Some remote part of her registered it wasn’t entirely fair to not give him reasons in turn for the pleasure he gave her but she was helpless to resist, to do the right thing and explain what had brought her here when Hayden was before her, the promise of escape in his touch, the promise of pleasure in his caress. This was what she’d come for.
Hayden’s length pressed against her as if acclimating her body to it — its heat, its length, the power of its hardness. She spread her legs a little wider, shifting against his hips, her mouth at his neck breathing her invitation. “Come in.”
He did. Sliding, pushing, retreating to slide and push again, until the tightness of her stretched about him and she felt the full length of him move inside her, the slickness of her want flowing about him, urging him onward, urging her too. Her arms were about his neck, her face pressed to his shoulder as their bodies clung close, picking up the rhythm of the other’s need. She felt his hands, warm and firm, cup her buttocks and fit her hard against him. Assured of his sheathing, he took her then with a hard thrust.
Jenna cried out at the ferocity, her head falling back. This was what she wanted, this fierceness, this savage pleasure that could obliterate all else in its wake.
She rocked hard against him in encouragement. She would not break. She would save that for when he took them to the cliff of pleasure and over its edge. That cliff was looming, now, coming closer with each primal thrust. She was lost in the sounds of their desire; her unending cries, his groans as he surged into her. She took him deep inside over and over again until there was only the feel of them, the sound of them. Jenna fell back, taking him with her, on top of her, as the climax thundered, ravaging her senses as he slid from her at the very last. She felt the hot seed of him spill against her leg, a hazy reminder of how near it had been. He’d stayed as long as he’d dared in that shattering world of pleasure.
Hayden was breathing hard, his hair falling in his face as he braced himself over her, half on, half off the table. He looked younger, awed, overwhelmed even, as he stared down at her. There was little of the audacious rogue in his face just now. She’d not been ready for that. She reached up and pushed a lock of hair back behind his ear and smiled. “Is this the part where you say ‘I told you so?’” He’d promised to make her burn and he had, in the most spontaneous of ways. But there’d been more than burning between them and that she’d not counted on.
Hayden levered himself off the table and worked his trousers into decency, his eyes refusing to meet hers perhaps in realization of the same thing. What had started out as something mad and frantic and physical had taken a different turn. “This wasn’t about told you so’s.” His voice was gruff. Her joke had offended him.
“No, of course not.” She found the strength to get off the table and arrange her skirts.
“Are you going to tell me what this was all about now?” Hayden asked. “You’ve used me quite well, I’d say. Surely, my performance is worth an explanation.” Heavensakes, he was angry and it shocked her. Perhaps they hadn’t moved past their earlier, hasty challenges after all.
“I thought you didn’t negotiate sex.” It was entirely the wrong thing to say and she regretted the sharpness of it immediately. She’d not come to fight. She’d come to discover, to know.
Hayden gripped her arm, forcing her to meet his gaze. “No, I don’t and you shouldn’t either. Whatever it was you had to tell yourself wasn’t worth it.” His eyes glittered, dangerous blue shards. The rogue was back in his place. “Now, are you going to share with me what this was about?” Hayden released her arm and she picked up her cloak. It was past time to go.
“I’ve already told you.” She had no desire to repeat herself. She had the distinct impression her words might be hurting him, although it was hard to imagine. He’d had countless physical encounters that didn’t have to mean anything. Perhaps it was the role reversal that had him struggling. She’d called the shots. Well, some of them at least. He was most likely used to calling them all; where, when, how much, how long. She’d taken that away from him today and in fact, the whole nature of their association had taken some of that control away from him since the beginning.
“Tell me again.” He stood in front of the fire, arms crossed, feet spread, a very imposing stance on a very imposing figure of a man.
She waited until she reached the door to fling the words. “Curiosity. Nothing more. Thank you for satisfying it most ably.”
It was a mistake. He was on her instantly, his arm reaching over her head and slamming the door shut. She could feel the press of his body against her, every line of him taut. “You can lie to whomever you want, but don’t you dare lie to yourself. You had more than curiosity in mind when you came here. Something prompted this. When you’re ready to tell me what that was, come and find me.” His eyes locked with hers. “I don’t have time for liars, Jenna. I thought you were better than that.”
He stepped back then, freeing her body and even though she was the one to walk out on him, he was the one who had dismissed her. There was no victory in this exit. For the first time since she’d left the house, she was regretting not having brought the carriage. It was growing dark and cold. It would be a long walk home with too many thoughts for company, namely what had she done? She’d not left the house intending on that. She couldn’t quite bring herself to give that a name. She’d had sex and more with Hayden Islington on a table in the King’s Arms private parlor. Moreover, she’d not planned it that way — not in the parlor anyhow. Hayden could talk all he wanted about spontaneity. He’d be surprised to know just how spontaneous this afternoon had been. She’d meant to set a date for it… and well, she’d been through that mentally already. Good intentions being what they were, had hardly come to fruition.
What had come to fruition was something untamed, something far more primal than any planned coupling could command. This hadn’t even been comparable to her experience with Adam. Adam Grantham looked like a callow youth beside Hayden’s superbly delivered pleasures, and on a table nonetheless. There’d been no awkward fumbling with clothes, no hesitant silences. There’d only been passion, hot and furious. One moment they’d been talking and the next he’d been kissing her, caressing her, her body running wild beneath him while he… called her bluff.
Jenna stopped outside her home, her gloved hand curling about a spike of wrought iron fencing. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to summon up the conversation before all desire had broken loose. “It matters when the woman in question has eyes as hard as emerald shards… ” He’d been testing her, testing her resolve. He’d known she was after something. This had been nothing to him, just another of his spontaneous sex games to be played with whoever was willing. Despite her protests to the contrary, he’d proven she was no better than his Miss Last Night, a woman whose body he’d commandeered for pleasure but whose name he couldn’t remember. He had made her want him beyond reason. He didn’t need her to confess to it, her body had done that for her.
That was the hardest part to accept. She’d gone to him because she’d secretly harbored hopes that it would mean something. It didn’t have to mean everything, but she’d wanted it to mean something no matter how small. After the night at the lake, looking up at the stars and telling stories, she’d thought it could mean something. It had moved her and from the look on his face afterwards, she could have sworn it had moved him too. Perhaps it had and that’s why they had exchanged hot words afterwards, too afraid to show their true feelings, too afraid to show how deeply the act had touched them both.
She looked up at the house, the soft glow of lights peering through lace covered windows and drew a calming breath. But the thought lingered. She had not gotten her carefully planned night. She’d gotten something else entirely. He’d goaded her into something wild and spontaneous that she didn’t entirely regret but she did question its purpose. What had he gotten in return? Then she knew. Jenna cursed into the night air. Damn him. He’d promised to make her burn and he had. He�
�d used her to prove his point. He’d used her for sex when it was supposed to have been the other way around.
Chapter Twelve
Damn her. She’d used him for sex when he was so used to it being the other way around. He’d been bluffing in the parlor, thinking she’d never let it go that far, thinking he’d scare her with the spontaneity of his actions, thinking she’d call it off long before he had to or confess to her real purpose. Only she hadn’t, and he hadn’t. What had transpired on that table had been glorious and rough and surely not at all what she’d been planning when she’d approached him. But that didn’t change the fact that he still didn’t know why she’d approached him on that matter to begin with.
Logan gave him a discreet elbow to the ribs and he gave an obligatory head nod to the group of merchants showing him around Derwentwater. Part of him hated the timing of this trip to the nearby town. Hayden wanted to be back in Kendal. He wanted to march up to Jenna Priess’s house and demand the truth from her. But part of him realized that distance wasn’t a bad idea. He needed time to process what had happened between them and why before he confronted her. If he could figure out the answer he wouldn’t have to ask her for it, which would be awkward in itself. He was regretting the ultimatum he’d left her with — that she had to be the one to come to him. He would have to find a way around it.
“We’ve got ice for a good two months of the year and a house we could give you so you wouldn’t have to stay at an inn the entire time.” one of the aldermen was saying. Logan gave him a stern look. He really had to concentrate, and he was concentrating, just not on the business of putting an event together in Derwentwater.
Of course, Jenna hadn’t forced him. The truth was, he’d let her use him. He’d known she was lying or at least obscuring a bit of the truth when he’d begun his bluff. Something had happened to prompt her request. The number of options was limited. Had it been Davenport? Had that bastard made an indecent suggestion? Had it simply been stress that had prompted it?
The tour finished and the group piled into the inn for more conversation and hot toddies. Great, an inn. How was he supposed to not think about Jenna in these surroundings? Whatever had prompted her request had urged her to what happened next--sex on a table in an inn’s private parlor, which wasn’t always that private despite what the adjective implied.
To boil the act down to ‘sex on a table’ was an understatement. Yes, it had been hot and spontaneous, yet one more of his unplanned experiments in the sport of Venus. Yes, it had started as an attempt to see how far she’d let this go before she realized what she asked for was a mistake. But when she did not relent, what had started as a challenge, had become something more. He’d meant to teach her a lesson about playing with fire, but it was he who had been seared. He’d let the pleasure devour him. He’d abandoned himself to it almost from the beginning even knowing there would be a price to pay.
The pretty barmaid put a warm mug in his hands, bending over the table in order to give him a glimpse of her bosom. He smiled politely and took the mug without giving her bosom a second thought. Those were all reserved for Jenna. And he had plenty of them — not regrets entirely, but certainly second thoughts. He’d known something was going on, but his body had overridden the common sense of his mind, and while the actual sex had gone well, the aftermath had not. He did not like where they’d left things and then to have to be gone without rectifying them, somehow made the situation worse. What if she came looking for him and found him absent? Would she think he’d left because of her? Because he was angry or because he didn’t care and life went on as usual?
“One thousand pounds.” Logan’s words cut into his thoughts. That got his attention. They’d never asked a thousand pounds before.
There was shuffling and hedging from the merchants, anxious glances passing back and forth. “That’s a large sum.” the leader of the group answered.
Logan nodded. “I understand, but think of the business we bring. Vendors will come, that is good for trade in general, but vendors and racers need to be fed, as do spectators. Everyone needs a place to stay. This is where the real money is made for the town, for you.” Hayden did his part, nodding his agreement. At least two of the men in this group were inn owners. He could see their eyes start to calculate the profits.
Hayden leaned forward, hands steepled on the table. “There’s the element of risk too, gentlemen. At this price, we are willing to take all the risk for you. You are not putting up your own horses for racing. You are not responsible for any injury my horse or any other sustains on the ice, you are not responsible for any maintenance to the horses. All the riders are to see to their mounts’ shoes and tack, although they will want to use your blacksmith, your livery for those services. You have the opportunity to earn money from the turnpike fees, the boarding and feeding of spectators and participants, fees from vendor licenses or sale percentages depending on how you set that up. Really the only risk you take is whether or not the lake freezes.”
Logan was back in. “That risk is only on the deposit of one hundred pounds, which holds the dates for you. It is non-refundable, but what is that risk, after all? As you say, the lake freezes every year.”
It was smoothly done. Hayden watched the faces of the merchants and inn owners relax. He’d seen it happen dozens of times. He and Logan had the selling of ice races down to a science. “A hundred pounds reserves us. It gives you the certainty that we will come next year and with that certainty, you can start to invite vendors, start to print posters, take out advertisements in local newspapers, get the word out. Events take planning and now you have a year to plan.” Logan finished neatly. “You don’t want to get aced out by Kendal like you did this year.”
The men were nodding vigorously now, ideas coming to them about where to advertise, time lines for organization. Logan smiled across the table at him. Things mopped up quickly after that. They left Derwentwater a hundred pounds richer and assured of a new event next winter. They might go to the same areas each year, but always a new town just to keep things fresh. Derwentwater would be a good opportunity. There would be no Jenna Priess in Derwentwater, further reminder that when the ice melted, he would move on and he would move away. That was how his life worked. He never stayed in one place, never stayed with one woman. Whatever happened in Kendal, stayed in Kendal but he would be gone.
Gone! Two more workers – two boys – had disappeared in the night. The news hit Jenna like a fist to the stomach. That was three in as many weeks. First Paulie, now Thomas and William, all of them younger, none of them older than fifteen. She was glad to be sitting behind her father’s big desk in the study when Davenport told her the news. She didn’t want Davenport to see how strongly the news affected her.
“Were there any indicators they were dissatisfied with their work? Anything at all that would suggest a reason for their rather sudden departure?” She kept her tone professionally neutral as she asked the expected questions. Internally, her mind was racing, her thoughts going back to Hayden’s suspicion that perhaps the foreman knew more than he’d shared, that the foreman was somehow involved in something more than cruel mistreatment. Her stomach clenched at the idea she and her father might have let a wolf loose among the hens.
Jenna knew these boys. They were Daniel’s age. She’d met them when they’d started work last fall. They had families in the area they supported with their wages although the boys lived in the dormitories provided by the mill. What was worse, Davenport knew these boys too. Hayden’s words rocketed through her mind. How much do you pay your foreman? Enough for embroidered rose waistcoats? Could Davenport be capable of sending boys into what constituted slavery? It was a hard truth to accept.
“No signs.” Davenport answered respectfully although she had the sense his ‘respect’ was rather mocking. A thought occurred to her.
“Perhaps you could have their personal belongings sent to their families. I believe they all lived nearby.”
“Of course, I’ll see
to it immediately.” His hand trailed idly, presumptuously over the paperweight on the edge of the desk.
“Is there anything else?” Jenna gave him a cool arch of her eyebrow, wanting to create the impression that their business was concluded and other business awaited. She didn’t have time to while away the day with Allerton Davenport nor did she have the desire but there was clearly something else on his mind. She feared she knew what it was.
“Yes, there is something else I wish to speak of.” He cleared his throat. “How is your father faring? I only ask because it has been so long.” He was trying to be delicate and the effort made her instantly suspicious. Given what she knew of him, what she’d seen of him, he was not a man to concern himself with finer feelings.
“He is still recovering.” It wasn’t exactly a lie but she was not willing to share with Davenport what the doctor had shared with her. Jenna managed a smile. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll let him know you asked after him.”
Davenport didn’t take the hint nor did he agree with her assessment of her father’s health. “With his health affected perhaps more permanently, you might be finding the mill a bit cumbersome. I can’t imagine a lady such as yourself wants to run a mill full time and it seems things might be heading that way. If you were ever interested in selling, I would like to be considered first as a buyer. I have money put aside.”
It was all cordially done and had she not known otherwise, it would have seemed like a possible blessing from heaven if the doctor’s prediction came to pass. But she did know better. She’d seen Allerton Davenport beat an employee, she’d faced the reality that her books didn’t balance and she had employees missing for no reason. She had no proof, but it all seemed to be too great of a coincidence for it to be otherwise. The thought made her sick.
It took self-discipline to sit there and calmly listen to Davenport’s offer when she wanted to throw him out. What would that solve? Hayden’s words kept her temper on a leash. She couldn’t technically blame him for the latter two crimes yet without evidence, but she would not sell to a man she suspected of disreputable behavior especially when she knew what she was dooming her employees to. “Thank you, Mr. Davenport. I will certainly consider it should the need arise. However, I don’t expect it will. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to see to.”
Reckless Rakes - Hayden Islington Page 11