Tempting a Devil (16 page)

“I didn’t think about them,” she told him truthfully. “I was just grateful you were able to do it without a great fuss.”

He hugged her to him with a throaty laugh and then kissed her, his mouth still smiling. She was becoming addicted to his kisses. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of tenderness, still crinkled at the corners with amusement. Without thinking, she leaned forward and dipped the tip of her tongue into his dimple. He sucked in a breath. “I never cared for those,” he said. “Makes me appear too feminine.”

Harry burst out laughing. “Roger, you couldn’t appear feminine if you borrowed my dress.”

“I want to taste you,” he said, looking directly at her. “May I?”

She was confused. “You mean, kiss me?”

He nodded. “Yes.” Then he pushed her dress down to rest beneath her breasts. He placed the tip of his finger on one chemise-covered peak. “Here.”

Harry positively quivered at the very idea. Very gently Roger tugged the note from between her breasts. “Oh, no, Roger,” she begged. “After, please.” She knew this interlude would be over if he read the note now.

His lips quirked in a half smile as he turned and set it down on the table behind
him. He turned back to her and continued to undress her. Her chemise wouldn’t fold down easily over her breasts to rest with her dress. Her corset was in the way. So Roger untied it as well and loosened it just enough to get the chemise out of the way. The whole procedure was rather cool and unexciting. It helped a little, actually, with her embarrassment. She’d bared her breasts before, but somehow this was more intimate than those other times. This time she wanted to, she wanted Roger to see them and admire them. Many men had wanted to admire them, they’d told her so, but never had the idea excited her.

They were larger after having a baby. They’d been large since she was fourteen, but now they were almost an embarrassment. But she knew Roger liked them. He was staring at them intently, and then he rubbed his thumb along the bottom curve of her left breast and she jerked at the touch. He didn’t pull his hand away.

“Are you all right?” he asked, never taking his eyes from her breasts.

“Yes,” she replied, surprised at how breathless she was again. “Just startled.”

“I’m going to learn them,” he said. “I’m going to touch them, and kiss them and”—he paused and took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down—“and I will learn everything about them, everything that you like. Is that all right?”

She could hardly speak it was so very all right. “Yes,” was all she said, but she could tell by the little smile he wore that he understood what she meant.

He did exactly as he’d told her he would. First he cupped and squeezed them, tracing the blue veins that ran below her pale skin. When he kissed the top curve of one breast, she sighed at how sweet and tender it was. Moments later she was gasping as he ran his tongue around the now hard peak, teasing it.

“You like that better, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said, although, again, she didn’t need to. He hadn’t really been asking, he knew. Then he placed his mouth over the entire tip and sucked. After just a few minutes of his hot, wet mouth wrapped around the hard point, Harry was mortifyingly close to climax.

Roger took his mouth away and she moaned. She tightened her legs around the heavy thigh between them, acting the wanton and not caring one whit. “Shall I go on?” Roger asked in a husky voice.

“This was supposed to be a demonstration of how to admire your chest,” she panted. “I wanted to do these things to you.”

Roger chuckled as he petted her breast. “Perhaps another day.”

“Perhaps,” she said, torn between wanting to do them to him and wanting him to do them to her. Roger moved his leg, rubbing his thigh against her sex, and she moaned again.

“I love to hear you do that,” he confessed.

“You have a very wicked thigh, Mr. Templeton,” she murmured breathlessly.

He kissed her then, and dragged her close so her breasts were pressed to his hard chest, skin to skin. She couldn’t catch her breath. It was everything she’d imagined it would be. Then he rubbed against her, the hair on his chest abrading her breasts perfectly, his leg moving against her again, and Harry was lost. She climaxed, her hand wrapped around the back of his head to hold his mouth on hers while she pressed against his hard thigh.

When it was over, she collapsed against the sofa and Roger placed small, light
kisses across her chest and neck and face. Before long, she was breathing normally again.

“Why?” she asked, running her fingers through his sinfully soft chest hair.

“Because that was easier on me than allowing you to admire my chest,” he answered wryly. “A man only has so much willpower, Harry. I’m afraid you’ve already used up mine.”

Chapter Fourteen

Roger opened the note to read it while Harry finished arranging her hair. He’d helped her straighten her clothes, which had presented more temptation. His hands were shaking. She stood behind him so she couldn’t see that he was still affected by their interlude on the sofa. He had been so close to tossing aside his principles, scruples be damned, and taking her. Even now, if she touched him or ran her hands over his chest again he’d do it. He clenched his hands into fists, unwittingly wrinkling the note with a crackle of the paper.

“Oh, did we tear it?” Harry asked, walking toward him.

He quickly straightened the crumpled paper. “No, just wrinkled it a bit.”

By certain actions you’ve proven a whore and unfit for the company of your betters. If you don’t stop this wanton behavior, you’ll lose your standing in society and the boy. Be warned. More lewdness and public displays of a base nature won’t be tolerated. My plans have not changed concerning you—

“What plans?” Roger asked sharply.

Harry was leaning over his shoulder, reading along with him. At his question she jerked away, taking two steps back. “I don’t know,” she answered quickly, her eyes wide.

Roger stood and began to pace the room. It was that last line that worried him. Clearly this was from the kidnapper, or the person behind the kidnapping. The writing and the language indicated an educated person. Someone who knew what Harry had been up to, had even witnessed it, perhaps? This seemed more personal than just a reaction to
recent gossip in the newssheets. They mentioned Mercy again. She’d lose the boy, it said. Because this person was going to try to take him again? Or because they planned to harm Harry? Harry was the focus here, not Mercy.

There was a knock at the door, startling Roger. He faced the door instinctively, as if preparing for an attack.

“I rang for refreshments while you were pacing,” Harry explained before calling out. “Enter!”

Mandrake opened the door for the housekeeper, who was followed by a footman wheeling in a tea tray. Sitting on top was a neatly folded shirt. Roger blushed scarlet as he glanced down at his still bare chest. He walked quickly to the cart and grabbed the shirt. “Thank you,” he mumbled, unable to meet Mandrake’s eyes. The man must know what he and Harry had gotten up to in here. The thought made him frown. The servants should be more protective of Harry. They were the first defense here in her home.

“Who delivered this note?” he demanded of the butler and the housekeeper. He had shrugged the shirt over his head, but hadn’t tied it closed yet. He held out the note, crumpled in his fist once again.

“A messenger, sir,” Mandrake answered. “He wore no livery. Most likely a street urchin.”

“He gave you no indication who sent the note?” Roger asked.

“No, sir,” Mandrake answered. “I did inquire, and he said only that a gentleman paid him to deliver the note.”

Roger’s frown was fierce, he could feel it pulling down the corners of his mouth. “If another note is delivered, you must demand the name of the sender. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mandrake said with a slight bow of his head. “This boy was different from the others. Each time it has been a different messenger.”

As Mandrake was speaking, Harry put the teapot down with a thud and partially rose from where she’d taken a seat on the sofa. Roger looked at her incredulously. “This isn’t the first note?” he asked her, his manner harsh. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

She looked guilty, her eyes shifting left and right, not meeting his. “I wasn’t concerned about the others. At first I assumed they were delivered to the wrong person. Then they became more personal, as if they knew me. This is the first one that seemed so threatening.”

“Dammit, Harry!” Roger burst out in anger.

“Are we dismissed, sir?” Mandrake interrupted. The housekeeper was looking at Roger with wide, frightened eyes.

“Yes,” Roger ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry was glaring at Mandrake. “You are free to leave at my discretion, Mandrake, not Mr. Templeton’s.”

“Of course, madam,” the butler said, immediately standing tall, with his hands clasped behind his back, staring straight ahead.

“You wish to have this conversation in front of witnesses?” Roger asked. “Fine. Clearly this note concerns you and I and our affair.”

Harry paled. “You are dismissed, Mandrake, Mrs. Dempsey.”

“Yes, madam.” The housekeeper bustled out ahead of the butler, who closed the door firmly behind him.

“Really, Roger, there’s no need to embarrass the staff.”

Roger had to take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking. “I don’t give a damn about the staff. Why didn’t you tell me about the earlier notes?”

“Well, really, Roger,” she said with a great deal of annoyance. “It isn’t as if we were confidantes until just two days ago. Forgive me if I wasn’t thinking about those silly notes once you’d finally agreed to be my lover.”

Roger had to take another deep breath. This time it was to swallow the guilt that left a bad taste in his mouth. “You could have told me, Harry. You know that. We were still friends, even before we became lovers.”

“Can we actually call ourselves lovers if we don’t copulate?” she asked with a curious, thoughtful look. “Perhaps we should say paramours. More than mere acquaintances? Friends who desire one another?”

Roger was taken aback at her change of topic. “Of course we’re lovers. A love affair isn’t only about the bedding.”

“It isn’t?” she asked in genuine surprise. “What is it about, then?”

His mind went blank for a moment. With all his other lovers, it had been only about the bedding. But with Harry, there was so much more. “It’s about our shared past, pleasant company, engaging conversation … that sort of thing.”

“That sounds like a supper party, not a love affair.”

He snorted in impatience. “Fine, then it’s about the wanting. The wanting is the best part, Harry. I want you every minute of every day. I dream of the things I’m going to do to you. And having sworn off bedding you, I’m planning on being very creative.” She looked shocked at his admission. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m
sorry. I’ve shocked you. Honestly, you make me sound like a madman sometimes. That’s what the wanting does. I can’t think straight!” he burst out, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“You can’t think straight because you want me so much?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Yes, dammit,” he admitted with no little annoyance.

“Then why aren’t you going to take me?” Her question sounded innocent, but the look on her face was anything but. She was teasing him mercilessly.

“Be careful what you ask for, miss, or you just might get more than you bargained for,” he threatened with a warning glare. She just giggled, and he found it charming. It was a sound that transported him back in time, to those idyllic days of his youth, before money and station and social obligation became a concern for him. When all that mattered was running after that little nuisance Harry Stanley, trying to make her leave him alone. He grinned at her then, his anger dissipating like fog on a sunny morning.

“I want you, too,” she whispered, as if it was a great secret. “And the wanting is utterly delicious, just like you.” She hugged herself and giggled again. “I’ve never felt like this over a man.” Her look turned thoughtful for a second or two. “I suppose I felt that way about you when we were young, the way a young girl fancies a boy, wanting to be with him, and catch his attention.” She assessed him from head to toe, her expression warming considerably as her cheeks flushed. “And I still want your attention.”

“You have it,” he told her in all seriousness. “You have my attention in every way.”

“Are you hungry?”

Roger shook his head, once again thrown off track by her change of topic. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you were hungry yesterday after we …” She tipped her head toward the wall next to the parlor door and waggled her eyebrows.

For some reason, Roger found her reluctance to put into words the passionate encounter they’d had yesterday amusing and he laughed at her. “After I used my creativity to bring you a great deal of sexual pleasure?” he offered helpfully.

She blushed profusely. “Yes, that,” she said primly. She set a plate with some biscuits and cake down on the table. “Today you can feed yourself.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “My performance today must have been lacking if I’m forced to feed sweet treats to myself.”

“Practice makes perfect, they say,” she advised him wisely. “I believe if you try several times a day, you might improve your performance.”

Roger laughed again and sat down next to her, grabbing the little plate before leaning back on the comfortable sofa. “Several times, eh?” he asked, biting into a biscuit. “You’ll work me to death. You’re an exhausting lover.”

“Am I really?” she asked with unadulterated delight. She leaned back next to him, and then resettled herself so she was shoulder to shoulder with him. Then she took his plate and offered him a bite of cake from her fingers. “For that remark, I’ll feed you.”

Roger let her distract him from the note with cake and silly love talk. After all, he was supposed to be giving her a romance. It was required of him, really. He licked her fingers clean in martyred silence. Finally, with a sigh, he sat up and grabbed the note from the table, folding it carefully. “I’m going to take this to Hil. Bring me the others and
I’ll take those as well.”