Scandals Bride c-3

by Stephanie Laurens

  Catriona sucked in a breath as his fingers lightly traced the line between her thighs. She couldn't suppress the impulse to squirm, and felt his fingers firm about her bottom. He held her still and continued to play, tracing the long lines of her legs through her fine gown. His touch was tantalizing, she was breathing rapidly-her heart thudding in her throat-when he reached down and caught the gown's hem.

  He lifted it slowly, then slid his hand beneath, the gown rose on the back of his hand as he traced, caressed, assessed her ankle, calf, knee, and thigh. He pushed the gown up over her hip, then, with complete and utter absorption, fell to caressing the expanse of thigh thus exposed. Beneath his fingers, a thousand fires sprang up, heating her, dewing her skin.

  Caught in his play, as absorbed as he, Catriona knew he was right. She didn't need him to shift her again, so he could study the copper-bright curls at the junction of her thighs, didn't need to feel his fingers stroke them, then part them, then slide past, into her softness.

  Didn't need him to look at her with unfocused eyes lit by blue flame and say: "You're just like that mountain-you're a volcano inside." He looked down again. "A dormant one perhaps." Very gently, he stroked the soft flesh between her thighs, which had parted of their own accord. "I'm going to stir you to life. Until passion pours like lava through your veins. Until you're hot and aching and wet. Until you're so slick and needy, you spread your lovely thighs wide and let me enter you. Fill you. Until I bathe in your heat."

  Catriona closed her eyes and felt her body surrender-felt the slickness he drew forth. Felt his fingers slide and glide, over and between the throbbing folds. Then his lips brushed hers. On a gasp, she kissed him back sliding her hands from where they'd lain passive against his chest, around and about, holding him to her.

  The kiss reached deep, then he drew back and chuckled-a wickedly devilish sound. "You're not like those ladies in London at all. The most intriguing thing about you is that you know you've fire in your soul."

  Eyes closed, her body so heated she felt liquid, Catriona felt him open her, felt him press gently, then slowly, deliberately, slide one long finger into her.

  She felt the invasion keenly, felt it in her soul.

  Welcomed it in her heart.

  He shifted within her, gently stroking; the sudden tension that gripped her eased. She softened about him, about his probing finger, relaxing against him, sinking into his embrace.

  "You're not a woman of ice and snow."

  She heard his words, and felt them, a breath across her temple, a deep reverberation in his chest. She tightened her hold on him, spreading her hands across his back, hanging on for dear life as if he was a rock anchoring her against the waves of heat beating through her.

  Waves he incited with every smooth slick stroke, every subtle twist of his finger, every probing caress.

  "You're heat-pure heat. Elemental heat. The heat of the earth, the purest fire."

  He was right-she was burning now with a flame hotter than the blue of his eyes. She'd always known this was how it would be-that passion for her would be hot and heated, steamy and searing. How she'd known, she didn't know, but the knowledge had always been there. And it had been so hard to hold the fire in, to quench it, tame it, hide it through all the years she'd waited.

  Waited for this.

  She was long past asking him to stop and adjourn to the bed. That would necessitate him taking his hands from her, and she couldn't bear that. His hands were pure magic, wicked fingers made to tease her, to light her fires.

  And there was a tidal wave of flame bearing down on her.

  She cracked open her lids just enough to find his head-to drag his lips to hers. She kissed him deeply, urgently, wantonly. Let her thighs part farther, urged him to reach deeper.

  Instead, he drew back. And chuckled wickedly again. "Oh, no. Not yet, sweet witch." He withdrew his hand from between her thighs.

  Breasts heaving, Catriona lay back in his arms and stared at him. "What do you mean?" she finally managed to gasp. "Not yet?"

  He grinned. "This is my dream, remember. You have to wait until you're frantic."

  Lips parted, she stared at him. "I am frantic."

  The look he bent on her was patronizingly dismissive. "Not nearly frantic enough."

  With that, he lifted her and set her on her feet between his thighs. Her legs quaked; his hands steadied her. Her gown slithered down to cover her legs, the bodice gaped. Catriona yanked the two halves together and ignored the teasing quirk of his brow.

  Once she'd steadied, he rose-and immediately tottered; she had to steady him.

  His frown was only fleeting; another chuckle banished it. "I must have had more of that whiskey than I'd thought."

  All but collapsing under his weight, Catriona, suddenly suspicious, looked up into his face. His eyes met hers, still dark as the night, his gaze still vague and unfocused, his lips were still set in that boyishly open smile.

  He was still… dreaming.

  Shifting her feet so she could better support his weight as he slumped, unrestrainedly heavy, against her, Catriona muttered a curse and struggled to ease him around the chair.

  "The bed," she stated.

  "Oh, indeed," he averred. "It's definitely time for the bed."

  His devilish chuckle ensued; she shut her ears against it. If she hadn't known she'd drugged him, she would have thought him drunk-he could barely set one foot before the other. Certainly not in a straight line.

  "Keep looking at the bed," she instructed as they lurched heavily toward the door. "Look-it's over there." Exerting all her strength, she managed to turn him and get them back on course.

  "Never had such trouble in my life," he said, not sounding terribly concerned. "Usually know precisely where the bed is." After two more heavy steps, he added: "Must be that whiskey. Hope I'm not too drunk to accommodate you."

  Gritting her teeth with the effort of holding him steady, Catriona didn't reassure him. And then wished she had.

  "Never mind," he murmured, and threw her a lecherous leer. "If I am too debilitated, I'll just tease you until the effect wears off."

  Catriona closed her eyes fleetingly and stifled a groan. What had she done? She'd willingly taken the principal role in the dreams of a rake. She must have been mad.

  But it was too late to draw back. Far too late. Aside from anything else, no matter how frantic she had to get, she wanted to reach the end of the hot, steamy, heated road he'd started her upon.

  She definitely wanted to be hot and needy, and to feel him enter her.

  Three more lurching steps and they reached the side of the bed-the opposite side to the one they'd started out for. Catriona was simply relieved. "There!"

  Swinging him around so his back was to the bed, she placed both palms against his chest and shoved. He obligingly toppled back across the bed-but took her with him.

  Landing half-across him, Catriona couldn't manage even a squeak. She immediately wriggled, fighting free of his arms but not of his hands-they were everywhere. She tried to ignore them. "We have to get you undressed." At least undressed enough.

  Predictably, he chuckled. "Be my guest." Flinging both arms wide, he lay back And grinned.

  Catriona narrowed her eyes at him and tugged his cravat free. She flung it over the end of the bed, then, kneeling beside him, grabbed the lapel of his coat. No matter how she tugged, she couldn't get it even close to his shoulder. Exasperated she sat back, and noticed that his chest was quaking, even though his expression remained guileless.

  She glared at him. "If you don't help me undress you, I'll leave."

  Laughing softly, he rolled onto one shoulder, then sat up. "It's impossible to get a well-cut coat off me without my help."

  Catriona humphed. She watched as he shrugged the coat off and sent it to join his cravat. Impelled by she knew not what, she reached out and ran her hands over his chest, pressing aside his waistcoat to explore the wide expanse. Beneath her questing hands, muscles shifted, rippled,
then set. He caught her wrists and yanked her to him, then bent his head and kissed her.

  She sank into his embrace, felt the heat surround her, rise within her, lick tantalizingly up her spine as he gathered her closer. With a mind of their own, her fingers quickly undid the buttons of his shirt, then slid inside, spreading wide over warm tight skin, over ridged muscles, hard bands of hair-dusted flesh.

  He broke from the kiss with a soft curse. From beneath her lashes, she saw him fight free of both waistcoat and shirt and fling them aside. She also saw one hand drop to his waistband, undoing the buttons there. Closing her eyes quickly, she reached for him, relieved when he captured her lips with his and kissed her witless.

  He shifted, coming up on his knees and guiding her back, down onto the bed. She sank back obediently, eyes closed, silently willing him to be quick.

  His weight shifted on the bed; she heard the dull thwacks as his shoes, then his trousers hit the floor. She kept her eyes tight shut-she definitely wasn't going to look. Then she felt him beside her; he leaned over her, and his lips covered hers.

  He kissed her deeply, commandingly-more intimately than before. He took her mouth as if she'd offered herself; in a way, she supposed she had. The claiming was complete, unrestrained-as if even asleep he knew she was his. His for the taking.

  And he took.

  Somewhere along the line, she opened her senses, let them reach and tell her what her eyes could not. She set her hands exploring, over the smooth acres of his chest, tight and hard under her hands and roughened by crinkly hair, then over the rounded curves of his shoulders. Flexing her fingers into the steel of his upper arms, she lifted against him, driven by his kiss-he was leaning far over her, his body, hot and hard, a mere inch from hers.

  He was lying beside her, his hip against hers, his body radiating heat and a sensuality that wrapped about her, about them, and shielded them from the world.

  And still he kissed her, reaching deep, asking for more and taking it. Emboldened, she met his demands-and let her hands stray lower.

  To his hip. Fingers reaching, she traced the wide bone, sensed the slightly different texture of his skin. And sensed the sudden hiatus in their kiss-the abrupt refocusing of his senses.

  Deliberately, she let her hand fall, fingers languidly trailing over his lower stomach.

  His breath hitched-he pulled back from the kiss.

  Just as she found him.

  Eyes still closed, she touched tentatively, surprised to find such delicate skin. And felt him quiver, then tense. Intrigued, she slowly reached farther, and wrapped her fingers around the heavy length. Every muscle he possessed locked.

  The one in her hands throbbed.

  Lips curving in a wicked smile, she stroked, and caressed, closed her hands and weighed, then explored farther still.

  He broke and caught her hands. "Sweet witch, you're killing me."

  The words sounded as if they'd been said through clenched teeth; she gave a wicked chuckle of her own.

  Only to have him kiss her voraciously, ravenously, until her wits whirled and she lost touch with reality. Then he drew back.

  "Now it's my turn."

  He swung over her, kneeling, his knees on either side of hers. Catching the hem of her nightgown, he raised it.

  Eyes closed, expectation hammering in her veins, Catriona lay still and waited.

  He pulled her gown up to her waist-then straight up to her shoulders, drawing her arms up, clearly intending to wrestle it from her.

  Catriona gasped and came alive. Grabbing folds of the gown, she tried to wrestle it back down. He didn't need her naked to-

  He chuckled, the sound even more evocative with her head wrapped in her gown, her body fully exposed. To the night, to him.

  "Actually," he drawled, "that's an even better idea."

  The gown shifted, twisted; Catriona waited half a second, then tried to move her arms, only to find them stuck. Her head, arms and shoulders were wrapped, trapped, in her gown.

  "Hmm. Excellent."

  The purring drawl had her biting her lip, had her tensing with expectation. An expectation fully borne out when she felt him lower his naked body upon hers. He shifted, sliding lower, his legs outside hers.

  "Positively succulent."

  She felt his breath against the soft skin of her breasts and wondered what he meant.

  The next instant, she arched wildly and nearly screamed as his mouth closed hotly about one nipple. He pressed open-mouthed kisses over her quivering flesh, then lovingly licked each peak to a tight bud-before torturing it with his tongue.

  Catriona fought wildly-just to catch her breath. When she finally thought she'd become used to the new sensations, he suckled one nipple fiercely-she screamed and melted anew.

  Luckily, the folds of her gown got into her mouth and muffled her shriek. As sanity returned, she realized his attentions hadn't faltered-she hadn't jarred him fully awake. When he suckled her other breast, she was prepared for the lightning bolt-the shocking strike of pure sensation. Her body arched, but she contained her scream.

  Panting, gasping, her body afire, she waited, desperately trying to imagine what he would do next.

  His lips drifted lower, leaving trails of fire down her body, over her waist. He pressed hot kisses to her stomach; she tensed, then relaxed as the trails continued down her thighs, first one, then the other.

  Then he shifted, moving back and away. Senses searching, Catriona placed him kneeling astride her calves. Then she felt his hands close about her knees and hit them, parting her thighs.

  After the slightest hesitation, she let him open her; catching her breath, she waited for him to cover her.

  Instead, she felt a feathery touch, then feathery kisses dotting along her inner thigh. First one, then the other.

  As what he might intend broke on her mind, she gasped and tried to clamp her thighs shut, only to find his broad shoulders between.

  He chuckled wickedly.

  And pressed a long, hot kiss to her damp curls.

  "Not yet, sweet witch."

  Then he kissed her.

  And licked her. And sucked so gently she thought she would die.

  Mindless, she threshed, trying to fight her way free of her nightgown; defeated, she tried to sit up-only to feel the heavy weight of his forearm across her waist press her down. Only to feel his other hand slide beneath her bottom and tilt her up. So he could savor her softness more thoroughly.

  And savor her he did. Long and slow, languid and devastating, his lips and tongue wove their magic, until fires burned under every inch of her skin, until her bones had melted and her nerves shrivelled and her wits had reduced to ashes. Until she was panting, almost crying in her need.

  She was hot, she was needy-she was ready.

  She was frantic.

  Then he pulled back.

  Richard!

  Her cry was weak-a demand and a plea.

  He shifted back onto his knees with a satisfied groan; the next instant, he smoothed aside the folds of her gown, searching for her hands. Their fingers touched, and locked; he drew her up so she was sitting.

  Catriona swung her legs under her so she was kneeling, too-but before she could push her gown down, he whisked it off over her head. Aghast, she watched it float over the end of the bed.

  She looked at her tormentor.

  Which was a big mistake.

  Fully dressed, he was intimidating. Naked, he was mesmerizing. Fascinatingly, mind numbingly male-a potent, powerful presence just waiting to claim her.

  In all that had led to this moment, she had steadfastly refused to let her mind form any picture-to imagine how he would look naked, without the civilized cloak he wore when he stalked the world. Dragging in a tight breath, she wondered if imagining might have been better-might have better prepared her to face this.

  To her mind, to all her senses, he was magnificent, his long, lean frame covered with taut muscle. The sight of him stirred her powerfully, unfurled some prim
itive emotion in her.

  She gulped, and forced her gaze upward, relieved to see his boyish grin still in place.

  "That's better."

  While her eyes had been roaming, so had his, with very evident results. He reached for her, she tried to hold back but her knees slid across the sheets. To her surprise, he didn't gather her into his arms, but, sinking back on his ankles, stopped her with her knees against his and eased her back so she was sitting as he was, on her ankles, knees wide.

  He grinned, his expression the very essence of male sexual expectation. "Next installment."

  Her wits long gone, her senses reeling, she couldn't even summon a frown. "Installment?"

  His hands closed over her breasts, confident and firm. His thumbs rubbed her tightly budded nipples, her body came instantly alive. Her lids fell of their own accord as she arched lightly, pressing her breasts into his palms. "What do you mean?"

  "I want to see how high you can go-how high I can take you before you shatter."

  She struggled to frown, struggled to make sense of his words, and couldn't. Not with his hands on her breasts, then roaming her body, her sides, her thighs, quiveringly tight.

  Then he stroked her soft curls, then slid long fingers past to stroke her there, where she was hot and molten. Two fingers pressed in and filled her, then retreated; he circled her entrance, then pressed-and she gasped. His fingers slid away, and played, then returned to the same excruciatingly sensitive spot, and pressed again.

  White light flared behind her lids. And suddenly, Catriona understood. She grabbed his wrist-and felt, beneath her fingers, the seductive shift of tendon and muscle as he probed her-slowly, deliberately, evocatively.

  She snapped open her eyes and looked at his face. Harsh-edged with passion, the planes were set. Fully aroused, his gaze was locked on where his hand worked between her thighs.

  She couldn't believe her senses. "You're teasing me? Like this?"

  He looked up and met her gaze. His was still clouded, his eyes like black pools; if anything, the hold of the drugs was deepening. Then he smiled-the same boyish smile. "I've been itching to sink into you since first I set eyes on you-I've been aroused virtually every minute I've spent in your sight. Being around you, especially every time you put your pert nose in the air, has been torture I thought I'd give you a dose of your own magic before I ease my pain." His smile grew soft, distinctly dreamy. "And as for this"- he pressed again; Catriona gasped and swayed-"I plan on teasing you a lot more yet."