Provocative in Pearls

by Madeline Hunter

  “Then why?”

  “You. I wanted you. I desired you. Two years ago you were a meek, quiet girl. But the woman who faced me down in Cumberworth—she raised the devil in me, and I knew how it was going to be. It is the oldest male reason in the world, and no excuse . . .”

  She considered its weight and cost while she fingered the edge of his shirt’s gap near his neck. Being desired by Hawkeswell had never been as lacking in significance as he thought. Both excitement and pleasure had played big roles in where they now stood. He had seduced her, but she had not refused to be seduced. Even now, in his arms, having this conversation that was long overdue, his hold affected her in so many ways.

  Desire, intimacy, comfort, protection—they were all expressed in the calm way his strong hands grasped and supported her, and in the thrills and ecstasy that he gave her too.

  “What is done is done,” she said, too aware that she accepted him with those words in a manner that she had avoided before. She experienced no regret in doing so. Instead, the acceptance released a surge of joy. “There are worse rocks on which to build a marriage than fortune and pleasure.” She playfully tugged at his shirt. “Since I have provided the fortune, I trust that you will take responsibility for the pleasure.”

  He laughed, and it made her happy to see his humor lighten. “If you continue to cooperate.”

  “Already you seek to shirk that responsibility and leave the duty to me. It is for you to ensure that I want to cooperate, Hawkeswell.”

  She turned to go on that saucy note. After she took two steps his arms imprisoned her and he warmed her back. His kiss scalded her neck.

  “You cannot throw down a gauntlet like that and expect me to let you walk away from the duel, Verity.” His caresses skimmed her body. “I think that the less I permit your cooperation, the more you will want it, considering your rebellious nature.”

  “I do not see how you can forbid it.”

  “Don’t you?” His voice warmed her ear. His hands cupped under her breasts. His thumbs rubbed her nipples through the cloth of her undressing gown.

  She began to understand then how he could prevent her cooperation. She could not embrace him while he stood behind her. She could only take the pleasure while standing on weakening legs. The sensations sank low in her body fast in this position.

  She reached behind her, to hold him too, to touch him.

  “Ah, ah,” he scolded. “No flanking maneuvers. I will have to find a way to stop that. This may work.” He plucked at the ribbons that bound the neck and front of her gown. His hand pulled at the bows’ ends one by one and the gown gaped more with each one’s demise.

  He eased the gown off her shoulders and down her arms until the fabric hung from her hips. The sleeves’ cuffs meant it did not fall off completely, however. She tried to reach one with her other hand but the fabric confounded her.

  “It appears that you cannot move much,” he said. “You will just have to take it.”

  Take it meant accepting his caresses passively while they stood there. His kisses pressed the flesh of her shoulders and neck. She watched while his handsome hands teased her breasts to unbearable sensitivity. Arrow after arrow of maddening excitement shot down but she could not even relieve the thrumming need with movement.

  He scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and rolled her over, so her face pressed a pillow and the cuffs imprisoned her even more.

  He stretched beside her, resting on one elbow, facing her. With slow care he raised the hem and skirt of the gown, and folded it at her waist until she was naked above and below a thick belt of fabric.

  His gaze drifted down her body. Slowly, almost languidly, he bent to kiss her back. Each kiss was a little pleasurable shock. She closed her eyes and wondered how something so small could affect her so profoundly.

  The kisses reached the small of her back and stopped. She opened her eyes to see him regarding her again. He slowly skimmed her back with his fingertips, but did not stop at the gown this time. Instead that light caress slid over her bottom and to her thigh and played there like a feather, torturing her.

  “You appear unbearably erotic like this,” he said, watching his hand move again. His palm smoothed over the curves of her bottom. Trembles of anticipation shivered deliciously. She was almost painfully aroused, and they really had not done anything much.

  His caress dipped down, between her thighs. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes and waited. He let her wait until she was half-mad, then touched surely, perfectly, and her breath caught again.

  “You are ready. So quickly.” He slowly stroked again and her whole body trembled. “Should I take you now? While you lie there so ready? Or have I ensured that you want to cooperate, as you instructed?”

  She did not understand. She looked at him, confused.

  “Cooperating does not only mean accepting or submitting to pleasure, Verity.” He played with the buttons on the cuff on her wrist near his hip. “Cooperating means giving and sharing too. Have I ensured you want to?”

  Had he? This was erotic. The passivity that he had forced excited her. He invited her to something else now, however. Something more, perhaps.

  “You are the one who bound me like this, so I could only submit or accept.”

  “The sleeve is loose now. You can free yourself. Or not.” He fell on his back and unfastened his own cuffs. “In a few minutes the choice will not be yours. Seeing you there, waiting and ready, I am thinking that cooperation can wait for another night.”

  She decided it would be submission that would wait. She pulled her arm out of the sleeve and sat up. She made quick work of the other cuff too, and fought her way out of the volumes of fabric.

  Hawkeswell had shed his clothes by the time she cast the undressing gown away. He reached for her, pulled her on top of him, and held her to the first real kiss of the night.

  Sharing, he had said. Cooperation. She knew that he liked when she kissed him. She made sure this kiss went both ways.

  She looked down at him afterward. “I am not very experienced. My cooperation may disappoint.”

  “It has not so far. Nor do I think it ever could.”

  She moved her knees forward while she knelt. She sat back on his thighs. Blue eyes alight with humor and sensual challenge dared her to be bold.

  She set her hands on his shoulders, then watched their paths as she slowly stroked down his chest. She splayed her fingers and caressed back up, fascinated by the firm muscles under the soft velvet.

  This would not be so difficult, she realized. She had only to do what he did, adapting for the obvious differences. Bracing on hands and knees, she kissed him, then moved her mouth lower, to his neck and finally to his chest.

  Feeling very bold now, she kissed and tasted. A sweet emotion stirred in her while she did. Caring. She wanted to give him joy, not just pleasure. She wanted him to feel how she was grateful for his caring too.

  The intimacy moved her in ways she had not expected. She did not know how to contain it. Kissing him, touching him, she could not run from it or put it away. Emotion filled her heart and drenched her and she could only press her lips to his skin again and again to release it.

  She sat back again and looked at him while she caressed. At his mussed dark hair and wonderful blue eyes. At the fire in him as he gazed back. She had accepted this marriage, and pleasure and fortune would be its foundations, but much more was inside her.

  Still, the pleasure and fortune mattered to him. And to her. She moved her gaze to his phallus, rising between them. She then glanced back at his face. His eyes and vague smile carried a challenge.

  She touched the tip, and knew at once what to do. She ran her fingers down its length.

  His head leaned back and he closed his eyes. Jaw tight and face hard with control, he accepted the pleasure while she caressed and rubbed and learned what pleased him. Her discoveries fascinated her.

  Suddenly he reached for her. Eyes hot and tee
th bared, he lifted her forward and lowered her.

  She held him so they joined, then let him fill her.

  She adjusted her seat. “It feels different.” Deeper, was what she meant. “I may like cooperation.”

  He smiled. “It is for me to make sure you do. Remember?” He stretched his arms toward her body and circled her nipples with his fingers. Down where she sat, a silent physical hum began in the flesh that surrounded him. The more he caressed, the worse it got. The lighter his touch, the more intense the sensation.

  She leaned forward and braced on her arms. Sliding up, she stopped right when their joining would be broken. Then she moved her hips down and absorbed him again. Wonderful pleasure shivered around their union. She did it again, shifting a little so he was in even deeper.

  His hands rested on her hips but he did not guide her. She moved harder, faster, trying this and that. The hum became something more, a deep awareness and heat that hinted at a new mystery.

  His hold on her hips tightened. Guiding now, he held her to his thrusts. She surrendered to the power of it, and met him breath for breath and thrust for thrust. The hum gave way to the most wonderful shivers. Unearthly sensations, unlike anything before, centered deeply where he moved in her. Then they rippled out with a compelling tremble. Almost immediately the ripple became one crashing, violent wave.

  She cried as it inundated her with its dark brilliance. She cried again and again when it broke once more during Hawkeswell’s final ravishment. It was unlike any release she had experienced before and it awed her.

  She collapsed on him, spent and disoriented, sore from the way they had shared without restraint. His arms wrapped her and he held her close, pressed against his chest, long into the night.

  He slept, but she did not. She looked into her heart, at the emotions of the last days. She turned and kissed his chest again, without him knowing, and lingered there, pressing her lips to his skin and feeling close to him in so many unexpected ways.

  She had accepted fate in admitting that this marriage would stand, whether she had chosen it or not. Had it been only that, though? If she could still get free, would she want to? The question shocked her even as she asked it.

  She did not know the answer, but she did know some things. She would grieve if they parted now. She would miss the intimacy and the passion. She would have never been this bold with Michael, or been this moved by desire. She knew that in having to stay in this marriage, she would not hate this life that she was not supposed to have.

  She did not move until Hawkeswell stirred. Then she slipped off the bed, and put on her gown to return to her room. He woke enough to notice. He reached for her.

  Bending over, she kissed him. “I think that it is time to return to London. I have learned almost all that I will ever learn here. But first I want to call on Lady Cleobury. I have been remiss in not doing so. Then we can go.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Lord Cleobury’s estate was the closest landholding to Oldbury owned by a peer to actually have a peer in residence much of the year. Most of the others were leased to farmers or to mines. As a result, Lord Cleobury occupied a position of considerable influence in the county of Staffordshire.

  “He normally attends county assemblies of any size or significance. The arrival of him and Lady Cleobury is always anticipated with excitement,” Mrs. Geraldson explained while they rode in the carriage past fields nearing harvest.

  “He takes his position in the county very seriously, and rightfully considers it his duty to keep an eye on local matters.”

  “I expect that he has a say in who becomes justice of the peace and coroner and such,” Verity said.

  “I do not believe that such a situation could be attained without his approval.”

  Mrs. Geraldson had inserted herself into this visit, announcing it would be a good opportunity to see her dear friend Lady Cleobury after some weeks apart. Colleen had then decided to come too. With protection such as this, along with the coachman and a groom, Hawkeswell had concluded that his own presence was not required.

  Lord Cleobury displayed disappointment at that decision. He condescended to receive the ladies along with his wife when they arrived, only to look in vain for his fellow peer to enter the drawing room too.

  “Most unfortunate,” he muttered upon hearing Verity’s excuse that Hawkeswell had decided to ride the county to get a sense of the mood abroad in it. “I could have explained matters to his satisfaction, and looked forward to doing it, so I might avoid going to town for sessions this autumn. Not to be, I fear. Not to be.” He turned his balding, narrow head to his wife. “You will have to come too, my dear. I daren’t leave you here with the rabble all around.”

  “I am told that you have made superior preparations for the rabble, sir,” Verity said.

  “I have at that, but it takes a man to command the wall, does it not? With my absence we will be vulnerable and I fear if this house falls, so does the whole county.”

  “Hawkeswell expressed an interest in your defenses.”

  “Did he, now? Pity he did not come, so he could take note of them himself. Surrey is not far from London, and he may need the same. If you will come with me, Lady Hawkeswell, I will show you that which is visible, and you can describe it to him as best you are able.”

  His wife did not move to join them. She engaged Mrs. Geraldson with a question, making it clear that she at least had seen his lines of defense often enough already. Mrs. Geraldson and Colleen sat to visit while Lord Cleobury escorted Verity out to the back terrace.

  There had been no exaggeration about his preparations. Four cannon of good size stood there, their long snouts extending beyond the low terrace wall. A pile of balls waited for the uprising.

  Did Lord Cleobury intend to fire these cannon himself? Or did he assume that his servants would fight to the death to protect his privilege?

  “Manchester is that way,” he said meaningfully, pointing toward the woods.

  “If the rabble march, would they not more likely take the road?”

  “They are more cunning than you suspect, Lady Hawkeswell. Far more cunning. I have mapped the most direct route from Manchester to this house, and I assure you they will come right through that woods and this garden.”

  She admired the cannon and complimented him on his shrewdness. “This county is fortunate indeed to have you here, sir. The rabble must get through you to pillage the rest.”

  “You assume they are only to the north. I regret to say they are all around us. Vigilance is required in every direction. A few more hangings are in order, I say, to remind men of the rights of property.”

  “Has that been necessary? The London papers have not reported such things out of Staffordshire.”

  “The London papers do not know everything. Rest assured that we do not allow seditious behavior here, and are quick to deal with it.”

  Do you make people disappear? Have there already been some hangings, that the papers and people do not know about? She ached to ask the questions, and to perceive the true character beneath Lord Cleobury’s avuncular demeanor and harmless-looking, thin person. Her heart thickened, because she feared that she knew the answers to both questions.

  She looked at the balls. Iron, and well made. The cannon appeared familiar too. Cast in one piece, they had been bored out. “Did you have these made at my father’s ironworks?”

  “I did indeed. The army thinks the cannon made there are superior. I count myself lucky that it is mere miles away.”

  “My cousin counts himself lucky for your interest and patronage in turn, I am sure.”

  “We have similar interests, my dear Lady Hawkeswell, and that is the source of any condescension on my part. The leaders in a county must stick together these days, despite their different stations. I hope that I am not so particular about the natural social order that I deny a fellow man in need when he is bedeviled by criminals.”

  “You refer to the trouble at the ironworks last winter
, when the yeomanry were called up. Your voice would have been helpful to that call, I am sure.”

  He smiled indulgently, and wiggled his eyebrows to convey mystery. “That and other trouble. I expect there will be more. Bertram Thompson knows what he faces. He saw it before most others, and is smart enough to dig out the roots before the poisonous vine grows. Have no worries for your cousin, my dear.”

  He returned her to the drawing room. She spent the next hour discussing the latest fashions in hats and bonnets, all the while hiding her aching sorrow.

  She suspected that Lord Cleobury, Bertram, and the other “leaders” of the county had two years ago dug out a root named Michael Bowman.

  She was not sorry to leave. She had learned what she came to learn, about her father’s legacy and, she feared, about Michael.

  She sent Bertram and Nancy a very short note announcing her departure. Other than Mrs. Geraldson, there was only one person who required a real leave-taking, and Hawkeswell took her to Katy’s cottage the afternoon prior to their journey.

  He escorted her to the door this time, and greeted Katy before excusing himself. Once more Verity sat in the only good chair and Katy on the stool in the little room that never seemed to have enough light.

  “I want you to come with me,” Verity said. “When I leave here tomorrow morning, I want you in the carriage beside me. Hawkeswell has agreed to it. You can live in the country if you like. His housekeeper in Surrey is a kind woman and you will not be ill-treated or made to feel unwelcome.”

  Katy’s eyes filled with tears but she smiled with joy. “You are still a little girl, aren’t you? To be worrying about your Katy, and you a countess at that. I can’t be coming, though. How will Michael find me, when he comes back?”

  “He will ask at the works, and they will tell him how to find you.” She gritted her teeth against the urge to weep. She was sure that Katy guessed Michael was dead, but did not want to give up hope. She leaned forward, and took Katy’s hands in hers. “You can wait for his return in Surrey as well as here.”