Seducing Mr. Sykes

by Maggie Robinson

  “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “A bit. I can ring for another maid. Or Mrs. Anstruther, if you feel unequal to helping me.”

  “I feel very equal.” More than equal.

  “All right.”

  She stood, kicked off her shoes, and turned her back to him. A thousand covered buttons—well, a hundred at least—wended their way down her spine. Tristan was methodical, his hands accustomed to delicate tasks. He could graft roses. Wield a compass. Lay brick if necessary. What were mere buttons?

  If only his hands wouldn’t shake.

  Her scent was subtle yet compelling. In fact, the whole room smelled like roses. He would never be able to wander in a garden again without thinking of her.

  Her dress loosened and shimmered to the floor in shiny pink waves. He held her good hand while she stepped out of it, clad only in a shift, a corset with its figured cambric cover, starched petticoats, and stockings.

  He untied the corset cover to reveal a truly beautiful work of art. At one point in his life, Tristan was fairly adept with corset strings. It seemed a long, long time ago. It might be easier if he attacked the corset problem from the front hooks.

  “Turn around. Please.” His voice was thick.

  She obliged, a pretty blush on her cheeks. “You’d better fetch my nightgown. It’s on the bed.”

  The bed was turned down, and the source of the aroma in the room was solved. Rose petals were sprinkled on the bedlinens. Did Sadie sleep amidst roses every night? No wonder she smelled so delicious. The nightgown lay on the coverlet, practically transparent—he could see the embroidery right through it.

  And then he noticed the wine and two glasses on the bedside table. The vases of roses. The flickering candles on all flat surfaces. The room had been set up for seduction—his, he presumed. He stifled his grin, draped the wisp of silk over his arm and set to his very pleasurable task.

  Chapter 41

  This evening had not quite turned out as she’d hoped. And it was most annoying that she had injured herself, no matter what the apparent benefits were. Tristan was in her room in his shirtsleeves, now unhooking her new corset. It was exquisite, trimmed with black lace and stitching over cream satin. In seconds she would be free of it, and then what?

  Her plan to consummate the marriage should be put on hold. If Tristan could imagine that she’d marry him while loving another, then he didn’t know her at all. She would never compromise herself in such a way. It was one thing to make a marriage of convenience which had some advantages, quite another to enact a lifelong tragedy.

  She realized they didn’t truly know each other’s character at all, even if it seemed they might be compatible physically. Lust was not enough.

  Although it was something. Tristan’s nearness and his deft touches were doing odd things to her insides. Sadie remembered too well where all that had led before.

  She took a step back. “Hand me my nightgown.”

  “If you’re worrying about me seeing your charms, covering up with this won’t help. It’s designed for revelation.” His voice was smoky and rough. “Just stand still.”

  Sadie felt like a hart at the mercy of the king’s men. The last metal hook came free, and Tristan caught the corset before it fell to the floor.

  Her shift was as sheer as her nightgown. Her nipples hardened from his gaze.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Too beautiful for the likes of me. I don’t deserve you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I will endeavor to earn your regard. Even if it takes years.”

  “I’m very difficult. You know that.”

  “Yes. You are a challenge. I hope I’m up to it.”

  Involuntarily, Sadie stole a glance at his trousers. “I’d say you were.”

  His warm hand cradled her cheek. “I want this to work. Us to work. Do you think there’s a chance?”

  Now was not the time to lie. “I don’t know.”

  “But you will try?”

  Sadie wanted to say yes. But could she break a lifetime habit of sabotaging everything? She wasn’t sure she could.

  “I will do my best.”

  “That’s all we can hope for. I’m going to untie your petticoat now.”

  She swallowed. “All right. Do I get to undress you too?”

  “If you wish.” More smoke and roughness.

  Save for her stockings, Sadie was soon nude in the flickering light. Tristan made no effort to cover her with the flimsy night rail. She kept her hands at her sides while Tristan stepped back. His expression gave her reason to believe he liked what he saw very much.

  “Your turn.” She unbuttoned him one-handed, which took longer but somehow raised the stakes. Untucked. Unbelted. And now Tristan was Adam to her Eve.

  “What do we do next?” Sadie asked.

  “Surprise me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do as you please. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

  Was it? She wasn’t sure how to proceed. Did she kiss him? Touch him? Lie back on the bed and close her eyes and wait for him to surprise her?

  “W-would you like some wine?”

  “I would not. But I’ll be happy to pour you a glass.” Tristan moved to the bedside table.

  Dutch courage. Any of the champagne and wine she’d had earlier at dinner had fizzled right out of her system after their argument. But she found when Tristan gave her the glass she couldn’t lift it to her lips.

  She set it on the mantel. “I am out of ideas.”

  He raised a brow? “Really? You? I would think that your diabolical mind was chock-full of ways to drive a man mad.”

  “I have retired from man-maddening.”

  “Not if you continue to stand in front of me as you are. I may have to check into one of Puddling’s programs myself.”

  “Is there a program to discourage lust?”

  “I don’t think it would work in my case, even if there is one. No amount of gruel and healthy walks would diminish my current state.”

  He really was most impressively erect. How curious men were, their thought so obvious upon their bodies, while women’s secrets were safe within.

  “Are we really going to do this?” Sadie asked, her voice unsteady.

  “I think we should. We’ve done everything but. We are married.” He extended a hand and she took it. He led her to the bed, which was both miles away and too close.

  He untangled the roses from her bun. “I want to brush your hair. Have wanted to for days.”

  Sadie nodded, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He gave her the bunch of silk roses to hold, which was a welcome distraction for her nervous hands, while he fetched the hairbrush from the dressing table. With meticulous precision, he pulled out every pin that kept her heavy hair up.

  “To think you tried to pass as a man.” He gentled through her tangles, and Sadie closed her eyes. This was a far different sensation from when any of her maids had performed the same service.

  “I didn’t. I just enjoyed wearing trousers.”

  “You may wear them at home, only for me.”

  “We’ll see.” She didn’t feel like fighting over it at the moment. She was happy to be bare, her skin rippling with anticipation. She might not ever put clothes on again.

  Tristan put the brush down and tipped her backward on the mattress. He kissed her injured hand and placed it at her side. “I will be careful. Of every part of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He left her to extinguish all the candles, and Sadie felt a stab of disappointment. It would have been interesting to watch Tristan’s face as they had conjugal relations. She would like to see her own. Perhaps a mirror over a bed would solve that problem.

  She must be very wicked to even think of such a thing. But something was uncoiling inside her, making her hot and cold and wanting. She would like a hundred mirrors and a thousand candles. She’d have to make do wit
h the firelight.

  The bed dipped as Tristan lay beside her. He began by using just one fingertip to draw lines on her body, some straight, some squiggles, all making her squirm a little. She wanted more than one finger, and bumped her hip into his.

  “Patience.”

  “I’m not known for it. I feel very strange, Tristan.”

  “Good.” His mouth replaced his finger and she lost herself to all coherent thought. She clutched at him, forgetting the cut on her hand, and cried out at the sudden pain.

  “Lie still. Let me do all the work.”

  All right. She could try. But when he moved lower to kiss her as he had before, lying still proved difficult indeed.

  Chapter 42

  Tristan didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the taste of her. Her reaction to his every touch. Even her stubbornness was becoming endearing. Lady Sarah Marchmain was his wife, and all was right with the world.

  Well, more or less. There was another letter he’d have to write tomorrow, and building plans to go over, but honestly, he couldn’t think of such trivialities right now. Real life outside this room could wait. His wife had invited him into her bed and he was going to make good use of his time and tongue.

  It wasn’t long before she was thrashing beneath him, his mouth filled with her essence. He brought her to release several more times—he’d lost count. But if he didn’t enter her very shortly, counting to infinity would not stop him from spilling onto the bedclothes.

  Tristan didn’t want to hurt her. He hadn’t ever taken a virgin before in his life—he knew now that though Linnet had been very young on their wedding night, she’d been wild and heedless before it.

  Damn. He didn’t want to think of his first wife at a time like this—she had no power over him anymore. It was time he woke up from his self-imposed sexual slumber. He’d been celibate for years; he’d paid the price of his youthful folly. The glory and the guilt, all of it. He’d been given a second chance and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  He wished he’d left some candles burning, but hadn’t wanted Sadie embarrassed or shy. Really, what had he been thinking? She was not in the least shy. Really somewhat brazen. Remember those trousers! He could watch her walk around in them until he was stone cold dead.

  Plenty of life in him now. He kissed his way back up her body all the way to her lovely lips. She welcomed him with a hungry kiss, her good hand stroking the length of his back. This was good between them. Too damn good.

  But they deserved it, didn’t they? Tristan believed his life was about to turn a corner.

  He rose up on one arm and grasped his swollen cock with the other, feeling his way in the dark. Sadie angled up toward him, and he rubbed against her, coating himself with her wetness. So damn good.

  He slid back and forth until she was as frantic for him to enter her as he was. In one slow thrust, he was surrounded by liquid heat. She was tight. Perfect. He wouldn’t last long, but it was just as well. Their first time need not be a marathon. There were many nights ahead.

  “All right?” he asked, almost breathless.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Please.”

  He strove to do what she needed, inserting his hand between them as his cock smoothed in and out. He drove ever deeper with each thrust, reveling in her response. She toppled into the timeless dance, hissing his name, rising to meet him. Tristan lost himself to exquisite, elusive sensation. No, not lost. He was found. Home.

  He rubbed her clitoris until the hisses were helpless shouts as she bucked beneath him. He poured his heart into her as she clutched at him and cried out. Had it ever been like this before with anyone?

  He thought not.

  He collapsed and rolled her on top of him, where her hammering heart knocked against his. He kissed her damp brow, brushed away the tangled length of her beautiful hair. He wanted to say something, but his words were glued together in clumps behind his tingling lips.

  She was quiet, too. So quiet for Sadie, who enjoyed having the final say. He held her tight, trying to catch his breath. Organize his thoughts. What next? He was afraid to ask her how she felt. Tristan knew she had climaxed several times, but that was purely physical. What was in her head at this moment?

  Her bandaged hand lay on his shoulder, the rest of her soft and hot against him. He’d neglected her breasts, and made up for that now, causing her to shiver as he gently circled a nipple.

  “You must stop,” she whimpered.

  He did so instantly. “Why? Are you hurt?”

  “I can’t stand...feeling so much.”

  He tucked her closer. “Good feeling or bad feeling?”

  “You should know the answer. Oh, Tristan. I never imagined such—” She waved her white bandaged hand between them.

  “Neither did I.” It had never been quite like this.

  “Really?”

  There was a great deal of doubt in her voice. He kissed her forehead. “Really. You may find that extraordinary, but it’s true.”

  “But you are old—” Sadie stopped, realizing the insult of her words.

  He was only nine years older, but in terms of experience, he held some cards she had yet to see. “Ancient,” Tristan agreed. “Thirty. Decrepit. You have aged me since we first met, too, what with house fires and all the associated follies of the last few days. You believed you had been stuck with a man past his prime, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t mean old. Perhaps old-headed,” she conceded, not making her accusation much more palatable. He had been a stuffy stick with her for much of their acquaintance; no wonder she’d thought him dull.

  Tristan lay back against the pillows. “Well, someone had to be the voice of reason here. You know my responsibilities.”

  “Am I one of them now?”

  Careful, Tris.

  “You are much more important than a mere responsibility. Yes, I want to take care of you. But I want you to take care of me, too.”

  “Like the oxen you talked about.”

  Tristan laughed. “Exactly. Let’s be kind to each other and see where the journey leads.”

  “Friends.”

  Much more than that, he hoped. Was it possible? He’d been on his own path alone for so long, depending only upon himself.

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Friends.”

  Sadie snuggled into him. “I have never had a male friend before. Come to think of it, female friends are few and far between, too. Marchmain Castle is isolated, you know. And I wasn’t allowed to go to school.”

  “Miss Mac,” Tristan recalled.

  “She was not a friend of mine. She spied for my father.”

  “I’m sure he was concerned for you,” he said, thinking no such thing.

  “Not in the way he should have been. And the year I came out—the one season I had—was not...fun.”

  “How so?”

  “I was too tall. Too everything. I didn’t take.”

  “They were idiots, all of them.”

  “You wouldn’t have liked me either. I made sure of that.”

  Tristan played with a long strand of her hair. “Why were you so set against marriage? I would think you would have seen it as an escape from your father. Didn’t you want to have your own household?”

  “He made it clear he would pick my husband according to his needs. Debts. Consequence. And the candidates were not at all to my liking.” Sadie sighed. “I was engaged before Roddy, you know. Twice before. I am a scandal.”

  Tristan had read her report thoroughly and knew exactly how she’d gotten unengaged from the hapless men her father conned. “I forbid you to get engaged to anyone else.”

  He could see her smile in the waning firelight. “That sounds reasonable.”

  “I am the voice of reason, as we’ve established. Are you tired, Sadie?”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “Shall I leave you, or would you like me to st
ay?”

  She was silent for a long stretch. “I don’t know. I’m not accustomed to sleeping next to anyone.”

  “We’ve managed it before in the same bed.”

  “But one of those nights I was shackled, if you recall.”

  Oh, yes. He recalled. An image of her naked and bound before him was tempting beyond belief, but it was early days yet. Tristan had a feeling he’d have to do a whole lot of persuading to get her to agree to such a scenario. She was strong-willed, but Tristan didn’t want to break her, just gently bend her into a semblance of compliance.

  He’d have his work cut out for him.

  Chapter 43

  The giggling woke her. Sadie opened her eyes to see Audrey and Hannah at the doorway. They were both blushing profusely, one equipped with a breakfast tray and the other fireplace cleaning tools. She lurched up, clutching the covers to her bare breasts.

  “Good morning, Lady Sarah. Do you want us to come back later?” one of the twins asked, averting her face. Sadie’s eyes were clogged with sandmen, and her head ached a little. At one point in the evening, she and Tristan had woken, coupled again, and drunk most of the wine in the bedside bottle afterward as they talked. Or, to be fair, she had done the drinking and the talking. Tristan had proved to be a good listener, and an even better lover.

  “Yes,” came the rumble beside her. Goodness, Tristan was still in her bed. Still naked. Still beautiful.

  Sadie was famished. “Leave the tray. My husband will see to the fire.” My husband! Two very odd words she thought she’d never say. She lay back against the pillows and shut her eyes to the shaft of daylight which fell through the gap in the curtains. Then one of the girls pulled the curtains open, and she was blinded right through her eyelids.

  “Very good, my lady. Ring if you need anything.” There was a rattle of china and scuttle of feet, and the door snicked closed.