Lady Hawk's Folly (6 page)

“Later.”

She looked up then, and there could be no mistaking the desire in his eyes. Whatever he may or may not have felt for her four years before, he wanted her now, and that wanting set vibrations throbbing between them that were nearly tactile. Hawk grasped her other shoulder, and then, roughly, he pulled her to him, his lips crushing hers as he gave full rein to his rapidly increasing passions. Mollie gave a low moan and strained toward him, reaching to entwine her arms around his waist.

At the sound Hawk relaxed his grip and lifted his head, drawing in a steadying breath. “Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured, “forgive me. I am a hasty brute.”

Looking up at him, her fingers clutching at his firm, muscular waist, Mollie protested. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, don’t stop now.”

Hawk’s eyes began to twinkle, and he scooped her into his arms. “I won’t stop, Mollie, but I never intended this to be a rape, and if I don’t exert a bit of control, that’s exactly what it will be. Come to bed first, sweetheart.”

He carried her over to the massive four-poster bed, with its huge carved tester, and sat down, still holding her gently in his arms. This time when his lips touched hers, there was a gentleness, a tenderness that hadn’t been there before, but his kiss stirred her just as much as it had before. And when the pressure increased, when she felt the tip of his tongue against her lips, Mollie responded without hesitation, parting her soft lips and letting her tongue dart to meet his, teasing him, knowing instinctively that her actions were stirring his passions to greater heights than ever.

As he proceeded to undress her, fumblingly at first and then more easily when she helped him, she found herself delighting in the control he tried to exert over himself. Mischievously, she had an urge to see if she could make him abandon that control. As soon as her chemise drifted to the floor, leaving her naked in his arms, she moved her hands caressingly across his chest to the lacings of his shirt.

“’Tis not fair that I be so vulnerable to your touch, my lord,” she whispered.

“Go slowly, Mollie,” he warned. “We’ve the entire night before us.”

“Have we, indeed, sir? I saw you yawning with the others.” She slipped her hand inside his shirt, enjoying the feel of the soft, springy hair of his broad chest against the sensitive skin of her palm.

She heard him catch his breath as her fingers encountered one rising nipple. So, she thought, she could excite him with her touch just as easily as he excited her with his. She smiled at him. But to her astonishment he pulled her hand away and dumped her off his lap onto the bed.

“’Tis not sleep that will overcome me, sweetheart, if you intend to play that game,” he said with a chuckle, standing to shed his clothes. “You’ve changed, Mollie.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was suddenly extremely conscious of her own nakedness, and though she was fascinated, she didn’t want to stare at him while he undressed, so she scrambled under the thick, eiderdown quilt before she answered him.

“I haven’t changed, sir. I have merely grown up a little, I think. I have thought often about you, you see, so…” She faltered, not really certain she wanted to continue, to tell him of her fantasies in the long, lonely nights since he had gone. But he seemed to understand. The look in his eyes was a warm one when he joined her beneath the quilt, gathering her once more into his arms.

“I know, sweetheart. I thought of you, too. But my memory played me false. I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. Or perhaps you have grown more beautiful in my absence. And I’d swear your skin is softer, your hair more silky. The air of Kent seems to have agreed with you, Mollie.”

He had been caressing her while he talked, and Mollie found herself incapable now of coherent speech. His hands roamed everywhere, and her body responded instantly to his lightest touch. Then his lips followed where his fingers and hands had gone before, while his hands began to guide hers, urging her to explore his body to her heart’s content.

Only once, just before he reclaimed her as his own, did it occur to Mollie to wonder why she had allowed herself to submit to him so easily. But then he was inside her, and it didn’t matter anymore. She lifted her body to welcome him, finding that the initial awkwardness in their rhythm soon faded, letting them move in harmony until the world seemed to explode within her. She was conscious then of a small sense of irritation when he did not stop. Instead, he moved faster and faster until she thought she could tolerate no more. But then the feeling inside altered again, and she didn’t want him to stop. She felt herself climbing higher and higher. He made a sound deep in his throat, halfway between a moan and a groan, and then it was over. The tension drained from his body, and he collapsed on top of her.

“Oh, Mollie,” he said softly.

Mollie sighed. But when he rolled off her and plumped the pillows up behind himself, she smiled at him. And when he seemed to draw pleasure from looking at her slim body, rosy now from exertion, she made no move to draw the quilt up again. Hawk pulled her into his arms, and she nestled there, content. Perhaps his return would not make difficulties, after all. She certainly had not expected their first private interview to be like this.

The thought brought a niggle of doubt with it, however. Perhaps he had merely wanted to assuage his lust before getting down to more serious matters. To be sure, it had not seemed that way at the time, but how could she possibly trust her own judgment when she had so clearly let her passions run away with her good sense. Was it possible that she had submitted without the briefest of protests in order merely to please him, hoping that her submissive attitude would mitigate his displeasure later? She stiffened slightly. Surely not. Surely she was not such a coward as that.

Hawk looked down at her, his brow furrowing a little when he saw her expression. He reached down with his free hand and pulled the quilt up, covering them to the waist. Then he gave her a little hug.

“Why the frown, Mollie? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I was careful.”

She looked up from under her thick, dusky lashes, touched by his concern. “No,” she said, low, “you didn’t hurt me. I liked the things you made me feel.”

“Did you? You didn’t like them four years ago.”

“That’s not quite true,” she said slowly. “I think perhaps I was a little afraid of the feelings then. I was so young and I didn’t know what to expect, you see.”

“But you know now?” His voice had hardened noticeably, and she swallowed carefully before answering him, knowing that she walked a thin line.

“I believe I know what you are thinking, sir, and that is not what I meant at all. ’Tis only that I am a deal older now, and I have learned much more about the ways of the world. Then, too, you had magic in your hands tonight,” she added, smiling. “I felt no fear, only desire.”

His fingers played lightly along her forearm, and she could feel him relax beside her, but she could not let the subject drop entirely. Not without discovering what things he had been told and what he meant to do about them. Not for a moment could she make herself believe he had heard nothing. The silence lengthened until she could stand it no longer.

“Sir?”

“I have a name, sweetheart.”

“I know you do, but ’tis so long since I last used it that it sits strangely upon my tongue.”

“You haven’t referred to me by name in four years?” He was indignant.

She grinned at him, enjoying this interlude, hoping his mood would not alter too drastically after she had said all she had to say. “I called you Hawk,” she told him, “like your father did, and like Ramsay and Harry. Only Lady Bridget calls you by your Christian name, and she does not do so except when you are with her. She is more likely to call you Hawkstone, you know.”

“Well, I should like to hear you say my name, but I shan’t press you. And I didn’t mean to turn the subject. I feel certain you’ve a number of things you’d like to discuss with me.”

Mollie swallowed again, this time with more difficulty. What had he meant by that? Did he expect her to enumerate each incident and beg his forgiveness for each slip, each step she had taken beyond the line of propriety. She’d be damned if she would!

She glanced up at him. He was staring straight ahead, waiting. His lips were pressed tightly together, as though it was only by exerting an effort that he was able to let her have her say first.

“It was not so bad as all that, Gavin,” she found herself saying defensively.

He looked down at her, his expression making it clear that her words were not the ones he had expected to hear.

“What was not so bad?” He seemed to choose his own words carefully.

“Whatever it is you think I have done. Whatever it is they wrote you about.” She went on in a rush before he could reply, “I know I should not have done some of the things I did, but truly they were not so dreadful; and while it is not the fairest thing in the world that Lady Margaret Hazeldell or the Marchioness of Hawkstone can get away with things that would be condemned out of hand in a Miss Nobody, still that is the way of the world, and I see no reason not to take advantage of the fact when the alternative means living like a recluse.”

“What things?”

The words brought her up short. “Why, whatever Lady Andrew and the others wrote you,” she said more hesitantly, confused by the fact that he seemed not to know what she was talking about. “I know they must have written, for they were forever reading me lectures and saying it was their duty to inform you, but please, sir, I am quite certain they exaggerated everything out of…of…”

“Out of spite,” he finished for her. “Good Lord, Mollie, you don’t think I believed that fustian. I don’t give a tinker’s damn for anything Aunt Trixie or the others might tell me. I know you better than that. When I said you’d changed, I didn’t mean anything like that, just that you seemed more relaxed, more sure of yourself. You’re still the same serene, ladylike wife I left behind. Certainly, too much a lady to risk cuckolding your husband before the succession is secured.”

Her eyes flashed at the implication in his words, but she knew well that he still had little notion of how much truth there had been in some of the things his aunts had written.

“Of course I would never do such a thing,” she said finally, through gritted teeth, “but…but there were things that were not quite…well, that went beyond the line of being pleasing.”

“Pleasing to whom? My aunts?” He shook his head when she opened her mouth to explain. “Never mind. Perhaps there were things you are not proud of, Mollie, but I have no intention of cross-questioning or laying blame. My behavior these past years has not been entirely unexceptionable, either. I confess, I had thought you meant to make that the subject of this conversation.” The smile in his eyes was a rueful one.

“You thought I meant to take
you
to task over
your
behavior?”

“Is it so odd that I might believe you would be angry?”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “I was angry when you left. And hurt, too. I thought I’d been nothing more than a challenge to you, that once you’d got me riveted, you simply went on to the next challenge, that you didn’t care a pig’s whisper about me.”

He sighed. “I was a pretty frippery fellow, sweetheart, but not quite so frippery as that.”

“Then, why?”

“Why did I go?” She nodded. “Many reasons. I was too young to know better. I wanted to get out from under my father’s thumb. The excitement of military life called to me. And there were other things.”

“With me?”

“With you.” He looked down at her. “Did you ever know my mother?”

“No, but I’ve heard a deal about her from your father and from Ramsay. She was ill a great deal, and I think your father had a rather poor opinion of her. Ramsay seems to have had a fondness for her, but he loves Lady Bridget more.”

Hawk grimaced. “She suffered a great deal with my father. I was afraid I might be like him.” Shaking his head, he pulled her closer to him. “There is too much here to try to explain all at once, but I know now that I am no reflection of Thurston Colporter. That part of the fear is gone. There are still shadows of other fears, but one at least seems to have had little foundation in fact.”

“What’s that?”

“That you would still be so angry that you wouldn’t even talk to me. I think that is a large part of why I have put off coming home for so long. I made every campaign, every least reason, an excuse for delay. I’m sorry now that I didn’t have the courage to face you before now.”

“Why did you come now, my lord?” she asked, trying to digest the things he was telling her. A fearful Hawk was the last thing she had expected. It put a different light on things. He still hadn’t answered her, and she had the feeling that he didn’t want to answer her. She lifted an eyebrow, questioning his reticence.

“I was ordered home,” he said at last, reluctantly. “Wellington said it was time I attended to my duties and quit playing soldier with the other lads. He said I ought to have come home when Father died, and he is right. But the guilt just grew and grew, Mollie. I was ashamed of myself for giving in to fears that now seem like the most childish of motivations. Can you understand? Does what I’m saying make the least bit of sense to you?”

His gaze was penetrating, and she knew her answer was important to him. It gave her a sense of power she hadn’t felt with him before. Hawk was vulnerable. But she had no wish to take advantage of the fact. She smiled softly. “I don’t know that I understand it fully,” she said, “but I’ll try.”

He bent to kiss her. “We’ll both try, sweetheart. I think perhaps we have a chance to make something of this marriage of ours, don’t you?”

W
HEN MOLLIE AWOKE THE
next morning, she was alone in the huge bed. The curtains had been opened and a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace. Sunshine streamed in through the two tall, narrow windows, laying golden rivers of light across the dark Turkey carpet covering the cold stone floor. Stretching lazily, she wondered where Hawk had gone.

Ordinarily, Cathe brought Mollie her morning chocolate at half-past seven. Surely, she thought, it was later than that by now! She glanced around the room, looking for a clock. There was none. Well, no matter, she decided. She wanted her breakfast, and she wanted her clothes. The ones she had taken off the night before were no longer lying on the floor where she had left them. Unless she wished to wear one of Hawk’s shirts, she would have to ring for someone. The bellcord hung beside the bed. After a pause during which she wondered who would respond to her ring, she tugged firmly on the cord. Then, just in case, she pulled the eiderdown up to her chin.