Provocative in Pearls (28 page)

He turned away, and fingered a paper on the writing table. He lifted a pen and bent to jot something. “You are referring to Thompson, I assume.”

“Yes, I am referring to him. Word just came.”

“So that was the horse I heard outside. Has he raised the hue and cry?”

“Nancy sent a messenger to me.”

“One wonders what she expects you to do. I trust that you sent back word that you are sure there is more to the tale than she shared with you.” He set down the pen.

Very curious now, Verity stepped into the chamber. “If there is a tale about Bertram, I want to hear it.”

Colleen glared at Hawkeswell. “Please tell her to leave. I need to speak to
you
.”

“Say what you want. She will learn of it anyway.”

“Hawkeswell—”

“If she wants to stay, she stays. She has far more right to be here than you do.”

Colleen’s face fell at the rebuke. She found composure, and addressed him as if Verity had not chosen to stay at all.

“Is it true? Did you thrash Mr. Thompson?”

“I did.”

“Hawkeswell!” She paced, astonished and agitated. “Dear heavens, I thought that you no longer—Had you been drinking?”

“I was stone sober.”

“Then why?”

“That is between him and me. I do not blame you for introducing me to the man, Colleen, but he is a scoundrel. I’ll not have anything to do with him in the future, aside from the necessary contact regarding Verity’s estate.”

“Blame me? How could you even consider blaming me?”

“I said that I do not. However, much has transpired from that introduction that has not been good. I do not believe you knew his true character.”

“Whatever you think of him, your behavior was inexcusable.”

“I had one of the best excuses in the world. If Mr. and Mrs. Thompson want the world to know, we will air it publicly. I promise you, however, that no decent man would favor Bertram in the argument.”

“Are you at least going to tell
me
the cause of the argument?”

He glanced at Verity. “No, I am not.”

Colleen noticed the glance. Her mouth pursed. “I
see
. Forgive me. My worry that you had reverted to your old ways made me react too strongly. Good night.”

She rushed past Verity, her face flushed and eyes burning. Verity closed the door behind her.

“You thrashed Bertram?”

He shrugged. “Odd that Mrs. Thompson sent a rider to Colleen. Perhaps she expected my cousin to call me out on it.” He smiled at his own little joke.

“She did not send that rider to ask Colleen to upbraid you. She sent a message begging Colleen to try and mend the rift.”

“I humiliated her husband. I doubt she wants any mending.”

“Nancy is ambitious. She would sacrifice Bertram to hold on to the connections this marriage gave her.” She walked over to him. “Since everything about my cousin and you also involves me, are you going to tell me why your anger got the better of you?”

“Let us just say that I lost my temper with good cause.” He set about folding the letter he had been writing.

She took the letter from his hands, and set it down again. She guessed he was not proud of allowing fury to rule him again, but he did not appear apologetic about it either.

“Did you do it because of what I told you this afternoon?”

He gazed down at her, and brushed strands of hair away from her face with his fingertips. “He did not deny it. Nor his wife. I could not thrash her, of course.”

“Of course.”

Still that tender, light touch. His voice was quiet now, and thoughtful. “I imagined you in that house, fearful and unhappy, and that woman—I only hope that you will not be even more afraid of me because of it.”

She pressed his hand against her cheek, then turned her face to kiss his palm. “I am not afraid now. I will not be in the future either.” She was astonished that it mattered to him how she felt. She kissed his palm again. “It may be wrong of me, but I am moved that you were so angry on my behalf, and bothered to confront him at all.”

There had been no such protection since her father died, and it touched her deeply.

He circled her waist with his hands. His gaze deepened until it entrapped her. So seriously he looked at her. So thoughtfully. As if he sought much more in her than would ever be found.

“You were indeed forced into this marriage, as you said. You were well broken before he made the threats against Katy and her son.”

She should feel vindicated, she supposed. Or relieved that he believed her completely now. Instead his deep thoughtfulness troubled her.

“Bertram said I had not cared then,” he said. “He believed that meant that I should not care now. That was his defense of his misuse of you.”

How foolish of Bertram, to provoke Hawkeswell that way. Had he and Nancy not seen the fire burning?

“He was correct,” Hawkeswell went on. “As were you, in your accusations in Cumberworth and Essex. My thoughts were on your fortune, not your happiness. I assumed, in my conceit, that of course you were willing.” He kissed her on her forehead. “I have done you great harm.”

“You cannot be blamed for what you did not know.”

“I did not know then, but I knew when I seduced you in Surrey—or I strongly suspected. But I did not bind you to me in that garden that night because of your fortune, Verity. If that was all that was at stake, I might have acted differently.”

“Then why?”

“You. I wanted you. I desired you. Two years ago you were a meek, quiet girl. But the woman who faced me down in Cumberworth—she raised the devil in me, and I knew how it was going to be. It is the oldest male reason in the world, and no excuse . . .”

She considered its weight and cost while she fingered the edge of his shirt’s gap near his neck. Being desired by Hawkeswell had never been as lacking in significance as he thought. Both excitement and pleasure had played big roles in where they now stood. He had seduced her, but she had not refused to be seduced. Even now, in his arms, having this conversation that was long overdue, his hold affected her in so many ways.

Desire, intimacy, comfort, protection—they were all expressed in the calm way his strong hands grasped and supported her, and in the thrills and ecstasy that he gave her too.

“What is done is done,” she said, too aware that she accepted him with those words in a manner that she had avoided before. She experienced no regret in doing so. Instead, the acceptance released a surge of joy. “There are worse rocks on which to build a marriage than fortune and pleasure.” She playfully tugged at his shirt. “Since I have provided the fortune, I trust that you will take responsibility for the pleasure.”

He laughed, and it made her happy to see his humor lighten. “If you continue to cooperate.”

“Already you seek to shirk that responsibility and leave the duty to me. It is for you to ensure that I
want
to cooperate, Hawkeswell.”

She turned to go on that saucy note. After she took two steps his arms imprisoned her and he warmed her back. His kiss scalded her neck.

“You cannot throw down a gauntlet like that and expect me to let you walk away from the duel, Verity.” His caresses skimmed her body. “I think that the less I permit your cooperation, the more you will want it, considering your rebellious nature.”

“I do not see how you can forbid it.”

“Don’t you?” His voice warmed her ear. His hands cupped under her breasts. His thumbs rubbed her nipples through the cloth of her undressing gown.

She began to understand then how he could prevent her cooperation. She could not embrace him while he stood behind her. She could only take the pleasure while standing on weakening legs. The sensations sank low in her body fast in this position.

She reached behind her, to hold him too, to touch him.

“Ah, ah,” he scolded. “No flanking maneuvers. I will have to find a way to stop that. This may work.” He plucked at the ribbons that bound the neck and front of her gown. His hand pulled at the bows’ ends one by one and the gown gaped more with each one’s demise.

He eased the gown off her shoulders and down her arms until the fabric hung from her hips. The sleeves’ cuffs meant it did not fall off completely, however. She tried to reach one with her other hand but the fabric confounded her.

“It appears that you cannot move much,” he said. “You will just have to take it.”

Take it
meant accepting his caresses passively while they stood there. His kisses pressed the flesh of her shoulders and neck. She watched while his handsome hands teased her breasts to unbearable sensitivity. Arrow after arrow of maddening excitement shot down but she could not even relieve the thrumming need with movement.

He scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and rolled her over, so her face pressed a pillow and the cuffs imprisoned her even more.

He stretched beside her, resting on one elbow, facing her. With slow care he raised the hem and skirt of the gown, and folded it at her waist until she was naked above and below a thick belt of fabric.

His gaze drifted down her body. Slowly, almost languidly, he bent to kiss her back. Each kiss was a little pleasurable shock. She closed her eyes and wondered how something so small could affect her so profoundly.

The kisses reached the small of her back and stopped. She opened her eyes to see him regarding her again. He slowly skimmed her back with his fingertips, but did not stop at the gown this time. Instead that light caress slid over her bottom and to her thigh and played there like a feather, torturing her.

“You appear unbearably erotic like this,” he said, watching his hand move again. His palm smoothed over the curves of her bottom. Trembles of anticipation shivered deliciously. She was almost painfully aroused, and they really had not done anything much.

His caress dipped down, between her thighs. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes and waited. He let her wait until she was half-mad, then touched surely, perfectly, and her breath caught again.

“You are ready. So quickly.” He slowly stroked again and her whole body trembled. “Should I take you now? While you lie there so ready? Or have I ensured that you want to cooperate, as you instructed?”

She did not understand. She looked at him, confused.

“Cooperating does not only mean accepting or submitting to pleasure, Verity.” He played with the buttons on the cuff on her wrist near his hip. “Cooperating means giving and sharing too. Have I ensured you want to?”

Had he? This
was
erotic. The passivity that he had forced excited her. He invited her to something else now, however. Something more, perhaps.

“You are the one who bound me like this, so I could only submit or accept.”

“The sleeve is loose now. You can free yourself. Or not.” He fell on his back and unfastened his own cuffs. “In a few minutes the choice will not be yours. Seeing you there, waiting and ready, I am thinking that cooperation can wait for another night.”

She decided it would be submission that would wait. She pulled her arm out of the sleeve and sat up. She made quick work of the other cuff too, and fought her way out of the volumes of fabric.

Hawkeswell had shed his clothes by the time she cast the undressing gown away. He reached for her, pulled her on top of him, and held her to the first real kiss of the night.

Sharing, he had said. Cooperation. She knew that he liked when she kissed him. She made sure this kiss went both ways.

She looked down at him afterward. “I am not very experienced. My cooperation may disappoint.”

“It has not so far. Nor do I think it ever could.”

She moved her knees forward while she knelt. She sat back on his thighs. Blue eyes alight with humor and sensual challenge dared her to be bold.

She set her hands on his shoulders, then watched their paths as she slowly stroked down his chest. She splayed her fingers and caressed back up, fascinated by the firm muscles under the soft velvet.

This would not be so difficult, she realized. She had only to do what he did, adapting for the obvious differences. Bracing on hands and knees, she kissed him, then moved her mouth lower, to his neck and finally to his chest.

Feeling very bold now, she kissed and tasted. A sweet emotion stirred in her while she did. Caring. She wanted to give him joy, not just pleasure. She wanted him to feel how she was grateful for his caring too.

The intimacy moved her in ways she had not expected. She did not know how to contain it. Kissing him, touching him, she could not run from it or put it away. Emotion filled her heart and drenched her and she could only press her lips to his skin again and again to release it.

She sat back again and looked at him while she caressed. At his mussed dark hair and wonderful blue eyes. At the fire in him as he gazed back. She had accepted this marriage, and pleasure and fortune would be its foundations, but much more was inside her.

Still, the pleasure and fortune mattered to him. And to her. She moved her gaze to his phallus, rising between them. She then glanced back at his face. His eyes and vague smile carried a challenge.

She touched the tip, and knew at once what to do. She ran her fingers down its length.

His head leaned back and he closed his eyes. Jaw tight and face hard with control, he accepted the pleasure while she caressed and rubbed and learned what pleased him. Her discoveries fascinated her.

Suddenly he reached for her. Eyes hot and teeth bared, he lifted her forward and lowered her.

She held him so they joined, then let him fill her.

She adjusted her seat. “It feels different.” Deeper, was what she meant. “I may like cooperation.”

He smiled. “It is for me to make sure you do. Remember?” He stretched his arms toward her body and circled her nipples with his fingers. Down where she sat, a silent physical hum began in the flesh that surrounded him. The more he caressed, the worse it got. The lighter his touch, the more intense the sensation.