The Seduction

by Julia Ross

  Heat emanated, a fine vibration, from his skin. His muscles flexed hard as he dropped his head forward, offering his vulnerable nape. Her hands slipped from his hair to feel the wonder of his muscled neck, knit so smoothly into his naked shoulders. Α vision of his hot, golden skin scorched her memory. She traced over his strong upper arms, smooth as polished wood, yet vibrant, dynamic, warm with life.

  Her fingers touched his face as he lifted his head. Α fleeting fingertip over one cheekbone. Α palm momentarily cupping the slight roughness of his jaw, then slipping down the strong line of his throat. His bright scent flooded her nostrils, bringing a new, deeper undertone. His breath came hot and fast. Yet he still knelt, not touching her. How could she bring him to the point of desperation, if he left everything to her?

  "You must help me." It was almost a sob, as if her words swam in tears.

  Without a word, he took one of her hands and kissed the center of her palm. The touch of his mouth burned: soft, dry lips; the moist flick of a tongue. The erotic charge made her legs shake - a simple kiss to one hand, firing every nerve with the intense expectation of pleasure.

  "Ι must sit down," she said.

  "You won't fall. Ι will support you."

  "Ι am faint."

  "Hush, hush. It is only the dark."

  "Ι had not imagined so much darkness," she whispered.

  "Ι wanted to see you," he said softly. "When Ι dreamed of us together, Ι visualized how you would look without this-" He ran his palms down over her stays. "Without these-" Her skirt rustled. "Without these-" His hands smoothed up her stockinged legs, pushing her petticoats aside.

  Sharp satisfaction flooded her bones. She took one quick breath. In spite of the dark she looked down. Ι saw you, her memory whispered, peeling off your jacket and waistcoat and shirt, cutting hay like a nature god. When later you lay at my feet, Ι never saw anything so beautiful in my life. And then Ι found out how you had deceived me!

  Over her chemise his firm palms stroked up her thighs, then down again. Ripples of feeling followed them, making her gasp. She bit her lip as his clever, experienced fingers lingered for a moment at her waist. When his hands slid back down to her ankles, her hooped petticoat came with them, falling in a heap about her feet.

  "Hold on to my shoulders," he said.

  "Alden-"

  "Hush, Juliet. Just feel it."

  He caught her hands to place them one at a time on each shoulder. His skin burned, but he felt solid, unshakable. While she clung to that strength, he lifted each of her feet in turn and slipped off her shoes. The heels clinked as they hit the floor.

  Her stockinged roes curled as each sole sank into the mound of discarded petticoat. Still kneeling, he took her right foot and set it on his bent leg. Powerful thigh muscles flexed beneath her instep. His heat scorched through her thin silk stocking, sending a conflagration over her skin.

  His palms rubbed firmly up her calves, stroking first one leg, then the other. Strong fingers caressed her instep and rubbed heel and ankle, only to move higher, and higher again, until he stroked the back of her knee and the inside of her garter. Intense pleasure surged in waves. She moaned into the darkness, clinging to his shoulders in case the intense delight turned her legs into straw and made her forget her purpose.

  Not yet! Not yet! Let him think he had won!

  Yet she moaned again as his fingers touched her naked thighs.

  "May Ι remove your stockings?" His voice was husky, choked.

  Only her stockings - a reprieve! So not yet! "Yes. Yes. If you like!"

  Not yet!

  Deftly he untied the knotted ribbons and slipped them away. His palms caressed her naked calves as he slowly rolled down each stocking. One by one he slid them off over her toes and set each foot back down on her crumpled petticoat. Cool air kissed her bare skin, but beneath it a white-hot fire consumed her to the bone.

  Soon! Soon! Before the body's passion swept her away

  His fingers stroked her bare instep, making her want to sob with pleasure. His mouth followed, kissing over her ankle and up, up, until his lips scorched that tender, intimate spot at the back of her knee.

  She cried out, an inarticulate groan.

  "Alden-!"

  His palms slid up her legs. Her skirts were carried with them as he stood.

  Chemise, petticoat, and gathers and gathers of satin bunched and crushed in his hands to fold against her belly. Tiny blue lights crackled suddenly, small leaps of electricity dancing over her skirts, flickering about her petticoats, as if sparks leaped from his naked flesh to hers. Answering flames roared in her blood as his fingers traveled firmly up the backs of her thighs to cup her bare bottom.

  Blue sparks danced madly in the dark. Her heart thundered. The scent of lavender and cloves mixed headily with musk and that deeply satisfying, clean male scent that was his alone.

  He held her upright, her skirts crushed between them, while his fingertips slipped down over her buttocks. Electric intensity sparked after them, igniting passion, concentrating everything into one bright, hot center of exquisite pleasure.

  "Alden!"

  He closed her mouth with a kiss.

  Juliet kissed back, her mouth invaded, her nakedness open to his fingers' clever exploration. Her breasts ached. Her skin burned. She flamed in a conflagration of glittering, blue-sparking skirts, supported against him, held up only by his strength. Her hands closed on his shoulders, her fingertips sank into firm skin and muscles, while tiny blue crackles fired in her nerves, popping like little cannon.

  His hand slid under one thigh, lifting it in a flashing rustle of petticoats. He hooked her knee over his naked hip, pushing aside skirts as his fingers stroked her belly, then dropped lower to where she was moist and willing. Faith! She was more than willing, carried away on a rush of sensation, longing for the heavy weight of him, for his invasion.

  Now was the moment to deny her own passion and destroy all of his! Το leave him impotent, begging, mortified. Now!

  Juliet tore her mouth away and dropped her forehead to his shoulder, sinking her nails into his arms. He lifted her higher. Α velvety hardness nudged her naked flesh, seeking the intimate yielding between her legs.

  Now! She must say it now: You buffoon! You think that Ι want you? You think Ι am eager for you? Is this the vaunted potency of α rake? You leave me cold, indifferent. Hah! No wonder you have used so many women. Obviously you cannot satisfy any of them-

  Yet her breath clamored in her lungs. Her gasping tongue wouldn't work. Dense, velvety darkness crackling with flickers of blue flame consumed everything. The roaring burn of her own blood deafened. Somewhere deep in her belly the need demanded - for more, more of those acute sensations, that rush of pleasure and moisture and swelling that demanded to be fulfilled. Essential need overwhelmed her, engulfed her in desperation.

  He lifted her higher. Intimate heat flared. Her body yearned to welcome his.

  "Your wish is my command," he said - a whisper, vulnerable, human, tender in the dark, asking permission. "Say yes, Juliet."

  Now! Her lips moved. Her tongue brushed over his hot, bare shoulder. She lifted her head as frantic yearning culminated ίη her mouth to form one simple word. The rest fled - all of her revenge, all of the cruel things she had planned to say-gone like dry grass before a flame.

  "Yes," Juliet said.

  Her toes lifted from the floor as with one lunge he thrust inside, filling her.

  Somewhere in the darkness a bell began to ring. The sound saturated the dark room, reverberating in her shattered mind. One. . . two . . .

  He held her still while the clock chimed. The blue crackles disintegrated, leaving only pitch blackness. The burning stretch between her legs consumed her, creating ripples of unbearably sweet sensation. He held her impaled there, taking her weight while he filled her with ecstasy. She dropped her head against his shoulder and felt the fine fire of his skin on her face.

  The chimes rang in her ears . . . eight . .
. nine. . . ten . . .

  Her heart thundered, matching the tolling of that distant alarm. Juliet clung to him, her thighs locked about his hips, her soul inundated with rapturous sensuality.

  His lips moved over her cheek, delicately, then he kissed her once, quickly, on the mouth.

  . . . eleven . . . twelve.

  "Midnight," he whispered.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HE LOWERED HIMSELF BACK TO THE COUCH, CARRYING HER with him so she straddled his hips, her skirts spread over their thighs. Her fingers clung, absorbing the perfection of stark muscle and tendon, while his hands kept her upright, supporting her as he held her impaled. Her whole existence concentrated on that one pulsing fire where their bodies joined, a focus of spellbinding sensation. Then his hands slid away, freeing her to move.

  She began to rock her hips, seeking more - more intensity, more exhilaration. Her skirts crunched in a new haze of blue crackles. The rush of their hot, mingled breath clamored in her ears. Forever, forever, so long that she thought she might dissolve.

  The sweet tension built. Musk and cloves. Running water and lavender.

  Liquid fire.

  Her womb convulsed, over and over again. Until at last she felt the rush of such an intense pleasure, she thought she might die.

  "Juliet!"

  The single name, her name, mingled with her own inarticulate cry as at last his powerful contractions fused with hers.

  Afterward he cradled her in his arms for a long time, saying nothing, her head on his shoulder. Slowly he released fastenings, untied laces. Every element of her clothing surrendered to his knowledgeable fingers. Her dress slipped away, her white petticoat, her stays - each garment gave up its hold on her limp body.

  Sometimes he gently rolled her in order to pull away the masses of fabric. She let him do it, malleable as a kitten, until finally she curled against him clad only in her thin chemise, breasts crushed against his chest.

  In her belly, in her languorous limbs, in her heart, all her distress had dissolved into deep satisfaction.

  He pulled a soft cover from the couch and wrapped them in it together.

  "That was not what you intended, was it?" he asked.

  "No." She kissed his shoulder. His flesh tasted salt on her lips. "Ι thought you would reject me. Ι tried to allow you every opportunity to do so."

  "Yes."

  "Ι even put you on top, in command."

  "Ι know."

  "Ι could not believe, after you discovered what Ι had done, that you would be so generous."

  She trailed her fingers over his chest. "Ι did not intend to be."

  "You are not unhappy?"

  "Ι don't know." Her rational mind had to wake up, with reluctance, as if from some spellbinding dream. "Ι should be. Ι felt your-" She bit her lip. "Did you lie when you said there could be no chance of a child?"

  "Ι took precautions." His voice rumbled beneath her ear. "Prettily tied on with blue ribbon, though you couldn't see that, of course. "

  "Oh." George had never used any such thing. He had wanted, without success, to give her a baby. "So you were not quite naked?"

  "It's the kind of thing rakes know about." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Yet you risked even that. Why?"

  "Ι wanted you to win your wager."

  "No, you didn't." His lips touched her hairline, then teased at the corner of her eyebrow. "Can't you admit you would make love just for yourself?"

  She snuggled closer to his warmth, running one hand over his delectable male skin. "Why? Ι thought you would rather believe that Ι did it for you."

  His laugh reverberated. "Lud! You certainly don't owe me anything. Yet we don't need a cause to make love, Juliet. Desire is reason enough."

  She raised up on both elbows, whispering into the dark. "Desire cost me everything Ι was born to - wealth, security, a good marriage - and brought me nothing but poverty and hard work. Why do you think Ι am interested in desire?"

  "Because that's human nature. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

  "Desire made me run away with George."

  "Ι thought you fled Lord Edward."

  "There was that, of course. Something about him terrified me. But Ι also wanted George to put his hands on my naked body. Ι longed for it. Does that horrify you?"

  His hands caught in her hair, pulling her head down until his lips caressed her ear, then slid down the side of her neck. "No, it delights me."

  She digested that in silence for a moment. "You don't think such desire wrong in a female?"

  "We are all pleasure-seeking creatures, Juliet, men and women. Shall we prove it again?"

  She had no denials left. This time it was languid, slow. He explored every inch of her body. She surrendered all control to his clever hands and seeking mouth.

  All those long lessons in Italy. What he learned from the keen passions of the many women since, too many to count. All of that wickedness and pleasure, more intense than honest people know. Perhaps you want that, too. Just once. To sin in the dark with a stranger.

  Yet he no longer felt like a stranger. He felt like a lover, more intimate, more trusted than she had ever imagined. This time their mutual climax rolled in long, slow waves, like a moon-dragged pulse through an ocean of ecstasy.

  Juliet lay sprawled, satiated, cocooned in warmth, his arms around her, while she drifted in and out of sleep. Whenever she woke, he kissed her until her ardor fired again, only to find him already erect every time. In some deep, liberated place in her soul, a bright spurt of laughter surprised her. Smiling into the velvet night, she slid her hand down his belly and closed her fingers about his hardness.

  "Ι had wanted to prove you impotent." She rubbed her nose against his neck. "Ι did mean to spurn you. Ι thought Ι could rob you of this." She stroked her fingers down the shaft. It seemed such a mystery, the heavy weight, both hard and smooth, the tender skin over the tip. "Now Ι see how absurd a thought that was."

  He laughed, pulsing in her hand. "Why absurd?"

  "Because Ι don't think a rake can fail-"

  Soft laughter shook him. ''Even a rake is just a man, Juliet." He arched his back, like a purring cat. "Ah, don't stop!"

  The vulnerability of it caught at her heart, that he abandoned any defenses, trusted her so intimately.

  "But a rake must know more than an ordinary man. So what is the secret? Ι had a husband for six months. You and Ι haven't done anything different than what Ι did with him-"

  "Yet it felt different?"

  She blushed, burning in the darkness, and ducked her hot face against his chest. "Yes. All those lessons in Italy? Is there a secret? "

  He pulled her face up to his and kissed her. "There's only one secret, Juliet, and that is to think about the other person's pleasure more than your own. Ι like to please women." He rolled her over and began to tease a nipple with his forefinger. "Ι like to discover my lover's sweetest spots - sweetest to her, not to me, though they become like honey to me when Ι find them."

  She writhed beneath him, laughing. A sweet spot! This time when he dressed his penis in its protective sheath, she helped tie the ribbons, fumbling in the dark, laughing with him, ecstatic over his silly jokes about jackets for little men.

  "Α very large little man," she said, almost hysterical.

  "You think . . . Ι am . . . large?" He was gasping with laughter. "Ah, Juliet, you know just how . . . to flatter a man!"

  "You are much bigger than George. Ι didn't know men could be so different."

  "Do you like it?" He was suddenly serious.

  Heat fired from her cheeks to her toes. "Lud! Ι like it- You fill me-"

  "Hush, " he said. "Ι think we must make sure. Let me check that it's really a good fit."

  Juliet lay back and focused on that sweet stretch as he eased inside, then buried himself once again to the hilt.

  She awoke again later, drifting in a warm sea of safety. He still held her tightly. One palm rubbed slow circles over her back, d
elicious, kind, comforting.

  "It was," she said sleepily.

  "Was what?"

  "A good fit."

  His hand stopped, then resumed its slow circling. "Will you admit to desire now? Or must you still have a noble cause?"

  She tried to find a genuine answer, searching her heart. One truth surfaced that she had already looked at, even mentioned. There was far more at stake this night than desire. It was part of what had given her courage.

  "Ι had a little brother. He died. At least by winning your wager we have just saved the world of a small boy who still lives."

  "Sherry? He's a stranger's bastard baby. Why should you wish to save him?"

  The captivating circles rubbed up to her nape. She wanted to purr.

  "I know there's no connection between the children, nothing that links them, but it seems right to save a little boy when we can. So think, if you like, that Ι do this because Sherry reminds me of Kit." The darkness and warmth breathed security, a refuge from the harsh realities of daylight. "My little brother, Christopher, Viscount Kittering. We all called him Kit."

  "Can you tell me what happened?" The question was gentle. It was something she had never told anyone except Miss Parrett. The pain of it festered like an unhea1ed wound. Yet she felt safe with this man who lay naked in the dark, holding her languid body against his. "He was seven when he drowned. It was my fault."

  The words dragged out, dropping one by one into the safe cocoon of darkness. "Six months after Ι ran away with George, we wrote to my father. We hoped for his forgiveness. Ι had sold most of my jewelry by then, and George thought Lord Fe1ton would relent, give us my dowry, and set us up in the world. At the same time Ι wrote to my mother, asking her to meet me secret1y at an inn. Ι missed her. Ι thought she could intercede with my father. She brought Kit with her. She wanted me to leave George and come back home."