Climbing the stairs with him close behind, she told herself all that. Feeling him back there unsettled her, however. It entered her mind that it might have been better if he had just ravished her in the coach. Daniel succumbing to rough passion was something she knew. This quieter, calmer, contained sensuality seemed more dangerous.
And more exciting. She could not deny that. By the time they reached the upper chambers, her senses were sensitive to everything, especially his proximity.
A long metal tub had been set in one chamber behind a low hearth screen. A small fire burned, removing the building’s light chill.
She dipped her fingers into the bath water. “Just right.”
She felt him behind her. His hands began working the tapes on her gown. She instinctively stiffened, to suppress a visceral tremble that threatened to shake her whole body.
“Do you mind that I am doing this?” he asked.
“I am very unsettled, that is all.”
“Is it unpleasant, being unsettled?”
She realized it was not unpleasant. Not really. She shook her head.
Her gown gaped open in the back and sagged on her shoulders. With no effort from her, it slipped down her body, leaving her in her underclothes and bare legs. He kissed the skin of her naked shoulder.
“You are not unsettled, darling. You are aroused. You are feeling how much we want each other.”
Giving a name to it only made it stronger. The sensation turned more physical. Her body became even more conscious of him. The parts of lovemaking that were not entirely horrible, not horrible at all, began flitting through her mind.
He went to work on the lacings of her stays. She sensed the garment slowly releasing her, too aware that soon she would have almost nothing on. If the first time was any indication, she doubted she would have a bath after all.
She was not even sure that she wanted one now.
The stays fell to the ground too. She only had her thin chemise on now. It was daylight still. There were no candles to snuff out.
Embracing her, he turned her in his arms and kissed her. He did not overwhelm her with his passion as he had in his chamber, but it affected her just the same. Everything that she was feeling, the delicious excitement and the physical thrills, grew tenfold, burying fear and wariness.
He slid the chemise off, his gaze following its slow descent. An echo of shock sounded, but mutual desire sang louder. Astonishment at being naked faded. She liked the way he looked at her. It woke that deep pulse, and the throbbing seemed to spread to her whole body.
She wanted him to kiss her again. Touch her. She wanted it enough that she could not pretend she did not. She imagined him doing so, and that created an anticipation that aroused her more. The power of what she was experiencing was all that surprised her now. Admitting that they wanted each other was turning her wanton.
Instead of that kiss and caress, he handed her into the tub.
The water felt sensual and cool, lapping gently over her warm skin, showing her how vivacious her senses had become.
He handed her the soap.
“Are you leaving?” she asked as she raised and lathered a muddy leg.
His gaze meandered up her leg, and then up the rest of her body. “Do you want me to?”
She suddenly saw him as she had in his chamber while she lay naked and waiting. The same sensuality stretched between them now, and a little of the old fear returned. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He smiled, and walked around the screen.
She scrubbed the other leg, disappointed in herself. She was such a coward. He was being so patient with this slow seduction, and she had backed down—
He was behind her suddenly. She felt him by her head, kneeling by the tub. “Give me the soap.”
Glancing back as she handed it to him, she saw that he had removed his coat and shirt.
He looked wonderful. So handsome and warm, so appealing in his lean strength. Images of embracing him entered her head, making her breath catch.
He dipped the soap into the water at her side. The action brought him closer. As he joined his hands to make a lather, his flanking arms enclosed her in a vague embrace.
“You are too beautiful for me to leave you to your privacy. If you could see yourself, you would understand. I think that bathing a wife may be one of the rights of a husband.” He spread the lather down her arms in a soapy caress. Stroke after gentle, slow stroke, his fingers and palms moved the white foam over her skin.
Luxurious, soothing stimulation lapped over and around her hips just as the water did. She leaned against the tub’s back, into his chest and support, and submitted to the seductive caresses. She watched his taut muscles stretch as his splayed fingers slithered the soap up and down, up and down.
“This will also help me to discover which parts were not entirely horrible for you.” He washed the lather up to her shoulders and onto her chest. His palms skimmed her breasts as he covered her torso with the soap.
The washing slowed. His hands moved deliberately. They slid below her breasts and around them, teasing her. She closed her eyes and waited.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, his mouth right near her ear. His caresses stroked her two breasts in languid, circular movements. The sensation was incredibly sensual. When those smooth hands focused on her nipples, the pleasure sharpened, shortening her breaths, making the arousal almost desperate.
She watched through lowered lids, biting her lip to hold in gasps of pleasure as his fingers circled gently on her nipples, intensifying the pleasure.
“Kneel. Face me.”
This felt so good that she did not want it to end. He lifted her shoulders however, and guided her into position up on her knees, rising out of the water, facing him.
Not only she had been affected by this. His stern expression reflected his own arousal and his awareness of hers. She expected him to lift her up and carry her away. Instead he took the soap and made more suds.
He caressed her breasts again, and then lower. While he kissed her his hands moved to her back and down to her bottom. He stroked over its swells every way possible, making the deep pulse of arousal throb until it owned her mind.
The hot feeling down there maddened her. Holding his shoulders, accepting his kiss, she arched her bottom to his hands, urging him with her body to touch lower and deeper.
He took her hands and lowered them to the edge of the tub. He moved to her side, still washing, now down the backs of her thighs and up between them, now over her bottom and down low, everywhere but where she wanted him.
It was slow, wonderful torment, and she was helpless against what it did to her. She shamelessly hung on the tub’s edge and raised her hips as she arched her back and lowered her shoulders.
He bent and kissed her back. His hand soothed between her upper thighs. “You did not want this last time. Do you now?”
He had made sure she would. She wanted it so badly that she grit her teeth, to hold in her cries.
“Do you?” He made one light touch, like a question mark.
A cry did escape then, one of relief and affirmation. A low series of them followed when he responded with direct caresses. The sensation built and built, turning so intense it pushed her into total abandon.
She rose and grabbed him, pulling him to her so she could hold him. His passion burst free to join hers. He enclosed her in a tight embrace and took her in a deep, possessive kiss. All the while he touched and stroked until nothing mattered to her, nothing existed, except him and that focused sensation so full of unbearable pleasure.
Rivulets of water streaked down his chest from her wet arms. She kissed at one to stop its path, and then another. She playfully licked at the tiny stream. Her tongue followed it all the way up to his shoulder, flicking at his skin. Turning her head slightly, she saw a new kind of passion in his eyes. Proud of herself, she kissed him.
His lips parted and suddenly she was invading him as he had her. The boldness of it g
ave a triumphant thrill to the desire.
Water slapped around her body. He rinsed the soap off her with one hand while he held her to him with the other, encouraging her in her daring explorations. He lifted her out of the tub and pulled her closer yet, in an embrace that seemed to completely enclose her.
Still bound together, still joined by hot flesh and cool water, he released his lower garments and let them fall so that the embrace could be complete.
Firm holds on her hip and shoulder confined her. His deep kiss commanded less physical yieldings. The sense of being absorbed swam through her. Of no separation. Of being controlled in the most benign way, but dominated all the same.
Her feet left the floor. Still holding her, still kissing her, he carried her to the bed.
In the early, cool twilight he knelt over her, his knees flanking one of her thighs. No black night hid her sight of him. The image he created, of lean muscular strength and stern control and passion, left her heart pounding and her body eager. His dark eyes reflected the confident knowledge that she wanted him and that he would have her soon.
He came to her, taut arms flanking her, kneeling still, and kissed her. His head dipped, and his tongue flicked at her nipple just as hers had at his chest.
The pleasure had eased to a deep, flowing excitement, but his mouth sent her reeling again. With his fingers he aroused her other breast. She grasped at his shoulders and her sanity, but the unceasing intensity of the pleasure meant she lost the latter. Closing her eyes, she submitted and spun into a place where nothing else existed but sensation.
Her mind swam with cries for relief and pleas for more. She clutched him harder, wherever she could, unable to keep her hands any stiller than her body. His arms and sides. His torso and hips. She caressed his chest, trying to return to the absorption of that kiss near the tub. Her body became a void that needed something to be complete.
Her hand brushed his phallus in the space between their bodies. Even in her madness she could tell he liked it, that he wanted her to caress him that way.
He gazed down at where her hand moved. Reaching between her legs, he touched her too.
They shared a moment of erotic, heavenly pleasure. Then he touched her differently, very specifically, and her breath left her. She began spinning in a tightening coil of unbearably focused pleasure. Knowing he watched, that he saw the way her body begged and heard the wanton cries and gasps, only increased his control of her.
It turned excruciating. She had been here before, the last time. She tried to retreat, to find relief.
He eased down along her side and she was able to embrace him. It did not help for long. He kissed her and the sense of torment softened a little. He stroked long and deeply, spreading the sensation from that one intense spot.
His mouth brushed against her ear. “Give in to it. If you surrender to it, it will be wonderful.”
She was not sure that she could. She was not sure that she wanted to. She only knew that she was close to crying.
He kissed her breast. “You will surrender, darling. I want you to know what this can be.”
A new touch made her breath catch and her mind go blank. A tension of precise pleasure made all thoughts of retreat disappear. He forced her toward something that she grasped for.
The tension got stronger, excruciating. A high pitch of wonderful sensation shot all through her, making her scream. Perfect pleasure held for an unearthly moment, then burst into a million pieces that flowed through her body.
He was in her when her mind came back to her, settled between her legs. There was no real pain this time, only relief, as if her body had been incomplete and needed the way he filled her.
She had no resistance this time. She could not protect herself from anything, least of all her own heart. She could not block the way he possessed her. He filled all the voids, even the oldest one in her heart. It vanished the way it had in her chamber that night. She was helpless against the emotions evoked by the intimacy.
She gave more than he did. She knew that. Even when he paused and looked in her eyes and she thought that she could see his soul, even then he reserved something to himself. She could not do the same. She did not know how to. She did not even want to, because her heart had never known such wholeness.
The pleasure returned, quivering where they were joined. She lifted her legs to draw him in more and moved in response to both him and the sensation. He thrust harder, deeper, and the power beckoned her. She rocked into his movements and swept into his passion so that even the desire and hunger and madness were mutual.
At the end she encouraged him, raising her hips to the final hard thrusts. She relished the evidence that he was as helpless to the passion as she was.
For that tiny slice of time, when the surrender was mutual and he was as much hers as she was his, she understood what this could be.
chapter 21
Spring was beautiful this year. Daniel decided that as he rode his horse through London’s streets, aiming for an appointment he did not much care about.
He should care about it a great deal. It promised a small victory instead of a large one, but it would be something. Instead, when he received the letter requesting the meeting, his reaction had been boredom rather than anticipation.
He laughed at himself as he maneuvered his horse around wagons and carriages. The last two weeks had turned him soft. He had always suspected a woman might do that to him.
He could not regret it. He would not have missed one moment of those days by the lake and those nights in her arms.
Memories of Diane’s beauty and passion, of her eagerness and ecstasies, distracted him. Of long hours of incredible pleasure and early mornings of astonishing peace. London had been a world away and the past in another lifetime.
He had come very close to telling her everything. There had been times when the contentment was so complete he had been sure nothing could ruin it. He would look at her while the confessions and apologies tickled his tongue. Each time an image of her, hurt and confused, and of her eyes, wary and cautious, kept him silent. Later, he always decided. When we are back in the city.
The dreamy mood had lingered upon their return, however. He had surrendered to it and gladly kept reality at bay.
Even the letter, and this meeting, had not been able to intrude.
Without knowing he had stopped his horse, he found himself in front of the house he sought.
His soul gave a sigh of resignation, not triumph as it should. He dismounted and went to the door.
The butler led him through an expensively appointed home to the back garden. Like the house itself, the plantings had been arranged with an eye to effect rather than beauty. Lilac bushes, clipped into perfect mounds, lined one wall. Many beautiful blooms had been sacrificed to maintain those globes. A small fruit tree in the corner could have been painted by a salon artist, so artificial was the careful way its budding limbs sprang. The paths appeared as if someone had spent hours chiseling each stone.
It reminded him of a toy he had seen in a shop once, composed of tiny iron bushes and flowers and pavers that a girl could arrange. Now he stood amidst gigantic versions of the same tight shapes.
Andrew Tyndale sat in a chair by an iron table, sipping tea and reading a volume of ancient Greek philosophy in Latin translation. Daniel found that amusing. He doubted Tyndale had ever read such things, even when in school and required to.
“Ah, here you are,” Tyndale said. He smiled broadly and gestured to another chair.
Spirits were offered. When Daniel declined, tea arrived.
“Back from Scotland, I see.” Tyndale’s jovial tone implied that he had heard all about the marriage.
Of course he had. Upon returning to London, Daniel and Diane had discovered they were the talk of the town. In their absence, the Countess of Glasbury let the true story be known. She said that Daniel had stood down because the challenge had led him and Diane to recognize their feelings for each other.
The gossips now speculated on what might have been occurring in Daniel’s house these last weeks. Tyndale’s role in things was all but forgotten.
“Congratulations on your recent nuptials.” He made it sound like an acknowledgment of defeat, as if they had met in a duel of a minor sort and Daniel had won.
Daniel accepted the good wishes and then waited. He was not here to exchange pleasantries, and did not want to be in the man’s company more than necessary. Already their proximity, and seeing Tyndale’s bland, false manner, was shading the last week’s sunshine with a cloud. Other memories, old ones, threatened to push away those of Diane.
“I thought that we should discuss the matter of that debt,” Tyndale said.
“A bank draft would be fine.”
“Of course. However, I would like to propose an alternative, one that may interest you a great deal.”
“If you want to deed me land in South America, I have no interest in such things.”
Tyndale’s tight smile showed he knew he had just been insulted. “It is more complicated than that, and has significant potential. There are men who would kill for this opportunity.”
“I am listening.”
“Do you know how steel is made?”
“As it has always been made.”
“That is correct. Forged in small batches, with great labor. It is too expensive to be used in most industry as a result.”
“There is always iron.”
“It has limitations. Cast iron is weak and wrought iron presents problems in its manufacture and its weight. Imagine if steel could be made much more quickly, with no labor at all. What do you think the value of such a process would be?”
Daniel had to struggle not to show his surprise. At least now he knew who Dupré’s partner was. “It would be impossible to calculate. Are you saying that you have such a process?”
“Yes. I will have the proof in a day or so.”
“Is this proposal of yours connected to this process?”
“I had intended to exploit this myself, but have concluded it might be good to have a partner.”
The Seducer Page 22