Her eyes narrowed as she examined the room. This one was masculine to her feminine. Deep forest green and beige curtains covered the window and the same colours lay on the wood floor in a thick carpet. Heavy mahogany furniture—a large bed and chairs and a table—took up most of the room. A toiletry stand was in a corner where the morning light would hit the attached mirror. He spent time here.
His coat, greatcoat and muddy boots were cast aside. Fitch had not been here to tidy.
‘Do you find my room interesting?’ Perth’s deep voice said from directly behind her.
She whirled around, taken by surprise, and the cane twisted from her grasp. She hastily gripped the side of the door and her free hand went to her throat. She had been so engrossed in examining his room that she had not heard him return.
Instantly on the defensive, she demanded, ‘Why are we in adjoining rooms?’
He smiled, slow and lazy with a nearly feral gleam. ‘For every reason you imagine.’
The pulse at her throat pounded. ‘You are fantasising if you think I will participate in anything with you.’
He took a step closer. ‘Once you would have done anything I asked.’
She drew herself back, wishing she could disappear because she knew in her heart that what he said was true. She lied. ‘You always did think highly of your skills. It seems little has changed.’
He chuckled, but it was not with mirth or with kindness. ‘I know you, Lillith. You might have left me at the altar because of your brother’s need, but that does not change the fact that you wanted me then and you want me now.’
He took another step towards her. This time she had to edge back. His scent threatened to overpower her as his maleness already overwhelmed her. Somehow, she managed to hold herself high as though she had not just retreated from his assault.
‘Right now all I want is a bath.’ She consciously dropped her hand from her throat. ‘If you will move, I will go back to the chair and rest until you and Fitch are done.’
The manservant entered her room just then with more water. For the first time, she noticed that Perth also held two pails. The effect he had on her was not reassuring.
He made her a slight, mocking bow before taking his buckets to the bath and emptying them. Fitch did the same. Steam rose from the little tub.
Longing expanded in her chest. She needed that bath. She felt filthy and tired and utterly exhausted.
Perth must have seen her need. ‘We will bring one more round and then it should be ready for you.’
She nodded, not trusting her voice to sound nonchalant. This time when they left, she made her slow, painful way back to the chair. Laying the cane on the floor beside her, she bent over and pulled off her slippers. The delicately embroidered leather was beyond repair. They would do for the present, but she would never be able to wear them in public again. Little matter. She had dozens of shoes, as she had dozens of everything. She had married for money and made sure that she enjoyed what it could provide.
Knowing Perth and Fitch would return soon, she quickly undid her one remaining blue satin garter and then unrolled her silk-knit stocking from her left leg. The stocking was dust-stained and frayed around the top. The last night and day had brought heavy use to her clothing. Next she gingerly unwrapped the linen from her right ankle. The lack of support when she was finished made her ankle start to ache again. Still, the swelling was down and she did not think it looked as bruised.
No sooner had she neatly folded the stocking and wrap and placed them with the garter than Perth returned. This time he said nothing, merely casting a glance at her, before he dumped the water. Fitch followed suit and left.
She raised both silver-blonde brows when Perth remained. ‘I intend to thoroughly enjoy this comfort, Perth, but not until you leave.’
He set his buckets down on the fireplace’s hearth. ‘How do you intend to undress?’
Nonplussed, her mouth dropped. ‘Not with your help!’
That knowing, dangerous smile returned. ‘You have no lady’s maid.’
‘I am not a cripple. I can take care of myself.’
‘Can you?’ He leaned back against the mantel so that his broad shoulders rested comfortably against the creamy marble. ‘I did not know you were a contortionist.’
She drew herself ramrod straight, or as straight as the overly-cushioned chair would allow. ‘I do not need your assistance. And if I did need help, it would not be you I would turn to.’
‘Fitch?’
She glared at him. ‘Before you, yes.’
‘I see.’ He pushed away from the mantel and left the room.
Her eyes widened at his abrupt and unexpected departure. She had routed him too easily. Still, she did not intend to waste any more time.
Without more ado, she twisted her arms up and back and strained her fingers to reach the tiny buttons that held her gown closed. The first three buttons were easy. She swallowed a growl of frustration. Rearranging her arms, she undid the buttons at her waist and below. The ones smack in the middle of her back remained securely closed.
The temptation to rip the gown off was strong. But dirty as it was, she would rather wear it again than anything Perth had bought for her. She willed herself to calm down.
She would stand up and try pulling the gown up enough that the buttons were higher on her back. It worked.
The fine muslin evening dress fell from her body and puddled in a dingy white heap. Only her chemise remained. Fastened with silk ties, it was easily discarded.
Once more using the cane, she hobbled to the tub. Somehow she managed to get in. A sigh of unadulterated pleasure left her as she sank into the steaming hot water. A pillow, another dose of Perth’s medicine and she could stay like this all night.
She let the heat soak some of the soreness from her muscles. Even her ankle felt better for the hot water.
With arms gone soft from relaxation, she lifted her hair so that it fell down her back and into the water. Clean hair would add to her comfort. It did not matter that she could not dress her hair afterward. She would braid it.
Quickly she lathered with the lilac soap and rinsed off. When she was done, the room was engulfed in scent. She allowed herself to rest her head on the part of the tub designed for that and closed her eyes. Soon the water would be too cool for comfort, but for the moment it was bliss. Later she would have to wrestle with getting out.
She dozed, only to waken with a mouthful of soapy water. Taken unawares, she flailed at the water, sending sprays onto the surrounding towels. Coughing assailed her.
Strong hands hooked under her arms and pulled her up and out of the tub. A large drying sheet fell on her shoulders and hung to her bare feet. Water dripped unheeded on to the floor.
Still coughing, she pushed back a strand of damp hair with one hand and held the sheet at her neck with the other. Only one person would be in here. Cinnamon assailed her even as intense awareness made the hair at her nape stand up.
Perth.
The urge to turn so that she found herself in his arms was great. She felt the heat of his body, so close to hers that any movement would cause them to touch. She was so weak where he was concerned.
She did not turn around. ‘Please go.’
His hands caught her shoulders and gently turned her, the way she had just wished to move. She lifted her chin in defiance of him and of her reactions to him. His mouth was close enough that she could touch it with hers by standing on tiptoe.
Her ankle started throbbing again. She shifted her weight to her good leg.
‘Go away,’ she said, unable to keep her petulance out of her voice. Things with him were so incredibly difficult. ‘I do not feel well.’
He did not budge. ‘You need more medicine. And food.’
‘What I need is for you to leave me alone.’ She sighed, gripping the sheet around her as though it were the only thing that kept her safe. ‘If you truly want to help me, then let me eat alone and give me another draught of your conc
oction and then let me be.’
The sharp blackness of his unfathomable eyes clouded. His gaze lowered and his face took on a tension that sharpened the angle of his jaw. She looked down and saw that the sheet was damp and clung to her like a second skin, leaving nothing to his imagination. He took a deep breath that shuddered through his body and released her so suddenly that she stumbled.
‘Not now. Not yet,’ he said in a voice uneven from suppressed longing. He dragged his attention from her body. ‘I will bring you food and medicine, but I will not leave you alone. Not yet.’
She gripped the edge of the tub and started to shiver. He mistook it for cold. He went to the fireplace and stirred the coals into a blazing heat. Several swift strides later and he was in the room with the clothing. He returned with a royal purple robe made of brocaded silk. He laid it on the nearby chair and left without another word.
Lillith gaped. His departure had been too easy to be permanent. She quickly dried and donned the robe. It fit as though it had been made to her measurement. She belted it securely. Only then did she look around for a brush, knowing there would be one. Perth had thought of everything so far, she did not think he would fail here.
She was right. A gold-embossed brush with matching comb and mirror reposed on a woman’s dresser. She hobbled to it and then back to the chair. She was beginning to think of the overstuffed seat as an old friend that welcomed her with cushioned arms. She sank into it and began to carefully untangle her fair hair.
She had barely finished one strand before Perth returned with a laden tray. He set the food and beverage on the table and moved everything closer to her. The aroma of mutton and mint sauce made her stomach growl.
Serviceable plates, flatware and mugs made place settings. Simple and sturdy like a man would use if he did not care what others thought of the table he set. Nothing was monogrammed with his coat of arms.
She watched him like a mouse watches the cat before it springs. The brush slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpet where it lay ignored. The urge to jump up and pace the room made her fingers knot into the folds of the robe. The inability to release some of her tension tightened her mouth.
‘Drink this.’
Perth held out a mug she knew contained his cure-all. The strong, musty smell of Scotch assaulted her. The drink would ease some of her anxiety as well as help her ankle. She took it and swallowed quickly, only to nearly cough the liquid up.
‘Wha-what did you do? Double the dose?’ she gasped.
The mug dangled from her forgotten grip and Perth caught it just before it fell. ‘I decided that you need a good night’s sleep more than I need what I brought you here to have.’
She gulped hard and her eyes watered. She felt as though someone had ignited a bomb inside her ribs. But there was more. Tendrils of excitement twisted through her limbs. Her mouth turned suddenly dry.
She took several more deep breaths and pushed her palms against her stomach in an attempt to stop it from somersaulting. She picked her words carefully.
‘You intend to spare me your attentions?’
That was not what she had meant to say. The last thing she needed to do was provoke him, yet here she was doing that exact thing. What had got into her? But she knew. Desire. Desire for him. Only for him.
His mouth thinned into a sword-sharp line. ‘For tonight.’ He spun on his heel and went to the door that separated their rooms. ‘But this is a respite only.’
All she could do was stare. A sense of bereavement moved over her like a reluctant breeze. No matter what she told herself or told him, she wanted him. She always had and always would. Still, before she slept, the door between their beds would be locked and a chair wedged under the handle. She would do the same thing under the knob for the door to the hallway.
Whether the precautions were to keep him out or keep her in, she would not even consider.
Chapter Five
Light streamed onto her face, waking Lillith and giving her a blinding headache. Her ankle added its complaint before she struggled to sit up. With blurred vision, she looked around the unfamiliar room and wondered where she was. Her sight finally focused on a man lounging at his ease in an overstuffed chair.
Perth.
Memory rushed back.
‘How did you get in here?’ she demanded, pushing thick strands of nearly white hair back from her face.
He eyed her steadily with no softening of his expression. ‘Do not again attempt to lock me out of a room in my house.’
He did not raise his voice, but the total lack of inflection was like a whip. Instead of intimidating her, his order infuriated her.
‘It is rather early for you to act the high-handed lord and master.’
Instead of having the effect she had hoped for, Perth’s gaze lowered. The coldness that had made him look formidable quickly became heated desire. She blanched. Belatedly, she realised that the night rail she wore was fine muslin, so fine that it was nearly translucent, and that the sheets were around her waist. She yanked the covers to her chin.
His eyes met hers. Hot, liquid and nearly overpowering need forced her to an awareness of him that she had tried so hard to ignore throughout the long night.
She licked lips gone dry. One hand gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white. The other rose to the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her neck.
‘Why?’ she asked, the cry torn from her. ‘Why are you doing this?’
He rose in one lithe motion. Before she could blink, he was on the bed, his hip a hot brand against her side, his mouth too close to hers.
‘Because I must,’ he said.
She closed her eyes to the desire in his that went beyond need to obsession. Every emotion she saw in his face she knew to be a mirror of that in her own. A soft moan escaped her just as his lips took hers in a kiss that punished even as it rewarded.
His fingers tangled in her curls, holding her head for his plunder. His tongue demanded a response. She could not resist. They met in a battle of sensation that set her body afire.
Her back arched and before she knew it, her fingers dug into the thick waves of his hair, holding him as he held her. Her mouth moved beneath his, an open invitation to anything he asked.
Nothing mattered but the feel of him against her and in her. Nothing. She had waited too long.
She heard him groan as his mouth slipped from hers to trail down her jaw to the place where her neck and earlobe met. His tongue slicked along her skin, leaving shock and delight in its trail. Her hands fell to his shoulders where her fingers kneaded at the hard muscles. Sensation after sensation buffeted her. Desire rode her.
He shifted so that he lay lengthwise beside her. Her head fell back, giving him full access to the gentle swell of her neck and bosom, the sheet once more at her waist.
With mouth, tongue and teeth, he traced the line of her gown, never going beneath its gossamer protection. He teased her with skill and passion. She responded like a woman starved. Her body was beyond her conscious control. Instinct drove her.
Unable to withstand his assault without completion, she gripped him and pushed his mouth where she needed it. His lips closed over one breast and pulled. His teeth nipped lightly, followed by his tongue. Sharp stabs of excruciating delight shot to her gut and lower.
‘Jason.’ She breathed his Christian name as passion consumed all else.
He lifted his head so that his eyes, black with hunger, met hers. His nimble fingers undid the laces of her nightgown as he watched her face. With stroking movements that sent thrills along her skin, he skimmed the material from her bosom. His thumbs plucked at her nipples. Her eyes shut.
Nothing separated her flesh from him. His mouth closed over one aching breast as a hand slid down her rib cage to her thighs.
She gasped, then moaned as ecstasy caught her in its talons until a scream was torn from her lips. Not until she lay limp and replete did he stop.
Reality came back to her slowly and shamefully. Una
ble to meet his gaze, she flung an arm over her eyes and turned her head to the side.
‘Go away,’ she finally managed through lips swollen and sensitive from his kisses. ‘Have you not done enough? Proven your mastery over me? Must you stay and gloat as well?’
‘Look at me, Lillith.’ His voice was low and harsh and full of dissatisfaction. ‘I am in too much discomfort to gloat. I want you too badly, and not in the way we just shared. I want to be inside you. I want to have what you just experienced, but I want to be buried in you when I do and to feel you as you reach your pleasure with me.’
Heat that she had thought dissipated through release and shame rushed back, tightening her belly. The ache he had only just appeased started anew, stronger and more demanding. How could this be? How could she be so wanton, so…so…
‘You make me your harlot,’ she whispered, the words barely audible.
‘No,’ he denied her. ‘I make you my woman. As you should have been ten years ago. I intend to claim you, to brand you with my body and my passion until no other man can satisfy you. Only then will I release you. Only then.’
Not looking at him, she did not see him move. His hand caught her wrist and pulled her arm down. His other hand threw the covers aside. No gentleness this time.
He ripped the gown from her and pillaged her. He was a pirate, raiding every secret she possessed. She rose up to meet him: passion for passion, need for need, pleasure for pleasure.
When he finally entered her, it was one powerful surge that brought them together in a meeting of male and female that took her breath away. He moved forcefully, filling her and overwhelming her. What had gone before was nothing compared to the contractions ripping her apart now.
Her back arched, her pulse pounded and a scream ripped from her. He increased his motions and covered her mouth with his, his tongue imitating their other joining. She went up and over, her release sending him to his.
The Rogue's Seduction Page 5