Then he proceeded to bathe her, making Tess understand why so many women longed to be his lover.
She had never seen this playful side of Ian, nor had she ever been the sole target of his wicked, seductive charm, even though undoubtedly he had used it to devastating effect on other members of her sex.
“You can be exceedingly charming when it suits you,” she said tightly as he washed her aching breasts.
“Indeed.”
The corners of his fascinating mouth turned up in a slow smile that was full of sin. Tess was nearly undone by that smile, but she forced herself to think of something other than his enchanting attentions.
“I suppose all your mistresses were exquisite beauties,” she observed.
“Are you fishing for compliments, love?”
“Not at all.”
“You compare favorably with any woman I have ever known.…”
As if to prove his point, he began commenting on each part of her body as he washed and rinsed her inch by inch, punctuating his observations frequently with his mouth as well as his hands. Her blood was pounding by the time he finished.
As his husky laughter caressed her nipple, Tess pulled back and commandeered the soap and cloth. She washed him in turn, pleased that Ian was obviously as aroused as she felt, judging from the size and hardness of his swollen male member.
When they emerged from the bathtub clean and dripping wet, he resumed control and used a towel to dry her off, paying particular attention to the sensitive folds between her legs. A shock of fierce pleasure shot through her nerve endings when he cupped her sex, then sank two fingers into her, his teasing slow and deliberate.
“Wicked man,” she said in a strangled voice, closing her own fingers around his thick shaft.
“Wicked woman,” he countered with a low, devilish laugh.
She held on for another moment, marveling at the hard length of him, before reaching for another towel to dry his skin.
When she was done, they left the damp towels behind and returned to his bedchamber, where they faced each other. Ian’s gaze held hers, and Tess could only stare back, enthralled by the challenge in his eyes.
The battle lines were clearly drawn, but she intended to meet his challenge measure for measure. Ian was an expert at lovemaking; if she hoped to remain unscathed by their love games, let alone be victorious, she would have to become much better at arousing him.
Reaching up, Tess unpinned her hair and shook her head, sending the long tresses tumbling over her bare shoulders. His gray eyes darkened with a heated look that only fed the aching need inside her.
Taking a step toward him, she ordered him to lie down on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Ian obeyed. Moving to the bedside, Tess stood staring down at his splendid nude form.
She had kissed his body briefly yesterday. Now she wanted to explore him at her leisure, to learn him with her hands, to taunt him until he lost control.
She wanted to make him feel the same wonder as she felt, the same melting need.
In short, she meant to make him beg for her.
* * *
Ian felt a sharp jolt of desire for Tess, but he clamped down on his own need for the time being. All his instincts warned him to allow her at least the illusion of control. He wanted Tess to know passion, to feel the savage pleasure he could give her, yet he could perhaps accomplish his aims best by allowing her to explore her wild side at her own pace.
Therefore, when she stood there looking enticing and oh so female, he kept his hands firmly at his sides.
She leaned closer, however, her full breasts dangling above him, pale and perfect, her dark hair swinging forward in a silky wave. He wanted to pull her down on top of him and kiss those lush breasts, to bury his face in that gleaming sable mass.
He reached for her then, yet her hands pressed down on his shoulders insistently. “No, I mean to do this.”
He lay back, pretending quiescence.
Easing onto the bed, Tess knelt between his spread legs and bent over him. Ian nearly shuddered, feeling the silky strands of her hair against the skin of his chest. And then she pressed her lips against his bare shoulder.
She kissed his entire body slowly, deliberately sweeping her hair over him as she moved lower, letting her taut nipples graze him as well. He was already heavily aroused, his rigid cock rising toward his belly, but he hardened even further when she swirled her tongue over the sensitive area of his inner thighs. Then she moved back up his body, her lips trailing fire over his flesh.
When she bypassed his loins, he grasped her hand and guided it to his erection, wanting her to feel how ready and swollen he was for her. When Tess raised her head briefly, he could see by her pleased smile that she knew very well what her touch did to him.
Bending down once more, she attended to him again, her mouth sweet and hot and demanding as it covered his body, her tongue tentative at first, but then growing bolder. The pleasure that rippled through Ian in the wake of her taunting kisses was savage enough to make his heart pound.
It required almost Herculean effort for him to lie totally still while she attended him, licking, stroking, tantalizing.… She paused to flick his male nipples with her tongue before returning to his mouth, delivering a featherlight kiss that made his stomach clench in a mixture of tenderness and gut-wrenching desire.
The coiling tension tightened even further as Tess moved downward again, her tongue skimming along his throat, exploring his chest, dipping into his navel, gliding over his belly to his groin. When she finally touched his shaft with her lips, his breath caught in his lungs.
He sensed rather than saw Tess’s smile of satisfaction. Her fingers cupped the heavy sac of his testicles, brushing the seam-like line underneath, then molded over his hardness. The thick length surged in her hand, sending a fierce, fiery ache shooting through him and making him reach for her.
“Be still,” she commanded in a husky voice as she raised her head.
She held his gaze, looking directly into his eyes before she lowered her head once more. His heart slammed against his ribs as her warm, wet mouth closed around him fully, and he groaned with the sheer pleasure of it.
Tess suckled him, her grasp firm as she tasted his rigid flesh, her touch inflaming him with need. His fingers dug into the mattress as he fought for control. Every muscle he possessed was quivering, straining with hunger.
She went on arousing him, though, her hands a continuation of her mouth, stroking, squeezing, exciting, while her tongue stimulated him relentlessly. The lash of pleasure was almost cruel. His body shuddered under the exquisite impact of it.
Arching against the delicious torment she inflicted, Ian started to slide himself slowly between her lips, his hips rising reflexively off the bed.
“Tess.” He grated her name between his teeth. “I want you … now.”
She only increased the searing rhythm of her mouth.
“Sweet God, Tess …” He said it like a caress, like a curse.
“Not yet,” she paused to murmur, repeating his own words. “The pleasure will be greater if we delay.”
His patience was limited, though, and so was his control. It almost hurt to breathe, he was holding himself so tightly in check.
Then Tess suckled him harder, and Ian lost even that tenuous thread of his willpower. His control breaking, he grasped her shoulders and drew her up to claim her mouth with an almost violent pressure. This kiss was not about power, though. It was all about hunger and need.
Tess was suddenly straining against him also, as if she’d die if she ceased touching him, ceased kissing him.
Reaching between her thighs, Ian stroked her sex, probing urgently. The cream of her arousal soaked his fingers in an instant. Tess whimpered, and when he delved even deeper, she gave a soft sob.
He rolled her over then and covered her body with his. He felt her sigh burst against his lips as he entered her in one long, slow thrust.
Ian sighed harshly himself as her lush
folds enveloped him, creamy hot and wet. It was like plunging into molten honey, and it was his undoing.
His body bucked just as she went rigid and began to sob. Groaning, he preceded her shivering convulsions in a climax that was bright and brilliant and explosive, her sweet cries of pleasure mingling with his hoarse shout of release.
When their shudders at last subsided, Ian collapsed to one side of her shoulder, barely having the strength to spare Tess his weight. He could scarcely believe his lack of control. No other woman had ever affected him this strongly.
Yet he no longer marveled at his wild physical response to Tess. The powerful sexual drive churning in his blood was matched only by his possessiveness. Already he wanted her again—yet he had to remember her inexperience. He had to be gentle with Tess, at least until she could grow accustomed to the demands he made on her body.
Easing off her, he drew Tess’s naked form against him, lying with her head on his shoulder.
The sigh she gave was sated and content, although her voice was hoarse and held a teasing note when she spoke. “Admit it, Ian, you came very close to begging me.”
Indeed, he had. But he would not share that thought aloud. “I would say we came to a draw this time.”
She glanced up at him, her mouth fighting a smile. “Very well, I will acknowledge a draw. But if I am to have a fair chance at winning, you must teach me more about passion.”
“What more do you need to learn? Your knowledge seems more than adequate now.”
“Not adequate enough. You have a vast advantage over me. If you show me the secrets of being an ideal lover, it will put us on more equal footing.”
He pressed a light kiss on the crown of her head. “I will be happy to oblige, darling. I am surprised you know so little about lovemaking,” he added absently.
Her eyebrow lifted. “Why would you be surprised? Setting aside the fact that ladies are supposed to remain chaste until after marriage, where would I have gained any experience?”
“From Richard. I would never have thought he would be slow in that arena.”
Ian felt Tess stiffen at the mention of her betrothed.
“Richard was a gentleman,” she replied in his defense. “He never attempted more than a kiss or two. And we never had much opportunity for anything else. He was away with his regiment for much of the time we were betrothed.”
Ian’s jaw hardened for a moment. He was infinitely glad his cousin hadn’t had the chance to spoil Tess’s innocence. But he should never have brought up the subject.
Seeking to distract her, Ian drew a finger over her swollen lips. “So you wish me to share my secrets, hmmm? Where would you like to begin?”
Tess allowed him to divert her attention, even though the reference to Richard had unsettled her. Eventually they fell asleep from sated exhaustion, but later when she woke from a doze, as she lay beside her sleeping husband, her thoughts returned to her late betrothed.
Her marriage was nothing like what she’d dreamed of when she accepted Richard’s proposal. She had loved him a great deal, both as a friend and future husband, yet she honestly had never felt much passion for him. Certainly not the kind of fiery sparks she always felt for Ian.
Richard had been kind and gentle and sweet and compassionate. He frequently made her laugh, and even when she was vexed with him, he always managed to charm her out of her ill mood.
Ian, on the other hand, made her burn for him and yearn for something more exciting and fulfilling.
Still, despite the danger of being swept up in an ardor beyond her control, she could justify her decision to share his bed, Tess reflected defensively. Simply because Ian could arouse her body did not mean she would lose her heart to him.
Yes, he made her feel a fierce desire for him. It was also true that he fired her emotions by challenging her, that he forced her to feel.
But she relished that exhilarating sensation and had no intention of giving it up. She would never return to that numb state she had existed in for the past two years, Tess vowed. She refused to let life pass her by, to grow old wondering what might have been.
Her hopes of having a loving marriage would likely elude her, but at least she could have passion.
Moreover, she was not as vulnerable now, Tess knew. It was quite possible that she’d fallen so earnestly in love with Richard because she had recently lost both her parents, but she was much stronger now, and fully on her guard.
Hearing Ian’s quiet breathing, she opened her eyes and studied him as he slept. His striking features were softer in repose, but she would not make the mistake of thinking he had a heart.
After today’s sensual battles, she felt much more optimistic that she could enjoy their nuptial bed, but keep their physical relations from leading to anything more intimate. Especially if Ian was willing to teach her how to be his ideal lover. She was a quick study, and she would use his expert skills to further arm herself against her handsome husband.
With that comforting thought, Tess once more closed her eyes and slept.
Ian believes me to be softhearted and idealistic, but it is only right that we help those who most deserve our compassion.
—Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard
Ian continued her lessons in passion that afternoon, although making allowances for the unaccustomed tenderness of Tess’s body. Her overheated senses were still throbbing when she returned to her own bedchamber later to dress for dinner, and it required significant effort to focus on such mundane tasks as ringing for her maid and choosing what gown to wear.
Alice was arranging Tess’s hair when Fanny knocked and wandered into the room. Giving a big yawn, Fanny said she had just risen from a nap after being up a good part of the night guarding the cave—which had all been for naught.
“It is disheartening that our efforts yielded no results,” the courtesan complained. “We saw nothing of any smugglers last night, or anyone else for that matter.”
Tess started to reply that it was too early to deem their plan to catch the smugglers a failure, but a sudden muffled cry interrupted her.
All three women started at the strange sound, although only Alice vocalized her fear.
“Was that the ghost?” the maid breathed in a hoarse whisper.
When the eerie cry came again from near the hearth—something between a groan and a tormented scream—the hair on the back of Tess’s neck stood up.
Alice exclaimed, “Heaven save us,” while Tess rose from her dressing table and moved cautiously toward the hearth.
“Your grace … please, take care,” Alice pleaded.
“I will,” Tess murmured in return. “But I believe that was a human sound and not one made by a ghost.”
She picked up a fire iron to use as a weapon and approached the secret panel they’d discovered the previous day. With a glance behind her, she saw that Fanny had also armed herself with a large china figurine.
Inhaling slowly to calm her pounding heartbeat, Tess pressed on the catch point and slid the panel aside. The passageway was fairly dark, but she could hear the rough rasp of labored breathing to her left.
Gripping the iron harder, Tess peered inside. To her astonishment she saw a form lying there, a man from the looks of it. Since he was shifting restlessly on his back, he clearly wasn’t dead, but appeared to be asleep. Just then he cried out again, likely in the throes of a nightmare.
Repressing a wince, Tess called softly over her shoulder, “Alice, there is a man slumbering in the passageway. Go and fetch the duke—quickly. And send whatever footmen you can find. I think we have solved the mystery of our castle ghost.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Alice hurried to do her bidding. Tess sank down on her knees and inched a bit further inside the passage, although keeping the iron in front of her.
The sleeping man was dressed in a ragged coat and trousers and emitted the foul odor she recognized from her bad dream. She was debating whether to wake him when he abruptly opened his eyes and struggled
to sit up. Upon seeing Tess, he shrank back in alarm.
The left sleeve of his coat was half empty, she noted. He was missing much of one arm, and his features were gaunt and grimy as well as being flushed with fever.
Tess’s fear suddenly diminished a measure, to be replaced by a powerful rush of pity. She had seen too many such men over the past two years. Forlorn relics of humanity lying in hospital beds—if they were fortunate enough to even have beds. Former soldiers and seamen dressed in rags and missing limbs, their grimy, unwashed bodies mere skin and bones, their tormenting memories making them cry out in their sleep.
When her bedchamber door swung back with a bang to admit a footman, the one-armed man shrieked and cowered in fear. That, too, was indicative of soldiers who had seen the horrors of battle.
Tess quickly held up a hand behind her to stay the servant, and said in a low soothing voice to the frightened man, “It is all right, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
He blinked in the dim light. “Sal, is that you?”
Tess hesitated, wondering if she should pretend to be someone else to ease his apprehension. “Won’t you come out, please?” she coaxed instead. “You must be chilled sleeping in there on the hard floor.”
“Eh?” He turned one side of his face toward her. “I canna hear too well in one ear.”
Raising her voice, she repeated her request. When he nodded, Tess backed out but remained on her knees, trying to appear unthreatening.
The man eventually crawled out from the passageway, but stayed hunched down, like a wary animal, his eyes darting around the room until finally coming to rest on Tess. “You are not Sal.”
“No, my name is Tess,” she said gently.
“I thought ye were Sal … my daughter.”
“What is your name, sir?”
“Ned … Ned Crutchley.”
“Were you a soldier, Ned?”
“Aye, a gunner. Served with the Royal Artillery under General Lord Mulgrave.”
Which doubtless explained his loss of hearing, Tess reflected. The continuous explosions from cannon bombardments had deafened many a gunner.
To Desire a Wicked Duke Page 18