by Lara Temple
‘I want to touch you again. There,’ she said against his mouth, or tried to say because her voice would hardly form, so she made her point by pressing her hips even more insistently to his.
Once again he stopped and his arms closed around her, freezing them for a moment.
‘Not a good idea right now.’ He sounded underwater. ‘This is your last chance to draw back.’
She tightened her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe to say the words against his mouth.
‘You will have to forcibly remove me from this house if you want me to leave. You should probably dress me first, but don’t expect any help from me.’
He grunted and swung her into his arms and turned towards the door and for a shocked moment she wondered if he would carry through on his threat and put her out as she was, but then his long strides took them up the stairs and she leaned back against him, smiling in relief.
‘I’m awfully heavy,’ she said apologetically as they made it to the top.
His arms tightened on her.
‘You’re perfect.’
‘You must be drunk.’ She laughed and he nudged open a door and slid her down his body, his hands shaping her, curving and lingering over her buttocks, and her legs tried to separate, to make room for something.
‘Not any more. Not on brandy. Wait here. I’ll light a fire.’
She grabbed at him as he started to move away.
‘I don’t need a fire. I’m already on fire. I need you to do something about it.’
He cupped her face in his hands and rested his forehead on hers for a moment.
‘Very well. There are other ways to keep you warm.’
Not warm. Ablaze. That was what it felt like when her breasts finally were pressed against his chest. How on earth would she ever be able to move away again? He was as hard as a sculpture, but silky smooth and hot, and the hair on his chest teased her breasts, making it impossible not to move against him, rub herself over him like a cat begging for a caress. His growl did sound like some species of the larger of the feline family as his hand obliged her, gathering her against him again. With his other he released the fall of his pantaloons to strip them off, but before she could even register the long hard heat of his arousal pressed against her she found herself on her back on a bed that must have been one of the biggest she had ever seen.
She lay there, absorbing this new state of affairs, one of her legs bent on the bed, the other dangling over its side, her hair scattered everywhere. She was naked except for her stockings while a very tall, very large, very naked and very aroused man stood over her with a look that gave credence to all his talk about marauding. Then he smiled, a very marauding smile. His gaze moved over her, slowly, his expression shifting with each curve and dip travelled, heating her as he went. It was an invasion and a branding and when he reached her abdomen her legs drew together protectively, but he leaned his knee on the bed between them so that they clamped against him. He traced her cheek with his knuckles, so softly she had to turn her head into the caress to feel him.
‘Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful. All of you.’
She could feel her body shake and she sank her teeth into her lip to hold back the words. It was too soon, too much. She said the words loudly inside her head so that they wouldn’t escape.
Mine. Hunter. My love.
* * *
Hunter watched her teeth sink into the plump rise of flesh and his own lips were singed with heat. He wanted her to sink her teeth into him, into any part of him. The need to see her lips part, open for him, just as he wanted her legs to open for him, felt like a compulsion. He was still sane enough to know he was falling off a cliff, but there was nothing to grasp to slow him down. He needed to be closer; he needed to feel her pliant, lithe body under him, over him. He needed her scent, her heat. It felt as though he needed to be inside her more than he needed to breathe.
He was still not clear how his erotic dreams of Nell had become a reality. How he had gone from black despair to this wanton display of long sleek limbs and impossibly silky hair on his bed, but it didn’t matter. He would deal with the challenges somehow. Nothing mattered but that she was here, with him, his. She was his and would soon be irrevocably so. He was done being sensible.
He lay down beside her, sliding one leg over hers to anchor the warmth of her thighs in case she had any ideas about moving as he worked his hand upwards from her hip. When his fingers reached the shadowed curve below her breast her chest expanded on a panting breath and her lip finally slipped out, moist and reddened, and it was all he could do not to just haul himself on top of her, spread her legs, thrust into her, disappear into her damp heat until he erased himself completely.
His erection was as hard as a rock against the bite of her hip bone, but he stayed where he was, just cupping her beautiful cream and rose breast, his thumb brushing just below the nipple, watching it harden, gather, as it had downstairs, until her neck arched back in a cry she wouldn’t release. He bent and tasted that arch, salty sweet and filled with her wildflower scent. He breathed it in, trying to capture it, like the last breath of air before sinking to the bottom of an unrelenting sea.
‘You’re mine. Mine...’ he whispered against her skin, tasting her, kissing her, grating his lips and teeth and tongue over her skin until she began to squirm against him, her panting breath raising her body against his, her legs trying to part under the weight of his. One of her arms had anchored around his shoulder and her fingers bit into his flesh, sending sharp spears of pain and pleasure through him.
‘Hunter,’ she moaned. ‘Stop, please, do something!’
‘Do you want me to stop?’ he murmured against her breast, his lips drawing in her nipple, tracing it with his tongue, rough and soft. He slid his fingers through the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs. She was so damp and hot his own hips surged against his will.
‘No, oh, don’t stop. Please...’ She twisted and he shifted, letting her spread her legs to his fingers, her own leg sliding between his, seeking his tension, his weight. It pressed against his erection and he breathed in, concentrating only on the music of her body. He wanted...he needed to pleasure her, to watch that golden moment of joy and light once again.
‘Just relax,’ he whispered against her lips, coaxing and sliding. ‘Trust me. Open your legs for me, sweetheart.’
A shudder ran through her and she sighed, lying supine as he stroked away the tension from her body, until she shuddered again, half-rising on her side to press against his body, her legs parting, and he slid his hand between her thighs, finding the silky skin, so hot and damp he couldn’t control his own shudder of desire. But he concentrated on the slow torture of teasing her towards ecstasy with his fingers and body and mouth, using every skill he had and every ounce of self-control that remained to focus purely on her. Her body rose against his hand, finding her rhythm, now guiding him, her hands moving to touch him as he touched her, testing his control to its limits.
Almost as devastating as her hands were her little moans as she began to writhe under him, telling him she was so close. He wanted desperately to taste her, drink her in, but he held back. There would be time enough for that, for everything. She was his.
‘Hunter, don’t stop, please, I need to feel you.’ Her voice was sapping his concentration and his resolve and when she pulled him to her he didn’t offer much resistance. She moaned as his weight pressed her back onto the bed, her legs spreading for him, rising against his erection and burning through whatever part of his mind was still conscious and in control.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he managed to gasp out as her legs anchored around him, pulling him closer, sliding against his arousal and his fingers.
‘I want this,’ she whispered, her gaze holding his as she traced her fingertips down his chest. ‘Even the pain.’
Her
hands ran down his back, sliding over his buttocks as she raised her hips slightly. He groaned at the friction.
‘If it hurts too much, stop me. I’ll stop, I swear.’
Her hair gleamed gold as she shook her head.
‘I want you.’
His last coherent thought as she began following and matching the motion of his body was that he hoped she would still feel the same when she eventually realised what he was. Then he was only sensation, the rising build of beautiful tension he could feel in her body until her head arched back as she climaxed, calling out his name, and he abandoned scruples and control and sank into her, pushing past the resistance of her maidenhead, a confusion of contrition and joyous possession and physical exultation.
She froze for a moment, her nails digging into his shoulders, but then her body shifted, taking him in, and he heard his voice call her name again and again as he moved, the waves of pleasure crashing over him, reducing him to a single point of joy. Just her name, but inside the vastness of his body as it rose to break into a million shards of pleasure was a deeper cry.
I love you. My Nell. I need you.
Just don’t let me fall asleep.
* * *
He was crushing her, he realised sleepily, forcing himself to shift his weight and pulling her on top of him as he groped for the blanket. He wasn’t in the least cold himself, not with the blood flowing tangibly through his veins and her long body was stretched the length of him and her breath against his neck and her beautiful breasts...
Nell. Here, in his bed. His. If this was a dream, it more than compensated for his years of nightmares.
He opened his eyes in the dark. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t afford to go to sleep.
‘I’ll light a fire.’
She murmured something and reached for him, then snuggled deeper under the blanket, and he fought the urge to climb back into bed with her and just...
He took his dressing gown and went to bring a candle from the hall, stopping as Biggs climbed the last stair with a neatly folded pile of very feminine clothes in his arms.
‘Here are Miss Nell’s clothes, my lord. Will you be needing anything else?’
‘I...’ Oh, what was the harm? ‘Yes. Some hot water and linen.’
‘Shall I send word to Hidgins you will be needing him to drive Miss Nell to the Red Lion afterwards, sir?’
Hunter grimaced at the unspoken rebuke, but nodded. He didn’t want to let her go, but considerations of propriety aside, he couldn’t allow her to stay the night. He didn’t yet know how he would keep her and still manage to keep her safe from him. There had to be a way, but right now his brain was too contented to think clearly. She was here. She was his. He would deal with reality later.
Back inside the room he crouched down to light the fire and then with a deep breath he went to sit down on the side of the bed, gently stroking her thigh through the sheet, enjoying the very feeling of having her here in his bed. He was glad no woman had ever been in this bed before. This was Nell’s place now. When she was in London he would have to find somewhere else to sleep, perhaps fit one of the rooms on the empty floor above. Even if he wasn’t sleeping in it, he wanted to know she was in his bed.
The nascent flames struck her eyes with silver and her hair with gold where it spread over his pillows. Then her eyelids fluttered down and in an instant he was submerged in scalding heat again, as if his release had merely been a prelude. He bent towards her, but drew back at the soft scratching on the door, and she disappeared under the blanket with a faint squeak. Hunter suppressed a groan and drew back. He should have sent for cold water instead.
‘You can come in, Biggs.’
Biggs entered, his eyes firmly on the broad tray he carried, but his voice was suspiciously shaky.
‘Hot water, linen towels and a spare dressing gown. Anything else, sir?’
Once Biggs left, Hunter rose resolutely and took the dressing gown from the pile. Nell sat up, clutching the blanket to her, and he draped the dressing gown gently over her shoulders. It swallowed her up, drooping over her arms, and he remembered how she had looked in his jacket in the Welbeck gardens just a few days ago, a whole existence ago. She looked up and he saw the memory mirrored in her eyes and he kissed her quickly and moved back.
‘Later I will have Biggs prepare a bath and join you in it, but for the moment we will make do with this. Are you very sore?’
She shook her head, but her flush was so extreme he could tell she probably wouldn’t tell him if she was. He really should leave her, give her some privacy to deal with this herself, but he didn’t want to, not yet. The ritual wasn’t complete. It would be like leaving a wedding before the vows were spoken.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said gently as he dipped the linen into the water. ‘Just relax.’
‘You said that before,’ she answered, her voice hitching on the end as he moved towards her.
‘So I did. I’m consistent. Just open your legs... And don’t tell me I said that before as well.’
Her hand shot out and grasped his arm, stopping him. Then she let go.
‘You did.’
‘I told you; I’m consistent.’
When he was done she looked up suddenly and smiled. He turned away, battling another wave of pain, this time in his chest. He should feel calmer now that she was unequivocally his, but he didn’t. In fact, a peculiar fear was taking hold of him and he fell back on the safety of practicality.
‘When you are dressed I will see you back to the Red Lion and tomorrow I will go to Doctors’ Commons to procure a special licence so we can make an honest woman of you.’
She sat down on the side of the bed, holding her clothes to her chest.
‘No, Hunter. I didn’t come here to entrap you into marrying me.’ She was pale, but her voice was very clear and he felt his nerves stretch further.
‘I know that. There is no question of entrapping. We are far beyond that. We have other matters to discuss.’
‘Such as?’
Her eyes narrowed into her stubborn look and he hesitated.
‘How we are going to proceed. I didn’t want you...anyone to know about...my difficulty sleeping. But I can’t very well push that under the rug now, can I? I will just have to make sure you aren’t...exposed to any risk.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘Putting aside the question of marriage for the moment, how precisely would you propose to do that?’
‘Well, you will be at Hunter Hall most of the time and I will arrange for a bedroom in the East Wing which is closer to the servants and where you won’t be...disturbed.’
‘I see. And here in London?’
‘You will probably spend less time here and when you are here I will sleep in a bedroom on the next floor. The house is big enough.’
She crossed her arms.
‘No.’
‘What, no?’ he asked, wary of her expression. That determined look typically boded ill for him.
‘I told you, I didn’t come here to force you to do something you so obviously find onerous. I came here knowing that I wanted to be part of your life, even as a mistress, and I am willing to pay the price for that choice. But I am not willing to marry you because you think it is the right thing to do. If you ever do wish to marry me...I mean really wish to marry me because you want to be with me, I will consider it, but I will not agree to a cold-blooded arrangement based on your arbitrary conditions.’
‘Damn it, they aren’t arbitrary conditions. They are measures. For your safety.’
‘No, they’re for your safety!’
‘Nell, don’t you understand how serious this is? I cannot allow myself to fall asleep with you and if you are here...all the time... Damn it, you must see why there has to be some distance between us. I had to fight to stay aw
ake just now! If I start relaxing my guard... I have to protect you...’
He was begging again, but she didn’t look in the least understanding. She looked adamant. She stood and picked up her clothes.
‘You loved Tim and you felt responsible for him and frustrated with him and it all mixes up to feeling responsible for his life and his death, and however much I don’t think you have any grounds for guilt, I can understand that in a way it is inevitable. But this is different, Hunter. I do not need to be protected from myself or from you and I won’t allow you to dictate my life based on considerations of safety. I am willing to risk my heart with you. I am not willing to be put in a box because you are scared of risking yours. Now, I really should return to the Red Lion. When you are willing to talk sensibly, we can discuss this further.’
‘You are mad! There is nothing to discuss. We have already anticipated the wedding night. Now there is only a very simple “Yes, I will”!’
She shrugged her dress over her chemise.
‘No, I won’t.’
He turned away and grabbed his own clothes and began dressing, trying to ignore the eager rush of heat that had burst in him at her melodramatic nonsense about risking hearts. He might have revised his own assessment about whether or not love was a fantasy, but he couldn’t forget that a week ago this girl had thought herself head over heels in love with another man. Now simply because she had fallen out of love with Welbeck and into sexual excitement with him, she fancied herself in love again. Well, however much he might want it to be true, he wasn’t so gullible. Besides, none of that changed the fact that the issue wasn’t even in question—of course she was going to marry him.
‘You don’t have the prerogative of saying no, not after last night. Has it escaped your notice that you might even now be carrying the next Lord Hunter?’