Windswept

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Oh, but that one kiss! His brandy-scented mouth tempted her to taste more and more, and his thrusting tongue marked his possession of her. The force of his need—and her own—alarmed her.

  As if he sensed that, he stroked her neck with a silken touch, like a rider soothing a skittish colt. But when he slid his fingers along her collarbone to the neckline of her gown, she backed away, only to come up against the window seat.

  Pressing her down onto it, he bent to kiss her again.

  “No, Evan, we can’t . . . we mustn’t . . .”

  “We will.”

  He kissed a path from her ear down the slope of her neck, turning her insides to liquid. When he dragged her gown down to bare her breasts and his mouth seized one to work its magic, she clutched his shoulders, anchoring him to her.

  “That’s it, my darling,” he murmured. “Show me your sweetness . . . let me love you.” He tugged at her nipple with his teeth, sending shocks of pleasure through her, weakening her will even further.

  This is insane. I can’t let him do this. In the end, they’d both lose.

  “Stop it!” she cried. “This won’t change anything. I can’t marry you.”

  Black eyes glittering, he loomed over her. “You can and you will, if I have to abduct you to be sure of it.”

  She curled her fists against his chest. “It was torture enough watching Willie die, and I didn’t even love him. But I love you, so if I watch you die . . . I can’t bear it. And without the chalice, I know you will!”

  “I won’t. Now that I have you, I won’t allow it.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “A pox on you, it’s not a matter of choosing!”

  Her distress seemed to affect him at last. He caught her fist and kissed it until her fingers uncurled. “If you’re so sure of the power of your curse, my love, then we’ll get the chalice back. All I have to do is take it from Morys.”

  “Oh, certainly,” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure David will be delighted to hand it over to his rival so you can marry me. He’d destroy it first.”

  “Then we’ll go to the authorities and charge him with theft.”

  “And he’ll tell them how I came by it, how I’m suspected of taking part in a murder. Is that what you want?”

  He scowled. “All right, I’ll take it from him by force.”

  She gripped his hand. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You’ll try that, and he’ll shoot you. Only this time he’ll kill you. You’ll be dead before we even marry.”

  “There are many kinds of death, my love. If I don’t have you, I’ll still die, just not physically. Oh, I’ll continue to teach and write my books, for I know nothing else. But I’ll find no joy or purpose in it. My life will be over.”

  He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers in a gentle caress. “And if you consign me to that death, I promise to rub your face in it for the rest of your life. I’ll become a schoolteacher in Llanddeusant, right under that deuced Morys’s nose, and I’ll either provoke the bastard until he kills me or I’ll pine away before your very eyes. What will you do then? Will you close yourself up at Plas Niwl to avoid the sight of me grown pale and thin?”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. “Will you lie in bed wanting me, all the while knowing I’m only a mile away, wanting you? If I come and sit outside in the rain, will you tell Bos to let me in? Or will you watch out the window and know I’m thinking only of you, that my every breath is for you, that I’m slowly dying with want of you?”

  She closed her eyes. “You . . . you wouldn’t do all those things.”

  “I would.”

  “You’d find another woman to love.”

  “I wouldn’t.” He kissed her eyelids. “You underestimate me if you think I’d give you up without a fight. Even last night, when I was convinced you didn’t want me, I was ­already trying to find a way to make you love me. I’d already decided I’d rather spend a short, torturous time with you than an untroubled eternity without you.”

  She opened her eyes to find him staring at her so sincerely that she couldn’t doubt his words. “I could be your mistress. We could live as husband and wife without ever marrying. Then the curse couldn’t touch us.”

  His eyes hardened. “Live in sin in Llanddeusant? Where people already gossip about you? You’d raise our children as bastards and subject them to the same whispers and veiled glances you and I have suffered all our lives?” When she paled, he went on relentlessly. “Or perhaps you’d hire a manager for your estate and travel with me to Cambridge. Of course, I’d have to hide you from the prying eyes of my superiors.”

  She groaned, and he growled, “No, that wouldn’t work in a university town. So we’d have to live in London, where I could travel to Cambridge with ease, always hiding the existence of my mistress. Or I could leave the university entirely and claim we’re married. But we could never be comfortable in London, and you know it. We’re Welsh, we’re peculiar . . . we’re the kind of people invited to social occasions out of curiosity.”

  The truth was painful, and she turned her face in a futile attempt to avoid his harsh words.

  “You spent a few days in London,” he went on fiercely. “Did you enjoy it? Did you long to live amidst the grime and misery? Because I hate the refuse in the streets, the black grind of poverty, and the corrupt nobility. I don’t want to raise my children there.”

  He turned her face toward him. “I want to raise them in a community where I have some friends. With my wife. I know I said I’d be your lover, but that was when I thought I dared not marry. I don’t feel that way now.”

  “Every choice you give me is awful,” she whispered. “What am I to do?”

  “You’re to trust me. We’ll find a way around the curse. We’ll get the chalice back, I swear it. But we must do it together.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  A dark smile lit his face as he drew her gown up her legs. “Then let me show you what you’d be missing if you refuse me, my darling.”

  He parted her legs with his muscled thigh and pulled her forward until her privates rested against it. Dragging his knee over her, he watched with clear satisfaction as she sucked in a breath, then another and another. He repeated the caress until she was damp and aching.

  “My Lady of the Mists,” he whispered. “You know you want me. That’s all that matters.”

  He slipped his hand beneath her skirts to fondle her warm, wet softness. Another gasp escaped her and he caught it with his mouth, then trailed openmouthed kisses down her throat. His tongue darted out to taste her wherever his mouth touched, leaving fire in its wake.

  It was too much pleasure to bear. With a sigh, she clasped his shoulders. This time when he sucked her breasts, she arched her head and closed her eyes to soak up every moment. But he broke off far too quickly, dropping to the floor to kneel between her legs.

  Her eyes shot open as he bared her patch of ebony curls to his hungry gaze. “What are you doing?”

  “Making you burn, my darling girl,” he said. “Making you burn.”

  Then he parted her curls and pressed a most intimate kiss to the soft petals between her legs. Every part of her body leapt to life at the incredible touch of his tongue, and when he caressed her with his mouth, finding all the places where she ached for his touch, she whispered, “Good Lord . . . Evan . . .”

  His mouth was both fire and frost, arousing, then soothing, then arousing again. As his tongue darted inside her, she clasped his neck with a drawn-out moan, leaning back to give him better access.

  By heaven, how amazing. It had never occurred to her that mouths could be used like this. Heat and want built within her in equal portions, making her move against him to get more and more of his mouth.

  Then it left her, and she sagged against the window, feeling unfulfilled and ravenous. He stood and pressed between her legs, using his hand to continue the caresses he’d given her with his mouth. And all the while he watched her.

  “Do yo
u want more of this, sweet Catrin?” He stroked her roughly, then found the hard kernel that seemed to be the center of her pleasure and thumbed it until she cried out at the surge of molten wanting that poured over her.

  As her body shuddered, she buried her face in his shoulder, ashamed to admit that she did indeed want more. She felt his every stroke to the depths of her soul, and each seductive touch shook her.

  Then he slid one finger deep inside, eliciting a gasp from her. “Do you like that, my love?” His voice was hoarse with his own need. “Do you want to see what it can be like between us when there’s no pain, when there’s love instead of mistrust?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, unable to help herself. “Oh yes.”

  “I want to bury myself inside you. Will you let me?”

  He was already unbuttoning his breeches, and she realized with a little shiver of horror and fascination that he intended to take her right there, against the window in broad daylight. “Evan . . . someone might see . . .”

  “No one will see.” He dragged his breeches and drawers down far enough to expose his rigid shaft. “No one’s home. The Vaughans have gone to town.”

  He caught her beneath one knee, then pulled her toward him until her bottom rested on the edge of the window seat and his shaft nudged her wet heat.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “But the servants—”

  “—are not standing outside staring up at your window,” he finished for her. “And in any case, they’d see nothing but your respectably clothed back.”

  “But Evan—”

  “Hush,” he growled, spreading kisses in her disordered hair. “I need you so badly . . . and with my arm in a sling, the conventional position will be hard to manage.” He nipped her ear. “Please . . . if you want me, do as I say.”

  “You know I do,” she said with a groan.

  “Then guide me in, love.”

  It took her a second to understand what he meant, but though she blushed, she did as he asked, intoxicated by the thought of having him inside her again. There was some shifting of bodies, and the position was a bit awkward, but when he drove in deep, she forgot all that.

  “Good God, Catrin . . .” he said as his breath quickened. “You are . . . oh, my love, you’re exquisite.”

  When he bent her back against the window and began to move, an urge more basic even than hunger had her looping her arms about his neck and curling her legs behind his until she was fully open, aching to feel him buried inside her.

  Evan could scarcely believe it when he felt her clamp her thighs about his hips. He’d won this part of the battle, at least. As long as he kept her wanting him, he had a chance to break down her fears about their marrying.

  She shifted to allow him to sink even farther inside her, and he groaned. God, she was heaven . . . so tight and warm. The sensation of entering her body was beyond anything he’d ever felt, and he knew it was because of who she was . . . the kindest, most generous woman he’d ever known. She hadn’t cared about his past. And he wouldn’t let her regret giving herself to him.

  Anchoring her with his good arm, he bent his head to taste her mouth the way he knew she liked as he thrust into her.

  He could feel the tension build in her body as she writhed against him with undulating movements that drove him mad. Pray heaven he could restrain himself long enough to let her find her release, for this was his only way to keep her, to “secure her soul.”

  With one hand in a sling and the other holding her, caressing her breasts was impossible. Instead, he used his mouth on her lush lips, her delightful ears, her enticing neck, nipping and sucking and kissing all the places he thought would thrill her, all the places he adored.

  Then the animal in him took over. He’d been without her too long and she felt too good. Soon he was losing himself in her, driving her hard, trying to immerse himself in her sweetness as he rode out the storm.

  She didn’t seem to mind, for she clamped her legs about him and strained to join her body more closely to his, making mewling sounds that brought him to the edge of sanity. “Catrin . . . my love . . . my life . . .” he whispered as he quickened his pace.

  Holding back became impossible as she ground her hips against him and his need for her built to mind-­numbing heights. So when her thighs tensed around him and she cried out, he exploded into her in a shattering release, joining his cries to hers as her spasms wrung him dry.

  Afterward, it took some time for the thundering of his blood to subside and his muscles to relax. He clutched her close as if to fuse her to him, and when she laid her head limply on his shoulder, he began to feel a painful throbbing near the site of his wound.

  Still, he was loath to move. Having her body draped around his was the utmost in contentment, and if not for his waning strength, he could have stayed there forever.

  He managed to wait until she stirred against his chest before he pressed a lingering kiss to her reddened lips. “What do you say, love? Shall we move to the bed? I confess I got little rest last night, and I can think of nothing more perfect than sleeping in your arms.”

  His words seemed to draw her out of some enchanted place, for she gazed up at him with a start. “But it’s daylight and . . . and the servants will wonder.”

  He laughed. “For a woman of your rank, you have the most extraordinary concern for what the servants might think. Trust me, these servants are most discreet. And I suspect that Juliana ordered this part of the house off-­limits for the day anyway.”

  Blushing, she trailed her fingers down his chest. “Surely you don’t think she was encouraging us to . . . to—”

  “Make love? Of course she was. I assure you that the Vaughans don’t make a practice of running off to town when they have guests.”

  “She’s a very unusual woman, isn’t she?” Catrin ventured.

  “No more unusual than you, my darling.” When she seemed pleased at that statement, he added, “And I want to spend the day and most of the night making love to my unusual woman.”

  “You wicked man!” she scolded, but she didn’t protest and even helped him to unhook her gown, then draw it off.

  “This isn’t how it’s usually done, you know.” He pulled off his drawers and breeches, then somehow managed to get his shirt off over his head. “Most people undress before they make love.” After dragging off her shift, he led her to the bed. He lay down, then pulled her on top of him with a smile. Naked and splayed across his body, she looked like a goddess, and he hardened once more.

  He nudged her legs apart with his thigh and watched as her eyes widened. “I’m not finished making you burn.” He ground his hips up against her, letting her feel his burgeoning arousal. “By the time I get through with you, you’ll be begging me to marry you.”

  He teased her nipple until she gasped. “Begging, I tell you.”

  Either that or he’d be dead, and not from her bloody curse, either. She was enough woman to send a man to an early grave.

  Oh, but he’d die happy.

  20

  In the middle of the night, Catrin awakened with a start. She’d dreamed that the Vaughans had discovered her and Evan together and had thrown her out. The shame lingered, and she glanced over at Evan, sleeping peacefully at her side.

  How could he feel so little guilt about consorting with her beneath the very noses of his benefactors? It was true that the Vaughans weren’t in residence, but who knew when they might return? The servants had insisted that they often stayed overnight at their town house in Carmarthen, but Catrin still felt uneasy about the scandalous things she and Evan were doing here.

  Not him. He had kept her in bed most of the day.

  It surprised her how much she’d enjoyed being on top of him. Once she’d lost her embarrassment at being so blatantly exposed to his gaze, she’d liked having control. Oh, the things he’d shown her! No wonder he’d been amazed that she hadn’t sought a lover before. She’d never dreamed what she was missing . . . the wonderful cresting pleasure
of being in the arms of the man she loved.

  When they’d gone down to dinner and heard their hosts were staying in Carmarthen for the night, that had given Evan license to behave even more shamelessly. As they’d sat beside each other, he’d fondled her under the table!

  And though terrified of discovery, she’d found the most awful thrill in it. Then she’d fought fire with fire, slipping her hand inside his breeches to clasp him. She’d meant it only to tease him, but when she’d tried to withdraw her hand, he’d murmured, “Leave it there, love.” By the time the next course had come, he’d been hard as iron. They’d made short work of their meal, so aroused they’d barely made it up the stairs to bed before falling upon each other.

  What a beautiful, glorious night.

  Now he was sleeping. Such an angelic face. No one would ever guess the fierceness of his passions . . . or the mischievousness he hid beneath his scholarly facade. Last night at dinner, it was as if he’d wanted to draw her into a conspiracy of desire, where she chose him over the strictures of society.

  That had been an easy choice. All her life, she’d been gossiped about for things she hadn’t done. It was nice, for once, to do something that merited gossip . . . and get away with it.

  But stolen caresses were one thing; a lifetime of flouting convention was another. So that left only one choice: She must get the chalice back. Alone. If Evan was involved, David would never give it back to her. But if she approached him on her own, she might get him to return it.

  And the sooner the better. Once the Vaughans returned, getting away without being noticed would be near to impossible.

  Slipping from the bed, she dressed swiftly. She had to write a note, for she couldn’t leave Evan wondering where she’d gone. And she’d have to saddle a horse herself without rousing any servants.

  Where should she look for David, though? Carmarthen? No, by now he would have heard they weren’t on the coach, and would have given up his pursuit to return to Llanddeusant.