A Woman Scorned (36 page)

As her hand slid beneath the linen of his drawers to take the velvet weight of him in her hand, Cole drew in his breath on a hiss. In response, Jonet slowly eased her fingers up and down his length, feeling the blood pulse beneath the velvet surface of his skin. Deep, shuddering need passed through him, and as it faded, Cole gave her a rough shake.

“So you want that, Jonet?” he growled. “I am to simply pleasure you? To set aside my principles so that your noble ladyship can have her way with the
hired help?
” He shook her again. “Because, by God, if that’s what you want, then you’d better make damned sure it’s worth my while.”

Jonet lifted her gaze from his erection and stared at him unblinkingly. “Oh, I didn’t hire you, Cole,” she softly corrected. “But I
will
make it worth your while.”

With a slow deliberation, she slid one hand down his impressive length again, feeling him vibrate with suppressed lust. Atop her shoulder, his hand trembled, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Ah, sweet, sweet heaven!
How she wanted to lie beneath him, to feel him come deep inside her. “Are you still reluctant, Cole?” she softly teased, tightening her grip at the base of his manhood. “Can I perhaps persuade you with—”

In a flash of movement, his fingers came up to drag her other hand from his neck, jerking it to his crotch to join the hand that still cradled him. In a cruel parody, he pressed both her palms against himself, and eased them up and down. “Persuade me with what, Jonet? With that sinfully wicked mouth of yours?” Cole all but sneered at her. “Oh, yes, your ladyship—! Why don’t you get on your knees and show me just how far you’re willing to go to get your way with me?” The one hand still balanced on her shoulder began to urge her down into the floor.

It was as if his anger were suddenly contagious. Rage spiked through her, hot and quick. “You impudent dog!” she hissed, jerking away and bringing one hand up to strike him.

Cole was lethally quick, snaring her hand in mid-flight like a starved falcon. For a moment, he held it high, a slow, bitter smile curving one side of his mouth and deepening the hard lines of his face. Then roughly, he yanked her full against him. Dragging her hand to his mouth, he turned her inner wrist to his lips, his tongue flicking out to caress the tender flesh of her pulse point.

Jonet moaned, a deep, primitive sound, and Cole’s eyes dropped nearly shut, his sinfully long, dark lashes feathering across his tanned skin as he drew her closer still, his tongue slicking a trail of heat down her inner arm. Jonet was suddenly lost; plunged in a sensation so carnal that nothing else existed but Cole’s tongue sliding down her flesh.

That they were both still dressed and standing in her sitting room made no difference at all. A shaft of pure lust spiked through her, tugging at her breasts, her belly, and her womanhood in a quick, urgent motion. And then, his mouth opened, drawing in the tender skin of her inner arm, and she feared her knees might buckle. He suckled her there for a moment, his long, strong fingers encircling her wrist, his eyes holding hers with a frightening intensity.

The utter arrogance of his gesture escaped her, and when his mouth left her arm, she craved its return. He held her there for a long moment, her breasts now pressed high against him, and Jonet was taken aback to realize that she now stood—quite voluntarily—on her tiptoes and that her other hand was still urgently caressing him.

She still wanted him
. Oh, yes. And with a second blaze of intuition, Jonet realized that Cole’s reaction to her need had little to do with sex or morality. This was not
right
or
wrong
. He was fighting some inner demon she knew nothing about, and inside, he trembled with it. Jonet’s hands slid away, and he let them go.

Before her, his face began to blur in the lamplight, and she found herself fighting against the hot press of tears. What
was
she willing to do to have him? If she did not know, how could he? Perhaps she should humble herself just a little. Slowly, gently, she slid her hands beneath his shirt and skimmed her palms lightly down his belly, feeling it ripple and quicken with sensual awareness.

She was, as he said, too arrogant. But he was not the man who had made her so. And yet, so often these last few days, he had paid the price for it. Cole was simply the man she desired above all else, and perhaps he deserved to know it. When she took him in her hands this time, he sucked in his breath on a gasp. When she shifted her weight to go down onto her knees and take him in her mouth, he exhaled sharply.

Jonet sensed the change in him but a split second before it occurred. She had not a moment in which to respond. With a feral, anguished cry, Cole shoved her away and turned, drawing back his fist and slamming it into the wall behind him. Plaster cracked as her balance faltered, and Jonet barely saved herself from tumbling to the floor.

Cole seemed wholly unaware of her. For a long moment, he simply stood there, saying nothing. Slowly, Jonet drew near, pressing herself against his back and wrapping her arms about his waist. Cole did not move as she settled her cheek against the back of his coat. She had come here, she had convinced herself, to seduce him. But he was now the seducer, drawing her closer, enticing her further, with his pain and pride and need. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Still, he remained motionless. She could sense that there was a deep, hungry darkness in him, which all of his golden beauty and masculine strength could not cloak. The bitterness which was welling up inside him was all too recognizable to Jonet. And there was loneliness, too. It clawed at one’s gut like a living thing.
Ah
,
yes
. She knew all too well what that felt like. Suddenly, Cole turned in her arms to face her, his face bleak. He jerked his head stiffly to the right, his blond hair tumbling down across one eye. “Is that the door to your bedchamber?” he rasped.

Mutely, she nodded, and he slipped his hand into hers, dragging her away from the wall in one smooth motion.

Pulling Jonet by the hand, Cole pushed through the heavy oak door that separated her bedchamber from the sitting room, finding himself in the midst of a large but sparsely furnished room. The decor was surprisingly masculine, the heavy furniture simple in style. A huge, mahogany bed with plain hangings of ivory brocade dominated the room.

For one sickening moment, Cole feared he had dragged her into her late husband’s bedroom by mistake. But there could be no mistaking Jonet’s scent in the air. Impatiently, he pulled Jonet to the edge of the bed and sat down, dragging her awkwardly across his lap.

Slowly, he reached up and slid his fingers deep into the mass of her hair to turn her face into his. Briefly, he studied Jonet, her dark eyes soft and alluring now, all of the rage burnt out of them. It was over, he realized, as he lowered his mouth to capture hers. He felt Jonet tremble with need. Yes, he was going to make love to her; to take what could never be truly his, and thereby ruin his life in the process. A man could not lie with a woman like Jonet just once and ever be whole again. She would take away a part of him.

But Cole’s efforts at resistance had never stood a chance, and perhaps he had not wanted them to. She—fate—or perhaps the devil himself—had won. And now, he wanted Jonet so badly he would have fallen to his knees and begged should she have suddenly changed her mind.

Ah—but she wouldn’t. Jonet was too bold to play games. And so he took what he had been offered. Hungrily, deeply, he kissed her, driving her head backward, one arm lashed tight about her waist. He held nothing in check. What was the point? He could no longer do the right thing, and so he simply did as he pleased. He kissed her and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, almost into her throat, and still she did not hesitate.

As Jonet returned his kisses, matching his heat stroke for stroke, Cole let his other hand drift up to caress the nape of her neck, and then slide lower, to slowly unbutton the back of her dress. She whimpered and pressed herself against him, making Cole keenly aware of what he had vaguely suspected earlier. The black-eyed witch wore not a stitch beneath her black silk dress. No stays bound her ribs; not so much as a chemise covered her breasts.

She had set out to seduce him good and proper, had she not? Cole pushed her slightly away and stared down. A mere two inches from the curve of her neckline, Jonet’s nipples were clearly visible, hard beneath her widow’s weeds. Desperately, Cole continued to struggle with her fastenings, and when he finally lost his patience somewhere near button number six, he simply jerked the fabric down to expose the full, white mounds to his greedy lips.

A little roughly, he drew her right nipple into his mouth and closed his teeth around it. For a long moment he suckled, tormenting her with the tip of his tongue, then biting down until Jonet gasped. Then, reconsidering his haste, he eased her off his lap. “You have nothing on beneath that dress, have you?” he suggested, his tone rich with accusation.

Jonet stepped back a pace, pulling up her sagging bodice in an awkward gesture of embarrassment. “M-my maid undressed me after dinner and went to bed,” she answered uncertainly. “I did not wish to disturb her.”

“Just take it off.” He rasped out the command.

Obediently, Jonet tugged the dress down. One button popped off and flew into the darkness, but one more was all that the job required. Jonet’s hips were so slender, the dress slid to the floor in a heap, and what was left of Cole’s pride soon followed. Lamps burned low on either side of the bed, bathing her naked body in the soft light, and the sight left him completely undone once more.

Jonet stepped out of the dress and lifted her gaze to Cole’s. It appeared that her momentary uncertainty was gone. Now, she seemed entirely comfortable with her nakedness. Perhaps she had undressed just this way on countless occasions for countless men. Cole told himself he didn’t care. Jonet stood before him proudly, the light of a challenge returning to her eyes, and then smoothly, she lifted her arms high and began to pull the pins from her hair.

The motion served to lift her heavy breasts even higher. Cole’s mouth went dry as he watched the weight of them bounce and shift as Jonet drew out one pin after another, dropping them carelessly onto the thick Turkish carpet beneath her feet. And suddenly, that hair—that mass of glorious, bewitchingly black hair—was cascading down her shoulders in shimmering waves of curls that covered her breasts and brushed her hips. Cole could remember how that hair smelled, how it felt brushing low against his belly. A groan slipped from his lips, and fleetingly, Cole feared he might come just looking at her. After an unsteady moment, however, he managed to dredge up a small measure of self-control, and jerked to his feet.

Quickly, he went to her, urgently loosening his cravat with both hands. His skin felt feverish, desperate to rub against Jonet’s, and when her hands came up to help pull away his neckcloth, the temperature leapt up yet another notch. In a matter of seconds, Cole’s coat and waistcoat were strewn across the floor, his shirt quickly following. The close of his breeches still hung open, and it was a simple task to shuck the rest of his clothes and boots.

And then he stood before her, completely naked. It had been a long time since Cole had been so with a woman, and never with a gently bred lady. Rachel had preferred he come to her in a nightshirt, and of course, he had obliged. And yet, he had craved the touch of skin against skin, the scent of feminine arousal, and the faint heat that rose from the human body during the act of lovemaking. But Cole was not a vain man. Under any other set of circumstances, he would doubtless have paused to worry about what Jonet thought of him, but he was well beyond caring now. Instead, he took her in his arms and dragged her high against him, completely off her feet, until her feminine mound was pressed hard and hot against his throbbing cock.

He urged it against her. “Is this what you need, Jonet?” he asked softly, one hand around her waist, the other cradling the swell of her buttocks. “Do you want this inside you? Do you want it now?”

Jonet’s head tipped back and her eyes closed, her inky black lashes fanning low across her cheeks. “
Yes
,” she moaned, bracing her hands wide on his shoulders and arching into him. “
Now!
”

With a little grunt, Cole braced himself, then hefted her up and let his straining cock slide into the sweet valley between her legs. Already she was wet and slick with need. Carefully easing apart her hips, he slid her down, gritted his teeth, and impaled her ever so gently.

Cole felt her hands spasm atop his shoulders, and then Jonet’s nails sunk into his flesh. “
Ah
,
ah
. . .
oh
,
Cole
,
please!
. . .” she moaned, and Cole braced his legs and shoved himself in another half inch. It was all he could do not to drive himself deep on one last stroke, but her position was precarious. And for the world, he would not hurt her.

And then, over Jonet’s shoulder, his eye caught on the huge mahogany bed—its ivory hangings neatly pulled back, the clean, fresh sheets long since turned down—and then he looked at what he was doing to Jonet. Suddenly, it seemed somehow . . .
wrong
. Even a little crude. A man might, in an occasional moment of blind desperation, take a whore that way, particularly in some limiting circumstance. He’d done it himself once, after the horror of a particularly brutal battle, when he’d been half drunk and too dazed to be properly ashamed. But despite Charlie Donaldson’s very fine whisky, Cole was not precisely drunk—or if he had been, the look on Jonet’s face when he’d entered her sitting room had sobered him up. He had known at once what she wanted. And now that he had agreed to give it to her, he ought at least to do the job properly. Jonet did not deserve to be taken standing up, like a common whore, simply because he was angry with himself for being vulnerable.

Cole was only dimly aware that he had ceased to move.

“
Cole
—
?
” Jonet’s question came out on an urgent, breathless whimper. Quickly, he kissed her and lifted her off. Jonet’s protest began before her feet touched the ground, her hands still clutching his shoulders stubbornly. “No,
Cole
—” she pled desperately, her voice thick with need. She gave him a hard shake. “Damn it, you
cannot
do this to me! Not
now
. Not after I begged—”