“Why do I get the feeling you are working your female wiles on me?” Hawkhurst asked as he loosened the strings.
“Perhaps because I am. How else am I to deal with so irritable a grouch as you?”
“I am not such a grouch. I displayed admirable forbearance for not tossing you out on your ear when you snuck into my carriage.”
“So you did. You have been much more pleasant these past few days. My influence must be wearing off on you.”
The slight huff he gave was part scoff, part chuckle. Skye glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Can you blame me for making use of my feminine wiles? I am not ashamed that I have a knack for dealing with men. As Aunt Isabella says, we women don’t have the advantages you men have, so we must rely on whatever talents we possess.”
Hawkhurst’s eyes flickered with amusement again. “I won’t let you run roughshod over me, sweet wretch.”
“Of course you won’t,” she agreed congenially, but inside she was debating with herself. She well knew she couldn’t have her way as easily with Hawkhurst as with other men. But she intended to try.
When he had loosened her corset, Skye removed it, leaving her wearing only her shift. She meant to sleep that way rather than change into her nightgown. Disappointingly, he seemed impartial to her scant attire, for his gaze barely skimmed over her. Instead, he went around the room, putting out the lamps while she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her arms.
Hawkhurst paused another moment before joining her. Rather than move closer, however, he lay on his back, not touching her.
His honor was taking control again, Skye decided. To her, however, it did not seem at all dishonorable for them to share a bed. Not now that she was beginning to think of him as her future husband. Nor would it be shameful if they were to go even further. Yet convincing him of that would be difficult.
But what if she were to resort to more direct measures? Seduction might be her only hope in getting Hawkhurst to consider her as his potential bride, and more crucially, to fall in love with her.
Her aunt strongly believed that physical passion could lead to love. It was one of many kernels of wisdom Isabella had imparted to her. Skye very much wanted to make love to Hawkhurst, not only for the pleasure, but to force him to recognize the bond that already existed between them: a powerful, potent bond that made her body yearn at the same time it soothed her soul. She had never felt this sweet mixture of desire and comfort before—this delicious arousal warring with tender contentment.
Letting her eyes fall shut, Skye willed herself to relax. This was not the right moment, but when morning came, she would be prepared to take the next step.
Hawk remained awake for much longer. He should have known better than to stay the night with Skye, but the truth was, he could sleep peacefully with her beside him.
Or, he should have been more peaceful. At the moment it was pure torment, with his cock throbbing and ready to burst, his body aching to ease over hers and fill her with his flesh.
The bald reality was, Lady Skye Wilde fired his blood whether she was awake or sleeping. And having made love to her once made resisting her much, much harder. He wanted her more than any woman he could remember, including his late wife.
A disloyal thought, Hawk acknowledged. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt, not when it had been so long since Elizabeth’s passing.
Moreover, his desire for Skye stemmed from more than mere physical lust. He was actually startled by his enjoyment of their journey thus far.
Of course, it wasn’t surprising that this was the first time in months that he’d felt mentally challenged. Her quest to find her uncle’s lover had given him an intriguing problem to focus on. Worthy challenges were much less frequent now that the decades-long war with Napoléon was over; the Guardians were not needed nearly as much as in past years.
And Skye herself kept his wits sharp. He liked that about her, but her ability to always put him at ease unsettled him. Her tone was often warm and teasing, as if she’d known him intimately for years. Every time she used that provocative, affectionate tone, Hawk instinctively stiffened. Bantering—even flirting—was not his style.
The trouble was, he found her impossible to shut out. Since she’d appeared on his doorstep a mere nine days ago, she’d caused long-dormant emotions and desires to surge to life within him—almost as if he were actually living a normal existence again.
Her liveliness was a vivid contrast to his own bleakness, Hawk knew. That mischievous light dancing in her blue eyes was utterly delightful. And her smile … Each time she flashed that enchanting smile, something inside of him stirred, responding as naturally, as inevitably, as breathing.
She invited too much vulnerability, though. He needed to set strict limits on how close he would let her come. With her enticing power over him, she would constantly test his strength of will.
Intellectually, he understood her success: Lady Skye Wilde might be calculating and manipulative, but her manner was so charming, she made a man want to succumb. She used flattery and praise and reason to bend males to her will effortlessly.
No doubt her many beaus were at a severe disadvantage. Most normal men wouldn’t stand a chance against her. Hawk, however, was not normal. In his decade as a Guardian, he’d faced down numerous murderers, traitors, and other villains. Surely he could avoid being conquered by a delicate-looking enchantress who was doing her best to get under his skin.
Hawk rolled over on his side, facing away from her, and shut his eyes, knowing it would be a long night. He would likely dream of Skye, although his erotic fantasies were better by far than the haunted, twisted dreams he’d had since returning to England.
For that reason alone, he was glad for his decision to share a bed with her again. The physical pain of unremitting arousal was a small price to pay for such welcome release from his memories.
Sometime during the night, they moved closer to each other. As dawn broke, Skye came slowly awake to feel Hawkhurst’s arm encircling her waist, his face very near to hers. For a long moment she lay there luxuriating in his warmth. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her.
In turn, her gaze lingered on his beautifully chiseled features. The proud bones and angles were softer now; the contentment in his eyes unmistakable.
She relished that peaceful look. He was a man who had been in pain far too long. Alone, isolated, severed from any sort of pleasure in life. He wasn’t alone any longer, though, and it was time she made him realize it. They had comforted each other through the night, but she yearned for so much more.
The nearness of his mouth made her long to thread her fingers in his hair and pull him close enough to kiss her, but she settled for reaching out silently to brush his bare chest with her fingertips, feeling sleek skin over hard muscle.
His body tightened at that simple contact.
Not letting his instinctive resistance deter her, Skye eased closer and lowered her lips to press a tender kiss on his breastbone, near his heart. His hand rose to cup her shoulder, keeping her at a distance.
Her gaze dropped down his body to his flat, hard abdomen. Below the waistband of his drawers was an enormous bulge. She knew what that swelling meant.
“You are in pain.”
Her voice was raspy with sleep, and his was just as low and husky when he replied: “A natural response to sleeping with a beautiful woman.”
He wanted her, Skye thought with satisfaction. Although she doubted his desire was any greater than hers. “I am in pain as well. I am aching for you.”
Taking a shallow breath, she grasped the arm that was curved around her waist and drew his palm to her breast. “I know a remedy for our pain.”
Heat flared in his eyes, but he tamped it down. “It is not a remedy I can permit.”
“Would it really be so wicked if we were to make love again?” Skye asked softly. “We have already been intimate, so there should be no moral dilemma.”
His reply was drol
l. “You are overlooking the practical dilemma. At present we are waiting to learn if you conceived the first time. If not, I am not about to risk getting you with child.”
“But I know how to prevent conception.”
His eyebrow rose a fraction. “How would you?”
“My Aunt Isabella told me of an old courtesan’s trick. A woman can use sponges inside her passage to prevent a man’s seed from taking root inside her. Have you never heard of it?”
His mouth curved subtly. “Yes, I have heard of it. I just can’t believe Bella corrupted you so thoroughly.”
“She did not corrupt me. She wanted to educate me. Isabella believes women should have a modicum of power over men. Knowledge is power, in her opinion.”
Her aunt had outlasted three husbands and knew a thing or two about passion. After much begging, she’d shared her secrets of seduction so Skye could arm herself for the battle ahead. She’d wanted to learn how to make Hawkhurst love her.
“We needn’t have a full consummation, do we?”
Hawkhurst momentarily shut his eyes, as if striving for control. “We needn’t have any consummation at all.”
“I would never have expected you to be so craven,” Skye complained lightly. “You are afraid even to kiss me.”
At the charge of cowardice, irritation crossed his features—until he caught on that she was deliberately provoking him again. Then he laughed softly. Something he didn’t do often, she knew.
“Take care, sweetheart. You are playing with fire.”
“What if I am?”
“At some point, you will push me too far.”
“The prospect does not frighten me.”
Deliberately she reached down to fondle the swollen bulge at his groin. His jaw clenched as he held her hand away.
“You don’t frighten me, Lord Hawkhurst,” she vowed in an even softer voice.
Pushing himself up on one elbow, he stared down at her for an endless moment, searching her face. Then muttering a low oath, he lowered his head to capture her mouth possessively.
A feeling of triumph filled Skye. She had finally broken through his resistance. His kiss was hard and compelling, his mouth hot and tasting of need. For all that he strove to bury his emotions, he was the most passionate man she knew. His raw intensity set her senses whirling. She strained toward him, her breasts seeking closer contact with his naked chest.
In response, he cradled her face with his hands to give his tongue better access and kissed her deeply, ravenously, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. At his savage-tender assault, desire flooded Skye in a mad rush … but then suddenly Hawkhurst drew back and dragged in a shuddering breath.
Disappointment surged through her, but only fleetingly. Grasping the hem of her shift, he pulled the garment over her head, practically ripping it in his urgency.
She had riled the beast enough, apparently. Perhaps he was merely re-exerting control, Skye conceded. Perhaps he was tired of letting her hold the upper hand and this was his means of reprisal for prodding and teasing him.
If so, it was extremely effective. At his dangerous look, the pulsing quickened between her legs.
“You are wrong, darling,” he said silkily. “You haven’t begun to ache yet.”
Heat seared her as his fingertips skimmed the underside of her breasts. “What … do you mean to do?”
“To see how much more pain I can give you.”
His deep voice hinted at a smile, though, belying his threat of painful punishment. Suiting action to words, he cupped her breasts, his fingers spreading and fanning over the swells, his thumbs passing in scorching circles over her nipples. Pleasure shivered through Skye at the sensation of his hands on her soft flesh.
He plucked at the tight buds, pinching lightly and soothing in turn. Then his mouth dipped to her bosom. He kissed both nipples, laving the swollen tips with his silk-rough tongue. When his hot mouth closed over one peak, sucking it strongly, she gave a breathless whimper. The throbbing heat between her thighs was an insistent drumbeat in her blood now.
He wasn’t content with fondling and caressing her aching breasts, though. Slowly he swept a hand down her body, his reach stretching to graze her legs, stroking her thighs, seeking her feminine center. The trail of his fingers burned, while his tantalizing, arousing caresses sent a sweet arrow of lust streaking down below her belly.
He paused at the vee of her thighs before drawing his fingers between her feminine folds. Skye let out a soft moan as he spread a hot ache through her.
“Your first time I was too harsh,” he murmured. “This time I intend to make it pleasurable for you. I mean to make you scream with pleasure, love.…”
The soft words were tauntingly seductive, threatening and promising at the same time. They made her entire body clench in anticipation.
His lips abandoned her breasts then and left a trail of fever over her skin as he moved lower. Skye felt his warm breath dampen the golden curls of her mound, then the tender flick of his tongue over the bud of her sex, and she quivered at the shock of it.
For long moments, his tongue played in a leisurely dance, tasting her, tormenting her. Her skin seemed to melt under his erotic attentions. Under the intoxicating influence of his mouth, she felt weak and helpless. She had thought to seduce Hawkhurst, but he was the one entrancing her. His mouth enthralled her—
When he pressed his face harder between her parted legs, she whimpered and arched her back.
“Steady,” he murmured.
How could she be steady when he was touching her with fire?
His hands moved beneath her buttocks, holding her hips still, keeping her thighs spread wide as he went on nuzzling, nipping, suckling. Skye closed her eyes against the rush of ecstasy building inside of her. His mouth dazzled, his tongue stroking in relentless rhythmic stimulation that sent shuddering thrills through her pleasure-flushed veins.
He paused only long enough to ask a rasping question, his tone low and provocative. “Do you remember the feel of me inside you, angel? Pretend this is my cock taking you.”
His voice was maddeningly sensuous now, and so was the hot invasion of his tongue. Skye gasped for breath at the incredible feel of it.
Her breath coming in hoarse whimpers, she shut her eyes more tightly. She was unbearably hot, unbearably aroused. She heard her own moans as she writhed blindly beneath him. All she knew was the devastating heat of his mouth, the hot pounding of her blood, the fierce delight of what he was doing to her.
Suddenly, the pleasure was too keen to be borne. Frantic, she grasped at his shoulders. A primal sound that was half sob, half scream escaped her as wave after wave of shuddering pleasure ripped through her. Her body shook before falling limply back against the pillows, boneless with sensation.
Skye was only vaguely aware when Hawkhurst stretched out beside her. She knew he could feel the fine tremors still running through her though, for he was stroking her hair soothingly, caressing the curve of her hot cheek with a gentle finger.
Finally, Skye opened her eyes to find him watching her again. The perception and tenderness she saw in his eyes made her throat ache. She tried to speak, to say something that would praise his marvelous lovemaking, but her voice was too hoarse, so she contented herself with burying her face in his warm chest.
His arms came around her and drew her close. It was a long while before her ragged breathing slowed and her racing heartbeat returned to anything resembling normal. Only then did she become conscious that although he had given her astonishing pleasure, he was still in dire pain.
“I want to pleasure you now,” she murmured.
His hand, which had been drifting through her hair, went still. When she reached down to open the front placket of his drawers, he didn’t stop her.
Encouraged, Skye pushed herself up on her elbow. She badly wanted to reciprocate. Hawkhurst had set her afire, and she wanted to kindle an answering fire in his body.
When she parted the fabric, his shaft sp
rang out, heavy and aroused. In the growing daylight, she fixed her fascinated gaze on his naked loins, unable to look away. The huge, thick length was standing nearly erect between his powerful thighs.
Skye bit her lower lip. Her aunt had told her something about the male body, how to arouse a man, but putting theory into practice was another matter altogether.
“What should I do?” she asked.
“Whatever you like.”
“I want to see your body,” she said honestly, knowing she was blushing.
“As you wish.”
Raising his hips, he stripped off his drawers in one smooth motion, then lay back, allowing her to look her fill. She was captivated by the sight of his magnificent body … his nakedness, his intense beauty … virile, masculine, hard, corded with lean muscle.
He had invited her to do as she wished, and she was hungry to touch him, but still she hesitated.
“Run your fingers over my skin,” he suggested.
Obligingly, she let her fingers drift over his torso. She stroked his chest for a time before moving down to his sinewy thighs, savoring the exquisite textures of him, the heat and strength that was so profoundly male.
Feeling shy and daring at the same time, Skye trailed her hand upward again to brush her fingertips over his hard, silky flesh. When she let her fingers close around his hard member, his breath quickened.
“Stroke me with your hand,” he urged.
Skye looked up to find the eyes that were fixed on her face had grown darker.
“Like this?” she asked, lightly fondling his rigid, straining arousal.
His body tightened as hers had done moments before. “Yes,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She watched his storm-silver eyes as she explored, cherishing the pleasure she saw reflected there, the tenderness. She learned him with her hands, cupping the heavy sacs beneath his manhood, running her thumb over the blunt, velvety head.
When her fingers curled again around his shaft and squeezed, the whole length surged and quivered at the pressure. Yet Skye was not satisfied.
“I intend to touch you as you touched me …” she murmured. She was not nearly so confident as she let on, but she bent down to kiss his swollen flesh.
Secrets of Seduction Page 11