by Lavinia Kent
Something was eating at Wulf. He stood stiffly, his body ramrod straight, and without the practiced ease he normally portrayed. His knuckles were white and he seemed to be swallowing a great deal more than usual. What was bothering him?
“Attractive isn’t he, if one goes for that rough and rugged type? He’s a little large, but that has its own attractions, I daresay. I wonder if his –”
“What?” Rose drew her attention back to Lady Clarington. At least her comments clarified one point. Much as Rose hated to admit it, even to herself, she’d begun to wonder if Wulf’s discomfort arose from having sampled Lady Clarington’s charms as well as her own. What else was she supposed to think, when they had disappeared together on the far side of the lake for well past an hour?
“Well, you do seem rather fascinated by the man. A widow must get lonely,” said Lady Clarington.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve my sister and daughter for company.”
“Ah, yes, your sister. She is a sweet, young thing. Reminds me rather of myself at that age, so trusting and innocent. She looks like she’d break in half if you looked at her crooked.”
“Yes, she is very sweet and kind.” Rose ignored the remainder of Lady Clarington’s comment. At least the subject had moved away from Wulf. Rose still didn’t like the way Lady Clarington kept glancing over at him, as if she wanted to eat him. And he’d be a very large meal. She resisted the urge to dwell on just how he had tasted – so crisp and manly, rather like biting into a green apple. She caught herself beginning to salivate and quickly sipped at her tea.
“I’ve warned my Simon to always watch out for the innocent looking ones. You never know what tricks they have up their sleeves or down their bodices. They’re never as delicate as they look.”
Rose choked on the remainder of her tea. Was the harpy actually implying that Marguerite had tricks up her sleeve? The idea would have been laughable, if it weren’t so insulting. Beside, it wasn’t as if Simon was such a great catch, after a few conversations Rose was not convince that he was any smarter than her favorite horse.
Stay calm. Stay polite.
“Does your Simon need to be taught to beware of tricks?” He certainly needed to be taught other things. “I’d have thought he was a little old for that.”
“Well, he will be an earl someday, and you never know what a young miss, particularly one without noteworthy connections, will do to get a title.”
“Oh, and you would know?”
Rose wanted to bite the words back as soon as they were spoken. When you fought with a cat you were bound to get clawed, and she felt quite fragile enough without risking further scratches.
Luckily, whatever rejoinder Lady Clarington had prepared was cut off as Wulf approached them, his easy stride drawing attention to the magnificence of his large frame. Lady Clarington drew herself up, pushing her mounding melons forward.
Oh, that was too bad a thought, but with her head still pounding and her stomach jumping with each step closer that Wulf took, Rose had to allow herself some pleasure. It felt as if his very presence sucked all the air from the room. It was always so difficult to breathe when he was near.
“Major Huntington, I am so glad you found your way out of the woods this afternoon. When I returned and didn’t find you with the party, I was most concerned. I was so worried you’d had the misfortune to be waylaid in some manner.” Lady Clarington shot an unmistakable look at Rose, ice pooling in her eyes.
“My dear Lady Clarington, I can assure you I am most expert at avoiding every manner of entrapment. I am never caught – unless I want to be.” He focused on Rose’s lower lip, and whatever breath had been caught in her lungs fled.
“Why, Mr. Huntington, you are so droll. We all know you’re a hero. Your contribution at Waterloo was famous. I am sure you are expert at most everything.”
Rose could not mistake where Lady Clarington’s eyes were settled. She sipped her tea. She choked back what she was thinking about married ladies who couldn’t keep their eyes or, she feared, their hands, to themselves.
“The tales of my exploits are seriously exaggerated.”
“I doubt that. Besides I am much more interested in the exploits that aren’t told in tales.”
Rose choked again, and almost spit the tea in Lady Clarington’s face or, given their relative position – Rose sitting, Lady Clarington standing at her side – over the melons.
Wulf did not answer, but angled his body more towards Rose. He spoke stiffly, his eyes focused over her shoulder. “Lady Burberry, I came over to inform you that there will be some delay in my departure. It is taking longer to organize the library than I had hoped. I hope this will not inconvenience you.”
Rose closed her eyes and attempted to draw that breath she’d been fighting with for so long. He couldn’t stay. His presence had already upset her plans.
He couldn’t stay.
“Of course, Major Huntington, you must take the time to finish your task.”
What else could she say? She was trapped.
He smiled down at her, some secret message written in his eyes.
“Oh, what fun! I am so pleased that something here has caused you to change your plans.” Lady Clarington cooed the words, her eyelids fluttering like a girl at her coming out.
“Lady Clarington, it is only duty that keeps me. I promised my stepfather I would complete the selection.”
“Oh, rubbish, I am sure a man like you doesn’t do anything he doesn’t care to do.”
“I would assure you, you are mistaken.”
Lady Clarington’s jaw snapped shut. She looked from Wulf to Rose and back again. “I am not wrong. You have made a very foolish choice, Major Huntington. I leave you to it. I have letters to write.”
Could a middle-aged woman still flounce? Rose had always believed that was reserved for the very young, but that was the only way to describe Lady Clarington’s departure.
“It truly is duty that keeps me. That governs.”
The simple statement seemed to cause him great aggravation. He looked ready to jump out of his skin. It made no sense. Was he afraid she’d pursue him, seek to lure him to her bed? Surely he realized that another frenzied coupling was a mistake for both of them. She tore her eyes away from the well-muscled shoulder outlined by his tight evening coat.
“I never doubted it. But, now, if you will forgive me, I must tend to my invited guests. I saw you speaking to Mr. Giddens earlier. I have not yet had the chance to further my acquaintance with him.”
She had to get away. Every second in his presence ate away at her resolve to be sensible. She was an intelligent woman. She would not be governed by the flames of lust that sprang up whenever their gazes met.
She was a woman in control.
She turned and fled.
He let her get away. He had planned it differently, approaching with the full intention of taking her by the arm and leading her out to the terrace. Once they were alone he had planned to sweep her into his arms, kiss her into submission – and make his offer.
Instead he had been forced to fence with Lady Clarington, and then, just when he’d succeeded in removing her from the scene, his prey had fled.
It should not be so difficult. The hard part of a marriage proposal should be making the decision, not cornering the lady.
Lady.
What was he doing making an offer to a lady? He’d sworn never to marry before letting himself be trapped in this web.
But he was, trapped.
He had no choice. Either he married her, or he gave his daughter away. That was unthinkable.
He would just have to plan his attack differently.
Maybe he would knock on her door again, join her in her chamber. Then he could follow his strategy – kiss her, cloud her judgment, and propose.
He’d outmaneuver her and leave her little choice. If he was trapped, he’d make sure that she was, too.
He turned and stalked from the room. If it turned out to be more than ki
sses – well, that could only work to his advantage.
Chapter Eight
Rose paced back and forth in her room. Her skin prickled, too hot for her body, and she doubted the cause was the unexpectedly warm spring night.
It was him. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t knocked on her door last night, made those unreasonable demands about Anna, forced her to confront her own desires, she wouldn’t be like this. She’d be asleep.
She needed something to occupy her mind. That was it. She needed a task, something simple to distract her.
She’d promised Anna she’d find John’s maps so they could look at the sea monsters together and remember the happy times. Maybe, by reminding her daughter of the closeness she’d shared with John, Rose could remind her that having a father could be a wonderful thing.
She needed to restore Anna’s complete faith in her. It bit deep that Anna thought she hadn’t always been there when needed. Somehow she had to show Anna that her mother would always be there. Keeping a promise was a good way to start.
Only – the maps were in John’s downstairs chamber. The room Wulf now occupied. If she snuck down and gathered them he’d never know. She wouldn’t risk the main hallway. Her glance darted to her dressing room and the servant’s stair to his room below, a stair she’d used too often in those last days before John’s death.
She swallowed, her fists knotting the thin fabric of her gown.
She should wait until morning and collect them then. Once he’d left she could just let herself in and grab them. That was what she should do.
Only – the day promised to be full and her sole chance to spend time with Anna might be early, before the house had fully awoken. She’d go now and hope he was off playing billiards or drinking port.
With great resolve she marched to the stair and started down. She would just take the maps and leave. She’d not allow an opening for any further . . . mischief.
She paused at the bottom and pressed her ear against the door listening. Only silence. She turned the latch and crept through.
She had the briefest glimpse of white linen and black robe, before she was yanked forward against his rock hard chest.
She grabbed his hair and pulled his face down. He held back. She pulled harder. His hard lips met hers in a consuming kiss. He tasted of whiskey, sharp and tangy.
Devouring.
Ravishing.
Uncompromising.
She wasn’t sure who did what to whom, but the result was explosive. She sucked hard at his tongue, drawing it into her mouth, as his lips ground against her, bruising her with endless pleasure.
Maybe now she could find whatever had been missing the previous evening, gain that intangible satisfaction she dreamed of for years.
They were locked together in passion, but she wanted more. Her hands pushed his robe aside, ducked under soft linen, seeking the silk of his chest. The sparse smattering of curls delighted her senses, and pulling away from his kiss she buried her face in his uncovered flesh.
The sheer solidity of him surrounded her, increased her sense of vulnerability, of femininity. His arms came around her, pressing her tight against him, until it was hard to breathe. The heat from his body filled her, burned her. She bit softly at a tangle of curls, letting her teeth rasp against his tender skin.
He drew a heavy breath, then setting his hands beneath her hips lifted her, until their mouths met again. She wrapped her legs about his thighs, opening her most intimate places to his hardness. He devoured her, filled her, completed her. How could so much satisfaction come from a kiss?
Her mind spun as she felt herself lifted and carried towards the bed. It was hard to think of anything besides the fire of his kiss, the burn of his chest against her breasts, the firm bulge caught between her thighs sending ripples of pleasure through her.
She fell onto the bed, her legs still caught around him as he stood at the edge of the bed. She expected him to move her over, to lie down beside her, her body already mourned that brief break in contact.
Instead he stood looking down at her, his gaze searing her with fire. He pulled down her bodice, freeing her breasts. The first shock of cool air caused a shiver to run through her as her nipples peaked under the onslaught of his eyes. He hadn’t even touched her and her breast swelled and yearned. She moaned, needing his touch, his mouth. She stirred and shifted, attempting to thrust herself against him. Why didn’t he move? She needed him now.
Then his hands prowled, not over her breasts as she expected, but up her legs, past quivering calves and thighs to . . . she just about jumped from the bed at his first touch. The intensity of the feeling driving all other thought from her mind.
“God, you’re so soft and ready. So made for me.” He sighed the words as his fingers moved again, delving probing, sending her on the rode to heaven.
Then he was in her.
She hadn’t known such a thing was possible, that he could still be standing when . . . it was so good, such unimaginable pleasure.
Then his hands found her breasts, raising the stakes yet again. His eyes never left hers as he began to move, so slowly, so dreadfully slowly.
She tried to push herself against him, to quicken the pace, but he caught her hips in his hands and held them still, pressing her into the mattress.
His eyes mirrored hers until she felt his heat, his passion, his wanting – but still he held something back. He looked down upon her with such raw desire she was encased, surrounded – yet left wanting. She could see each sensation that rippled through his body as he thrust within her. His eyes were large and dark, his nostrils flared with passion as he fought for control. She would not grant him that detachment. This time she would have what she wanted – all of it.
She tightened herself within, seeking to grab the reins from his hands to send them both careening down that sharp cliff to the inevitable shattering, but he fought her off – refused to grant her victory. He held her pinned, his to pleasure, his to own.
But she refused to be mastered. His hands locked on her hips leaving her hands free, and they snuck down between them, to the place of their joining. It took only the barest whisper of touch across his silken flesh to send him careening.
She saw him lose the battle. His eyes clenched and then grew wide as he dropped the reins and they both ran free.
There was no master, no mistress, no control, as the fires grew and exploded between them.
She felt his release, heard his cry, as her own rose to join. The shook and shuddered and gasped together as ecstasy took them and held them and then abated.
He could feel her heartbeat pulsing around him. That was the first thought that entered Wulf’s mind as sanity returned. It seemed such a simple thing, but it caught him unawares. Her heart surrounded him, completed him.
Where had that thought come from? He had no interest in her heart, only her body and her daughter. That was the whole reason behind this. Yes, that was the reason.
He pulled himself from her, and settling her fully on the bed and laid beside her. Her eyes were still closed, her body soft from the thoroughness of their loving. He let himself grin with satisfaction.
He’d felt the war for control between them, and if he had not won, neither had she. His body quickened again as he considered the possibilities for another skirmish.
First, though, he had matters to take care of. She’d surprised him, by coming to him. He’d been ready to go to her, to kiss her to compliance and then spring his plan upon her. He’d brook no resistance. He fought to win.
Still, maybe it was better this way. She had indicated her own desire, shown that she would not even pretend indifference in the privacy of their chambers.
His grin spread.
Maybe she’d planned this, sought to entrap him in to marriage, never realizing she was the one caught in her own web. Should he let her play it out, see where her maneuvers would take them? It might be fun to let her reveal the next step in manipulations, let her think she was the on
e managing the affair.
No. He would begin in the manner he intended to continue. She was a lady. He would put her firmly in her place now, let her know he allowed no resistance. She was his and it was time she realized that. He had survived the bloodiest of battles – he would force her to his will, be clear he was the master.
He turned on his side, facing her, wiping all expression from his face. He would let her know he acted only from duty and honor.
He inhaled deeply and prepared to say the words that would set his future, ensure his commitment. He prepared for his belly to clench in protest, his mind to shirk from what he knew he must do.
Rose opened her eyes and gifted him with a full sleepy smile. Her eyes shone softly in the candle light, and for a moment he thought he saw tenderness and care flash across her features. Then with a start, she opened her eyes full and jerked to sitting. She just sat there staring at him, confusion spread across her face.
Maybe she hadn’t planned it after all. No, that was nonsense. She’d come to him, she was merely a better actress than he’d remembered. He must remember she was a lady. She’d never admit to physical desire and longings.
She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and thought again. He took advantage of the pause. It was now or never. He’d show her who was the master here.
“I’ll talk to the vicar tomorrow. The banns can be called Sunday and we’ll be married in three or four week’s time. I trust that meets with your approval.”
There, it was done. That had been easy. He sprang from the bed and made for the wash basin.
A crystal bud vase flew from the bedside table to crash into the wall beside him.
Rose stared in amazement as the vase shattered against the wall. She could not remember, in her entire life, acting in such a manner. She wasn’t even quite sure why she’d done it. He was clearly insane, but was that any reason for her to act like a child, and a petulant one at that?