A Hint of Seduction (31 page)

And she knew what it was.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t better news for you,” John said.

Catherine looked at John. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to feel. She wanted to be in his arms with his lips on hers, his hands on her body making her forget everything but his touch.

“Kiss me, John,” she said.

His gaze fluttered softly across her face. “Catherine, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. You’re emotional. You need to—”

She didn’t allow him to finish. She leaped onto the seat with him and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips to his.

Nineteen

H
E WAS HESITANT
and for a moment she thought he might push her away, but suddenly his arms circled her and he crushed her against his chest.

He accepted her kiss for a few moments and then he became the aggressor. It was as if lightning struck between them and flames of desire exploded all around them. They couldn’t kiss or touch each other fast enough, hard enough, or earnest enough.

As their breaths, mouths, and tongue mingled in desperate kisses, she whispered, “I know what I need.”

You.

But she didn’t know how to tell him that.

“Catherine, you know I can’t resist you,” he answered as his lips left hers and kissed their way down her neck to where the fullness of her breasts rose from beneath her dress.

Didn’t he know she wanted him to possess her?

“Then don’t.”

“I must,” he answered as he cupped her breasts, lifting them up and squeezing them gently as he moaned with pleasure.

His tongue searched her mouth, tasting her over and over again. Catherine trembled with a wanting she didn’t understand, but she knew she wanted to be in John’s embrace like this.

“I want to take you now and make you mine, but you know I can’t.”

Yes, she knew he was afraid she’d insist they marry if things went too far between them. Would he believe her if she told him she would never do that? She had such an intense desire to be this close to him that she would beg him not to stop if she had to.

His mouth stayed on hers as their tongues played together. Pleasurable sounds passed both their lips as he caressed her breasts and she ran her hands over his wide shoulders and through the back of his hair.

“I’m going to touch you, but don’t be afraid of what I’m doing, all right?” he whispered into her mouth.

“You don’t frighten me, John, you know that.”

“But I’ve never done this to you before. Just relax against the seat.”

How could she relax when she was coiled tight with unrequited passion for this man?

He leaned her back in the corner of the seat as he continued to kiss her lips, her cheeks, and her neck. His hand snaked down her hip and leg to the hem of her dress. He grasped the fabric in his hand and slowly slid it up, letting the tips of his fingers lightly caress her stocking-covered knee. When he made it to her thigh, he lingered, rubbing her soft skin gently back and forth and inching a little
higher each time until he made it up to her waist.

Catherine trembled. She thought she might scream with madness if he didn’t go faster.

She gasped with surprise not fear when he untied the drawstring of her drawers and parted them so that they fell away from her hips. Catherine felt as if her stomach were turning in on itself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered.

That never entered her mind.

“I know,” she managed to say between gusty breaths of pleasure.

Slowly his hand slipped softly, warmly down her bare stomach to her most womanly part. He covered her with his hand as if he were protecting her. It was warm, soothing. She didn’t know what he was doing, but it didn’t matter because the thrill of his touch set her body on fire.

Catherine didn’t know how or why, but she felt the need to lift her hips and press into his hand. She remained still even though she felt as if it were killing her to do so.

Her heart swelled with love for him that he could make her feel so good. She wanted to whisper those life-altering words to him, but she couldn’t.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“It feels so good it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s difficult to remain still.”

“Don’t try. Just move with the feeling, move with my hand.”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes and enjoy the way I’m going to make you feel.”

How could she feel any better than this?

She didn’t want to close her eyes. She wanted to look at him with all the love and desire she had for him.

“What are you going to do?”

“This.”

His fingers moved over her and her breaths suddenly became short and raspy. He stroked her pearl of desire in a soft, slow circular motion. The tingle was frantic. She had never felt anything so intense in her life. Her hips started moving with his hand. Faster. Harder.

The sensation built inside her so quickly her whole body suddenly exploded with sensation. She jerked and shivered as she cried out with pleasure. John covered her mouth in a searing kiss.

What she felt was too powerful to understand. His hand stopped and he cupped her. He held her tighter, softening the pressure on her lips, and on her core.

When the shuddering stopped, she gasped. She held him tighter for a wild moment thinking she could keep him forever in her arms. She wanted to ask him not to leave her. She wanted to ask him to marry her, but she knew she couldn’t do that.

She pushed away from him, suddenly heartsick that a man who could make her feel so sensational didn’t love only her.

John removed his hand from beneath her clothing and helped her pull down her skirts.

As her breathing calmed, she said, “I don’t know what you did to me, but I’ve never felt that intense before.”

He smiled. “Do you feel calmer and more relaxed?”

Satisfied but not content.

She nodded and asked, “Did you—did we—do what I think we did?”

He smiled as he readjusted himself in the seat and in his trousers. “No. You are still very much a virgin and I’m still
very much—ah.” He looked down at the bulge between his legs. “Let’s just say you needed an emotional release and I provided it.”

“Thank you.” She moistened her lips and added, “But what about you? Are you—?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

He laughed and gently pulled her into his strong arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and she buried her face into his neckcloth. He seemed to know just when she needed his strength. The meeting with Mr. Beechman had drained her, and it felt so wonderful to be held in John’s comforting arms.

She understood now how a woman could love a man so much she would trap him into marriage. But Catherine realized she loved John too much to do that to him.

“You’re not crying, are you?” he asked as he caressed her back and shoulders.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “Certainly not. I’m not going to cry, but I am sad about what happened to my father and that he and my mother never had a chance at happiness.”

“And how do you feel about your grandfather?”

“A man who admitted he wouldn’t let my mother marry his son, a grandfather who looked at me, and I’m sure recognized me, but wouldn’t acknowledge me? I don’t know.” She shook her head, and then said, “You do think he recognized me, don’t you?”

He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I don’t know, Catherine. Maybe. Maybe he’s too mixed up about the past to realize exactly who you are.”

“He did seem a little touched in the head at times, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“My mother must have been devastated when she heard my father had been killed.”

“I’m sure she was, but she married Patrick Reynolds and was happy, wasn’t she?”

“As far as I can remember; I was so young when she died.”

“You didn’t tell Mr. Beechman you thought you were his granddaughter. Why?”

“I realized when I was looking at him, listening to him, that I would receive no pleasure or pain from telling him. After all these months of wondering and wanting to know the truth, the only thing I feel is relief that I know what happened. Comfort knowing my father didn’t abandon me and my mother.”

“Then you have the answers you sought and you can get on with your life.”

She nodded, not even wanting to think about getting on with her life because that would mean without John in it. He now had no reason to continue to pursue her as she’d asked him to, but she couldn’t bear to think about that right now, not after what just happened between them.

“I think Mr. Beechman knows who I am, but he can’t admit it. I’m not sure he ever will.”

“Perhaps old age has destroyed his mind,” John offered.

“Or maybe he’s slowly going mad because of guilt.” She pondered both their comments for a moment before adding, “I’m going to come see him again and try to get to know him.”

John looked surprised. “Are you sure? His mind seemed a little unstable to me.”

“To me, too, but he is my grandfather. Maybe one day
I’ll have the strength to tell him that a part of his son still lives. Do you think that would help him or hurt him?”

His expression softened again. “I don’t know, Catherine, but I think it’s admirable you want him to know. And I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

The coach stopped and Catherine pushed out of John’s arms and straightened her dress.

“Thank you for all your help, John.”

His gaze held fast on hers. “You know I don’t want gratitude.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get out first and make sure no one is around. You wait here.”

John stepped out of the coach, but Catherine knew he was really stepping out of her life.

H
E
’
D NEVER DONE
that before. Pleasured a woman and not received satisfaction at the same time. But for the first time that he could remember, it hadn’t been important to him to be pleasured. He was only thinking of Catherine.

That was new for him, too.

John leaned back against the softness of the carriage bench and propped his booted feet on the opposite seat. He folded his arms behind his head and stared out the window.

Catherine was good at hiding it, but he knew her emotions had been running away with her. Sexual release was the most satisfying feeling there was. Not finding her father left her unfulfilled; he knew pleasing her that way would comfort her.

And it had.

He’d watched her face, heard her sounds of surprise, wonder, and pleasure. He knew it had been good for her and that made him feel so blasted good. And he’d left her pure, well almost, for her wedding night. He felt damn good about that, too.

A sharp pain stabbed through him. He didn’t like to think of Catherine marrying anyone. He didn’t even like the idea of another man kissing her. Oh, hell—who was he trying to fool? He didn’t even want anyone holding her hand when they were dancing.

So what was he doing allowing his friends to talk him into a race he didn’t want to ride in and risk losing the right to pursue her? Racing horses no longer held any desire for him. He was angry that he’d allowed himself to be talked into it. He wouldn’t give her up even if Westerland should somehow win.