Sweet Seduction hmtl

by Patricia Pellicane

  She couldn't hold back her grunt as he dropped her a good foot to the deck.

  "Mr. Crain, have one of the men strap this to my carriage, if you please."

  She could hear his footsteps as he walked quickly away. She imagined he was standing at the railing as he waited. She heard him call out to someone and then came a woman's laughter. Damn him to hell! She hadn't been missing more than an hour or two and he'd already forgotten her existence. Meg couldn't believe her ears. Was he now making plans to spend the night in another's arms?

  The trunk was being dragged across the deck. "Careful with that," Tristan said to whomever it was that had tipped her upon her head and was now pulling her over a deck she'd once thought to be as smooth as glass.

  Tristan kept up the conversation with the woman as he followed the trunk down the long gangway. Oh, she was going to kill him. In another minute she was going to claw her way out of this cramped box and kill both of them.

  "And your price?"

  Meg rained every curse word she knew upon the man's head. He was actually going to go with this woman. A prostitute! Lord, the man was lower than dirt.

  The woman named her price.

  "A little steep, wouldn't you say?"

  "Not for what I've got to offer, love."

  "And what would that be?" Tristan asked as he

  leaned casually against the hired coach, crossing his feet and hooking his thumbs in his belt as he smiled at the whore.

  "How about these." The woman lowered her loose-fitting blouse and casually displayed enormous white breasts for perusal. The driver of the coach almost fell off his seat while the two men who had placed the trunk on the back of the coach gaped in obvious enjoyment.

  Tristan grinned and remarked, "Very pretty. But not tonight, love." A second later, he turned toward the trunk. He lifted the lid and smiled into Meg's furious eyes. "Sweetheart, don't you think you'd be more comfortable riding inside with me?"

  Meg gasped her surprise at suddenly finding his face hovering above hers. So, he'd known all along she was inside and still had openly flirted with another. "You bastard," Meg said. She didn't know which angered her more, his careless treatment of his trunk, knowing she was inside, or his flirting.

  He shrugged at her comment, but just before he lowered the lid again she sat up and growled while poking him hard in his chest, "If you ever call me love,' I'll put a knife in your heart."

  Tristan grinned, his heart quickening with pleasure. Could it be she was jealous? God, he hoped so. "Are you ready?"

  The two bemused seamen stood behind their captain. Neither had ever before seen such a peculiar happening. They looked at each other and gave knowing grins. The upper class were the oddest lot, taking their thrills from the most unlikely places. Who could tell what they were likely to do next?

  Tristan took her from the trunk, gathered her in his arms, and placed Meg inside the coach, forgetting the startled whore's presence. Tristan jumped inside and the coach moved away the moment the door closed. Pulling the window coverings into place, he reckoned it would be dark in about an hour, but he wasn't taking any chances. He figured he'd sleep better if she never saw the route he took home.

  They sat in silence for a long time before Meg dared to glance in his direction only to see a satisfied smirk grace his lips. He grabbed her hand just as she was about to wipe that smile off. "I hate you," she spat.

  Tristan laughed. "Did you think you could so easily escape me?"

  "Who was she?"

  "Who?" Tristan couldn't follow her train of thought, for he'd forgotten the whore the moment he took this woman in his arms.

  "The lady you were talking to."

  "She wasn't a lady, and I don't know her name."

  "What did she show you to make you change your mind?"

  "What?"

  "I heard you ask her what she had to offer."

  "Oh, that."

  "Well?" she asked when it appeared he wasn't in any hurry to answer.

  "She pulled down her blouse."

  "What? And exposed herself?"

  "Now don't get—"

  She cut him off. "So what's your problem?" she asked sarcastically. "Did she have three? Is that why you didn't go with her?" Her mouth twisted with fury, her dark eyes snapping with fire.

  Tristan smiled serenely.

  "You are the lowest, the meanest, the most disgustingly vile human being I've ever known."

  Tristan chuckled as he held her hands to her sides. "Gypsy, I never expected her to pull down her blouse. Listen to me, sweetheart."

  "Don't you sweetheart me." She glared at him, her body stiff with rage. "Why didn't you go with her? She was sure to show you a good time. Why didn't you go?"

  "Because she's not the one I want."

  "Then why were you talking to her? Why did you ask?"

  "Because I knew you could hear and I wanted to you jealous."

  Meg's dark eyes rounded with shock, and then she gasped at what she'd done, what she'd said. She had acted as if she were jealous. She wasn't, of course, but for some reason unknown to her, she'd acted as if she was. Lord, there was no telling what he thought now.

  "Too bad your plan failed then," she managed weakly, her gaze avoiding his knowing grin.

  Tristan's smile was the most tender she'd ever seen as he put his arm around her slender form and cuddled her to his chest. "You know, Gypsy, I was just thinking that very same thing."

  Meg sighed as she burrowed her fiery cheeks against his chest. He could have laughed at her feeble attempt to deny the truth, and yet he hadn't. Why? And why did that one act of gentlemanly consideration cause a great tenderness to blossom in her chest? Lord, everything was so confusing. She'd been so angry at his flirting with another that she'd forgotten to be angry at being caught in the act of escaping. Meg tried to muster the emotion now, but amazingly enough she couldn't find it.

  My, but she was exhausted. She couldn't think clearly. It was her illness that brought on these extreme emotions and this sense of confusion. She needed a little sleep. Then later she'd be able to . . .

  "Your mouth," he groaned. "God, your mouth is so soft, I could kiss you forever," Tristan breathed against her lips a half-hour later as Meg came from a deep sleep.

  She was sitting in his lap, held comfortably against him as the coach moved through the night. "Forever?" she asked sleepily and then shook her head. "You'd die of malnutrition."

  She could feel his smile against her mouth. "Having you is enough to keep any man alive." His lips plucked at hers, forcing them apart. "Give me more."

  "Greedy," she said, and her body shivered with delight at the feel of his hungry mouth against hers.

  "Delicious," he groaned, and Meg murmured agreeingly as he covered her mouth in a devastating kiss. Her hands moved up his chest, and fingers locked behind his neck as she pulled his mouth harder against hers.

  "Oh God, I'm not going to make it if I can't love again," he said as he tore his mouth from hers and deposited a dozen kisses over her eyes, nose, cheeks, and throat.

  "Then love me again," she whispered dreamily against his lips. "Love me, Tristan."

  This was the first time she'd ever asked him, and Tristan wondered if he'd live through the ecstasy of hearing her soft plea. He groaned as her fingers went to his shirt. He should stop her. She wasn't totally awake, or she'd remember her condition and know this was impossible.

  "We shouldn't," he said and then smiled as her fingers left his shirt half-unbuttoned and moved to cup face.

  "Yes, we should." Her mouth was so soft it was like kissing satin but better. Satin didn't taste like her. Satin didn't come alive at the feel of his mouth. Satin wasn't sweetly moist and burning hot.

  He was caught under her spell; his hands reached mindlessly for the feel of her. The ball gown she posed no obstacle to what he wanted most to touch. It took only a gentle tug for her breasts to fall into his hands. Tristan groaned at the feel of her, unable to believe the delight of touching her, of
really touching her. His mouth lowered to the delicacy, and he sipped at her taste and nuzzled her flesh until both thought they'd go mad with longing.

  Her hips shifted, and he knew what she wanted. His hand moved beneath her gown, up the long shapely curve of her thighs, and then he groaned. Damn, he'd forgotten. It was a miracle he remembered his name when in her arms. He never should have kissed her awake. He never should have started this.

  Meg's mouth slid along the column of his throat as Tristan tried to shake away the spell she'd woven. "Meggie, don't."

  But Meg wasn't listening. She wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, like she'd never needed anything before.

  "We can't." He touched the padding between her legs, pushing it closer to her body. "Remember?"

  "Umm," she murmured, her mouth against his chest, her hands pulling the shirt from his trousers. "Just let me . . ." she said as her mouth moved over his nipple.

  Tristan felt a jolt of lust hit his groin, and his hips lifted against her sweet bottom as her lips and hands wandered over his chest. He flung his head back and groaned as if in agony, "Oh God."

  His hands fell from her. He could hardly breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. And most of all, he couldn't stop her from doing as she would.

  "Meggie," he said, his voice tight with pain as she opened the buttons of his trousers. She pushed the material aside and kissed him just above his throbbing erection. Stars flashed behind his closed eyes. He was a helpless being. His body was hers to do with as she would.

  She came from his lap and knelt on the floor of the coach. He knew he shouldn't allow this, but he didn't have the power to stop her. Nothing had ever been this good. Nothing.

  She rolled his trousers down his legs, and Tristan moaned as she kissed the hard throbbing heat of his sex. The fact that she wasn't sure of what to do next was obvious. Tristan reached for her hand and brought it to join her lips, showing her how to bring him the most pleasure, and Meg eagerly did just that.

  She was driving him out of his mind. He wasn't going to be able to stand much more. His body trembled and ached, his breath coming in harsh ragged gusts. He had to stop her now, before it was too late.

  "Stop. Oh Meggie, you've got to stop," he said even as he raised his hips eagerly toward her sweet caresses and burning kisses. He groaned in near delirium as she experimented with bolder kisses and touches. Tristan swore he saw heaven when her tongue, hot and wet, ran over the length of him. And then he groaned again, the sound bordering on pain when she opened her mouth and took him deep into her heat.

  At the last minute, he realized what was about to happen and pulled her mouth away. Muscles bulging in his arms, he held her raised above the floor, suspended between his legs. His eyes glazed with need.

  "Don't stop touching me. My God, don't stop," he groaned near madness as his hands tightened at her waist.

  Meg did as he asked. She cupped his burning flesh and moved her hand up and down as he'd shown her, watching in wide-eyed fascination as his body shuddered and his eyes closed, his features contorting as if in pain even as a great sound of anguish was torn from his throat.

  He collapsed upon the leather upholstery, breathing heavily.

  "Did I hurt you?" Meg asked as she moved to sit beside him. She leaned close and smoothed his dark hair from his forehead.

  Tristan kept his eyes closed and grinned at her innocence. "No, sweetheart, you didn't hurt me."

  It took a minute before he found the strength, but he finally handed her a handkerchief, and she wiped at her hand. "It does tend to make quite a mess, doesn't it?"

  Tristan grinned and grabbed her, holding her face inches from his. His heart swelled with a joy that knew no bounds. "You are the most wonderful woman." He sighed as he hugged her tightly against him and nuzzled his face into the warmth of her neck.

  And then it hit him. He realized how selfish he'd been and felt more than a little guilt. "God, I feel so . . " Tristan cursed. "I shouldn't have let that happen. It couldn't have been good for you." The two of them were adjusting their clothes as he spoke.

  "It doesn't matter," she said at last, settling against him after another long, sizzling kiss, oddly happy to have brought him such pleasure. She smiled into eyes that held a mixture of relief, happiness, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment.

  "Why? Why did you do it?" he asked in wonder, unable to believe anyone could be this giving, this sweet. And then the doubt set in. Was she truly so wonderful? Or was she simply playing a game. A game to catch him off guard.

  Tristan forced aside his tender feelings and remembered that only an hour ago she'd tried to escape. His smile was hard as he recalled her anger and surprise at being found out. No. She wasn't that sweet, that innocent, that giving. It was a trick. He should have known from the first; that's all it was. He'd have to be a fool to believe anything else.

  "Because . . ." she hesitated, unsure of what she'd been about to say. "Because . . ." Meg realized she couldn't answer him. She didn't know why: She shrugged and then replied, "I was caught up in the moment, I imagine"

  Tristan didn't believe her for a minute. He knew the ways of women. He'd never met one yet who didn't have an ulterior motive for everything she did. And this wild, if innocent, Gypsy was no different.

  His gaze narrowed at her hesitation, and all he could think of was the fool his father had become in clutches of yet another devious woman. "I don't so."

  She glanced at him, surprised by the sudden hardening of his voice. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "You did it because you figured you owed me, am I right?"

  "Owed you?" Meg's brow creased in confusion. "For what?"

  "For taking care of you. You figured this made us even. And now you can leave with a clear conscience."

  She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Good God, did he think so little of her to believe she'd whore out of gratitude? Apparently he did. What else, she wondered, did he believe? Meg moved from his side and sat herself across from him. She carefully adjusted her skirts, trying desperately to hold back her tears of hurt.

  "You shouldn't have done it, you know. No decent woman would ever think to do such a thing."

  A great, crushing weight pressed on her chest and pain unlike anything she'd ever know robbed her of the ability to breathe. A moment ago she'd believed her actions good and wonderful. Now she knew only shame, wretched unbearable shame. She raised dark tormented eyes from her skirts, eyes filled with pain. He was right, of course. She shouldn't have done it. Meg shuddered at the wanton things she'd done and wondered why she had.

  Tristan was just about to offer an apology. He knew he'd hurt her with those taunting words. Only he hadn't imagined how deeply her hurt would slice into his heart. Now he wanted to soothe away the pain and tell her she was the most wonderful woman he'd ever known and beg for forgiveness.

  He never got the chance, for her hurt lasted mere seconds before the anger came and she fought back. "What does that make you? Apparently you prefer your women less than decent. As far as I could tell you took a liking to what I did."

  Damn, but that was an understatement if ever he'd heard one. He could have told her then he was sorry, but some unnamed demon ignored her suffering and reacted only to her anger. It held him in its clutches, and he couldn't stop the jeering words. "Perhaps." Tristan shrugged, unable to deny the obvious. "But it's different for a man. He can take what a woman offers. Sex doesn't make him any less man." Jesus God, had he ever said anything more stupid? Tristan couldn't imagine what the hell he was talking about.

  Meg's smile was brittle and icy cold. She'd never known such pain, but she'd die before he'd know she suffered. "But it makes a woman less? Is that what you're saying?"

  Tristan shrugged for an answer, unable to believe what he'd done. God, but she was the most delectable person he'd ever laid his eyes on, and instead of bestowing innumerable blessing upon her, he'd just much told her she was lower that any whore in street. He couldn't believe he'd
done it, and he as hell didn't know why.

  Meg raised her hand as if to forestall yet another ling insult. "Have no fear, Mr. Hall. Now that I know what is expected of decent women, I'd die before it happens again." She shuddered at the thought. "God, but you are truly a loathsome creature."

  Tristan knew a sense of real despair at her cold, impersonal stare. Gone was the passion, the fire he'd known before, now replaced by a hollow, empty chill. True he hadn't wanted to feel tenderness for this woman, but had it been necessary to make her hate like this? Instantly he rejected the notion as ridiculous. It didn't matter that she hated him. Actually, he enjoyed the fact that she did. "Maybe," he snarled in disgust at his own momentary weakness, "but at least I'm an honest loathsome creature. Not like some."

  Meg ignored his presence. She directed her gaze to a spot on the leather seat beside him. How could she have imagined, she felt anything for this beast. He was nothing but the vilest of creatures. She shivered as she remembered what she'd done. Oh Lord, what had ever possessed her? He'd told her to stop, but she couldn't. She'd needed to touch him, to discover his body, to love him. Meg's mouth twisted into a ridiculing smile. She didn't, of course. She could never love a man like him. She didn't even like him. It was impossible to love a man you didn't like. Wasn't it? Meg forced back her sigh. She didn't know anymore. All she knew was she was going to escape this madman. And she was going to take the very first opportunity to do it.

  She was angry, but no more so than he. The trouble with women was they couldn't face the truth. No doubt she'd believed she had him under her spell and was disappointed her plan hadn't worked. Well, he could have told her she needn't bother to try. No woman was ever going to make a fool of Tristan Hall. No, she'd have to search a bit farther if it was a fool she wanted.