Improper Seduction (15 page)

“This is May, head of the house. I will leave you in her care while I attend to making sure Amber Hill is secure. A task I will be happy to see done so that I may focus on welcoming you personally.” Curan’s voice dipped down into that brassy tone that seemed to melt through her resolve to think of their union in only logical ways. When she raised her eyes to meet his, she found a look of satisfaction on his face, but it lacked the arrogance that normally irritated her. Instead she was fascinated and humbled by the sight of a man who looked very happy to be home.

She could discover herself growing affection for this side of his personality. It would be so simple, so very completing …

Bridget realized that he was still staring at her.

“Yes … thank you, my lord.” Her own curtsy was shaky.

“So, you are finally home. I’ll die of your strict nature for certain.”

Curan cleared his throat and glanced up the stairs. Bridget did as well and felt her jaw drop. One of the most beautiful girls she had ever set eyes on stood there. She was slender and petite and everything poets wrote about. Her skin was creamy and fair, her hair a perfect complement in lightest brown that was almost blond. She watched them with honey-brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.

“This ill-spoken girl is my sister Jemma.”

Jemma performed a perfect curtsy, but her lips remained in a smile that made light of her respectful gesture.

“And my dearest brother Curan keeps me secluded here to avoid having my behavior shame the family at court.”

Curan climbed the steps and stood towering over his sister. Bridget marveled at the size difference. Curan caught her staring.

“We have different mothers.”

“I am much younger.” Jemma shot Bridget a smile with her comment. “Which accounts for my brother’s lack of understanding of me. The old rarely comprehend the young.”

“I understand too well the court and what such a pretty face would gain there.”

Jemma waved a hand in the air. “Well yes, and there is that bit of fact. Yet I am not as dim-witted as those other noble girls. Sweet words do not lead me so easily.”

“Gossip is all that is needed to ruin a person at court,” said Curan. “I was glad to turn my back on it.”

Jemma’s smile grew larger. “You mean to say that you were eager to claim your bride.”

Curan shook his head. “Enough out of you, Jemma. We are soaked, and I do not wish my bride to think she has a shrew of a relative to tolerate along with learning to be a wife.”

“Compared to you, I am an angel.”

“A truth if ever I have heard one.” Bridget spoke before
thinking. Jemma’s teasing nature reminded her very much of Marie and what the courtesan had tried to teach her.

Curan lifted an eyebrow at her. “I was hoping you might set a fine example for my sister on the virtue of marrying.”

Jemma scoffed at her brother. “Only if God has managed to create a man who is not boring, and able to gain your agreement to court me. I have abandoned hope of such a coincidence ever happening in my lifetime.”

She reached out and caught Bridget’s hand. “Come out of the rain. My brother seems to have forgotten that you were going to bathe.” She smiled widely once more. “Another trait of the old.”

Curan snorted, but his sister paid him no mind. She tugged on Bridget’s hand and led her away, but Bridget felt his eyes on her. Peeking back over her shoulder, she allowed her eyes to narrow with passion. It took no playacting on her part, for her body truly did desire him. His expression instantly transformed from the stern one he wore so often. Surprise covered his features, but it faded quickly into a mask of dark passion. He’d looked like that last night, she was sure of it. A shiver raced down her spine, touching off ripples of recalled sensation all along her body. She felt it travel over her skin, up and over the mounds of her breasts until her nipples tingled as they recalled exactly how hot his lips were. It did not stop there but slipped lower, across her belly and into the folds of flesh that covered her clitoris. A soft throbbing began there, a hunger that whimpered for satisfaction.

She must deny that urge. Turning her head back around, she focused her thoughts on absorbing the path that Jemma took her on. She would need to memorize how to escape when the moment presented itself. Her flesh wailed against that thought, but her heart also lamented it. She wanted to
stay and learn more about the part of Curan that was happy to be home. In truth, she longed to share that feeling with him.

Yet she must not, for both their sakes. The world was an unforgiving place, full of men who would not give mercy. Her mother was correct; she must not celebrate her wedding because Curan’s honor would not allow him to see the logic in obeying her father’s letter. He was a knight, and in all honesty, part of what softened her heart to him was his unfaltering sense of honor. Without it, he would be weaker. That left the task of protecting him to her.

She would, as much out of duty to her sire as a gift to Curan.

She refused to think too long about why she felt that way. A week ago there was nothing in her head save duty and logic. The reason simply was, she wanted to celebrate her wedding and not because Curan insisted that she do so.

She wanted him. Passionately and with a growing need that threatened to consume the only part of her that was hers alone: her heart. She couldn’t allow him to claim that, couldn’t trust in a future that was riddled with uncertainty. He would discard her if ordered to by the king’s advisors. No knight would refuse his king.

So she would flee over the border to the sanctuary of her cousin Alice.
If
she could escape. There was a part of her that warmed to the challenge. The sounds of Curan’s men filtered into the hallway, confirming that it would be no simple task to slip past them. The only thing that would make it possible was their arrogance. None of them, including their lord, considered her anything but a prize they had claimed. Such pride would be the key to outwitting them, exactly as Marie had said. Stroke their egos and claim what she wanted. Wise advice indeed.

D
ry feet were a blessing, one she had been very neglectful in noticing.

Bridget took several additional swipes at her toes with the toweling because her skin was so wrinkled and swollen from hours in wet shoes that she was feeling water that was no longer there.

“You’re not used to having servants attending you.”

Bridget jumped, grateful she’d slipped a chemise on and laced her stays to keep her breasts from hanging free before working on her feet again. Jemma wasn’t smiling in her playful manner now. The girl was more woman than she had first appeared. Her gaze was keen just like her brother’s, and Bridget felt it sliding down her length. It was very clear that her wits were sharp in spite of the teasing nature she had displayed when her brother arrived.

“My mother raised me to be frugal and mindful of how many tasks there were to be completed every day. Having servants stand about, looking after me, takes hands from those chores.”

“Hmm, perhaps that is the best answer, but I like privacy when I bathe as well. Maybe that is a maidenly need.” Jemma moved farther into the room. “You must tell me if your opinion changes over the next few weeks.”

The girl delivered her question in a smooth tone, but Bridget caught her shy look over the top of the dress she picked up. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes that Bridget understood all too well.

“I will not be assuming my wifely duties this week.”

The dishonesty needed to speak such words almost choked her, but her resolve was firm. The overall good outweighed the small sin of lying.

“That is a surprise.” Jemma sounded suspicious, and a glance at her face showed Bridget a familiar raised eyebrow.

“You look like your brother just now.”

Jemma looked shocked and then she laughed. A soft and low sound of feminine amusement. “Lord, I hope not. He’s an ugly creature, like most men. Poor, pitiful things.”

Now Bridget discovered herself stunned. “Your brother is quite handsome.”

“Is he?” Jemma lifted Bridget’s dress high over her head to help her dress. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Good.”

Curan spoke from the doorway, the sound filling the small bathing room that sat behind the large baking ovens. Heat filled the room from the morning baking in spite of the window shutters being left open.

“On both accounts.” He moved into the room, filling it with his larger size. Jemma laughed again.

“You find it pleasing that I think you are ugly or that I think all men are devoid of attraction?”

Curan actually looked playful as he lifted one hand and fingered his jaw. “Both, dear sister. The idea of you turning your ever-so-delicate nose up in the face of your rather large number of suitors brings me peace.”

His gaze shifted to Bridget, who felt her cheeks heat instantly. Passion flickered in his dark eyes along with pleasure.
There was a part of her that enjoyed knowing that she had pleased him, because he was worthy of that.

“And hearing that my bride finds me handsome is very pleasing indeed. Do be a kind soul and leave us in private, Jemma.”

His sister blew out a long sigh while she gave Bridget’s dress a little tug to set it in place before she turned to her sibling and lowered herself very prettily.

“Excuse me, I am suddenly feeling ill.”

Curan grinned at his sister, and Bridget stared at the way the slightest curving of his lips transformed his face. Her words to his sister had been true—he was quite attractive, this facet of his persona even more than any other she had encountered. Jemma swept from the room with another dramatic sigh.

“What surprises you, Bridget? Do you not think I can be affectionate?”

She worried her lower lip while watching him through her lowered eyelashes. He stared at her, waiting for her to answer, but for once his expression lacked its commanding expectation. Instead, there was an ease about him that led her to think that the gleam in his eye was actually a flirtatious one. A similar need suddenly awakened inside her. The blush deepened on her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t dare accuse you of being unpolished in anything, my lord.” She spoke the respectful title in a husky tone. He pressed his lips into a tight line that turned them white.

“I believe it well that I sent Jemma on her way. I find myself longing for the chance to woo you.” He moved closer, and she felt him closing the space between them as much as she witnessed it. Awareness rippled over her skin. He paused when he was close enough to lift one hand and reach for her. The breath froze in her throat, her lungs suddenly suspended
while she anticipated his touch. When his fingers met her flesh, it was hotter than an August day at noon. She drew in a stiff breath and felt sensation shoot lightning fast down her body. The feeling was almost too sweet to endure, but she refused to move away because it was too delightful. He stroked her cheek, sliding his fingertips along the side of her face that felt as though it were aflame.

“Sweet Bridget, your blush is by far the greatest compliment I have ever received.”

“False flattery is not necessary between us.” Truthfully, she found it difficult to think when he was behaving so charming. The hard expression that he wore when sitting in command made it much simpler to find no reason to disobey her mother.

His fingers moved up into her hair. It was still half wet and hanging loose, just as her dress was. But her stays were tight, and her breasts felt as if they were straining to be free from the stiffly boned undergarment.

As you were last night, when that hand cupped the soft mounds and his lips tasted your nipples …

“Because you are bound to surrender yourself to me?” A hint of arrogance colored his voice again. She lifted her eyelids to stare at him fully.

“Because you believe that is my place.”

He chuckled. The amusement surprised her. His face didn’t become clouded with pride; instead he stepped closer so that she could feel his body heat. The scent of soap clung to his skin, and she realized that his hair was damp like hers. His hand cupped the back of her head, tipping it up while he took the final step left between them.

A soft sigh left her lips when his body touched hers.

“It is your place, Bridget, for so many more reasons than the agreement I made with your father.”

He pressed a hard kiss against her lips, but she enjoyed his strength. It was the shameful truth. Her mouth opened, and she tilted her head before he used his hand to move her. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip before thrusting into her mouth to toy with her own. Sweet delight filled her, burning through the last of the chill that lingered from the freezing journey on the road. She reached for his shoulders, eager to touch him. His lips left hers, wringing a soft cry from her, but it turned into a sigh as he trailed soft kisses down the column of her neck.

Never once had she noticed how sensitive was the skin covering her throat. His lips were hot against it, making her shiver and press her body closer to his. He locked a hard arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Her hands tangled in his half-wet hair, threading through the strands. Every inch of her was alive with new awareness. She felt more, noticed more than ever before. She could smell his skin and knew his scent apart from others. It twisted into her senses, bringing an enjoyment that rose up from some dark corner of her mind. Just as a baby smelled sweet, Curan’s skin brought her enjoyment when she was close enough to smell its scent.

Her blood felt heavy as though she had drunk too much wine, but she did not care. She wasn’t close enough to him. Her hands moved over him, seeking to touch every part of him. She slid one down over his chest, over the hard flesh she craved. Her fingers curled around his erect cock, and his powerful body shuddered. She gasped, stunned by the ferocity burning in his eyes when he lifted his head to lock gazes with her.

She did not abandon her grasp. Confidence surged through her, awakening the need to command him just as completely as he had done to her last night.