A Touch of Passion (10 page)

He hated to admit to himself that he looked forward to her casual yet intentional meetings, even though seeing her was such sweet torment. He could smell her enthralling scent after every meal; it lingered in the stateroom long after she’d taken her leave, making concentration impossible. His mood became so atrocious that Seaton threatened to throw him overboard.

He could hear her sweet voice echo through the ship on her daily strolls, once in the morning with Rush, the quartermaster, and again in the afternoon with Seaton. Grayson’s emotions were entirely off kilter. He wanted to thank Rush and Seaton for taking her off his hands, but then his darker side emerged and he wanted to slice off their tongues as they regaled him with daily updates on her activities. She had the two of them wrapped around her little finger. They adored her.

But the nights were the worst. He’d dream of her wild abandon under him, over him, in front of him, every which way a man can make love to a woman, until his groin throbbed with need.

He felt he was going mad. He couldn’t escape her. He could sense his resistance faltering day by day.

Being the coward that he was, he did his best to ensure that they were never unaccompanied. Meals were always taken with at least Rush or Seaton in attendance, and Grayson kept at least one man with him at all times. There was no way he was going to be alone with her while she was on this ship. He knew he wasn’t that strong, and he was determined to win, if not the battle, then the war.

It had been several weeks since he’d had a woman in his bed, and he would not let Portia gain that sort of control over him just because he was horny. He needed lots of protection from her womanly charms.

So far he’d avoided her not-so-subtle traps, but Grayson knew that Portia’s growing frustration spelled trouble. She was tenacious when she wanted something. She looked fragile, but his red-haired siren had the resilience of a tigress, and after one week at sea she was definitely on the prowl.

So it came as no surprise that when he arrived in the stateroom for dinner, he found the door to Portia’s cabin wide open. The playful sounds of splashing greeted him, and before he could stop himself, he caught a very clear view of a very naked porcelain-skinned temptress, lying with eyes closed in a steaming tub in the middle of the adjoining cabin.

He was hit with tantalizing feminine scents rising up with the steam, along with her long copper-red tresses streaming down the side of the tub.

She opened her hazel eyes and licked her lips. His body grew hard instantly. Flames of desire burst through his veins until he felt his body was simply liquid heat. God, she was beautiful. His mouth dried and his fist clamped onto the open doorway. He would not enter.

With a tigress’s purr Portia said, “Seaton commented today that you’d been so busy you hadn’t rested properly the last few nights. He seemed to think you haven’t been sleeping very well. Is that true, Grayson?” She ran a seductive eye over his hardening body, stopping at his groin. He hardly recognized her as Portia. The night of reckoning was here. Good God, how did he fight this sensual vision?

She continued, her eyes drinking him in. “Rush informs me you’ve been taking the night watch at the helm the last few days. I suggested to Rush that he get a warm bath ready for you—it would do you good after being in the chilly air night after night. We can’t have you getting sick.” With a twinkle in her eye and a naughty giggle, she added, “But it was just too tempting, all this water. I couldn’t resist.”

Resist … yes, that was exactly what he must do, he told himself, even as his hands relaxed their grip on the door and one foot entered the cabin.

She sat upright in the tub, the top of her pert breasts visible above the water, her long hair swirling around her shoulders. His mouth watered. His other foot entered the room.

With a raised eyebrow, and in a voice he hardly recognized, she soothed, “You do look a tad chilly after your watch. Would you care to join me? There’s room for two?”

Staring at her, he couldn’t force out a single word.

“What’s the matter, Grayson?” she cooed.

He closed his eyes and tried to control his need, but the way she said his name was intoxicating. His cock throbbed uncontrollably.

“You’re not shy, are you?”

He opened his eyes. Unable to speak, he simply stared at her.

She lay back and let her long hair fall over the side of the tub in waves of silk. She took a washcloth and ran it down over her face and across her bosom. He followed the cloth with his eyes, like an addict focused on his next fix.

“Why don’t you shut the door behind you?” Her husky murmur caressed him across what now seemed a claustrophobic space. “We don’t need an audience.”

His foot moved a step closer.

She smiled. It sucked all the breath from his lungs.

“If you won’t come to me, I’ll have to come to you.”

At her words she rose gracefully from the tub, water streaming over her luscious curves. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he knew she could hear it. He stepped closer still.

Jesus, what was he doing? His very hands burned with the need to touch her, run his palms from her slim waist down her elegantly curved thighs, to slide his hands through her auburn womanly curls, wet and glistening at the apex of her thighs, and feel her woman’s heat before gliding back up to her firm ripe breasts, the nipples taut and aching for his touch.

His mouth watered, wanting to suckle, to taste, to claim her.

“Do you need me to help you?” she purred. “Come here.” She crooked her finger and bade him move closer.

Stay back.

But his body ignored his command. When the haze of his need cleared he was at the tub’s edge. He’d never seen her this forward before, and clearly she knew her power. He forgot she was a virgin. Oh, she’d flirted and teased in her younger days, her innocence making a mockery of her attentions. She’d had no idea how to use her feminine wiles back then. So untutored. She didn’t even know what she’d really wanted.

But look at her now. She was a woman who knew the power she wielded, and she was not scared to use it.

He swallowed. Resisting her the night he’d been stupid enough to kiss her in the darkened hallway at the Cyprians’ Ball had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Ever since that night he had realized that it was imperative never to weaken toward her. Their views on life were divergent; their marriage would be a battleground.

He’d thought that once he left for the war she would forget her infatuation. For years he’d been both flattered by her attentions and embarrassed. If he were free to ignore the dictates of his position, then maybe he would look upon her differently. But after all he’d been through he couldn’t forget his duty. Men like Robert had sacrificed their lives so that men such as Grayson could make England strong again.

Now she was feeding his desire, challenging him to prove he wasn’t immune to her charms.

A wave of loneliness and loss washed through him. Here was the hot-blooded woman he would marry, and yet she was not in his heart.
You don’t want her in your heart
.

“Grayson …”

Her voice took his breath away. It held such power. When she whispered his name, he stepped forward until his knees hit the edge of the tub, as if lured by some irresistible force. He soaked in the beauty standing within touching distance. Pure innocence wrapped in an outer coating of sin. The heat in her eyes made him feel flushed and feverish. Her intense stare set his body quivering with longing. God help him.

“What is it?” she whispered uncertainly as the sound of water droplets falling off her body into the tub could be heard in the silence, along with his ragged breath.

“You are so beautiful,” he choked out.

“Oh, Grayson,” she whispered with a sensual smile, her uncertainty vanishing in an instant. Slipping her arms around his neck, she hugged him close.

He was in heaven, wrapped in her heat. Slowly he let his hands slide down her back, his palms molding to the warm skin, her softness beckoning him.

Through his jacket, he could feel her ripe, firm breasts pressed into his chest, and he had to touch them. One hand slid back up her soft wet skin and with a shudder that rocked him to his core his fingers molded over her hard nipple. He rolled it gently between his fingers.

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long. Thoughts of our kiss at the Cyprians’ Ball kept me warm on the battlefields.” His voice was scarcely a whisper. “This is heaven.” He’d never felt this driving need for any other woman.

Then his mouth covered hers. He kissed her with a fever, hard and demanding, and desperate at the same time. He let his dark need for her overwhelm him as his tongue slid urgently into her mouth, stealing any chance for her to catch her breath. He’d never experienced anything as molten as the fire in her lips.

Long passion-filled moments later, he broke off when she groaned. Shutting his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers and struggled for control.

She pulled him closer to her nakedness. “I don’t want you to stop,” she said shakily. “There is no need if we are to marry.”

He couldn’t respond. For several pounding heartbeats he stared into her eyes. “We are not married yet,” he said. But she licked her lips and the sight of her pink tongue crumpled any resistance. His hands came up to cup her breasts, his palms pressing against her nipples, which were pebbled into tight, hard peaks.

She let out a whimper, and her head dropped back.

Striving for sanity, he closed his eyes, but the smell of her hot, wet skin was too tempting. He lost his battle, dipped his head, and took her nipple into his mouth.

She whispered his name, kissed his bent head, and caressed his arms as they held her.

He should stop this now. He’d pledged to keep emotions away from their situation until she agreed to his ideal of demure and respectable. Give Portia an inch and she would bloody well demand a mile.

He went very still, her nipple resting between his lips. Then she shuddered and begged, “More, please, Grayson …”

He moved across to her other breast and she groaned, digging her fingers into his arms as she arched her back to push her breasts up to meet his mouth. For long minutes his lips and tongue set about arousing her. It was tantalizing and intoxicating, and his body thrilled as he felt the shivers of response he plucked from her body.

His hands languorously began to stroke down her back, tracing the curve of her hips, kneading her buttocks, pulling her hard against his groin. His arousal was intense, pulsating within the tight confines of his breeches. He was in agony.

She was more powerful than any drug. If he wasn’t careful he’d become addicted, and then he’d be lost. Slowly his palm moved over her thigh to her belly, then lower to her beckoning heat. His fingers found the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs, and he caressed the tender, vibrant part of her body, slick with her own need. Although fully clothed, he shivered.

He cupped her, stroking slowly between her wet folds. Then his finger slid slowly into her, making her gasp aloud. Her liquid heat seared his soul. He went on exploring, arousing, his fingers gliding inside her … lingering … withdrawing … “I need to be inside you. You’re so hot and tight,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Portia arched against him, her naked breasts seeking closer contact.

He became intensely aware of her hands sliding over his body, exploring his back, his sides, his hips. When her hands found their way inside his shirt and softly stroked his nipples into hard peaks, lust slammed through his body.

His pulse was wild, and he could feel her heartbeat pounding under his lips as they swept to her throat. He was rock-hard, certain that with a touch of her hand on his throbbing cock he would explode.

Her hands glided down to his breeches. “Touch me,” he commanded.

She was more than eager to obey, caressing his clenched belly and then curving her hand over the bulging outline of his manhood, straining to be released from the confines of his trousers.

He closed his eyes as she caressed him through his clothes, stroking his throbbing rod. It became so engorged it threatened to emerge from the waistband of his trousers.

His hips thrust against her touch, empowering her further. She was already unfastening his breeches. With a groan he suckled one of her breasts while stroking her wet passage, two fingers entering her heat.

She slid her hands into the fall front of his breeches. Christ, he was about to explode.

He dragged his eyes back to the beauty of her face and soaked in the vision of her. She was breathless, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were watching him, devouring him, savoring every drop of his onslaught. Then her eyes closed on a moan and her grip on him tightened as his fingers continued their sensuous penetration.

She opened her eyes as he stilled his fingers, leaving them deep inside her. She stared at him hotly, her darkened pools mirroring his desire.

“Grayson, take me, make me yours.” It was a husky entreaty, filled with such longing.

At those few words, reality hit him with the force of a musket shot. His head pounded with denial.
No. She’s manipulating you, getting you so enthralled you’ll succumb to her bidding.

Only once before had he let a woman get close enough to fool him, a woman he would have done anything for. He’d met her in Belgium when he went to war, and for eighteen months he’d been completely in love with her.

However, she’d used her body, charm, and beauty to blind him to her betrayal. He had seriously considered making her his wife, even though she was not of the same social standing, a mere lieutenant’s daughter. He’d been enamored of her abundant charms, her docile and respectable manner. So much so, he’d been late to a battle, and it had cost Robert his life. He arrived in time to see the enemy gut Robert as if he were a fish. He’d held his best friend in his arms until he died, and he’d cried sitting in a bloody, body-strewn battlefield. When he went back to town, to seek comfort in her arms, she was there entertaining his general—naked save for the ruby necklace the general had just given her.