Page 31 of The Banished Bride
Heaving a snort of disgust, Aurora poked at the fires. Her overactive imagination was threatening to turn this whole evening into a chapter worthy of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pen. There was no need to act as flighty as one of those peagoose heroines. Nor was it sensible to make Alex Woodmore into some brooding, sensitive hero when he was merely a well-trained British officer intent on accomplishing a difficult mission.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to retreat to the other room to comb out her curls and don her nightrail.
It was eminently reasonable to be cool, calm and detached about the whole thing. She would simply crawl beneath the covers of her pallet and fall asleep. By morning, the matter would be settled and they could all get back to the normal course of their lives. Her head settled against the thin pillow, and at the thought of returning to her snug little cottage and Robbie’s comfortable companionship, a sigh stole forth from her lips. It was prompted by a sense of relief, she assured herself as her eyes squeezed shut, and not by any other sentiment.
No more than a quarter of an hour later, a sharp noise caused her head to shoot up. Was it the snap of a branch or the crack of a pistol? Muttering several choice words under her breath, she punched at the pillow and turned on her side. Wind rustled the leaves—or was it the sound of an approaching rider? This time, the unladylike oath was more than audible. Abandoning all pretense of sleep, she rose and wrapped one of the thin blankets around her shoulders, then returned to her pacing before the dying embers.
The faint stirrings of warmth did nothing to loosen the cold knot of worry that had formed in the pit of her stomach. What if he had taken another bullet and lay wounded in some ditch? Her fingers clenched at the rough wool. She must stop such worrying! Not only did it do no good, but she would likely be teased unmercifully if he returned to find her lapsing into a state of girlish vapors.
Or what if the blade of a knife had …
A rasping of metal causing her head to jerk around toward the door, but the cry of alarm gave way to one of welcome as the tall figure who slipped inside shook the drops of rain from his coat, the familiar set of shoulders unmarred by any trace of injury.
“Here now, since I’ve managed to avoid being shot or stabbed earlier tonight, I would prefer not be strangled at the last minute,” he said gently, though he made no move to unclasp her arms from around his neck.
Aurora buried her cheek against his damp shirt, but the tart rejoinder to his teasing dissolved into a burbled sob.
A light caress brushed over her loosened hair. “It’s all right, sweeting,” he whispered. “It’s over.”
Her eyes flew up. “You—Jack?—”
“Both of us are fine. And thanks to your help, the threat to our country is at an end as well.” He took both her hands in hisand led her to the table. “I shall tell you all, but first, perhaps you might fetch that flask from your reticule. I think we could both use a medicinal draught.” A glint of amusement cut through the fatigue in eyes. “That is, unless it really did break along with the bottle of vinaigrette. But I sincerely hope not.”
Aurora could not deny that the fiery brandy did indeed send a jolt of warmth through her insides, but it was not nearly as potent as the heat caused by the closeness of his person. She passed the flask back to him and watched as he raised it to his lips and took a long swallow before speaking again.
“It went very much as we had planned,” he began in a low voice. “Jack trailed the two of them from the small inn to the only cove where a small boat might put in with any safety. I was already well hidden among the rocks, and we took them by surprise, just as they were beginning the steep descent down to the water’s edge. Our friend from the inn tried to draw his weapon, but Jack dropped him with a single shot.” He paused and took another draught. “The lady, on seeing she was trapped, attempted no such resistance. She merely gave me a strange sort of smile—almost a salute—and simply stepped over the edge.”
His fingers sought out a sheaf of papers from inside his shirt. They were torn in several places and bore faint but unmistakable streaks of blood across the crumpled foolscap. “A pity such courage and cunning could not have been put to better use,” he said with a trace of weary sadness in his voice. “Her accomplice was only winged. Jack is seeing to the man’s wounds, and to having the local magistrate take care of the other body without raising any awkward questions. He will spend the night in the village to make sure the incident is hushed up, then in the morning he’ll head off to London with his prisoner. Perhaps with thorough questioning we’ll find some sort of answer for all the blood that has been shed. But I doubt it.” For a moment his eyespressed closed and Aurora was shocked by the spasm of pain that tugged at his features.
“You have not become used to the sight of death?” she whispered.
“No. And I should hope that I never shall.” His gaze strayed to the few flames that still licked up from the glowing coals. “Death is a terrible waste. It serves to remind me that life is infinitely precious, though I have been wont to fritter it away as casually as a drunken gambler tosses his blunt down on the table of chance.”
The note of regret in his voice caused Aurora to reach out and catch up his hand. “You, of all people, have too much integrity to have ever allowed your dreams to be bought or sold in such a frivolous manner. Of that I am sure.”
“Are you?” A muscle twitched at his jaw. “Soldiers are a mercenary lot,” he replied with some bitterness, seeking to free his fingers from her grasp. “Aurora Sprague, you don’t know the first thing about me.”
The blanket had slipped from her shoulders as he sought to pull away. Ignoring the fact that nothing but a thin layer of white lawn cotton covered the swell of her breasts, Aurora refused to be brushed aside so easily. “I may have no knowledge of whatever past mistakes or triumphs or disasters have shaped your character, but I have seen enough of you to know what good qualities lurk within your heart, no matter how much you seek to keep them a secret.” Her mouth had ended up only inches from his. “I-I hadn’t thought it likely that there existed a male whose overweening conceit and bullying nature did not overshadow any?—”
Alex did not allow her to finish. His lips came down upon hers, cutting off all words save for an inarticulate cry from deep in her throat. With an answering groan of passion, he was all ofa sudden on his feet, the table knocked over on its side as he gathered her in his arms.
“I fear I don’t deserve your high opinion, but I am weak enough to accept it, because I want it very badly.” His hand was cupping one of her breasts, his fingers coaxing the rosy tip to a throbbing hardness. “I want it very badly, indeed,” he murmured, lowering his head to take the nub and a swirl of sheer fabric between his teeth.
Aurora feared that for the first time in her life she might swoon. Only the thought that she would then be unconscious to the glorious things he was doing to her body kept her senses from going completely blank. She arched under his touch, her knees clenched around his thigh to keep her legs from careening off in opposite directions. The soft cries that filled the darkened room echoed with an urgent need she would never have recognized as her own, having never experienced it before.
Her hands clung to the damp linen of his shirt, then loosened the fastenings and slid inside, her palms running over the coarse curls and bare skin. His own low moans mingled with the sounds of her passion, and suddenly her nightrail was lifted up and over her head, leaving her completely naked to the rovings of his touch.
“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely, yanking off his own shirt so that she might explore the breadth of him. They had somehow moved to the far side of the hearth and Alex slowly lowered their entwined bodies down onto the pallet that had served as his bed. “Has it been a long time since you have been with a man, sweeting?” he asked, as his mouth grazed over one nipple, then the other.
She nodded, finding it impossible to speak any coherent word.
“Then I shall try to go slowly.” He sat up and tugged off his boots with barely concealed impatience. “Though in truth I feelno more in control than a randy schoolboy about to have his first experience at lovemaking.” His breeches followed and he turned to straddle her, as unclothed as she was.
In answer, she reached up and pulled his head down, opening her mouth in intimate invitation for him to enter her. Their tongues touched in a heated embrace, and Aurora felt something ignite in the core of her being. His hand left a trail of sparks along the soft planes of her belly, and when it came to rest at the downy triangle between her legs, she was positively on fire.
Aurora cried out—for what she wasn’t sure. But Alex seemed to have no trouble interpreting her need. His fingers began a slow, circular caress and for a moment she thought she might go up in smoke.
“Alex. Oh, Alex,” she moaned, nipping at the tanned flesh of his neck.
