“If I’m a water nymph,” she breathed, “then what are you?”
“The man who’s going to give the nymph whatever she wants.” He bent his head to tongue her nipple through her shift. “What do you want, sweet nymph? This?” He sucked her breast, making her gasp. “Or this?” His hand slid down to cup her bottom and pull her hard against him.
“I want you to . . . touch me the way you touched me in the inn,” she choked out.
His breath quickened. “Where?”
She hid her flaming face against his shoulder. “You know. Down there. I-in my drawers.”
With a chuckle, he slipped his hand around to the front of her and under her shift. She parted her legs to allow him access. As his hand found the tender place between her thighs, he bent her back over his arm so he could tease her breasts with his mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered. She grabbed at his shoulders to keep from falling back into the water as her eyes slid closed. “Like that. Oh, Giles, you are very wicked.”
“So are you, my lady,” he murmured against her breasts. He fingered her devilishly, making her squirm. “A naughty nymph that a man could drown in.”
He slid a finger inside her, and her eyes shot open. “Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“Absolutely certain,” he growled, then slipped another finger inside her.
A shuddering breath escaped her. It felt too good to be believed, even better than when he’d cupped her there in the inn.
“Hook your legs around my waist,” he said in a guttural voice, “and hold on to my neck.”
It took her a moment to get the position right, but when she was situated as he’d ordered, she realized she was fully open to his hand, his clever hand that was exploring between her legs in a most exciting fashion.
Giving her deep, soul-searing kisses, he worked her with his fingers and thumb. The water eddied over and around his plunging fingers, as if conspiring with him to caress her. It lapped over her breasts, making her nipples tighten and her body feel fluid, part of the pond, part of him.
And then she felt a tide inside her body, rising along her nerves, swamping her senses, making her want and ache and feel the most exquisite sensations. She tore her mouth from his, seeking breath, afraid of drowning. His hot gaze scorched her as she undulated against his fingers.
“That’s it, minx,” he rasped. “Ride my hand. Find your pleasure. Oh God, you’re so beautiful when you’re aroused.”
“Giles . . . please . . .”
“Whatever you want,” he whispered. “Take what you want. I give it to you gladly.”
The tide within her rose higher until she couldn’t distinguish the water she was in from the water that was building to a flood inside her, threatening to overwhelm her. Then it crashed over her in a giant wave that had her gasping and crying out and tightening her legs convulsively about his waist.
She hung there on him, shaking, weak-kneed, feeling as boneless as the water itself. “Good Lord, Giles . . . my word . . . what was that?”
“You found your pleasure,” he murmured. “Women find pleasure in lovemaking just as men do.”
Well, that certainly explained a few things. Like why women would want to be naughty. And why every time he touched her, she disintegrated into a mass of roiling need.
Then something occurred to her. “Did you . . . find your pleasure?”
“Not yet.”
That’s when she realized that her privates were resting upon the very obvious bulge in his drawers. “Could I . . . do anything to help that?”
He gave a choked laugh. “You could touch my privates the way I touched yours. God, what I’d give to have you caress me with your hand.”
Would you give your heart? The errant thought brought her up short. What was she thinking? Giles didn’t believe in hearts. He didn’t believe in love. He could only give her pleasure.
Still, he had done that, so the least she could do was give him the same.
“You mean, like this?” she asked, stroking along the hard length of him. Lord, but there was a lot of him there. Quite a lot more than she would have imagined.
“Yes, but harder,” he muttered. When she did as he bade, he gave a heartfelt groan. “Yes, like that. But put your hand inside my drawers. Grab hold of me.”
It was a little awkward to do that with her legs still locked about his waist, so she let go and stood on the pond bottom.
When she dipped her hand inside his drawers to close her fingers around him, he released a shuddering gasp. “Yes, darling, that’s perfect. God save me. Pull on it, up and down . . . a little harder . . . yes . . . like that . . . more . . . more . . .”
Suddenly his flesh spasmed in her hand, and he threw back his head and crowed, “Oh, God, yes! Minerva . . . my nymph . . . my sweet, beautiful nymph . . .”
He took her mouth then, kissing her with a tenderness he’d rarely shown before. It touched something deep inside her and made her want to weep. This was the Giles she’d fallen in love with years ago—not the self-controlled, cynical man she now knew who kept secrets. Why could he only be the old Giles when they were doing this?
And which one was the real one?
“That was wonderful, minx.”
It had been wonderful for her, too. That was the trouble. “What now?” she asked. What does this attraction between us mean? And does it end with this?
An odd, unreadable expression crossed his face as his eyes bore into hers. For a moment she was sure he knew exactly what she was asking.
Then he gave her a noncommittal smile. “Now I’m going to feed you.”
She let out a long breath. It was probably just as well that he didn’t answer her questions. She didn’t even know what she wanted to have happen. A secret affair? More of these dangerous adventures, knowing that in the end they ought to part?
Really, she shouldn’t marry him. Even if she was certain that he wanted to, it wouldn’t work. He would never let her close enough to really know him. Nor did she want a life where she was nothing more than the ornament in his professional crown.
Still, when he unpacked the picnic basket, revealing several of her favorite foods, it was hard to believe it couldn’t work. He could be so sweet and considerate.
Except when he’s hiding things.
She sighed. Yes, that was the trouble.
They ate quickly, famished after their bout of swimming and . . . other things. When he lay back and pulled her down next to him to hold her in his arms, she couldn’t resist resting her head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“This is a very pretty spot for a picnic,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I never knew it was here.”
“We lads were careful to keep it a secret. Didn’t want a bunch of children spoiling our fun.”
“Well, we wouldn’t have wanted to play with fellows as old and decrepit as you lot anyway.”
“I’m not that much older than you,” he said with an edge in his voice.
She glanced up at him in surprise. He was self-conscious about his age, of all things. How delicious! “No, not that much older. I daresay you have a couple of years before you have to resort to false teeth.”
“A couple of years!” When she grinned at him, he frowned. “That is not amusing.”
“Wait, is that a gray hair I see?” she teased, reaching up to touch his decidedly brown locks.
“Watch it, minx,” he growled, “or I’ll treat you like the child you are and take you over my knee.”
“A spanking?” she said. “Oh, that does sound interesting.”
Shock lit his face. Then he laughed. “I swear, you aren’t like any woman I know.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a very good thing.” He brushed a kiss to the top of her head.
They fell silent. After a while, the hot noon sun and the chirping of the birds lulled them both into a state of pure drowsy contentment. Then they dozed off.
Chap
ter Fifteen
The unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked brought Giles instantly awake. He looked up into the implacable face of the Marquess of Stoneville and then lower to the barrel of a Manton breechloader aimed right at his head.
This was bad. Very, very bad.
He felt Minerva stir beside him, then cry, “Oliver, what the devil do you think you’re doing? Put that away! You might hurt him!”
Stoneville’s gaze bore into Giles’s, cold as death. “What a pity that would be.”
“This isn’t how it looks,” Minerva said.
Giles tamped down a manic urge to laugh. “I doubt he believes that, minx.”
“Minerva,” Stoneville said, “you have about one minute to put some clothes on before everybody else gets here.”
“Everybody else?” she squeaked.
“Oliver, what do you think you’re doing?” cried an aged voice from the path.
“Too late,” Stoneville muttered.
Everything happened at once. With a shriek, Minerva dived for her clothes. Several dogs burst into the little space, dragging along Halstead Hall’s gamekeeper and an assortment of servants. Lady Celia came after them.
And Mrs. Plumtree appeared at Stoneville’s side. “You cannot shoot Mr. Masters!”
“Oh, I’m fairly certain I can,” Stoneville drawled. “I’ve got a pretty good bead on him.”
Giles groaned. His life definitely hung in the balance. If he’d found some scoundrel lying half-naked on the ground with his sister, he would have reacted exactly like Stoneville. Only he would have aimed lower. And he would have fired by now.
“But if you shoot him, how can he be any good to Minerva?” Mrs. Plumtree said.
“I’m not sure he can be anyway,” Stoneville snapped.
“I can if I marry her,” Giles said. “And I will marry her.”
“I don’t know if I want you to marry my sister,” Stoneville growled.
“And I don’t know if I want to marry him,” Minerva said hotly.
Giles’s heart sank as she came up to stand beside Stoneville, her eyes flashing fire. She’d managed to struggle into her petticoat and gown but had abandoned her corset and apparently couldn’t fasten her gown, which hung loosely on her.
Bloody, bloody hell. This wasn’t how he’d meant this to happen. Minerva hated being forced almost as much as he did. She was bound to be stubborn about this.
“If you are willing to roll about on the ground half-naked with the man, then you had better be willing to marry him,” her grandmother said in a hard voice.
“I’d rather shoot him,” Stoneville said. “Either now, or at dawn tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to shoot Giles,” Minerva snapped, “so just get that idea out of your head.” Walking over to her brother, she shoved the rifle to the side.
It went off, spitting a bullet into the ground a few inches from Giles’s head.
Giles sprang to his feet. “What the hell—”
“Don’t ever do that again!” Stoneville shouted at his sister as the blood drained from his face. “That rifle has a damned hair-trigger, for God’s sake!”
“Are you trying to get me killed, Minerva?” Giles growled.
“I-I thought it wasn’t really loaded,” she said, her face ashen.
Giles strode up to her. “Next time someone has a gun trained on me, would you please let me handle it?”
“But you weren’t handling it!” Minerva protested. “You were just lying there, looking as if you thought you were about to die.”
“Because I was, damn it! Thanks to you, I nearly did!”
“Quiet, both of you!” Mrs. Plumtree cried. “Good Lord, you sound like a married couple already.” Her gaze shifted to Giles, who was struggling into his riding breeches. “Are you going to marry her?”
“Of course,” Giles said just as Minerva said, “There’s no need for that.”
Minerva stared at her grandmother. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding. We merely went for a swim and had a picnic lunch. Then we fell asleep. I’m still chaste.”
“Save your breath.” Giles tugged his shirt on. “They’re not going to believe you.”
“And how did you find us anyway?” Minerva went on, ignoring Giles.
“That blasted Mr. Pinter has been spying on Mr. Masters for Gran,” Celia said. “He followed Mr. Masters to the estate this morning.”
Giles groaned. When Mrs. Plumtree had said she’d have Pinter look into his finances, it never occurred to him that the man might go beyond that. And how had he not noticed the fellow following him?
But he knew how. He’d been thinking of only one thing—meeting Minerva and giving her the taste of passion that she wanted. That they both wanted.
Damn it, this was what came of following his cock.
Minerva was gazing at her grandmother, perplexed. “Why would you have Mr. Pinter spy on Giles?”
“To make sure he was good enough for you,” Mrs. Plumtree said, a trifle nervously.
“I see.” Minerva planted her hands on her hips, which only made the gown droop more. “And what did he discover?”
“Mr. Masters is financially sound and is doing very well in his profession. He is even building a house in Berkeley Square. So you see, girl, he is not marrying you for your fortune. There is no reason not to accept him.”
“Ah, but there’s a very good reason,” Minerva said in a heart-wrenching voice. “He’s being forced into it. And I don’t want a man who has to be forced to marry me.”
“But he’s not,” Mrs. Plumtree cried. “He truly wants to marry you. He assured me of it himself that day when you first announced the engagement.”
“Of course he did. I told him to.” Minerva sighed. “Don’t hate me, Gran, but this whole thing has just been a ruse to—”
“Alarm me into rescinding my ultimatum,” Mrs. Plumtree said. “I know. He told me. He also told me that it wasn’t a ruse for him. That he truly wanted to marry you.”
Giles cursed under his breath. Could this possibly get any worse?
“You told her what?” Minerva said with a look of pure betrayal.
He stepped forward to grab her arm. “If you lot will excuse us, I think it’s time I had a private word with my fiancée.”
MINERVA’S MIND WHIRLED as they headed into the woods, her gown still deplorably half-fastened. Why had Giles told Gran about her subterfuge? And did that mean he’d really been serious about marrying her from the beginning? That he hadn’t simply been going along with her plans to shock Gran so he could get her to stop writing about Rockton?
What it meant was that he was every bit as devious and sly as she’d feared. And he had a plan of his own. She just had to figure out how she fit into it.
She stopped and faced him, noting the look of guilt on his face.
No, she had to figure out how to use it to her benefit. Because after this afternoon, there was no point in denying that she wanted him—as a man, as a companion, and yes, as a husband. But on her terms, not his. It was time that Giles Masters—and Gran—learned that she wouldn’t tolerate their planning out her life for her.
She stared him down with the cold expression she’d perfected for unsavory suitors. “Is it true? Did you tell Gran that I intended our engagement to be only pretend?”
His guilty look deepened. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Really? Because it sounds as if you’ve been conspiring with my grandmother to gain my hand in marriage. Even though I distinctly remember telling you that I did not want to marry you.”
He winced.
A horrible thought occurred to her. “You didn’t engineer this little scene of discovery by my family just so you could force me to marry you, did you?”
“No! I had no idea Pinter was following me.”
She eyed him askance.
He looked a little ill. “I swear to God I didn’t plan this.”
“And how am I supposed to believe you, when you’ve been l
ying to me all along?”
“I haven’t lied to you,” he said. “I’ve merely left out parts of the truth.”
She scowled. “I specifically recall asking you if you’d told Gran about my subterfuge.”
“Then you should specifically recall how I answered.”
She thought back to that day. What had he said? Oh yes. You promised to kill off Rockton. Why would I jeopardize that by scheming with your grandmother?
He really was a sly one, answering her question with a question to avoid lying to her.
What’s more, she remembered what he’d said when she’d asked what he’d told Gran: I told her I wanted to marry you. That I admired and respected you. That I could support you.
From what Gran had implied, that probably wasn’t a lie, either.
“If you didn’t quite lie, you certainly bent the truth. You knew what I thought.”
He stepped close to her. “I also knew you had a lot of baseless opinions about me that would keep you from agreeing to marry me. I wanted time to prove that you were wrong about me. To prove I could be a good husband to you.” Taking her hands in his, he pressed them to his lips. “Haven’t I proved that yet?”
Oh, he could coax the birds from the skies with all his sweet words. “All you’ve proved is that I can’t trust you. That you will always be scheming to run my life.”
“I have enough trouble running my own life, minx,” he said drily. “I’ve no great desire to run yours, too.”
“So this wasn’t about trying to get me to stop writing about Rockton? It has nothing to do with that?”
He started, then glanced away with a curse.
“That’s what I thought.” She jerked her hands from his, but he caught her about the waist, refusing to let her go, even when her gown slid half off her shoulder.
“Listen to me, darling,” he said in that low thrum that always made her insides flip over. “I came to Halstead Hall that day because I wanted to marry you. And yes, partly for the reason you say. But that wasn’t the only reason.” His voice grew husky. “I’ve wanted you from the day we first kissed. I just couldn’t find a way to fit you into my life until now.”
How to Woo a Reluctant Lady Page 18