A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(62)

She had to come. She had to come first.

Which meant she had to come soon.

Please, Susanna. Please.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head rolled back. Her pale swan’s neck stretched into an elegant, erotic curve, gleaming like quicksilver in the dark. So lovely, it made his heart ache.

“God, you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

Her body tightened around his, and she cried out. He rode the exquisite wave of her climax as long as he dared. And when he knew he couldn’t last another thrust without spilling, he pulled free of her tight, clasping embrace and took himself in hand. He spent his seed all over the sweet, rounded slope of her belly—not into a fold of his shirt or her shift, as might have been the more gentlemanly manner. In some primitive way, it satisfied him to mark her.

You’re mine now.

He lowered himself beside her, curling his body around hers and caging her with his limbs. The protective impulses swelling inside him were almost more than he could bear. They choked his speech for a moment.

“Are you well?” he asked, once he could manage words.

“Yes.” She nestled into his chest, and he tightened an arm around her, drawing her close. “Oh, Bram. I never dreamed it could be that way.”

Neither did I, he felt like saying. Neither did I.

He’d had his share of tumbles, and he’d always enjoyed them thoroughly. But it had never been like this. It seemed impossible that they’d grown so close, so fast. But here they were, and he wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. He pressed a kiss to her hair and held it, inhaling deep of her sweet, fresh scent.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” he said, failing to muster any hint of regret.

“I know.” She sighed, sounding equally uncontrite. “But I’m so glad we did. It was lovely.”

“It was more than lovely. It was . . .” He grasped for another word and came up empty.

“Indescribable?” He heard the smile in her voice. “Yes. It was.”

A sudden noise made him freeze. Angry shouting, originating from somewhere a fair distance away . . . but even so, all too near.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, clutching him tight.

And then the crash of breaking glass jolted them apart.

Bram hurried to gain his feet, then extended a hand to help her do the same. Individually, they began reassembling garments without further discussion. Ignoring the noise was never an option. Whatever disturbance had occurred, it would no doubt require one—or both—of them to sort it out. Their idyllic interlude was over. Duty called.

Bram had his breeches refastened in a matter of moments. He turned to help Susanna with her gown.

“I can manage,” she said, tilting her head toward the unknown source of the commotion. “Go on ahead.”

He took her at her word, dashing out from beneath the willow’s canopy and making his way across the green.

There, in the lane between the All Things shop and the Blushing Bull, or the Rutting Pansy, or whatever it was called tonight—a small crowd had formed. The way the men bunched and jostled in a ring, Bram suspected fisticuffs had broken out.

He pushed his way to the center, eager to break up the fight before any more damage could be done, to bodies, property, or morale. Much as he’d hoped to imbue his men with a bit of red-blooded combative spirit, it wasn’t meant to be directed within the ranks.

However, he didn’t find any of his men at the center of the circle.

He found the boys. Rufus and Finn, rolling around on the ground. Scrapping but good, with fists swinging—and teeth and knees involved, too. By the looks of the scene, they’d tumbled straight through the tea shop’s front window. Shards of broken glass and bits of window leading covered the ground.

“Dodgy bastard,” one of the twins spat. A trickle of blood from his temple made it hard to tell which one.

“Shite for brains,” the other replied, reversing their positions and landing a punch to the gut. “We’re twins. If I’m a bastard, you’re one too.”

“You’re the only one what’s a lying scum.”

As they rolled, glass crunched beneath them. Time to put a stop to this, Bram decided. He reached out and plucked the topmost Bright twin—he still didn’t know which—off the other. “That’ll be enough, you two. What’s going on here?”

“Rufus started it,” one said, pointing.

“Aye, but it’s Finn’s fault,” the other shot back, dabbing the blood at his temple.

Well, at least now Bram had their identities sorted out. He turned to Rufus. “What happened?”

Rufus glared at his brother. “He lied to Miss Charlotte, he did. Danced with her twice. First, as himself. Then once again, saying he was me.”

Finn just tugged his ear and grinned. “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it.”

“I’ll pound you, you little—” Rufus lunged, but Bram held him back.

“Hold there,” he said. “Both of you.” Once he had both boys by the collar, he cast a glance at Charlotte Highwood, who looked as excited as any fourteen-year-old girl could be about having two boys fight over her attentions. She surely wasn’t going to be of any help in calming them. The crowd of onlookers appeared more amused than anything.