Lady Derring Takes a Lover - Julie Anne Long Page 0,76
marvelous at boisterous sex on a velvet settee in a boardinghouse by the docks. With someone who patently wasn’t a gentleman.
She certainly wouldn’t feel exultant. Yet she was. Whatever brutal forces had shaped this man into this taciturn, unyielding person, she was glad to take and give comfort and surcease.
Delilah, I need you.
She wondered if he’d realized he’d said that.
Then again, the things she’d said shocked her.
She stirred to rise.
He shifted to allow her.
But first he laced his hands through the mussed wreckage of her braid and kissed her, so slowly, so softly, that delicious, wicked pooling of heat started up between her legs and she was amazed to realize that, given the slightest encouragement, she’d do it all over again on this settee, which likely wouldn’t be able to stand the strain.
Perhaps it had something to do with being naked.
She found her night dress on the floor, and hurriedly clutched it to her.
“Delilah . . .” he said softly, suddenly. And her name almost sounded like a song.
She turned to him. It sounded portentous, and it alarmed her how her heart leaped with anticipation. Of what, she didn’t know.
“The things you said . . . well, I reckon you need to put at least a pound in the jar.”
Chapter Nineteen
Next morning, sitting at the work table in the kitchen just as Helga was beginning the day by beating eggs and shouting orders to the scullery maids, Delilah succinctly and in a low voice told Angelique about Mr. Brinker, touching upon just the salient points—well dressed, wealthy, supercilious toad, squeezed her breast, was hell bent on rape until Captain Hardy pulled a pistol on him and put a dent in the little table with his head.
She didn’t embellish with emotion. She didn’t really need to.
Angelique was pale and silent.
“But at least we still have his three sovereigns,” Delilah concluded.
They both smiled blackly.
Similar senses of humor certainly helped get them through their days.
“Are you all right, Delilah?” Angelique touched her knee. “It’s a terribly shocking thing, and I’m just . . . I’m so very sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m surprisingly very good. Not a nick on me.”
Angelique tipped her head and studied her. Then narrowed her eyes. “You do look unusually radiant.”
“Mmm,” Delilah said.
She felt radiant, and a little sore in a marvelous way, but she wasn’t about to say that. It was as though life had acquired an entirely new dimension. One where all the colors and feelings were kept.
Angelique continued her perusal of her, seemed to be considering saying something, thought better of it. “Did you tell Dot?”
“We can’t tell Dot. It will destroy her.”
“She likes opening the door, however. She finds it fun to discover who’s out there. I think you need to tell her a very little, enough to genuinely scare her into not opening the door after a certain hour, but not enough to inspire her to don a hair shirt over it.”
“Very well.” Delilah sighed. “We need to hire footmen, perhaps. Or carry little knives in our bodices.”
“I believe you are right. I think we need at least one footman,” Angelique said, fretfully. “Blast it. Men eat so much and they’ll want to be paid.”
They both smiled at this.
Though with the new sovereigns Mr. Brinker had left behind, hiring a footman was now a possibility. Quite the irony.
Would any footman want to work in a household brim full of females?
Helga was now singing a little song in German.
“Delilah . . . what on earth was Captain Hardy doing in the drawing room at midnight?” Angelique said suddenly.
Delilah went still. She hadn’t considered this. It was, in fact, a good question.
“Perhaps he couldn’t sleep and heard voices? Went in search of a late-night libation?”
“He heard voices over the sound of Delacorte snoring?”
It was, in fact, a very good question.
“Do you know what Brinker said when he was flat on his back, blood oozing from his nose? ‘Oh, you’re that Captain Hardy.’ What do you suppose he meant?”
Angelique looked thoughtful.
Then shook her head. “I couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe Brinker was simply dazed from the blow to the head.”
“That must be it,” Delilah said blithely. “Helga, do you think we can have extra sausage for breakfast? I am starving.”
A night of unforgettable lovemaking put Tristan in a downright sprightly mood. He was bounding out through the foyer to have a look at his ship and to meet Massey for breakfast when a dulcet female voice called from the drawing room.