by Olivia Drake
In the shallows, she stood up and let the water roll off her body. The early morning air felt almost warm after the chill of the lake. Nevertheless, her wet state raised gooseflesh on her skin. She must hurry and don her dry clothes.
Lifting her arms, she squeezed the excess water out of her heavy tresses. The swim had left her feeling refreshed and relaxed. There was something sinfully hedonistic about being outdoors in a state of undress. It brought back an echo of that erotic dream she’d had of Max …
Oh, Lord, she mustn’t think such thoughts when an overheated state had been the reason why she’d come to the lake in the first place. Wouldn’t that be a lark if she needed another cold plunge! Laughing at herself, she darted to the pile of folded garments lying on the steps of the Greek temple. Just as she reached down to grab the linen towel on top, a noise startled her.
The crack of a twig. The scrape of a footstep.
Someone was coming!
Gasping, Abby straightened up at once. The towel clutched to her bosom, she spun toward the direction of the sound. A man was walking out of the shadows of the forest. He came straight toward her, his strides purposeful.
Max.
She stared wide-eyed in the throes of shock. It seemed for an instant that her dreams had conjured him out of the ether. That fleeting notion vanished as the crunch of his footsteps on the stone path assured her that he was no phantom lover, but a flesh-and-blood man.
He had left off the trappings of the elegant gentleman this morning. A white cambric shirt outlined the powerful muscles of his shoulders and chest, and a pair of fawn breeches hugged his long legs. His dark hair was tousled, a lock falling onto his brow. An air of wildness seemed to emanate from him, as if he’d abandoned all pretense of polite manners. The piercing intensity of his gray eyes caused a lurch within her depths. The sensation was half alarm and half allure, causing an emotional tug-of-war that rendered her speechless.
He stopped directly in front of her. Her senses sharpened, she could hear the pounding of her heart as she caught a trace of his appealing male scent. He was unshaven, as if he’d just arisen from bed, and his bristly jaw enhanced the uncivilized aura about him. But he made no attempt to touch her, keeping his hands gripped at his sides.
“Abby,” he murmured.
The soft caress of his voice resonated inside of her. His gaze roved downward over the sodden shift that adhered to her body. She had been chilled, but now his bold stare suffused her in the heat of a blush. She could only imagine the scandalous eyeful he must be getting, for the garment was nearly transparent. Her only sop to modesty was the small linen towel that she clasped to her bosom.
She might as well be standing naked in front of him.
Questions tumbled through her agitated mind. What was she to do? Where had he come from? Had he been watching her swim? What must he think of his sister’s governess behaving like a hoyden?
Despite the embarrassing impropriety of the situation, she found herself aching for the warmth of his arms. If only he would hold her close and never let go. On the day when he had taken her up on Brimstone and ridden with her to their secret glade, she had seen glimpses of the tender boy that she’d loved with all her heart—the man she still loved in spite of the wicked reputation he had acquired since then. A keen yearning for him threatened to crumble her self-discipline. It was imperative for her to escape before she did something reckless and downright idiotic.
Abby edged toward her clothing. “You oughtn’t be here, Max … I mean, my lord duke. Nor should I. If you’ll excuse me…”
He took a step to block her path. A suggestive smile tipped one corner of his mouth. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over her cheek, leaving a trail of sparks. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Aren’t you?”
She swallowed. “I—I hardly think—”
“For once, darling, don’t think.” He plucked the towel from her nerveless fingers and flung it away. “Just feel.”
Pulling her flush against him, he brought his mouth down over hers in a deep, drowning kiss. A marvelous flow of delight filled her as if she’d taken an intoxicating swig of champagne. At the touch of his tongue, she parted her lips to allow him to explore her more thoroughly. She clasped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe, the better to feel his closeness. His hold on her tightened as if he too experienced a profound need in his soul.
Darling. Was she really his darling? It seemed impossible to be true. Yet with every beat of her heart, she wanted to believe that Max cared as intensely for her as she did for him.
In his embrace, Abby felt the joy of homecoming, of being in the place where she belonged. The heat of his solid form warmed all the coldness inside of her. With so little clothing to separate them, she was acutely aware of the broadness of his chest and the strength of his muscles. Her skin tingled all over as he caressed her face, her back, her bosom.
Oh my, being kissed by Max was heaven. He gently nibbled at her lips, murmuring sweet nothings until she felt on the verge of a swoon. Surely no other experience in life could even come close to this. The rules of proper behavior no longer seemed important. Being held by him felt right and perfect. It stirred in her the irresistible desire to surrender herself into his keeping.
If temptation had a face, it belonged to the Duke of Rothwell.
The thought disturbed the fullness of her pleasure. No wonder so many women flocked to him. Max was amazingly skilled at kissing—and other erotic acts, according to gossip. Was she truly willing to become just another one of his conquests?
Abby drew back slightly, although she was unable to bring herself to separate their bodies. Instead, she rested her palms on his chest to keep a measure of distance from him. Maybe she could convince him to walk away. “Max … we’re outside. Someone might see us here.”
“Mm.” He nuzzled her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the hollow of her throat. “It’s far too early in the morning.”
“But … I’m soaked. I’m getting you all wet.”
“A simple matter to fix.”
He yanked the cambric shirt over his head, dropping it onto the grass and affording her a spectacular view of his bare chest. Her rapt gaze followed the dusting of black hair that narrowed to a line, trailing downward across his flat belly to disappear inside his breeches. He looked every inch the wicked rake that young ladies were warned to avoid.
Thirty-year-old spinsters ought to know better, too.
Aware that she was ogling, she lifted her gaze to his. “Why are you here, Max? Don’t you think Lady Desmond might object?”
“It’s no concern of hers.” He drew Abby close again, tracing his fingertip along the scooped neck of her shift. “In fact, when I spied you from my window, I had to follow. I was hoping for the chance to explain something.”
“Yes?”
He cocked a dark eyebrow. “I believe you may have made a wrongful assumption yesterday at the picnic.”
The progress of his fingers distracted her. Now they were swirling lightly over the wet cloth covering her bosom. “How so?”
“If Lady Desmond looked rather disheveled after the scavenger hunt, it was due to her stumbling over a rock and falling. Nothing of note happened between us. She is not my lover—nor has she ever been.”
Abby scanned his handsome face for deception and found none. Lord Ambrose had been telling the truth, then. Yet she could not forget that scorching scene in the library when she’d caught Max romancing the blond vixen. “I see. So it is merely a commonplace event for you to kiss women senseless and to reach underneath their skirts.”
His lips tilted in a boyish grin. “Only if they’re willing.”
“I daresay many are eager to win the attentions of a wealthy duke.”
“How lowering you are to a man’s pride, Miss Bramble. All this time, I thought it was my scintillating companionship they sought.”
His wandering fingers on her bosom made Abby struggle to keep her mind on the conversation. Honesty mad
e her concede, “I cannot deny that’s part of it. You’re a very charming man, and— Oh!”
She inhaled a sharp breath. Now he was gently massaging her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. The action ignited a filament of fire that burned down to the very depths of her womb. Rational thought fled as wanton heat spread through every part of her body.
Her legs melting, she leaned into him, clinging to his strong shoulders for support. “Max! What do you think you’re doing?”
He brought his head down to feather his mouth over hers. “I’m giving you the gift of pleasure. Today is your birthday, is it not?”
The tender nip of his teeth on her lower lip caused another quake inside of her, even as his words struck her with surprise. “You remembered!”
His air of lighthearted banter vanished, and he gazed deeply into her eyes. His hand cradled her cheek as if she were precious to him. “I may have been gone for years, Abby, but I’ve never forgotten anything about you. Nor have I ever stopped desiring you.”
The huskiness to his tone made her heart take wing. Was it possible that he too felt a bond between them that had survived the test of time? She wanted desperately to believe that. Even more, she craved for Max to show her the mysteries of lovemaking.
In that moment, Abby knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she didn’t wish to be a dried-up spinster who had never experienced a dalliance with a man. The Duke of Rothwell might be a rogue incapable of fidelity, he might leave her tomorrow and never return, yet she wanted to learn everything that he could teach her. He was right, she could think of nowhere else in the world she preferred to be but here in his arms.
Her fingers sought the roughness of stubble on his jaw. “Oh, Max, I want you, too. I want all the pleasure that you can give me. Here. Now.”
His eyes darkened with that same fierce look he’d worn when he’d walked out of the woods. “Then you shall have it.”
Thrusting his fingers into the tangle of her damp hair, he subjected her to a kiss of unleashed ferocity. His other hand roamed boldly over the curves of her body. A glorious yearning swept through her, making her heart race and her insides curl. She could not get enough of him, the magic of his mouth, the silkiness of his hair, the heat of his skin. Hunger built in her, the craving to let him do with her whatever he willed. She cared nothing for the past or the future, only that she might know the joy of being with him in the present.
His wildness gradually eased into a softer kiss that was no less thrilling to her senses. He worked his hand inside her shift to cup her bosom in his big palm. Then he proceeded to play with her, lightly and teasingly. The tingling heat provoked by those slow caresses wrested a moan from her as she moved sinuously against him. “Max. Oh, Max.”
“I want to see all of you,” he whispered against her ear.
With that, he peeled the loose undergarment off her shoulders. Any trace of shyness she felt was overshadowed by the greater need to feel her flesh pressed to his. The desire to join their bodies seemed inevitable, she marveled, a natural component of her love for him.
And she did love him, even if he could not return the sentiment. She drew a breath to ease the ache in her chest. Tomorrow would be soon enough to think about that. For now he was hers, and nothing else mattered.
Under his guiding hand, the damp shift slithered downward over the mounds of her breasts and lower, until it fell into a pool at her feet. All the while, the brush of his fingers sent sparks over her bare skin to feed fuel to the feverish ache inside of her.
He placed his hands on her shoulders while his admiring gaze roved over her nudity. “You reminded me of a nymph when you came out of the water. How beautiful you are, Abby.”
Under his scrutiny, she felt more like a brazen wanton than a lady of strict moral upbringing. But she wouldn’t trade this moment even if it brought her a lifetime of censure. The hot intensity in his eyes made her feel young and vibrant and desirable. It was passion that radiated from him, and the same desperate longing bedeviled her, too.
Abby slid her palms over the sculpted muscles of his chest. Standing on tiptoe, she tenderly kissed his mouth. She didn’t quite know how to articulate what she wanted, only that she wished he would do it. “Please.”
Max seemed to understand, for he made a feral sound in his chest. He caught her in his arms and pressed her down onto the grassy verge beside the temple so that she lay beneath him. Then he proceeded to engage her in a series of soul-stirring kisses. When he stroked her bare breasts, kneading the fullness and stimulating her skin, a flush of pleasure suffused her entire body. It felt utterly natural to be lying with him like this, reveling in the enjoyment of his unhurried caresses.
She adored the heavy weight of him. Her own hands learned every inch of his torso, though further exploration was foiled by the fact that he still wore his breeches. Nevertheless, she was keenly aware of the most private part of him, a thick hardness that pressed into her thigh and made her quiver with unladylike curiosity.
His lips left hers to lay a necklace of kisses over her throat. He shifted his attention lower to draw the sensitive peak of her breast into his mouth, and the stroking of his tongue caused a shocking rush of pleasure. Unprepared for it, she gasped. “Oh!”
He paused to look at her. His eyes were vigilant, his breathing weighted, as if he fought to control himself. He tenderly brushed back a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “Are you afraid, nymph? You needn’t be.”
He was referring to that time long ago, she thought, when his clumsy attempt at seduction had caused her to withdraw in alarm. What would have happened had she allowed him to complete the act? If they had not quarreled, instead? Would he have kept his promise to return and marry her, in spite of the mishap with their letters?
Abby banished the memory. None of that signified anymore. There was only the here and now.
She traced his damp lips with her fingertip. “I could never be frightened of you. Not anymore.”
Catching hold of her hand, he nuzzled the sensitive hollow of her palm. “If you wish me to stop at any time, you’ve only to tell me and I shall.”
“Oh, Max. I believe I might die if you stop.”
One corner of his mouth quirked in a strained smile that bespoke his own intense desires. They kissed again with an insatiable passion that left her soft and willing in his capable hands. As birds twittered in the branches overhead, Abby felt like a creature of nature, uninhibited and set free of restraints.
Driven by feverish urgency, she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his breeches and gave a little tug. “Will you—? Will we—?”
“Patience, darling. I’ll have your pleasure first.”
“But I am pleased. Very much so!”
A rakish glint lit his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
He said no more, merely sliding the palm of his hand downward over the flatness of her belly, where it lay warm and heavy and possessive while he kissed her again. Then, with torturous deliberation, his fingers strayed southward until one of them slipped inside the nest of her womanhood.
Abby cried out in startled wonder as his touch unleashed a flood of decadent sensations. All of her awareness focused on his fingertip as he swirled it around her throbbing center. His caress felt so sinfully alluring that she instinctively parted her legs to encourage him. While he played with her, his mouth strewed leisurely kisses over her breasts, her belly, and … lower.
An inkling of his intent penetrated the fog of her passion. Gazing down at his dark head, she was unable to articulate a protest, for a quivery excitement swelled within her. When at last he parted her folds and blew softly on her wetness, it was fuel to the blaze of her desires.
All modesty fled at the first lap of his tongue. The divine sensation was half pleasure, half torment. Abby tried to lie still, but it proved impossible not to move her hips in an effort to assuage the scorching rise of excitement.
Tilting her head back on the grass, she threaded her trembling fingers in
to his hair, craving something beyond her perception. Desperate need encompassed her entire existence; soft cries of frustration eddied from her throat. At the very instant when she could bear no more, the tension broke and she tumbled headlong into a sea of blissful release.
As the waves of euphoria began to recede, she felt Max’s weight leave her. She lifted heavy eyelids to watch in a happy daze as he unfastened his breeches and stepped out of them. Magnificent in his nakedness, he stood in the dawn light against the backdrop of the white marble temple like a Greek god descended from the heavens.
The sight stirred an impassioned ache of anticipation in her. He was all muscle and sinew, the broad span of his chest tapering down to a lean waist and hips. His jutting member was as splendidly large as the rest of him. Her gaze skittered over that portion of his anatomy, then flashed upward to see him watching her with a rather fierce half-smile.
The hungry promise in his stare made her shiver, not from maidenly fear, but from a resurgence of readiness. There was more to come, she knew, and she desired it all.
Smiling up at him, she lifted her hand in invitation. He took hold of it, his warm fingers gripping hers. His possessive gaze flicked over her as she lay indolently in the grass, before he brought himself onto her again, drawing her over onto her side to face him.
She sighed in contentment at the warm, solid feel of him. Even in her dreams she had not imagined this joy of lying naked with a man. No, not just any man. Max, whom she had loved forever.
She kissed his stubbled jaw. “I begin to fathom your wicked reputation. You’ve made me a very happy woman.”
A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “We’re far from finished.”
“Mm. Have I mentioned how glad I am that you followed me here today?”
His gray eyes studied her with a penetrating intensity. He brushed back a lock of her hair from her cheek. “When I saw you swimming, I ought to have gone away. But I couldn’t stop watching you, Abby. Or stop craving you.”