by Lara Temple
She heard his voice against her mouth, a deep growl that made her legs tighten about him again.
‘I want to taste you there...kiss you and take you until you unravel.’
She was unravelling already. His fingers circled and skimmed and tugged and then the chaos became a new rhythm. She was riding his fingers, back and forth, clinging to him, saying things she couldn’t even understand until everything faded into a litany of ‘yes, yes...’ and then that gave way as the ground fell out from under her. She was being torn apart by waves of pleasure so intense there was even a moment of fear that she might never escape this, and then with a long moan it all gave way to warmth, like sliding into a steamy, viscous bath, sliding into a new body.
Her mind came out of its cave and noticed that he was holding her tightly against him, but rigidly. Her body tingled all over, very aware of the cold air against her damp skin, of his hand still pressed against her, but not moving, just holding her. She could feel her pulse there against his fingers, hard thumping beats that slowed as she waked.
Then came embarrassment and she squirmed away from his hand and he let her, but his other hand was still tangled in her hair. Her skirts slid back down her legs and he leaned his forehead against hers and drew in a shaking breath, before stepping back and pulling up her sleeves.
She shuddered and his hands rose towards her again, but fell back, fisting.
‘Are you all right?’ His voice was rough and strained.
‘Yes. I was afraid for a moment.’ Her voice was just as rough and she cleared her throat, adjusting her bodice. His dark brows drew together.
‘I’m sorry, Nell. I swear I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. There was a moment I didn’t know if I would be able to get back. That I might lose myself.’
He didn’t answer right away, but then he took her hands in his. She could feel how stiffly he was holding himself, but she didn’t know what it meant or what to do.
‘You are a humbling experience, Nell. I was trying to find a way to apologise for taking advantage of you, but I don’t think I will. That would be to sully something amazing. You are amazing. Now I am going to thoroughly amaze myself and leave.’
When he reached the door she stepped forward impulsively.
‘Hunter, may I ask you something?’
He paused at the door and took another long breath, as if preparing to plunge into a lake. Then he nodded warily.
‘Why didn’t you...? I don’t think I would have stopped you just then, before. I mean you could have. Didn’t you want to...?’
‘Are you trying to kill me? I am barely clinging to the tatters of honour here which at the moment are so threadbare they are practically transparent. Now, I’m going to my room and you are staying here and I am giving you fair warning that the next time you...we... Goodnight! And lock this door!’
Nell stared at the closed door. Her laugh startled her and she looked guiltily about her room. It didn’t look any different, but it was. She was.
* * *
Hunter closed the door to his room and leaned his forehead against it, debating whether to lock it just to make the point very clear that on no account was he to head back down the hallway and take advantage of his impossibly seductive betrothed.
Except that he was in absolute agony. If someone had told him a week ago that he would be standing with his hand on the doorknob of his room, desperately trying to prevent himself from going to complete the seduction of an inexperienced virgin, he would have drunk a toast to their fertile imagination.
Inexperienced. Not the most experienced of his mistresses had ever reduced him to such a state of quivering need and it certainly wasn’t her innocence that was doing the trick. She had given herself over to pleasure with a hedonistic abandon and her release was the most beautiful surrender he had ever seen. Her eyes, warmed to melting, had fixed on his, giving him more than he was giving her, locking him into her joy, promising him the same if he would just let her.
The girl was a natural wanton. He should have known that was so even years ago from the way she had ridden Petra. She had been freedom and joy incarnate, just waiting to slip the leash that life and her brutal aunt and apathetic father had cinched around her. Well, she was slipping it now and he was just slipping.
‘Oh, hell.’ He groaned, shoving his forehead harder against the door. This was pathetic. Every single one of his stratagems was coming back to bite him. But what he couldn’t do, no matter how much he needed to, was take further advantage of her state of arousal and confusion. Maybe he should. Just go bed her and have done with it. Then the choice would be taken away. Maybe it already had. He might not have taken her maidenhead, but he had done something worse. He had seen her joy and right now he felt he would kill before he let another man see her as he had. It would also finally put to rest whatever idiotic girlish fantasies she might still harbour about Welbeck, because if that man touched her just one more time, he would... He had been so entangled in the moment he had been completely unprepared when Welbeck had waylaid them as they left the green. He had just watched dumbly as she had taken the man’s hand and followed him back towards the chaos of dancers as if she hadn’t all but melted against him a moment earlier. She hadn’t even looked back once, just smiled at Welbeck and placed her hand in his like this was the one moment she had been waiting for.
Could she still, even after what she had witnessed, be caught in her childish fantasy? He had really begun to believe she no longer cared for Welbeck, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. He had barely held himself back from following them, pulling her hand from Welbeck’s and staking his claim like the cave dweller he was deteriorating into. But if that was what Nell had been waiting for—her dance with her prince—to ruin that, to do anything at that point, would be cruelty incarnate. He couldn’t do that to her, whatever it cost him to stand there and suffer the spears of hell as she looked up at Welbeck, her lips parted and a ribbon of pale gold hair loosening down her back...
He was becoming well acquainted with all forms of agony these past few days. He might have years of experience having pugilists pummel him, but these kinds of levellers were new to him and that scared him.
For the first time in his life he wanted someone to see him as he was.
Heat and clammy cold spread through him in waves, just like they did when he woke from the nightmare, as if the admission itself was a virulent disease. He had never needed anyone. People needed him, not the other way around. His mother, his brother, his aunts, his mistresses. Just as it should be. Not one of them had ever taken him by the hand and tried to soothe him and he had never wanted them to, until now. This girl had reduced him to a fool barely worthy of a lending-library novel. The worst was that some no longer hidden corner of himself was enjoying it and looking forward to more of the same.
He had to clear his mind and think.
Even if he succeeded in seducing her into marrying him, playing on her pain and disappointment with Charles, what did he think was going to happen? Nell would not be easily stowed away at Hunter Hall while he went about his business. Sooner or later he would slip up and she would discover his weakness and then what? In fact, it had been getting progressively worse this week. At least until recently the nightmare, horrific though it was, had been a kind of fixed constant. She had forced her way into his horror, making it a thousand times worse as he was helplessly forced to witness her destruction. How could he cope with watching himself fail her every night? What if one night he actually acted on that terror and hurt her? Biggs and Hidgins knew better than to approach him at night and at Hunter Hall his own wing was far from the servants, but what would happen if she became curious? How could he protect her from himself?
He gritted his teeth, trying to force a way through the physical and mental confusion. He wanted to go to her room and just t
ell her what she had done to him. What he needed from her. Then he would slide the remaining pins from her hair and finally do something about this raging fire that was surely damaging his higher faculties.
The only stable points in his seething mind were the need to go to her and the determination not to. He groaned and locked the door. The way he felt right now, he doubted he would manage to sleep, but right now he would even welcome the nightmares if they gave him some respite from this aching need.
Chapter Fourteen
Nell stopped in the doorway of Lady Welbeck’s parlour and the mid-morning sun bounced brightly off Charles’s curls as he turned towards her.
‘I was told your mother was here.’
He glanced around the room, looking flustered.
‘I was looking for her as well. I dare say she’ll return soon. But I’m glad you are here, Nell. I want to speak with you...’
She took a step back, shaking her head. ‘I really must pack. I just wanted to thank her.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘Yes. If my father does arrive, please inform him I will be at Bascombe. Thank you for your hospitality, Charles.’
He grasped her hand, stopping her.
‘Wait, Nell. Please don’t leave. We were just becoming reacquainted. I realise you saw me and...well...but it doesn’t mean anything!’
‘Please don’t deny your relation with Lady Melkinson, Charles. I really don’t care.’
His hands tightened on hers.
‘I don’t know what Phyllida told you, but I promise there is nothing serious between us.’
She tugged her hands away.
‘Your affairs are of no interest to me. This is not only unnecessary but improper, Charles. I am engaged.’
For the first time she saw anger and frustration mar his pretty face.
‘Are you? You didn’t really discourage me this week, betrothed or not. So what if I had another interest? Everyone has them. I promise you that once I’m married I’ll be faithful, which is more than your fiancé is likely to offer. Together we can turn the Welbeck stables into the finest in England. Think of it, Nell...’
His voice and face softened again, lighting with the smile that had been the staple of her dreams for years.
‘What do you say, Nell? Tell Hunter you’ve found what you want right here. You’ll make me the happiest man on earth...darling,’ he murmured, his arms sliding down her back.
His mouth settled on hers, soft and coaxing. She had been searching for certainty in the chaos of feelings and revelations this past week and now she had it, just not the kind she had expected. She felt the scrape of her lips over her teeth as he pressed his mouth to hers and his taste was all wrong. She twisted away.
‘Charles, stop. I don’t want you to kiss me.’
‘Yes, you do. You’ve been begging for this since the day you showed up. Don’t play coy now, Nell. You’re a passionate woman now. Let me show you, darling.’
She pulled away sharply as his head descended again and they both stumbled backwards, his foot catching the flounce of her dress with an ominous ripping sound. She tried to grab at a small table, but it just came with them and the garish figurine of a courting shepherd and shepherdess bounced and somersaulted onto the wooden floor, sending porcelain lovers and sheep in all directions as they landed on the floor, her shoulder making painful contact with his cheekbone.
‘Blast! Now look what you’ve done!’ Charles accused, rubbing his reddened cheek.
‘What I’ve done? I told you not to kiss me!’
‘You wanted me to!’
‘I did not!’ she snapped, scrambling to her knees and gathering pieces of the shattered statuette. When he didn’t respond to her juvenile denial she glanced up and realised they were no longer alone. Standing just inside the doorway were Lord and Lady Welbeck, Hunter and her father.
‘Nell!’ her father bellowed.
‘What on earth is going on here? Oh, my shepherdess!’ said Lady Welbeck, hurrying towards the debris.
Nell remained where she was, vaguely wondering where her father had sprung from, but her attention was on Hunter as he strode towards her. She took his outstretched hand, shaking a beheaded sheep from her skirts. Charles also moved towards her, but stopped as Hunter turned, the look on his face as palpable as a blow. Without thinking, Nell tightened her grip on Hunter’s hand and they stood suspended. Then the moment of near violence passed as Lord Welbeck went to right the table.
‘What has happened in this room?’ Lady Welbeck demanded.
‘Yes, do tell us what precisely happened to your face, Welbeck,’ Hunter added. ‘And to Miss Tilney’s dress as well.’
‘I fell,’ Nell said quickly.
‘I...uh, tripped,’ Charles said at precisely the same time. Hunter bared his teeth.
‘I suggest you practise to be less clumsy in future, Welbeck,’ he said, pulling Nell past her father’s immobile and frowning figure. ‘Or if you must trip, do so as far from my betrothed as possible.’
Nell didn’t particularly like being all but dragged along like a child, but the truth was that she was glad to be extracted from that room. At her door Hunter merely opened it and walked in.
‘You can’t come in here!’
‘It’s a bit late for prudery, isn’t it? I’ve been here twice already. Besides, in light of your tryst with Welbeck, protestations of delicacy are out of place right now.’
‘We didn’t... It wasn’t a tryst.’
‘I see. You merely fell. Oh, sorry, it was Welbeck who “tripped”. You should co-ordinate your stories ahead of time when next you plan to “fall” or “trip”.’
‘I was merely looking for Lady Welbeck to tell her I was leaving, but Charles was there and...he proposed to me.’
She went and sat on the side of the bed, feeling a little ill. Her father was here and now she would have to gather the strength to follow through on her agreement with Hunter. He would receive his water rights and she would receive her freedom... She was shaking inside, not like an attack, just with loneliness and the anticipation of pain. What would Hunter do if she asked him to sit down by her and just hold her hand? Maybe even ask him if he would reconsider his offer?
Silly fool.
‘So the little girl gets her prince.’ Hunter spoke at last, his words harsh and mocking. ‘Phyllida had the right of it after all. You played us all finely, didn’t you? A bit melodramatic for my taste since it was clear from the moment we arrived Welbeck was more than willing. Flirting quite that outrageously with me was a bit of a risk, though, don’t you think? Or were you having too much fun playing all fronts by then to care? You probably expect me to congratulate you, too.’
‘I don’t expect anything.’ Her words were as muted and dull as she felt. There was no point. He had begun his acquaintance with her feeling pity and now it would end with him feeling contempt. She must have been mad to think there was something she could offer him.
She hardly even noticed the knock until Hunter spoke.
‘Get rid of whoever it is,’ he snarled under his breath, moving in the direction of the dressing room.
Nell walked over and cracked open the door.
‘My dear, dear Nell, may I come in?’
‘Lady Welbeck! What? No! I mean, is something wrong?’ Nell remained lodged firmly behind the door and Lady Welbeck glimpsed worriedly up and down the empty corridor before hurrying into speech.
‘My dear, how can you ask me that? I am quite distraught at my failure as a chaperon and hostess. Lord Welbeck and Charles are with your father now, trying to explain... What will Sir Henry think of us? You must believe it is only because my poor Charles is so very passionately attached to you that he has allowed his emotions to overcome his judgement. He is quite, quite broken-hearted, my dear.
I know you have always loved him and surely such deeply rooted tender feelings cannot be dislodged merely by a momentary lapse in dear Charles’s restraint. Men, my dear, are often swayed by urges us women know little of and it behoves us to show patience if—’
‘Lady Welbeck,’ Nell interrupted this flow as firmly as possible, ‘there is no possibility of an alliance between Charles and I.’
‘None?’ asked Lady Welbeck wistfully.
‘None, Lady Welbeck. Thank you for your hospitality, but I really must pack.’
Gently but firmly she closed the door.
‘You refused Welbeck’s offer? Why didn’t you say so?’
Hunter had himself under control now, and though his eyes were still intent and darker than usual, the anger that had pressed at her was, if not gone, at least well hidden. Was he worried now she had abandoned her plans to marry Charles he might have to marry her after all?
‘When during your tantrum was I supposed to do that?’
‘My tantrum... Did you refuse him because of Phyllida?’
‘No, not because of your precious Phyllida. Now if you have nothing useful to say, would you please leave? I must send for Betsy so I can pack.’
‘She’s not mine, thank heavens, and we’re not done yet.’
‘If you won’t leave I shall start packing anyway.’
She marched over to the dresser and ceremoniously extracted a carefully folded stack of chemises, placing them on her bed. If she had expected to embarrass Hunter into leaving she had clearly miscalculated, for he just leaned back against the wall and watched. She wavered, realising she had chosen a very inappropriate threat, and though she might have come a long way from the inexperienced girl of a week ago, she still wasn’t comfortable standing in front of a man with a stack of undergarments in her arms.
She was saved from backing down by another knock on the door. Hunter shifted against the wall, but otherwise didn’t speak as she laid the stack on the bed and went to open the door a crack. When she saw who it was, it took all her determination not to slam the door shut again.