Checkmate, My Lord (21 page)

Further speech was impossible, for her throat had closed around that simple, inconsequential phrase.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a rough voice. “I hardly know it’s there.”

Fury replaced the ache in her heart. “Well, I know it’s there.” She reached around and freed the sash again. The length of cloth released, and his wrap melted in a pool of emerald silk at his feet.

Her heart hammered in her ears, nearly deafening in its ferocity. He was magnificent. Smooth angles and firm ridges. Taut skin and rippling muscles. Without moving a single inch, he stole her breath.

“Have your look, Catherine.” His blue-gray eyes pulsed with fire. “Because in ten seconds, I’m going to show you why that was a dangerous decision.”

His masculine perfection befuddled her mind so badly that it took her several precious seconds to work through his warning. When she finally did, she dropped to her knees and bent to inspect yet another injury. He stood with most of his weight on his right leg, his left leg cocked to provide a measure of balance but little else.

Similar to his lower back, a large bruise covered the underside of his knee. This one looked so much worse. Rather than a perfect outline of a geometrical shape, the bruise on his leg spread out in all angles like a slow-moving cancer. Her fingers hovered over the area, but she dared not touch. “What type of weapon causes this kind of damage?”

He shrugged. “Some type of cudgel, I suspect.”

She sat back on her heels. “You’re rather nonchalant about your attack.” Her gaze sharpened. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

“Nine. Ten,” he said, ignoring her question. “Time’s up.” The rich timbre of his voice held both promise and foreboding.

As he angled his body around, Catherine’s eyes grew more and more round with every new inch revealed.
Magnificent
. All the adjectives she’d used to describe his body thus far were like defining the Crown Jewels as a set of pretty baubles.

Pretty
did not come close to describing his baubles.

He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

Catherine glanced from his hand to his smoldering eyes to the pulsing length of his erection. And there her attention remained, fixed on the delicate smoothness of his flesh straining to accommodate his building arousal. Engorged veins lined the underside of his staff, leading to a round, velvety tip that pointed toward his navel. From there, she followed a slender line of dark hair down to his thick base, which led back to pulsing veins and straining flesh.

In all her years of marriage to Jeffrey, he had never been so blatant, so confident with his bare form. Catherine’s mouth felt suddenly dry, and that’s when she realized her jaw hung open. She closed her mouth so fast that her teeth clicked together.

He crouched down in front of her, the action causing him to wince. “I am inviting you into my bedchamber, Catherine. Do you accept, or must I persuade you?”

She was certain he could hear her heart pounding. What started out as a seduction to save her daughter was progressing into far more dangerous territory. She could no longer feel the guilt or the shame, only the hunger of her body. “Both?”

Bracing his hand on the floor, he leaned forward, sliding his nose alongside hers. The caress of his breath fanned over her lips, compelling hers to part. His kiss was warm and passion-filled, making her body tingle in glorious places and her heart sing with anticipation.

“Are you persuaded now?” His words were low, seductive.

Unable to open her eyes, she nodded. “Oh, yes.”

“Look at me.”

She blinked her eyes open, surprised by the heavy weight of her lids.

“Do you recall the terms of our
affaire
?”

A sharp ache pierced her chest. “Of course.”

“Then you recall that I will be returning to London in a few days.”

The ache spread to her throat. “You have nothing to worry about, Sebastian. I understand that our time together is ephemeral.”

His eyes hardened for the briefest of seconds, then he blinked and their glowing intensity returned. Catherine accepted his hand, and they strode into his bedchamber, one sporting nothing but the perfection of his bare flesh and the other draped in mournful black linen. The contrast was startling and evocative.

The moment she stepped into his bedchamber, Catherine’s senses sharpened. Candles flickered around the room—candles she didn’t recall seeing moments ago when Parker had let her in. The air was redolent with Sebastian’s special scent.

She gathered in a long breath, savoring the delicate woodsy bouquet. The mix of musk and violet suited him much more than the popular sandalwood or ambergris, known for their bold fragrance.

His thumb smoothed over the backs of her fingers. The tender caress drew her attention to the solid warmth of his hand while he guided her toward his massive curtained bed. Like most things in this house, the earl’s bed bespoke privilege, wealth, and an appalling flair for the vulgar. But in this instance, the ceiling-to-floor sapphire hangings, with their silver embroidered cuffs and their plush folds, compelled rather than repulsed.

He stopped near the side of the bed and cradled her flushed cheeks. Bending close, he kissed her forehead and then skimmed his mouth over hers. “I am going to do unspeakable things to you in that bed, Catherine,” he breathed against her lips. “If you have thoughts of fleeing, now would be the time.”

“The only place I wish to flee is deeper into your arms.”

The pressure on her cheeks tightened infinitesimally, and his nostrils flared around a shuddering breath. “Then come, my sweet.”

At his urging, she carefully curled her arms around his back, sliding her trembling hands up the satiny planes of his shoulders. He was so large. So solid and strong. Yet his hands explored her body with a gossamer touch, with a skill that left her aching for more.

She pressed closer, delighted and aroused by the evidence of his desire. Every inch pulsing against her stomach was for her, for want of her. The realization was exhilarating. Tormenting.

She shouldn’t want him so much. Every act between them was nothing more than a link to a greater betrayal. They both had secrets, underlying motives for igniting their passions. And he would soon be gone.

The knowledge that he would leave her behind, as her father and Jeffrey had done, sent a bolt of realism straight through her heart. That flash of insight was all she needed to start mentally erecting a familiar barrier, one designed to keep her heart intact and her sanity in place.

“Turn around, please,” he whispered.

She swiveled around, and he began working on the fastenings of her gown. All the while, she continued building her protective wall, stone by stone. However, this particular barrier proved more challenging than past ones. The brush of his fingers along her back and the warmth of his lips pressed against her nape distracted her from her task.

Her gown sagged and then billowed to the floor. She evaluated her barrier and groaned. Large clumps of mortar dripped from the seams, and stones sat haphazardly within each row, leaving dangerous gaps. Cool air kissed her burning flesh, and Catherine scrambled to hold up her quivering wall.

His hands skimmed down her arms until he laced their fingers together. “Relax,” he said against her temple.

From his vantage point, she knew he had full view of her nudity, especially when she tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder and arched her arms around until she could clasp her hands behind his neck. With her breasts jutting forward and her bottom snuggled against his rigid length, she felt both vulnerable and luxuriant. His hands caressed their way over her quavering stomach to her swollen, tender breasts. She closed her eyes and tracked his movements with her sense of touch alone.

“Beautiful.” He closed his hand over her aching breast, adding the slightest bit of pressure to her ruched peak. A stab of need sliced through her body, lifting her to her toes.

“So responsive.” He squeezed again, this time harder, compounding the torturous move by ravishing her mouth.

His tongue slid inside with a thoroughness that made her legs squeeze together. She wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. She wanted to experience a man’s need and have him assuage hers. She wanted to feel alive again.

Breaking the kiss, he threw back the covers and climbed into bed. He reclined against the mound of pillows, lifting one knee and holding out his hand in invitation. A shiver raced along her bare flesh, having nothing to do with her state of undress and everything to do with his sultan-like pose. Rippling muscles, smoldering steel-gray eyes, raw desire. The erotic combination stole her breath.

His hand lowered. “Take your hair down for me.”

The breath she had been holding
whooshed
from her body. She wasn’t used to such blatant commands. They made her feel uncertain and shy, beautiful and bold.

Straightening her spine, she lifted her hands to her hair and began pulling out pins. He followed the unfurling of every long lock with such intensity that her attempt to appear seductive and unhurried began to fray.

When she finally located the last pin, she breathed a sigh of relief as she swept her mass of blond hair over one shoulder. “Anything else, my lord?”

His nostrils flared. “A good deal more, I assure you, madam.”

He lifted his hand again, and Catherine noticed it was no steadier than hers. She swallowed back the last of her trepidation and accepted his assistance. Once she had scaled the high bed, Sebastian guided her into position. She nearly balked when she realized he wanted her to mount him. Never had she assumed such a place of power with Jeffrey.

Perceptive as always, he noted her hesitation. “Do you mind?” he asked. “I’m afraid my knee won’t hold up to the traditional way.”

He radiated so much power and strength that Catherine momentarily forgot his injuries. “Not at all. What of your head wound?”

“I will be careful.”

He tugged on her hand, and Catherine followed his summons. With her knees framing his hips and her hands entwined with his uplifted ones, she knelt above him, taking in the surreal image of Sebastian beneath, gazing up at her as if she were his entire world. Power surged through her, and she lowered her starving cleft until it rested on the warm girth of his erection.

Fire shot up her spine and her muscles clenched tightly. Even though he had not penetrated her yet, her body was on the cusp of a mind-shattering release. She rubbed her slick flesh against his hardness, the exquisite friction making them both moan their approval. She increased the pressure and her pace, nearly flying out of her skin every time her sensitive nub connected with his staff.

“Are you through torturing us, madam?” he asked in a desire-clogged voice. Not waiting for her answer, he said, “Kiss me.” Releasing her hands, he let his arms slide around her back, nudging her down.

Their lips met, and Catherine lost herself in their feral kiss. It was wild and exciting and unlike anything she could have imagined. And then she felt him at her entrance, probing, seeking, needing.

She adjusted her position, and he eased inside, filling her with a fullness that made her blood sing and her heart thunder. Bracing her hands on his chest, she had the odd thought of how small they looked against the breadth of him.

He grasped her hips and lifted her high, to the point of nearly releasing him from her channel. Then he encouraged her to sink low once again. On and on it went, their languid pace increasing as the scent of desire flooded their senses.

“Come with me, Cat.”

She closed her eyes and searched inward for the tiny spark that would ignite her release. But it remained stubbornly out of reach. Her legs quivered from her exertion, sweat dampened her brow. “I’m t-trying. Can’t quite—”

“Hold on,” he commanded.

With barely enough time to comply, Catherine clung to his shoulders while her world upended itself and then she was staring up at the sapphire canopy above his bed. “Sebastian, your knee!”

“Forget it,” he said. “Prop those beautiful legs up and meet me halfway.”

Power surged inside her, and Catherine’s hips flexed. She kissed his chest, his neck, his mouth, all the while meeting him with a confidence that surprised her. This is where she belonged, within the cage of his arms, beneath the power of his body. Here, she did not want to be strong, did not want to be in control. At least, not yet.

He hit the spark, and Catherine lifted her hips, pressing closer and closer. No longer pumping a rhythm, only seeking repletion. Greedy in her purpose and not caring a whit.

The spark ignited, sending Catherine into beloved white light.

Their mingled cries of pleasure echoed through the chamber. Within seconds, an unnatural silence settled around them. Their harsh breaths the only indication life existed after such a fierce loving.

All too soon, he peeled his body off hers, kissed his way down to her breast, and then drew her nipple into his mouth. His actions were languid, not meant to arouse, but simply enjoy. When he’d had his fill, he rolled onto his back, bringing her along.

She stiffened in his arms, afraid she would hurt him. “Perhaps it would be best if I did not crowd you.”

“Perhaps,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “But I prefer that you stay right where you are.”

Unwilling to argue about something she wanted anyway, she carefully molded her body around his and rested her head against his chest. She listened to the chaotic beating of his heart until it calmed to a normal rhythm.

And that’s when the first tears gathered. She came here to seduce the earl for a scrap of paper, while her daughter slept beneath a canopy of evil. There was no way to get through this intolerable situation without someone getting hurt, either physically or emotionally.

However, she tried not to fool herself where Sebastian was involved.
Affaires
were commonplace for him. Pleasurable while they lasted, but he likely gave them little thought once they ended.

After his breathing deepened and his hold slackened, Catherine waited a full twenty minutes before easing out of his bed and dressing. She wended her way down the broad staircase, bracing herself for the appearance of a wide-eyed servant. To appease Cochran, she would search the study again tonight and, tomorrow, the library. She pushed the study door open and held her breath. The room was empty. Dark.