He groaned. “None of that. Lie on your side facing away from me, you stubborn wench.”
His words rather stung, so Tia snatched her hand away and did as he’d directed, giving him her back.“Very well. You needn’t be so cruel, you know.”
“I’m not being cruel,” he gritted, his lips so near to her ear that they grazed the delicate shell as he spoke. “I’m being practical. You need warming, and this is the best way to accomplish that without causing a repeat of last night.”
“Oh,” she said simply, stiffening as his arms wrapped around her. His broad chest branded her back, but he kept his lower body away from her. It would seem that, as much as he might clearly want her, he was equally determined not to give in to his baser instincts. Disappointment skewered her. She couldn’t help it. She knew it was likely for the best for both of them, that further lovemaking between them would only be pure folly. But that didn’t mean her body didn’t long for him just the same.
“Good Christ, woman. I’m doing my damnedest to be noble,” he muttered.
He wanted to be noble, did he? She shimmied backward, not stopping until her bottom connected with his groin. His cock remained hard and ready, pressing against her. “It’s a tad late to be noble.”
“You agreed that a repeat of last night would be foolishness,” he reminded her. But as he said the words, he thrust his cock against her bottom. “Are you warming, Lady Stokey?”
“Slowly,” she said, biding her time. Something about the remote nature of the cabin banished all thoughts of propriety and promises from her mind. All that existed for her was the duke at her back, hot and hard and, most importantly, hers. It was as if they were removed from the sphere of the house party. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to berate them, no one to remind them that sanity and society both dictated that they behave as strangers in a drawing room and not as feverish lovers.
He rubbed his palms over her arms. And then he kissed her ear. “How about now?”
“A bit.” She feigned another shiver when one wasn’t easily forthcoming. Perhaps it was subterfuge, but she deemed a minor, harmless deception a fair weapon in her arsenal. After all, her distracted state was what had led her to be thrown from her horse earlier, and that had been wholly his fault. If he had been noble from the first moment they’d crossed paths in the garden, she would never have known the fire that she was missing.
He continued rubbing her arms, even throwing one of his long legs over hers. His breath was hot against her neck. “And now?”
“Slightly.” In truth, he was warming her more than any mere flame ever could. But he needn’t know that.
He kissed her ear again and then her throat. “Are you trying to torture me, darling?”
She shivered, but this time it had nothing whatsoever to do with being cold. “Of course not. Did you not say you were trying to be noble?”
“Yes,” he gritted. His thumb skimmed over one of her nipples.
“But you just kissed my ear twice,” she argued. “And I’m certain that touch I just now felt was not unintentional.”
“What touch?” His tone was one of feigned innocence.
Perhaps she wasn’t the only one reveling in their game. She caught his hand and pressed it to her breast. “One like this.”
“Tia.” His voice was low, seductive and rough, at once whiskey and silk to her senses.
He was warning her, she knew. If she pushed him one inch more, he’d fall off the ledge and take her with him. “Heath,” she returned, enjoying his name on her tongue. “I don’t think I want you to be noble just now.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” She guided his other hand to the apex of her thighs.
He made a low sound in his throat, his fingers expertly dipping into the folds of her sex to find the sensitive bud hiding within. “I thought we agreed further behavior of this nature would be inadvisable.”
“Indeed.” It would seem she could only manage one-word responses now. The things this man did to her, rendering her little more than a weak-willed wanton in his arms. He flicked his thumb over her in a tease that was as deliberate as it was delicious.
“Perhaps you’ve changed your mind?” He kissed her neck again.
She most certainly had. Where he was concerned, she possessed not a shred of resistance. Not when he was nude and hard and utterly tempting at her back. How could she? What would be the harm in one more time?
“For the moment,” she said on a moan as he continued to tease her.
“You seemed so determined earlier,” he observed as one of his fingers slid inside her.
She was wet and ready. Her hips jerked. She wanted more of him. All of him. “I was trying to avoid scandal,” she managed to say.
“And now?” He toyed with her, withdrawing and slicking the moisture over her nub.
He was taking her dangerously close to the edge. “I,” she began, only to falter when he sank back into her. “Oh.”
“To hell with scandal and to hell with being noble,” he said. “I want you, Tia.”
So many words teemed inside her. But all she could muster up was one. “Yes.”
He rolled her gently onto her back, and then he was atop her. The musty blankets were slung about his shoulders like a cape, and he was careful to keep the cold air from touching her even as he lowered his mouth to claim hers.
Their kiss was fierce, filled with mutual longing. His tongue sank into her mouth in that slow, bold claiming she loved. Her nails sank into his sleek, strong shoulders. She raked them down his skin, following the contours of his back to the firm swells of his arse. When she reached his bottom, she grasped him to her, wanting completion. Fulfillment. A joining. Nothing else would satisfy her. Gone was the cold that had been plaguing her body. Gone was any hint of guilt, of propriety hanging over her shoulder, of the promises she’d made, of the people she could hurt by following the whims of her heart and body.
All she knew in that moment was that she’d lived an entire lifetime without knowing a man who made her feel as if she couldn’t exist without him in her bed. Until Heath. As illogical as it was, the man she’d once dubbed the Duke of Dullness was the only man who could set her aflame, who could make her want until she could scarcely think, who could bring her the kind of pleasure she’d never even dreamed existed.
She broke their deep kiss, desperate for him. “I want you so very much, Heath. Please.”
“God, darling. What you do to me.” He guided his cock to her entrance, rubbing his hard length over the bud that so ached for him. “Tell me what you want.”
What she wanted was him, deep inside her. She knew that it was the gentleman within him that wanted a response. A way to assuage whatever guilt would plague him later for eschewing his efforts to be noble. “I want you inside me,” she elaborated, aroused even further by saying the forbidden words aloud. It went against everything she’d promised herself. Everything she’d told him. Everything she’d sworn to repay the debt she owed those around her, from Cleo to Thornton to Miss Whitney. But she couldn’t help herself. Here in the quiet, far-off world of the hunting cabin, it was incredibly easy to forget about all the weights holding her down. In this moment, she was merely Tia, a woman following her heart. And the man atop her was Heath, not the duke, not someone seeking a wife who was not a jaded, wanton widow like herself.
No, they were simply man and woman. Aflame.
He kissed her again before dragging his sensual mouth down over her throat. He nipped at her delicate skin with his teeth and tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening to him, inviting him. Showing him what she wanted far better than mere words ever could. He surged against her, dragging his mouth down her neck to her breast. When he sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, she moaned and arched into him, wanting more. Needing more.
“Harder,” she directed, longing for something she couldn’t even quite comprehend. All that she knew was that as far as he’d pushed her, she wanted to push him furt
her. As far as they both could venture. “Use your teeth.”
He bit her nipple then, gently but with enough force to send a rush of wetness between her thighs. Anticipation was for girls. She was a woman grown, and she wanted satisfaction. Now.
Heath released her breast and moved to the other, sucking that nipple too. And then he thrust, his cock entering her. She moved, loving the sensation of her body stretching to accommodate him. Tia felt as if she’d waited her entire life for this, the life-altering, completely delicious sensation of Heath sheathing himself within her. He was deep. Hard. But she wanted more, so she arched against him, urging him deeper, guiding him into a rhythm that was as tantalizing as it was fast.
Oh dear God, yes.
“Tia,” he groaned against the swell of her left breast. “I’m going to lose my head.”
“Good,” she told him, “for then we shall be even.” Because surely she had already lost her head or else she wouldn’t be once again making love to the Duke of Devonshire despite the vows she’d made to her sister. Nothing about what she was doing made sense other than in the elemental way. Her lust for him she understood—a mere necessity for all human nature. But her willingness to put those around her in danger for another kiss, another thrust of his cock…it was shameful. Her lack of control was shameful. Embarrassing. Troubling. Horrid. Heath rendered her a complete fool.
He began a fast, wicked rhythm, pumping into her in the way she loved. He sucked her nipple, occasionally tugging with his teeth, making her mad for him. By the time his lips fused with hers once more and his thumb was yet again flicking her tender nub, she was well beyond the ledge. She’d leapt, in fact, hoping for something to catch her fall. He thrust into her again and again, his cock unrelenting. She loved every second of it.
Finally, he flicked her sex, thrust home deep within her, and sucked her nipple simultaneously. She lost whatever tentative grip she might have had upon her ability to control herself. Tia threw back her head, moaning and allowing the waves of pleasure within her to build to a crashing crescendo until she reached her pinnacle. Pleasure licked at her as Heath increased his pace, pumping into her again and again. It didn’t take long for him to reach his completion as well, but just as he tipped back his head, sliding so far inside her she wanted to come again, the door of the cabin burst open.
Cold air swept inside. Grasping at Heath’s shoulders, Tia looked beyond him to discern the thin, forbidding shape of one of their fellow revelers. Lord Trotter, to be specific, a man who was old, self-righteous, and possessed of a tongue that delighted in gossip.
Heath seemed unaware of their visitor, continuing to thrust into her until he moaned, his angle changing within her. She felt a spurt of something hot and wet and couldn’t help but be aroused all over again, even if the thin, hawk-eyed viscount was watching them as if he’d just caught the devil about to don a lamb’s skin.
“Good sweet God,” announced Lord Trotter, ruining their idyll and making Heath stop in mid-thrust as he lost himself within her.
“Jesus,” Heath said, clamping the bedclothes firmly to the bed to protect her modesty and tossing a look over his shoulder. “What the devil are you doing here, Trotter?”
“I’ve come in search of her ladyship,” Trotter intoned, his voice tainted with self-righteous fury.
“Oh dear,” Tia whispered, a sinking feeling entering her gut. It was much the same one she’d had when her mother had sent the poor footman to Scotland. She had a horrible feeling that reality was about to intrude upon her and Heath both, just as surely as Lord Trotter had. They were clandestine lovers no more, and there would need to be an answer for what they’d done. Society needed appeasing, after all. The old world required placating, even if the story told wasn’t true. But in this instance, Tia feared there would be no return from the path down which she and the duke had happily trod. A peer of the realm stood on the threshold of the hunting cabin, completely aware of what they were about.
“Get the hell out of here, Trotter,” Heath ordered in his most arch, ducal tones. “Or I shall trounce you to within an inch of your life.”
Before Tia could so much as blink, the door to the hunting cabin slammed shut, leaving her alone once again with Heath. But the niggling sensation that there would be ramifications intolerable to both she and the duke lingered long after the thud of the closing portal.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said as he slid from her body.
Not the most comforting words. Not at all.
“I regret to inform you that while I’ve discovered Lady Stokey, I’ve also discovered the Duke of Devonshire. It gives me great pains to be forced to divulge such dark news, but I fear I have reason to believe that their relations were…improper.” The last was said with a horrified shudder.
The Marquis of Thornton stilled his restless mount and cursed his particular luck to the devil. Rain sluiced from his hat onto his trousers as he tipped his head forward, hiding his expression. Damn it all. He should’ve known Cleo’s troublesome sister couldn’t be trusted to behave. And Devonshire. By God, he would make good on his threats to thrash the blighter.
After weathering the scandal he’d created with his darling wife, he’d just barely earned back his place in the political and social worlds. He’d managed so far by taking the ton by storm with the help of Cleo, who was the most perfect woman he could have ever asked to have by his side. After the birth of their son, she had worked diligently to reenter polite society with a series of lavish entertainments. This house party at Penworth was to have been the culmination of all their labors. They’d invited an impressive assortment of august old lords, fusty politicians, family and friends.
One of those august lords, Viscount Trotter, was facing him now, red-faced and outraged. Seated atop one of Thornton’s mildest mounts, Trotter resembled nothing so much as an irate parsnip drowning in hunting tweeds. Thornton stared at the man, wondering why, of all the guests at Penworth, Tia would have had to be found by the biggest sanctimonious prude. And apparently in flagrante delicto.
Bloody, bloody hell.
“Perhaps you misunderstood what you saw,” he suggested firmly to the man, praying that he would take pity and observe the age-old method of keeping gossip where it belonged. Behind bedchamber doors.
“I saw them in bed together, my lord. There is no doubt,” Lord Trotter said succinctly, banishing Thornton’s hopes.
When it rained, he supposed. “You’re utterly certain?”
Trotter nodded emphatically, his voice trembling in his self-righteous fervor. “I know what I observed, my lord. I cannot say I’m entirely shocked that this sort of egregious behavior would be unfolding within your midst. But I did hope for better from you.”
Thornton gritted his teeth. “I can assure you that I in no way espouse such conduct. Lady Stokey and the duke will both be called to answer for their actions.”
Trotter appeared somewhat mollified. “What will be done?”
There was no hope for it. Only one solution existed, one that would preserve his fragile reputation and dampen the flames of scandal at the same time. “They will marry, of course,” he said. “In the meantime, I suggest we all ride back to Penworth and await their return.”
Without waiting for Trotter’s response, Thornton spurred his mount forward. He was going to wring Tia’s neck for this. And beat Devonshire to a pulp. And then, his wife would likely box his ears for promising her sister to the first unfortunate chap to be caught in bed with her.
Bloody, bloody hell.
“Devonshire.”
Heath met Thornton’s gaze without flinching. They stood not two feet apart in the marquis’ study, two men squaring off much as prizefighters would in the ring. Apparently, Trotter had been swift with his inability to keep the winds of scandal subdued. The bastard had gone straight to the marquis with what he’d seen, which had admittedly been damning indeed. Heath had been summoned for his reckoning, and he knew it.
“Lord Thornton,” he greeted
in turn, equally formal. What did a man say to the brother-in-law of the woman he’d just been caught fucking in an abandoned hunting cabin? The very woman he was to have been rescuing, to boot.
Thornton’s expression was grave, his eyes as hard as the stones of a castle wall. “I presume you know why you are here for this unfortunate interview?”
Heath clasped his hands at his back and nodded, feeling like a lad in leading strings getting punished for sneaking into the kitchens and eating Cook’s tarts. Only the sin he’d committed this time was for worse. Far, far worse and with a more severe consequence. “I do.”
“Interesting choice of words,” the marquis said, grinning in the way he imagined an executioner might as he fit the noose over the prisoner’s head. “Have a seat, Your Grace. I’m not going to resort to fisticuffs.” He paused. “Unless I find it necessary to.”
Ah. He was being given options. Of a sort. He seated himself in a chair opposite Thornton’s escritoire and watched guardedly as his host did the same. His ride back to Penworth with Tia had been quiet. They’d both been lost in their own thoughts, the ramifications of what they’d done. Heath hadn’t known precisely what to say, how to broach the subject of what must happen.
Marriage.
They had no other alternative now that Trotter had caught them. The damage to all their reputations would be too severe. He had no wish for Tia to be snubbed in society on his account. He had been searching for a wife. It would seem he’d found her. And why not? He couldn’t deny that the prospect of having Tia in his bed was a thoroughly pleasant one. Good Lord, she’d all but set him on fire. He couldn’t wait to have more of her. All she had to give.
Reckless Need (Heart's Temptation Book 3) Page 8