A Taste of Seduction (16 page)

Pain ripped across his face. “I should have believed in our love. I was a fool to underestimate your mother's need for money. I let your mother sell you when I should have protected you.”

“If you had known I'd been abducted, you would have come after me. I'm sure of it.”

“Would I?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I wonder if my pain blinded me to the truth. After I received the note I was concerned only with surviving my wounds. Yet my wounds pale into insignificance now that I know what you must have endured.” His voice was ragged.

Evangeline cupped his face, and she pressed a kiss to his lips. She blinked back tears because she wanted none shed in this room or in his bed. This would be their new special place. During her imprisonment in Scotland she'd thought she might die from a broken heart, but Sealey had sustained her. Hadley had had no one.

“No more recriminations. Only words of love, desire, and need.”

She'd endured in her husband's bed, but she'd never forgotten the true ecstasy of being loved by Hadley. “You were the only man to teach me about love, about passion. Care to show me what I have missed all these years?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm scared that when I open my eyes this will be but a dream. I can't believe you have forgiven me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Open your eyes. I'm still here. For as long as you want me.”

The look of pain reflected in Hadley's eyes when he opened them made her heart ache. She wrapped her arms about his neck and snuggled closer. “Make love to me.”

He shuddered against her as he pulled her tight into his embrace. She felt safe. Loved. All she could think was how fervently she wanted Hadley, how much she needed him to exorcise her dark memories. Already the terrible loneliness of the past years was fading.

His mouth found hers and gently sought entrance. All it took was a sigh into his mouth for his kiss to grow desperate, as if he needed her to save his soul.

Her questing hands began to undress him, and when she broke from his kiss to press her lips to his bare chest, he gathered himself and began to unhook her dress.

“You unman me,” he whispered.

“I hope not. I'm expecting wonderful things,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Praise God.
He really didn't deserve her. She kissed him tenderly, letting her warm mouth linger against his as she undid the buttons on his breeches. He drank in her kiss, soaking in her forgiveness. He used his hands to free her auburn tresses and watched them tumble like waves of sunset over her shoulders and the breasts he'd bared. God, she was so beautiful.

He tried to stop the shudder of fear that hit him. He worried that his punishment for deserting her five years ago would be to give her up now. If he had to marry Claire instead of having this vibrant, caring, gorgeous woman by his side for the rest of his life, he would long for her for the rest of his life.

As if sensing his mental withdrawal, she urged him to lie back as she finished undressing him and then herself.

Once they were both naked she kissed his entire body slowly, letting her soft tresses sweep his body in a sensual caress as she moved lower. He was already heavily aroused, and the erotic image of her leaning over him, her full breasts hanging tantalizingly over his chest, caused him to harden even further. When Evangeline's tongue licked the tip of his erection he almost rose off the bed.

He lost track of how long her mouth tortured him. He grew light-headed as she attended to him, licking, stroking, and remembering every inch of him. She paid special attention with her tongue to his nipples before delivering a feather-light kiss to his stomach. His muscles clenched in a mixture of tenderness and wrenching desire.

He'd never wanted or needed her more.

When her luscious lips slid down his shaft, his hands tangled in her hair. Hadley whispered her name over and over as she loved him with her mouth. She ran her tongue up and down his rampant erection, intermittently taking him deep into her mouth, suckling him. His eyes squeezed shut. He wouldn't last long if he watched this delicious sight.

Soon the coiling tension became too much to bear and he pulled her up and rolled her under him. He wanted to be inside her when he came, and he wanted her to have the most intense orgasm of her life. He wanted to banish the horrid memories of Viscount Stuart.

She was breathing as heavily as he was. Her breasts pressed into his chest, her nipples hard.

He rose above her, the muscles of his arms standing out as they supported his weight. He wanted a moment to soak in the vision of her. “I never thought you'd ever be in this bed with me like this. I will cherish being here with you, cherish this memory, until I die.”

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “Just love me. Banish the terrible memories for good.”

He needed no further encouragement. Pushing her thighs wide, he slowly entered her tight, wet sheath, never taking his eyes from hers. Only when he was seated deep within her body did he let his eyelids close. He held still, savoring this moment.

Finally his body urged him to move. He went slowly, willing his own needs away, wanting to drive Evangeline's desire skyward. Their joining was heaven, and soon her response made his body throb with sensation. He could feel the rampant need rushing through her into him. His desperate longing caused his heart to ache. She would always be his and only his, no matter what the future held.

The tenderness of their lovemaking gave way to a firestorm of need. In the throes of passion they moved as if one, drinking in each other's cries, shuddering with each thrust, and reaching the pinnacle together, cresting on shattering swells of release that seemed to last forever.

As the waves lessened he realized they were clutching each other tightly, as if scared this moment would be stolen from them. He would never let that happen. She would haunt his heart, his soul, and his life always.

“I never thought I'd be capable of hurting a woman, but I want to kill your mother for what she did, to you—to us.”

She hugged him tighter, but he moved off to lie next to her. He lay staring up at the ceiling for a long while.

Her voice soft, she said, “What good would that do? It won't change the past, and it would simply see you destroyed. No one would believe she had anything to do with it. My mother is safe behind the walls of society. No one would consider my marriage to Viscount Stuart as anything but sensible and lucky.”

“There is nothing in his journals?” He could not bring himself to say the man's name. Just thinking about Viscount Stuart made his anger grow.

She turned her head and looked away. “I haven't looked. I couldn't bear to learn that my younger brother was party to her evil plan.”

He sought her hand and linked his fingers through hers. He understood what it felt like to want to protect one's siblings.

He said nothing more, but silently vowed he'd make her mother pay.

A serene peace settled in her heart. He loved her, and she didn't need a marriage to tell her that she owned his heart. She exhaled softly on a sigh. No matter what happened, she would always have this special connection with him. No one could ever destroy that again.

She felt cleansed somehow, as if the five years she'd endured with Dougal no longer defined her. Her heart felt light. She was finally free of the past.

It was the future that concerned her. It was her turn to free Hadley—free him from whatever was forcing him to go against his heart and marry Claire.

The men were searching for Victoria. Well, she would search for the reason Hadley was trapped. Why he felt forced to marry Claire. She knew who had answers—Augustus. Everything Hadley did was for his family. She would start there.

She felt his fingers trace the silver scars peppering her stomach and breasts. “My body is not quite what you remembered,” she said with embarrassment. Perhaps he didn't find her as attractive as before.

“They are part of you, and you are beautiful,” he said, and placed a kiss on her stomach.

“Are you sure? My breasts are no longer those of a young girl. I did not wish to use a wet nurse. My belly is marked with these lines, and my waist is a bit thicker. And…” She hesitated, but she knew he would eventually see them if he hadn't already felt them. “I have scars on my back.”

Hadley gently rolled her onto her side, and the curses that left his mouth when he saw her back made her want to cry. She had known this conversation was coming, but she didn't want this time with him tainted by the past.

She changed the subject, rolling back over to face him and pulling the sheet down his body. “Age doesn't seem to have marked you. You are just as gorgeous—in fact, you have only gotten more handsome, more masculine.” Her hands traced the muscles rippling over his stomach, down one powerful thigh, and back up. As she did, she brushed manhood, and she enjoyed watching it begin to harden. His arms were solid muscle, and his shoulders screamed strength. He was a living, breathing vision of a Roman god.

“I have my vines to thank for the muscles. I love working on the land. If I didn't have to look after the family, I'd spend all my time here.”

They lay on their sides face-to-face, quietly exploring the changes in each other's bodies. Their conversation turned to memories of their original courtship, his painting, and her love of riding. They talked for hours before it became clear that the only elephant in the room was her time with Viscount Stuart.

She knew he wanted to ask about the scars on her back, but when he ventured a question, she merely shook her head and said, “Not tonight.” Their first night together was not the time or place to grieve over her story.

Finally he ran his fingers over her stretch marks. “These are from the birth of your son.” She nodded. “Tell me about him. He should have been our son, and the fact that he is not hurts more than you'll ever know. But I know I will love him because he is part of you.”

“His name is Sealey. I picked Sealey as his name because it means ‘happy.' He made me happy at a time when my life was so miserable.” The strongest longing to tell him that he was a father filled her, but she would only cause him heartache. Once he was free, then she would share in the joy of Sealey being his son. “He kept me sane. He became my world. I love him and will protect him with my last breath. He will always come first.”

“How old is Sealey?”

This was difficult to answer; would he guess? “He is four.” Well, Sealey was four, but Hadley did not yet need to know that he would be five next month. If he did, he might do the math and…

“Is he a good boy?”

Her smile widened; she couldn't help it. “He is an angel until he wants something he's not allowed. Then he becomes a devious little monster,” she laughed. “I usually can deny him nothing. I'm worried he'll become a precocious, spoiled brat.”

“You'd never let that happen. I'm almost jealous.” He hesitated. “I
am
jealous. He gets to spend his life with you.”

“Hopefully you will too. I have faith that Arend and you will find a way to beat both Victoria and whoever is forcing your hand regarding Lady Claire.”

He merely gave a weak smile. “Speaking of Victoria, what evidence did you find?”

“Nothing that proves she is out to destroy the Libertine Scholars, but the ladies are still looking. I have found evidence that she was the woman known as Fleur de Lily, the French brothel owner. Lord Northumberland confessed to my husband that she blackmailed him into marriage.”

He pulled her into his embrace. “That will please Arend. He can say to the others ‘I told you so.' Identifying the enemy also makes it easier to protect ourselves.”

She stifled a yawn. It had been an emotional day. An emotional week. Her shoulder had largely healed, and now, lying here in Hadley's arms, she felt that the scars of the past were beginning to fade too.

“You're tired. Sleep. I'll be here in the morning, I promise.”

She snuggled deeper into the quilt, and with the warmth of Hadley's arms round her, she drifted into a restful sleep.

Hadley couldn't sleep. The scars on Evangeline's back had spurred a boiling rage that threatened to consume him. The man he wanted to kill for laying his hands on her was already dead. Instead his desire for revenge focused on her mother. And, of course, he felt guilt—the scars would be a constant reminder of how completely he'd failed to protect her. Even if he married Claire, he swore to himself, he would not again fail in his goal of protecting her.

He couldn't quite believe that she had forgiven him. If it were he who had had to endure captivity, he would not have been so forgiving. Watching her sleep, he wondered at her generosity of spirit. Her love of life and her ability to see beauty in everything around her were merely part of the things that attracted him.

She was still beautiful, but her generosity of spirit drew him more. He admired how strong she was not to have turned into a bitter woman.

He, on the other hand, had turned bitter. He'd stopped enjoying life and begun simply going through the motions.

He slipped his arm out from under her, rose from the bed, lit a lamp, and walked to his armoire. He pulled a small canvas and charcoals from the bottom. Lifting a chair and placing it near the bed, he sank into it and, heedless of his nakedness, began sketching her.

He'd not drawn in years, but the feel of the charcoal in his hand, the swish when it scraped across the canvas, made him realize that the artist's eye he'd thought he'd lost was back. He sketched her over and over until the sky began to lighten. Only then did he put away his tools and climb back in bed beside her.

He would now have a sketch of this night to cherish. If he married Claire, when his existence with her became unbearable, he could look at this and remember the most perfect night of his life.