As she moved her fingers lower he grabbed her wrist. “Give a man a minute to recover,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Then I’ll make love to you until you faint from the pleasure. I promise you.”
Where would be the harm in that? her mind screamed. He looked like a god—he’d be heaven. The thought of his hands on her skin, his mouth on her breasts, she didn’t want to deny him. Why should I?
The wild, unconventional Rheda Kerrich answered to no one. She’d taken risks plenty of times, but she shook her head, knowing to give into him would be reckless and dangerous.
She looked into his eyes and recognized the gleam within. She didn’t respond fast enough. He moved like lightning, and before she could blink she ended up flat on her back with a very large aroused male above her.
“Did you think I’d let you leave without a seduction of my own?” He laughed quietly beside her ear. He ground the evidence of his recovery against her stomach. “I’m going to pleasure you until you beg me to let you come. Or, until you confess the identity of Dark Shadow. Then and only then will I let you climax.”
How did such a threat feel like a promise? Rheda almost begged him to do his worst ... which would more likely be his best.
Her feverish brain was on fire. Her lips parted on a sigh, and she couldn’t help herself. Her hips rose to push against the hard length of him, and he chuckled deep in his throat. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
“It’s late. I should be getting back to my guests,” she whispered against his chest.
“I didn’t start this liaison, siren. From the minute I entered the room you were bent on my seduction. Here I am—more than willing.”
He knew he should leave. He had other places to be, other business to attend to. With a muted curse he decided Stephen could handle the baron. He’d use this blatant opportunity to try to break Rheda. They’d have leverage over Daniel if Rheda confessed to her brother’s black market activities.
Worry knifed through him because whatever her scheme, Rufus had to admit, it seemed to be highly effective. He was hard and tempted beyond sin. When he should be continuing his search for the baron his mind was focused on more personal desires.
He wanted her. The dam had burst, and under the torrent of desire his ability to resist had been swept away. He could no longer forgo the pleasure he’d find within her body. The skill she’d shown moments earlier, her mouth hot and tight on his aching shaft, had him wanting more. His body was fit to burst, and he no longer had the strength to deny himself.
For a long moment he met her emerald eyes. Was that fear or desire he saw reflected in their jeweled depths? What was she hiding? Who was she protecting? It would almost be a relief if it was Daniel. The thought of her protecting a lover sent his mind into a dark hole. He didn’t like the idea of her being another man’s lover. That should have sent icy fear down his back. He was getting too close.
Whether from fear or desire, he was mesmerized by her body’s response to him. He leaned down and took her mouth. She opened to him, absorbing the slow, penetrating motion of his tongue.
As the tentative thrust of her tongue met his, Rufus groaned, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
She moaned and moved restlessly beneath him.
“I know your body craves my touch. Your breasts ache, your belly tightens, and the place between your thighs grows damp.” She was making small sounds of pleasure deep in her throat, and she gasped as his hands freed her breasts and his fingers tweaked her hardened nipples. “I shall ask a question, and for each correct answer you will be rewarded with a stroke from one part of my body.”
To demonstrate, he kissed her again, his tongue stroking deep within her mouth. He tangled his fingers in her silken hair, remembering the feel of it on his bare torso—scorching. He drank from her sweetness, but instead of dimming the fire, it caused the desire to ignite and erupt in a blaze of heat and need.
In the flickering firelight he could feel her hapless gaze search his face. She licked her lips, and his member jerked against her stomach. “We shall see who breaks first. I think you want me more than you’re admitting. I’m sure I can last longer than you.” To prove her point she lifted her hips and rubbed herself intimately against the hard ridge of his erection.
He gave a husky laugh. “I love a challenge.” He drew back. “Fair’s fair, my love. You had a taste of me, now it is my turn.” With those words he slowly swept his hand down her body, feeling every soft curve through the silk of her gown before pausing at the juncture of her thighs. He felt her shiver under his hand.
His eyes held hers for a moment as he raised her skirts to bare her delectable flesh, but she made no protest. Her thighs parted on their own accord as his palm stroked along the warm satiny skin.
Rufus lowered his mouth to her puckered nipple, suckling her as his hand rose higher on her thigh, and he fingered the soft folds at their damp apex.
She was wet silk between her legs, aroused as much as he. Yet, even as his body screamed to take her, he ruthlessly controlled his savage need. He wanted her dripping, begging him to take her, and then he’d demand to know her secrets.
He rose on all fours and swept his gaze over her. She looked beautiful beyond words. Her breasts gleamed milky white in the firelight. Her skirts bunched up at her waist allowed him a perfect sweeping view of her gazelle-like legs and the honey-colored hair that surrounded his prize.
“I know your brother is Dark Shadow. However, he was too young to have set up the ring. Who is he working for?” Rufus was certain the mastermind behind the ring must be the spy he sought. It was the perfect cover. Put a young pup in charge of the operation so if he were caught, everyone would assume all that was transacting was simply smuggling by a young nobleman in need of funds.
She stiffened at his words. “Ring? What ring?” she uttered breathlessly.
He moved slowly, placing kisses down her slightly rounded stomach until at last he could breathe in the heady scent of her desire. As he sat between her thighs he gave a knowing smile. “Are you ready for this, Rheda? Can you imagine what my tongue will feel like upon you?”
She squirmed, lifting her hips in a silent plea.
He bent and set his tongue to her, lapping lightly before drawing back. “A name. Give me a name, and I’ll give you more. You’ll find the bliss even deeper when I’m sheathed deep within you and we are fully joined.”
Her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her, said, “Pleasure is not a good enough reason to betray a trust. Not even pleasure with you.”
He nodded and ran his finger between her silken folds. “I can offer so much more. My desire for you is not faked. With your skills you’d make me a fine mistress. I can offer you security.” He slipped a finger inside her. “I can offer you your dream—horses. I’d help you establish your stud.”
His offer was the slap she needed. The passion swirling around her, through her, all but vanished.
Reality hit home like a cold wind off the sea. A lock snapped open deep inside her chest, and her worst nightmare was revealed. There was no passion without love, not for her. She didn’t want passion, she wanted—love. She wanted to scream out a denial, but her heart betrayed her. It bled at the thought of letting a man who did not love her have sex with her. For that is what it would be, nothing more. It would not be making love, and that is what her heart wanted.
She closed her eyes lest he see her weakness. This meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to this man except a source of information and pleasure.
She could never give herself to a man who would not value the gift she bestowed.
Fury fed her strength, and she rose to push at his chest, knocking him backward, and he hit the floor at her feet.
“Your offer is insulting.”
His eyes glinted anger in the dim light. His jaw was tight and his fists clenched. “Insulting? You should be grateful for such an offer. The scandal-ridden sister to a penniless baron. A woman who gave herself to a Turki
sh prince for two horses.” He rose to stand on his feet, towering over her as she lay stunned on the throws from his vicious verbal attack. “Perhaps you think to know your own worth and expect me to pay more. Marriage? Is that what you are after?” He leaned down until his nose touched hers. “Never. Never to the likes of you. I wouldn’t taint the Strathmore name.”
She hid the pain his words sliced into her heart and hit back. “From what I have heard your father did a good job of that all by himself.”
A hiss escaped through his clenched teeth. “If you weren’t a—lady—I’d kill you for that remark.”
He stood and retrieved his shirt. “If you didn’t want me buried between your thighs, what was this scene all about?”
She couldn’t look him in the eye. She had wanted him. But he’d killed that desire with his callousness. She refused to be a man’s plaything. Her mother had suffered the agony of being in thrall to a man who did not love her, and Rheda knew her heart was becoming engaged. She vowed she would not let a man have that power over her—ever.
Thank goodness she’d learned in time that Rufus had no feelings for her. Real feelings. Lust was not love. If her mother hadn’t taught her this, Rufus’s actions surely had.
However, the night had not been a complete waste. She glanced at the clock. The boat should have made shore by now. Rufus caught her glance, and she watched a muscle in his jaw tighten.
“You were the distraction. Bravo, my dear. I’ve never enjoyed a distraction so much. You were truly magnificent.” He immediately pivoted for the door. Before he stepped through he threw a further insult over his shoulder. “Your brother must be so proud.”
Chapter 16
He did up his jacket on the way down the stairs. He’d left his waistcoat on the bedchamber floor and wouldn’t risk going back for it. Risk his temper exploding and him taking his anger out on her—in her.
Christ, he tugged a hand through his hair. The woman was going to drive him insane. How could he feel anything but loathing for such a woman? His stomach clenched and his blood froze—but he did.
The hunt for his father’s salvation was obviously clouding his judgment. There was just too much going on in his mind, too many questions requiring answers, too many restless doubts. And there was also something else that wouldn’t let him alone—something kicking and screaming in his chest with every breath he took. Perhaps that’s why he’d allowed himself the temporary luxury of just enjoying her seduction. Now that Rheda had opened the door to carnal delights, what reason was there to stop him from taking her—willing or not?
His honor—that’s what. He still had a smidgeon of honor left. Marguerite hadn’t destroyed it completely.
Strange, all Rheda needed to do was flash a smile and he was eager to have her. It was as if she reached deep into him and teased a part of him he tried to keep buried. He was helpless to resist her, eager to forget everything deadly she could unleash.
Betrayal, agony, hurt, and worse. She could drag the Strathmore name so far down in the mud nothing would ever clean it. But he still wanted her, desired her—Christ, he closed his eyes and admitted that he didn’t want to hurt her. Why should she suffer because of her brother’s lawlessness?
He of all people knew how unfair being tarred with another’s brush was. He finally admitted what he’d been trying to fight. He admired her. He admired her loyalty to her family and her ability to not give a damn about what people thought of her. Wasn’t she trying to protect her brother just as he was protecting his mother and sister? He’d shown that he was quite prepared to do practically anything to ensure their happiness.
His thoughts were interrupted by one of his men. “Lord Worthington requires your presence on the cliffs. The baron left the house over an hour ago.”
With grim determination forcing thoughts of Rheda from his head, Rufus grabbed his great overcoat and left the house.
Cursing under his breath, he struggled to make headway against the howling wind. Visibility was limited to the arc of his lantern, about three feet in front of him. He’d fallen at least three times, slipping in the wet muddy grass as he battled the windy conditions. He concentrated on keeping his footing on the slippery stones near the cliff top.
Stephen materialized out of the darkness on his right, soaking wet in his thick overcoat. “You’re late,” he yelled into the wind.
“Apologies. Something came up.” He did not want to elaborate on exactly what part of his anatomy had come up. His friend would be furious.
Stephen moved close and spoke in Rufus’s ear. “Damn, this storm. The men cannot see a thing. I’m sure they’ll not land a boat tonight in these conditions.”
Rufus flicked his dripping fringe out of his eyes and pulled his hair back, tying it at the back of his neck. He knew they would. Rheda’s seduction was all the proof he needed. Why else would she have offered herself to him?
“They’ll come.” He said. “This storm hit suddenly, too late for the French to turn back. They’ll anchor out to sea and row the cargo in.”
“Are you sure? It would be bloody dangerous with waves of this size; they might break up on the rocks.”
He glanced across at their men, huddled with their backs against the elements like a herd of cows sheltering from the rain. Turning back to Stephen he said, “I’m sure they’ve landed in these conditions before. It’s more trouble than it’s worth for the Revenuers to catch them in a storm.”
“Well, my men have been scouring the cliff tops since early evening and have not spotted anyone. Now it’s almost impossible to see anything in this weather. The smugglers have the advantage over us.”
Rufus pointed down the cliff. “We need to get the men on the beaches. They have to land the cargo somewhere.”
Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, there are so many coves and caves in the cliffs around the coastline. Where do you want to position the few men we have?”
Rufus rubbed a hand across his forehead and tried to ignore the water streaming down his face. “South is too rocky in this weather. Take the men and split them into groups of three. Let’s search cove by cove. Start up north by Hallow Cove, the men can work in threes, two men down on the beach and one man on the cliff top to signal us if they find anything. We’ll work down the coast back to this point. Get the men to signal with their lanterns if they see anything suspicious.”
“What are you going to do?” Stephen eyed him worriedly.
“I am going to have a quick check south. They just might be stupid enough to try and land at Sholden Bay.”
“Be careful, Rufus, you’ll only have two shots; one from each pistol. The gunpowder is likely to be too wet to reload.”
He gave a grim smile. “I have my trusted sword.” He stepped back and offered Stephen his hand. “Good luck, my friend. Keep safe.”
“And you.” Then Stephen hurried over to the drenched men and barked out his orders.
Rufus swung around to stare at the southern coastline. It was savage in its beauty. The waves were white foam, crashing against black rock. Spray, falling like snowflakes, was drifting inland on the wind.
Two cold, wet, and miserable hours later, Rufus finally admitted to himself they’d missed their prey. He pulled his watch out of his pocket, fingers fumbling, numb from the cold; he struggled with the catch to lift the watch’s lid. Close to three in the morning. They would have unloaded and sailed back to France by now.
He closed his eyes, bitter in his defeat—and his head dropped back, the rain lashing at his face. Pulling himself together he straightened and stood, head held high once more, fists clenched. He would not give up, and he shook himself, trying to rid the stink of despair he could smell on his body. He strode slowly back toward the rendezvous point, knowing Stephen would’ve signaled him if the men had found anything. His face remained expressionless as he renewed his vow to catch Daniel, come what may.
Ahead of him loomed Jacob’s Point, a massive rock formation b
elieved by some to be haunted by a young lad named Jacob who, having climbed the rock to avoid his drunken father’s beating, had fallen to his death in the sea fifty feet below. They said that on misty nights, the young ghost was often on the outcrop, his arms outstretched as if pleading with his father. The stories were more likely to be due to an excess of gin.
He came to an abrupt halt. About two hundred yards away two eerie figures seemed to hug the rocks, and the hairs on his neck rose. For a moment he thought he was looking at young Jacob and his father. Then his instincts roared into life. They were men, not ghosts. Men—very much alive.
Drawing his pistol he advanced on them. The wind made his approach soundless, and they hadn’t yet seen him. They were too engrossed in their conversation. He took one steady step after another, trying not to squelch in the mud. “Good evening, gentlemen. No sudden movements if you please.”
He still could not clearly make out the men’s features. Then, just as he was about to advance closer, his knees buckled; his head felt like it had split in two. He landed face first in the mud, the fall broken by the softness of the soaking wet ground. Someone had hit him from behind.
He looked up from the mud, blinking furiously, trying to get the grit out of his eyes. The two startled men turned to flee; one of them glanced his way, and he thought he saw concern in the man’s eyes. He raised his pistol and managed to fire one shot at the fleeing men. With a satisfied smile he slumped back down, certain he’d hit one of them. He let a wave of nausea and black spots swamp him before succumbing to total darkness.
He awoke to firm hands turning him over in the mud.
“Are you shot, Rufus? Can you hear me?”
He winced. Stephen’s concerned voice sounded like a ship’s foghorn in his ear.
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