“Let’s go inside. We have much to talk about. You haven’t given me your answer yet, and I want to be sure you give the correct one.”
“And how will you persuade me to do that, pray?”
“You’ll see. You’ll see.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the house and the welcoming softness of his bed.
Chapter 38
Tia marveled at Hal’s strength. She reveled in the shifting muscle of his bare shoulder, while her body sensed the power in every stride, in every breath.
He wanted to marry her. This wasn’t the result she’d expected when she set out to reform him. He was a stranger to her in many ways, but that could be remedied in time. Wouldn’t Mama be shocked? Lucy wouldn’t be, of course—Tia was certain all the queries about Hal in her letters to the Duchess of Finchingfield must have given her away.
But what about Polly? What would she think of the prospect of having a new parent?
That could be dealt with later—there was plenty of time for a long engagement, during which they could all grow accustomed to the idea. She and Mama would probably have to live elsewhere for a while of course, as it wasn’t exactly seemly for a gentleman to dwell under the same roof as his betrothed.
But her mind was leaping ahead of the facts. She hadn’t accepted him.
Yet.
His arms closed tightly, protectively around her, and she buried her face against the sturdy column of his neck, where she could smell the bitter scent of his cologne mixed with the sweet musk of his skin. When she tested her lips against his flesh, the movement in his jaw told her he was smiling. She dropped a trail of kisses up to his ear, surrendering to an overwhelming urge to bite his lobe.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“Be more gentle next time, if you please. I may be a man, but some parts of my anatomy are equally as sensitive as yours.”
She nuzzled him below the chin, kissed his jawline, the high aristocratic lines of his cheek and his temple, and the corner of his eyebrow. His eyes crinkled as he beamed again, twisting his head to return her kiss.
It proved to be quite difficult to do this and walk at the same time. Their teeth and noses clashed, sending her into giggles and him into light chuckling. A great glow of joy spread through her.
Hal was grinning, laughing. Perhaps he was even in love? She hoped as much, though he ought to damn well hurry up and tell her so.
“Put me down,” she advised. “You must kiss me properly.”
“Wait, we’re nearly there.” He set her down beneath the archway. “Deuce take it!”
“What is it?”
“Shh, my sweet. It’s gone two in the morning—we don’t want to awaken any of the servants, or they’ll be out of sorts all day.”
“You’re the last person to object to someone being short-tempered, especially after yesterday.”
“Hush now. I’m a reformed man. Or will be if you consent to be my wife. Have you an answer for me yet?”
“I asked for time. I meant more than ten minutes. Now, what were you cursing about?”
“We left the lantern and my shirt down by the willow tree.”
“I’m sure one of the gardeners will return them.”
“Yes, but what will they make of it? I don’t want there to be any gossip.”
She sighed. Surely, he was inured to gossip by now? “They’ll simply assume you drank too much punch yesterday afternoon and forgot them after your habitual swim. They must know you swim?”
“I sincerely hope not. I keep it to myself and often go in naked. But only after dark.”
She shivered deliciously at the memory of his body, slick with water in the moonlight. It would be nice to think she was the only person who had ever seen him thus.
“Come.” The one simple word, uttered softly, made her spine tingle with anticipation.
“Where are we going?”
“To my dressing room, to dry off. I fear I’ve soaked your nightgown.”
Had he? She hadn’t noticed, aware only of the searing heat emanating from his naked torso.
Her skin burned in the places his hands had touched. She gulped.
“After you.” He stood back to let her past him into the cloisters, and she enjoyed the image of a half-naked peer of the realm bowing politely to her. Her feet seemed to have no weight as she glided along the passageway with him at her side, and even though they hadn’t a lamp, the shadows no longer menaced her.
Soon she was in the dressing room, settled in Hal’s chair, every nerve alive with excitement.
He reached for a towel and applied it to the still-dripping ends of her hair. Once satisfied, he ran his fingers through it, deftly removing the tangles, but occasionally becoming distracted and placing kisses on the side of her face, her neck, and the top of her head.
Avidly, she watched his reflection in the glass, loving the way the lamplight in the room sent shadows rippling like silk across the smoothness of his shoulders and the mounded muscles of his chest. She longed to turn around and bury her face there, taste his skin, luxuriate in the sensation of the light down of hair rubbing against her cheek. But that would be too wanton.
Wouldn’t it?
Once order had been restored to her hair, he gave her neck further attention. First, he applied his lips to the task, then his teeth, creating a languid desire in her limbs. When he gently bit her earlobe and tugged on it, she knew him to be a master of the art. His hot tongue dipped in and out, sending a delicious shiver chasing across her skin.
She tilted her head back, hoping for a kiss, but instead, he took advantage of her exposed neckline and delved brazenly.
Her body jerked as his warm hand took the weight of her breast, but the cloth was stretched too tightly for much activity. Hoping he wouldn’t be too shocked, but desperate to give him full access to her now-aching breasts, she asked huskily, “Shall I help, my lord?”
“Mmm?” He nuzzled a roughened cheek against her temple.
“I said, can I—oh, never mind.” She applied her fingers to the row of tiny buttons at the front of her nightgown and soon had them undone. This admitted his other hand, and she discovered the exquisite pleasure of having both breasts stroked at once, while her neck and shoulder continued to be nibbled and kissed.
He caught her rigid nipples between his fingers and started rubbing the tips with his thumbs. The merciless friction had her gasping for breath and craning back to expose her bosom more fully to his expertise.
Blessedly, his mouth found hers, offering reassurance that her actions, her emotions, were acceptable to him. An arrow of intense pleasure darted straight to the tiny nub of flesh between her legs, and she squeezed them together, desperate to increase the sensation.
Hal groaned against her mouth and slid his hands lower until her gown creaked at the seams.
“I think this needs to come off,” she whispered as soon as his lips released her.
“Shameless hussy. You are, however, correct, but we can’t do it while you’re sitting down, can we?”
The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, being carried through to his bedchamber—again—and being laid down on his bed—again. Was he going to make love to her once more?
I can think of no reason for him not to.
Chapter 39
Tia sank her body blissfully into the clean, citrus smell of Hal’s cologne on the pillow, mingled with the scent of lavender from the sheet. Sitting up, she eagerly pulled her nightgown over her head—and gazed at Hal.
He stood by the bed, watching her, unbuttoning his breeches. Her breath caught as his splendidly engorged member sprang free. This was what she had done to him—she had reduced this man with his power, his wealth, and his glorious body to
this intense state of desire. His world was focused entirely on her, as was her own on him.
“Are we going to make love?” She nodded coyly at his magnificent hardness.
He tilted his head at her. “Without the benefit of wedlock? No, my dear. I gave in to temptation once and am ashamed of my lack of self-control. But it doesn’t mean we can’t share the pleasures of the flesh. Though you must trust me, and not be embarrassed or ashamed.”
“Do I appear ashamed?” She stretched her naked limbs out across the bed.
He threw his head back and laughed. Her heart leapt. Such a revelation to hear him laugh so naturally, so easily, no longer sounding as if he tried using muscles that had forgotten how to work. She shifted across the bed as he reclined on his side. The heated tip of his manhood pressed against her leg. It was fascinating how the thing seemed to have a life of its own.
Thrills of arousal washed through her as he cradled her close, skin to skin, rocking gently against her in a taunting, tempting rhythm. When he kissed her, deeply probing her mouth with his tongue, she wound her arms around his neck and pushed her fingers into his golden hair.
Supporting himself on one elbow, his free hand busied itself with long, lavish strokes of her breasts, her belly, her hips. Her skin leapt to exquisite awareness at his touch, and she reached out, mimicking his actions, delighting in the softness of his flesh and the hardness of the muscle beneath.
She traced the pattern of downy hair adorning his torso, following the valley between the muscles of his midriff. Her fingers joined with the tantalizing forest of curls whence his manhood sprung, pressing urgently against her thigh.
Each time she tentatively explored him, he responded with a sigh, a movement, a more ardent pressure in their kiss. He repaid her by trailing a line of kisses across her collarbone before—oh, glory—taking one aching nipple into his mouth.
Her body arched as his tongue slid across the tender tip, bucking when his teeth first grazed, then gently nibbled at it. She rained kisses on the top of his head because it was all she could reach.
So lost was she in a sensuous daze, she barely noticed when he parted her legs. But when his finger slipped between the now-slick folds at the core of her femininity, something seemed to burst inside her, and she clutched at him, moaning.
Gradually, the expert stroking of his finger brought her body to a state of excitement so intense she knew not how to bear it, and she rocked her hips up, down, craving release.
Would he penetrate her again? Unite his potent masculinity with her soft femininity, fill her with his essence, become one with her?
Through the miasma of pleasure, there was a pull of disappointment. He’d told her he wouldn’t enter her again until they were married. How could she possibly wait?
“Please,” she begged against his mouth, reaching for him.
“I won’t take you now. But touch me, Tia, please. Don’t be afraid. I need to find release.”
He pulled her hand down to his throbbing member, and she gripped it firmly, eliciting a low groan from deep in his throat. Fascinated, she ran her fingers along the hot, hard shaft, tested its weight, explored the skin, softer and finer than anything she had ever touched—and his body arched and bucked as hers had.
His fingers slid deep inside her, massaging her intimately, his palm pressing against her mound—and she lost all control. Time and place shifted to nothing but her body and his, clenched together in intense concentration, eking out each drop of sinful sensation, beyond words, beyond thought.
Anxious to savor every last instant of pleasure, she squeezed her legs tight and continued to run her hand firmly up and down his shaft, stroking, delighting in the way it made him groan and squirm, as lost in the moment as she, both of them devoted slaves to the earthly delights of the flesh.
His breathing quickened, his body tightened, and his hand came up to grasp her shoulder. With a cry, he relaxed against her, chest heaving, spasms rippling across his body.
The grip on her shoulder eased, and he nuzzled into her neck like a child. She wrapped a leg around him, bringing him as close into her embrace as she could. They were now so hot she half expected to see steam coming off their bodies, but she couldn’t bear to let go of him, to release her hold on the man who had brought her such fulfillment.
When his breathing finally returned to normal, he shifted and lay on his back, pulling her head onto the pad of his shoulder. A sticky coldness against her leg verified he’d spilled his essence. Next time, when they were married, he would be inside her and his seed would not be wasted.
Her thoughts gradually came back into focus. There was, of course, only one answer to the question he had asked earlier. There was only one result to truly satisfy them both.
But dared she give that answer when there was so much she didn’t yet know about him?
Chapter 40
So, this is happiness.
Pleasantly sated, Hal curled his body around the woman he loved, enjoying the gentle rhythm of her breathing. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.
Tia shifted slightly. “About the question you asked me earlier.”
He loved the way her voice reverberated through him. “Yes?” Suddenly alert, his heartbeat sped up. He actually forgot to inhale.
“Well, the answer is yes, Mr. Henry Pelham, Lord Ansford. I will marry you.”
Joy ignited a blaze of light in his heart, banishing the darkness. He held her tightly, hoping she would sense the love in him—as well as the insatiable need—and to his delight, she turned in his embrace and pressed kisses on his brow, his mouth, and his eyelids.
He drew his lips slowly across hers, his breathing soft, scarce daring to believe he’d won her. “You’ve saved my soul, Tia. You’ve made a man of me once more, and I intend to make you proud of your creation.”
“I’m already proud of you, Hal. I love you, truly, despite your faults. Maybe even because of them.”
He let her tease him, too ecstatic to complain. Leaning upon his elbow, he gazed down at her. “I don’t deserve it of course, but I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”
“Even to the extent of changing your mind about Polly?”
He considered this for a moment. “In the interests of maintaining the peace, I concede Polly doesn’t have to be sent away. So long as you don’t spoil her too much. When she reaches her eleventh birthday, she can choose what school she wants to attend. I promise not to press her to go to Miss Gates’s.”
“Hal, you don’t know how thrilled that makes me.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Not that I wasn’t happy already after . . . after what you did to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? I’m delighted to have discovered such latent passion in you.”
She looked down the length of his body, and he sprang to life again at her sensuous appraisal. “And I am delighted to have discovered such patent passion in you.”
“Ah yes, the eternal optimism of the male genitalia. My little man assumes we can’t be satisfied with a single encounter and is now ready for the next.”
“So why keep him waiting?”
“Temptress. I’m surprised at you, Tia. I can see you really putting me to work.”
Grinning like a cat that had got at the cream, she stroked a hand across his chest before snagging it in the chain he wore around his neck.
The key to the folly. He could tell from her expression its secret stood like a gulf between them, reminding him there was a lot yet to be shared, and a great deal he needed her to comprehend.
“Hal, the folly—”
He wrapped his fingers around hers. “I know, my love. There must be no secrets between us now. Tomorrow you shall see the project on which I’ve been working. I hope, I pray, it will make no difference to
what we have. For what we’ve found is precious, Tia, so rare, some people never find it in their entire lives.”
She frowned. “You’re frightening me. Is there something in there to make me stop loving you?”
“I sincerely hope not. I don’t know what I’d do if you changed your mind.” He didn’t even want to consider the possibility. Not now. Not ever.
“When shall we go? At first light?”
“You don’t trust me not to rush in there before you come, and hide anything that might be offensive to you?” He was only half-joking.
“I should trust you, shouldn’t I? If I didn’t, I should never have given you the means to ruin my reputation.”
“You are equally as capable of ruining me. Don’t abandon your creation now, or I’ll become a fearsome beast like Frankenstein’s monster, and you’ll have to bear the guilt for the rest of your life.”
Tia gazed up at the silken canopy above his bed and let out a sigh. “Can’t you explain now what’s in there? Does it have something to do with your late wife?”
“It has everything to do with her. She used to enjoy the tower and the wonderful views it gave. Before Polly was born, we often went up there for a picnic on the roof, though the jackdaws usually had more of our food than we did.”
The memory was fading, as if a veil had been drawn across. It saddened him.
“Are you still in love with her?”
Only in the remotest corner of his heart. It was complicated, though. In time, Tia would understand. “How can I be, when I have you? There’s no comparison between the real, living thing, and a ghost. Don’t ever doubt the strength of my affection, Tia. I’m a man of strong convictions.”
Beguiling the Baron Page 17