They were both gasping, valiantly clinging to the last shreds of sanity, wanting, desperately, to prolong the moment, so intense, so intimate, so compelling, when he lowered his head, ran his teeth along the taut curve of her neck, exposed as she arched her head back. And thrust deeper still.

"I'll never let you go." The words were gravelly and harsh. "You know that, don't you?"

Her "Yes" was a whisper, a silver surrender wafting on the moonlight.

She lifted one hand from his thigh, reached up, back, touched his cheek. Lovingly traced as she had so often before, the simplest communion.

He turned his head, pressed his lips to h

er palm, then bent, pressed his lips to the base of her throat, tightened his hold on her.

Slipped the reins and let them free.

Let the power flow through him into her, felt it reflect back, thrust it back, felt the inexorable rise, the overwhelming rush, the irresistible escalation that caught them up, fused their souls, sent them soaring into bright ecstasy. Until they shattered.

The power gently ebbed, leaving them floating on a golden sea.

Martin woke before dawn as he had once before with Amanda's soft weight snuggled against him. This time, he closed his eyes and let contentment wash over him.

After wallowing for some moments, he sighed, turned on his side, and ran his hands slowly down her body. She murmured sleepily, arched, turned to him and wound her arms about his neck. He kissed her lingeringly, then murmured, "We'll have to separate when we get back to town."

"Hmm… but not for long… and… not yet." Eyes still closed, she drew him to her. He closed his arms about her, rolled her beneath him, and left tomorrow to take care of itself.

It took them most of the day to drive back to London. Onslow's arm wasn't healed sufficiently for him to drive; they left him recuperating under Allie's eagle eye, and drove down in Martin's curricle. Martin handled the reins with Amanda beside him; Reggie sat behind in the tiger's seat.

As the curricle sped south, Martin and Amanda outlined all they'd learned, all they'd concluded-all they suspected. Reggie listened, then soberly said, "He won't stop, y'know. If he was prepared to kill to see the matter left alone, when you appear again, he won't just let be."

Expression grim, Martin nodded. "The question now is, should we let him know who he shot-or should we let him worry about that, too?"

Reggie voted to increase the pressure. "In that case"-Martin flicked his whip and urged the horses on-"we'll have to hide you."

They accomplished that by taking a roundabout route once they reached London's outskirts; they approached the fashionable district along the south side of the park as the last of the daylight faded, slipped into the drive of Fulbridge House, and quickly rattled around into the coach-yard behind it.

"No one saw us." Amanda scrambled down.

"Not a soul who would recognize us, anyway." Reggie climbed down from his perch more slowly.

Martin handed the reins to a groom, then turned to Reggie. "How's your head?"

Straightening from stretching his back, Reggie thought, then replied, "Not as bad as it was-the fresh air seems to have helped."

"Good. We'll have Jules, my henchman, take a look at the wound. He has tried-and-true remedies for all injuries."

Amanda slipped her arm supportively through Reggie's and turned him to the house. "Presumably Jules knows how to make tea."

Later, when Jules had redressed Reggie's wound after announcing it was healing well, then supplied them with a sustaining if somewhat exotic dinner, they took refuge in the library and settled to plan.

On the drive down they'd agreed that the one other person they needed to involve was Luc Ashford. Martin wrote a note and sent it off to Ashford House, then they turned their minds to more immediate concerns.

"Reggie can stay here, which will keep him out of sight and also mean there's always one of us here-at the center of operations, so to speak."

Reggie had been wandering the room, looking at this and that; he considered, then nodded. "Everyone will know I left with Amanda." He looked at her, curled up in one corner of the fantastically draped daybed. "If you say I went to visit friends in the north, no one will expect to see me."

"Except your mother," Amanda reminded him, "who won't believe me. And I don't think you'll want me to tell her you've a hole in your head."

Reggie blanched. "Good God, no! I'll write a note. Tell her I'm going to see those friends. She'll accept that."

Martin looked at Amanda. "I'll take you home later tonight. Will your father have returned from his trip?"

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Cynster Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net