by Olivia Drake
Hadrian wondered at his own intense empathy for her. As a rule, he avoided speaking about deep sentiment, preferring to use banter and witticisms as a foil. But tonight he craved more than mindless repartee. He wanted to explore the complexities of this woman who had every reason to be wary of men.
Her expression softened, her eyes as luminous as emeralds in the firelight. She angled herself toward him, placing her palm in the center of his chest. That warm, light pressure made his blood sizzle in spite of his firm resolve. “You’re right, Hadrian. There was no one—until you.”
Chapter 14
Natalie wondered at her own boldness. She had not made a conscious decision to touch him; her hand seemed to have a mind of its own. With only the fine cambric of his shirt separating her palm from his bare skin, she reveled in the heat of hard-muscled flesh. It wasn’t like her to make overtures toward a man. Especially not one who was utterly wrong for her.
A duke. She had grown up despising the British aristocracy for reasons best left unspoken.
Yet tonight Hadrian had become a flesh-and-blood man, and she could no longer disdain him for an accident of birth. Confessing her painful secret had deepened their bond. Somehow, they had gone beyond being mere acquaintances or friends, though exactly what existed between them remained a tantalizing mystery.
Searching herself for sorrow, she found herself blessedly free of that heaviness. Strange, how little the past seemed to matter anymore. She felt lighter, less burdened by all that had happened. And it was largely due to Hadrian. He made her feel protected and cherished in a way that she hadn’t known in a long time. Perhaps forever.
Which meant he was a very dangerous man.
Her sense of safety was an illusion, at least in part. A nobleman would never offer her anything more than a moment’s passing pleasure. In fact, it was probably nothing out of the ordinary for him to be with a woman in the middle of the night. A man of his wealth and charm would have left a string of broken hearts across England.
She had no wish to become one of them.
Nevertheless, the mellow glow of the brandy and her soul-deep yearning proved more powerful than common sense. The very air seemed charged with energy. Did Hadrian feel it, too? She could swear that the heavy thump of his heartbeat against her palm had accelerated.
He glided his fingertips over her cheek, leaving a trail of sparks. “I’m glad you confided in me, Natalie. I only wish I’d gone down to the kitchen sooner and spared you the anguish.”
“But then I would still have the pain bottled up inside of me. Releasing it was very liberating, you know. So was my confession, more than I could ever have imagined.” Done with all the drama, she adopted a lighter, teasing tone. “To be honest, when we first met at the inn, I never would have taken you to be such a good listener. You struck me as too imperious to heed beings lesser than yourself.”
One corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “I beg to differ. I was remarkably well mannered considering that a little brat had dashed into my private dining parlor, interrupted my dinner, and hidden himself underneath my table.”
“You were reserved and aloof,” she countered. “Still, when you helped me find Leo the next morning, I quickly learned that beneath all that cool hauteur lurked a kind, chivalrous gentleman.”
His eyes gleamed. “I hope you’ll never repeat that to anyone. I’ve worked hard to maintain that aura of cool hauteur.”
“I’m sure it comes naturally to one of your rank, without the least bit of work at all.” Natalie couldn’t resist sliding her hand over the hard wall of his chest as she gave him a saucy smile. “So, what did you think of me at our first meeting? An ill-mannered provincial, no doubt, since I failed to curtsy. And one who was vulgar enough to commit the cardinal sin of shaking your hand.”
“Rather, you were the loveliest and most unusual woman I’d ever met, though perhaps a trifle irritating—”
“Irritating? Because I didn’t bow and scrape to you, I presume.”
“Don’t interrupt, you ill-mannered provincial,” he said with a glint of deviltry. “The truth is, I found you to be fascinating. And I confess to having had a keen desire to unpin your hair.”
“My hair?”
“I wanted to see it free and flowing. I still do. May I—” Caught in the wizardry of his words, she nodded. He reached for her braid and nimbly untwined it, allowing her hair to tumble into heavy coils. Then he sifted his fingers through the long, dark strands so they wafted in loose disarray across her shoulders and bosom. “It’s even prettier than I expected. As soft and luxurious as sable.”
A thrum of desire burrowed deep inside her. It seemed startlingly intimate to let a man fondle her unbound hair. As if it were an act to be done in the bedchamber by a husband … or a lover. She sternly reminded herself that Hadrian could be neither. “I thought you found me irritating.”
“We were speaking of first impressions. And you have to allow that I was bound to be a little irked when my privacy had been invaded by strangers.” Hadrian brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “But any minor irritation I felt then has long been surpassed by my admiration for your beauty—both inside and out.”
The mask of reserve had vanished entirely, and his eyes looked as warm as smoke. Did he truly find her beautiful? Against all caution, Natalie ached to believe that he spoke from the heart. That he felt as uplifted by their closeness as she did. As they gazed at each other, a powerful eroticism pulsed between them. She could no more resist its magnetic pull than she could cease breathing.
It seemed inevitable when he brought his head down to brush his lips over hers. A delicious little shiver coursed through her, and she closed her eyes to savor the sheer pleasure of his kiss. She hadn’t realized until that very instant just how much she’d been longing for it. His hands cupped her face as if she were precious to him, while his mouth glided lightly over hers. Though it held the tender testament of affection, the effect was also deeply sensual, tingling throughout the most hidden places of her body.
Heaven help her, the man was enticing. Nothing in her experience could match the bliss of this moment. It was hard to believe they had met for the first time only a few days ago. She felt as if she had known Hadrian forever.
All too soon, he broke the contact, and when she lifted her lashes, a molten silver blaze burned in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat at that passionate look even as his hands dropped to her shoulders. His tense jaw and sudden stiffness of manner contradicted the naked desire on his face.
“Natalie,” he said in a gravelly tone, “it’s time for you to go.”
She blinked at him in confused dismay before understanding emerged from her passion-fogged thoughts. Of course. He’d witnessed the attack on her in the kitchen. He’d seen her weep uncontrollably. He’d listened to her tale of horror. It had been a night of raw emotions for her, and his innate sense of honor forbade him from seizing any advantage over her.
But she didn’t want to part from him. Not just yet. Not even in light of the peril he posed to her heart.
She lifted her arms to encircle his neck and rubbed her cheek against the raspy growth on his jaw. “Don’t be a gentleman, Hadrian,” she whispered. “At least not for a little while longer.”
The fire in his eyes burned brighter. His thumb tilted up her chin as he keenly studied her. Then he released a harsh breath. “God help me, you’re far too tempting.”
Without further ado, their mouths met again by mutual consent. This time, he kissed her with skillful mastery and unbridled passion. The knowledge of his desire for her was like a torch to tinder as liquid fire flowed through her veins, seeping into even the marrow of her bones.
He parted her lips and came inside to taste her deeply. The mating of their tongues felt remarkably enticing and even more seductive than the stroking of his hands over her face and hair. Having known only chaste pecks from long-forgotten suitors, she gloried in the new experience. It was as if Hadria
n had awakened her dormant nature and filled her with a thirst for something more. Seeking that elusive prospect, she pressed closer to him, her fingers slipping into the rough silk of his hair as she returned his kiss with brazen eagerness.
In the midst of it, Natalie knew she would always remember this moment. The captivating pleasure of being clasped to his male form, the dark taste of brandy in his mouth, the shivery excitement of his caresses, all of those impressions were seared into her mind. Knowing that their embrace could not last, she would tuck it away in her heart and hold it there forever.
His fingers tracked down the smooth column of her neck, lingering a moment over the rapid pulse beat in her throat, then sliding beneath her wrapper to caress the bare skin of her shoulders. He brushed aside a few stray curls of her hair to allow his lips to follow the same path.
Natalie quivered as the velvety dampness of his tongue tasted her tender flesh. She tilted her head back, reveling in the intoxicating sensations he aroused so easily in her. It seemed only natural when he parted her robe to continue his exploration. Adrift in enjoyment, she was barely aware as he unbuttoned the front of her nightgown until his hand slipped inside to cup her naked breast. When his thumb stroked over the puckered tip, heat flowed down to her core and wrested a gratified gasp from her.
He used his other hand to tilt her face for another deep, languorous kiss; then he rubbed his whiskered cheek against hers so that she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. “I want you, Natalie,” he said in a rough whisper. “I crave you, all of you.”
His passionate declaration swamped her defenses, as did the voluptuous delight of his fingers plying her sensitive flesh. Inundated by a sea of giddy sensuality, she finally understood the powerful instinct to mate with a man. She hungered to be ravished, to let him take their closeness to its inevitable conclusion, despite the wisp of rationality that warned her against it.
Her fingertip traced the outline of his damp lips. “Hadrian … I never knew I could feel so … so alive as I do right now with you.”
“Yes.”
The possessiveness imbued in that single word ought to have irked her. Yet under the burn of his touch, she found herself glorying in his attentions and wanting to give herself to him. Especially when he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth.
The lap of his tongue fed fuel to her inner fire, and she caught her breath at the shocking pleasure of it. Her fingers moved restlessly over his broad shoulders and into the thickness of his hair. With every skillful tug of his lips, an insistent throbbing pulsed deep within her, making her edgy and eager, crumbling the last of her defenses. All of her awareness focused on the provocative delight of his suckling. There was only the here and now; nothing else mattered but Hadrian. Hadrian, who had become as essential to her as air to breathe. She ached to learn everything that he could show her …
He suddenly drew back. His grip tightening on her shoulders, he sat up straight. Cool air washed over the exposed skin of her bosom. She opened her eyes in confusion to protest his abrupt manner. “What—”
His finger over her lips silenced her. All trace of warmth had vanished from his face. His granite gaze was trained on a spot somewhere beyond her. In the next instant, she heard what had distracted him.
The distant rattle of a lock in the great hall. The muffled click of a door opening and closing. The staccato approach of footsteps.
Hadrian swore viciously under his breath as he yanked the edges of her robe together. “We can’t be seen like this,” he muttered. “You’ll be ruined.”
Comprehension doused her desire. It was like a dash of ice water to realize how far she had ventured beyond the bounds of proper behavior.
The sensual spell shattered, Natalie jumped to her feet and tidied herself. He did likewise, stepping away to don his coat, which had been lying on a chair in the shadows. She had barely retied her wrapper and combed her fingers through her tangled hair when footsteps approached from outside the library.
Lord Wymark stepped into the room. His gait was somewhat unsteady as he ambled toward them, his garb disheveled, his untied cravat hanging loose around his neck. “Ah, Miss Fanshawe,” he said, slurring his words. “Spied the light in here. Thought ’twas Clayton … ah, there y’are, old boy.”
Hadrian stepped out of the shadows. The passionate lover of a few moments ago had vanished. An expression of chilly detachment on his hard features, he stared at Wymark. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“Slipped out the back door. Took a stroll down to the Hare and Hound for a game or two. Won’t tell the earl, will y’?”
“It’s no concern of mine if you choose to ruin your life.”
“The Duke o’ Decorum. Never steps a toe out o’ line.” Wymark aimed a sly glance at Natalie. “But I see y’ found your own amusement tonight.”
Natalie sucked in an indignant breath. Yet her conscience stopped the protest that sprang to her tongue even as the heat of embarrassment stung her cheeks. What could she say, really, when he’d spoken the truth?
Hadrian’s face turned frosty. Fists clenched at his sides, he took a step toward his cousin. “I’ll make allowances for you being foxed, Wymark. The fact of the matter is, Miss Fanshawe has endured a frightening experience tonight, thanks in part to you. She was just on her way back upstairs.”
* * *
Hadrian watched her depart. He’d braced himself for an argument from Natalie that would have made his defense of her reputation that much trickier. But she’d had the wisdom to calmly bid them good night.
Gliding toward the door of the library, she looked magnificent, tall and slender in the dark gold wrapper, her head held high. Not for her, the weepy reproaches of a wronged lady. She had a stately bearing that hid all sign of the steamy interlude they’d shared. He took fierce satisfaction in the fact that he alone knew of the passionate woman hidden inside of her. It was a mind-altering revelation that ought never to have happened.
And he suffered not a morsel of regret.
Realizing he was staring like a mooncalf, Hadrian pulled his gaze from the now-empty doorway and pummeled his thoughts back into a semblance of rationality. Luckily, Wymark hadn’t noticed.
His second cousin had gone straight to the cabinet to pour himself a drink. Turning, Wymark lifted his glass in a salute that sloshed brandy onto the oriental carpet. “Foul stuff they serve down at the pub. One thing I’ll say for my pinch-fisted sire, he does keep a good cellar.”
As the youth took a swallow, Hadrian went on the offensive. “Your groom assaulted Miss Fanshawe in the kitchen tonight.”
Wymark sputtered and coughed, lowering the glass. “What? Bert?”
“You heard me. The scoundrel tried to force himself on her when she went downstairs for a glass of hot milk. I walked in as she hit him over the head with a cooking pot. He also received a sample of my right hook.”
Wymark ran unsteady fingers through his messy, wheat-gold hair. “I don’t believe it. She must’ve … must’ve led him on—”
For the second time that evening, hot rage surged in Hadrian. Only a thread of coherence kept him from leaping forward and inflicting physical violence. “I ought to lay you out for that slur.”
Looking startled, Wymark stumbled back into a chair and sat down abruptly. “Apologies, coz. Meant nothing by it.”
Hadrian took several deep breaths to calm himself. It would only raise suspicions that would hurt Natalie if he behaved in a way that was at odds with his usual self-possession. When he felt restrained enough to speak, he said tersely, “Bert left Miss Fanshawe in a wretched state of distress. I’ve had the very devil of a time calming her nerves this past hour.” Although other matters also had affected her state of mind, it was best to convince Wymark it was entirely due to the groom.
“Hope y’ told her not to press charges.”
“I’ve dismissed the scoundrel. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Wymark shot back to his feet, nearly toppling over in the proce
ss and spilling the last of his drink. He glanced angrily at the empty glass, then hurled it toward the hearth. His drunken aim kept it from shattering, so that it merely rolled across the carpet and under a table. “You can’t do that, Clayton. He’s my groom, not yours!”
“It’s too late. You’ll have to find yourself someone else.”
“But … he’s the only one with the skill to handle Thunder! My stallion needs weeks o’ training. Else he won’t be ready to race!”
“That is neither here nor there. A violent abuser of women cannot be permitted to remain at Oak Knoll. I’m sure your father would agree.”
At the mention of Godwin, gloom clouded Wymark’s features, along with a measure of resentment. “That’s easy for you to say with your piles of gold. Good trainers don’t come cheap, and Bert was working for free in exchange for a cut o’ the prize money. I’ll never be able to pay off my vowels…” He glanced sullenly at Hadrian. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
Hadrian was not without sympathy for a man in a tight spot, although he himself gambled only on occasion as a matter of social amusement. He had the discipline to know when to cut his losses. But for the past year or so, he’d seen troubling signs in Wymark that wagering was fast becoming an obsession.
“You’re underage,” he pointed out. “You can’t be held liable for gaming debts.”
Wymark looked appropriately scandalized by the notion. “The devil you say! Stiff my friends? I could never hold up my head again.”
“I’m glad you value your honor, at least. If you want to avoid ruin, your first step is to stop wagering. Your second is to sell that blasted stallion. There’s a reason why you were able to purchase him on the cheap. He’s too volatile to ever be a decent competitor.”