The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(35)
“You’re so beautiful.” He cupped both sides of her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “You need to know that. If I could, I would lavish every inch of you with praise.”
Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes again, willing her heart to beat normally inside her chest. She’d only have to say one word—no—to put an end to whatever this was that had ignited between them. But foolishly, she dared not utter a sound, dared not end this magical moment for fear of losing it forever.
She stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Shower me with praise all ye want, John. I won’t stop ye.”
Ten
The BLACK REGENT must be STOPPED! This PAPER has it on good AUTHORITY Lord B and Lord U met with LOCAL officials to establish a way of DETERMINING if the RUMORS of the REGENT’S nefarious activity are true or false. Lady O insists the DUKE and MARQUESS joined FORCES to offer RESTITUTION to those AFFECTED by these EVENTS.
~ Trewman’s Exeter Flying Post, 6 October 1809
What kind of fool takes advantage of a scared woman?
Walsingham craved Oriana’s taste, her lemony scent, and he wanted to delve into her depths and test her passions. Her beauty, intelligence, and courage attracted him far more than any woman who carried her innocence like a trophy, especially one associated with the aristocracy. But Oriana’s association with a killer put his life and the lives of his men in jeopardy. And unlike a spider guarding its web, he didn’t need to devour the bait entirely to complete his mission.
Taking advantage of what Oriana offered would also make him a cad. She was his only lead to catching the fiend who’d killed his men and threatened his sister’s happiness. He’d promised Chloe he’d watch over Oriana, keep her safe.
Suddenly, it occurred to him the tables might, in actuality, be turned. What other reason would the innkeeper have for venturing downstairs dressed in her nightclothes? Was she willing to go so far as to seduce him to keep him from discovering Carnage’s cache? A sobering revelation if ever he’d had one.
Walsingham rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, concentrating on keeping his heartbeat steady, his blood in his brain, and his mind on his mission as Oriana’s mouth relaxed and her lips eased open with invitation.
Girard and O’Malley claimed she was innocent of her brother’s treachery. Her association with the devil put her in peril, but she was his only connection to Carnage, a man who wanted his own sister dead.
“Well?” she asked, seemingly impatient. “Are ye goin’ to kiss me?”
Raw emotion, barely grasped in his consciousness, pried open his walls. “You do not want our association to go that far, Miss.”
“Oriana,” she reminded him. Her green eyes reflected the firelight, and she spoke just above a whisper. “I asked ye to call me Oriana.”
Christ, she was going to be the death of him. He wanted to succumb to her charms, but he had no right to her. As it was, he’d almost died before Jarvis had come to warn him that someone was moving about upstairs. He couldn’t bear to think what would have happened if Fergus had succeeded in killing him, or if she had appeared, catching Fergus in the act, and had been killed because of it. By damn, neither of them would be standing here if that had been the case.
“Oriana?”
Her breath came out in a throaty sigh. “Aye?”
Walsingham’s chest tightened as he struggled to find the right words to put an end to the temptation she posed to him. “Perhaps you should go back to bed.”
He was no good for her. He had nothing to offer—no home, no name. He’d investigated the premises, nearly been killed for his trouble, required Jarvis to help cover his tracks, and managed by sheer luck to shut the cellar door before she’d arrived in the kitchen. He’d taken refuge in the tavern and sprinkled ale on his clothes to appear as though he’d been imbibing for hours. His ruse had worked. She’d appeared to believe him, until she’d caught his slip of the tongue.
“Is that really what ye want, John?” she asked, lifting her brow quizzically.
His heart tugged. “If I had to guess . . .” He inhaled a stabilizing breath and gazed down at her beautiful, upturned face. “I’d say you had been drinking, not I.”
More’s the pity. At least then he would be able to resist her advances on the grounds that only a scalawag took advantage of a woman in her cups.
“Ye and I both know ye weren’t drinking, John. Ye were either waitin’ for me to appear downstairs or . . .” She glanced at the hearth. “Or ye had other plans.”
Damn it, she was savvy, sassy, and unafraid to call him to task. A pirate could do no better than a determined vixen like this one by his side. “Would you like to know why I came downstairs?”
“No. Ye are here now, and that’s enough for me. I don’t need liquor to heighten my courage,” she said. “Life is fleetin’. Kiss me, John.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he explained.
“Aye,” she insisted. “I do.”
He became suddenly aware of the space lingering between them, her alluring warmth, and the almond contour of her eyes. Firelight flickered over her, dancing over her alabaster skin. Her oval face was devoid of flaw, reminding him how young and untried she was. The thought of taking her in the kitchen now, of entering her tight channel, made his cock twitch and his fingers itch to pull her against his hardness.