Page 70 of Tender Blackguard

Once Lark reached her bedroom, she changed into her nightgown and robe as she did every night. Then she released her hair from the severely pinned style and brushed it out until it fell straight to her waist. After blowing out the candles, she curled up in one of the chairs before her fire and waited for the house to grow silent. Then she waited another hour after that.

Finally, she left her room without a candle to light her way and crept through the darkened house to the library. Closing the door behind her, she paused in the center of the cavernous room and listened. When she was fully certain no one was about, she approached the corner beside the fireplace and slipped through the hidden panel to the passage beyond. Though she moved through complete darkness, her steps were confident and sure. Unwavering in their destination.

When she reached the door to the lord’s bedchamber, she paused again. Not out of hesitation, but to calm her suddenly racing heart. Deep breaths did nothing. In fact, the longer she stood there, on the cusp of everything she wanted, the more wildly her belly fluttered and her fingertips tingled in anticipation.

Lark had never been the type to prevaricate on anything. But this...this felt so much more important than anything she’d ever done. She had to do this right. She needed to do this so he understood the truth. But most of all, she wanted to do it. Because she wanted him. Desperately and with everything she was made of.

Extending her awareness, she heard nothing beyond the door. No breath nor movement. But she knew he was there. She sensed it in the frisson of heat across her nerves and in the bone-deep certainty of her choice.

Allowing a final shaky exhale, she triggered the lever that released the panel. It opened silently and she stepped into the candlelit room.

Her attention was instantly drawn to the marquess as he reclined in the oversized bathtub before a dancing fire. He faced away from her and didn’t move when she secured the panel behind her. Taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t yet know she was there, she allowed her gaze to travel softly over the strong lines of his shoulders and muscled arms where they rested along the curved rim of the tub.

As she started forward, slowly and silently, she noted that one of his legs was raised and also rested along the rim of the tub. She became momentarily fascinated by the shape of his foot. It was a finely shaped foot, masculine and elegant. Her gaze traveled over the strong bones of his ankle, then his muscled calf liberally dusted with black hair. The bend of his knee garnered a moment of admiration before her perusal continued along the column of his thigh to where it disappeared beneath the water.

The heady scent of his soap filled the room, infusing her body with warmth. And desire. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she couldn’t help but imagine the parts of him she couldn’t see. The broad planes of his chest and rippled belly. His narrow hips and there...between his thighs...

“Have you come to torment me?”

His darkly spoken words drew a quiet gasp from her lips.

Though she’d been carefully approaching him, she was still behind him and well outside his peripheral vision.

Had she made some noise?

As though hearing her thoughts, he said thickly, “No matter how silent you are, I always know when you’re near. My body knows it. My very essence knows it. Knows you,” he added in a raw murmur she wasn’t entirely sure she was meant to hear.

“As I know you, my lord.”

His chin dropped forward and he muttered something beneath his breath. Then he tipped his head back to rest on the edge of the tub and sighed. A rough sound that tore through Lark like the edge of a blade.

“You’ve come to my bedchamber in secrecy and silence. Perhaps you could bring yourself to call me Alastair.”

Having stopped her progress when he spoke, Lark started forward again. Though she would have liked to stop there beside him—to reach out and smooth her hand along his arm or delve her fingers into the damp waves of his hair—she continued past him to the window across the room. Saying nothing, she stared up at the dark and clouded sky before pulling the drapes closed and turning to face him again. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Not because she was having second thoughts but because she wasn’t ready to see his denial and resistance.

So, she kept her gaze slightly lowered as she released the sash of her robe and allowed the unadorned garment to fall to the floor. Then she gently tugged at the ribbon tie that kept the neck of the nightgown from gaping and sliding off her shoulders.

“Lark.”

Hearing her name spoken with such raw intensity in a tone that was both a warning and a plea sent a tremor of desire straight through her center.

And with it came a renewed confidence in this being more right and necessary than anything she’d ever done. More right than taking a tiny girl-child under her wing against every rule of survival she’d lived by. More right than leaving the freedom of the rookery for the girls’ asylum. Even more right than taking a position in the household of a mysterious lord so she could be closer to where her friend had disappeared.

This was right in a way that was intrinsic to her very soul.

Courage and a deep feeling of empowerment surged through her as she walked slowly toward him. Her fingers were deft as she released the ribbon tie and her nightgown loosened to slip down one shoulder.

Tentatively lifting her gaze, she watched as his intense focus faltered and his attention fell to her bared collarbone and then lower. His eyes burned, as though he could see through the cotton of her gown to her body beneath. When she came to a slow stop at the foot of the tub, his eyelids lowered to shutter his gaze and his tongue rolled out to wet his lips. Every nerve ending she possessed sang with heady anticipation.

Though she was intensely tempted to soak in the sight of his full form under the wavering surface of the water, when she looked into his eyes, she became utterly enthralled.

By the subtle flicker of uncertainty and vulnerability she saw there. By the pain he tried desperately to conceal. And by the heavy, intoxicating mixture of lust and longing that burned bright in the crystalline blue of his stare.

“If you’ve come to torture me,” he muttered in a gravelly whisper, “please just kill me now.”

Her insides twisted with a delicious rush of heat and awareness that settled between her legs. With a subtle shimmy of her shoulders, her nightgown lost its mooring and dropped to her feet.

“I want no more pain or torment or denial between us.” Her voice was calm and steady despite the trembling that had taken control of her body. “I want only the truth and offer the same. I want you, Alastair...I want to be with you. More than I’ve wanted anything in my life.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say more, but she swallowed the words she struggled to fully believe and said something she absolutely knew to be true. “I need you. Tonight. Now.”

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