Night Storm

by Catherine Coulter

  Genny felt pain and rawness, but then she felt his fingers coming between their bodies to find her and caress her. And she moved against his fingers. When he told her to hug her legs around his flanks, she obeyed him. She felt him come deeper into her and then his fingers found his rhythm and she knew that everything would be different now. She was dissolving into someone different, a Genny she didn’t yet know or understand. She just knew she was no longer Genny Paxton, that young woman who’d lived within herself, sufficient unto herself, a young woman no man had ever touched in any way.

  But Alec touched her.

  She screamed, her body flying out of control, and she looked up at his face and saw him staring down at her, surprise in his eyes, then heard his hoarse groans. He was driving into her savagely and she welcomed it and his fingers and she didn’t want it to stop, ever.

  He was deep inside her. He felt his seed deep within her and her virgin’s blood but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He managed finally to come up onto his elbows.

  Her eyes were closed, her lashes long and damp on her cheeks. She looked to be asleep.

  He said very quietly, “Marry me, Genny.”

  Thirteen

  Genny wasn’t asleep. She was stunned at what had just passed between them. She couldn’t even focus on his softly spoken words.

  “What did you say, Alec?”

  He paused, not wanting to repeat himself, because he suddenly realized it was too soon and Genny was too vulnerable and he—well, he didn’t know what he wanted or what he was going to do. No, that wasn’t precisely true, but still, he shouldn’t rush his fences. He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, then said easily, “It was nothing really, just nonsense. I was commenting on how you were holding me inside you so tightly I want to ravage you again. What do you think?”

  “You did your commenting in a remarkably short number of words the first time.”

  He chuckled, but it sounded a bit strained to her ears. She sighed, saying, “Oh, I don’t want to be rational again. I just want to stay like this for a very long time—sort of weak and easy and soft in the head—”

  “And everywhere else as well.”

  She shifted beneath him and he filled her again, hard and wanting her. It was odd the way she affected him. “Soft and tight around me, that’s what you are, Genny. Am I also crushing you?”

  She shook her head, unable to respond to his words.

  “Won’t you look at me? Since I’m your first man, Genny, I need to be reassured that I pleasured you sufficiently.”

  She opened her eyes at that bit of nonsense. “I don’t know what’s sufficient and what isn’t.”

  “Well, you screamed and bucked and dug your nails into my back, into my shoulders. I think you even bit my mouth—”

  “You were sufficient.”

  “Good. I don’t think I want to be exceedingly sufficient, otherwise you might have killed me with your ardor. I’m glad you’re seeing things the way they’re meant to be seen.” He moved slightly within her. “Does that hurt you?”

  “No. Perhaps a little.”

  He moved again, just a little bit, drawing back, then pushing very slowly forward, feeling her muscles tighten and convulse around him. He closed his eyes at the intense sensation and held himself still.

  Genny said in a thoughtful voice, “Well, I’ve done it once and nothing awful happened. Did you know that young girls are told again and again that they should never, ever allow a man to touch them, and if they allow liberties of any kind, the consequences would make their hair fall out. Or something equally repulsive. I think my hair’s still on my head.”

  He grinned down at her. “Yes, it is, but it’s a bit sweaty now from all your exertions.”

  “Well, that’s a bit embarrassing but hardly a dire consequence. Thank you, Alec. I’m beginning to feel like a very smart woman of science who’s succeeded wonderfully in her experiment. I’ve solved a mystery. I’m free now.”

  Her words, meant to cloak her feelings, succeeded admirably, and he was angered beyond all reason. So she’d just used him, had she? Not cared about him, merely wanted his man’s body for her own bloody female purposes? He gritted his teeth against showing her his anger and his growing sense of injustice. What surprised him, however, was that his anger translated directly into his sex, and without saying a word, without more thought, he was pushing into her again, rhythmically and deeply.

  “Alec?”

  “Well, I haven’t solved the mystery yet. Open your legs wider, Genny, and push up against me. Yes, that’s it.”

  “But I don’t want this, you—ah, Alec.”

  “That’s right, don’t think, just feel.”

  Genny tried to keep her moans to herself and she succeeded for about three seconds. Then she was wrapping her legs around his flanks. He lifted her in his hands and worked her against him. What he was doing to her, what he was saying to her, were incredibly erotic, but she didn’t want to succumb to him again, to lose all sense of self. It was frightening to become lost in another person, to give oneself over, to be swirled away by feelings that were beyond logic and command. “Do you know how many ways I can take you, Genny? How many ways I can pleasure you until you’re yelling? This is the time-honored way, you on your beautiful back, your legs up and wide apart for me. But you’ll see. I’ll turn you on your stomach and lift your hips and then come into you from the back—it’s so deep that way, Genny, and I’ll hold your breasts in my hands at the same time.” He groaned and she wondered if he was reacting as strongly to his own words as she was. “Feel how you’re closing so tightly around me—yes, bring your legs up higher. Yes, yes.”

  Suddenly, without warning, he jerked out of her. She cried out, her hands tugging at his shoulders to bring him back into her, but he was gone. Just as suddenly, his arms hooked around her thighs and he lifted her. She saw his intent expression before he lowered his head and found her and caressed her with his mouth, and she found the pleasure so beyond anything she could have imagined that it was nearly pain, but she didn’t want him to stop. She was crying now, her head twisting back and forth on the tangled sheets, her fists striking against the bed at her sides, her back arching, and still he pushed her, drew back, pushed her again.

  “Alec, oh, please.” He quickly replaced his mouth with his fingers so he could watch her face as she climaxed. It was beyond anything he could have imagined, the expressions on her face. He’d brought her to this. He’d made her spin out of herself. He’d made her lose all control and become precisely what it was he wanted. Before the feelings faded, he came down into her, thrusting deep.

  Experiment, hell.

  Ridiculous woman. She was his now. And that was that.

  He’d made up his mind.

  She was asleep this time, an exhausted sleep. Alec gently eased down beside her and straightened the blankets over them.

  “Silly woman,” he said, and kissed her forehead. He brought her over to lie on her side, her head upon his shoulder. Her hair cascaded over his chest, thick and soft. “This is where you belong and I’ll thank you not to forget it.”

  Genny moaned softly in her sleep.

  He kissed her again. He settled himself then, closing his eyes. He remembered refusing to make love to her that night the previous week because of his honor and her father. He wondered if she’d take him to task over that. The truth of the matter was that he’d made love to her, in part, for her father; at least that sounded plausible to a sated man’s brain. She had to marry him now.

  He hoped he’d gotten her with child.

  She had to realize that what he’d done was what her father had wanted. Had James known that Alec would force her hand like this? Probably; the man had been very perceptive. He’d also known that Alec wanted his daughter.

  Alec sighed.

  “Papa?”

  He jerked up, his sleep-fogged brain clearing miraculously when he saw Hallie standing in the doorway. He should have locked the door. Damn. It was hard,
but he managed to get hold of himself, to dredge up a welcoming smile.

  He’d never let Hallie know that she was the last person he wanted to see at this particular time. “Good morning, pumpkin. Isn’t it awfully early for you to be wandering around the halls?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up, so it can’t be too early. There’s a little bit of sun out, Papa. Why are you cuddling Genny?”

  The Genny in question stirred, sighed, stretched, and opened her eyes upon a five-year-old girl standing in her room, a model ship—a frigate, if she wasn’t mistaken—under her arm.

  Genny groaned and buried her head under Alec’s arm.

  “Don’t be a coward. Come here, Hallie. It’s cold. Oh, and shut the door, if you please.”

  “Oh, no,” Genny said again, burrowing deeper.

  “Why are you cuddling Genny? Why is she making funny noises and buried under you?”

  “Good morning, Hallie,” Genny said, poking her head up. But she couldn’t straighten. She was quite naked. She clutched the cover to her throat and tried to scoot up in the bed. Alec, however, had other ideas. He tightened his arm around her and she couldn’t move.

  “I sometimes sleep with Papa,” Hallie said, and continued looking at them in that very accepting, very unblinking way.

  “There’s probably still some room, pumpkin. Come here. Genny won’t mind and she’ll help keep you warm.”

  “Oh, no,” Genny said again, completely routed.

  Hallie carefully set her frigate on the night table, then climbed onto the bed. She crawled in between Genny and Alec. Alec kept himself and Genny covered with a sheet and arranged Hallie on top.

  “Settle in, love. There, that’s good.”

  He pulled the covers over all of them, then lay on his back, his right arm outstretched, Hallie’s head resting on his shoulder and Genny’s resting in the crook of his elbow.

  “This is nice,” Hallie announced. “Genny’s as warm as you are, Papa.”

  “Oh, no,” Genny said.

  “Why did you come into Genny’s room, Hallie?”

  “I went to your room first, Papa, but you weren’t there. I knew you liked Genny, so I came here.”

  Alec chuckled. “Genny, if you moan one more time, I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

  “Will I get a little brother or sister now?”

  Genny didn’t moan. She gasped.

  Alec said easily, “We’ll see, pumpkin. These things take time, you know. But I’ll keep trying. Do you think you can get along with Genny all right?”

  Hallie was thoughtfully silent. Finally she said, “I like her a lot more than that lady, Miss Chadwick, who was always telling me what a sweet little plum I was. She was horrid, Papa, but you liked her so much I didn’t say anything.”

  Alec said over Hallie’s head to Genny, “This infant’s idea of not saying anything in order to protect her poor papa’s sensibilities was to pour a very dismal-tasting punch into Miss Chadwick’s slippers. The lady had removed them after a particularly zealous waltz, you see, and when she did, Hallie struck.”

  “She yelled,” Hallie said with great pleasure. “And her face turned quite an ugly red. A Chinese red, Papa said. He was laughing, but that was later.”

  “Did you really like this Miss Chadwick?”

  Alec heard acrimony, he knew it, and it pleased him inordinately. “She was quite an enthusiastic partner. I had no intention of marrying her, however.”

  “You just sail from port to port finding compatible partners, all of them willing, even standing in a line, waiting for you to hand out your favors.”

  “Hmm, an interesting concept. I told you I’m just a man, Genny. I haven’t all that many favors to hand out at any one time. And this time, well—in Baltimore I was far more fortunate. I found a more-than-compatible mistress to bestow my many favors upon. I just might also have found myself a wife. I’m pleased with the outcome.”

  “Your daughter is lying between us, all ears, I doubt not.”

  “Hallie, are you asleep?”

  “No, Papa.”

  “See, I told you! And you know I can’t tell you what I really think of you.”

  “Do you love Papa, Genny?”

  Genny growled. “I want to hit him in the head with that frigate of yours, Hallie.”

  Hallie twisted about to face Genny. She studied her face. “You’re very pretty and I like your hair. It’s got a lot more colors than mine does—there’s red and brown and blond, like mine, and a gold even. And your eyes are quite nice. Papa said they’re straight green with no shilly-shallying around. But no woman—even me—well, we can’t be as beautiful as Papa, but you are pretty enough for him, I suppose. I don’t even try anymore.”

  “Hallie, you’re five years old.”

  “She’s old, nay, ancient, in the ways of women,” Alec said.

  “Hallie, when you grow up, all the gentlemen will be following you about, composing poetry to your eyebrows, your earlobes—”

  “That’s because all their sisters will be after Papa.”

  Unbidden, Hallie’s words conjured up a vision of Genny married to Alec, and she was a good fifty years old and there were young girls cooing at Alec, well over fifty, but looking just as he looked right now. Oh, dear. “You mustn’t speak like that. You’re making him insufferably arrogant and conceited. He’s very nearly unbearable now. You mustn’t keep telling him how perfect he is.”

  “He’s not perfect, Genny, he always insists that he isn’t, but he is a wonderful papa.”

  “The child makes excellent sense, doesn’t she? I am an honest man, Genny, all the way to my toes.”

  Genny stared up at the ceiling. She realized suddenly that she hadn’t really looked at it in years. It was quite plain; indeed, there was a water stain very nearly directly over her bed. The wallpaper that reached the molding had once been a bright blue and yellow. Now it was dull and grayish and incredibly drab. Why hadn’t anyone said anything? Didn’t the servants think she cared? Evidently not. She said, unwitting amusement lacing her voice, “This is the strangest morning of my life. Here I am lying in my bed with a man, and his little daughter is between us. Surely it must be some sort of aberrant dream brought on by the jugged hare.”

  “You didn’t eat any of the jugged hare.”

  Hallie giggled. “Mrs. Swindel said I didn’t have to eat it. She said it looked like cooked bones. She gave me a big bowl of damson pudding. What did you eat, Papa?”

  Alec gave Genny a long look, then said easily, “I kept Lannie happy. I ate my full share of dinner. Now, pumpkin, why don’t you go back to your room. Genny and I need to get up, and she doesn’t want to while you’re in here, and I can’t.”

  “All right,” Hallie said. She kissed Genny’s cheek, hugged her father’s neck, and skipped out of the bedchamber, the frigate under her arm.

  Alec didn’t wait. He rolled over and put his arms around Genny, pulling her against him. “Are you all right, love?”

  She wished he wouldn’t call her that, but it sounded so nice coming from his mouth that she didn’t say anything.

  She nodded against his shoulder.

  He was rubbing his knuckles against her jaw and cheek. “Are you sore?”

  Genny realized she was not only sore but very sticky. Alarmed, she bolted upright, grabbing the sheet at the last moment to cover her breasts.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “What?”

  She flushed. “Please leave, Alec.”

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “There will be blood on you, Genny. It’s from your maidenhead being torn, that’s all. And my seed. Is that the problem?”

  She turned on him, saying viciously, “You know about everything, don’t you, Baron? You know exactly what to do, what to say, to make the frightened little former virgins unfrightened—”

  “You may be a former, but you’re not at all little. If you let that sheet drop just a bit more, I could point out that your lovely breasts—”

  �
��Be quiet. I think you’re very probably a philandering blackguard who is used to having ten different women in your bed a week. Well, I might not be a virgin anymore, but I’m not sorry, because I wanted to know what it was all about. I don’t want anything more from you, do you hear me?”

  She looked lovely, he thought inconsequentially, staring at her as she squawked out her fury at him. Quite pretty enough for him, as his daughter had told her so seriously. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face and down her back. Her green eyes were somehow even greener, perhaps because her face was so pale. He realized that she’d lost weight since her father’s death. Her high cheekbones were more prominent now, more finely sculpted. It made her look fragile and that frightened him. He wanted her tough. Tough but giving, too, when it came to him.

  Oh, hell.

  “I hear you. You’re very nearly yelling.”

  Genny slammed her fist down on the bed. “Damn you, Baron. I really mean it and—”

  “You could be pregnant, Genny. I hope so. It will make you see reason.”

  She stopped cold in her diatribe. “Pregnant,” she repeated, and it didn’t sound at all like her voice. This excuse for a voice sounded as thin as a piece of newspaper.

  “As in with child. I spilled my seed in you twice. I touched your womb when I climaxed inside you, Genny. Nearly there, so to speak.”

  Those very calm, drawling words pushed her over the edge. She whirled about, slammed her fist in his jaw, then leaped on him. He fell onto his back and he was laughing, and she straddled him and pounded his chest as hard as she could, yelling at him. Her hair spilled over her shoulders onto his chest, and finally he grabbed her arms and jerked her down.

  “You’re enchanting and demented,” he said, and kissed her. She tried to bite him and he ended the kiss very quickly.

  He held her hands but let her straighten over him. “This, my dear Eugenia, is another way we’ll make love. Ah, I see by your crossed eyes that you begin to understand me. You’ll do the riding, as it were. Can you imagine how I’ll feel thrusting upward into you? But you’ll be in control, you know, and you’ll move over me and I’ll pull you down and kiss your breasts and—”