"I don't trust that girl," Summerson shot back, his words equally as clear. "That's the second time she's mysteriously appeared during one of our meetings. And I have the nagging feeling I've seen her elsewhere."
"She's a child."
"Perhaps. But she's also Drake Barrett's sister. So, child or not, I plan to keep an eye on her."
"Let me worry about Samantha. You worry about Atlantis. Now, I'd best get back into that ballroom ... before my absence is noted. We'll meet tomorrow at my office. Good night, Summerson."
Rem waited until both men had left before emerging from his hiding place, fists clenched with fury. To hell with objectivity, blast his ever-present cool and level head. Everything was changed now. For, whatever Atlantis was, whatever seedy dealings Anders was involved in, Samantha was at risk. And whether those dealings tied in with his mission or not, Rem thought, they had just become his top priority.
Let Anders or Summerson try to harm a hair on Samantha's head. Rem would kill them.
He had to think. But now was not the time. The most important thing now was to get Samantha away from Devonshire House and out of danger. Fast.
Scrutinizing the area, Rem determined the swiftest route back to the manor.
"Hello, sweetheart."
Stepping out of the shadows enveloping the manor's west wing, Rem ground out his cheroot and caught Sammy's elbow.
She started. "Where were you?"
Rem stared broodingly at the ground. His thoughts were in turmoil and, for the first time in years, so were his emotions. "You didn't expect me to stand by and watch you dancing with Anders, did you?"
Sammy recoiled from the harshness of his reply. "No, but . . ." She swallowed. "You're angry with me."
"Angry with you?" Rem drew a sharp breath, unable to dispel the dark sense of foreboding spawned by what he'd just overheard. He couldn't explain the reasons for his somber mood to Samantha, nor did he even want to. All he wanted was to hold her soft, warm body in his arms, bury himself inside her and hold the world at bay.
As Rem stared soberly into Sammy's questioning eyes, something inside him snapped. He tugged her abruptly into the shadows, sliding his hand beneath her sable mane and drawing her against him. "Come here." He seized her mouth with a kind of rough, raw desperation. "Angry with you? No, I'm not angry with you, imp. You're all that is precious ... fire and silk in my arms." He parted her lips, delved inside, infusing himself with her beauty. "So sweet, so soft. Lord, I need you." He kissed her throat, the delicate line of her jaw. "Put your arms around me."
"Yes." Sammy twined her arms about Rem's neck, perceiving his urgency, her heart pounding with anticipation.
Whatever had instigated Rem's sudden breach of control mattered not. All that mattered was that her long wait was over.
"Samantha. . ." Rem's hands roved restlessly up and down her back, seeking the deeper joining his body craved. "I have to be inside you."
Wordlessly, she nodded.
In one harsh motion, Rem drew back, flames erupting in his eyes. Valiantly, he battled the tempest pounding through his loins, commanding him to abandon his plan and take Samantha right here, right now, propriety be damned.
"Rem?" She lay her hand against his jaw. "What is it?"
The gentle question was Rem's undoing, feelings stronger than lust rushing through him with the impact of a tidal wave. He'd waited this long. He could withstand another hour to make it everything Samantha deserved. "Let's go."
He seized Sammy's hand, guiding her alongside the house until they'd reached the main entranceway, where some guests were departing, others arriving. Abruptly, Rem stopped, steadying his breathing, mastering his passion. When he was certain he'd regained control, he leaned forward, brushing Sammy's hair with his lips, murmuring quietly in the final seconds before they reached the others. "Remember what I said—trust me."
"I do," she whispered, totally at sea.
Her puzzlement was swiftly dispelled.
"An urgent business matter has arisen," Rem announced in a voice audible enough for those in the vicinity to overhear. "I must attend to it immediately."
As if on cue, the carriage bearing the Gresham family crest swung into the drive, slowing to a stop before them.
To Sammy's stunned surprise, the door opened and Boyd emerged.
"I've sent for Mr. Hayword, who has agreed to escort you home," Rem explained. "Please accept my apologies, Samantha. The situation cannot be helped."
Sammy blinked, so astounded by this turn of events that she couldn't speak.
"My lady." Boyd bowed, then extended his hand to assist Samantha into the carriage. "I'll see you safely to your Town house."
Baffled, Sammy turned to look at Rem. Their eyes met, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.
It was enough.
"Very well." Gathering up her skirts, Sammy put her hand in Boyd's and climbed into the carriage.
"Thank you, Boyd." Rem moved to stand beside his friend, continuing to speak in the same normal tone. "I owe you a favor."
"You owe me more than that if I manage this one," Boyd muttered for Rem's ears alone. Aloud, all he said was, "It's my pleasure. Once I've seen Lady Samantha home, I'll go to your Town house and await you there." Signaling the driver, Boyd swung into the seat opposite Samantha and sent Rem a brief wave.
They rode a block in silence. After that, Sammy could no longer contain herself.
"What on earth is going on?" she demanded.
Boyd gave her a crooked smile. "What do you think is going on?"
"You're arranging for Rem and I to be together," Sammy replied with no trace of embarrassment. She leaned forward. "Are you really taking me home?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm taking you to your home ... and to Rem's."
"What?" Sammy's eyes widened. "We're going to Remington's house?"
Boyd nodded. "Following our visit to yours. Now, I want you to listen carefully. When we arrive at Abingdon Street, we're going to approach your Town house slowly—slowly enough for passersby to see the Gresham crest nearing its destination. If need be, we'll wait until sufficient people have witnessed our approach. The carriage won't come to a stop ... if it does, there's always the chance your butler will hear as and come out, assuming you've arrived home." Another grin. "Which, despite appearances, you haven't. Now for the indelicate part. I hope you have no aversion to carriage floors. Because, when I say the word, I want you to drop down out of sight and stay there. Don't move or say a word until I tell you to. All right?"
Sammy could feel a sense of adventure surge through her. "Why, it's just like a Gothic mystery!" she exclaimed.
"Complete with fog, clandestine activities, and a tangled plot. And, of course, a wondrous hero."
She dimpled. "Two heroes, in fact."
Boyd chuckled, touched by her exuberance as well as her compliment. "Does that mean you'll do as I ask?"
"It does."
"Good girl." Shifting his weight, he peered out the window. "It'll be just a few moments now. We're lucky. Most of the ton is still reveling in evening festivities, so there aren't many carriages on the road." He fell silent, the only sound that of their horses' hooves clomping down the street.
"Abingdon Street is just ahead," Boyd noted at last. "Are you ready?"
Sammy nodded.
"Excellent." He drew the curtains wider, allowing all curious eyes to see him escort Lady Samantha home.
A minute or two later the carriage slowed, crawling toward the Barrett Town house.
One carriage passed.
Then another.
"That was Lord and Lady Wilmington," Sammy murmured. "She is a voracious gossip."
Boyd beamed. "Wonderful."
Three more carriages passed.
"That should do it." Again Boyd leaned forward, looking intently out the window. The street was temporarily deserted. "Number fifteen ... there. All right now, Samantha, duck."
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Sammy curled forward and eased herself to the floor, crouching down and tucking her skirts around her.
The carriage came within a whisper of stopping. It paused for a long, drawn-out moment just outside Sammy's Town house door. Then it moved on.
Boyd said nothing, just stared straight ahead. They'd gone but fifty feet beyond the Barrett's home when the sound of horses' hooves reached their ears. Waiting for the precise instant, Boyd poked his head out the window and called loudly to his driver, "I've delivered Lady Samantha as promised. Now, we'll go to the Gresham Town house and await the earl. Then it's off to the gaming tables."
The carriage sprinted forward.
Joy sang in Sammy's heart. She was on her way to Rem. He'd made provisions for them to be together— painstaking, chivalrous provisions.
He was truly the most splendid of heroes.
Sammy rested her head on her knees and waited.
Her legs were just starting to cramp when the carriage came to a flourishing halt.
Boyd climbed down at once, knocking purposefully on Rem's front door. No answer. Just as they'd planned.
Striking a match, Boyd lit a cheroot and sauntered back to the street, smoking. Simultaneously, he assessed the vehicles on Rem's street. A few carriages. Enough people to spy him here, alone, but not so many as to cause him trouble.
Good.
Leaning against the carriage, Boyd blew gray rings into the foggy skies, calling just enough attention to himself to be remembered. "Cover your head with your wrap," he instructed Sammy quietly without turning around. "And when I open the door, get out. Quickly and without a word. Go to the front door and knock." He ground the cheroot beneath his heel, waiting while the final carriage passed. Abruptly, he yanked open the door. "Now."
Her wrap cloaking her, Sammy alit, blinking as she accustomed her eyes to the foggy night. Following Boyd's instructions, she sprinted to the door and knocked.
The door opened.
Sammy entered.
The real evening had begun.
"Welcome, imp."
Rem's voice was a husky caress. "I trust you arrived here relatively unscathed."
"Relatively." Sammy lowered her wrap in time to see him lean past her and firmly shut the door.
They were alone. Sammy sensed it at once.
The lamps were turned down low, casting the hall in shadows. Pervaded by silence, the walls vibrated with heated anticipation, emanating excitement and longing and the wonderful, masculine scent of Rem. Sammy swallowed, feeling the palpable tension spring to life again, pulsing between them, inside them.
"Where are the servants?" she asked breathlessly.
"Gone." Rem braced his arms over either side of her, palms flattened against the heavy wooden door. "Does that frighten you?"
Sammy lifted her chin, met the smoky heat in his eyes and shook her head. "No." Reaching up, she traced his lips with trembling fingers. "I thought perhaps you'd truly sent me home."
"And left us aching? Never. I merely assured us long hours of privacy while protecting your reputation. If my strategy was successful, the entire haute ton believes you to be snug in your bed, blissfully asleep."
"Neither of which I intend to be ... in my own bed, or blissfully asleep." She sighed. "I've waited forever for this."
"So have I." He kissed her fingertips, one by one, each kiss more intimate than the one preceding it. "And I swore to myself that when the time came to finally make you mine, I'd go slowly. Even if it killed me. But now"—he drew her fingers into his mouth, his breathing ragged—"I'm just not sure I can."
"Don't," she whispered. Her hands glided up his waistcoat, her arms twined about his neck. "Don't go slowly."
Rem's mouth came down on hers; hard, demanding, seeking all she had ... and finding it. At the same time, he fused the distance between them, pressing her against the solid surface behind her, bringing her into absolute contact with the hardened contours of his body. "I want you," he said hoarsely. "I want to make love to you until every drop of passion is spent, until you shatter in my arms, until I pour my soul into yours. Samantha ..." His arms dropped to her shoulders, slid down her back, effortlessly lifted her into the drowning hunger of his embrace.
Sammy returned his passion full measure, a sharing rather than a surrender, the events soon to follow predestined, since that stormy night in Boydry's. Loving Rem, making love with him, was as natural a step to her as breathing.
Rem's lips possessed her everywhere; her cheeks, her neck, her throat. He was keenly aware of Samantha returning his kisses, giving herself to him with an innocent abandon more devastating than the erotic acts of the most practiced courtesans. His body careened wildly out of control, hurtling him into a dark oblivion dominated by instinct and feeling. Gone was the expert lover and accomplished seducer, in their place a man as unprepared for the intensity of what was occurring between them as was the beautiful woman in his arms.
Somewhere in the dim outskirts of his mind, Rem secured a shred of sanity ... enough to scoop Samantha off the floor, carry her up the stairs and into his bedchamber. He lowered her to the bed, following her down, capturing her mouth in another searing, blazing kiss, tugging the combs from her hair and letting the thick sable tresses cascade over his hands and down her back.
"I want you to feel things you never dreamed of," he breathed, capturing strands of black silk and bringing them to his lips. "I want this time—your first time—to be so perfect, so unbearably beautiful, you'll never forget it."
"I could never forget making love with you, Rem. Never." With breathtaking innocence, Sammy tugged at his cravat, slipping the knot free, only to begin unfastening his shirt.
Rem endured her untried attempts to disrobe him as long as he could. Then he caught her hands in his. "Let me."
A shadow of disappointment crossed her face.
Rem's heart constricted, and he brought her fingers to his lips, then back to his shirtfront. "Together," he whispered.
Moving Sammy's trembling hands under his, Rem unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat, pulling the edges apart and pressing her palms to his naked flesh.
Sammy caressed his chest, leaned forward to nuzzle the mat of dark hair covering it. "You're so strong," she breathed, rubbing her cheek against the hard muscles and steely flesh. "I knew you would be."
A ragged groan erupted from Rem's chest, and he dragged her mouth back to his, kissing her savagely, nearly tearing her gown in his haste to remove it. He worshiped her bare shoulders with his lips and tongue, inhaling her scent, soothing her body's unconscious trembling, only to find he was shaking more violently than she. The thin material of her chemise gave beneath his onslaught, and, wordlessly, he lifted her against him, rubbing her naked breasts across his chest.
Samantha whimpered, drowning in heated sensation, clutching Rem's arms for support. Her nipples tightened painfully with each tingling brush of his hair-roughened flesh; her loins went liquid with longing. Gathering handfuls of wool, she tugged at his coat, wanting to rid him of every impediment to their joining.
Responding to her unspoken plea, Rem released her only long enough to drag off the offending coat, taking his open shirt and waistcoat with it. His torso bared, he gathered Sammy to him again, melding their naked flesh until she moaned, her head dropping helplessly to his shoulder. "So damned good," he ground out, absorbing her shudders. "Let me taste you, sweetheart."
Gently he eased her back, wrapping one arm about her waist and arching her up to his mouth. It had been mere days since their forbidden encounter at Vauxhall, but he was starved for the taste of her, the sweet, intoxicating flavor that was Samantha's alone.
He enveloped her nipple with a slow, teasing suction that taxed his control and made Sammy cry out, the sensation too overwhelming to endure. She begged him to stop, then begged him not to, shifting restlessly to deepen his velvety caress.
Rem moved to her other breast, tracing the nipple with his tongue, circling endlessly before giving in to her pl
eas and drawing the aching tip fully into his mouth. He began a tantalizing motion with his lips, alternately tugging and releasing the sensitized peak until Sammy's hips reflexively followed suit, rising and falling in conjunction with the rhythm of Rem's mouth.
The naturalness of her passion nearly pushed him over the edge. She was all innocence and fire, fierce in her wanting, breathtaking in her abandon. Like a new flower, she blossomed in his arms, reaching for the blinding light she knew he offered; uninhibited, untainted, unafraid.
Untouched.
Rem's heart swelled with that realization. Samantha was giving him her innocence. And he wanted to give her the world.
"Let me finish undressing you, love." His chest heaving, Rem lowered her to the bed. He cupped her breasts, traced the damp peaks with his thumbs, all the while watching her meadow-green eyes darken with passion, her breath come in harsh pants of need. "You are every fantasy I've ever dreamed," he told her huskily, gliding his palms to her waist, catching her gown and rended chemise, sliding them down over her hips.
A radiant glow suffused Samantha's skin, not a shred of doubt clouding her eyes, neither modesty nor shame diminishing the anticipation on her face. She lay, quiescent, while Rem peeled away her stockings, tossing them atop her discarded gown and chemise. Totally exposed to his scrutiny, she made no move to cover herself, remaining perfectly still beneath his consuming stare.
He made love to her with his eyes, drinking in her flawless beauty inch by inch, staking claim with every heated look. At last, with a rough, hungry sound, he allowed his hands free reign, stroking her hips and then her thighs, urging them to part for a more intimate caress.
The pulse in Sammy's body beat frantically, her insides melting with the same hunger she'd felt when Rem had caressed her in his carriage. How well she remembered the feeling of his knowing hands. How desperately she wanted to feel them again.
Blissfully, she shifted, her eyes drifting shut as she awaited his touch.
Rem lowered his head and buried his mouth in her sweetness.
Sammy cried out, instinctively reaching down, whether to push him away or pull him closer, she wasn't sure.
Capturing both her hands in one of his, Rem continued his exquisite assault, penetrating her ever so slowly with his tongue, simultaneously caressing the sensitive bud of her passion with his thumb. "God ... your taste." He released her hands to cup her bottom, lift her into his seeking tongue. "This alone is enough to drive me over the edge. Tasting you. Claiming you." He raised his head. "Tell me you're mine."