Christian did not deserve her animosity or her sharp tongue, despite the fact that he was a provoking man. He didn't own her; nor did he have any right to criticize her, damn him!
Unable to restrain herself, Elizabeth's thoughts warred. Closing her eyes, she curled upon the counterpane and closed her eyes. With perfect recall, she saw his face as he charged the villains. Wild, fearless, he'd roared his rage as if a wild Norse warrior bent on murder.
They were well matched, she thought with alarm, recalling the way she'd used her gun and fought to free herself. Impossible! They were both fearless rogues! Perhaps they deserved each other.
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes?” She struggled to keep a measure of reserve in her voice.
"What is taking so long? Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course. Leave me alone, if you please. I do not wish to be on the receiving end of your criticism a moment longer than necessary."
His dark, utterly sinful laugh unnerved her.
Sighing as she rolled to her back, she thought of how life might be should she actually marry Christian. He was the most exciting man she'd ever encountered. A man who made her thrill to his every touch, it was within his capability to steal her soul. At one moment, he was harshly teasing. At another, wildly tempting. Christian was an enigma and different from anyone she'd ever met.
No, she could never give in to his demand of marriage. But, she realized, she could enjoy him. Elizabeth Grayson would never be a bride, never be the chattel of any man, no matter how enticing. Why, though, could she not be the man's mistress for a short while?
Shameful! Only a shameful, wicked woman would think such things! But still, the images drawn forth by her imagination made her stop breathing. She could have it all! Closeness, tenderness, and a gentle initiation into lovemaking. A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold snaked down her spine. Months spent as his lover could compensate for the life she'd chosen. The life of a spinster would not seem nearly so lonely if she went into those years with the memory of his touch.
In a few months, Christian would tire of her, and she could continue her life unfettered. She could accomplish her goals and live on memories if she must.
As a heavily dowered woman, she was the object of many fortune hunters’ desires, yet she fended them off by her reticence, her aloofness. Christian was different. Wealthy beyond belief, he did not need her fortune. Perhaps after he claimed her body, he would tire of her. Wasn't that the way of men everywhere?
Faithless dogs most of them.
Aside from her own parents, she'd never seen a true love match. Christian, with his sinfully gorgeous body and dashing ways, would always be the object of women's fancies. How could he resist the abundance of female beauty at his disposal?
No, she would not make the mistake of falling in love with the scoundrel. But she could take the attitude of men everywhere and enjoy him for a month or two.
She had little to lose. Resolving to settle things between them, she sat up and tucked the quilt beneath her arms. Fastening the ends at the top of her bosom, she removed the small chair and reached for the latch.
A sudden chill shook her. To her mortification it was not a result of the cold, but of excitement. Once and for all, things must be resolved between them. Stepping from the room, fighting off a sudden attack of nerves, she turned as breath hitched to a stop in her throat.
Christian knelt in front of the small fireplace, arranging dry logs to his satisfaction. A glint of fire burned orange and yellow at one end, threatening to explode in a shower of warmth.
Bare to the waist, he gave her a glimpse of near-naked man. The unusual sight touched upon every tingling nerve she possessed. She closed her eyes briefly under the lash of desire that shredded her senses.
"Christian."
He was sleek and bronzed. Muscles rippled as he turned his head to look at her. In a raspy tone, he murmured, “Are you cold?"
Slowly rising, he turned to face her, and Elizabeth froze.
Beautiful. Magically beautiful, he was built like the hero of every dream she'd ever had. Sculpted for a woman's pleasure, his muscular chest was lightly sprinkled with black hair that fanned gently before trailing downward more narrowly to disappear into the front of his damp trousers.
His long hair, dry now, was brushed from his forehead and hung thickly to the breadth of shoulders that were broad and as well formed as the rest of his delicious body.
Breathing became impossible under his knowing regard. A faint smile twisted lips that were full and sensuous. Feeling a wild blush crawl over her from toe to forehead, she could only stare like a lackwit. With the grace of a jungle animal, he moved closer. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo. Fear and desire held her in its grip rendering her speechless.
Suddenly solemn, Christian placed his warm, broad hands on her naked shoulders and leaned closer. “I asked if you were cold. Are you, love?"
"No,” she choked. “I am not. I doubt I shall ever be cold again."
Nine
Christian watched her face flame at the words she'd spoken. Though he wanted to smile at her discomfiture, he didn't. Instead he approached cautiously, very aware of her gaze trained steadily upon his naked chest.
Her lovely eyes were wide with shock as she studied his body, her regard making him predatory. His body tightened with need as he brushed his thumbs lazily over the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat.
"Are you saying I make you warm, ma petite?"
"No, of course not.” She bristled.
"Then what do you mean?"
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know."
Her eyes were riveted to his naked chest, and Christian knew that despite her bravado, she'd never seen a half-naked man before. Her eyes, dazed with emotion, stared with what he could only assume was longing. His body reacted violently; heat speared him. If only she would reach out, touch him as he touched her.
Elizabeth wet her lips and continued her study. “Perhaps the episode in the road outside has muddled my brain."
"I suspect nothing muddles you overmuch. You are the most intelligent female I have ever met.” Christian cupped her face and lifted it. He leaned infinitesimally nearer, memorizing every small detail of her expression.
A look of wonder lit her eyes for a second more before she carefully hid her pleasure at his praise. What a clever wife and partner she would be. Christian ached to pull her into his arms and hold her.
"A compliment? Surely not, m'lord. Why just moments ago, you suggested I brand myself with a scarlet ‘T'."
Christian chuckled and lowered his hands to her pale shoulders. Stroking softly, he drew them down the length of her arms where he lightly touched the delicate skin at the bend of her elbow. “Scarlet?"
She shrugged. “Scarlet ‘A', scarlet ‘T'. What possible difference could it make? Either way you would brand me, sir.” Uncharacteristically, she lowered her head as if in defeat. “Despite my good intentions, I am compromised once again. My only hope now is that you will remain a gentleman and not press the issue of marriage."
"Come. Sit,” he said, leading her to a yellow Chintz sofa where she sat and struggled awkwardly to curl her feet beneath her. Standing there, studying the elegant lines of her body beneath the clumsy fabric, he reached out to tease a curl at her temple. “We need not speak of this now. Let us get you warm and dry first."
He plucked a glass of brandy from a small table and gave it to her, watching as she took a careful sip.
The poor darling looks so confused, Christian thought as a surge of protectiveness warmed his heart. He could see the fight within her begin to wither and part of him sympathized. For a woman of independence, finding herself in this position must be defeating.
Knowing this was the perfect setting for seduction, he felt a twinge of guilt. He had so much wanted her to come to him, to want him so desperately that she would melt in his arms, but time grew short and his birthday approached. He hadn't much time to lose.
Walking away for a time seemed the best alternative to falling upon her in a spasm of lust. Going to the fireplace, he leaned an elbow upon the mantle and watched her as she sat blinking up at him. “This cottage has an abandoned feel to it,” he said. “Still, everything is fresh and homey."
Elizabeth smiled. “As it happens, I know the owner. Mrs. Imogen Brown is newly widowed and now employed by a friend of mine."
"Who is he? This friend of yours?"
"She. My friend is a she, and you wouldn't know her. She lives just up the road in a lovely manor house."
"So a visit to this friend is the reason you failed to appear for tea.” Christian was pleased to note her look of chagrin. “You do realize that you have frightened your parents dreadfully?"
Elizabeth ducked her head and took another sip of her drink. “For that I am sorry. My friend has become quite ill, so I felt I had no choice but to hurry."
"This is no excuse, Elizabeth.” Christian scowled at her thoughtlessness. Naturally she wanted to see her sick friend, but surely she could've taken a few moments to alert her parents. “Are you always this selfish?"
Fury washed her cheeks with red. Setting down her glass, she jerked to her feet. “How dare you?"
"You are soon to be my fiancée and that, my lady, is how I dare.” Straightening, he loomed closer; his jaw worked furiously. “I had thought to be gentle with you after your attack, but I have reconsidered. You should be spanked and soundly. You, my dear, believe you can flit from place to place without a care simply because your parents are lax in their guardianship."
"Lax in their ... Why I don't believe you ... you hog of a man.” Losing control, she began to sputter. “You wouldn't know a tender-loving parent if one bit you on the behind."
Christian's own temper exploded in tandem with her own as he charged forward. How dare she impugn what she knew nothing about? She was wild and reckless, caring nothing for the feelings of others.
"I hate you,” she yelled and vented her anger with a hard stomp of one foot. Wide-eyed she froze as the hastily tied quilt slithered from her body to land in a heap at her feet.
Her gasp of horror, filled the sudden silence of the room.
"Sweet Jesus,” he whispered. “What a beauty you are.” His entire body clenched with need, his erection growing by huge dimensions. Hands fisted to keep himself rooted in one place, he watched a crimson stain crawl the surface of her perfect, ivory body.
Below the high, firm fullness of her breasts, her waist was slender, her hips gently rounded. The dark red curls at the apex of her thighs made his fingers itch to explore her depths. Elizabeth's legs were long and beautifully formed.
Tension grew apace with desire as he came closer. It was past time for the minx to learn of passion, and he was an excellent teacher. A slow smile accompanied his steps as he came nearer to what he most wanted. Elizabeth. Naked, soft, wet, and vulnerable.
"No,” she whispered, raising a hand as if to ward him off.
"Yes. It is past time, love. For you there is no escape. Not tonight."
Frantic, highly charged, Elizabeth struggled to cover her nudity with shaking hands and, finding the effort futile, bent swiftly to retrieve the fallen quilt.
Though his heart threatened to pound from his chest, he kept his hands gentle as her caught her shoulders. Tenderly, he stroked and petted her soft flesh. She quivered, staring up into his eyes. Proud, brave Elizabeth looked suddenly vulnerable, and he caught his breath at her beauty.
Drawing her against him, Christian reveled in the sweet, tempting feel of her breasts plumped against his chest. Hardened, apricot-hued nipples brushed tauntingly against the hair on his chest. Elizabeth moaned, and Christian's hunger grew.
He stared into eyes gone lambent as a growl tore from his throat. “No more teasing, Elizabeth. No more games and denials. Tell me you want me! Tell me, damn you!"
"Yes, yes. I want you. Please.” She whispered a tiny sound, perhaps a prayer, as he lowered his lips to hers.
Like a starving man, Christian plundered her sweetness, teasing, tormenting until she melted against him and her arms wound tightly to curl around his shoulders.
The feel of her was heaven, he thought, as her hands began a slow journey of discovery over his neck, his back. Exploring her in turn, he lightly skimmed her curves. The sweet dip of her waist enticed him. The swell of her hips became his delight. Fueled by the soft sounds she made, Christian pressed his erection to the gentle swell of her belly. His breath found the shell of her ear, making her gasp.
Circling the smooth plane of Elizabeth's back, Christian buried his face against her neck as he filled his hands with the soft, globes of her breasts. Full and firm, resilient, he teased with his fingers then bent to taste.
He circled her nipple with his tongue, teasing the hard bit of flesh he craved. Satisfaction filled him at her answering sigh. Pleasing himself, he played there until at last, he drew her nipple hungrily into his mouth. Elizabeth cried out helplessly as he feasted.
Suckling harder, Christian lifted her warm, naked body into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Languorously shifting his ministrations to the other breast, he followed her down upon the bed. His mouth worked hungrily, making her moan.
Unable to feel enough, taste enough, he dove for her mouth. Nibbling at her bottom lip, his tongue finally dipped inside to begin a slow, sensual duel with hers. Her untutored response, the way she arched against him, unraveled his sanity bit by bit. Touching as much of her as he could, he wallowed in the soft, sweet feel of her skin. Her tiny waist and slender rib cage begged for the slow exploration of his fingers. Her body trembled beneath his touch.
"Let me love you, sweet. I'm dying with need for you,” he rasped. “Marry me. Say you will."
His fingers sifted through the damp red curls between her thighs, and wantonly she writhed. With her cry of surprise urging him on, Christian shifted, hooked a hand beneath each knee, and spread her out beneath him.
Sensation roared through him as he moved into the cradle of her thighs. It was like coming home. Through his trousers, his erection, hard as stone, stroked heavily over her, sending a steady flow of molten heat strumming through his body. Her limbs quaked, her breasts heaved as she moved against him in a response as old as time.
"Please, Christian. Oh, please,” she gasped, flushed with pleasure.
"Say you'll marry me at last."
"No, no. I shan't marry anyone. Let me be your mistress. I shall live on the memory of your touch."
A growl sounded, teeth gnashed as Christian reeled from her words. “You would play the whore for me, sweet Elizabeth? So tantalizing, rude, remote?"
Rising to his knees, he leaned back and looked at her. Like a pagan princess, her hair spread out like a vivid fan across the white counterpane. Her curves tempted him to give his all to please her.
"You will never be my mistress, love. Only my wife. You may have forgotten in this intense moment, but you are a lady. Well-bred, from good family. A prime candidate for marriage and babes."
Like the innocent she was, Elizabeth blinked up at him. Panting, heaving, she looked like a virgin sacrifice. His virgin sacrifice.
He scowled down at her. “My mistress, hmm? I think not, you little hellcat. Perhaps you need a demonstration of why you should awaken in my bed every morning. You demand, I think, a sample of why you must sleep in my bed each night, every night."
Her sex was opulent, the petals pink and wet. Drawing his control around him, he reached for her.
Fingers gliding over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, he stayed to play over each inch of skin.
Teasing with his fingers, he began to stroke, just missing the tiny pearl of her sex. Wet and ready for him, Christian increased her torment by slow increments before at last pressing upon that small tempting knot. Just once. Just to tease. She cried out for him as he finally dipped one finger into the entrance of her body. She tossed her head, crying out as the rain continued its soft sputteri
ng against the rooftop. He added another finger and pressed lightly.
"Yes, darling,” he crooned. “That's it. Move against my fingers. Tighten upon them. Yes, like that. Let me feel your pleasure.” Gently, he parted the petals of her sex. With his thumb, he circled the tiny knot of nerves hidden there.
Elizabeth's eyes widened and she gasped. “Christian?"
"This is pleasure, sweeting. Once we are wed, I shall give this and more to you every day.” His thumb flicked the throbbing place slowly, then faster. Leaning over her, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, using his teeth and tongue. Her maddened cry rose in tandem with his strokes, his teasing, and uncontrollably she pushed against his hands, his mouth, wanting more and more.
"Ah, yes. Come for me. That's it.” He rested his face between the valley of her breasts, his words urging her to seek the completion he knew she craved. “You are sweet and wet for me, love. Come. Come."
Abruptly she stiffened with a sharp gasp and sensing the crisis upon her, he lightly pinched the bud of her sex. Her wild cry was accompanied by the crash of lightning as he sent her body soaring.
In the quiet aftermath, he moved, then turned to his side facing her. Unable to stop touching her breasts, Christian stilled as she reached for the buttons of his trousers. His sex throbbed with need and helplessly, he closed his eyes in fervent prayer. She mustn't stop. Not now. Not ever.
The rain outside had ceased at long last, and the only sound left was quickened breaths co-mingling in a heated rush.
A muffled cry accompanied by a brisk pounding on the door arrested the moment. Staring into each other's eyes, the sound came again, only louder. Cursing as Elizabeth bolted up, Christian took pity on her alarm and tossed her the still damp gown hanging in the wardrobe. “Don't worry, sweet. I shall see to this. Dress quickly."
As Elizabeth struggled with the clinging garment, he rushed into the main room and snatched up his shirt. Thankfully, the lawn material had dried, and he shrugged into it while throwing open the door.
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