How to Woo a Reluctant Lady (22 page)

But Hetty wasn’t so sure she wanted the bastard son of a whore in the family. Then again, Celia didn’t seem to like Mr. Pinter, so perhaps she was worrying for naught.

“Are you coming or not?” Oliver roared from down the hall.

“We’re coming!” Hetty called out.

She would have to decide what to do about Mr. Pinter later.

Minerva gaped at Giles. Surely she’d misheard him. “What?”

“Your clothes. Take them off.” His eyes shone with promise as he shed his coat and waistcoat, then tossed them down on the blanket. “You can swim in your shift and drawers. They would dry in no time.”

“But my hair—”

“Stuff it up beneath that cap of yours afterward, and no one will be the wiser.”

Heat rose in her cheeks as he removed his boots, then his trousers and stockings. This was a bit more than she’d bargained for.

Then again, the idea of stripping down to her shift, of being in a pond in the outdoors, half-naked, gave her delightful shivers. How did he always manage to find the one thing that would make her
want
to be wicked?

Especially when he yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the blanket. My oh my oh my. She’d seen her brother’s bare chests by accident a time or two, so she knew how a man’s chest was supposed to look, but a shirtless Giles was a wonder to behold. He had the most glorious muscles, covered with a sprinkling of brown curls that narrowed to a line down his belly, disappearing beneath his drawers.

His prominently bulging drawers.

She jerked her gaze up to find him looking her over, too, as if imagining her undressed. “I’d do almost anything to see you in your shift, darling. Hell, I’d do almost anything just to see your hair unbound.”

He made her feel like a wanton. It was a feeling she rather enjoyed. “You mean, like this?” she said and removed her bonnet and cap, then took her pins out one by one and dropped them into her bonnet.

His eyes darkened to slate as her hair tumbled down about her shoulders. “God, it’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

He strode up to fill his hands with her hair, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I’ve been waiting to see your hair like this for six years, ever since that house party at our estate in Berkshire. Do you remember? The one you attended with your brothers?”

Her pulse leapt. “I’m surprised that
you
remember.”

Looping her hair over one shoulder, he turned her around so he could work loose the fastenings of her gown. “I can’t forget,” he admitted. “The first night we were there, you wore an elegant dinner dress that was cut low enough to bring any man to his knees.”

He pulled her gown down until it fell into a puddle of muslin at her feet, then dispensed with her single petticoat. “Your hair was put up, but you had one long sausage curl draped just here.” He trailed his fingers down the front of her from shoulder to corset, making her blood heat. “I had this fanciful notion that if I just pulled it, your entire coiffure would unravel like a skein of yarn, and I’d finally see you with your hair down.”

For a moment, the thrum of need in his voice seduced her. Then memory returned. She pivoted to face him. “Your fascination with my hair didn’t last long. That very evening you disappeared with a widow, and we didn’t see you for the
rest of the visit.”

He blinked. “That’s only because—” A look of chagrin crossed his face.

“Because what?” she asked coldly.

His lazy smile was decidedly false. “Because
you
weren’t available.”

That wasn’t what he’d been about to say. She was almost sure of it. With a skeptical expression, she turned away, but he caught her about the waist and pulled her close so he could work loose the ties of her corset. “Don’t you remember? That’s when that fool Winthrop was courting you. Never left your side the whole weekend.”

She’d completely forgot about Lord Winthrop, the man with five children who was determined to find a mother for them. “I thought I’d never get rid of him. He followed me everywhere like a lap dog.”

When Giles had finished removing her corset, she faced him once more. “But you know perfectly well that even if he
hadn’t
been around, you wouldn’t have made any attempt to be near me.”

“True,” he said. “You had a tendency to snap my head off in those days.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He was right.

“And you’re going to snap my head off in a minute, too,” he went on.

“Why?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “Because of this.” Without warning, he picked her up and headed for the pond.

“Giles Masters, don’t you dare!” she cried, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “I told you, I don’t know how to—”

He tossed her into the pond. She felt a moment’s panic as she went underwater, but it vanished when her leg hit the bottom
and she realized the water was only about four feet deep.

She rose out of the water to glare at him. He was standing calf-deep in the water and laughing heartily, the wretch.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” Walking toward him, she glanced at a spot behind him. “You’re not going to find it so amusing when that snake gets you.”

He turned his head, and she lunged forward to grab his calf and pull hard. He struggled to regain his balance, but it was no use—he couldn’t gain purchase on the slippery pond bottom. He slid right into the water at her feet.

He came up sputtering and laughing at the same time. “You’re going to pay for that, sweetiekins.”

With a grin, she backed into the pond. “What will you do? Drown me in four feet of water?”

His smile faded. “Actually, there’s a drop—”

She heard him dimly as she plunged under the water. But before she could even think to panic, he had her and was lifting her so her head was above water.

He pushed the hair from her face. “Thought you’d start the swimming lessons without me, did you?”

Though she could just touch the bottom with the tips of her toes, she clung to him. “I learn from doing.”

“Yes, well, you’d learn from drowning, too, but I don’t think sink or swim is the most effective way to learn.”

“So you
are
going to teach me?” she asked, though her heart was racing, both from her near mishap and the feel of his hands on her waist, holding her above the water.

“Whatever my lady wants,” he murmured, eyes gleaming.

For the next half hour, he showed her how to float, how not to panic in the water, how to propel herself through it. It was exhilarating—she’d never been afraid of the water, but neither had she ever been entirely comfortable in it. He made it seem
as if navigating it was nothing.

They were standing shoulder-deep in the pond when something slithered over her foot. She shrieked and grabbed onto his shoulders. “Something touched me!”

“It’s probably just a fish.” Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and the next thing she knew he was kissing her deeply, thoroughly, boldly. The “fish” was forgotten as she dug her fingers into his shoulders . . . his masterful shoulders, thick with muscle. She could hardly breathe—he was making her blood run too hot.

One of his arms encircled her waist, anchoring her to him. “Look what I’ve got,” he murmured against her lips. “A water nymph, out for a gambol.” His free hand fondled her breast, so sweetly, so softly.

“If I’m a water nymph,” she breathed, “then what are you?”

“The man who’s going to give the nymph whatever she wants.” He bent his head to tongue her nipple through her shift. “What do you want, sweet nymph? This?” He sucked her breast, making her gasp. “Or this?” His hand slid down to cup her bottom and pull her hard against him.

“I want you to . . . touch me the way you touched me in the inn,” she choked out.

His breath quickened. “Where?”

She hid her flaming face against his shoulder. “You know. Down there. I-in my drawers.”

With a chuckle, he slipped his hand around to the front of her and under her shift. She parted her legs to allow him access. As his hand found the tender place between her thighs, he bent her back over his arm so he could tease her breasts with his mouth.

“Yes,” she whispered. She grabbed at his shoulders to keep from falling back into the water as her eyes slid closed. “Like
that. Oh, Giles, you are very wicked.”

“So are you, my lady,” he murmured against her breasts. He fingered her devilishly, making her squirm. “A naughty nymph that a man could drown in.”

He slid a finger inside her, and her eyes shot open. “Are you sure you should be doing that?”

“Absolutely certain,” he growled, then slipped another finger inside her.

A shuddering breath escaped her. It felt too good to be believed, even better than when he’d cupped her there in the inn.

“Hook your legs around my waist,” he said in a guttural voice, “and hold on to my neck.”

It took her a moment to get the position right, but when she was situated as he’d ordered, she realized she was fully open to his hand, his clever hand that was exploring between her legs in a most exciting fashion.

Giving her deep, soul-searing kisses, he worked her with his fingers and thumb. The water eddied over and around his plunging fingers, as if conspiring with him to caress her. It lapped over her breasts, making her nipples tighten and her body feel fluid, part of the pond, part of
him.

And then she felt a tide inside her body, rising along her nerves, swamping her senses, making her want and ache and feel the most exquisite sensations. She tore her mouth from his, seeking breath, afraid of drowning. His hot gaze scorched her as she undulated against his fingers.

“That’s it, minx,” he rasped. “Ride my hand. Find your pleasure. Oh God, you’re so beautiful when you’re aroused.”

“Giles . . . please . . .”

“Whatever you want,” he whispered. “Take what you want. I give it to you gladly.”

The tide within her rose higher until she couldn’t distinguish
the water she was in from the water that was building to a flood inside her, threatening to overwhelm her. Then it crashed over her in a giant wave that had her gasping and crying out and tightening her legs convulsively about his waist.

She hung there on him, shaking, weak-kneed, feeling as boneless as the water itself. “Good Lord, Giles . . . my word . . . what was that?”

“You found your pleasure,” he murmured. “Women find pleasure in lovemaking just as men do.”

Well,
that
certainly explained a few things. Like why women would want to be naughty. And why every time he touched her, she disintegrated into a mass of roiling need.

Then something occurred to her. “Did you . . . find your pleasure?”

“Not yet.”

That’s when she realized that her privates were resting upon the very obvious bulge in his drawers. “Could I . . . do anything to help that?”

He gave a choked laugh. “You could touch my privates the way I touched yours. God, what I’d give to have you caress me with your hand.”

Would you give your heart?
The errant thought brought her up short. What was she thinking? Giles didn’t believe in hearts. He didn’t believe in love. He could only give her pleasure.

Still, he
had
done that, so the least she could do was give him the same.

“You mean, like this?” she asked, stroking along the hard length of him. Lord, but there was a lot of him there. Quite a lot more than she would have imagined.

“Yes, but harder,” he muttered. When she did as he bade, he gave a heartfelt groan. “Yes, like that. But put your hand inside
my drawers. Grab hold of me.”

It was a little awkward to do that with her legs still locked about his waist, so she let go and stood on the pond bottom.

When she dipped her hand inside his drawers to close her fingers around him, he released a shuddering gasp. “Yes, darling, that’s perfect. God save me. Pull on it, up and down . . . a little harder . . . yes . . . like that . . . more . . . more . . .”

Suddenly his flesh spasmed in her hand, and he threw back his head and crowed, “Oh, God, yes! Minerva . . . my nymph . . . my sweet, beautiful nymph . . .”

He took her mouth then, kissing her with a tenderness he’d rarely shown before. It touched something deep inside her and made her want to weep. This was the Giles she’d fallen in love with years ago—not the self-controlled, cynical man she now knew who kept secrets. Why could he only be the old Giles when they were doing this?

And which one was the real one?

“That was wonderful, minx.”

It had been wonderful for her, too. That was the trouble. “What now?” she asked.
What does this attraction between us mean? And does it end with this?

An odd, unreadable expression crossed his face as his eyes bore into hers. For a moment she was sure he knew exactly what she was asking.

Then he gave her a noncommittal smile. “Now I’m going to feed you.”

She let out a long breath. It was probably just as well that he didn’t answer her questions. She didn’t even know what she
wanted
to have happen. A secret affair? More of these dangerous adventures, knowing that in the end they ought to part?

Really, she shouldn’t marry him. Even if she was certain that
he wanted to, it wouldn’t work. He would never let her close enough to really know him. Nor did she want a life where she was nothing more than the ornament in his professional crown.

Still, when he unpacked the picnic basket, revealing several of her favorite foods, it was hard to believe it couldn’t work. He could be so sweet and considerate.

Except when he’s hiding things.

She sighed. Yes, that was the trouble.

They ate quickly, famished after their bout of swimming and . . . other things. When he lay back and pulled her down next to him to hold her in his arms, she couldn’t resist resting her head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“This is a very pretty spot for a picnic,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I never knew it was here.”

“We lads were careful to keep it a secret. Didn’t want a bunch of children spoiling our fun.”