Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,26
that soon became an insatiable need to plunder.
She pushed her hands inside his greatcoat and gripped his firm buttocks, sinking her fingers into his flesh as he thrust so wildly into her mouth she could barely breathe. He rocked his hips against her with a carnality that said their joining would be explosive.
Take what you want, Finlay.
Take what you need.
Take me any way you please.
Their pleasurable moans ripped through the stillness. Lust’s coil wound tighter. Oh, just the thought of having Finlay Cole spreading her wide, filling her full, almost made her climax.
But the rattle of an approaching carriage doused desire’s flames.
Finlay tore his mouth away, leaving her gasping, wanting, deprived. Still, his heaving chest and glazed eyes proved a wondrous sight to behold. Would he have made love to her against the tree trunk? Not knowing would lead to sleepless nights in the week to come.
The carriage slowed, but continued on.
Finlay stole a glance at the vehicle. “It’s the same carriage that stopped at the gate,” he said, “though it’s heading back to London.”
They stood in silence as their breathing slowed and the sound of creaking carriage wheels faded into the distance. Finlay looked at her numerous times but said nothing.
They should discuss the kiss, but she sensed he needed time to process what had occurred. Any conversation would be futile. Besides, they were supposed to be finding Jessica, not seeking ways to reignite their passion.
“We should hurry back to the house before Fitzroy finds the hidden entrance to Blackborne,” she said, the mere notion chilling her blood.
Would there ever be a time when she wasn’t afraid?
Would there ever be an end to this nightmare?
Finlay stepped back and offered his hand. The gesture seemed so natural now it brought a flicker of hope for the future.
They returned to the house the way they came. Anne met them upon their arrival and confirmed that Jessica was not in her chamber. Mrs Friswell had conducted a thorough search, too, and delivered the same depressing news.
“We should check the gardens, the stable block,” Finlay said in the measured tones of an enquiry agent, not the dulcet tones of an enthusiastic lover. “Then we’ll follow the path into the woods, the one I used when I arrived.”
Jessica wasn’t hiding in the stables, nor was she loitering near the cottage or kennels. She wasn’t in the barn or sitting on the moat edge, dangling her feet and skimming stones.
“We should check the summerhouse before we enter the woods again,” she said, directing him to the gravel path leading to the gardens.
He followed her, though seemed pensive. And so it came as no surprise when he declared, “I have something to say, Sophia, though I doubt you’ll approve.”
Was this where he insisted the kiss had been a mistake? It couldn’t happen again. Nothing good would come from rediscovering feelings long since buried.
“Then you may as well say it and get it over with.”
“Very well.” Finlay sighed. “It’s not safe here. We should return to London tomorrow and take Jessica with us. You think keeping her at Blackborne is for the best, but I disagree.”
A rush of elation stole her voice. There was something possessive about the way he said we and us, and he’d not lamented the erotic kiss they’d shared. But fear slipped into her heart like wind between the plaster cracks.
“If I take Jessica to London, Fitzroy will discover the truth within a matter of days. He’s already found his way here, and I suspect his recent demands are merely a ploy to distract my attention.”
“Recent demands?”
“Fitzroy wrote to say he expects me to attend a function he’s hosting upon his return to town.” Sophia led him across the dew-soaked grass towards the summerhouse with the cathedral roof. “Since things became difficult here, I’ve ignored all correspondence and rarely venture to town. Perhaps that’s why he sought me out, though heaven knows how he discovered I own this house.”
“When is this function?”
“I cannot recall. There’s a soiree after the performance of Presumption at the English Opera House. It’s a play about the fate of Dr Frankenstein. Mrs Shelley is to attend.”
She hated his foppish friends, and Fitzroy enjoyed making her feel uncomfortable. But she had promised William she would support the young lord until he found a bride. It was a promise she had come to regret.
Finlay stopped walking. “But that’s two days hence.”
“Is it? No wonder Fitzroy is out on the hunt.” And he could only have learnt about Blackborne from one