Night Lover Read online

  As our legs tangled, all thoughts of Hugh Dawlish crept away. During Finn’s impassioned speech, I’d wanted to be strong and remind him I needed his support with whatever was happening in my dreams. But then he started kissing me, and I lost the ability to form coherent sentences.

  Something in Finn’s soul-sucking kisses brought the dead man back to mind. A part of me, the part everyone thought was crazy, rebelled and told me to push Finn away and run from his room. The voice in my head, Hugh’s voice, told me I betrayed him. That he’d never forgive me this sin of the flesh.

  But then I remembered how Hugh had professed his love for Claudia in his journals. Claudia, not me. Why shouldn’t I get to experience the same passion with Finn? Was I to waste my life chasing a ghost?

  His mouth teased a path down my neck to my breasts and he suckled there. The tight pulls on my nipple set off a chain reaction through my belly and down to my pussy. Everything in me hummed and cried and I drowned in sweet nostalgia. He’d always made me feel so good, but this Finn had learned a few new tricks. Older and wiser, he knew how to command a woman’s body, much as Hugh did in my dreams. One touch and my spirit soared. One lick and my seam fluttered. One exploratory finger parting my folds and I was lost.

  “Finn. Oh, God.”

  He toyed with my sex, swirling his fingers over my clit, and my vision grew foggy. In my haze, I noticed him bring his fingers to his lips and suck.

  “Still delicious.”

  I groaned as he slid down my body, inch by wonderful inch. My legs spread for him, as if needing him right there. His hot breath prepared me for his even hotter tongue, but my mind was not prepared for the rush of sensation and accompanying emotion. Grabbing my bottom, looking so comfortable between my legs, Finn licked me. The clouds before my eyes disappeared and my world seemed to explode in a violent clash of color. He licked at my entrance, and I saw soothing blues. He pulled my lips into his mouth, and white lightning streaked before me. He nibbled and sucked, and I surrendered to the red insanity of my orgasm, a pleasure so intense it had to be blasphemous.

  My Finn. Still mine.

  “He will not have you. You are mine.”

  Hugh’s voice cut through our groans. At first, I thought I imagined it. But when Finn looked up from my mound, his brows knit together, I knew he’d heard something too.

  Afraid, I crossed my arms over my breasts, feeling his eyes on me. “Finn, maybe we shouldn’t…”

  He climbed back up my body, still caressing my quivering sex. With a gentle, but determined touch, he pried my arms off my chest. “We wasted enough time. I’m not wasting another moment.”

  “But the voice…”

  He’d already dismissed it. “Someone must be out in the hall. Ignore it.” He reached in his bedside table drawer, pulled out a condom, and unwrapped it. His heated gaze always on me, he rolled it on and stroked his length. “Roll over, Lark. Show me that sexy arse, the one I’ve been dreaming about for eight years.”

  His naughty words helped me relax and I rolled onto my stomach. Before I could position myself, he drew me onto all fours. As he slid his cock along my entrance, I once again forgot about Hugh. Finn was right. I’d heard voices outside the room. Nothing more.

  In one, sweet thrust, he sank deep inside me, cursing. His fingernails digging into the flesh of my backside, he began to pump, and I grew giddy with the need to come again. My nipples pebbled. My stomach clenched. My pussy coated him in moisture, and each thrust drove me toward heaven. I squeezed my eyes shut, braced myself against the tide, and let him dominate my body. He lowered me closer to the mattress, his weight anchoring me there, his chest cradled over my spine. So close. So good.

  As I neared another dizzying climax, I heard a voice in my head. Hugh’s voice.

  Open your eyes.

  With trepidation, I did. Hugh Dawlish lay under me, his hands on my breasts, a wicked smile on his face.

  Sure I imagined him, I closed my eyes again, but when I opened them, a moment later, he was still there.

  As Finn pistoned into me from behind, lost in his own raptures, Hugh nestled below me. Teasing me. Tasting me. Hugh rolled my nipple between two fingers, driving me to breaking point. And as Finn filled me as I’d never been filled before, I cried out, but it was because Hugh stimulated me too, and I hated that he did. At first, Finn didn’t notice anything wrong. He continued to pump, cursing and murmuring my name, completely unaware of the havoc Hugh wreaked.

  See, my beloved? Hugh whispered in my head. Even as he takes you, you are still under my power. He leaned in and sucked on my nipple. Now, come. For me.

  A merciless orgasm ripped through me. Where I’d seen beautiful colors previously, I now saw myself swimming in a black sea, my only lifeline Hugh’s outstretched hand. My body shook as Finn climaxed with a shout behind me. I glared at my dream lover, shaking in terror and anger at his violation. Although I meant to keep silent, my words poured out of my mouth. “I hate you.”

  Breathing heavily, Finn stilled behind me. “What did you say?”

  “Not you, Finn. I didn’t mean you.”

  “Then who the hell did you mean?”

  Hugh’s mouth curled into a grin. When he spoke this time, his voice reverberated throughout the room. “Come now, Renata. You wish you could hate me, but you can’t.”

  Finn pulled away, looking around the room, his eyes wild. “Who the fuck was that?”

  I wanted to point to Hugh, to prove he was real, but he had disappeared.

  Finn jumped off the bed and removed the condom, disposing of it in the waste basket beside the bed. He began a frantic search, looking in the bathroom, the closet and even under the bed, in an effort to find the owner of the voice he’d heard. When he realized there was no one other than the two of us, he sat back down and pulled me into his arms, stroking along my spine. “Renata? I know I heard a man’s voice. It was in the room.”

  “I heard him, too.”

  His gaze dropped to my breast, and his eyes widened when he spotted Hugh’s newest love bite. He reached out a gentle hand and caressed me there. “What happened here?”

  “What do you think, Finn?” I replied, my voice cracking with shame and horror. “I may have a couple of talents, but throwing voices isn’t one of them. Hugh was here. With us.”

  His face turned the color of parchment paper. “That’s bloody impossible. That would mean…he would have seen…” He gulped at air. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Now do you believe me?”

  »»•««

  I awoke in Finn’s arms. Stirring before he did, I looked about the timbered room, expecting to see some trace of Hugh. Perhaps to glimpse his smiling wraith in the corner, or to find him propped on the corner of the bed, leering at us. Sighing in relief, I realized he wasn’t near. He’d once again disappeared into my subconscious.

  The morning sun just hinted at rising, the first few golden-pink rays tickling the window shade. Even with the window closed, I could hear the merchants in the high street as they began their trade, setting up boxes in their stalls and hosing down the walkways in front of their shops. The room smelled pleasantly stale. It smelled of Hugh and it smelled of Finn, and both scents had seeped into my pores, becoming one with mine. I hadn’t slept much, too disturbed by Hugh’s latest appearance. How could he…violate me in such a way? How could he violate us?

  The worst part had been my body’s reaction to him, to them. As much as I wanted to despise Hugh’s touch, I couldn’t. God help me, in the moment I’d wanted it just as much as I’d wanted Finn’s. I’d relished both embraces, feeling each man had claimed separate parts of me. I'd never felt so alive and yet so ashamed.

  And I’d never come with such brain-cracking force.

  Even now guilt made my gut churn because I wanted to feel it again.

  “I’m deranged,” I whispered to myself.

  Hearing me, Finn moved, but his arm remained tight around me in a possessive clamp. He opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze a
strange mixture of worry and intrigue. “How are you feeling?”

  “God, Finn. I wish I knew.” I pulled away from him, just a little, thinking he’d want to distance himself from me. “You must hate me.”

  He pulled me back into his arms, frowning, and then kissed me on the mouth. His hand smoothed over my hip, bringing me into stark realization of how right it felt to lay with him. “Am I acting as if I hate you?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Haven’t I? Margaret thinks I invited him into my life. That he came to me because on some level I wanted him, wanted this. But I don’t, Finn. I never could have imagined someone, something, like him.”

  He leaned in and touched his forehead to mine. I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, lingering on each one. “I know. And we’ll get past this.” When he looked at me again, the fiery glint in his eyes told of need and hunger. “I know what it is to lose you. And now, by some miracle, you’re back in my life. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you go again?”

  My lips twitched in a grin. “I hope not.”

  “No fucking way. And I certainly won’t lose you to some dead shithead. This isn’t fucking Wuthering Heights.”

  I couldn’t help giggling.

  My laughter ceased when Finn leaned over and grabbed his jeans from the floor. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a condom, unwrapping it and sheathing himself in quick order. Finn rolled me over, sliding easily between my legs. His weight comforted and excited me all at once. How I could get excited after last night, I wasn’t sure, but he still managed to make my lady parts flutter.

  He cupped my face and kissed me, his tongue staking a gentle claim. “In case my intentions weren’t clear last night, Lark, you’re mine. Do you understand me? Mine.”

  I understood. And when I urged him inside me, I hoped my intentions were clear as well.

  Chapter Ten

  “All right, everyone. Let’s take it from the Rex Tremendae.” Finn raised his baton and the chorus inhaled on a collective breath. He eyed the singers, eyes flashing, willing momentum into the thunderous first chord of the movement.

  The chorus responded, with a roof-lifting “Rex!”

  Wincing, Finn waved his arm and stopped them. “No, no, no. It’s all wrong.”

  I eyed him from my seat, gnawing my lip. He’d been edgy the whole rehearsal. None of the singers, no matter how prepared, could seem to please him today. I knew it was because of my situation. Neither of us knew what to do, and now that he’d been privy to Hugh’s follies, he’d assumed some of my stress.

  Maybe I should gently remind him he couldn’t take it out on the chorus.

  “I need less vibrato in the soprano line,” he stated. “Ladies, you’re warbling all over the place when you sing salva me. You’re asking God to save you. It’s a bloody prayer but you sound as if you’re shouting at a football match.”

  Ouch.

  “Oh, and baritones, is it too much to ask that you enunciate the ‘x’ in ‘Rex’ at the same time as everyone else? Keep. Your eyes. On me.” He inhaled and exhaled and raised his arm once more. “Now, again, from the top. And remember you’re singing Mozart, people, not your granny’s church hymns.”

  With nervous gazes pinned on their conductor, the chorus could barely sing the first note of the movement before Finn waved his hand again, silencing them.

  “Oh, come on, people. More oomph!” He looked down at his music and scribbled a few notes.

  Okay, it was time to put them all out of their misery. While he jotted down his notes, I took the opportunity to dash to the front “Um, Finn,” I whispered, not wanting to call him out in front of the others. “We’ve been going non-stop for a couple of hours. Maybe everyone could use a short break.”

  He looked at me through wide eyes and clapped his mouth shut, as if biting back a comment. He took another deep breath instead, and closed his eyes, clearly trying to compose himself. He smiled at the chorus. “Look, I know you’re all trying but this is bloody Requiem and we need to give it our best. I won’t allow anything less, and I will not perform this music unless you give it to me as it’s written. If there’s anyone who’s unhappy with my standards, the door’s over there. This is a professional organization. We need to sound like it.” He paused for effect. “Rehearsal’s over. Think about what I said. I want to see improvements at next rehearsal.” He ignored my presence at his side, glared at his manuscript paper, and scratched out a few more notes.

  I noted the muttered complaints as the ensemble members put their things away and filed out of the music room. When everyone was out of the room, I put a hand on Finn’s arm, speaking in a soft voice. “Hey.”

  He glared at me. “I suppose you think I was too hard on them.”

  “Well, they are professionals and no one wants to be called substandard.”

  “Professionals or not, it’s my job to be hard on them. Individually, they might all be great singers but it’s my role to make them a tight ensemble. They’ll just have to learn to take my criticisms. This isn’t a nursery school and I’m not here to coddle them.” He ended his tirade on a loud exhalation of breath. His face crumpled into a mask of concern. “Fuck, you look so tired, Lark. I’m sorry. I’m being an arse. I just…can’t stop thinking about what happened. Of him…touching you.”

  He enfolded me in his arms and I squeezed him in my own tight embrace. “I never should have brought you into this mess.”

  He cupped my cheek, slowly stroking it as if grateful for its softness. Lowering his head, he claimed my lips in a reverent kiss. I thrilled inside. Yes. As much as Hugh’s strange caresses stimulated my body, Finn touched me the way I wanted to be touched. With ardor and respect and passion. Hugh might titillate my body, but Finn owned my heart.

  “Your mess is my mess. I’m not going anywhere, Renata. And we’ll get through this.”

  “What if he…appears like that again?”

  His jaw ticked. “I’d like to see the fucker try.” He shook his head, and I knew he was banishing thoughts of violence. “You and I are going to see your friend Margaret this evening. Together. I want to know everything about this bastard Hugh, and then we’re going to fight him.”

  In Finn’s arms, I could almost believe we had a chance.

  »»•««

  I called Margaret and set up a time to meet her after dinner. Finn and I sat quietly in his room at the inn that afternoon. While he responded to a list of emails that made my head spin, I read more from Hugh’s journal.

  I had a hard time believing the gentle man from the entries could have become my incubus. How could this romantic figure turn into a demon set on sexual possession?

  I prayed something, anything, in the journals would cast a light on the mystery.

  July 15, 1820

  Oh, how I yearn to express my love for Claudia. Yes, I have expressed my esteem time and again, but I have never told her I love her, not even during our quiet meetings in St. Bartholomew’s. Each time I try to enunciate the words, I hear my father’s voice in my head.

  “You will not wed that slut.”

  “Father, I will not have you compare her to a common whore.”

  “The comparison makes itself, sir. You know as well as I do no woman of quality takes to the stage. You would do far better to marry a woman of good breeding.”

  Good breeding. Is this what I have sought under other women’s skirts? Certainly Claudia has exemplified better breeding than the fillies in my circles.

  I love her. Despite what others think of her reputation, I will not be her ruin. And so, although I have never expressed my love in word, hopefully she will see my gaze tells her over and over.

  July 16, 1820

  Every time I attend the opera, I see him. Ignazio Malanotte, my Claudia’s tormentor. Even from my box, I can see him, tittering with Lady Katherine, poking fun at Claudia like a pair of vicious school children.

  They were there again tonight,
laughing and causing a ruckus during her solos. My sweet soprano held her head high and sang like an angel, despite their provocation. But after the performance, I glimpsed the worry in her quivering lips. I smelled her fear under the greasepaint. And when I turned my back to allow her some privacy in her dressing room, I heard her cry from behind the closed door.

  I know I will kill Malanotte one day. And it will be my distinct pleasure.

  July 25, 1820

  I have determined to host a masked ball. Even father and his foul moods will not dissuade me. As much as he thrusts Katherine Mortimer in my direction, I already know Claudia is my destiny. Her shy smiles tell me she agrees.

  I shall ask for her hand at the ball.

  I have already made arrangements with the dressmaker in town and plan to surprise Claudia with a splendid gown ornamented with pearls and beads. I know in sending her the ensemble as a gift, I am taking an enormous step in our courtship. A proper proposal will follow. I cannot live without her and am convinced my feelings are reciprocated.

  She will be my wife.

  The devil can take Katherine Mortimer and do as he pleases with her.

  August 17, 1820

  The last three weeks have been hellish. Every moment I’ve spent away from Claudia has felt like time spent separated from my own right hand. Of course, we’ve met, in the theater and at St. Bartholomew’s, but I long to install her in my home as my wife. Every time the demands of the estate plague, I am reminded of how much I want to make her lady of the manor. Our meetings have remained chaste, aside from the odd touch of a hand. I refuse to smear her name, and especially not when others have sought to do so.

  It was during one of our meetings at the church that Claudia thanked me for her gown. It was all worth the effort when I saw gleam of gratitude in her eyes. Ah, yes, she protested as any lady would. She claimed it was far too grand a gift but I would hear nothing of her objections.