by Jenna Jaxon
The dapper figure, sporting a light-colored coat, tall hat, and walking stick strode briskly toward them.
Throwing back her shoulders and assuming an air of disinterest, Fanny peered down the deserted beach in the opposite direction. Her heartbeat quickened and she gripped the railing, determined not to let her excitement show as the sound of his footfalls increased.
“Good morning, ladies.”
The mellow voice sent a thrill through her. God, but he was an exciting man. Fixing a slight smile on her lips, Fanny turned to greet her suitor. “Good morning, my lord. I had almost begun to despair of you.”
“Come now, Fanny. You know me better than that.” His deep blue eyes sparkled in the brightening light. “When have I ever disappointed you?”
Well, he had her there. “There is a first time for everything.”
“Indeed. I do not think we shall see that today,” he said, with an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“Good morning, my lord.” Elizabeth nodded to him, then turned to Fanny. “If you are going to sea bathe, my dear, I propose you go to it before I freeze to this spot.”
“You do not intend to take the waters, Mrs. Easton?” Matthew eyed her gravely. “I understand the salt water is a marvelous cure for almost every ailment known to man.”
“Huh.” Her friend gave him a skeptical look. “I’d as soon put my head in a lion’s mouth, my lord. A quicker and warmer death to be sure. I’m amazed Lady Stephen is actually contemplating it.”
“Lady Stephen has agreed to it to humor me, Mrs. Easton.” His warm gaze fell on Fanny and the chill wind suddenly seemed to lessen.
“You made a promise to me, my lord.” She stared back at him boldly. “I am willing to endure the rigors of the water if that is what it takes to hold you to that promise.”
“I assure you I will make good on it in due time.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Although it is quite early, Mrs. Easton, I have knowledge of a certain bakery not far from here that opens at dawn just for the custom of those who accompany the early bathers. Shall I escort you there for a bit of breakfast while Lady Stephen prepares for her dip?”
Elizabeth’s face lit up as though she’d had a glimpse of heaven. “I would be most grateful, my lord. The breeze is picking up if I don’t miss my guess.” She shot a keen glance at Fanny. “Why don’t you abandon this foolish plan, Fanny, and come to the bakery with us? I am certain you could benefit just as much if not more from Lord Lathbury’s company there.”
A very tempting scheme. Every gust of wind seemed as a knife cutting right through her clothing. Perhaps bathing was foolhardy this morning. Surely Matthew could devise another way for her to be wicked and warm at the same time. She raised an eyebrow just a hair’s breadth and caught an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “You know I am that determined to see this through, Elizabeth. However, you can bring me a hot cross bun when you return.”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth took Matthew’s arm and they started down the promenade. “You’d best head to your bathing machine, my dear,” Matthew called over his shoulder. “Tempus fugit.”
The wretch had some mischief in mind, to be sure. But what on earth could it be? Best be off if she was to find it out. Drawing her cloak around her, Fanny sped down the stone staircase to the sandy beach and struck out for the wooden wagon awaiting her. The owner of the machine had apparently maneuvered it into position, let down the canvas hood into the water, then taken the horses and retired to some place inconspicuous. She’d ordered the machine for two hours, so he wouldn’t return for some time to come.
Gingerly, she approached the waves that lapped at the wheels of the cart. Just how bad was this going to be? She dipped her hand into the water, expecting her fingers to freeze like icicles. The water washed over her, chilly to be sure, but surprisingly less frigid than she’d expected. Perhaps the salt content lessened the shock. Still, she doubted she would enjoy this escapade as much as she had at ten.
Mounting the wooden stairs to the wagon, she gazed about the beach once more. Hers was still the only machine in the water, although another one had entered the beach to her left. She ducked into the wagon and shut the door. One did not want the other driver seeing more than he bargained for.
Now out of the wind, Fanny let her cloak drop off her shoulders and draped it over a chair set out to hold a bather’s clothes. A bathing costume hung behind it, but she’d not avail herself of it. One of the great pleasures of sea bathing was the chance to bathe nude in a semi-public place. Of course, no one could see you unless you hired a dipper to help you into the water. Still, having people scarcely more than a stone’s throw away from your naked body lent the whole proceeding a scandalously wicked feeling. Was that what Matthew had meant by being wicked? She certainly hoped not. She’d set her heart on doing something much more naughty than just bathing in the nude.
Slowly she disrobed, laying each piece of clothing carefully over the chair. Down to her shift, she sat on the edge of the chair to pull her garters and stockings off. Only one piece of clothing remained. She grasped the hem of her chemise, but the nearby jingle of a bridle and a shout of “Whoa, horse,” brought her to a halt. The bathing machine she’d seen entering the beach had apparently taken up residence directly beside her, despite the huge expanse of completely deserted sand stretching to either side of her.
Perhaps the lady inside was nervous and had instructed the driver to pull close to her for comfort. Not that she’d see the woman. Neither would the lady see her. The canvas cover over the rear of her wagon stretched into the water. The water came up over half of the ladder that would allow her to descend into the sea, so no prying eyes could get even a glimpse of her.
With a quick jerk, Fanny pulled her shift up and over her head, leaving her body splendidly naked to the cool air. Her nipples popped up immediately, the tips furled tight against the sudden chill. The dark circles around them puckered like gooseflesh. Her entire torso followed suit and she shivered, though the sensation thrilled her as well. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she rubbed her arms and back briskly. Get the blood pumping a bit faster before taking the plunge.
As she trailed her hands over her chilly skin, she suddenly imagined they were Matthew’s hands, bigger, stronger. With the wide pads of his fingers caressing every inch of her. Shivering, though not from the cold, she stroked her hands down over her belly, eyes closed, imagining his warm body close to hers. She skimmed her fingers back up to her breasts, her nipples hard as granite points. Was it wicked to want him here with her? To want his hands on her? To want him to make love to her? Did she want him enough to marry him?
That brought her out of her dazed dream. She might lust after Lord Lathbury. Lust heartily after him. But she wasn’t ready to commit her life to another man who could betray her as the last one had.
With a deep sigh, Fanny shook herself and plumped herself down at the top of the steps. She was here to bathe, not conjure a phantom lover. She lifted her foot above the murky water and clenched her teeth. Just do it. Steeling herself against the bite of cold water, she thrust her foot down into the sea.
“Oooooh, that is cold.” Instantly, her teeth chattered. The water she’d tested outside had not felt this cold. Swishing the foot around, she wriggled her toes. At least they hadn’t gone numb . . . yet. Could she stand to put the other one in?
Lifting her left foot over the water, she sucked in a breath and braced herself for the plunge.
Beneath the water, something grabbed her right foot and pulled.
CHAPTER 7
Fanny shrieked and fell backward onto the wooden planks of the wagon floor. Scrabbling for a purchase, she dug her elbows in and yanked her right leg back, trying to free it from whatever hellish monster had seized her.
The monster’s grip was relentless, however. It clamped down on her ankle and refused to be shaken off. Dear God, what had grabbed her? She had to get away before it dragged her under the water. If she couldn’t pull away maybe she could i
njure it so it would let her go. Fanny pistoned her leg back and forth, kicking it at the unseen menace. Grunting with the effort, she frantically peered about the bathing machine for some kind of weapon to use against this terror. Blast it, nothing of any use close to hand.
The chair that held her clothing stood directly behind her a foot or two away. She dove backward, shooting her hand out to grasp it. Fingers gripping the sturdy square wooden leg, she jerked it toward her but the chair moved not at all. Fanny pulled harder, but her fingers encountered the cold metal heads of the nails that fastened the chair to the wagon floor.
The murky water stirred between her legs. Bubbles broke the surface, followed by a sleek, round black form.
She screeched again, pulling herself back from the dark figure that was trying to claim her.
A black head emerged from the depths.
Drawing a deep breath to scream once more, Fanny stared at the monster climbing into the wagon and blinked. “Matthew?”
The name came out an absurd little squeak as she stared into the dripping, grinning face of Lord Lathbury.
“Are you all right, my lady?” A distant shout came from without the bathing machine. Apparently her screams had alarmed her driver and brought him to her rescue.
“The water’s so cold,” she called, scooting back as Matthew mounted the steps, his magnificent naked body towering over her. “I was quite shocked.”
Drops of seawater slid gracefully down the sleek muscles of his chest and arms, over his taut abdomen to fall from his body onto her stomach.
“Are you ready to come out, then, my lady?”
Matthew raised an eyebrow and whispered the words “Or do you want to be wicked?”
Heat surged in Fanny’s belly. “No, I believe I can get used to it,” she called, raising her hand toward Matthew.
He grasped it and pulled her to her feet.
“It’s just going to take me a little bit of time. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Wrapping cold arms around her, Matthew pulled her against his wet chest. Her breasts protested the chilly contact only for an instant before the warmth of him began to seep into her skin. “You are a lunatic. I nearly died of fright.”
“I had faith you were made of sterner stuff.” He grinned, gently grasped her face, and brought her lips to his.
She thought to settle into a long, soul-searing kiss, one that would curl her toes and warm her from the inside out. She’d dreamed of such a kiss often since their encounter at Lady Beaumont’s masquerade.
Matthew, however, had other ideas. He brushed her lips with a fleeting kiss, then pressed his mouth to her cheek, traveled upward to caress her eyelid, then breathed into her ear sending shivers of delight all along her body. With the tip of his tongue he traced the shell of her ear slowly from the top, sliding down the sensitive edge until he reached the bottom, then sucked the lobe into his mouth and kneaded it with his tongue.
Blissful shudders wracked her and she arched her back, pressing her breasts harder against his chest. “Mmm. Matthew.”
His chuckle rumbled against her ear, sending another wave of shivers down her spine. “You wanted to be wicked, my lady. Does this qualify?”
Leaning her head back to gaze into his dark blue eyes—now mostly black with desire—she arched an eyebrow. “That depends on what you intend to do.”
“To make love to you in this very public spot, unless you have a suggestion more scandalous than that.” He sank his mouth onto hers, preventing an answer to his question.
Not that she had a better suggestion. The madness of doing such a thing thrilled her from top to bottom. This man knew her down to her adventurous soul and could match her turn for turn. The thought of engaging in such intimacy right on the beach added an element of danger that drove her wild with excitement. She grabbed him around the neck, and pulled him toward the floor.
“A moment, love,” he said, disengaging them and grasping her hands. “We do not want anyone to suspect what we do. Even though the beach is mostly deserted, there may still be those taking the air who will notice if one of the bathing machines begins to rock in a very familiar manner.”
“Then how—”
“Allow me to continue with my plan.” He seized the large linen drying cloth, folded it, and lay it on the wooden planks. “If the sea was just a bit warmer we could simply slide into the water and enjoy a most blissful time that way.” He seated himself on the toweling. “However, I fear that is impossible at present. I am quite used to cold baths since childhood, and still I doubt I could make a good showing with the water at this chilly temperature.” He drew her down to him. “You must come to me at Hunter’s Cross in the summer. There is a lake there, quite isolated, where we can swim or indulge in any manner of fun and interesting activities.”
“I am ready to indulge right now, if you don’t mind, my lord.” She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, then across the dark mat of hair that made her hunger for him soar. Dipping her head, she licked an errant drop of seawater from his peaked nipple drawing a deep groan from him.
“As am I, vixen, if you hadn’t noticed.” Grasping her hand, he placed it on his shaft, hard and hot despite the chill in the air. “Rise over me, Fanny.”
Oh, yes, she remembered this. Only a couple of times had she ridden astride, and had loved it. Without another thought she straddled his big body, poised to slide down over his fully erect cock.
“Wait.” He stopped her by sliding his hand between her sex and his member, his fingers caressing her folds. “I want you ready for me, love.”
“I am ready . . . oh . . . oh, yes.” He’d found her entrance, slipping inside, coaxing her body to remember past pleasures. An internal flame ignited, heating her from the inside out until her face flushed and she panted for breath. Then his thumb brushed the little nub above her entrance and she flew apart.
“Now, Fanny.” He withdrew his hand and slid her down over his eager cock as she shattered around his hot hardness.
“Oh, oh, oh, God,” she cried out, unable to contain the ecstasy as he pumped into her again and again until with a groan he strained into her, filling her with his heat.
Heart beating almost out of her chest, Fanny collapsed on top of him. Never had she been so absolutely sated by a man.
At last Matthew raised his head. “You had best hope you have not killed me. You would never live down the scandal.”
“I wouldn’t need to.” She chuckled, sliding her thumb across his lips. “Because you have done for me as well.” With a sigh she laid her head on his chest again, only to jerk it up as panic set in. “Do you think the drivers heard me?”
“They might have done so, although I believe you could still play it off as shock from the cold water. And my driver will be no trouble in any case.”
“Why not?”
“Kinellan drove me down here. I took no chances with secrecy.”
“Matthew!” Dear Lord. How would she ever face the man when she met him in a ballroom again? “He knows what we did!”
“Whatever he knows or heard, he’ll say nothing. I swear it. Our secret is safe with him.” Gently, he pulled her back down to rest against his chest. “Trust me.”
Could she trust him? There lay the crux of her dilemma. Matthew wanted to marry her. Would he find a way to compromise her so she would be forced to wed him? Although her head said it was possible, her very bones protested the thought. He’d never played her false before. That was something. She relaxed, spreading her hands over his chest. “Ah, Matthew. I have missed you.”
“And I you, love.” He wrapped his arms around her, so sweet, so secure. “How long do you stay at Brighton?”
“Three weeks.” Weeks that would pass all too quickly.
“We will meet frequently during that time, I hope.” He tightened his arms about her.
“Only if you mean in more comfortable places than this.” She laughed and snuggled against him.
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“You didn’t enjoy your wicked adventure, my lady?”
“On the contrary, I enjoyed it very much.” God, but she’d missed the joy of intimacy so much. It had been such a long time since she’d been with a man. Even longer since she’d been with one who truly cared for her. With an effort she sat up, the chill of the wagon suddenly very apparent. “However, I believe I will trade some wickedness for creature comforts if it’s all the same to you.” Leaning down she kissed him briefly, then rolled off him. “Whatever made you even think of having us dally in such a place?”
He grinned at her before rising with a groan. “I remembered your love of danger and so thought such a tryst would appeal to you.” Stretching, he flexed his sleek muscles. “Although perhaps a softer bed next time would be preferable.”
Fanny eyed him hungrily. Broad chest and shoulders tapered to a trim waist and hips. His skin stretched tautly over all, giving his muscles a definition usually only seen in statues of Greek gods. Her Adonis. Beauty, strength, and passion in one dazzling figure. God, she wanted him even now. And he could be hers, forever, this moment, if only she would say the word.
He’d risked a lot to give her this dangerous pleasure today. Lord, how she’d reveled in it. He knew her so well. A tiny voice whispered that they could be happy together. She’d like to believe that voice. But it had whispered the same things about Stephen all those years ago. With her body still throbbing from the passion she’d just shared with Matthew, she wanted so much to believe he would never betray her.
She drew a shuddering breath and turned away from the seductive body before her. Soon. She must learn to trust him enough or move on.
“Will I see you on the promenade this afternoon?” Matthew had moved to the steps at the end of the bathing machine, peering into the cold water. He raised his gaze to her, a sudden hunger in his eyes.
She met his gaze as her own hungers surged once more. “Yes. A bit more suitably dressed though.”
“A pity.” He grinned then pulled her toward him. “Fanny, you may be the death of me yet.” Quickly sinking his mouth onto hers, he claimed her lips with a surety of possession that left her so weak she had to grab for the chair. “’Til this afternoon, then.”