Chapter Twelve

May 28, 1817

Somewhere in Mayfair

Cora glanced about the drawing room with interest, for the usual furniture had been cleared away. In its place were delicate chairs with gilt-painted legs and light blue, velvet cushions arranged into four tidy rows of ten chairs each. At the front of the room, a pianoforte as well as a harp had been set up where musicians and singers would perform.

It had been Mrs. Bromington's desire to attend the musicale evening, and though Cora never voiced opposition, she did secretly wonder why. People milled about the room, talking quietly while some had already found seats.

"The recital will begin soon. We should find somewhere to sit."

The widow huffed. "What do you think I'm doing, girl?" She nudged two men out of her way by knocking her cane against their backsides before finally settling on a chair in the front row. "Sit." Gesturing with her cane, she indicated the chair next to hers. "This will allow us the best view and to hear the music without distortion."

"I had no idea you enjoyed such things."

"I am a regular patron to various causes like this about Town."

"Ah." Apparently, despite all the horrors that Mrs. Bromington was, she did support musicians. "What a lovely thing to discover."

"Yes, well, I feel that I should." A frown pulled the corners of her lips downward. "One of my children—a son—who perished before adulthood, was a gifted pianist. My husband and I thought that talent should be nurtured, so we hired tutors, but sadly, the boy contracted a horrid bout of pneumonia at the age of twelve. It continued to worsen despite all measures to thwart it, and eventually, he succumbed to the sickness."

"I am so sorry to hear it." Involuntarily, Cora reached out and put her hand over the widow's. "Then you support musicians in his honor?"

"Perhaps." Emotion shadowed her eyes before she hid it under her usual mask of disgruntlement. She moved her hand from Cora's. "Music is something I enjoy. Why shouldn't I become a patron to some of these young people?"

Despite her wish to remain decorous, Cora snorted. "Because you treat young people horribly. Well, you treat all people horribly, but I'm glad to know there is still a heart beating beneath all those layers of thorns and bitterness." It might have been over the line, but she couldn't help herself.

Remarkably, Mrs. Bromington chuckled—a wheezing sort of rusty sound as if she were unaccustomed to laughing—yet she didn't answer.

The first half of the musicale evening was quite mediocre with only a couple of excellent performers. Everyone else either had a bad case of nerves, or they hadn't cared to practice their craft all that much.

"I would enjoy a glass of punch, girl. Go fetch it for me. My old knees are aching, so I don't wish to get up."

"Very well." It would be lovely to have a few minutes away from her charge's company, regardless.

Of course, there was a bit of a queue at the refreshment table, which meant she had to wait. Finally, with a glass of punch in hand, Cora came back down the corridor toward the drawing room, and that was when the captain stepped into her path.

She gasped, and the hand holding the glass shook, the light pink liquid sloshing close to the rim. "Peregrine." Faint terror twisted down her spine, for if Mrs. Bromington caught sight of her lingering in his company, she wouldn't be best pleased, yet he was so handsome in his evening attire that she couldn't help but rove her hungry gaze over his person. "What are you doing here?"

A faint grin curved his sensuous lips. "I wished to speak to you, since I have been thwarted from doing just that with every call I make."

Truly, he was trying. She nodded while thoughts of stealing a kiss danced through her mind. "I'm afraid I can't spare the time to talk now. Mrs. Bromington is waiting for her punch."

"I thought as much." He glanced about then lowered his voice. "Meet me in the library ten minutes from now. I can't imagine you are enthralled about this evening's entertainment."

Excitement circled through her belly where it crashed into knots of worry. "But Mrs. Bromington—"

He shrugged. "Make an excuse." His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she trembled at the wicked promise in his eyes. "Tell her your stomach is upset. The ladies' retiring room is across the hall from the library on the first floor."

"Oh, I couldn't…" She shouldn't for she wasn't skilled in dissembling, but she wanted to see him. Finally, she nodded. "All right. Ten minutes." When she glanced about the immediate surroundings, she frowned when Miss Beaufort waved at her—or rather Peregrine—with a wide smile. "You should go since you are about to be set upon by quite a determined young woman." With her confidence slightly dented and annoyance firmly in her chest, Cora left him to return to the drawing room and Mrs. Bromington's side.

"You were gone far too long for such an errand," the older lady groused as she accepted the crystal glass from Cora's hand.

She bit back the less than ladylike reply she wished to utter aloud. Instead, she said, "There was a crush. I needed to wait my turn."

"Bah. Crowds. London is certainly being overrun these days. A pity my husband didn't buy property in the country. Surrey is lovely this time of year."

Cora had no response to that.

In short order, the second half of the musicale evening began with two sisters, one on the piano and one singing. They were quite lovely and received applause afterward, but the musician that followed was significantly less talented. Once, she glanced toward the rear of the room. Peregrine gave a slight nod with a raised eyebrow. Then he stood and exited the space.

Anticipation sent her heartbeat accelerating. While the third person—an older man this time—gained the performance area, Cora forced moisture into her suddenly tight throat. It was now or never. She put a hand to her belly and another to her mouth. Then she uttered what she hoped was a believable moan.

Mrs. Bromington huffed with apparent annoyance. "Are you ill, girl?"

"Uh…" If you wish to see Peregrine, make this lie convincing! Listening to the voice in her head, she nodded. "Yes. My stomach is upset. The monthly plague no doubt." Which, truly, such an event wasn't scheduled to come upon her for another couple of weeks. Since that wasn't a subject fit for any sort of company perhaps outside of with one's maid, the widow ordered her from the room to compose herself.

"I will come to the retiring room and find you after the evening has finished, once I visit with a few people."

"All right." On a rush of excitement mixed with relief, Cora fled the room with as much decorum as she could muster. She went downstairs still feigning sickness in the event someone watched her and would mention to her charge about seeing her, but there were hardly any guests milling about. Most were in the drawing room or going into the billiards room next to the library.

As soon as she went into the library, the door closed behind her, and Peregrine immediately tugged her into his arms. Shadows filled the room. Only two candles burned in silver holders on the mantel.

"Finally, we're alone!" The heat of his whisper brushed along her cheek just before he grazed his lips beneath her jaw.

As much as she wanted to give herself over to the feeling of familiarity of being in his arms, she gave him a shove until he released her. "Perhaps you should find Miss Beaufort. Clearly, she's desperate for your company." Why the devil did the young woman keep seeking him out?

"That would be quite impossible." As he prowled toward her, she retreated.

"Why?" There was an intense look in his eyes that awoke a flock of butterflies in her lower belly. Step by step, he matched hers, stalked her like a predatory jungle cat.

"I am courting you." In no time, he closed the distance between them, stalled her between a shelf and his body, planted a palm on the book spines near her head. "And right now, I'm of a mind to kiss you senseless due to Mrs. Bromington keeping you from me."

"Ah." Feeling much like teasing him, Cora ducked beneath his arm. She tried to flee, but he ended up trapping her between the hard wall of his chest and a triangular-shaped wooden ladder on wheels that tilted slightly toward the shelf. "This is hardly a private setting," she whispered and laid a hand on his chest.

"It is private enough, and quite frankly, I have thought about little else except being with you since that time in my shop." Before she could respond, Peregrine leaned into her, cupped her cheek, and then claimed her lips in a gentle yet intense kiss she wasn't strong enough to resist.

The heat of him, the fresh clean scent of him, the fleeting touch of his fingers sans gloves all worked at her undoing. Cora stared up at him as her heartbeat hummed. "What have you done to me? You are like a fever in the blood that won't stop burning until I'm reduced to dust." Then she gasped and her gaze darted to the mangled side of his face. "Oh, dear. That was a poor choice of words."

"I believe the description was apt. I take no offense, but I am grateful you have treated me no differently than any other man despite my looks." He slid his hand from her cheek and buried his fingers into her hair, kissed her again with more authority, and further words flew right out of her head.

And she was in danger of being lost.

Trapped between his arms and the ladder, she didn't want to move. "This is far too scandalous, Perry. We are tempting fate."

"No, we are chasing our own interests and dreams while perhaps escaping the prisons we keep ourselves in."

At least she would offer up a protest, feeble as it was, for each time his lips and fingers glanced over her skin, more of her willpower dissolved into dust. "We could be found out."

"We could, indeed, and if you decide we shouldn't indulge, by all means I will let you return to your dragon's side." Slowly, he drew up her satin skirting while nuzzling into the crook of her shoulder. "God, I adore it when you wear this yellow gown."

"Are you certain you haven't mistaken me tonight?" Not able to help teasing him, she grinned before an unexpected whimper left her throat the second his fingers feathered over her outer thigh.

"Never again, for I was naught but a nodcock that last time." Then he guided his lips down the column of her throat and followed the lace around her bodice. "Will you bid me nay, sweeting?"

The use of the endearment further had a cloud of passion scudding through her brain. "No, for I have hoped for more of your kisses since that day as well."

"Good." As he plied her with gentle kisses, he moved his fingers along the inside of her thigh. Shivers trailed in his wake, and when he did the same to the other thigh, a shuddering sigh escaped her, and she opened her legs slightly while balancing with her arse precariously perched on one of the wooden steps.

"Surely you don't intend to… play, like that, now…" It was pure folly. What if someone accidentally came upon them? But, dear heavens, she desperately wanted his touch!

"I do. The musicale will go on for at least thirty more minutes. Plenty of time to tease, don't you think?" Then he slipped his fingers between her thighs, dancing, exploring, caressing that sensitive flesh, back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm, that made her nearly mad from needing him. "It seems you're all too ready. We must do something about that, hmm?" Before she could utter a response, he'd coaxed her swelling nubbin out of hiding, and then strummed those talented fingers over it.

"Oh!" Shivers of heated need fell over her, fracturing throughout her body and into every nerve ending. "You don't play fair."

"How so?" He followed the inquiry with feather weighted kisses to her lips, beneath her jaw, the crook of her shoulder, and all the while, he worked that tiny bundle of nerves, bringing her body into a frenzy of desire and plain lust.

"You could have merely kissed me, and I would have been ecstatic with that," she managed to gasp out. When she couldn't hold back a moan, he grinned, his lips sliding along the side of her neck.

"Perhaps, but you are a vixen, I think, and you should be shown how delicious you truly are." He licked the upper slopes of her breasts while continuing to caress her nubbin. "Especially since you are being kept from me by dear, selfish Mrs. Bromington."

"Ha! No one has ever likened me to such before," she managed to gasp out and curled her fingers around the side of the ladder merely to keep herself upright. The shivering tingles circling through her lower belly would make her dissolve into a boneless heap soon.

"I'll never stop berating myself for not choosing you that long ago morning."

Her heart squeezed. "The navy needed you more."

"Hardly. I was just one of many, I now know." When she thought she'd break from the exquisite torment, Peregrine withdrew his hand, and she whimpered a protest. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then what…?" As she drew the next shuddering breath, he quickly eased down her bodice and encouraged her breasts from the nest of the remainder of her clothing. "Surely you've gone mad." A feeling of longing spiraled through her insides, for he hadn't sent her flying. No longer did she worry over the thought of being found.

Drat him.

"Not mad, at least not yet. Perhaps drunk on you." Peering into her eyes, he brushed the knuckles of one hand over a nipple until it tightened and pebbled. "Do I have your permission to do unspeakable things to you?"

"Will I enjoy it?"

"That is the hope, but only if you're quiet."

"Ah." Not knowing what he had in mind, she met his gaze, caught the knowing light in those hazel depths, and heat stung her cheeks. What he must think of her! Surely, she must be depraved if she wanted his continued attention. "I'm willing." Yet worry couldn't be entirely forgotten. This was improper and outrageously scandalous. His name and reputation wouldn't be ruined if they were discovered in highly compromising positions. Beyond that, she could fall pregnant, and then what would become of her or her family's name?

She'd have to run home in humiliation and scandal a second time.

"Stop thinking, Cora. I won't hurt you and neither will I leave." Once more he drew up her skirting and bunched it at her waist. As he dropped to his knees, he grinned up at her. "It is my hope you'll understand how much I care after this." Then he gripped her inner thighs and splayed her open. "So beautiful."

Why did he think so? Perhaps later she would ask. Anticipation battled with anxiety in her belly, for she didn't quite understand what he was about. She buried the fingers of one hand into his hair, upsetting his valet's carefully arranged style. "I may have changed my mind and—" A squeak cut off her words as he touched his mouth to her throbbing button.

He chuckled. The vibrations sent her into another level of delightful wonder. "Relax and concentrate on what I'm doing to you."

"Merciful heavens." From the moment he employed his lips and hot tongue to her most sensitive, private parts, Cora slowly lost the last vestiges of her sanity. "You…" She couldn't catch her breath, for with each nibble, every suckle, all the swipes and strokes of his tongue as he used the flat part as well as the tip, she was hurled higher and higher into pleasure where she'd ever gone before. This was all new to her, for she'd never been told a man could do such to a woman. How had he known? Did he think her woefully inexperienced?

Then it didn't matter, for the wild sensations dancing through her body left her heated and shaking with need.

"Perry… Oh, oh, oh!" Tears fell to her cheeks for the feelings were too big, too much, too overwhelming. Her breath came in short pants. Not once did Peregrine shy away from his work. He was a man bent on tossing her over the edge, and she hovered there, trapped, waiting with held breath and a hammering heart for him to release her into that dark void.

But he didn't. That blessed surcease didn't come.

At least not immediately.

The wicked man kept her poised on the razor's edge, pinning her there again and again with every penetrating stroke of his tongue, each calculated swipe, every new torment of suction on that swollen button until she openly cried out for him to stop but alternately plead for him to continue. She curled her hand into his hair to shove him away and cease the exquisite torment but also to hold him to her tighter exactly where she needed him.

This is like falling and flying combined.

Fearing she'd faint from the need tearing her apart, Cora squirmed, but he gripped her thighs that much tighter to keep her in place on the ladder. Her back arched, which put her deeper into his care, and still she made whimpering noises, because that was all she was capable of now. Laughter from the corridor beyond the library penetrated into her consciousness. The imminent threat of discovery merely enhanced the act.

"I can't quite grasp it, can't manage the fall…" The rushed whisper was filled with blatant pleading, but she didn't care. And oh, the sensations he'd already invoked inside her were glorious!

"It matters not. I only wanted to give you comfort, to show you I will always care. There will be more times to send you flying."

Despite the fact her body shook, the overwhelming feeling moving through her was peace and remarkably safety. Her thighs trembled in time to her racing pulse. "I wanted so much from you this night, but what you have given me is quite simply… lovely." She collapsed into the rungs of the ladder, uncaring that the hard wood dug into her skin or that she most likely resembled a broken marionette puppet. Even without that release, he'd managed to wring everything from her.

"I look forward to being with you thusly, to completing your fall." He stood, then, and leaning over her, brushed his lips over hers.

"So do I." Heat went through her cheeks, for his mouth had just been on the center of her being. "Will you, ah… Will you do that to me again?"

"Would you like me to?" Wicked promise gleamed in his eyes as he gave one of her nipples a light twist.

Pleasure streaked through her body, and she gasped. "I would very much enjoy that." When she didn't hear that laughter in the corridor again and, wanting him to feel at sixes and sevens as she did, Cora tumbled from the ladder to fall to her knees before him. "My turn, Captain."

"What?" Confusion lined his expression as he peered down at her. "Surely you don't mean what I think you are inferring to."

"Mmm, that largely depends on what happens next." Feeling uncommonly brave after he'd done such scandalous things to her, Cora cupped a hand about his equipage and massaged his length through the fabric of his evening breeches.

"Go gently." A hiss eased from his throat, but he laid a palm against the side of her head. "I don't wish to embarrass myself."

"If you fear me thinking differently about you, I won't." The more she caressed that part of him, the harder and longer it grew, and she knew a blatant need to see that erect manhood. Though she had no idea what she was doing, giving him pleasure became her new motivation. "To me, you have never been more handsome. Your scars only enhance that." Never had she been more honest.

His fingers in her hair tightened slightly in an effort to tilt back her head. "Do you truly mean that?" The wonder, the astonishment, in his voice made her eyes prickle with tears.

"I do, and I think I appreciate you more now." Suddenly shy, she dropped her gaze to his frontfalls as she quickly manipulated them with her trembling fingers. When his engorged length sprang free, she sucked in a quick breath. "Magnificent." She hadn't seen this part of him the other night at his shop when he'd claimed her on his desk. "To think you walk about all day with this… magical flesh, and then when you kiss me, it becomes as hard as iron."

Peregrine softly chuckled. "Not quite, but I thank you for the likeness." He laid a hand over hers. "Like this." Then he demonstrated, guided her hand, and taught her how to move her curled fingers along his shaft, how to caress him in a manner that would give him pleasure.

"Ah, I see." After batting away his hand, she scuttled even closer to him and then proceeded to work him over, hoping that her manipulation would bring him as much pleasure as he'd given to her. When she finally discovered how to twist her hand and massage his stones with the other, Cora glanced up at him. The ecstasy on his face made his visage that of an angel, and for the space of a heartbeat, she was transfixed.

Then she came closer, licked the head of his shaft. An unfamiliar earthiness came away on her palate, but it wasn't unpleasing, so she licked him again, and this time she swirled the tip of her tongue around and under the head, just below the crinkled skin.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, and he tightened his hand in her hair. "You are both my salvation and my destruction, I fear."

A sense of power enveloped her, and for the first time in her life, Cora felt as if someone appreciated her, not for what she could do for them, but for who she was—herself.

With a smokey bit of a chuckle, she licked his tip again, dared to wrap her lips around that velvety head, but then the sound of voices echoed just outside the library door. Peregrine's body stiffened. She slipped from his shaft and met his gaze. "Should I continue?"

"As much as I'd like for that to happen, we are in a more perilous position than we were at the first."

"True." Cold disappointment went through her belly. "Perhaps we can revisit this another time." A second bout of laughter prompted her to scramble to her feet. "I should go across the hall in case Mrs. Bromington comes looking for me." She tucked her breasts back into her bodice and arranged her clothing until the lines of the gown fell as they were supposed to.

"That might be best." With a faint frown, the captain righted his own clothing. "Oh, but there is this." After he delved his fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat, he removed a pink rose bud. "It's from the bouquet waiting for you at the widow's house. I had it delivered while you were out since I wasn't allowed to give it to you in person." When he tucked the bud behind her ear, he caressed the side of her face. "A lady should always have flowers."

"What a wonderful surprise." With a quick glance to the door, Cora closed the distance between them, lifted onto her toes, and then bussed his cheek. "I can't wait to see them. I'm so glad you remembered I adore flowers, roses especially. I must go." Then she scurried over the floor. "Thank you for tonight," she said in a lowered voice as she opened the panel enough to peer into the corridor. It was empty. Perhaps the men had moved into the billiards room next door. "Mrs. Bromington indicated an interest of walking in Hyde Park tomorrow near teatime, if you should wish to take in some exercise."

"I will," he said with a nod.

Seconds later, she slipped from the library and went across the hall into the ladies' retiring room, which was a parlor on other days. Since there was only one other woman there, who sat in a chair with her eyes closed, Cora walked as quietly as she could until she reached a rose brocade settee. Suddenly, the strength left her knees, and she hadn't the strength to sit properly, so she lounged with unladylike leisure against the decorative pillows to one side and let delicious lethargy moving through her blood to have at her.

"Good heavens, the man is potent," she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes. And it was becoming more difficult to resist him. Perhaps she wouldn't try any longer, for his unorthodox courtship was quite effective.

For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to dream. In that vision there was a pretty little boy with blond hair and the captain's hazel eyes, squealing as a paper boat sailed upon the serpentine while she and Perry looked on…