My Lady Quicksilver

couldn’t think, couldn’t see. Her body moving against his, desperate for this, to assuage the ache in her chest, and now the ache between her thighs. It rose with choking swiftness—maybe because she wanted this so much, maybe out of sheer relief that he was touching her, giving her what she needed—and then it overwhelmed her with shocking suddenness.

Her cry echoed in the room, her body convulsing around his fingers as she clung to him, trying to ride it out. Somehow this was purer and sweeter than anything she’d ever felt before, as if the purging of all that emotion that had been choking her let her body sing.

Teeth rasped over her throat, biting at the soft skin over the vein. Rosalind’s eyes shot wide, knowing what he wanted, knowing the dark hungers that drove him. But if she dared ask him to trust her, then she had to give him the same trust. He wouldn’t force this on her, wouldn’t take directly from the vein. He never had.

Her eyes widened further, fear thick in her throat at the idea that sprang to mind. She couldn’t. Could she?

The thin stiletto rasped in her hair. The more she tried not to think of it, the more she couldn’t help herself. It terrified her. To give such control to another person, even Lynch. Her heart throbbed in her chest. Lynch lifted his head, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, his cheeks flushed with desire. He’d felt her withdrawal and looked to find the cause.

Rosalind grabbed a handful of his hair and kissed him, trying not to panic. She couldn’t let him go. Not now. Fingertips trailing down his chest, she felt the hard press of the hilt against the base of her skull.

“Rosa?” he asked.

She had the knife in her fingers before she could even think about it. Swallowing hard, she caught his own hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

Lynch froze. His smoky gray eyes met hers, heat spilling through them until they were black with fierce need. His gaze dropped to her throat, his lips parting with a little quivering jerk. He wanted it. So much. Too much.

Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through it and she watched the harsh emotions chase each across his face. “No,” he said softly. “No, you’re frightened… I won’t—”

She dragged his hand to her throat and pressed the edge of the blade against the throbbing vein. Their eyes met. “I want you to claim me. I want to be yours.”

Another shuddering moment. Then the hot sting as the blade sliced through skin. It clattered to the floor and then his hands cupped her arse and his mouth closed over her throat as her hips nestled around his.

The surge of feeling shot straight between her legs, igniting her body. Each pull of his mouth, each hot swallow tugged on her clit as if his mouth were there instead. She came, clutching at his shoulders, crying out, her hips rubbing against his, desperate, desperate now to get him inside her… Hands sliding between them, tugging at his breeches and then he was free, the hot surge of his cock filling her hands, rubbing against her wet-slick skin. She came again, crying out, whimpering… It felt like her heartbeat sped up, beating in time to his as his mouth took her blood into his own body, his own veins.

One hard thrust. Rosalind’s eyes went wide, drugged, candlelight melting into a puddle around them. Firm hands cupped her breast, sliding the buttons free, the very same ones she’d struggled with… Then his clever fingers slid over her nipple, tugging, teasing, his hips pumping as he thrust deep within her.

A rasped curse. Then Lynch was licking at her throat to close the wound, his hips thrusting her against the wall with furious desperation. His mouth caught hers, and she could taste the coppery tang of her own blood as their tongues clashed.

Rosalind’s heart thundered in her ears. I love you. She screamed the words inside, where he couldn’t hear, her eyes flooding with heat. Why couldn’t she do this? Why was it so hard to give so much of herself? It shouldn’t be this way. He deserved so much better, but she was so afraid, afraid that a part of him would look at her and not see anything deserving of those three little words.

“God, Rosa… Need you so much…” He gasped, fingers digging into her hips, his face tightening with fierce need. “Taste…so damned good…”

She cupped his face and kissed him, feeling the pressure building within him, within her. She wanted to explode, but she had to get this out before it was too late.

“I love you,” she blurted, a harsh whisper in the gasping stillness. Not what she’d intended but…enough…

He kissed her. Hard. Capturing the words on her lips as he drove her into the patterned wallpaper. Fingers slid between them and then she was lost, crying out, anchored only by the feel of his hands on her hips as his body shuddered against her, a harsh cry torn from his own throat.

Heat spilled within her. She held him through it, his face tucked against her shoulder and her hands sliding through his hair. Gasping, trying to catch her breath again, she felt each tiny shudder as it went through him.

Hers.

She understood then why he’d longed for her blood. This was the same. Not to own him, not to bind him to her with ties he couldn’t break, but to exist in that moment where the pair of them were one. To give—and to receive.

To be claimed.

Completely and utterly.

She knew that there was still so much between them, so many damned words that hadn’t been said, but for the first time tonight, she felt a tiny little bud of hope swell in her chest. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she pressed a small kiss against his throat.

She was never going to let him go now.

Twenty-five

Lynch rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face. Soft dawn light crept through the window and he could hear pigeons cooing on the roof above.

Panic surged through him and he dragged his shaking hand down over his mouth. So much he hadn’t been able to get through last night. And so much he had…

He glanced down, at the slumbering woman on the bed beside him. Rosa’s warmth lingered in the sheets, her breath shifting the cotton sheet that wrapped precariously around her, caressing the lush curves of her bottom. His heart stuttered in his chest. The memories of last night hammered at him like pinpricks of image shoved red-hot into his brain. Everything she’d admitted to, everything she’d said, those last whispered words he’d pretended not to hear… The ones that did so much damage to his heart.

He wanted them to be true. Wanted this to at least be worth it. But could he trust them? Trust her?

The answer to that was easy; if he believed that they were true, then he wouldn’t even be questioning it.

Lynch felt utterly drained. Judging by the clock on the mantel, he had only three hours before he was due to present himself before the court. His chest caught again, panic clutching at him with greedy fingers. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs simply refused to open. Reaching out, he grabbed for Rosa’s hand, felt her warm fingers tighten around his as she stirred with a soft moan. He didn’t want to be alone. Not this morning.

Somehow he sucked in a breath. It was easier, with her hand in his, but not enough. Lynch turned to her, sliding his other hand down over her bottom as he kissed her shoulder. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as he kissed her, stole her own breath.

This was good-bye. Those dark eyes met his as she woke and then she slid her iron hand into his hair and yanked his mouth to hers as if she felt the need, the fury that rode him. “Jasper?” she whispered, but he didn’t wish to speak. Not now.

He pushed her onto her back and came over her desperately. The heat of her body drove away the last of the panic as he thrust into her with fierce need. Each soft gasp from her lips anchored him, fighting off the last of his fear. If he could protect her, if she lived because of his sacrifice, then that would be enough.

It was fast, furious, desperate. And when it was over, she smiled up at him with dazed eyes, one hand still linked with his, and those iron fingers drifting tenderly over his cheek. His heart squeezed again and he buried his