Tempted By His Kiss

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “I think not. The name first.”

  Cade hesitated, but could see no means of delaying. “Rodriguez. Pablo Rodriguez.”

  A silence followed. “Tsk tsk. I’m disappointed in you. As you well know, that name was compromised months ago.” Le Renard sighed. “I can see this is going to take a while. In the meantime, my men could do with some sport. Boys, who wants to be first?”

  Cade strained against his bonds. “Don’t! No!”

  Calida screamed as one of the men fell upon her, dragging her to the earthen floor and shoving her skirts high.

  Le Renard’s hand tightened in Cade’s hair, jerking up his head again, his fingers coming down to pry Cade’s swollen eyelids wide. “Watch closely. I don’t want you to miss any of the fun.”

  “No! Calida, no!” Cade screamed.

  CHAPTER 6

  Meg slipped out of Cade’s darkened study, a book tucked under the crook of her arm. Lifting her candle high, she made her way back up the stairs, the house silent around her. Despite the late hour, she hadn’t been able to sleep, climbing out of her bed to creep downstairs in her nightgown and robe to find something to read.

  After the disastrous evening meal, she couldn’t help but worry about Lord Cade. Though he would have denied it, he’d obviously been in a great deal of pain, his large body visibly tense, a faint white line of strain etched across his upper lip. Then, of course, there had been his drinking, as he downed one glass of whiskey after another. It was a wonder he was able to navigate his way out of the room and up the stairs to his bedchamber, especially considering that he’d barely touched his meal.

  Alone after his departure, she hadn’t done much better, picking disinterestedly at her food until finally she gave up the pretence and stood to bid the footman an early night.

  In her bedroom, Amy helped her disrobe, then brought her a cup of hot milk to aid her slumber. But she couldn’t rest, her mind filled with thoughts of Lord Cade, his fall, and most powerfully of all, their kiss.

  Even now she could recall the delicious sensation of his lips moving against her own, and the undeniable beauty of their embrace. But once their kiss ended, he’d made his feelings plain, quite literally turning his back on her and walking away. She knew he would be glad to see her go, and by rights, she ought to feel the same. Instead, she was roaming the night-darkened halls of his house, sleepless and concerned.

  Passing the door to his bedchamber, her footsteps slowed, her imagination conjuring up images of him lying amid the sheets, his handsome features deeply relaxed in sleep. Forcing her feet onward, she continued toward her bedchamber when she heard a muffled shout.

  She stopped and turned back, the candle flame flickering at her abrupt movements, reflected shadows dancing on the walls. It was Lord Cade, and he called out again with another hoarse cry, then a groan as if he were in pain. Without considering her actions, she hurried to his door and turned the knob.

  The room lay in darkness except for the ruddy glow of the logs burning in the fireplace, his large bed swathed in heavy shadows. Closing the door behind her, she moved forward. Despite the low light, she could see him shifting restlessly against the mattress, his head rolling on his pillow as though at war with some invisible enemy.

  He wasn’t awake and in pain, as she at first feared, but instead caught inside a nightmare, his distress palpable as he thrashed and groaned. A low guttural cry came from his lips. “No! No, don’t! Stop!”

  Without pausing, she crossed to him. “My lord,” she said in a soft voice. “Lord Cade, wake up. You are having a nightmare. My lord, can you hear me?”

  Instead he rolled his head, his strong masculine features contorted with misery, his mind clearly too caught inside his phantom world to heed her words.

  “Lord Cade,” she tried again, raising her voice. “You are dreaming and need to wake up. You are having a nightmare. Cade, wake up! Wake up now!”

  But he didn’t awaken. Moaning and muttering, his limbs shifted in uneasy frustration. Setting her book and candlestick onto his night table, she caught sight of a bottle of laudanum and the spoon that lay beside it. Eyeing the drug, she realized he must have taken a dose; no doubt the reason he was sleeping so deeply.

  He groaned, his facial muscles stretched tight as his lips moved in an indecipherable plea. She studied him in the low light, tracing the chiselled angle of his jaw and the way his short, dark eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones. Even in his distress he was undeniably handsome, the powerful shape of his long-limbed body delineated beneath his bedclothes, capturing her gaze.

  I ought not to notice, she thought. But notice she did, her pulse hammering at the sight of his broad chest with its appealing thatch of dark, curling hair. And if his chest was bare, what about the rest of him?

  I should leave, she admonished herself, aware of the impropriety. But how could she abandon him when he was so clearly in need? In his drugged state, he might cause himself all manner of harm. Besides, if she left now, she knew she wouldn’t get a wink of rest for worrying over him.

  Bending low, Meg laid a palm against his shoulder, then jerked away in surprise at the heat radiating from his flesh—his body as toasty as a stove. She didn’t believe he was feverish, though, but simply possessed a naturally hot-blooded constitution. Intending to wake him, she gave his body a firm, no-nonsense shake.

  He groaned and mumbled something, but still did not rouse.

  “Lord Cade. Can you hear me?”

  He thrashed, growing even more seriously agitated as he shifted against the sheets. “Stop!” he called out.

  Moving to soothe him, she slid her fingers over the warm skin and hard muscle of his shoulder, then down his arm and across his chest. Her nipples tightened beneath her nightgown, her body thrumming at the sensations. To her relief, her touch seemed to finally calm him, his breathing growing more even, his mutterings ceasing until, abruptly, he turned quiet.

  Encouraged, she continued her caresses, stroking him in a slow, gliding rhythm. As she did, her gaze drifted toward the scar that stood out in stark clarity against the taut column of his neck. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she touched him there, quivering as she traced a single fingertip across the wound.

  A hard hand clamped around her wrist, flattening her palm against his chest. Crying out, she tried to pull away, but he held on, imprisoning her as firmly as an iron manacle.

  His eyes popped opened and locked on hers, his gaze intensely green, even in the diminished light.

  “My lord,” she murmured. “I’m sorry to wake you, but you were dreaming.”

  He frowned. “Dreaming?” he repeated, his words strangely slurred.

  “Yes. You were having a terrible nightmare. But now that you are awake, you can…you can let me go.”

  He stared at her, his gaze oddly unfocused, as if he wasn’t fully conscious.

  “My lord? You are awake, are you not?”

  Once again she tugged against his grip. But he held firm, his fingers tightening even more to hold her in place.

  “Lord Cade, wake up! It’s Meg—Meg Amberley. You were having a nightmare, but you seem better now.”

  Or does he? She wondered, noticing the confusion clouding his gaze. Clearly he was still in the grip of the sedative, conscious but not fully cognizant of himself or his surroundings.

  Remembering how her touch had calmed him for a time, she eased onto the bed, then reached out with her free hand to stroke his shoulder. He relaxed, but made no effort to release her. Instead he stared, studying her, his gaze roving over her face before moving downward to survey her body with undisguised interest.

  Her nipples tightened at his bold perusal, her cheeks warming with embarrassment and something else that made her breath grow shallow. A second wave of heat followed hard on the heels of the first when she noticed that her robe was hanging open. The tie at her waist had come loose, providing him with an unobstructed view of the white lawn nightgown she wore underneath.

  She reached to c
over herself, but he moved first, his hand finding her breast with unerring accuracy. Cupping her flesh, he traced her feminine shape with an astonishing boldness. She shuddered as he brushed his thumb over her nipple, need sizzling through her.

  “Delightful,” he murmured. Giving her breast a gentle squeeze, he resumed his leisurely exploration.

  She gasped, her body frozen in place as her eyelids fell to half-mast. Even if he’d released her, she knew she would not have been able to flee. The pleasure was simply too great, unspeakable bliss ricocheting through her system.

  Drifting in a light haze, she made no attempt to stop him as he unfastened the buttons on her nightgown. Pushing the cloth down over her shoulder, he exposed her bare breast, her stomach clenching as his naked hand closed over her. She whimpered as he played upon her, her eyelids sliding closed against the fierce wash of delight.

  They flashed open, though, when he gave an unexpected tug and toppled her across his chest. His fingers speared upward into her hair, popping loose the ribbon that had confined her locks in a neat tail at her neck. Her long, straight tresses swung free, cascading down in a flaxen curtain that framed both their faces. Cradling her head, he leaned up and captured her mouth in a kiss that drove all thought from her mind.

  Fire shot through her limbs, a moan erupting from her throat as he traced his tongue over her trembling lips. The moment her mouth opened, he took advantage, delving inside to stroke her with a wet, velvety glide that made her quake. He urged her to follow his lead, tempting her to match his kisses with ardent, avid ones of her own. She clung, yielding completely as he kissed her with a dark, undeniable need she was helpless to resist. Neither could she resist his touch as his hands roamed over her body in bold, sweeping forays.

  A hunger she barely comprehended rose inside her, blood racing in great throbbing beats through her system. An ache formed between her legs, making her shift with restless, wanton abandon.

  Cade turned abruptly, rolling her onto her back so his weight pressed her deep into the feather tick. Burying his lips against her throat, he kissed her long and slow before roving lower, scattering caresses wherever he went. Sliding open the bodice of her nightdress, he palmed her breasts again, stroking each one in turn in ways that soon had her panting.

  Then he moved lower still, her back arching as his mouth closed in hot, wet bliss over one tender peak. He suckled upon her, laving her with tongue and teeth before transferring his attention to her other breast.

  Her hand came up to cup his head, her fingers sliding into the thick silk of his hair. Delirious with passion, she caressed his cheek, a moan echoing from her lips. His hands stroked her, one palm slipping beneath the hem of her nightgown in an upward glide from calf to knee to thigh.

  Leaving her breasts, he nuzzled in the curve of her neck. “Hmm, so good,” he muttered. “So soft and sweet.”

  She smiled, swept away by his touch.

  The hand beneath her nightgown roamed higher, brushing over the curls between her legs, touching her with an intimacy she hadn’t expected. A hot quiver flooded through her, heart pounding as if it might beat from her chest.

  He nuzzled her neck again, scattering kisses. “God, I want you. Oh, sweetheart. Oh, Calida.”

  Calida!

  Meg’s eyes shot wide, her body stiffening. Her heart pounded again, only this time not with passion, but instead with pain.

  Dear Lord, what am I doing? She cried, her desire withering as abruptly as it had begun. She shoved at him, tears springing to her eyes. “Stop!”

  His lips glided over her cheek, his palm stroking across the vulnerable flesh of her lower body.

  To her dismay, she felt herself respond again in spite of her outrage. Shivering, she used both hands to give him another hard shove. “No!” she declared. Despite his greater size, desperation lent her the strength to push him off.

  “What?” Catching himself on one elbow, he shook his head and blinked, his confusion plain.

  She cringed. My God, even now he’s not truly awake, she realized. The drugs were still clouding his mind so that he didn’t know what he was doing! Shame curled in a greasy ball inside her belly. Trembling, she pressed her fist against her lips to keep from weeping.

  Springing off the bed, she flew to the door, her hand slipping on the knob as she tried to turn it. Cheeks wet with tears, she twisted again and managed to wrench it open. She hurried out, yanking the door closed behind her, then fled down the hall to her bedroom.

  Cade squinted against the morning light, groaning as he rolled onto his side and fought to reclaim his slumber. His leg twinged at the movement, though, a dull throb bringing him further awake. The pain receded quickly enough, but as he lay amid the warm sheets, he realized he was awake for the day whether he wanted to be or not.

  Scrubbing a palm over the rough growth of whiskers on his jaw, he yawned and turned again onto his back, his feather pillow pleasantly soft beneath his head.

  Lord, what a night, he mused, curving an arm over his head. He couldn’t remember them all, but he’d had some of the wildest, most vivid dreams of his life. No doubt an effect of the laudanum. The opiate might help with his pain, but it also tended to bring out unwanted, often unpleasant, reactions. Even now his mind felt fuzzy, his body relaxed but not yet fully his own.

  Not surprisingly, the night terrors had come—the unspeakable memories he wished he could forget. In time, he supposed the worst of them would fade, though God knows, he didn’t deserve them to. Because of him, Calida and her family had died. He’d been stupid and arrogant, assuming he’d outwitted the French and escaped the detection of their scouts, despite rumours they’d been seen in the area.

  But Calida had been expecting him to come to her, and there’d been no way to send her word to explain his absence. He’d worried she would think he had abandoned her, as soldiers on foreign shores so often did. And then there was the simple truth that he had just wanted to be with her.

  For his hubris, she had paid with her life.

  Absently, he raised a hand to his throat to trace the thin line of scar tissue that lay there courtesy of a Frenchman’s garrotte. He fingered the mark, a curious impression rising of someone else stroking the spot—of a woman trailing her fingertips along the scar. But that could not have happened, he knew, seeing that no woman had ever touched him there.

  Since his return to England, he’d been with only one female, a London lightskirt an army friend had thought might cheer him up. He’d taken her to prove he still could, to see if it might be possible to bury his pain in nameless female flesh. But he’d taken no satisfaction from the encounter, scrubbing himself afterward in a hot bath, feeling empty and unclean.

  A whore could never replace Calida. He wasn’t sure any woman could, though he supposed even his guilt wouldn’t be enough to keep him celibate for long. He certainly still had needs, his body reminding him with annoying regularity exactly what it was missing.

  A new image flashed in his mind, the sensation of a pink-tipped breast, of his hand cupping its rounded fullness as he fondled the sweet, womanly flesh. And lips. There had been a pair of luscious female lips—trembling and eager and oddly innocent for such a strongly erotic fantasy. He remembered a woman’s hair, too—long, satiny strands as pale as moonlight that fanned down around his face as she lay above him; her little hands caressing his chest, her kisses as delicious as nectar stolen from the bees. He closed his eyes, hunger taking him, as his erect shaft tented the sheet that lay over him.

  Lord, what a dream. For that’s what it had to be; his mind playing tricks with memories of a drug-inspired sex fantasy. To his chagrin, he suddenly realized the identity of the woman he’d cast in the role of his lover.

  Meg Amberley.

  And it had been Meg, her soft moans sighing in his ears, her graceful limbs shifting against his as he touched her lithesome body—kissing, stroking, and caressing her as he would never have let himself do in real life. And yet it all seemed so incredibly vivid. The
way she’d called out to him while he was caught inside his nightmare. How she’d soothed and comforted him as she rubbed his shoulders and chest. How he’d awakened ravenous with the need to touch her and take her.

  Yet the dream had ended abruptly, its conclusion hovering infuriatingly out of reach, like a puzzle with a single missing piece. A niggling twinge ran through him.

  Shaking off the reaction, he flung back the covers and slowly shifted his legs over the side of the mattress. A large purple bruise stained his hip from yesterday’s fall, a minor misery compared to the others he routinely endured. Preparing to gain his feet, he caught sight of a book and a guttered candle on his night table.

  I don’t remember setting those there.

  The niggling twinge returned, growing tenfold.

  Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he stared. As he did, he caught sight of something else—a thin length of blue coiled amid his sheets. Momentarily, he froze. Then, with unsteady fingers, he reached out and picked it up.

  A hair ribbon! He brought the silk to his nose and caught the faintest hint of flowers and femininity on its surface.

  Meg!

  Quite suddenly he knew his dream had been no dream at all.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I understand the roads may still be treacherous in places, but nevertheless I wish to leave,” Meg told her coachman as they stood together in the front hall.

  The brawny man frowned. “I think ye’d be wise to wait another day or two, miss, else we end up stranded, after all.”

  A knot of apprehension formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Be that as it may, we have imposed on our host’s hospitality far too long and must depart. I wish to be gone within the half hour. Please prepare the coach. The luggage is ready to be carried down at your convenience.”

  Actually, the luggage had been ready since dawn. At the first hint of daylight, she had risen from her bed and begun to pack. After fleeing Cade’s bedchamber a few hours earlier, she’d been unable to sleep, her mind and emotions spinning in agonizing circles that refused to let her rest. Her nerves were in a jumble, but she knew one thing for sure—she must leave!