Taken by Moonlight Read online

  But affairs of the heart were dangerous. Take Lord Carew, for example. Just thinking of him brought a renewed heat to her cheeks. The memory of his pleasing scent flooded her senses as if he stood right beside her. She barely knew him, and he already had too much power over her emotions.

  A familiar warmth brushed her arm even now as she thought of him. Instinctually, she recognized it. Lord Carew was nearby.

  Not just nearby. She opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with the one man she suspected she’d do well to avoid, the one man she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.

  Oh, dear! She should have never let Lord Duncan leave her alone in the moonlight. What should she say? How should she act? Her blood pounded through her veins so forcefully, she was certain Carew could hear it. Lia drew in a slow breath in an effort to calm her suddenly racing heart.

  “Lady Amelia,” Lord Carew said, his voice a velvety smooth caress. “Your aunt mentioned I would find you here. She is watching us, you see, from the doorway. Would you care to dance?”

  “Tsk, tsk, Lord Carew,” she said with fallacious disinterest. “If I were to dance two sets with you in one night, it would be assumed by all and sundry I have developed a fondness for you.”

  The corners of his lips pulled up a fraction of an inch, softening his expression just a touch. “And you haven’t?”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “Oh, but I imagine you want to.” He sounded so very confident.

  Could he really read her so easily? Of course, he couldn’t. All the ladies at the ball had been fawning over him. Why shouldn’t he believe she would want him as well?

  “You are too sure of yourself,” she scolded.

  “And you are unhappy in your life.”

  How could he—? No one had ever guessed the truth she’d worked so hard to keep hidden in her heart. Only Lord Duncan knew of the restlessness that lurked deep inside her, and only because she’d taken him into her confidence.

  “This place isn’t for you,” Carew said. “You are happier in the country, away from the glitter and noise of the city, is that not true?”

  It was. But she didn’t dare admit it. Especially not to a stranger.

  “You flatter yourself and overstep your bounds. You don’t know me.” She started to move back toward the ballroom.

  He caught her arm. His heat easily penetrated her gown’s fabric and spread through her body. “I know more about you than I daresay you know about yourself.” He smiled then, a disarming and altogether depreciating grin. “And yet, I don’t wish to spar with you.” His gaze narrowed as he considered her more carefully. “I wonder… What can I do to win a smile from those pretty lips?”

  He released her arm and tapped his temple as if trying to puzzle out a tough riddle.

  She tamped down an urge to rub away the sudden shock of cold resulting from the absence of his heated touch. She didn’t want him, or any man, touching her.

  “I don’t—” she started to protest.

  “I believe you wish to prove to me...and yourself...that I am nothing to you. Is that not correct?”

  Yes, it was true. She didn’t want to be attracted to any man, especially not this man who could so easily muddle her mind when she most needed her wits. And she certainly didn’t approve of the warmth spreading through her belly just because he was looking at her, and only her. But oh, she dearly wanted him to stay on the portico with her and simply soak in the cool night air while bathing in the healing glow of the moonlight...with him.

  Which was ridiculous. She certainly did not approve of the mysterious Lord Carew or of her own unhealthy fascination with him. Let Carew attract some other unwise maiden like a moth to a flame. Love only brought heartache for the woman because men, blast their handsome eyes, only ever desired power and money—two things that held very little value in Lia’s estimation.

  Oh, botheration! Perhaps Lord Duncan was right. Perhaps she did make herself miserable by thinking too much. How wonderful it would be to lean in just a little closer, to let his lips brush against hers, to know what it would be like to mindlessly give oneself to another. What would it be like? How freeing…?

  “What? No protests? Splendid, my lady. Let the game begin. Come. Prove you have no feelings for me. Prove to me you are more clever and more heartless than I.”

  He took her hand and led her not toward the glittering ballroom but down the stone steps and deep into the cool shadows of the garden.

  How dare he? He was arrogant and too much in command of himself and everyone around him. She wasn’t his to order about. She had a mind to—

  He picked up speed as he led her in a merry chase. They dashed around a potted topiary. The stone pavers sped by under their feet. It felt wonderful to forget herself and simply run under the bright moon like a hoyden. Lia laughed despite herself.

  He stopped in the middle of the path and turned her toward him, his hands on her shoulders. He took a moment to catch his breath. Lia felt a more than a little breathless herself. Her heart pounded with life in her chest, and all because she took this reckless sprint away from the crush in the ballroom.

  “We don’t have much time,” Carew warned. They stood in the deepest of the shadows that lurked in the farthest reach of the garden, hidden behind a line of thick, prickly hedges that muted tinkling laughter and lively music pouring out of the house.

  “Much time for what?” She glanced around. “We really shouldn’t be so far away from the house. My aunt will worry.”

  She tried to pull away, but his grip on her shoulders tightened.

  “Shh, they’ll be upon us in a moment.”

  Before she could demand who in blazes was coming, he framed her face with his warm, gloved hands. He moved closer, so close she saw the silvery moon reflected in his inky black eyes. “Lord help me,” he whispered, “you are so beautiful it causes me pain.”

  And then he kissed her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lord Carew’s lips, warm and powerful, moved against hers, caressing, guiding. The kiss was everything Lia had imagined it would be and so much more. He cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. If anything, the touch of his lips reached all the way through to her heart. Her head tingled with pleasure.

  When he nudged her legs apart, she complied even as he pressed her backside up against a moss-covered garden wall. He closed the distance between them until the entire length of his body conformed to hers. Through the layers upon layers of their clothing, she could feel the heat and hardness of him.

  “Open your mouth, cub.” She parted her lips slightly, allowing his tongue entrance. His spicy flavor, one Lia had never tasted but instantly craved, burned on her tongue.

  When he stepped back from her, she weaved on legs that had turned to water. “Oh my,” she gasped as she struggled to catch her breath. She’d been kissed before but never so skillfully, never so thoroughly.

  His was a kiss that had awakened her senses. Unlike any she’d ever experienced, this one felt like a prelude for something more. Something she’d heard the maids whisper about, but had never quite understood. Something she now wanted more fiercely than anything she’d ever wanted in her life, which was shocking enough.

  Propriety demanded she should slap him for overstepping his bounds. But his strong, warm hands caressed her cheeks, her neck, and then closed around her arms.

  La, who was she kidding? She wouldn’t have slapped him even if she could.

  No! She should tell him—

  For the first time in her life, she stopped herself mid-thought. Instead of protesting, she followed his retreat and pressed her eager body to his. His hard bands of muscle felt like stone.

  His strength should have worried her. After all, he had led her away from the house like a wolf would separate a lamb from the flock. She should be trembling. She was trembling, but not from fear. She felt safe in his embrace. This was where she belonged.

  If he hadn’t been holding her arms so tightly against
her sides, she would have twined her fingers behind his neck and…

  Just a parting taste, she told herself. She might never get the chance again. He’d stepped too far over the line by leading her away from the ball and her aunt’s watchful eye. He’d never be allowed this close to her again. And if that were the case, what would be the harm?

  She rose up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

  He jerked back with surprise. But a heartbeat later, his lips were devouring hers a second time. With the same commanding self-assurance that had at first piqued her ire, he returned her kiss. She was beginning to enjoy his habit of taking charge.

  She felt him not only on her lips. His kisses were sinfully intimate, spiraling through her body, reaching all the way down to her curling toes. A heat gathered between her legs and lapped at her belly. He fed erotic flames sparking deep inside her, flames only his touch could extinguish.

  As if sensing her growing need, he skimmed his gloved fingers down her arms and encircled her waist. He caressed her through the thin fabric of her gown, discovering places that made her squirm with delight. He then cupped her breast. His possessive heat branded her even through the layers of her muslin and cotton. He gently squeezed, awakening a need deep in her womb.

  She arched her back toward him, savoring the warm shivers his touch created. Sensations built everywhere at once. Desperate to find a release from his exquisite torture, she shifted her hips against his hardness.

  “Amelia… Amelia, my lovely cub, you strain my control,” he groaned into her mouth. He sounded pained. His roving hand moved lower, closer to the heat building between her legs. Inch by delicious inch he eased her skirt up, his hand on her bare thigh, moving higher, higher. Lia’s breaths came in short pants now. Her eyes rolled closed as she lost herself in his embrace.

  But he pulled away before he found the center of her wanton heat. Like a promise unfulfilled, he left her wanting him. She cried out her frustration and bit his bottom lip.

  She was stepping over a line every lady knew to avoid. But this was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be touched. By him. And only him. And heavens, with a low growl in his throat he started touching her again, caressing her thighs, caressing her breasts. He then cursed and shed his gloves before working the bodice of her gown open. He slipped its fabric from her shoulders and smiled as the light blue muslin dropped to around her waist. Making silent promises with his kisses, he eased a breast from the confines of her corset and the cotton chemise underneath. With deft fingers, he pinched and rolled her nipple until it tightened into a taut bud of pleasure.

  He then took her breast into his hot mouth. His lips closed tightly around her nipple. In that moment she became a part of him and he, a part of her. As he suckled her, frustrated tears filled her eyes. She pressed her hips more tightly to his body.

  She wanted…

  She wanted…

  More.

  Much more.

  This time when he pulled away, her bruised and swollen lips and breasts—her entire body—throbbed with an indefinable need that begged to be answered. She clung to him, not willing to let him go. She wanted his kisses and whatever else he could give her.

  She wanted him.

  Shocking, she knew, but everything about being with him felt so right, so natural. She wanted him to take her body to do with what he would.

  He drew in a ragged breath and swore fluidly under his breath in a language she didn’t recognize, but the meaning was clear. His eyes were wide, dazed. He swore again. He gave his head a shake and peeled her clinging hands off his lapels. When she tried to pull him back to her, he lifted his palm in warning and gave her a fierce look.

  “No,” he said, still frowning. He backed further away from her. “I have gone too far already. This wasn’t supposed to— I wasn’t suppose to— I— I am sorry.”

  “Lia! What are you doing?” Aunt Lettie rushed toward her errant charge, her purple turban in danger of wobbling right off her head. Lia clutched her loose bodice to her chest. With her dress gaping and her hair in disarray, she had no hope of pretending what had just happened didn’t happen. It was evidence enough to ruin her reputation. A disaster of epic proportions. Her very proper parents were going to be devastated. They had given her everything, and this was how she thanked them?

  She should have never run off into the garden with a man she barely knew. She should have never gotten caught up in his game or agreed to such shameful behavior. Propriety, after all, was the foundation of civilization. It was a lesson every young Regency miss knew well.

  “And you!” Aunt Lettie took one look at Lord Carew and raised her hand. “Only the worst sort of cad takes advantage of innocent maidens.”

  Lord Carew could have easily protected himself from the coming blow, but instead he stood his ground. The older matron’s hand slammed against his jaw with enough force he staggered back several feet.

  “This isn’t the end of this, Lord Carew,” Lettie warned, her voice shaking.

  “No, it’s just the beginning,” he agreed. He sounded miserable about it. And then he did something that truly confounded Lia. He turned his back to the both of them. “Put yourself back together.” His voice was hard, unfeeling, and so very different than it had been a moment before.

  “But-but…” Lia sputtered. This had been the most momentous event in her short life. How could it not have been the same for him?

  “Do as I say. Put yourself back together.” If anything, he sounded even more distant. Where was the charming rogue who’d led her down this gilded road to ruin? Oh, she hadn’t been very clever tonight. No, not clever at all. She’d fallen under his spell as easily as an empty-headed calf. “And be quick about it.”

  Her hands shaking, Lia fumbled with the ribbons and buttons. Aunt Lettie silently helped, for Lia wouldn’t have been able to manage on her own.

  “This is for the best, my dear,” Lettie whispered gently, which only caused Lia to regret her folly so much more. Her aunt wiped a tear from Lia’s cheek. It was too late for recriminations. The damage that had already been done could never be undone.

  “You won’t have her money,” Lettie directed the words toward Carew’s still turned back. She then softened her voice again. “Come, my dear Lia. It is late enough. We don’t need to return to the ballroom. We shall take the back gate out to the alley and clear our heads with the fresh air as we march home. As you know, my town house is less than a block away. You shall stay with me tonight.”

  Lettie paused. Her gaze returned to Carew, who had turned back around to face them. Lettie’s lips tightened. “You will be hearing from Lia’s father on the morrow. Good night.”

  “But Aunt, Papa won’t be home until…” Lia’s words trailed off as an eerie fog rolled over the back garden fence, down the stone path, covering them all in a thick yellow haze.

  A half-dozen dark shadows emerged from the bleakest part of the gloom. “Ah, is it not the beautiful Lady Amelia Routledge?” A finely dressed, but frighteningly bulky gentleman blocked their escape at the garden gate. His accent was thick, Russian, perhaps. A roughly dressed gang gathered around him. “At last we meet.”

  Lia’s heart pounded in her throat. Though the man was dressed like a gentleman, a vicious gleam glittered in his eyes, and a wicked slant pulled at his sideways smile.

  “Stay away from us,” she warned as she backed away, pulling Aunt Lettie along with her.

  “Ah, ah,” he warned. He surged forward and grabbed Lia by the arm. With one sharp tug, he pulled her snug against his chest. “You are not to go anywhere without me.”

  “Release her!” Aunt Lettie bellowed. Using her silver-handled cane like a club, she struck a raggedly dressed man who dashed at her. Blood spurted from the man’s nose. She hit a second, much larger, man on the head. He crumbled to the stone pavers.

  She appeared ready to take on the entire legion of villains. Two of the gang’s men backed up, circling with the measured step of a hound approaching
an angry badger. Lettie swung her cane again. It missed its mark and clanged on a stone paver.

  Not willing to give up so easily, Lettie let out a most unladylike curse and turned her ire on the man holding Lia. She raised her cane high in the air. “Release my niece, or I shall bash your pudgy head into your pudgy neck.”

  The man wasn’t as pudgy as he was thick. Muscular. Handsome, but unlike Carew’s disarming good looks, this man’s striking appearance did nothing to assuage Lia’s fear of him. His arms, massive cords of muscles, squeezed Lia’s ribs so tightly they felt as if they might snap. But she didn’t see a need to point this out to Lettie. Her aunt wouldn’t stop until they were both safe…or both dead.

  Since lending her aunt a helping hand appeared to be their only hope, Lia struggled against her captor while furiously trying to come up with a better plan of escape. She twisted and kicked at his legs, but the man’s grip only tightened.

  “Yes.” His quickening breath brushed her ear. A hard bulge in his pants pressed against her backside. “Fight us.”

  His excitement only made her more frantic to get away from him.

  “Lord Carew!” she called. Where had that blackguard gone? Hadn’t he seen the men come through the garden gates? Surely he hadn’t fled into the dark leaving Lia and her aunt to face this horrible fate alone. She couldn’t imagine him playing the part of a coward. Not the self-assured always-in-command Lord Carew. So where was he?

  “I have no money, you bounder,” Aunt Lettie shouted as more men charged her like wild dogs. “Get away from me.” She swung her cane wildly.

  A thin woman with stringy brown hair grabbed hold of Lettie’s gown from behind, ripping it as she pushed Lettie into a prickly rose bush. The purple turban went flying.