The Midnight Rake Part 16

"You make me want everything, every bit of you, chere amie." His voice, no more than a silky rasp.

His hands spanned her waist as he kissed her again, his tongue curling against hers in a devilish caress, and she had the dizzying sensation of falling and floating, helplessly succ.u.mbing to a tide of pa.s.sion rippling through her with increasing intensity.

The coaxing pressure of his hands moved her backward and he lifted her easily, setting her atop the quilt-covered table with extreme care. His hot searing kiss eased her down to the tabletop while the heat of his body enveloped her. He paused, only the slightest movement as he broke their embrace.

"Are you alright, cherie?"

She thought she heard him catch his breath and knew he would stop if she gave the slightest indication, but she'd never dreamed such exquisite sensations existed. Answering quickly, her smile in her words, "This is very naughty," she couldn't conceal the breathy note of desire. "But it feels so good."

He claimed another hot kiss. "You..." He nuzzled the corner of her mouth, his tongue catching in a devilish flick. "Are a continual surprise."

He paused to remove his shirt in an effortless motion and she watched him, fascinated with the corded beauty of his chest. His arms were banded with finely chiseled muscles, each smooth flex an invitation to touch. She bit her lower lip before coasting her trembling fingertips across his skin. He was all squared power and tight sinew and she splaying her palms over his hard body, wishing to memorize the strong contours and shadowed crease of each movement. Her eyes glimpsed the hair at the center of his chest and she itched to bury her fingers, to pull him closer and experience the erotic delight of his bare chest against hers.

He called her name and his intense stare robbed her of breath, her eyes shyly watching as he unb.u.t.toned the front of her night rail and bunched the fabric at her waist.

"You are absolute perfection, every inch of you." A low growl punctuated his statement. "And I intend to taste every inch."

He caressed her cheek, before kissing a hot path down her neck, across her shoulders to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s where he suckled and lathed each peak with reverence and attention. He nibbled and nipped until she ached with need and something else she couldn't rightfully name but knew her body demanded.

Each time he brought her into his mouth, a maelstrom of sensations tightened and built like a storm deep inside. When his hand kneaded her breast, it was little relief, teasing the sensitive peak, pinching and grazing it between his fingertips with tortuous delight. She was wet with the want to feel him touch her where the feelings began and grew, demanding attention. She wriggled impatiently and his chuckle against her skin was a sensual rasp.

"What is it, my love? Do you not like this? Do you want me to stop?"

His words vibrated against the flat of her stomach and an overpowering rush of sensation p.r.i.c.kled her skin, winding and tightening below. She ached for him to touch her there, to make the feelings stop and never stop. His body boxed hers in, his strength filling the narrow s.p.a.ce between them. Her hands braced his biceps, her fingers holding firm, as she raised her bottom, the slightest movement. He murmured something she could not comprehend, his hands coasting over her thighs, easing them apart, while he whispered French words and delicious endearments she couldn't understand but nevertheless cherished.

His palms rested at the apex of her thighs and he slowly ran his fingertip downward, parting the damp intimate curls of her mound. Her body trembled with the sensual caress.

"Phineas." Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.

"What do you want me to do, my sweet? Do you wish me to stop?" A note of tender amus.e.m.e.nt laced his words.

She could barely whisper her request. "Touch me. Please. I need you-" She drew a tremulous breath. "Touch me there."

He waited no longer, bringing the warm velvet of his kiss down to hers with a groan of desire lost inside the sweetness of her mouth. Obediently his fingers parted her, sliding between the slick folds of her s.e.x, giving her everything she asked for and more, her mind spinning, her body awash with sensation.

Too soon he pulled away, a scant s.p.a.ce, and she knew he watched her, her eyes closed long before as she could no longer think or reason, her soft cries of pleasure filling the silent room with shameless desperation.

"You are so wet, Penelope, so lovely and tight and deliciously wet for me."

He murmured her name, a deep timbre in the near-darkness, and the sensation building within her tightened, coiled, wrapping her in ecstasy the same way her fingers twisted the quilt beneath her. Her nails sc.r.a.ped the tabletop, evoking the scent of lemon oil amidst the musky scent of their love play.

Her need grew unbearably impatient. No sooner did he draw his fingers from her then he slid them back inside, each time a little deeper, a little fuller, his thumb rubbing the peak of her s.e.x in exquisite circles, her hips matching the motion with an erotic cadence, the tumult of building pa.s.sion unbearably wonderful. It was all too much, the sleek friction of his fingertips, the cool pressure of the ring he wore against the hot heat of her body, the sweet scent of their ardor.

She strained to withhold a moan, biting her bottom lip, skimming her palms across his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair, and seeking an anchor; all the while his maddening caresses did not stop, her pulse set in an erratic race that threatened to overtake her. This overwhelming bliss, each tantalizing stroke, intensified and subsided in a persistent rhythm urging her towards something out of reach and unknown, beautiful and unexplainable. In a silky rasp he whispered sensual endearments and erotic images, urging her to find what she sought and she wanted it with all her being. It teased and tempted, so close, the pleasure he promised.

Without cause, he withdrew his touch entirely. Her eyes shot open, his startling action forcing her to immediate awareness where she remained suspended for a heartbeat, an eternal moment until he lowered his mouth to her sensitive flesh. He delved his tongue between her folds and Penelope was lost.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Phineas gazed at Penny sound asleep in her bed. Ever since they'd met, the unexplainable desire to protect her owned his heart, no matter he'd sworn not to get involved. Not an errand of conscience or annoying inconvenience, he'd accepted her troubles as his, his vow nothing more than a lie.

Now everything had changed. His one misplaced desire splintered into a hundred different emotions. He loved her. Completely. Neither planned nor arranged, but glorious all the same, and he looked forward to telling her once she woke. Then he'd kiss her breathless with the same unrelenting urgency he experienced whenever she was near.

After their shared intimacy, they'd spent the better part of the evening talking and he reveled that she'd confessed the burden of her hardships. He didn't elaborate on his plans with Ridley. There was no need, even though Penny granted him permission to intercede on her behalf. He'd earned her trust and the realization warmed his heart.

Not wishing to wake her but unable to stop touching her, he tenderly stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Her creamy skin, as smooth as porcelain, ignited a spark of desire. How he wished he could have prevented the unpleasant circ.u.mstances that caused her shame and embarra.s.sment, even if those very same circ.u.mstances carried her into his arms.

He moved from the bed and withdrew the cameo from his pocket. His lucky penny dropped to the floor and rolled across the floorboards, but he didn't bend to retrieve it, too absorbed in examining the remarkable workmanship of the brooch. Penelope explained the gold pin as a cherished family heirloom, but its importance went beyond sentimental value. If he were to discover the truth concerning the jeweled piece, he could solve all of her problems and at last, bring her the peace she deserved.

Anxious to discover answers, he planned to visit Dorothy Livingston and probe her knowledge of fine jewelry. The woman knew gems the same way he studied horseflesh and if the cameo proved a Dilgano, then more evidence existed to connect Arlis Ridley to the crime. He'd like nothing more than to see the man behind bars.

Ironic, the recent turn of events. If he hadn't sought answers for Julia concerning Winton's odd behavior, he'd never have played Ridley in piquet. In an odd manner, they were all interwoven. His suspicions of Ridley's motives and possession of the cameo remained the one bit of information withheld, but he hesitated in telling Penny, concerned the knowledge would lead her to harm's way. And too, the explanation placed him smack in the middle of a pact of questions with no ready answers.

Resolute, his eyes skimmed over Penny's serene face bathed in the bedside candlelight, her hair strewn across the pillows in intimate disarray, her pink lips blissfully parted in sleep. No matter what answers he discovered in his quest for truth, one vow remained ever present: Arlis Ridley would pay for the pain he'd caused the Rosebery family. Phineas looked forward to delivering retribution.

Downstairs everything appeared quiet. Rounding the hall, he eased himself into a corner outside the drawing room and shadowed Aubry as she pressed her ear to the crease of the door intent on hearing the conversation inside. She was so engrossed in her eavesdropping, she didn't register his presence. He knew his question would catch her off guard. It delighted him in the same manner he enjoyed tormenting his sister, to startle Aubry when she was caught doing no good.

"What are we trying to hear?" His exaggerated whisper was as amusing as her surprised reaction. "May I help?"

Registering his intrusion, she wrinkled her nose and swatted him on the shoulder. "How polite of you not to point out my shameful display of poor manners and instead offer a.s.sistance in my misbehavior. Well done."

Her voice held a note of playful sarcasm and he readily continued the jest. "If you're disappointed, I will endeavor to be more forthcoming in listing your flaws." He offered her a broad smile, full knowing she would detect his teasing note.

"Now do be quiet." Her expression transformed into one of latent determination. She leaned in and pressed her ear to the door. "I need to hear the conversation inside. It's extremely important."

"Surely you jest? Something serious in the drawing room at this hour? Pray tell. What is my mother up to now? Is she teaching the parrot more phrases with which to irritate me? What time is it anyway?" He glanced over his shoulder to the grandfather clock, unconvinced whatever transpired in the drawing room could be of great interest. His mind reeled from the sensual escapade he'd shared with Penelope only hours before. He'd prefer not to think about anything else for a good long while. Or at least until he arrived at Dorothy Livingston's residence.

"It's half past two. Have you also slept the day away? My sister has yet to rise. One would think the two of you stayed up to all hours of the night."

Phineas thanked the heavens for Aubry's innocence or else the gleam in his eye and contented grin would reveal how closely her exasperated comment mirrored the truth. Fortunately she misconstrued his expression.

"I'm serious. You should be too." She served him a stern look. If she wagged a finger at him during her admonishment, he swore he would be hard pressed not to laugh.

"Your mother is in there with my aunt and my cousin, Carrick. They swept into the drawing room without so much as a greeting before closing the doors. Why would my sister choose this morning to remain asleep past noon? She's never been a slugabed and her maid told me she asked specifically not to be disturbed."

He was the one who instructed the maid not to disturb his lovely Penny, and there was no need to elucidate the misunderstanding. Another devilish smile broke through before he forced the night's remembrances from his mind. Aubry appeared distraught by the circ.u.mstances. He should pay heed to her warning.

Aubry eyed him with concentration. "Carrick's presence here cannot bode well for Penelope. He's pursued her hand with vigor since before she turned sixteen."

"What?" His territorial warning spurred Aubry's attention away from the closed door. "Oh, we'll have none of that."

"Do not think he's here to press his suit? Would your mother allow it? She couldn't possibly think to exchange Penny's hand for yours to Lizzie's, could she?"

All humor dissipated with the blunt consideration. His mother was of a devious nature, but unkind and conniving, never had she been.

He twisted the bra.s.s doork.n.o.b, stepped into the room and promptly shut it behind him, offering Aubry an apologetic nod in the process. Certain she would return to her previous position, eavesdropping would serve her purpose as raised voices were sure to follow. Anger and jealousy unfurled as each step propelled him forward. The scene before him hardly a.s.suaged his temper. His mother, seated beside Lady Bretton, appeared engrossed in covert conversation as thick as thieves caught in the middle of a robbery. At his unexpected entrance, she called out with a smile.

"What impeccable timing."

Maman appeared inordinately pleased that he would force himself into the room without knocking. Phineas raised his guard. His mother should have remarked on his sudden lack of etiquette and the lapse in her usual behavior made him instantly suspicious.

"Lady Bretton and Lord Carrick are taking tea. May I pour you a cup?" She indicated the tea service with a wave of her hand. "We have much to discuss."

"I rather doubt that."

His mother turned to her guests and lowered her voice in comment. "Quelle horreur! I don't know what gets into him at times."

Her gilded amus.e.m.e.nt proved her downfall. On any other day, Maman would have joyfully plucked out his eyes had he committed such a grievous mistake as to choose the wrong fork during dinner service. To test his theory, he leaned toward the refreshment tray and popped the last sugarplum into his mouth. He should push his mother's limits and speak with his mouth full of sugar and fruit.

"We're discussing how we may help each other and a.s.sist Penelope and Aubry. They've had a terrible go of it. Were you aware of the extent of their difficulties?"

He eyed his mother with curiosity. Had he wrongly perceived the situation? Could it be his mother was not scheming in some manner?

"I'm aware of their plight." He did not expound on the subject, as he'd only learned the full of it less than a few hours ago. "By inviting the ladies to live here and regain reputation within the ton, you've offered the opportunity to amend their situation. Is there something else you wished to discuss?"

He knew the answer to the question before he asked it, but he threw down the bait to test the waters. Would Maman admit she wished he'd declare Penelope as his own or would she continue to prod him with little attempts at jealously and manipulative mayhem?

Maman appeared nonplussed.

"Lord Carrick offered a better solution. He has pursued Penelope's hand for years now and would generously propose-"

His eyes skewered the stout male perched in the chair to his right. Phineas best get to the purpose. "Maman, agreeing to a.s.sist Penelope here in London does not allow you the privilege of matchmaking her future. She is of age and does not require a guardian. This conversation would be better served were she able to voice her own decision. Certainly, Penny does not deserve any further pressure after the recent troubles she has endured." His pointed glare said everything his statements had not. "To that end, I have a query." The older woman's disgruntled expression mirrored her son's at the quick dismissal of the previous topic. "Penelope has mentioned to me an heirloom cameo belonging to her mother."

"The Dilgano?"

Carrick moved forward on his chair. The mention of the cameo grabbed the man's attention with far more interest than the suggestion he marry his first cousin.

But Lady Bretton answered first. "My family has known about the Dilgano for years. My sister treasured the cameo and brought it to her marriage although it became a source of unhappiness. She treasured the cameo as a work of art. Her husband viewed it as a means to vault status. We were all heartbroken to learn of the cameo's disappearance." She paused as if deliberating her words. "Do you know of its whereabouts? Does my niece have it in her possession?"

No one could ignore the woman's specious tone. Nor could Phineas dismiss the fact the room had grown silent as a tomb. Maman cleared her throat in a small feminine manner and eyed him with urgency.

d.a.m.n it all! He had no desire to let anyone know he held the cameo. If it belonged to Penelope, by no means would he invite trouble until he understood the situation further. Carrick's inordinate interest p.r.i.c.ked his suspicions and the automatic a.s.sumption that Dilgano crafted the cameo made him wary. Could it be his lady love had a fortune all her own? The thought instigated suspicion. Was Carrick's motive to gain a wife or possess the Dilgano? After meeting the man, only a nitwit would perceive his intentions n.o.ble.

He chanced a glance to his mother and met her piercing glare. He needed to offer some sort of reply that bordered on the truth.

"Penelope confided in me that the cameo was stolen. With the death of her father, the loss of her securities and the embarra.s.sment of her situation, I am sure you feel only regret and compa.s.sion for your niece. What troubles me most is that the theft remains unresolved." He strove for succinct politeness. "If you could shed light on the cameo's origin, I hope to trace its whereabouts. If it proves as valuable as suggested, it should not be hard to locate if sold publicly." Intuition confessed everyone in the room held a secret. Phin scanned the occupants and waited for a response, eyeing Carrick with interest. The anxious look displayed on the corpulent man's face convinced him the impetus for his marriage proposal was rooted in greed. Thank G.o.d no one resorted to forcing Penelope to accept the offer. Without a doubt until Maman graciously invited the ladies to London, they remained without protection. His eyes skimmed to his mother, his esteem of her perceptiveness and genuine compa.s.sion raised another notch.

Across the room Mon Ami released a high-pitched squawk and startled everyone from their private musings.

"Do inform me if you locate the brooch." Carrick stood, his reply colored with scornful disdain. "We remain genuinely concerned."

Maman escorted her visitors to the door and he watched from the window as their carriage pulled down the front drive and faded out of sight. For blood relations, they didn't seem even mildly concerned with their familial welfare, nor the hardships of the confusing predicament. The meeting spoke volumes as to why Penelope's mother never established a close bond with her sister or why her father had broken off altogether.

He poured himself a brandy, his mind awhirl with haphazard conclusions and unanswered questions. Taking a long sip, he made to depart for Lady Livingston's residence when Dorothy entered the room. It could only be Providence when the one woman he thought to seek out arrived at his doorstep in timely manner. Providence, indeed. He reached into his trouser pocket to brush his fingertips against his lucky coin, but it wasn't there.

"What brought that little troll to Betcham House?" Dorothy placed her reticule on the sofa table and advanced into the room, the thump of her cane emphatic on the Persian carpet. "Please tell me he is not a new friend."

"h.e.l.lo, Dorothy." Phineas greeted his mother's closest friend, more surrogate aunt than stranger. "I a.s.sume you refer to Lord Carrick." He took another sip of brandy and sat down once Dorothy settled on a chaise.

"Yes, unfortunately. The detestable little lackwit tried with considerable effort to convince me to sell my Dilgano last year. He became so insistent, my butler needed to forcibly remove him from my drawing room. Vickers refers to the incident whenever his back gives him trouble." She let out a sound of disgruntled annoyance and placed her cane against the end table.

"Well, that explains a few things."

Dorothy smiled in his direction, all evidence of her previous emotion gone.

"Where is your mother? I have something I wish to discuss with her. I take it she is in house if the visitors have just departed."

"She is here." He reached for his gla.s.s only to discover it empty. "That troll is Penelope's first cousin on her mother's side. Carrick came to offer for her hand." He forced the latter bit past his lips, offensive as it was. The thought of Carrick touching Penelope shot a ripple of revulsion straight through him. Dorothy appeared equally appalled.

"My word, Penelope becomes more interesting each time I discover something new. Fascinating girl. Intriguing, actually." She paused but for emphasis or simply because she waited for his reply, he could not tell. "How did Bretton take the slapdown?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask my mother for the particulars. Thankfully I wasn't present when it occurred." He steeped his fingers and pressed with considerable force. "He is completely unworthy of her."

"And you have a nasty left hook." Dorothy smiled with the quip. "The Bretton's are anxious aristocracy. Your mother and I could never abide the att.i.tude. I'm surprised she entertained their company." She paused briefly. "I suppose it was unavoidable with Penelope living here. Thankfully I dissuaded her of the idea Elizabeth would make you a suitable wife. Although I doubt your mother considered it with seriousness. Now everything should follow seamlessly."

"I do owe you a debt."

"Not at all. Where is your lovely little flower anyway?"

He started to attention. The mention of Penelope and the remembrance of why she was not below stairs brought a well needed smile to his face. He reached into his pocket and produced the cameo. As soon as Dorothy saw it in his offered hand, her face lit with astonishment.

"Where did you get this?"

She cradled the brooch reverently.

"It's not mine. It belongs to Penny. Her mother's, actually. We're attempting to discern its authenticity. I aimed to visit your home before Carrick interrupted my errand. You're an expert on matters like this and until I visit Rundell and Bridge, I meant to solicit your advice."

The playful mood of only a few words before was replaced with a solemnity that held Phineas silent. Dorothy's eyes watered and her hand trembled as she gazed down at the cameo broach in her palm. He moved closer and without hesitation, she returned the pin.

"It's a Dilgano, of that I am sure."

He glanced at the delicate piece. "I would hate for Penny to have further disappointment. Are you absolutely certain?"

"Without a doubt. It's the third of the five Dilganos I've located. Two are in my possession."

The melancholic tone in her voice forced him to hesitate, but he needed answers to ease Penny's worry. "It's of great value then?"

"Monetary value? Yes. To own a Dilgano is to have ensured wealth for a lifetime. The cameo will increase in worth as time pa.s.ses. It is an heirloom and a keepsake."

"And?" he prodded gently.

"Sentimental value. There is no price to be placed on the emotional meaning of such an exquisite piece."