Barbara Pierce - Sinful Between the Sheets

by Barbara Pierce

  "Fayne! Those were the last of my pins!" she exclaimed in exasperation, striking both of her fists against his chest.

  "It matters little," he said casually. "I prefer it when you wear it down anyway." To support his point, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. It came as no surprise that his cock thickened and stirred in response.

  Her violet eyes blinked at him beguilingly. “Truly, every­one is gone?" She circled her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth up to his.

  Fayne flicked the tip of his tongue at the drop of water on her nose. "My oath as a gentleman," he said, lowering his head for another kiss.

  Kilby, his mischievous wolf, had other plans. Waiting for the proper moment, she braced her hands on his shoul­ders to rise out of the water and submerge him.

  "Ha! You, my duke, are no gentleman!" She pushed off him and swam away.

  Fayne broke the surface of the water, laughing. She was swimming several yards ahead of him, when he began his pursuit. Although she was surprisingly an excellent swim­mer, his long, powerful strokes ensured that he would be the winner.

  He caught her by the waist, hugging her slim figure to his own. "Take a breath," was his only warning before he sent them both under. Maneuvering her until she was facing him, Fayne locked his lips over hers. Air bubbles tickled his face as he relished the sweet unique taste of her mouth.

  They were both breathless when he finally let them sur­face. Kilby wrapped her legs around his waist. "So you have decided to be playful, eh?"

  Content to allow him to support her in the water, Kilby reached back with both hands and squeezed the excess wa­ter out of her hair to prevent it from dripping in her face.

  "You deserved it," she said unremorsefully. "I sensed it when I first met you, and now I know it as fact. Fayne Carlisle, Duke of Solitea, you are a very wicked man."

  The dimples in his cheeks appeared as he grinned at her. "My darling girl, do you expect me to disagree? The Carlisle males were made for sin!"

  Kilby stared at her husband, feeling warm despite the cool water. She could not refute his arrogant boast. Fayne was the handsomest man she had ever beheld. The man was flawless. His face was beautifully formed, with a strong masculine jawline that kept him from being too pretty. Then there were his eyes. Oh, those intense green orbs gleamed at her with such need. Her legs tightened around his waist in anticipation. She reached for his queue and un­tied the leather thong.

  "You make me feel sinful, too, husband," she shyly con­fessed.

  Sweet heaven, the things the man did to her body. She felt incredibly wanton whenever he touched her. Using his mouth, his hands, and his sex, he had branded her body, leaving her to crave him even more. The intensity of these longings for Fayne sometimes frightened her. No one had come to mean so much to her as quickly as he had.

  "I'm pleased to hear it is so," he said, his hand reaching between their bodies. He was fully aroused. As he shifted her expertly, she felt the head of his manhood push demandingly at her feminine portal. "Open for me, love."

  With her legs wrapped around his torso, she was utterly exposed to his penetration. Moving against her in short, rapid thrusts Fayne eased his way into her snug sheath.

  "That's it," he said, the muscles in his throat visibly tightening. He grunted in ecstasy as he filled her to the hilt. "A perfect fit." Using the buoyancy of the water to his ad­vantage, he moved her up and down him.

  There was little for Kilby to do but to hold on, letting Fayne control their pace. Her wet breasts slapped against his chest as the water churned and lapped around their entwined bodies. Grabbing a fistful of his long dark cinnamon-colored hair, she pressed her lips to his cool cheek. Her tongue laved the abrasive stubble along his jaw.

  "Kiss me," she said, not above making her own de­mands. Fayne was used to leading, of being the one in con­trol. Each time he lost his formidable restraint with her, she saw it as a small victory, a measure of her true power.

  Fayne instantly obeyed, piercing her lips with his tongue. She parried her tongue against his. Kilby loved the texture and taste of him. His tongue undulated and evaded hers, daring her to reclaim it. She growled into his mouth when he escaped her questing tongue and tickled her palate.

  He drew back and bit her lower lip. Tugging on the soft flesh playfully, he reached for her left breast. "You look like a violet-eyed mermaid with your black hair billowing in the water." His thumb caressed her puckered nipple.

  "If I am a mermaid, who are you?" she asked, secretly pleased by his description. As a child she had splashed in the water, wishing she could change herself into the myth­ical sea creature.

  "Me?" Fayne brought her flush against him. Kilby strained and arched her back, trying to pull him in deeper. "I'm the man who netted the temptress."

  Fayne spun them in the water in a slow dancelike manner as he rocked her against him. Her long hair swirled around them, giving his bare flesh feathery caresses. The playfulness that had prompted him to toss her into the lake was waning as the predatory male in him craved completion. The water surrounding them churned like a storm-tossed sea. His vision dimmed. Focused solely on Kilby's face, he impaled her on his cock over and over. She urged him to go faster. Fayne firmly cupped her slick buttocks with his hands and increased their pace.

  A few seconds later, Kilby tossed her head back and sobbed out his name. She said his name reverently, like an arcane incantation, unleashing his restraint. Bringing her down on him fully, his cock flexed deeply inside her as he climaxed inside her. His breath came out in harsh broken puffs. He held her fiercely, his hot seed jetting into her, fill­ing her womb.

  The feeling of contentment was heady. It was too soon, but Fayne wanted her again. "For a man living under a sup­posed curse, I am generously blessed."

  They were fortunate they had not drowned each other in the lake. After Fayne had spent himself into her, his knees had collapsed and the water closed over their heads. Kilby soon discovered her legs were not much better than Fayne's. Wobbly from their lovemaking, they managed to stagger to shore.

  It was one thing to play naked in the water, it was quite another to walk about without any clothes. Her dress and chemise were too wet and muddy to wear. She was prepared to return to the house for dry clothes; however, Fayne had another suggestion. Shaking out the blanket she had been using while she had read a book under a tree, Fayne laid it out on the grassy sun-drenched banks. He had assured her that this was a pleasant albeit lazy way to dry themselves.

  Fayne rejected all her hasty excuses as to why his sug­gestion was impractical. Dragging her onto the blanket, he lay down beside her. It took her a few minutes to relax. Soon the warmth of the sun began to penetrate the icy coolness of her skin. Lying on her side, she idly played with the dark curly hairs on his chest. He had his arm slung over his eyes and his breathing was even.

  Kilby wondered if he had fallen asleep. "Fayne?"

  "Hmph?"

  "What did you mean when you said that you were a sup­posed curse?" A terrible thought suddenly struck her. "Is it because of me? Are you cursed because you married me?"

  He lifted his arm from his eyes and gave her an irri­tated look. "Don't be daft. How could marrying a woman who matches my carnal appetites so perfectly that she drains every dram of my strength be a curse? Fifteen min­utes ago, if I had drowned in that lake I would have died a happy man."

  "Oh," she said, confused on why her innocent questions had ignited his temper. "Then where does the being cursed part come in?"

  Fayne pulled himself up and braced himself on his el­bows. "No one has mentioned the Solitea curse to you?"

  "Your family is cursed?" She could not recall anyone mentioning a curse connected to Fayne's family.

  "It depends if you believe in such things, I suppose," he said, his lip curling in scorn.

  She caressed his stomach soothingly. There was some­thing about him at times that reminded her of a feral beast. "I take it that you do not."

  He rolled onto hi
s side and laced her fingers with his. "No. Not really." Fayne shook his head and chuckled bit­terly. "At least I didn't think I did."

  Kilby's lips parted. "Your father. The death of your fa­ther has something to do with this." No one could lose a loved one and not think he or she was cursed.

  "The curse has been a part of the Carlisle history for so long, no one knows its origins. Nevertheless, you are right. My doubts arose after the duke suddenly died in your boudoir."

  She hoped he was not going to press her for details about his father. Kilby was not prepared to talk about it to him yet. "Exactly what is this curse?"

  Fayne scrubbed at his face wearily and sighed. "If you are expecting a clever riddle hinting at the wrongdoing and the salvation, there is none. All we Carlisles have are facts."

  "And they are?" she prompted.

  He extended his arm and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "I come from a long, impressive line of descendents. Do you know what they all have in common? Each male born heir to the Solitea title died at an early age." When she said nothing, he continued, “The men in my fam­ily are bred for reckless adventures. We live hard, embrace danger, and are too handsome for our own good."

  "I doubt you will get many people to disagree with you."

  His green eyes twinkled in merriment. "You may be right." Fayne tweaked her nipple and slid his hand to her belly. "We eventually marry. Duty to the family and all that. We breed our heir, and die in some outrageously spec­tacular manner."

  Kilby frowned, sensing he was deliberately leaving pieces of the tale out of his retelling. "Perhaps it is merely coinci­dence?"

  "I used to think so, too. My father was the exception to the dukes who came before him. He did not die a young man in his prime. He sired his children and lived long enough to see his hair turn gray." Fayne looked away, fight­ing the grief he usually kept hidden from everyone includ­ing her. "As ridiculous as it sounds now, I thought he would live forever."

  Having lost her own parents, she knew exactly how he felt. Kilby laid her hand over the one he had placed on her belly. "No, it does not sound ridiculous. Not to me."

  Fayne leaned over and kissed her. "A part of me still thinks the Solitea curse is superstitious tripe. Mostly," he ruefully admitted. “Then there is a part of me that sees that despite my best efforts, I am following the same path as the other Carlisle males."

  She wrinkled her nose. Denying that he was a true Carlisle was akin to Fayne's denying that he was a virile male. "You are wasting your time trying to convince your­self or me that you are anything other than a Carlisle. Good grief, Fayne, you tossed me into the lake and made love to me with such scorching fervor I would not be surprised if our passion made the lake water boil!"

  As he recalled the intensity of their lovemaking, the green flame in his eyes flared with renewed interest. The man was simply incorrigible!

  "And look at us," she said, gesturing to their decadent repose. "Never in my life have I contemplated lying under the sun without a stitch of clothes on. And yet, here we are. You have totally corrupted me in true Carlisle fashion. I dare you to tell me that if you could, you would choose liv­ing your life in a less extraordinary manner."

  His lips quirked into a smile at the preposterous notion. "I suppose not." Fayne lightly splayed his hand over her abdomen. "Do you realize there is a chance our child is al­ready growing in your womb?"

  His question struck her entire body like a lightning bolt. Her skin felt electrified and itchy at the thought. Was she pregnant with Fayne's child? She placed her hand on the soft curve of her belly and tried to recall the date of her last menses. It had taken place before she had first encountered Fayne.

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his smug, knowing expression. "You have done nothing to prevent such an outcome," she said flatly. There was no question in her in­flection. She saw the answer in his beautiful, arrogant eyes.

  "Not once," he admitted unapologetically.

  The countless times he had taken her flashed in her mind. Fayne had come to her so demanding, so hungrily.

  Fayne bent his head over her stomach and kissed her belly. "I would be jubilant if you were. As would the family be, especially my mother. I knew after that night I first lost myself in your wonderfully snug body on the sofa that you were fated to be my duchess. As the Duke of Solitea, pro­ducing the next Carlisle heir is one of my primary duties to the title and the family. I saw no reason to deny myself the pleasure." When she seemed displeased by his answer, he added, "If our child, indeed, sleeps in your womb, no court will consider your brother's claim of guardianship. You are my wife now. You and the babe belong to me."

  "This pleases you?" she asked skeptically. Perhaps this was what he meant when he spoke of curses and his fol­lowing the same path as his ancestors. If he had married and sired his heir, then there was nothing left but to wait for the family curse to claim him.

  "Yes, Duchess, it does." Fayne rolled on top of her and settled between her legs. "From now on, I am prepared to dedicate myself wholly to my duties."

  His body was so hot from the sun his flesh burned hers. Aroused, she felt his manhood prodding her moist heat, urging her to take him into her body. She shifted her legs slightly, and their bodies melded together. Any uneasiness she felt about the Solitea curse faded from her conscious­ness as she yielded to his pleasurable stroking and denied him nothing.

  CHAPTER 19

  Someone had been watching them.

  Fayne crouched down next to the set of fairly fresh boot prints he discovered near the lake, not far from where he and Kilby had made love the previous day. He stroked his jaw contemplatively as he studied the shallow imprints. Judging from the size, he knew he had not made them. Stevens had not returned from the village yet so he ruled the coachman out, too.

  He owned the surrounding two hundred and fifty acres. His family had never had a problem with poachers, although it seemed the safer explanation than his first thought— Nipping had tracked Kilby to Carlisle Park. By now, the marquess had probably coerced Lady Quennell into con­fessing that Fayne had eloped with Kilby. If the man had a jot of intelligence, he should graciously accept that his sis­ter was beyond his reach. He had no hope of taking her from Fayne. Kilby was a Carlisle.

  Still, no one had ever credited a lunatic with rational thinking.

  Fayne stood, his gaze broodingly fixed on the boot im­prints that should not be there. If Nipping had been watch­ing him and Kilby frolicking in the water yesterday, he hoped the man had realized the futility of separating them. He did not want to kill his wife's brother, even if the man unquestionably deserved it.

  Returning to the house, he found Kilby perched on the edge of a chair while she brushed out her hair. She was dressed only in her chemise. Fayne raised a brow at her scanty albeit alluring attire. Aggie was not expected to ar­rive for several hours.

  "You do not look like you washed, Your Grace," she teased, tipping her head up so he could graze his lips over hers. "Were you waiting for me to scrub your back?"

  "A charming idea," he said with false cheeriness. "One I hope to pursue later. While I was near the lake I discovered some game tracks. I think I'll postpone my bath and go hunting. Besides, I like the thought of providing for my duchess."

  Kilby nodded. She was unaware of the tension and an­ticipation coiling in his gut. "I suppose you hunt each time you stay here. Do you regret that you have been so dis­tracted lately to spare a single moment to the hunt?"

  Was she serious? No man loved hunting game that much. "You are a delightful distraction I would choose over hunting any day." Fayne kissed her lingeringly on the mouth. He wished he could carry her upstairs and spend the day in bed with her. Regrettably, duty came first. He needed to make certain her crazy brother was not stalking them. "What will you do in my absence?"

  "Nothing very interesting," she said, trailing after him as he went to find his father's rifle. "I think I will bathe in the lake. My hair needs a good scrubbing."

/>   Fayne paused at her announcement. If he ordered Kilby to remain in the house, she would demand an explanation. He had been assuring her for days that she was safe on Carlisle lands. No harm could befall her if she simply planned on washing herself in the shallows of the lake. Until he knew for certain, he did not want to reveal his suspicions to her.

  He tried another tactic. Pulling her into his arms, he said, "If you want to delay your bath, I will personally over­see the scrubbing of your back, and any other part of your delectable body that you feel needs my special attention."

  "Hmm... a tempting offer, Your Grace," she said, press­ing her breasts against his chest. "Still, I know you. I will never get my hair properly washed with you underfoot. Go on, off you go." Using both hands, she dismissed him with a departing gesture. "My stomach will indubitably appreci­ate your efforts later."

  The second she turned away to collect the articles she needed for her bath, Fayne's smile faded. Pivoting on his heel, he focused his thoughts on the hunt.

  Kilby grasped the trunk of a tree while she slipped off her shoes. Fayne had left the house fifteen minutes earlier, in­tent on hunting the anima' tracks he had discovered near the lake. She did not understand why he had a sudden urge to hunt for game. Kilby had not even known her new hus­band was an avid hunter. It was another example of how little she knew about the man she had married.

  With the sweet almond soap ball clutched in her hand, Kilby waded out into the lake. Despite her claims yester­day about the lake being too frigid, the water was rather comfortable once she had gotten over her initial shock. Without Fayne there to talk her into removing her chemise, she was keeping the undergarment on. Aggie was due to arrive soon and the coachman could return without any warning. Though it was flimsy, Kilby wanted something covering her.