“Of course,” Elsie whispered sleepily, and he realised his fiancée was nodding off. Kit stayed still, their clothes half torn off them, tangled and a mess, letting her sleep, revelling in the feeling of holding her. When he lowered his own lids, letting rest wash through him, he could not remember a moment in his life when he’d been more at peace. If this was what his marriage was going to be like, he would be a happy man.
The next dayand a half was a whirlwind of packing and planning. Kit was perhaps disappointed he had so little time to see Elsie, or even his sister, but he was certain both would understand once the three of them had departed Tintagel. The important thing was to have everything settled with the manor and ease their leaving. It was very strange because despite numerous letters dispatched to Town, no response had come from London or his family’s lawyers. Itcould not be helped—Kit was done with having himself, Flora, and his beloved Elsie be tied to this place for a moment longer—it was time to go.
Without wishing to leave on a long journey with Flora in ignorance as to the engagement, on the morning of the departure, Kit slipped from his chamber early, and hurried along to his sister’s room. When he knocked and the door opened, it was to see Flora and the rescued dog, Lancelot, both wide-eyed as they watched him.
“Are you ready? All packed?” He had informed Flora the night before that they would be off at eleven in the morning, thinking it best to let her know but not wishing that she had too long to dwell on the matter.
His sister nodded, pushing the door wider as Kit slipped inside. He was excited. It was bubbling through him—emotion at leaving, excitement at seeing Town, love only just being admitted to himself for his affianced bride. Not that he would dream of showing that to his little sister.
“I have some news that I wish to share with you.”
“You don’t mean to leave me here, do you?”
“God no,” Kit said hastily. He reached forward and took Flora’s hand, giving it a squeeze, hoping it reassured her. It was his duty to provide for, to protect her, and all too frequently he had failed her. Going forward Kit’s intention was never to let that happen again. If he could help it, he did not want her distressed by anything, ever again. “We are departing this manor today. No, my news is unrelated. I mean. That is…” words seemed to stick in his throat as he tried his best to formulate the sentence. “It is hard to find the right way…”
“Has it something to do with Miss Keating?” A perceptive look overcame Flora’s little face, and Kit lowered his gaze. Sometimes he forgot how clever his sister was. Or perhaps neither Elsie nor he had been especially careful.
“Indeed,” he muttered. Had he been so obvious that everyonein the household had realised the depths of feelings? If so, perhaps he should feel shame, but none manifested in him.
“I am happy for you, that you should be wed…” Flora returned the touch of his fingers, a light smile gracing her mouth. “I think you will be well suited to one another.”
“I know it is a risk for us, given what our family…”
“What father always spoke of—honour, ghosts, a curse we could not shift, none of it was tangible. But you fought off Peterson and his threats. I think if we leave here, we will be free.”
The sense of her sentiments engulfed him, and Kit nodded. “I should have listened to you long ago.”
“I do not think I saw it clearly until—” she trailed off as she studied his face and expression. “We are both indebted to Miss Keating.”
“Just as well—” whatever he’d been about to say was lost when there was a flurry of footsteps outside. There was a knock on the door, but before either of them could speak, it swung open to reveal Miss Keating’s maid. The young woman was around Flora’s age, but she appeared to be in great distress. Her garb and hair were in disarray, having entirely lost her mob cap, and she had clearly run through the manor as if the very dogs of hell were on her trail.
“My—Your Grace—” She looked at Kit and then at Lady Flora, her face reddening as she staggered forward, her fingers reaching out towards him. Instinctively Kit put out a hand to steady her. She collapsed into his arms and gazed up into his face. “My lady—that is Miss Keating—she’s vanished.”
Kit started forward, his fears and furies pulsing beneath the surface as he grabbed the servant’s arms. “How do you know?”
“Brother.” Flora was holding on to his shirt, her face pleading, and he loosened his hold on the poor maid, who immediately started crying.
Through her sobs, the girl said, “If you see her room—I know she’s been taken.”
CHAPTER 21
Elsie was in her dream land, a curious place caught between waking and sleeping. But one she’d always loved ever since she was a tiny child: it was a place of safety, romance, and wish fulfilment. Part of her knew she needed to wake up—there was a feeling of disquiet that whispered at the back of her mind, telling, no, begging her to wake up.
But for now, with the promised reminder of Kit’s kiss on her bare skin, Elsie sank deeper into the half memory, half reality of the delicious sensations… His mouth was on her inner thigh tracing light kisses over and over again until she was squirming at the attention. To think that it was the same austere and brusque man she had met, the one who’d rescued from the moorland, was bending over her, resting himself between her legs, kissing and loving her in such a manner that it sent pinpricks of want, need, and affection through her, as well as a tightness behind her eyes, close to that of tears.
In this fantasy place, she could whisper, admit her feelings out loud. “I love you.” He had not wanted that when he’d proposed to her. In typical Kit fashion, he had been all practicalities and thediscussion of affection, or emotion had taken second place. Now in this world of Elsie’s, it did not need to. In fact, she could revel in it.
The memories flooded in, and the strength of his remembered grip on her returned. Kit’s fingers were keeping her in place, not allowing Elsie to move from her position at his mercy. She was his victim, a most willing one she thought, as dream Kit lifted his mouth from her thigh and shifted closer, nearer to her curls. His mouth dipped again, his nose pressing in, whispering half snatched words of praise that fired her blood and had her clenching her legs together.
“You know that just makes me want to explore further,” he had told her. She definitely remembered those words because they had made her blush. “To taste you, to feel your need and coat my tongue with it is the best aphoristic one could ever imagine.” Kit—from his physique to the way his mind worked, to his occasionally aloof but mainly domineering manner, and finally to his very words uttered in their deep cadence—had the power to make her grow wet, dizzy with need for him. For one terrifying moment, the idea that he would realise this almost pulled Elsie from her imagined world, but then the dream Kit lowered his head, his mouth delving in her curls, deeper until he found her most willing flesh, and she cried aloud for him.
On he went, relentless despite her demands that he cease because it was too much for her, too intense and all-consuming. She felt sure if he continued the play of his tongue, mouth, and fingers she would be lost to it, gone and never able to regain her sense of self. All of it, all of her would be spent on him—carried away by the sensations and feelings he stirred in her body, mind, and spirit.
When he finally did pause and shift himself away from her, Elsie found that tears had spilled unbidden down her cheeks. Now she wanted the feel of him buried deep inside her, but Kitwasn’t done playing with her. He seemed to merely be luxuriating in the temporary pause before he moved closer and eased a finger deep inside her. It seemed a form of claiming her, on just yet another level. The intrusion caused the most tantalising taste of her release to hover just out of reach, so a desperate Elsie lifted her hips, eager to feel him more deeply inside her. She felt rather than saw Kit’s grin, a most salacious and wicked smile, as he started to move over her body. All the while murmuring to her, about how glorious every inch of her tasted. Before alighting his tongue on her stomach, nibbling on the softness of it with his teeth, before he proceeded to caress and taste her breasts, promising that he had never seen such perfection and how he wished he could spill himself between their valley. Again, Elsie found herself promising to let him, offering him everything, even if it meant losing herself in exchange, so long as he never stopped.
When he finally kissed her mouth, Elsie could taste her desire, sweet and tart on his tongue, playing over lips, and that combined with the hardness of his body, the memory of his fingers penetrating her, sent a cascading wave of sensation through her, hard and fast, so that she had to hold on to him, begging him never to let go.
The sheer sharpness of her intense release jerked her eyes open, and Elsie started around herself. This was most definitely not her dreamworld. Nor was it the enclave Kit and she had made love in. Nor was it her bedchamber with all the familiar objects and creature comforts close at hand. That was where she’d fallen asleep after Kit had carried her back there and where they’d spent the night together. No, this place was nowhere she’d ever seen before.
