The Charmer (19 page)

He removed his frock coat and laid it on the chair. “Later. After I have made love to you. Surely you know that is why I brought you here.”

chapter
19

H
e strolled around the chairs and leaned against the back of one with his arms folded over his chest. He reminded her of how he had looked that first night in Paris.
This is how it will be,
his expression said.
This is what will happen.

His aura of calm decision contrasted starkly with her own demeanor. Her heart had grown into a heavy weight whose deep pulse shook her body.

He looked so splendid with his dark hair mussed over his brow. Long lines angled from his broad shoulders to his hips. And those eyes. His gaze practically scorched.

Running away might be a good idea at that.

“You said only one kiss.”

“Only one kiss as payment of your debt. I would not enjoy it if you felt obligated about the rest.”

“There will not be any of ‘the rest.' ” She tried to adopt an authoritative tone, but it came out tremorously.

“If you are determined, that is how it will be. I am hardly going to force you.”

He pushed off from the chair and came to her until he stood just inches away. His masculinity assaulted her like a force, pinning her against the window. A primitive response inside her reveled in the power he projected. Sensual expectation fluttered through her body.

He gently took hold of her shoulders with firm, exploring caresses. She shuddered from the warm pressure of those splaying fingers. So appealing. So unnerving.

He tilted his head to see her face. “You are afraid.”

“I am not.” But she was afraid. Afraid of that kiss and where it might lead. Frightened of the vulnerability that the passion would create. Fearful of discovering that this was just a more dishonorable way of manipulating her.

“You still worry that I only want you as a way to gain something else.”

He possessed a second sight tonight. “You do seek a way to gain something else. Do not deny it.”

“You would prefer it if I did, but I told you it would not be that way with us.” He eyed her bonnet for pins, and pulled them out. “That hiding place is denied you. I could have gone and fetched those letters once you told me about them. Now you can destroy them. You can even write others, directing us to vote for reform, before you leave on that ship.”

He lifted off the bonnet and set it aside. Night air from the window cooled her head. She felt that she had just been deprived of an essential piece of armor.

He tilted her chin up with one finger. “What happens here has nothing to do with controlling Everdon's power, nor will I ever speak to you about those damn votes again. This is only about you and me.”

“I think it best if you do not do this.”

“If I do not do it now, I may never get to.”

“I do not know why you persist in this.”

“Yes, you do. That is what really frightens you.”

He stretched his fingers into her hair along her nape. He guided her head toward him. “I will have that kiss now.”

It was a kiss of a lifetime, full of slowly ascending demand. Deliberate and determined and merciless. She did not begin to know how to defend against what it did to her. Cradling her head, arching her into his embrace, he turned that “one kiss” into a long exploration of arousal that left her alight with shivery, spiraling sensations. The loneliness groaned with gratitude that he possessed the skill to make capitulation almost inevitable.

He ended it with a tender bite on her lower lip. Caressing her face, he looked down at her. “Another? I must warn you that it is the last time I will ask. After this you are on your own to express your will.”

Decision time. She knew what she risked. She would be giving this man the power to use her and hurt her as none other had. The disillusionments of her youth could one day pale in light of what might await her with him. But maybe he was right. She had been running and hiding from that danger for too long.

She neither agreed nor disagreed. His mouth suddenly fascinated her. Maybe one more. She reached up and grazed her fingertips along his lips.

He clutched her hand and held it there, kissing her palm and inner wrist.

His tight expression enthralled and dismayed her. His reaction to her gesture left her light-headed and confused. He pulled her back to him and the river of her emotions flowed with renewed turbulence.

He had lied.

He had said that he had no ulterior motive for seducing her, but he did. He had implied that they would share one night before she left for France, but he had no intention of bringing her to that ship for its dawn sailing.

He planned to bind her to England. Not because of Everdon or the promise of a Treasury position. He would do it for the simple reason that he could not let her go, and wanted much more than one night.

She felt so good in his arms. Soft and feminine and trembling with her touching hesitation. He kissed her again until the last of the stiff caution melted, caressing through the black gown and rigid stays, seeking the curves of her body. Angling his head, he tasted the sweet skin of her neck. The shortening rasp of her breath flurried against his ear, a melody of desire that instantly drowned out his own inner chant that exhorted control.

The hunger that had been building for weeks suddenly roared for release. He barely suppressed the urge to take her at once against the wall. Pulling her tightly so he could feel her along his length, he kissed her again with a devouring mouth as impatience overwhelmed him.

Her arms slid around his body in a shy embrace. Her tongue darted in play with his, but retreated at his demanding reaction. Both responses possessed a caution that checked him. Her body might be bowed into his, and his caresses might be raising gasps of pleasure, but she was surprised and frightened.

He wrapped her in his arms and nuzzled her hair and forced some restraint. He did not need Jacques' lessons to know that this was no way to make love to a woman the first time.

When he kissed her again he did so carefully, slowly luring her. She joined him in her tentative way. He reveled in her soft curves as she grew relaxed and pliant beneath his hands again, but arousal still surged and retreated, as if she feared the sensations and kept forcing control on them. Something inside her resisted knowing again the abandon she had experienced in the gazebo.

Her breasts, hardened with passion, pressed against his chest. He drew his hand forward and smoothed at their fullness. A deep sigh breathed from her, a lovely sound, and her whole body trembled. He set her away from him against the wall and cradled both breasts in his hands. When he rubbed their hard tips with his thumbs, she grasped at his arms as if to steady herself.

He watched the soulful battle as she alternately gloried in the pleasure and fought it. Her clutching fingers on his arms both held him to her and pressed him away. His own need burned fiercely at the image she presented, liquid-eyed and beautiful, tottering on the brink of ecstasy.

Dipping his head, he kissed her breast. He slid his hands to her back and released the closures of her gown. Her heavy lids rose with renewed alertness.

If she was going to change her mind, it would be now.

He knew how to stop that from happening. He slid the gown's bodice down, determined to subdue any misgivings with his hands and mouth.

The relief in her expression stopped him.

He realized that it was what she expected and wanted. Defeat instead of surrender.

They faced each other, their breaths the only sounds, both resisting for their own reasons the pull of desire. They held each others' arms in an odd, distant embrace. Her gown hung around her hips and her lovely breasts strained against the thin fabric of her chemise. Their swells peeked erotically over the hard encasement of her stays.

He traced one finger along the neckline of her undergarment. “Remove it. Offer yourself to me as you did at Staverly.”

Surprise flashed in her eyes. She glanced away in embarrassment. He fought the urge to trail his hand lower and provide the excuse of seduction she wanted.

She looked back. With the charming awkwardness that claimed her at times, she pushed the straps of her chemise down her arms.

The small cooperation ended her fragile resistance. When he caressed this time, skin on skin, her head lolled back against the wall with a sensual sigh of acceptance.

He took her hands and placed them behind her neck so that her bent elbows flanked her head and her lovely breasts rose to him. He caressed and licked them, teasing at the hard tips, drawing out her passion. She arched against the wall in growing delirium, and finally stroked one hand into his hair to encourage him to draw more aggressively.

His thoughts blurred to everything but the smell and taste and sounds of her. Chaotic need crashed through him. He stroked to her thighs but the armor of petticoats interfered. Exploring ineffectively but unable to keep his hands off her, he took her mouth in another kiss.

She rose to it with an eagerness that equaled his own. They sparred with biting, impatient mouths. He grasped her head steady and tamed her cascading kisses with a deep joining that eased his burning even while it stoked it.

He broke away and took a step back. She looked wonderfully wild and dishevelled. Her eyes gleamed with the primitive sensuality of her arousal.

Taking her hand, he eased her forward. “Come to bed.”

Her slight pull of resistance surprised him. She was long past retreat. He knew that even if she did not.

He released her hand and opened his arm. She stepped into it. Lifting a brace of candles from a nearby table, he brought her to the bedchamber.

She walked within that guiding arm, against his warm strength, almost tripping over her hanging skirts in her clumsy breathlessness. Electrifying emotions gave their progress an unreal quality.

Decorated like the sitting room, the bedchamber spoke of comfort created by a man with no one to accommodate but himself. The carved, draped bed impressed her as incredibly inviting. And frightening.

He explored her neck with kisses while he loosened the fastenings to her gown and petticoats. Acres of fabric billowed down to the floor.

He knelt to lift her feet out of the heaping fabric. “So many layers. Unlike the ones reflected in your eyes, these are a nuisance.”

“You see more in my eyes than what is there.”

He slid off her hose with tantalizing palms. “They are there, and they are intriguing.”

Their talk barely distracted her from the shocking reality that she was down to her stays and underclothes. “Perhaps more intriguing than what is under them.”

“I already know what is under them. You are the one who does not.”

He stood and embraced her in a long kiss, then parted and began to loosen the sleeves of his shirt.

She tried to be a bold lover. She plucked loose the tie of his cravat and fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat. He watched with warm amusement and did not seem surprised when her shaking hands stopped. He shed his waistcoat and shirt on his own.

Which left her standing with her nose an inch away from his bare chest.

His hewn beauty left her mouth dry. She laid her hand on the tautness and warmth. Her fingers stretched up a chiseled muscle and a sensual stirring purred through her. She had never thought that seeing a man's body could be so engrossing.

She looked up. Searing eyes watched her tentative explorations. Self-conscious suddenly, she let her hand fall away.

He sat in a chair, removed his boots, and began on the trousers that she had been too cowardly to deal with. Flustered and excited, she turned away and tried to unlace her stays.

“I will do it.” Strong hands grasped her waist and guided her back until she sat on his knees. His bare knees, she realized with a jolt. He was naked.

She balanced awkwardly on his legs, facing away from him. Flush after flush tingled her skin while his hands released and removed the stays. She looked down at the thin fabric of her drawers and the chemise falling around her hips. Her naked legs dangled along his shins.

She made to scoot off but he pulled her back, into the astounding physicality of his arms and body. The sensation of his nakedness shocked her. It was also wickedly exciting.

Not as wicked as his hands. Slow, languid caresses raised waves of sensuality that drowned her embarrassment. She relaxed into him, her head against his shoulder and her face turned toward his handsome profile. His gaze wandered down her at will, while his strong hands traced delicious lines of pleasure around her breasts.

“How beautiful you are,” he said. “Your skin is so luminous and your form so feminine. I could look at you for hours.”

She watched him look at her. His hands moved and circled her breasts with trails of excruciating anticipation. He touched the tips in ways that forced cries to rise to her throat and her body to arch for more.

His head turned to kiss her while he gently rubbed and palmed. Anxious hunger churned through her, down deeply, pulsing with excitement. The craving pleasure created by his slow, patient hands was driving her mad.