Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

With one arm wrapped about her and the tiller in the other, he steered his boat, and for the first time in a long time he felt completely happy and content with his world.

Antoinette vaguely remembered being carried below deck and tucked back into the bed. At least the boat seemed to have stopped its dreadful rolling, and her stomach was calmer. The brandy had helped, maki

ng her sleepy, and she sighed as Gabriel began to unbutton her clothing. If he expected to find the letter, then he was going to be disappointed—she’d hidden it as soon as she came down there.

He slipped off her dress and loosened her petticoats and stays, leaving them on her. The bedclothes were warm and comfortable as he pulled them over her, and she could smell the sea on them and him. Then his lips brushed her cheek and he was gone.

A long time afterward she heard the rattle of a chain and knew he must have dropped anchor, and then his footsteps moving about on the deck and the sounds of equipment being tidied up and stowed away. Eventually he came back down to the cabin and slid into the bed beside her, reaching out to draw her against him.

Antoinette had planned to reject him, accuse him of all manner of crimes, but her limbs felt so heavy and her eyelids refused to open more than a fraction. So she nuzzled against his naked shoulder and smelled his warm, spicy scent. Her tongue flicked against him and she tasted salt.

At her touch he slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her face up and kissed her.

She didn’t mean to return his caress, but before she knew it they were locked in a hot and hungry kiss. He removed her remaining garments, kissing and caressing each new inch he exposed, until she was twisting and gasping and begging him to make love to her. His muscular thigh slid between hers, and she felt the familiar stirrings inside her. It was so easy to lose herself in her growing passion, far easier than trying to think and reason and decide what to do. His lips on her breasts, his fingers finding her most sensitive spots, his body moving inside hers, taking them both to that place where there was nothing but ecstasy.

But as always she had to come back to earth, eventually, and this time the bump of her landing was harder than usual.

“Where are we?” she demanded.

“Safe.” He sounded sleepy now.

“How do you know?”

He moved to touch her face but she pulled away, putting distance between them, glaring at him. She felt an unstoppable need to push and prod at him, forcing him to give her answers. Somewhere deep inside her, Antoinette longed for him to admit he’d abducted her because he couldn’t live without her. Even though she knew it was foolish and ridiculous and impossible, still she longed to hear him say it.

“What do you want from me?” she went on, moving to sit up, pulling the covers awkwardly over her naked breasts. “Why am I here?”

“Antoinette, please, not now…Sleep. We can discuss this in the morning.”

“I want to discuss it now. I need to know what you’re planning to do with me. I-I’m expected in London.”

His voice, so warm a moment ago, was suddenly cold. “You mean your duke is expecting you?”

Marietta? Who is Marietta? The question was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t force it past her lips.

“I want the letter,” he said, when she didn’t answer, the familiar refrain. “That’s why you’re here. Did you think there was another reason?”

“The letter. Yes, of course.” She’d forgotten the letter. How could she forget it when it meant so much to her? But she had.

He climbed out of bed and stood naked in the pale light from the lantern that swung gently from its hook in the ceiling. His eyes were pale blue, his face as handsome as she remembered, but he was a stranger. Not the highwayman and not Coombe, but someone else, someone she didn’t know at all.

“Why won’t you give it to me?” he said in that same harsh voice. “You can’t need it now. Do something unselfish, Antoinette, and give me the letter.”

“No! I need it. Without it I’ll never get away from Lord Appleby.”

There, she’d told the truth. She watched him, wondering what he would make of it and what questions he would have to ask. But to her dismay his expression grew even colder and harder than before, and any hope she had of winning him to her side vanished.

“So you intend to blackmail him with the letter, is that it?”

Did she? “Blackmail” was a horrible word but Lord Appleby was a horrible man.

“Where is it?” He turned and looked about him. Seeing her clothing spread about the cabin, he bent and picked up each garment, piece by piece, shaking them and searching them, even rending the padding in her petticoats to see whether the letter was hidden inside. Antoinette watched him, silent, holding her protests inside. When he finished with her clothes he grabbed her carpetbag and tipped it upside down on the bed, spilling out the contents.

Seeing her personal belongings rolling about was too much. “Stop it,” she said angrily, reaching out to stop him. But he wouldn’t be stopped. Everything must be searched and examined and then tossed aside, right down to the last hairpin and stocking.

“This is what I should have done in the very beginning,” he said in that hard, angry voice she didn’t recognize. “I would have saved myself a lot of wasted time and trouble.”

So that’s how he thought of her? A waste of time. No doubt he considered the times they’d made love a waste of time, too. Antoinette forced her own anger to fire up again, to disguise her misery.