Mistress at Midnight(29)

Her fingers strayed, holding the small bud of his nipple, causing Hawk to simply stop breathing.

He would impregnate her; he knew he would, his seed climbing into  fertile flesh and growing. He wanted to see the swell of motherhood on  her flat pale belly.

Surprise hit him fully as he hardened again, the clenching surge of it  taking breath as he turned her against him and pinned her  motionless-slowly this time, listening to the rhythms of the long and  silvered night. She cried out as his fingers found her desire and  brought her with him.

'My Hawk.'

His name, determined and possessive.

Then sleep came, borne upon the wings of exhaustion.

He woke her as the dawn climbed into the eastern sky, the first flush of  pink reminding him of the colour of her skin. He had not slept at all,  watching her lie against him, safe and quiet, her hair changing tones as  the day bloomed.

'Aurelia. Wake up.'

Blue and brown snapped open. Disorientation. Fear. And then acceptance.  He liked the way her fingers curled into his own, a trusting touch.

'It is nearly morning. If others are not to know of this … ?' He left the  rest unsaid, but already she had risen, her hair falling to her waist as  she pulled the bodice up and the creases in her skirts down.

'Your servants?'

He knew what she asked. 'Are asleep still.' He had his own shirt in place by now and his trousers.

'You cannot come with me, Stephen, back to Braeburn House. I need to go alone.'

With her shoes and stockings on and her hair bundled into its more familiar plait, Aurelia looked impatient to be gone.

'My cloak will hide any damage,' he heard her say as they walked back  down the stairs, the colour in her cheeks high, but he could not let her  go like this. Carefully he took one hand in his own.

'Thank you.'

She smiled then, a full honest humour across her eyes, and allowed him  to hold her fingers as they made their way through the front door to  hail a hansom cab. After seeing her into it, he stepped back, his figure  receding as she was driven the road.

She was home again in her room, the clock only just striking six and not a movement in the house.

Nothing had changed and yet everything had. She was a scarlet woman, a  fallen woman, a woman who had seen a chance that she wanted to take and  had taken it, in the bed of a lord who had transported her to heaven and  back.

Between her thighs was the wetness of their coupling and her lips were  swollen. Crossing to her mirror, Aurelia saw how his loving had marked  her, branded her, making real that which she might have otherwise  thought she imagined.

The scarlet silk highlighted everything. Her hair. Her pouting mouth. The swell of her bosom where his hands had lingered.

What next? What would happen when she saw Hawk again in the light of day  at some soirée with all the manners and expectations of the ton  swirling about her? What if she saw him in Leonora's presence or in  Cassandra's? Would he say something? Would he hold her hand and  expect … recognition? Would those about them perceive what she was certain  would be in her eyes and on her face, her cursed blushes more prominent  now than had been noticeable as a maiden?

She had unstoppered a genie that was both magical and terrible. Lust  burnt in her eyes, the glitter of memory having an effect on her stomach  and on the places between her legs where he had touched. Throbbing.  Craving.

Outside, the first dawn calls of the birds surfaced and the sky was  lightening. A new day and a new life. Closing her eyes, she smiled.





Chapter Twelve


Leonora pressed into her side as Rodney Northrup went to find them each a drink.

It had been two days and nights since her … folly? She could conjure up no  other way to put it and she had not heard a word from Stephen Hawkhurst  since.

'I love these large affairs,' her sister was saying. 'I love the lights  and the dresses and the dancing, but most of all I love Rodney.'

Aurelia had to nod in agreement. Cassandra's brother was gracious,  charming and attentive. He had called in at Braeburn House almost every  morning since Hawkhurst's ball and his composure and temperament had  never faltered. 'You are most fortunate to have caught Northrup's eye,  Leonora, though I am certain he would say the same about you.'                       
       
           



       

'You truly like him, Aurelia? I can't tell you just how much that means  to me, for I think if he asks me to be his bride I shall say yes.'

Her voice wavered as she looked across the room. 'Is that not Mr James  Beauchamp, Lia? I had asked Rodney to point him out to me once and I am  certain that is the man speaking with Lord Hawkhurst.'

A tightening in her throat had more to do with the name of Hawkhurst  than the mention of a man who would be her father's successor and she  felt her fingers grip her reticule with a sudden strength.

'You look pale, Aurelia, but do not worry. All your efforts with Papa  have paid off and I have never heard even the slightest of whispers … '  She stopped as the two men looked to be coming their way. Three, now,  for Nathaniel Lindsay was also at their side.

'Mrs St Harlow, Miss Beauchamp.' Hawkhurst spoke first, the polite smile  on his face alluding to none of the secret hours that they had shared  in the moonlight. Allowing a good space between them, he introduced  James Beauchamp, the mask of cordial social discourse firmly in place.

Her father's heir was nothing like Aurelia had expected. He looked  younger, for a start, and was more convivial. Taking her hand warmly, he  bowed in respect.

'I had hoped to be introduced to you since my return from the Americas a good three months ago, Mrs St Harlow.'

'Indeed.' She did not look over at Hawkhurst at all. What was he playing  at? She had warned him not to interfere and yet here he was and in a  venue where she couldn't refuse to at least offer politeness.

Leonora had taken her once-removed cousin's presence much to heart,  however, and was impressing upon him the importance of meeting with  Harriet and Prudence. Nathaniel Lindsay watched the proceedings with  interest.

'We did not see you last evening at the Coopers', Mrs St Harlow. There  was a musical interlude and I thought you might have been interested.'

'I had a quiet evening, Lord Lindsay.'

'The influenza is still troubling your father, then?'

Forced into another lie she nodded, catching the hint of humour in  Hawkhurst's face. Cassandra had come amongst the group and as a waltz  began she ordered Hawkhurst to ask Aurelia to dance before leading her  husband on to the floor, James Beauchamp and Leonora following.

When Hawkhurst's arms came about her all she could remember was the  wonder of their night together, though she tried her hardest to appear  as nonchalant as he was.

'Your nemesis is not a bad chap and as he was pestering Nat for an  introduction I thought to do the honours myself. His own abode is  supposedly bigger and more prepossessing than Braeburn House.'

'Oh.'

'He is rich, Aurelia, and congenial. In the scheme of things an  introduction to one of your sisters might not be too bad a thing-easier  than stalking another aristocrat, at least.'

When she did not answer he continued. 'The world is not always crouching  to strike, my love.' The unexpected endearment had her looking up.  'Perhaps if you gave it a chance you might end up surprised.'

Of a sudden Aurelia had no real grasp of which issue he spoke on.

'I missed you last night.' He whispered this so that there was no possibility of being overheard.

To one side of the room she noticed Elizabeth Berkeley and her group of  friends again dressed mainly in the colour yellow watching them. Danger  lurked everywhere here. In Nathaniel Lindsay's humour-filled eyes and in  his wife's insistence on Hawk asking her to dance. Even Leonora was  taking her place in the unravelling of protections by inviting James  Beauchamp home to Braeburn House.

The pursuit of her own needs was causing everything else to fall out of place, invitations, introductions and endearments.

Yet Stephen Hawkhurst had remained honourable in his promise of privacy.  Not in a public word or gesture did he appear as a man who had taken  all she would offer and wanted to again.

'Are you free tonight?'

She should shake her head and say no. She should smile politely and deem  all that had been between them a mistake. She should ask him to release  her from any promises and vows whispered in the heat of passion and  walk away. Unhurt.

But she couldn't. Instead she waited.

'I will be in the carriage on the corner that turns into Upper Brooke Street at twelve tonight.'

When her heartbeat speeded up she knew that he could feel it. 'Then I shall be there.'

As the music finished Hawkhurst led her back to her sister and Rodney  and Cassandra and Nathaniel joined them. As she stood opposite  Hawkhurst, making polite conversation, every part of her longed to be  closer, knowing him, feeling him.