Hot Silk

by Sharon Page

  Hell, he had left Grace alone for one dinner. He had not gone to eat with the others. And in the space of a few hours, Wesley had groped her and sent her notes?

  “Come to my bed,” Wesley growled. “Let me take care of you, and we can have some fun.”

  “You make me want to vomit.” She turned on her heel, lifted her skirts, and started up the path.

  As Devlin expected, Wesley lunged and grabbed her arm, driving in his fingers to force her to stop. “You aren’t offended. I remember how hard and how wildly you fucked me—”

  He stepped forward as Grace spun around and slammed her fist against Wesley’s chest. “You told me you wanted to marry me. You told me you would marry me.”

  His half brother gave a harsh laugh. Cruel amusement glinted in Wesley’s eyes. “How could you believe it, love? Of course I’d want to claim you, but you know I couldn’t. You are the daughter of an erotic artist. Of a woman thrown out of her home over a love affair. You had to know it was impossible for me to marry you—”

  “Of course I knew it,” she said and Devlin sucked in a hard, angry breath.

  He had had enough.

  Bless her, she spun suddenly and lifted her pale skirts, placing her knee on a collision course with Wesley’s groin. But his half brother darted deftly to the side and caught her arm as he did, pulling her off balance.

  Devlin stepped out of the dark, into the silvery-blue gleam of the moonlight. Gazes locked on each other, neither Grace nor Wesley turned to him. His step had been instinctively silent and neither had heard him.

  “You’re passionate about me, aren’t you, love?” Wesley released her wrist and his voice softened. “You made love to me knowing that we couldn’t have marriage.”

  “You hurt me afterward. Viciously. Deliberately. I will never stop hating you for that. I did not deserve to be hated for giving you my heart, Lord Wesley.”

  “But I deserve to be hated for breaking it.”

  On the path, Dev paused as he heard Grace’s sudden sharp breath. Damn Wesley for knowing exactly the thing to say to make Grace pause. To make her vulnerable. To turn her thoughts upside down.

  Moonlight painted her face, making her green eyes and her parted lips ethereal. Her hand, about to shove against Wesley’s chest, landed weakly against his brother’s shoulder. “Then why won’t you give up and leave me alone?”

  “Because I haven’t yet gotten what I wanted. And what I want is you.” Wesley stepped up to her so his legs splayed on either side of hers and he hauled Grace against his body. “I know you, Grace. I know you’re lusty. And I know you enjoy it rough, hot, and sweaty, Grace.”

  “No! Stop this. Stop. This.”

  Devlin jerked his brother around by the shoulder and let his right fist fluidly connect with Wesley’s jaw. He had to groan in pleasure as his knuckles split against his brother’s chin and Wesley staggered back. Burying his wounded right hand into the gloved palm of his left, he glowered. “Get the hell out of here, my lord, before I kill you.”

  For one moment he thought Wesley would throw a punch in return. For one moment he thought Wesley had gained a bit of courage in the last two years. But Devlin knew he had hit his superior younger brother too many times over the years not to have proven that wealth and title did not always come out on top. Wesley spat blood. “Bloody hell, you damned bastard. I should turn you over to the magistrates.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Devlin goaded.

  But Wesley took two steps back along the path, his hand at his bloody face. “You’re welcome to her.” Then he turned and ran, and Devlin let his laughter follow his brother.

  His chuckles died in his throat as he saw the murderous look on Grace’s face.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I could ask the same of you. Why in blazes did you follow him out here? What did you want, Grace? Did you want more of his lies?”

  “No. No. Stop it, Devlin.” She brushed past him and lifted her hems.

  “Did you hope he’d tell you he loved you?”

  The moment the words came out, never to be retracted, Devlin wanted to kick his own arse. That was a weapon he should have never used. It just hurt so damned badly that she considered Wesley—the smug little weasel—superior to him. He’d seen the truth of that in her eyes.

  He needed to make love to her. He couldn’t live without the pleasure of taking her to orgasm, of watching her surrender to ecstasy with him when she knew she shouldn’t.

  It made him feel more powerful than anything had ever done.

  “Grace,” Devlin said softly, because she still stood there, obviously trying to find some response to his question, some cutting way to retrieve her pride. “Grace—” he repeated her name with all the reverence and desire it deserved. “Can you not tell when a man is in love with you?”

  “Leave me alone, Devlin. I came to tell Lord Wesley to stop his horrid pursuit. Please, Devlin, just let me be—”

  He couldn’t. Damn, but he couldn’t. He pulled her abruptly to his chest. The impact made her gasp sharply and he pressed the advantage.

  Her lips were tilted up to his, shining with dampness, plump and beautiful. He felt the soft puff of her warm breath; then he slanted his mouth over hers and drew her tight against him as he kissed her hard.

  The world dropped away from him. The wind vanished, the roar of the sea disappeared. His world condensed to his mouth on her hot, soft lips. To the play of their tongues. To the supple, sensual beauty of her body tight against his.

  Was this why he’d come back to England? What he’d been looking for without knowing? He eased back from the kiss, twisting his mouth at the irony of it.

  He was panting because she’d stolen the breath from his lungs, the thoughts from his brain.

  “You are right, Grace. I left England to escape love, and I’ve come back to something far more intense than what I’d run away from. But now, for your protection, I intend to escort you right to your bedroom door.”

  Grace tried to wrench her arm free of Devlin’s firm grip. “This will stop now. You cannot. How will I explain it? I was lucky this afternoon when you shouted in my bedroom and no one heard. I can’t risk it again. I can’t risk a scandal that will destroy my family.”

  Grace swallowed hard as Devlin’s throaty laugh washed over her. Just the sensual sound made her nipples lift beneath her shift.

  “I have to know you’re safe, Grace.”

  A teasing flutter raced over her skin as his fingers closed over hers, as he tucked her hand chastely on his arm and walked dutifully at her side, taking her along the path back toward the house.

  He was determined to behave like a gentleman.

  To protect her.

  Sea breezes tossed his unfashionably long but audaciously attractive blond hair around his shoulders and cast a few strands across his wicked smile.

  “This is not right, Devlin. There is no way that you can take me to my bedroom without causing a scandal—”

  His proud grin, the slight swagger in his step, brought her up short.

  “You are trying to think of a way, though, aren’t you, Grace?” he teased.

  Her lips still pulsed with the hot pleasure of their kiss. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I’m a pirate, love.” He stopped when they were dangerously near the open grounds surrounding the house. Before she could protest, he cupped her cheek. The brush of his thumb sent a blaze of heat through her body.

  This was madness. She had to resist. If she ruined her reputation here, she would be destroyed everywhere.

  As Devlin’s lips moved to hers, she had to close her eyes. Tears touched her lashes. Why did she have to turn away the one man who accepted her?

  Devlin stopped, his lips so close to hers she could feel the electricity tingle on her lips. “What did Welsey put in that note? I’ll rip his throat out.”

  “No! Don’t! You see, I tried to speak to Prudence again, at dinner, and once again she gave me the cut direct. As for We
sley…he will never stop this. He believes he can make any crude suggestion, treat me like a harlot, simply because I opened my heart.”

  “He’s done this before?” Devlin’s voice was low, dangerous. “You said you avoided him.”

  “I tried but there were times when he saw me. At balls, he has walked toward me, with a power and harshness that made me run. I didn’t have courage to stand my ground.” She gave a rueful smile. “I fled for the ladies’ retiring room every time.”

  “I will slice out his tongue so he can never use it to disparage you again.”

  “No!” she cried once more. Was she always going to have to fight to control her brutal pirate? It frightened her how close he was to doing something violent. “I gave him license to do this, and it is my cross to bear—”

  Devlin put his fingers to her lips. “Stop.”

  Fierce anger burned in his eyes. At Wesley? Or at her?

  “Stop doing this, Grace,” he growled. “I cannot stand listening to you blame yourself. If you do it once more, I will walk away from you.”

  That stung. It shouldn’t—really, what should she care what a criminal thought? But it did hurt. “I don’t care,” she stormed. “You don’t really care about me. I’ve no doubt you made love to…to all those women in your house the very day before you kidnapped me.”

  Devlin slapped his hand to his forehead. “Hell and the devil! You were not in my life the day before I kidnapped you. Have I even glanced at a woman since I reacquainted us?”

  “You call holding up my carriage a ‘reacquaintance’? What you did was madness. And you are inconstant. How long do you normally bestow all your attentions on a woman before growing bored and seducing another? A week? A month? Or merely a day or two?”

  “It will be different with you.”

  “It always is, though, Devlin. A man always regrets a bruising blow to his wife’s face, until the next time he is drunk and enraged. I lived in the country and I helped my mother with her duties to the villagers. I’ve seen enough men cry over dead wives when it was their fists that did the deed.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  “No, but you would break my heart. I can’t go through that again. Can you deny that each carriage you rob is an exciting conquest?”

  He gave a half shake to his head, a typical male gesture—he couldn’t understand what she was trying to make him see.

  “Of course it’s excitement,” he said. “I’m risking death—that tends to excite a man.”

  “Could you live without the excitement? Could you ever be content in a simple life? How can you promise to be constant to me when you are one of those who lives for excitement?”

  “Perhaps you excite me, Grace.”

  “I wouldn’t always. You must understand that.”

  “I suspect you would, love.”

  Lights glowed in the windows of the house. It was the unlit windows that worried her because those were the ones through which prying eyes could see them.

  She had to make Devlin leave her alone, as much as it hurt when all she wanted was to walk into his embrace. To be held. To feel loved. To pretend she was loved.

  “Can you describe two women who you bedded five years ago?” she asked harshly. “Only two. What did they look like? What color was their hair? Their eyes? Do you remember even two of their names?”

  “Some women are unforgettable, Grace. You are unforgettable.”

  She began to protest but he snapped, “It’s true. Walk away now. It doesn’t matter. I would never forget you.”

  Was it possible…possible that he loved her? But what difference did that make? All it meant was that he would hurt, too, when they had to part. She should make the break now, before she brought scandal down on her family.

  She must.

  But after being first cut by Prudence and Wesley, then having Wesley try to force her into a kiss, she was hurting. Her heart felt too tight and cramped to beat properly and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  She needed to hold Devlin close. Needed to touch him. Breathe his scent. She was able to take care of herself—she had been about to give Wesley a solid knee to the groin when Devlin had yanked him away. But this was not about protection.

  She reached out to him.

  Her fingers slid up to his shoulders, so high above her head. At her touch, he bent and moved them back a step, retreating into the dark. “Make love to me tonight.”

  She couldn’t resist.

  12

  Had anyone seen them as they came to her bedroom? Grace couldn’t be certain as she slipped beneath the sheets beside Devlin. It was heaven to slide into the crisp warmth beside his long, hot, naked body. Her hip brushed alongside his, and he rolled onto his side to embrace her.

  The hallways of the rambling mansion had been quiet, and it appeared most guests had gone to bed.

  His legs entwined with hers, the hairs a soft caress against her skin. Her feet brushed his hard shins and his sculpted calves.

  “Do you want to know how special you are?” he murmured as his arm came around to rest beneath her breasts. His rock-hard forearm pressed against her curves.

  He nuzzled her neck and she whispered, “How do you plan to show me?”

  “I’ve never let a woman tie me up. Would you like to be the first?”

  “Tie you up? Why?”

  His chest rumbled with his soft laugh. “To ravish me, love.”

  “Goodness.” She had seen such scenes in a book—not one of her father’s. The book bore no title nor artist’s name, as though both publisher and creator were too embarrassed to be connected with the work. The pictures were cruder than those painted by her father and many were unfinished. The sex acts were shown with the backgrounds barely sketched in. But the pictures had stunned her.

  Women bound. Blindfolded. And young males, too, spread-eagled on beds, with wrists and ankles lashed to bedposts and their naked erections jutting upward. The first time she’d found the book, she’d quickly shut it and thrust it back in its place. But days later she had been drawn to find it again. And again, she had looked at three pictures, had felt her heart twist and her throat become a vise, and had guiltily shoved the book away. For several months, that had become her routine. Find the naughty book, peruse it, suffer the spears of guilt, stuff it back, then be driven to look all over again.

  “Well,” Devlin said. “Do you want to?”

  Devlin bound? Looking like one of those pictures? She couldn’t find the words, not even a simple yes, but she nodded her head.

  “Not on the bed?”

  Devlin grinned at Grace’s question. “It’s my fantasy, love. Indulge me.”

  Holding her handful of improvised bonds—his cravat, her corset ties, and both her gossamer stockings, Grace nibbled her lower lip. “But really, Devlin, that chair is hardly comfortable. Why would you want to be tied to it?”

  “Discomfort can be erotic.”

  She tipped her head as though considering it. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “Pampered Grace,” he laughed.

  “I’m not,” she protested, but his teasing had the desired effect. She marched over and dropped all the ties but one—his cravat. “I was poor. As a church mouse. Or worse. A mouse always has a roof over its head.”

  He looked down to see the fluid already dribbling out of his hard cock and he saw the thin seat and spindly legs of the chair beneath him. The small chair did feel precarious.

  She bent over and her breasts swayed forward, bumping his face. His tongue slid out, on instinct, and touched the tip of her left nipple. Directly in line to her heart.

  “Oh!”

  He swirled his tongue around the soft, delicious nipple, teasing it to harden, to get big and plump and aroused.

  She leaned in more to reach his hand, pushing her breasts against him. He opened his mouth as wide as he could to take a big mouthful of breast. He suckled hard on her skin and heard her desperate whimper of pleasure.

  The linen
slid around his wrists, which he held together behind his back for her convenience. He moaned at the sensation, the sound muffled by the breast filling his mouth. Her hands worked, brushing his skin. He couldn’t see what she was doing; he could only feel it, and that sensation had him tense and coiled on the seat. It was as though he could explode like gunpowder on the spot.

  Her body swayed as she worked, her breasts pushing forward and pulling back. He sucked hungrily at her skin. The fabric went tight around his wrists. Her knee bumped his hard cock and rested on his thigh. She had to be getting leverage to tie him tight.

  Damn, he was so aroused.

  Her knee kept smacking his cock and he grimaced, fighting for control. He couldn’t come at just the brush of her knee, could he?

  “There.” She wriggled on him, moving sensuously, teasing his face with her tits. Then she moved back and he had to let her breast go.

  With her teeth nibbling her lower lip, she gazed down at him. A lovely, curvaceous goddess limned by firelight.

  “It’s so arousing to see you with your hands bound,” she whispered. “That’s terrible, isn’t it?”

  Sweet Grace, revealing her fantasies and so uncertain and shy about them.

  “It’s not terrible. It’s natural. We all have fantasies and our most private fantasies can be dark, shocking ones. And sometimes we have ones that are just damned odd.”

  Her shy smile made him catch his breath. “After all,” he said, “I’m revealing mine to you.”

  “Why would you, a swash-buckling pirate, want to be tied up by a woman?”

  “I want to be wanted by a woman that much.”

  He heard her soft, surprised gasp, and he watched the deliciously fetching confusion on her face. Then she gave a coquettish smile. “What do I do now, then, Captain? You have a rather upright mast.”