She trembled. Her lips pulsed gently against his own. The smallest pressure pressed against his hand, as if she thought to move her head away.
He could not allow that now. He embraced her with his other arm and turned her quickly, so she rested in his arms. She looked up in surprise, stunned by this change in position. He kissed her before she could speak.
Not sweetly either. He was beyond that. Beyond delicate lures and subtle games. He took her mouth hard, releasing a hunger that had been building for three days.
Her hand touched his shoulder and arm. Not in resistance. If she had thought to press and deny, that never emerged. Her hand just rested there, on the arm that circled and supported her body.
Hard now, furiously so, he seduced her mouth open so he could taste, explore, and possess. Her gasps and breaths spoke her shock and acceptance. Pleasure defeated her objections.
Yes. He ravished her mouth carefully, coaxing cries from her throat and sinuous flexes in her body. Yes. He laid her down and looked into blue eyes wide with astonishment. Yes. He kissed her neck, her pulse, and caressed down the side of that yellow dress while lovely sounds of feminine wonder sang in a halting melody of surprise.
Her form felt small under his hand. Almost frail. She did not fight his hold as he grew bolder, feeling her hip and thigh, smoothing along her leg, learning her body and seeing it in his head, naked beneath him, knees bent and raised and willingly open for him, for his hand and mouth and body—
The images compelled him. The desire owned him. He kissed down her chest to the top edge of her dress, then lower still to her breast. Her hand went to his head, to stop or encourage, he did not know. He kissed the hard tip pressing against the thin fabric and she cried in surprise into the breeze. He rose up and smoothed his palm over her breast and watched abandon claim her until her eyes glistened, unseeing.
He slid his hand beneath her, and felt for the tapes on her dress. Her eyes opened wider when it loosened. Her gaze sought the world. Sanity tried to emerge. He kissed her gently, then hard, while he lowered the garments from her shoulders and uncovered her breasts. Round and pretty, their hard, dark tips beckoned. He lowered his head and used his tongue to madden her.
Shock crashed into pleasure and pleasure into shock and neither could win in the confusion. She watched, horrified and fascinated, and aching with a frightening urge as his dark head lowered and his breaths titillated her breasts.
His bared teeth closed gently and a sharp arrow of pleasure shot down deeply. His tongue flicked and she thought she would die. She closed her eyes. This was wicked. Scandalous. Someone might even see them out here. She should stop this, end it, push him away. His mouth and hand made feelings cascade in her, however, that were too delicious to end.
He rose on one arm, and watched his caresses. He deliberately teased her, not unkindly, and saw the reactions that she did not know how to hide. “You like this,” he said. It was not a question. “And this.” His head lowered again and his tongue flicked at her other breast even as his hand kept devastating her. The sensations piled on one another, making her crazed and impatient.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her ear. “And this.” His caress slid down her leg, then up again beneath her skirt.
Alarm jolted her. She was not ignorant. She knew the danger now. His breath and mouth warmed her cheek and ear. “I will not know you completely, but this I will know and so will you. You are mine and this is mine and you will not stop me because you do not want to.”
His warm touch already undermined her fear and objection. The breeze on her legs, the caresses on the bare skin of her thighs, evoked desperation within the pleasure. He sucked on her breast and a deep ache of pleasure flowed down, pooling near the warm strokes on her thighs.
One touch. A stunning shock that made her want to beg for more of them. Instead his hand covered her mound in an intimate gesture of protection and possession, briefly. Then he touched no more.
The aching pleasure dimmed. The tightness in her stomach eased. She opened her eyes. He was looking at her. The emotions reflected in his eyes seemed dark, dangerous, and unresolved.
Her nakedness suddenly astonished her. She covered herself with her arms, and sat up to set her dress and chemise to rights. She groped behind her back while her face burned. He lay down, his head behind her, and she felt him fix the tapes.
Embarrassment and anger streaked like a rocket through her. She rose to her knees, turned around, and smacked his shoulder as hard as she could. “You promised!”
He caught her hand. “I kept my promise. You are still a virgin.”
“Barely.”
“You are too ignorant to know what barely means. Trust me, it is more than barely still.”
She scrambled to her feet and looked out at the sea. She could not find Summerhays’s yacht. Then she noticed it, tied to the dock.
“We must hurry. They returned.” She quickly looked about, horrified that perhaps in seeking them, Audrianna and Sebastian may have come this way.
Hawkeswell stood, brushed off his coat, and put it on. He picked up her bonnet. She snatched it away from him.
“You lured me here because you said you wanted to speak about my proposal,” she said. “Were you lying? Was this just more of the long game and the old plot?”
His severity had not softened. He still appeared much as he had when he caressed her. His blue eyes watched her too closely. Suddenly he was right in front of her, and that male mastery that he exuded assaulted her.
He pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her again, hard. The sensuality and familiarity of all those touches were in the kiss.
“There is no game. No plot. It was the same as with you and that damned boat. A rare opportunity beckoned, and I took it,” he said. He lifted her chin so he could look at her, and she had to look at him. “As for your proposal . . .”
She waited, holding her breath, praying she had not been wrong in seeing the decision she wanted earlier, before he got like this.
“No.” He said it thoughtfully.
“No?”
“No.”
She could not believe this. She had been so sure, from the way he had spoken, that he had accepted the sense of it. “Why not?”
“Because I say so.”
“Because you say so? That is all the reason I am to get?” She wanted to scream. This had all been a trick. A way to get her up here alone so he could . . . could . . .
She smacked him again, then pushed out of his hold and strode away. She stumbled down the rise, refusing his help, not caring if she fell or looked like a clumsy fool.
Chapter Nine
Hawkeswell tried to take consolation in having been more or less honorable. Doing so had been difficult and painful, and he tried not to mind too much that Verity had not appreciated his sacrifice.
His body did not appreciate it either. It gave him hell for hours. His arousal never totally ended, because every time he looked at her he saw pretty, snowy breasts with provocative dark tips, and a woman mesmerized by her first taste of carnal pleasure.
She did not speak to him the rest of the day. She pretended he did not exist. The unfinished sensuality hung between them like a thick mist that kept blowing in his direction at the least convenient times, leading to inappropriate thoughts and a revival of his erection, and to erotic plots that would probably make her climb down that tree tonight and disappear forever if she knew of them.
Why not?
Because I say so.
It had been a poor and inadequate reason. Stupid. There had been nothing else to say, however.
He could hardly explain that he had decided he wanted her, and that desire had vanquished his earlier decision. She would never consider satisfying a hunger, no matter how compelling, a good reason for denying her the life she wanted. Yet, it was all he had.
Audrianna and Sebastian noticed her pique. Their valiant attempts at light conversation could not alter her icy expression one whit.
She excused herself and retired early. Hawkeswell excused himself in turn, and went out to the terrace to smoke. He was deep in contemplation when another cigar’s glowing tip appeared beside him, and a hand set a glass of brandy on the terrace wall in front of him.
He and Summerhays puffed in silence together, gazing out at the flower beds where blooms swayed in the night air. The white and yellow ones caught what little light there was and dotted the expanse like pale sprigs on a woman’s dark dress.
“You can thank me,” Summerhays said. “Audrianna spied two people on the cove’s point and feared you were up to no good. She insisted on coming in at once, but damnation if the sails just couldn’t catch the breeze correctly to make fast work of it.”
“Thank you.”
“Your bride did not appear happy, however.”
“Neither am I. Such are the wages of doing the right thing and allowing the inappropriate time and place to inhibit me. If I had been less considerate, we would both be more contented.” He claimed more thoughtfulness than he possessed. It had not been consideration that checked him, but that damned promise he had made in the greenhouse in Cumberworth.
Summerhays chuckled quietly. “Time enough for contentment, I suppose. A whole lifetime.”
“Here I thought your clumsiness with the yacht meant you were an ally after all. First you advise seduction, but now you insinuate the wisdom of forbearance. The latter is your wife’s influence. Don’t look so indignant. Do you deny that she sent you out here? Is she above, comforting poor Verity?”
“She has no idea what happened. When she saw Verity, she assumed the two of you had only had a good row.”
“We did have a row. A short one. A few words, no more. But, yes, I think you would have to call it a row.”
“The storm will have probably blown over by morning.”
“Perhaps.” Probably not. “Row or not, I think that we will go to London in three days.”
They puffed away, their smoke snaking out into the night. Summerhays was good enough to talk about other things. He distracted Hawkeswell from thoughts of rows and discontentment, and vivid memories of the lovely passion awakening in Verity.
Verity spent the next day very close to Audrianna. While she tried to reconcile her shocking behavior with Hawkeswell, she also worried that she had lost the entire war through a demonstration of weakness in one battle.
She was almost positive that when he led her up to that grass, he had intended to say something quite different. Perhaps, after a good night’s sleep, he had rediscovered his more sensible inclinations.
She waited hopefully for some sign that he had changed his mind. But he did not address the question again at all. Nor did he apologize for what had happened on that little hill.
If anything he spoke to her, and looked at her, with a new familiarity, as if in having shared such a scandalous embrace, they now shared a private secret and sympathy. His presence pressed on her in invisible ways even when she tried to ignore him. Memories, both physical and visual, kept snaking into her head while she tried to pay attention to Audrianna’s chatter.
That night, when she excused herself to retire, he did as well. Her heart rose to her throat while she walked up the stairs with him two steps behind her. She hated what his presence did to her. Hated the confused reactions of anticipation and worry.
At the first landing she turned on him. “Do not try to kiss me tonight. Do not dare. You had enough kisses yesterday and I owe you none for today.”
“And you, Verity? Did you have enough kisses yesterday?”
“More than enough. Too many.” The way he looked at her made her legs weak. “I did not like them either. It was all very unpleasant. We do not suit when it comes to kisses either. You should change your mind on that no. You really should.”
He took the last two steps so he stood in front of her squarely. He displayed vague amusement at her protestations. “We suit just fine when it comes to kisses and pleasure, Verity. That will not frighten you so much after a while.”
“I am not frightened. And you are wrong. I hated it. I—”
His finger came to rest on her lips, silencing her. “Do I have to prove that I am right tonight? You are challenging me to do so.”
Her lips pulsed beneath that touch. Her whole body did, from his proximity and gaze. She gritted her teeth so she would stop reacting like a fool.
“I remind you of your promise,” she said, after turning her face enough to break that contact.
“I need no reminders. However, I may have to stay the night in your chamber, to ensure you do not take advantage of another rare opportunity to bolt.”
The suggestion alarmed her. Nor did she think he intended to sit in a chair in her sitting room. The scoundrel expected to again do those things that left her barely a virgin.
Sensations that she now recognized scurried with delight at the idea. Luring though they were, her susceptibility also dismayed her.
She could not allow herself to react this way if she wanted to have any pride left when they separated for good. She would never be able to convince him to change his mind if he kept kissing her and touching her like that. And eventually, when she married the right kind of man, she did not want to have to explain that this one had become most familiar before agreeing to let her go.
“No,” she said. “You will not. You know that in sharing a chamber you tempt the devil, and your honor will be the worse for it.”
He laughed. “How considerate of you, Verity, to worry about my honor on my behalf.”
“It is of such concern to me that I promise you will not need to stand guard. I swear that I will be here in the morning. Phrased thus, my promise covers all possible rare opportunities that might arise.”
Those blue eyes considered. They lured. Their color deepened. He smiled vaguely, in resignation. He stood aside, and held his arm out to the stairs.
“So be it. But run now, quickly, before I conclude that your pretty flush means you really hope I will be at your chamber door soon.”
Verity did not sleep well that night. Hawkeswell had not said that he would not be at her chamber door, in so many words, so she kept listening for him there. That she continued to flush for most of the night hardly endeared him to her, and she tossed restlessly, wondering how she would get away now, worrying that she never might.
The situation vexed her, and left her jumpy and cautious. She decided that she needed to claim some privacy even from Audrianna. Therefore, the next morning she rose at dawn and dressed in her plain blue muslin. She tied on her apron and donned a shawl against the morning damp. Then she made her way down to the courtyard.
The gardeners were already bending to their labors with hoes and rakes, shears and carts. She peered over their shoulders and observed how they pruned. She admired the rich loam that the head gardener carted in from a field that had lain fallow the last planting year.
She almost forgot about Hawkeswell and those kisses, and her embarrassment that he had seen her half naked, and his insinuations last night that she really wanted to feel that way again. Therefore, when all the gardeners looked toward the terrace, and the head gardener made a little bow, it annoyed her to turn around and find Hawkeswell standing there.
He appeared dark and serious and too interested in her. The sensations from the hillside echoed in her body as if he commanded them to.
He gestured for her to come to him. Taking her leave of the gardener, she walked back the length of the courtyard and up the steps to the terrace.
“Come with me to the breakfast room,” he said. “Audrianna and Sebastian are there, and I have news that they should hear.”
She followed him inside and around the corner to the breakfast room that looked out over the courtyard from the lower floor of one of the wings. Audrianna ate there, and Lord Sebastian was serving himself from the dishes on the big sideboard.
“I hope that your aunt has not taken ill,” Lord Sebastian said to Hawkeswell once they
were all seated.
“Do you have cause to think that she has?” Verity asked, surprised.
“An express rider came with a letter for Lord Hawkeswell this morning,” Audrianna explained.
“My aunt is in good health as far as I know. This news is of a different sort entirely.” He removed the letter from his coat and set it on the table. He looked at it, then over at Verity. “It is from a solicitor in London. Mr. Thornapple.”
“Mr. Thornapple? My trustee?”
“He had written to me at Surrey, then learned I was here instead.” He unfolded the letter and scanned its contents. “He writes to inform me that he was successful in obtaining a new inquest into the probable death of Lady Hawkeswell, born Verity Thompson. It will be held by the coroner in Surrey tomorrow, at the coroner’s house. It will be a first step, and an incomplete solution, but will position us well for any appeal to the high courts. He was preparing to go down to Surrey even as he sent this letter off.”
He set the letter aside. “We must go to there at once, of course.”
“You must take the coach and four. I will give you the names of the staging inns where our spare teams are kept,” Lord Sebastian said. “If the weather holds, you should be there by midday tomorrow.”
Verity looked on, dismayed, as they made plans. Panic fluttered in her. She felt as if she drove a team of horses herself, and had suddenly lost hold of the ribbons.
“What if we do not rush to Surrey?” Verity blurted. Her question interrupted some advice Lord Sebastian was offering Hawkeswell. Everyone looked at her.
“What if that express rider had not found this house? What if we were staying another day’s journey away from Surrey?”
“Do you mean, what if you were actually declared dead?” Hawkeswell asked. “We would then have to explain the mistake when we did arrive back in the county. It will be less complicated if a wrongful determination were not made in the first place.”
“Well, I think if someone is declared dead, she should be allowed to be so for a few weeks if she chooses,” she muttered.
Provocative in Pearls Page 10