Tall, Dark and Disreputable (22 page)

A
cheery fire burned in the grate of Lord Dayle’s bookroom and Portia sat before it, warmed through. Mateo’s acceptance of Marcus had enabled them all to return to the Viscount’s town house where Marcus had presented her with a thick roll of papers. With a flourish, he had said, ‘The conveyance on Stenbrooke. I doubt it would have held up, in any case, as is it not even in my legal name.’

Portia had none the less greatly enjoyed feeding the thing to the fire and watching it go up in smoke.

Now she drowsed in a comfortable chair and let the men’s animated talk flow over her. Sleepily, she let her gaze roam over the pair of them. Last week Dorrie had been the only thing preventing her from feeling completely alone in the world. Today she had a new brother. And a lover. She sighed. Yesterday she had been worried that her longing for Mateo sprang from a fear of being alone. Tonight she knew that some deeply buried part
of her had thought him safe precisely
because
he was certain to leave her alone.

For so long she’d dreamed of independence, of finally having control of her own life. Thanks to these two men, she finally had it. Even more importantly, she knew she deserved it. But for the first time she feared it wouldn’t be enough.

She closed her eyes against the pain of that realisation.

When she opened them again, the room had gone quiet. A glance told her that the fire had burned low. Mateo sat in a chair nearby, watching her.

‘Did you know that you snore?’ he asked conversationally.

She sat up. ‘I do not.’

‘You do. Just the tiniest rasp.’ He got up, crossed over to her and cupped her jaw with his large, calloused hand. ‘It’s adorable.’

‘I’d wager you snore, as well,’ she said irritably, ‘but I doubt it’s adorable.’ She was perversely annoyed because she didn’t know for certain.

His other hand rose to frame her face. ‘It’s our last night together,’ he said quietly. ‘Everyone else has gone up to bed.’

She leaned into his caress. He kissed her then and she knew that she’d been right, this was not enough. She would miss the incredible connection they shared, miss the comfort of his company, the sure knowledge that he knew her thoughts almost before she did, and found
them amusing and worthwhile. Years loomed ahead, years that suddenly seemed empty because they wouldn’t be filled with him.

But he’d said it himself—they were so different. He needed the sea, needed a sense of freedom just as he needed air to breathe. And he needed the chance to show the world what he could do. He could never be happy if he was forced to give those things up.

And was she any different? She spared a moment’s thought to the idea of giving up Stenbrooke. A wrenching pain squeezed her heart, and a healthy dose of fear, but she thought she could do it. A lifetime with Mateo would be more than a fair trade.

But the same, she feared, could not be said of him. And what would happen to her heart if he refused the idea? Or worse, if he agreed and came to resent being tied to her?

‘You’re thinking too loud,’ he said softly in her ear. ‘And tonight is for feeling. You can think tomorrow.’

She sighed. But he was right. So she would savour the moments that they’d already shared and she would fill this night with more. Her arms crept up around the expanse of him and buried themselves in the tangle of his curls. She kissed him with all the longing in her past and future.

He pulled her tightly against him, as if he could not get close enough. There was a desperate urgency in them both that fuelled their feverish touches, but which somehow added another layer of tenderness to every caress.

Time slowed to a crawl. Perhaps it stopped altogether
as they played, touching, tasting, laughing softly with each button that came undone and each tape that came untied. At last he was standing naked and she was left only in her stockings. She bent to undo the rosebud fastening of her garter.

He put out a delaying hand. ‘Don’t. I like them.’ He fingered one frilly garter admiringly. ‘Especially the roses.’

‘Well, what did you expect?’ she said tartly. ‘No doubt if I were a dockside doxy I’d have fish, or anchors or something nautical on my garters.’ She laughed. ‘What do you suppose the Countess has on hers?’

He didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead he dropped to his knees and pressed a hot kiss to the tender skin her stockings left bare.

She gasped.

Torture. That’s what it was. He nipped and teased the soft flesh of her thighs, even moving behind her and paying lavish homage to the back of her legs. His hands roamed down over her calves and up over her buttocks, setting her to squirming.

‘You said you trusted me.’ His warm breath tickled her right through her stocking.

‘I do.’ It was a vow.

‘Then put your hands on the arm of the chair.’ His voice was soft, but there was a ring of command in it, as well. Her heart pounded, but she did as he asked.

‘Lower,’ he said. ‘Brace yourself on your elbows. And spread your legs.’

She did, swallowing back a surge of anxiety. She
was open before him, on display, exposed and vulnerable. But it was Mateo who asked, Mateo who had taken such tender care of her spirit, she could not but trust him with her body. Tense, she waited.

‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘Gorgeous.’ He slipped a finger along her woman’s crease as he said it and she started, then groaned in pleasure.

She was wet and ready for him. His fingers lingered, teasing back and forth, threatening her sanity. He reached further and teased the swollen centre of her passion. Her sex pulsed with arousal.

‘
Dio
, but I cannot wait. I wanted to make this last all night long, but I have to be inside of you.’

‘Don’t wait,’ she said. And discovered that there was a power in her ability to overthrow his control.

He raised her from the chair and positioned himself behind her, between her legs, the length of him a burning brand against her. She gasped as he pushed gently across her achingly wet folds.

And then he slid home, entering her fully on one hard thrust. She cried out at that pleasure, at the wonderful stretching of her body and the incredible pressure of his.

He clutched her hips and began to move. She ached with the joy of it, with the intensity of her need, and she pushed back against him, demanding more. He gasped for breath, his grip on her tight, his thighs tense against her own.

His pace began to grow more frantic. He reached around and cupped her, his finger finding her swollen bud.
It was all she needed. With a cry she went over, shaking, shuddering, her body gripping his in waves of undulating pleasure. And he followed, crying out with a hoarse voice as deep inside her he throbbed to a violent release.

Eventually they stilled. Mateo withdrew gently from Portia’s body and, still holding her tight, he twisted so that they landed in the chair, with her on top of his lap. Softly he kissed the honeyed glow of her hair.

‘It’s not enough,’ he whispered. ‘I want more, all of you, in every way. I want you all night long, to make up for the nights ahead.’

‘Mmm.’ She gave a tiny wiggle against him, not lifting her head from his shoulder.

He laid his head against hers. ‘I’ve come to care for you, Portia.’

Her finger drifted across his chest. ‘I know.’

He pulled back, a little annoyed. ‘You know?’

She smiled lazily up at him. ‘You might not have said the words, but you’ve shown me in a hundred ways.’

‘I didn’t mean for it to happen,’ he said testily. ‘In fact, I tried damned hard to prevent it.’

‘I know,’ she said again, but her smile took some of the sting from her words. ‘I care for you, too, you know.’

‘It’s incredibly foolish of us.’ He sighed.

And it was. The Countess of Lundwick might spout on about journeys, but it was Portia who had come the farthest.
Dio
, but he was proud of her—of the tough determination she’d shown in the face of adversity and the extraordinary courage it had taken to allow him past it.

He’d seen the fierce joy in her eyes when that deed
of conveyance had gone up in flames. She’d battled hard for her independence and now she had won it. He’d done his best to help her reach it—how could he even think about asking her to give it up now?

It would be the height of selfishness to consider it. And the height of foolishness, as well. He clenched his teeth. More than just geography and temperament kept them apart. This was Portia’s chance to live her dream, bask in her triumph. She deserved the opportunity to stand on her own two feet, to discover her own strength firsthand.

‘I’ll have to leave tomorrow,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘You’ll take a piece of me with you.’ Her voice shook with feeling.

He reached out to caress her, stroked her hair. And ignored the fact that his hand was shaking, too. ‘It’s the most precious gift anyone has ever given me.’ He lifted her chin and stared into her gold-flecked eyes. ‘I will treasure it always.’

‘Tonight is a gift, too,’ she said, reaching for him. ‘For both of us.’

He pressed his lips to hers. ‘Then let’s make the most of it.’

T
he
Lady Azalea
rocked, resisting the tug of the tidal surge. Mateo stood alone on the quarter deck, enjoying the feel of the wind washing over him, waiting for the tang of sea air to fill him with anticipation and joy. Deliberately, he faced south. The sea was there, just beyond the mouth of the harbour. A siren, she tempted him with her call. For the first time in his life, he hesitated to answer.

Over the last week he’d found one reason and then another to delay their departure. His chief mate was growing restless, his crew had begun to look at him in wonder. Still, he could not bring himself to give the order to heave anchor and cast off.

Other voices filled his head, drowning the siren’s song. His father’s rang loud and often.
What are you looking for, son?
Portia’s often followed.
Have you been looking for it, do you think? For peace?

He had not been looking for it. But it had found him anyway. Because that’s exactly what Portia gave him:
peace and companionship, calm acceptance and unconditional trust. All the things he’d refused to acknowledge he’d been seeking as he wandered.

But the real beauty, the great, grand wonder of Portia was that she also gave him adventure and desire, opposition and laughter. Everything that he’d embraced as a substitute, and come to crave.

In Portia he’d found everything, all rolled up in a saucy, delectable package.

Dio
, but he was a fool to even think of leaving her behind.

His mind churned as he stared unseeing at the busy harbour. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way. Deliberately he turned from the rail and went to his cabin.
Now
anticipation set his heart racing, but he held himself in check, adopting calm as he sharpened a quill and pulled a fresh stack of paper from his drawer.

He had a lot to put down, and it took quite a while. He had just finished, and was sealing a thick packet of documents when his mate knocked and entered the cabin.

‘Oh, there you are, John,’ Mateo said pleasantly. ‘Order me up a boat’s crew, please. I’m going ashore.’

The man looked at him in surprise. ‘Actually, the boat’s manned and ready, Captain. We’ve just had a signal. There’s a passenger wanting to sign on.’ He paused, considering. ‘We can fit him in if we bunk Hatch in with the men.’

‘Good, but tell him and the crew, too, that it will be several days, likely a week before we set sail.’

‘Another delay, Captain? The crew will—’

‘The crew will do as I say, as always. Anyone who wants to question that can head ashore and find berth on someone else’s ship. Now go and make sure that boat is manned, John.’ He handed over the sealed packet. ‘And see that this is delivered. I’ve written down the address. I’m going to Berkshire. You’ll have the ship while I’m gone.’

‘Aye, sir.’

The boat weaved through the harbour traffic and Mateo fought the urge to hurry the men as they pulled. The Portsmouth docks loomed ahead, indistinct in the evening light. Mateo’s mind ranged ahead, trying to calculate how long it would be until he could reach Stenbrooke, trying to anticipate Portia’s reaction to his plans.

The pier was closer now, but quiet at this time of the evening. A lone figure stood there, watching them come in.

Mateo started, then rose half out of his seat. Surely not?

‘Strongly now, men! Pull! Put your backs into it!’ He narrowed his gaze and peered across the water. His heart nearly burst with joy as he cupped his hands and shouted across the water. ‘Peeve! What in blazes are you doing here?’

She waved, but didn’t answer. The boat pulled alongside and Mateo was scrambling out and on to the pier before the men had even pulled in their oars. With a laugh, he swept Portia up into his arms and twirled her
wildly about. ‘How did this come about?’ he asked joyfully. ‘And where is Dorrie?’

‘Dorrie is in Wiltshire,’ she said with a smile. ‘I wrote to Mrs Rankin and told her we had been to call on her son. I sang Dorrie’s praises and made sure to mention how struck she had been with the potential of Longvale. She received an invitation to visit, and, if I’m not mistaken, Mr Rankin and his mama are even now evaluating
her
potential.’ She cast a dark look over his shoulder towards a bustling dockside tavern. ‘And just where were you going?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘To Berkshire.’

A tiny grin fought its way through her severe expression. ‘Why?’

He lifted a shoulder. ‘I’m two and thirty years old. I thought perhaps it was time I started listening to my father.’ He looked steadily at her. ‘Would you care to travel along with me?’

‘It sounds lovely, but I couldn’t. I’ve just booked passage to Philadelphia.’

His mouth dropped. ‘You’re the passenger?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

He gathered her into his arms. ‘Oh, I’ll have you.’ He bent to kiss her, but pulled away at the last second.

She pouted.

‘I feel it’s only honourable to inform you of the change in my circumstances, Peeve.’ He frowned down at her. ‘You may wish to reconsider your passage.’

She raised a questioning brow.

‘I’m afraid I’m no longer the sole owner of a
shipping company. I just turned fifty percent of it over to Marcus Donati.’

She gasped. ‘Oh, Mateo! I cannot believe it!’

He smiled. ‘I’m done with skimming the surface. I’m diving in and soaking up everything life has to offer.’ He ran a finger along the tempting sweep of her nape. ‘And the best it has to offer is you.’

Her eyes filled. ‘Still, it is a generous gesture—and I know how difficult it must have been for you.’

He shook his head. ‘Not at all. I’m going to let him hold the reins for a while. He deserves a chance at the family legacy. If he hurries, he might still join the fleet to Canton, but even if he does not, with his contacts in Italy he’ll make a good go of it.’ Sobering, he asked, ‘Well, what of it, Peeve? Will you turn tail and run back to Stenbrooke now?’

Clearly holding back laughter, she bit her lip. ‘I cannot.’

‘Why not?’

‘Wait.’ She reached down and dug into her portmanteau and held out a thick packet of her own. ‘I signed a deed of conveyance, granting it to Marcus Donati.’

He sucked in a shocked breath. ‘You didn’t!’

‘I’m nearly seven and twenty years old. I thought it was time I stopped letting fear make my decisions for me.’ She bit her lip. ‘I had to take the chance. I had to ask. You mean more to me than Stenbrooke ever could.’

Very gently, he reached out and took the parcel from her hand. Then he turned and with a mighty heave, threw it out into the harbour.

‘Mateo!’ she gasped. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Because I can’t let you give Stenbrooke up, after you battled so hard to keep it. And in any case, we’re going to need it.’

Her shock was quickly done in by curiosity. ‘We are?’

‘We are,’ he said firmly, then leaned down and kissed her soundly. ‘Packets, Peeve! A business of my own that I can have the running of from the ground up! We’ll have the best of both worlds: earth and sea. I’ll have a fleet of ships to manage, but we’ll need a retreat, a place where we can get away from the bustle of the docks, the pressures of business, a place to make babies and watch them run free.’

Tears shone in her eyes again and she nodded vigorously.

‘Perhaps we can live part of the year in England, and part in Philadelphia. Perhaps we’ll build a new home in Le Havre or on the Rio de la Plata.’ He grinned. ‘You can have a garden for every climate.’

‘I don’t need a home in every port. All I need is you.’ Her arms clutched him tightly. ‘We only have one life, Mateo.’ She smiled. ‘One journey. I want to travel it with you.’

‘One life,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s make it memorable.’