As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(70)
His mouth captured hers, hot and hungry, once again making her head spin. He kissed her breath away, and she trembled when his hands reached up to cup her face between his palms to hold her mouth still beneath the intensity of his kiss. With her breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest, she could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, each beat pulsing into her until she couldn’t tell if the pounding heartbeat was hers or his.
She tore her mouth away and panted for breath, desperately needing air to clear away the swirling confusion spinning through her. Her hands grasped his wrists to keep him from reaching for her again, because this time she didn’t think she’d have the strength to stop him.
“But you also want the partnership, and you cannot have both,” she countered in a whisper filled with pain as the impossible truth sliced brutally into her. “Which do you want more, Robert?” Her voice was little more than a breathless whisper as she laid out the choice for him, the one she feared she would lose—“Winslow Shipping or me?”
He stared down at her, his face unreadable in the shadows.
But that moment’s indecision ripped through her soul like a dagger of ice. Shaking her head, with tears blurring her eyes no matter how fiercely she blinked them away, she pushed against him to slip out of his arms—
“Mariah?” A feminine voice broke the silence of the garden. “Where are you?”
She startled with a surprised gasp. Then she moved away from Robert to put several feet between them. But there wasn’t room in all of London to hide what they’d been doing if anyone came upon them.
“Robert?” The woman called out. Then faint irritation darkened her voice, “For goodness’ sake! One of you has to be out here. I’ve searched everywhere else.”
Oh God…the duchess. Mortification swept through her so strongly that she thought she might be ill. With all of her shaking, Mariah frantically shed Robert’s jacket and shoved it at him. “Go,” she urged in a fierce whisper. “Go to her.”
He shook his head and reached for her. “Mariah—”
“Just go!” she choked out. “We can’t let her find us like this. You’ll lose the partnership, and I’ll—” I’ll lose everything. Her cheeks heated with humiliation. And panic. If the duchess stumbled upon them like this, they’d be forced to marry; she’d cost him the partnership, and he’d resent her for it. She couldn’t bear that! “Tell her that I’m inside in the retiring room, or off with Evie. Tell her anything.” She shoved him away. “Please, Robert, go!”
As his mother called out again, this time from much closer, he grudgingly capitulated with a curse. He ducked beneath the branches and paused only a moment to cast her a parting glance.
“This isn’t over,” he warned, then walked away into the garden, toward the duchess.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Mariah collapsed against the tree trunk and hung her head in her hands. All of her shook as the emotions raged inside her, as humiliation and desire and loss all threatened to overwhelm her.
Not over. Exactly what worried her.
When her breathing had calmed and her heart no longer pounded so hard that each beat sent a jolt of pain echoing through her chest, she drew her spine up straight and moved out from beneath the tree. The shadow-filled garden was once again silent and empty. For a moment, she stared at the house, lit like a glowing beacon in the night.
Then she turned away and slipped into the darkness.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An hour later, Robert opened the door of the shipping office and met Mariah’s gaze in the dim light from the stove’s coals. He’d spent the last hour crossing London in the dark of night—and the last half of it beneath a flurry of falling snow—yet the sight of her instantly warmed away the cold.
“You’ve found me,” she murmured, her voice as soft as the shadows.
“I told you.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “I know you better than you think.”
When she didn’t return from the garden, he’d searched for her, only to find her missing from the ball. He knew she hadn’t gone home. That she’d be here instead, seeking comfort in the place she loved most in the world.
Yet he wasn’t prepared for the sharp pang in his gut at finding her sitting on the floor like that in front of the small fire, still wearing her ball gown and looking so vulnerable. Or for the intense desire he felt to sweep her into his arms, to give her strength and solace until the wounded fragility in her vanished.
The sensation stunned him. He’d known lots of women, but he’d never wanted to protect or comfort one of them before. That it was Mariah, of all women, surprised the devil out of him. But the minx had him longing to do just that. The desire to keep her safe, to hear her laughter and see the spark of amusement inside her, to share ideas and debates with her—all of that outweighed the far simpler desire to make love to her. He wanted her for the woman she was. All of her. Every last aggravating, troublemaking, wickedly daring inch of her.
As he stared at her, he knew the truth. That after tonight, one way or another, there would be no going back.
He leaned against the door, keeping his distance. For now. “Where else would you have gone but here?”
“The school.” Her chin lifted slightly in proud defiance, and he smiled at the fight in her, even now.