Buckler's Hard

by Kelly, Sahara

  Mariah had come to a decision over something as mundane as a loaf of bread. She wanted this man. His touches had awakened something inside her that had surprised and shocked her. Something she intended to fully explore. Then he could be on his way.

  After all, when life presented opportunities, should they not be accepted?

  "So." Marcus glanced up at her as he reached for his ale. "Tell me about yourself, Mariah."

  "There is little to tell, Sir Marcus." She met his gaze straightforwardly, suppressing a little dart of what she thought might well be lust. Although it could have been nerves or indigestion...

  "Sir Marcus? I think we've passed the stage of such formality, my sweet. We're engaged. I've held your breasts in my hands." His grin was wicked and sensual.

  Yes, it had to be indigestion.

  She ignored the flash of heat arcing between them and focused on the copper pans glowing in the candlelight on the wall behind his head. "I am twenty-eight years old. I am a widow. I have no children and have lived here in Buckler's Hard for the last three years." She snapped her mouth closed.

  "Doing good works and being a support to the community?" One black eyebrow lifted in question.

  "Something like that, yes."

  "Darling liar." His mouth quirked. "Such a woman as you have just described wouldn't be prowling the shores at night helping smugglers unload their cargo."

  "Oh." Mariah bit her lip. "That."

  "Mmm hmm."

  "I support the community by helping where I can." Damn if she was going to reveal her secrets to this man, hot eyes and great body notwithstanding.

  Marcus sighed and leaned back in his chair, idly drumming his fingertips on the old oak tabletop. "You are less than forthcoming, my love."

  Mariah swallowed and stood up. "Look, Sir Marcus. I am not your love or anything else. You've rendered a great service to many people you don't know and who've never heard of you before tonight and for that I thank you. But you are not my fiancé, so you can drop the pretense of acting like it."

  He watched her silently, that predatory smile still in place, his eyes roving over her body like a caress. Mariah shivered, wondering if she had the strength to utter her next words.

  She did. "However, that said, I recognize your service should not go unrewarded. Your quick thinking probably kept a few lads out of jail and a few families from starvation. For that alone, I'm grateful."

  She took a breath, knowing that what she was about to say was totally and utterly outrageous, but that she was going to say it anyway.

  "So I have considered the matter. If you would accept a night in my bed as reward for your gallant behavior, then I would welcome you." She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. "Tomorrow morning you can leave, of course."

  Marcus, caught in the act of finishing off his cheese, sucked in a breath and promptly choked.

  Mariah rounded the table and dealt him a swift blow between his shoulders that nearly forced him off his chair. It did, however, dislodge the crumb of cheese and allow him to speak clearly.

  "Uh...what?"

  Well, perhaps not too clearly. There still seemed to be something stuck in his throat. Perhaps it was his cock, since that disobedient organ seemed to find something extremely attractive about the notion of a night with this fascinating woman.

  "Would you say that again, please?" He coughed a little.

  "No. You heard me the first time." She stared at him defiantly.

  Her eyes, which he'd thought at first were blue, gleamed smoky gray in the candlelight. Her cheeks were flushed—understandable, he supposed, given the highly erotic nature of the suggestion she'd just made.

  Her face wasn't beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. Her nose was straight to the point of being sharp, her eyebrows were thick and expressive and her mouth—ah, now there was a mouth. Wide and full, it made a man forget everything else in his desire to taste it, to run his tongue over it, to feel it wrap around his—

  "Well?"

  Her voice interrupted his lust-filled visions. Gathering his thoughts, Marcus took a moment to quell the leap of desire that had rattled his groin, finishing his ale. Then he set the tankard on the table with a snap and leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as he stared back at her. "Sit down."

  Blinking at the command he'd poured into his tone, she sat.

  "Let me see if I have this correctly. In exchange for my part in tonight's—festivities—you'll let me spend the night in your bed."

  She nodded, a pulse beating rapidly just above the lace of her tightly buttoned shirtwaist. "Yes."

  "Fucking you."

  She winced, blinked again, then nodded once more. "Yes, if you care to put it that way."

  He breathed slowly, pondering the situation. And incidentally recalling how her breasts had molded themselves so perfectly into his hands. He pushed the memory aside. For now.

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why would you make such an offer? To me? A man you've known for less than a night—less than hours, actually. Why do you want to take me to your bed and fuck me?" He kept his gaze on her eyes.

  Incredibly, she snorted out a wry huff of laughter. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

  "What?" It was Marcus' turn to blink.

  "Sir Marcus." She sighed and her eyes slid away from his gaze. "You are—how shall I put this without feeding your vanity—a fine figure of a man. You showed, earlier tonight, the ability to touch a woman with sensuality and passion." Her eyelids lowered, veiling her gaze. "I would know more of such touches. Such passion."

  "'Tis an unusual...reward you're offering me." He shifted on his chair. Damn his cock. "So I must ask again. Why? And don't give me any roundabout nonsense about my looks."

  She shrugged a little. "I am a widow, sir. I was wed for several years to a man who failed to arouse such feelings in me as those you magically awoke tonight in mere seconds. It would seem that I have the opportunity here to explore those feelings without any strings attached to them." She glanced at him briefly, then returned to her contemplation of her hands. "It's not unnatural to be curious about those experiences I might have been denied during my marriage."

  Marcus thought about that. "So your husband was a failure as a lover?"

  "Until tonight, I had not even considered the subject of his lack of finesse. Apparently I erred."

  This, thought Marcus, was the truth. She seemed vaguely surprised.

  "But I cannot help be aware of the passage of time." She sighed. "Sir Marcus, I live quietly, in spite of what you might think after tonight's activities. My life, such as it is, will probably remain thus. Uninterrupted by more than the occasional small foray into free trading. I foresee my years ahead as tranquil and, hopefully, spiritually fulfilling."

  Marcus barely restrained a shudder at the gloomy picture she was painting with her words, but kept his peace.

  "You are a stranger who has been kind enough—or perhaps I should say foolish enough—to assume the role of my fiancé, thus providing an excellent reason for you to spend the night here. My instinct tells me that you would be discreet. There would be little for you to gain by bragging of our activities—ruining an unimportant countrywoman's life doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment. It's not an untoward request, I believe, for me to suggest one night together, during which I hope to learn a little more about the physical responses I perhaps missed out on." Mariah squared her shoulders. "Of course, I shall completely understand if you find the notion repulsive."

  Marcus bit back a laugh. "I don't believe that will be a problem." He stood and stretched, knowing his arousal was distending the front of his breeches. Might as well let her get a good look at the merchandise she was requesting. "Do you fully understand what this will entail, Mariah?"

  He grinned as she dragged her gaze away from his crotch to his face. "Er—pardon?"

  He moved closer to her then, circling her, casually pushing an errant lock of hair away from her should
er. "We shall bed each other. I will fuck you and you will fuck me. All night long."

  She gulped. "All night?"

  "Oh yes, Mariah, my sweet. All night long. I want to show you that passion you asked for. I want to suck those really delightful breasts of yours. I shall probably suck other places too."

  "Other places?" Her face was quite pink now, but she couldn't conceal the flash of interest that had flickered in her eyes.

  "I will make you shake and shiver and hopefully scream. Several times. I will touch you, anywhere I wish, and you will touch me. This has to be a time for us both, darling fiancée of mine. A man can fuck a woman, yes. But true pleasure comes when two people fuck each other."

  "Oh."

  "I want you naked beneath me. Above me. I want to be between your legs and I want you between mine. I want to sink my cock into your body and watch your eyes as I do it. And then I'll probably want to do it all over again. Several times."

  Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She seemed stunned.

  "So I'll ask again. Are you sure you understand what this entails?"

  "Naked? No nightclothes?"

  "Naked." Marcus' voice was emphatic. "Utterly naked."

  Almost instinctively, Mariah's hand lifted to the buttons of her shirt. Then she caught herself and lowered it once more. She swallowed and faced him bravely.

  "Yes, Sir Marcus. I do."

  "Very well." Marcus' body was thrumming with the heat his own words had engendered, in addition to the brightness of her stare and the fragrance of her body. "I have only one condition."

  His hand fell to the softness of her shoulder and down a little, his fingers caressing the smooth rise of her breast through the lacy fabric.

  "Wh-what's that?" She closed her eyes as his touch dropped lower to her nipple.

  "At no time during the hours ahead will you call me Sir."

  Chapter Three

  Mariah led Marcus from the kitchen up the creaking stairs to her bedroom. Her heart was pounding so fiercely, she wondered if he could hear it.

  Was she doing the right thing? No, of course not. She was acting like a wanton bitch in heat. But this opportunity was just too heaven-sent to pass up.

  Her room was modestly furnished, but as comfortable as she'd been able to make it. The floor might have been warped, but it was carpeted. And her bed—oh God, would he fit? It wasn't the massive four-poster he was probably more accustomed to.

  Nerves assailed her as she put her single candle down on her dresser. "This isn't—" She turned hesitantly toward him.

  "It is. You're here. That's all that matters."

  Dear Lord, the man knew the right things to say. "Well, if you're sure." She opened a drawer and withdrew her nightgown. "Pardon me for a moment..."

  Trying to conceal her apprehension, Mariah stepped behind the dressing screen and restrained the urge to peek around it at the man who was probably removing his clothing at this exact moment.

  Oh God. What had she gotten herself into?

  Rapidly, she divested herself of her shirtwaist and skirt, slipped off her boots and stockings and struggled into her serviceable flannel gown. In spite of his deliciously decadent prophecies, she doubted it would take much time. Men, in her limited experience, tended to exaggerate the pleasures of the bed and she might be cold afterward.

  Marcus probably wasn't much different than the rest of his sex, for all his talk about being naked and—and—other things.

  Removing her hairpins, she ran her fingers through her hair, hoping it would do. Then she stepped from behind the screen.

  And froze.

  All right, so Marcus was somewhat different than the rest of his sex.

  She did her best to close her mouth as she stared at him, naked and languorous, sprawled across her bed. He was all muscle and man and darkness—with a large helping of man. It was the "man" part that took her breath away.

  Mariah gulped. "You lit the candles."

  "I wanted to see you."

  "Oh." For some reason her conversational skills seemed to have disappeared the moment her eyes fell on the sight of his incredibly aroused cock, lying casually across one of his firm thighs.

  Oh my.

  It swung free as he got up from the bed and walked toward her.

  "And while this is probably nice for a cold night, had I wanted to fuck a nun or a virgin, I wouldn't be here." He flicked his fingers at the buttons high against her throat.

  "I—er—"

  "That's all right. Taking it off you will be part of the experience."

  "You mean you really do want to be naked?"

  One button slipped free under his talented hands. "Yes."

  "With me?"

  Another button came undone. "Yes."

  "In bed?"

  The third button met the same fate as its compatriots. "Yes."

  "Oh."

  The last button separated and Mariah forced herself not to grab at the two halves of her gown. She'd asked for this, offered it blatantly to a man she barely knew. Now she'd have to live with the consequences of her rash decision.

  "Soon." Marcus pushed the fabric away from her shoulders and skimmed them with his hands. "But first, I think we'll get to know each other."

  One of her hands was clasped firmly and brought to his lips before she could point out that since he was naked there probably wasn't much "getting to know each other" necessary at this juncture.

  Then he surprised her. He lifted her hand higher and opened his mouth, sucking her forefinger deeply, swirling his tongue around it and making her vibrate low in her belly.

  "Mmm. Tasty." He used his whole mouth to envelop her finger, down to the sensitive webbing at the top of her palm.

  She knew her eyes had widened. She also knew that an odd heat was developing in that place she'd felt earlier. Now a certain dampness was apparently developing as well. Most strange...

  He gathered her closer, his arm sliding around behind her, his hot and very naked body touching hers in a variety of interesting places. A clench of his fist at her spine and her gown was pulled down, catching around her elbows and baring her breasts.

  Which, for some reason, seemed to have developed a mind of their own and wanted nothing more than to be squashed against his chest.

  With a sigh, Mariah surrendered to the urgings of her body and leaned against him, barely managing not to groan at the feel of his skin against her nipples. This close proximity brought the clean scent of him into her nostrils, a warm blend of male musk, sea air and the spice of the ale he'd drunk earlier. She breathed him in as she closed her eyes, wondering if she would ever forget this particular fragrance.

  His mouth freed her finger to move nearer, just brushing her lips with his as he finished tugging her nightgown away. It fell unnoticed to the carpet as he finally settled their naked bodies together. His cock was a hard weight between them, lying against her stomach in readiness for what lay ahead.

  "Better." His lips were inches from hers, his hands stroking her everywhere at once, it seemed, and she was beginning to ignite underneath his skilled attentions. "I believe your late husband would qualify as a first-class moron."

  Every lingering caress awoke sensations that shimmered down her spine like summer lightning. "I cannot argue your assumptions..." Her voice trailed off beneath his touches.

  Yes, she had definitely done the right thing. Already she was feeling more than she could ever have imagined. And he'd barely begun.

  "I'm going to kiss you now, Mariah. Open your mouth for me. Let me inside."

  Obedient to his command, Mariah parted her lips and let his hand slide up to cradle her neck, positioning her where he wanted her.

  It started slowly at first, a gentle touch of his tongue swiping her lips. Then the feel of his mouth, warm and firm, pressing more deeply against hers. It was—exciting, this learning about pleasure. This kissing.

  For Mariah, whose sole exposure to kisses had been brief and close-mouthed, it was the first step alon
g a new path. A path she'd suspected might exist, but had never traveled. As the embrace deepened, she willingly welcomed his tongue into her warmth, exploring it with as much enthusiasm as he was demonstrating. It was like the beach all over again, but—this time there were no clothes at all...

  Suddenly, the fire erupted into flame and she wanted more—she wanted to devour him. Her hands found his shoulders and clasped them firmly, her body plastered itself to his and her hips began to move a little, obeying an urge she had no idea she even possessed.

  A moan tore at her throat as their lips parted and met again, roughly this time, tongues urgently seeking and finding a mate, dueling and thrusting in a prelude of what would follow.

  She barely realized that Marcus had lifted her to her toes and was moving her to the bed, so involved in their embrace was she. He could have carried her to the moon and beyond—she wouldn't have cared. As long as he kept kissing her like this, breast to chest, skin to skin, heat to heat.

  They tumbled together onto the soft quilt, limbs tangling and caressing, still enfolded in each other's arms.

  "God, you taste sweet." Marcus arched away and stared at her.

  "So do you." Past modesty now, Mariah reached for him to pull his mouth back to hers.

  "Wait. There's more." He slithered over her, caressing her with his entire being. And the weight of his cock brushed her thighs as he arranged them both more comfortably.

  Curious, Mariah reached for him, only to have her hand stayed in a firm grasp. "Not yet. I'm too ready. I need you with me, love."

  "Um, well—" Uncertainly, Mariah peered at him.

  "Let me play." His grin was sensual wickedness and naughty humor brought to vivid life.

  Objecting to a demand like that at a time like this? The thought never crossed her mind. "All right."

  Turning her back, metaphorically speaking, on every single moral value that had been dinned into her head for as long as she could recall, Mariah willingly slid into a world of desire and sex.

  She shifted her body so that Marcus could find whatever bits he wanted, when he wanted them. For this one instant in time, she would lay aside her caution, her common sense and her respectability. She would learn all there was to learn at the hands of a skilled lover and give as much as she possibly could in return.