Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

watched as he shrugged out of his jacket and reached inside his waistcoat, pulling out what had to be her sister’s letters. “We’re not going to read them.”

      She grabbed the packet, could feel its thickness. Mari had always been long-winded. “No. No, of course not.” Her fingers strayed to the tied length of black grosgrain ribbon. “Not even one?”

      “Not even one,” Coop told her, taking them from her and tossing them behind his back, where they landed with a soft thud on the carpet. “I think we have much better things to do right now, don’t you?”

      “Here? Now? But what if...?”

      “Dany, are you seriously telling me to leave?”

      The milk. The cow.

      “I should tell you to leave. I mean, you’ve done what I’d asked you to do, so there’s no real reason for you to remain now that we have the letters back, and you apparently have bested terrible Ferdie without permanently dispatching him so that you have to flee the country, and I know we said we’d be betrothed, but there’s no longer any reason, is there, for us to— Are you going to stop me anytime soon, Lord Townsend? Because I think this has been the longest, best and worst day of my life, and...”

      His kiss stopped her just as she felt herself ready to burst into tears, and she held on for all she was worth as they rolled together on the bed, limbs tangling, hands searching, seeking, finding.

      She knew now. Knew what lay at the end of the long, sweet and winding path he was leading her down, and she was determined, this time, to be a more active participant in that journey.

      What had been new, even strange, that morning now seemed as natural as breathing. They were two, and the goal was to become one.

      Her rising passion didn’t frighten her now; she welcomed it.

      She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt with sure, confident fingers, and gloried in the warm, hard strength she encountered beneath. She traced his rib cage, marveled at the scarred flesh that must have come from an old wound, longed to kiss it, remove any memories of the pain he must have suffered.

      When he lifted her night rail, her breath caught in her throat and she bent her knees, opening to him, longing for his touch, the hot moist center of her his for the taking.

      Please. Please.

      She sensed his urgency, and it mirrored her own.

      “Yes,” she breathed against his mouth, just as she had earlier. Yes, Coop, yes.

      When he sank into her there was no real pain, but only a moment of soreness, easy to ignore, for now she knew what possession felt like, and welcomed the feeling of being filled, consumed while consuming.

      “God, Dany,” he whispered, raising himself up on his hands, to look down into her eyes. “You don’t know...you can’t know how I’ve worried that you might have changed your...”

      She slid her hands behind his back and held him, attempted to comfort him, until slowly, he began to move inside her.

      “Please,” she said, “no more talk. I know there’s more for you. I don’t need you to be gentle tonight. I just need you.”

      He leaned down to kiss her, even as he moved his lower body against her, beginning slowly, building a rhythm she had no trouble matching, because they were one, they moved as one, reacted as one.

      She’d let him go. If she had to, she’d let him go. She wasn’t here, holding him, flying, soaring, floating with him, with any thoughts of forever.

      She wanted him, now. He wanted her, now.

      They’d been through so much in only a few short days. They needed each other; they’d given in to temptation.

      And she’d never regret a moment.

      Colors swirled inside Dany’s tightly shut eyes; her heart raced, pounded, her whole body tensed in anticipation as Coop took her beyond anything she could have dreamed existed, into a world that held only the two of them...and then beyond the realm of what seemed possible.

      His back was slick with sweat as he collapsed onto her, and she nuzzled into his neck, licking at his salty skin, holding him while he shuddered, then seemed to melt against her.

      After a few moments she would have given half her life to cling to forever, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so that she could snuggle against his shoulder while he dropped light kisses on her hair and they both recovered their breath.

      She didn’t know what to say. It seemed entirely the wrong time to tell him that he was free now, that she regretted nothing.

      It didn’t seem fair to question him, either, not when he was clearly as caught in the moment as she was, and have him say something he might spend the rest of his life regretting.

      There simply wasn’t anything either of them could say.

      Or so she thought.

      “Turnips?”

      Dany looked up at him, saw the smile on his face.

      “Pardon me?”

      “That’s all they could come up with? Turnips?”

      Dany smiled. It was all right. He was still Coop, and she was still Dany. And they both, thank God, could still see absurdity for what it was, even in the midst of all that had been so very complicated and frightening.

      “The Townsend turnip. The Hero Turnip.”

      “Never,” he said, pulling her close once more. “If I’m to discover some fine, hardy new turnip, it will be the Minerva.”

      “That seems only fair,” Dany told him. “Followed by the Vivien and the Clarice. You’re not leaving, are you?”

      “Not for a while, no. I don’t think I can move.”

      “Good. Well, then...good night,” she said, and then snuggled closer, suddenly able to find sleep. Tomorrow would just have to take care of itself.

       CHAPTER TWENTY

      COOP WAS GONE by the time one of the duchess’s maids crept into Dany’s chamber the following morning. She shifted and slithered her way to the opposite side of the bed, looked down at the carpet.

      Drat. The packet of Mari’s letters had departed with him.

      He didn’t trust me not to peek. How wise!

      And Ferdie was no longer a problem. Wait. Had he said that, or had she? It was difficult to remember, but she suddenly had the niggling feeling that she might have assumed Coop was no longer in danger from the man, and he’d let her think that because, well, they did have other things pressing on their minds, hadn’t they...like making love.

      She quickly rolled over onto her back, rubbing at her sleep-sandy eyes before squinting across the room to look at the mantel clock.

      “Ten thirty! Who let me sleep until ten thirty!” She hopped out of the bed so quickly she nearly knocked the silver tray bearing scones and a pot of hot chocolate from the maid’s hands. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Quickly, I need a basin of warm water and the clothing I brought with me yesterday. I have to return to Portman Square at once.”

      “Yes, miss. Lord Townsend said you are to be ready, waiting and, um, tapping your foot in impatience for him to arrive at eleven o’clock. But his mother said you probably needed your sleep because—I don’t rightly know why, miss, but she winked at me. Scary, that wink, and if you don’t mind me saying so, her smile beats the wink all to flinders.”

      “Oh, Lord...”

      Dany was downstairs and, yes, tapping her foot, when the hall clock struck the hour of eleven.

      Thank her lucky stars for her short