blinding blue sky. "You can keep it if you want."

"Thanks."

They had lain for a while, almost falling asleep in the warm sun.

Then Benny sat up. "I've got something for you."

He'd turned out both pockets and then dug down again, finally bringing up a small, dirty penknife. Benny rubbed it on his breeches and handed it to Harry.

Harry looked at the pearl handle and tested the edge with his thumb. "Ta, Benny. It'll be good for whittling."

Harry couldn't remember what he and Bennet had done the rest of that day. Probably rode their ponies about. Maybe fished in the stream. Come home hungry. That was how they'd spent most days back then. And it didn't really matter. The next afternoon Da had found his mother humping old Granville.

Harry looked up and met eyes as green as his own.

"I've always worn it." Bennet touched the little falcon.

Harry nodded and glanced away from Bennet for a moment. "I had started asking around, before I was arrested, and I've tried again this last week, discreetly, lest your father track me." He looked back at Bennet, his face under control now. "n.o.body seems to know much, but there's plenty besides me who have a reason to hate your father."

"Probably most of the county."

Harry ignored the sarcasm. "I thought maybe I should search a bit further back."

Bennet raised his eyebrows.

"Your nurse is still alive, isn't she?"

"Old Alice Humboldt?" Bennet yawned. "Yes, she's alive. Her cottage was the first place I stopped when I got back into the district. And you're right, she might know something. Nanny is very quiet, but she always noticed everything."

"Good." Harry stood up. "Then she's the person to question. Want to come?"

"What, now?"

Harry's mouth twitched. He'd forgotten how fun it was to bait Bennet. "I had thought to wait for sunrise," he said gravely, "but if you're eager to go now . . ."

"No. No, sunrise is fine." Bennet winced. "I don't suppose you could wait until nine o'clock?"

Harry looked at him.

"No, of course not." Bennet yawned again, nearly unhinging the back of his head. "I'll meet you at Nanny's cottage, shall I?"

"I'll go, too," Will spoke up from the pallet.

Harry and Bennet glanced at the boy. He'd nearly forgotten Will. Bennet raised his eyebrows at Harry, leaving the decision to him.

"Aye, you'll go, too," Harry said.

"Ta," Will said. "I've got something for you."

He burrowed under his pillow and came out with a long, thin object wrapped in a rag. He held it out. Harry took the bundle and unrolled it. His knife, cleaned and oiled, lay on his palm.

"Found it in the stream," Will said, "after they took you. I been taking care of it for you. Until you was ready for it again."

It was the most Harry had ever heard from the boy's mouth.

Harry smiled. "Ta, Will."

GEORGE TOUCHED THE LITTLE SWAN swimming on her pillow. It was the second carving Harry had given her. The first had been a rearing horse. He'd been gone from her seven days, but he hadn't left the neighborhood. That much was obvious from the tiny carvings he'd somehow placed on her bed.

"Gave you another one, has he, my lady?" Tiggle bustled about the room, putting away her dress and gathering soiled things for the laundry.George picked up the swan. "Yes."

She'd questioned the servants after the first carving. n.o.body had seen Harry enter or leave Woldsly, not even Oscar, who kept the irregular hours of a bachelor. Her middle brother had remained behind after Tony had left for London. Oscar said it was to keep her and Violet company, but she suspected the real reason had more to do with his creditors in London.

"Romantic of Mr. Pye, isn't it?" Tiggle sighed.

"Or irritating." George wrinkled her nose at the swan and placed it carefully on her dressing table beside the horse.

"Or irritating, I guess, my lady," Tiggle agreed.

The maid came over and laid a hand on George's shoulder, gently pressing her into the chair before the dressing table. She took up the silver-backed brush and began to stroke it through George's hair. Tiggle started at the ends and worked to the roots, teasing out the tangles. George closed her eyes.

"Men don't always see things the same way we do, if you don't mind me saying so, my lady."

"I can't help but think that Mr. Pye was dropped on his head as a baby." George squeezed her eyes shut. "Why won't he come back to me?"