Beguiling the Baron

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  “It’s all right, Tia, I’m all right,” he managed. “I’m not distressed, truly. It’s just that I haven’t laughed at all since Mary’s death.”

  Her breath brushed his cheek. “I know you haven’t, Hal. I know you haven’t. But it was high time, wasn’t it?”

  He grimaced. “I dare say it was.”

  “And they do say, don’t they, sometimes you laugh until you cry? I imagine the body can’t help it.”

  Dear, sweet girl. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, or her commiseration—he’d used her ill, yet here she sat, forgiving him, condoling with him. With an almighty effort, he eased her away and got to his feet, pulling her up after him.

  “You’d best not hold me again in public,” he warned. “We don’t want to give the servants something to gossip about.”

  “I don’t care about the servants. I want you to be happy.”

  His heart gave a kick. She cared about his happiness? This was a precious gift indeed, and most unexpected. “Don’t worry about me. But I genuinely don’t want any of my staff seeing us in our present sodden state if it can be avoided.”

  Hal couldn’t help but glance down at her body. The cloth clung to her in an obscenely provocative fashion, stoking his blood to fever heat.

  “Here, put my jacket back on.” His voice was harsh. Collecting the rest of his clothing, he pulled her away from the water, into the lee of the folly tower.

  “If we cross from here to the archway and the cloisters, we can make it up the back stairs to my suite without being seen. One of my dressing gowns will cover you head to foot so that you can return to your own wing with dignity.”

  It wasn’t really her dignity he was worried about. It was his self-control, now drawn out gossamer-thin. When they eventually reached the protective shadow of the archway unobserved, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  As soon as they were safely inside his dressing room, he locked the door and turned to his fellow conspirator. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she regained her breath from their run, and his eyes snagged once again on those delectable curves.

  God help him. If he could send her back to her mama without ravishing her first, he deserved a medal. Setting his teeth against the pull of temptation, he grabbed a dressing gown and handed it to Tia, then turned his back and sent out yet another silent prayer.

  This time, he prayed for strength.

  Chapter 25

  Tia’s chest heaved with delicious wickedness after their run across the grass. She was now locked in Hal’s chamber.

  Alone with him.

  She took the robe he thrust at her and shrugged into it. It pressed her wet gown against her skin, chilling her. Pulling a face, she threw it off again and went behind his dressing screen.

  He spun around. “Tia, what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to change out of my horrid wet things before I put this on. Have you a towel I can use?”

  “Tia, no. Put the dressing gown back on and go to your room. I command it.”

  She pulled at the hooks on her dress. “You don’t command me, Hal. You can ask politely, like a gentleman. It’s high time someone corrected your manners.”

  “If you undress in my chamber, my manners are your least concern. Don’t you know about desire?”

  Yes, she knew all too well. She’d thought about it a great deal in his absence. And was interested to learn more. As much as she could, in fact.

  Slipping out of her dress, she spread it over the screen, trying to smooth out the creases. “Am I to presume you desire me?” She gazed at him over the top of the wooden panels.

  He paused, arms tangled in the shirt he was currently peeling off and scowled at her. “You should never ask a man that question—it could be construed as an invitation. It’s most improper for us to discuss such things.”

  The shirt was defeated and cast onto a chair. When he reached for his spare dressing gown, she knew an enormous sense of disappointment. Ducking her head, she applied herself to her lacings and swiftly removed her stays, shift, and petticoat.

  Oh, how good it was to be out of the cloying, damp stuff. But she was sticky with moisture, and goosebumps erupted across her skin. “The towel, Hal, if you please.”

  She peeped above the screen again and saw with a quiver of anticipation that his soaked breeches had now joined his shirt. Clutching a robe around his body, he picked up a towel and padded barefoot across the rug toward her.

  It was at that point she remembered he was actually a head taller than herself and would be able to look over the screen at her nakedness. She lurched forward and pressed herself against the painted wood, praying he’d throw the towel to her without coming any closer.

  Her prayer went unheeded. He came to within an inch of the screen, until she was staring up at him. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, the seam between his lips a deep line of shadow. Still damp from its soaking, his hair had lost all its golden sheen, and clung in waves about his face, accentuating the strong, masculine lines. His expression was positively hungry. No, ravenous.

  She quailed but refused to back off, knowing he could see nothing but the bare skin of her neck and shoulders from this position. Hopefully, her unbound hair shielded her.

  The screen rocked as he pushed his body against it from the other side. Looking determined, he placed both hands on top, on a level with her face.

  He was going to tear it down and expose her in her nakedness.

  Tia’s breath hitched. She hadn’t meant to be quite so provocative. The fact the man had wept for his dead wife didn’t make him any less of a man. His virility was undiminished, his basic urges unaffected.

  Keep looking at his eyes, Tia, keep looking at his eyes. Put on your most disapproving face, and he’ll back down.

  The screen tipped, and she grabbed for the top, holding on for dear life.

  Hal smiled. Not the heart-blistering, dazzling benediction she’d seen before, but a greedy, leonine grin. In a minute he would be licking his lips like an animal before a feast. She was achingly aware of his body on the other side of the thin woodwork, his heat penetrating the panels. A mere fraction of an inch separated her quaking body from his.

  Her heart sped up. Why was he was no longer covered by his dressing gown? That could not have happened by accident.

  Enslaved by his fevered gaze, she stood breathless as he pressed his fingers between her own. When his eyes released hers, his attention fastened on her mouth. She wet her lips and clasped his fingers tightly.

  Finally, wonderfully, he kissed her. At first only her forehead, and her closed eyelids—hot, searing kisses that made her feel beautiful and desirable. She stood on tiptoe, tilting her face, her entire body throbbing with danger and excitement.

  He found her mouth. The pressure of those firm, masculine lips made her ache with yearning. She whimpered and pressed her own against his, and he angled his head, allowing her to taste more of him.

  His kiss hinted at sinful pleasures, and she was desperate to learn more. She pulled away to appreciate the masculine beauty of his mouth, then leaned in to run her tongue across the heated flesh, tracing the contours of his tantalizing lips. He compelled her, fascinated her, tempted her to explore what he had to offer.

  Only, she needed him to show her what to do.

  He eased his hands free and cupped her face, his lips bearing down on hers as if he meant to hurt her, but the pressure was raw pleasure, and she twined her arms around his neck to stop him moving away.

  Her erect nipples now rasped against the roughness of the wood in an overwhelmingly erotic fashion, and she tried to imagine what it would be like to rub them against Hal’s hot, hard body. Suddenly she wanted the screen gone, wanted it to take fire from the heat of their bodies and burn to instant ash so they could be naked and unasha
med in each other’s embrace.

  She moaned softly as he dug his hands into her hair and increased the pressure of his kiss. When her lips parted again, his tongue drove in hard, and as her own tongue tangled with his, flames of desire leapt in her belly, stoked by the depth and intensity of his kiss.

  This was heaven. More staggering than she could ever have imagined—and she’d imagined quite a lot where he was concerned. Death, loss, deprivation, misery—all these things were swept away in the passion of the moment. Nothing else existed but the two of them, a man and a woman lost in the joy of arousal, consumed by the pleasures of the flesh.

  He kissed her again with a bold certainty that thrilled her. A moment later, as if by magic, the screen was gone, and she was pressed up against the entire firm, deliciously naked length of him.

  Before she had time to appreciate the shockingly sinful sensation, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the connecting doorway into his bedchamber.

  Chapter 26

  What was he going to do? Tia shivered with delicious imaginings.

  “Forgive me, Tia,” Hal whispered as he laid her down on the bed, “I want you more than I can bear. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to take advantage of you, but I can hardly control myself. My self-imposed celibacy was, it seems, a mistake. I’m hungry for you. I need you to help me be strong.”

  “If you want to deny yourself, why am I on your bed?”

  He seemed taken aback. Hardly surprising, since her voice sounded like deep velvet. She’d almost purred the words.

  “Because I want to see what you look like, naked and aroused, your hair spilling out across the pillow, your eyes dark with longing for me. I’m an artist, Tia. The portrait in my study is my own work. I need to sketch you, paint you, pay homage to your beauty, of both person and character. But I can’t expect you to pose for a nude, so I want to steal this chance to admire you before you return to your room.”

  “Why can’t you expect me to pose?” She ran her eyes greedily across the firmly-muscled contours of his body. He was the beautiful one, surely, not she.

  “Because observing you naked, for the time it takes to create a sketch, would be temptation beyond endurance. I can barely contain my response to you now. Imagine my suffering if I have to examine you for an entire hour, exploring with my eyes each dip and rise of your form, detailing intimately every inch of you, your breasts, the cleft between your legs, and the curve of your bottom.”

  Tia shuddered in wanton anticipation at the image his words conjured up. Yes, she wanted him to do exactly that, examine every part of her with intimate precision, bring every yearning inch of flesh to aching awareness, magnifying the awareness with his hands, as well as his gaze.

  “Hal, please. I’m not a living statue—I’m flesh and blood. When you kiss me, I never want it to stop. When you touch me, I want you to touch all of me.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot believe it. Tia, I’m so unworthy of you.”

  Not true. He wasn’t perfect, but she loved him anyway, with her whole heart. If she told him she loved him, would it help him make up his mind?

  Apparently, the expression on her face was all the invitation he needed.

  Stretching out alongside her, he captured her mouth with his, kissing her until she thought she would swoon from the glory of it. Next, he started an insistent nibbling at her neck and her earlobe that sent frenzied shivers across her skin.

  She wanted him to be kissing more of her. She was a mass of aching demands, her flesh eager for his hands, his mouth, the brush of his hair, his avid gaze.

  Brazenly, she pushed a hand between them, reveling in the sinful delight of exploring his muscular torso, the firm flesh of his belly, and the intriguing pathway of dark hair tracking from his navel to his loins. Where her hand encountered an interesting development.

  He dragged his mouth from her flesh. “I apologize for my unruly body’s reaction.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. “I seem to have no more dominion over it than I have over you, Miss Galatea Wyndham.”

  He ran a finger down her collarbone to her navel, brushing his wrist across one nipple as he went. His finger returned to describe lazy circles around the beaded peak, teasing her mercilessly. When he wet his finger and stroked her sensitive tip, she moaned and arched toward his hand.

  Leaning down, he applied his mouth to her aching nipple. Her body clenched and shuddered as she rolled toward him, wanting to press herself once more against his alluring, masculine body, with all of its power and its promise. But his arm held her down, so he could give his full attention to her other breast.

  It didn’t seem fair he should be giving so much pleasure to her and receive none himself. Tia worked her fingers into the curly hair above the juncture of his thighs and fastened them around his engorged manhood.

  His sharp intake of breath gave her pause. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Have I hurt you?”

  “Not at all. I’m surprisingly durable in certain places. If you explore any lower, however, I would ask you to be gentle.”

  His mouth sought hers again, and she savored the sensation of running her hand up and down his shaft in time with the thrusting of his tongue. He groaned, pushing against her until she rubbed harder, before probing delicately at the silken tip.

  He gasped. “Too much, Tia, too soon. Have pity on me. I can’t control myself if you touch me like that—I’ll spill my seed.”

  She flushed at his frankness, then laughed at her absurdity. “Would that be a terrible thing?”

  “It would be if I’d not yet had the pleasure of being inside you.”

  He wanted to be inside her? How did that work, exactly?

  Pressing her close, he kissed her again and pushed one hand between her legs.

  “You’re wet,” he breathed.

  Wet? What did he mean? “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his neck.

  He pulled back and looked at her, puzzled. Then his face cleared and he treated her to another of his heartwarming grins. But this one was boyishly wicked. The effect on her was so profound, she was tempted to tell him she loved him.

  But what he did next sent her thoughts in another direction entirely.

  He stroked and probed the soft folds of flesh in her most private of parts until his questing finger found and massaged a place whose sensitivity had her virtually sobbing with arousal and need.

  “Hal.” She dug anxious fingers into his shoulders. “What’s happening?”

  “Don’t be afraid.” He drew his lips across hers in a searing benediction. “It’s meant to be like this. I’m making sure you’re ready for me, as my self-control is about to fall off the cliff-edge. We both need fulfilment-right here, right now.”

  The pulsing action of his finger made her squeeze her legs together to increase the incredible sensation, but he ruthlessly pushed them apart again and shifted his body, so he was suspended above her, resting on his forearms.

  The nub of his proud manhood pushed at the place where his hand had been, before slipping inside her.

  She glanced up anxiously when his pressure met her resistance, but the expression of wonder on his face soothed her, so she forced her body to relax. Suddenly, after a sharp nip of pain, he was filling her, every delectable inch of him, pushing up inside her, being welcomed by her body. Her heart skidded to a halt, waiting, loving the sublime expression on his face.

  He began to move, pulling out slowly, while she contracted around him, eking out every bit of pleasure as the friction built between them. He pushed in again, groaning under his breath. And repeated the action, setting up a series of exhilarating vibrations in her womb that almost overwhelmed her.

  He lowered his hips and delved more deeply, increasing the speed and power of his movements, heightening her enjoyment with every thrust, to her very core.r />
  “Lift for me.” His breath came in quick gasps. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

  She obeyed, curling her spine and changing the angle between them. As he delved in again, the pressure of his body urged her legs farther apart, and he took full advantage, filling her completely. She rose up to meet his plunging body with hers, adding her moans of pleasure to his.

  Each stroke brought him closer to her, each advance and retreat sealing the bond between them until she could no longer think of him as a separate being. His desires were the same as hers, he moved to the same pulse she did, and she met each thrust in perfect time, her pleasure escalating beyond imagination.

  Abruptly his rhythm collapsed, and Tia was lost somewhere in the firmament while a million explosions of ecstasy filled her womb. She tilted her head back and gave a cry, never before having been so at one with herself, with Nature and the stars—and with her superlative lover.

  His chest heaving, a sheen of sweat covering his brow, Hal clasped her close despite the heat trapped between their bodies, holding her as if she were the most cherished thing in his entire universe.

  “Are you in pain, my love?” His breath was ragged.

  “Quite the opposite.”

  He bent to her and kissed her smiling lips while she ran a hand along the slick flesh of his back, enjoying the ripple of muscle she found there.

  The floodgates had been opened, their lust sated. She’d been utterly ruined by her employer.

  Tia had enjoyed every last second of it.

  Chapter 27

  Two weeks had passed since Hal had made love to Tia, and he was a changed man. Life had accepted him back, there was a spring in his step, and the folly had been forgotten.

  All he needed to do now was curb his insatiable desire for her and set about the task of winning her heart.