Compromising Positions

by Emma Wildes

  “Surely,” Christa couldn’t help but muse out loud, “anyone who would go to such lengths as to trap us here together has made some sort of arrangement to make sure it becomes a scandal.”

  The man holding her laughed, the sound not holding much mirth. “A solid deduction, Miss Hatton. You are not just beautiful, but also apparently intelligent. That has also occurred to me.”

  “Being found like this isn’t going to help anything,” she said, but made no move to disentangle herself from his grasp, her body resting all too comfortably and easily against his. Her bottom was cushioned by his hard thighs, her cheek against the solid sinewy plane of his chest. The fine fabric of his lawn shirt was soft and warm.

  “I don’t see how being cold and uncomfortable will help either,” Andrew said dryly. “I am not sure I know just what the proper etiquette when trapped in a wine cellar with a lovely ingénue is. Surely, as a gentleman, I am required to see to your comfort.”

  There was something wrong with his logic and Christa was sure she resented being called an ingénue—though it was true enough, but somehow she was just too tired to care. Drifting a little, she let her eyelids shut, his scent and his embrace evoking a sense of well-being.

  She was going to fall asleep, she realized incredulously.

  In the arms of England’s most notorious, devilishly handsome, rogue.

  Chapter Two

  Moving slowly, the erotic rhythm taxing with excruciating demand even his formidable self-control, Adam Carlton, the sixth Earl of Wenton, slid back into the heated silken passage of the woman beneath him on the bed. Thighs spread wide, she arched, and he was rewarded by a long, shuddering sigh of pleasure and acceptance and she whispered, “Oh…yes, yes.”

  Ecstasy rushed through his body. Imminent carnal release hovered in the insistent tightening in his testicles and he withdrew again, pulling almost completely out, his arms braced on either side of the slender yet lusciously ripe body of his partner, her signature light floral fragrance mixing with the more earthy scent of lovemaking. When he drove his pulsing erection back in, it was still with restrained force and she lifted her hips in an unmistakable signal for less finesse and more speed, wrapping her legs around his waist. His lips hovered over her soft pink mouth and he whispered, “Gently love, it’ll come, don’t be so impatient.”

  “I won’t break, my lord.” Her voice was breathless and throaty, her lovely face flushed with sexual arousal. Against his bare chest he could feel the hardness of her taut nipples and full, quivering breasts. “A little more…urgency, if you please.”

  He grinned, though his muscles were shaking with need. “If I can wait, so can you, my insatiable countess. Now, tell me, how close are you?”

  “Close.” Her nails dug in and she arched, her pale slender throat exposed for the brush of his lips. “Adam!”

  “Does this help?” He shifted position slightly between her open legs and drove his hard cock in a little deeper.

  Her answering moan was his answer.

  Obligingly, he increased the motion of his lower body, though in the back of his mind was always the fear, irrational or not, that impetuous, passionate lovemaking couldn’t be good for the child no matter what the doctor said…

  Lush, liquid velvet began to tighten around his surging penetration and he could feel it in every inch of his cock, the sensitive inner muscles of her vagina rippling as her orgasm began. There was always a moment of no return, and he reached it when she cried out in abandoned open climax, her slim warm thighs clenching his hips, her body tensing and shaking.

  His body selfishly, for that long pulsing moment before actual release, took over. As deep inside her as possible he ejaculated a torrent of hot semen, groaning her name as he found feverish and complete carnal joy.

  For a few long moments, they both drifted, together and content.

  Bright morning sunlight gilded the bedchamber, the clicking of the ornate clock on the mantle mingled with the soft sound of two people trying to catch their breath. Adam slowly resurfaced from a world of physical bliss, gently withdrew, and pulled Helena’s supple, damp body into his arms. Her auburn hair, lustrous in the golden light, spilled across his bare chest and he stroked it lightly. “I vowed this time we would have greater care,” he said reproachfully, “but you won’t cooperate, darling.”

  Rising up a little, she arched one perfect brow, her silver eyes full of tender amusement. “I adore that you are worried, but truly, Adam, this is our second child. You know there is no harm in making love.”

  “I’m not sure,” he told his wife truthfully, “that the doctor realizes the--err--extent of your amorous enthusiasm.”

  Laughing, she lightly touched his jaw, a slender goddess with ivory shoulders; the subtle increasing curve of her belly signaling her pregnancy. “I thought you liked my enthusiasm.”

  “Most definitely,” he acquiesced, teasing her yet with a note of wonder in his voice, adding, “I cannot believe you are mine and I love you with all my heart, you know that. I want another healthy child, that’s all.”

  “Oh, Adam.” She kissed him then, a soft pressure of her mouth. “So do I.”

  He kissed her back, holding her in his arms. “We’re agreed then, slower and more carefully next time.”

  “Of course, if it will make you feel better, though I feel marvelous and you are worrying for nothing.” She smiled mischievously. “Umm, will next time be soon, by any chance? Pregnancy makes feel very…needy, my lord.”

  “I’ll try to oblige, but give me a moment, can you? I’m weak as a kitten.”

  “You don’t look weak.” Helena rubbed her hand across his torso, exploring the ridges of muscle and bone. Then wrinkling her brow, she said abruptly, “Andrew is still not home, I understand.”

  Adam gave his beautiful wife an exasperated but affectionate smile. “It is not unknown for Andrew to stay out all night, darling.”

  Helena frowned and said tartly, “Your brother’s propensity for licentious liaisons with lovely ladies is not exactly news to me, my lord. However, I have an uneasy feeling about his absence. You do realize that the Duke of Dunbarton’s daughter is also inexplicably missing? My maid told me so this morning. Apparently his Grace is tearing London apart looking for her.”

  Sated and resting against the pillow, his body still humming in sexual aftermath, Adam murmured, “I realize she is missing, yes, and believe me, that can have nothing to do with Andrew. As far as I know, they haven’t even met, and in any case, he would avoid her like the plague. She is too young, too innocent, and infinitely too much in the market for a husband.”

  Outside it was a lovely day, the sky a clear deep blue and the warm breeze coming in the open windows of the sunny room redolent with the heavy scent of blooming roses.

  His wife looked thoughtful, half-resting on top of him, her long-lashed eyes narrowed in speculation. “I have been introduced to Lady Christa. She’s very beautiful.”

  “So are a lot of young ladies that he hasn’t abducted. I tell you, Andrew is not involved in this.”

  She countered, “Why then would he not even tell his driver he was leaving the ball? The poor man sat there half the night waiting for your brother to appear, only to finally inquire inside and be told that all the guests were gone. I agree that Andrew is a bit of a rogue at times, but he isn’t inconsiderate. If he left with someone for an illicit rendezvous, he would have told George to go on home.”

  That was the only truly disturbing part of the whole thing. “I agree,” Adam said reluctantly after a moment, idly tracing his fingers down the graceful length of her spine. “However, I don’t think that Andrew would appreciate me making a big fuss over this in case there is nothing involved except a discreet night of pleasure with some unknown lady. There is surely a logical explanation.”

  “Perhaps they eloped?” his wife suggested.

  “My brother and the duke’s daughter? They don’t know each other, I tell you.” Lightly squeezing one of her delectable
bare buttocks, he added. “And, quite frankly, if he were that enamored of anyone, he would tell me.”

  “I suppose so,” Helena acquiesced, her silver eyes still speculative. “You two are very close, but then, as identical twins I suppose that’s natural. Just the same, with Andrew’s less than sterling reputation, perhaps he worried Dunbarton wouldn’t welcome his suit and the romance progressed in secret. You know the duke is a stickler for propriety and she is his only child.”

  Adam muttered, “I agree, he would object to Andrew, I’m sure. Listen, love, the last thing we need to do is voice out loud a supposition of a connection between young Miss Hatton and my brother.”

  “So you are going to simply let him stay missing and do nothing about it?”

  “From the look on your face, my darling, I would guess I am not.” With resignation, Adam removed his hand from her warm, tempting bottom. “And where, pray tell, do you suggest I start looking for my wayward twin? I assume you have instructions.”

  “Adam,” Helena said reproachfully, “you make me sound like some shrewish fishwife.”

  “On the contrary, you are a beautiful, refined, and very persuasive lady.” He grinned and gave his wife a wink. “If you were not, would you be in the condition you are in? I believe you lured me into your bed, Madame, and had your wicked way with me.”

  Laughing, Helena lifted a brow. “Is that how it happened? Odd, I seem to recall it being the other way around.”

  “We could try it again and see just who—”

  There was a light rapping on the door, stopping him in mid-speech. The servants seemed to know everything, and they certainly understood that any time he joined his wife in her bedroom--no matter the time of day--they were not to be disturbed.

  Helena’s eyes widened slightly. “No one would knock unless it was important. You had better answer it, darling.”

  “Bloody hell,” Adam muttered under his breath, sliding out of bed to step into his discarded breeches, jerking them up over his hips and stalking to the door. Glancing out to see the butler hovering in the hallway, he asked with uncharacteristic impatience, “What is it, Burks?”

  “I’m terribly sorry to…that is…”

  “Yes, yes, just what is so urgent?”

  The man swallowed, plump and proper in his immaculate clothing, his employer’s half-dressed state obviously telling him he had interrupted at a very inopportune time. “The Duke of Dunbarton is here to see you, my lord. He is very insistent.”

  Damn Andrew, he thought in irritation. If he was somehow responsible for the errant Miss Hatton, Adam was going to wring his neck. Out loud he said with resigned acceptance of the situation, “Please show him to my study and tell him I will be there at once.”

  Closing the door, he crossed to where he’d carelessly tossed his clothes in the heat of urgent sexual need and began to dress. “I guess you will get your wish, my dear. I fear Dunbarton is going to insist we launch a formal search, though I still say even if Andrew were somehow involved with the duke’s pretty daughter, he wouldn’t handle things this way.” He buttoned his shirt, gazing with unconcealed frustrated desire at where his wife still reclined naked, in delicious disarray amid the tumbled bed clothes. “Please excuse me. I believe I have an irate father to soothe.”

  Helena’s gray eyes were half-closed and she yawned sleepily. “Since you are abandoning me, I might just sleep a little. I am so glad we hired the new nanny for Chloe, for I vow I wish to nap all the time. Good luck, darling.”

  “I’ll probably need it,” Adam predicted wryly as he left the bedroom and went down the stairs to the main hallway toward his study. The duke was apparently too agitated to sit, for he stood by the window and stared out into the garden, his hands laced tightly behind his back. Tall and broad with thick iron gray hair and piercing pale blue eyes, he was dressed with immaculate elegant precision, right down his perfectly tied cravat and polished boots. They knew each other fairly well and served in the House of Lords together and Adam knew that his wife was right, Dunbarton was very aware of his duties and power as a peer of the realm.

  Neutrally, he said, “Good morning, your Grace. I believe I can guess what prompted this unexpected visit.”

  The duke turned, his face impassive except for the deep lines incised near his mouth and the cold fury in his gaze. “Have you heard a word from your scapegrace brother, Wenton?”

  “No. And please keep in mind, unless you are privy to information I do not have, there is no reason to believe your daughter’s sudden disappearance is connected to Andrew’s absence.” Crossing the room, Adam sat down behind his desk and returned his visitor’s stare with calm regard. “I am not even concerned over my brother’s failure to return home last evening for he is a grown man and is not accountable to me.”

  “He’ll be accountable to me if he has so much as touched my daughter.” Raw worry coupled with fatherly anger laced the raspy words.

  Leaning back in his chair, Adam lifted a brow. “I do not think they have even met. He certainly has never mentioned her, I have never seen them together even for a polite dance, and take my word, she is exactly the kind of female that would make him run for cover. Andrew has a legendary aversion to permanence, so your lovely daughter would hold absolutely no interest, quite the contrary. It’s true, my brother has had his share of love affairs, but they all hold the same theme; light-hearted liaisons with experienced women who are as uninterested in marriage as he is himself. Have you ever heard even a whisper of him ruining an innocent young woman?”

  Dunbarton’s mouth was pinched. “Perhaps not. However, do not try to gloss over his less than angelic reputation. He seems to make seduction as much of a hobby as racing his horses, Wenton, and the truth is, both of them disappeared at the same time from last night’s ball. It is only logical to assume they are together. Christa is a proper young woman but he is an experienced, attractive older man. I am not so naïve to think it not possible that he turned her head and convinced her to do something foolish. Her nature is somewhat impulsive from time to time; my wife tells me it is some rubbish about her birthday being in July.”

  Andrew was a lot of things; charming, hot-blooded, occasionally rash, but he was not a despoiler of virtuous young ladies, no matter when their birthdays were, so Adam didn’t believe that theory for a minute. “What do Landry’s servants say? I assume they have all been questioned.”

  “One of the footmen gave my daughter a note, he says. I am very careful with Christa and make sure she is chaperoned constantly, but there are naturally certain times when she is out of my sight and I thought nothing of it for maybe a half hour. It was my wife who first noticed she had never returned to the ballroom.”

  “No one saw her leave?”

  “Her cloak was still there and the footmen who attended arrivals and departures swear she did not go out through the front door. It was later, when I was questioning them for the second time, that I learned your brother had left his carriage and driver, but also seemed to be mysteriously gone.”

  Adam frowned, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. “It doesn’t make sense. Though I don’t believe for a moment he would do such a thing, if Andrew did want to lure your daughter into some kind of lover’s tryst, they would need transportation. Why not simply take the waiting carriage? And last evening was cool; he is a gentleman and would hardly drag her off into the night without her wrap.”

  “Whether he is gentleman or not is still in question,” Dunbarton said icily. “Since there was no way to look for Christa without people realizing she was gone, all of fashionable society is no doubt abuzz. I promise you Wenton, if your brother is in any way responsible for what will undoubtedly be a scandal, he will answer for it.”

  “I have a daughter as well and can imagine both your concern and outrage. However, before you issue threats, your Grace, we should find them both.” Adam got to his feet, rubbing his jaw in grim contemplation of the flimsy facts he’d heard so far. He said slowly, “It bothers m
e no one saw either of them leave. In fact, I think we should pay Lord Landry another call and perhaps even search the house.”

  For the first time, the duke looked human, more like a worried father than an icy aristocrat. “An excellent notion. I need to do something before I lose my mind.”

  ****

  He was cramped and fairly sure the lower half of his body was completely numb—except one crucial part—and Andrew shifted the woman in his arms carefully, hearing her small slumberous sigh in the inky darkness. She felt lax and soft against him, her sweet breath brushing his throat, the luscious curve of her bottom nestled against his prominent and uncomfortable erection. The moment she began to wake, he thought with inner wry amusement, he was going to have to move her so she didn’t notice the completely aroused state of his cock.

  He’d been hard for hours, her soft full breasts pressed against his chest having a predictable effect, as did the delicate floral fragrance that drifted from the silken mass of her hair where it tumbled down her back and over his encircling arm. He removed the pins earlier, before the last candle had wavered and gone out, not comfortable being skewered as she rested against his shoulder, and certain she wouldn’t be comfortable either if she wasn’t so soundly and completely asleep.

  The delectable Miss Hatton, Andrew mused, was capable of sleeping like the dead even when incarcerated with a reputed villainous rogue like himself. In fact, she hadn’t offered but the barest protest over scandalous perch on his lap, and he was a little envious of how easily and peacefully she had slept through the night.

  For it must be morning, though in the tomb-like darkness, it was hard to figure the passing of time.

  He was almost disbelieving when he heard the scraping sound, his arms tightening involuntarily. The first stab of light almost made him wince, even though it came from only a small lantern, filling the doorway opening with a meager glow. “Andrew?”