One Night of Scandal (29 page)

‘Richard, come and see!’ Deb’s voice floated down the stairs, an edge of pleasure and excitement clearly audible in her voice.

The tight anxiety in Richard’s chest eased and he took the stairs two at a time, reaching the door of the tower room and stopping dead on the threshold.

In the time that he had been away, Deb had managed to light a fire in the grate and it glowed with a heart of warmth. Two candles burned on the wooden table by the door, casting their flickering shadow over a bed piled high with cushions and blankets. There was a faint fragrance of lavender in the air.

‘I found the linen in the Armada chest,’ Deb said, gesturing towards the bed. ‘Everything has been stored properly and is quite dry…’ Her voice faltered and Richard saw the flash of anxiety in her eyes and smiled at her. Even now she could not be coy about why they were there. She would not hide behind pretence or bashful words. He loved her for it. In fact, he could not imagine ever loving her more…

She was standing by one of the long windows and he reached her side in two strides, wrapping his arms about her and pulling her back against him. His chin rested on the top of her head. He could feel the tension in her now, the tiny trembles that racked her body. She turned slightly so that they were looking out to sea, where the moon, three-quarters full and hard as silver, was climbing from beyond the long line of the horizon. For a moment there was no sound but the wash of the waves and the humming of the breeze about the eaves. A ship slipped across the edge of the bay, the moonlight reflecting briefly on its sails.

‘A privateer?’ Deb said. She turned her head and slanted a look up at him. ‘Should you not go and raise the alarm?’

Richard smiled. ‘I should, but I shall not.’

There was a pause. ‘I found the brandy,’ Deb said. She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. Her cheeks were a little flushed. ‘I thought perhaps that it might be a good idea.’

‘We won’t need it,’ Richard said. He looked down at her, scanning her face as though trying to memorise her, feature by feature. There was a silence. After a moment, a tiny hint of frown touched her brow.

‘Richard? Are we going to make love or not?’

He stared down into her face for one long moment more whilst the fierce desire returned like the cut of a whip to rage through his body. Then he smiled at her, his slow, wicked smile. ‘Yes, Deborah,’ he said, ‘we are.’

Deb was terrified. She wished that she had taken several large swigs from the brandy bottle before Richard had come back. She wished that she had ridden away when he had given her the chance. She wished that she had never advertised for a fiancé in the first place, let alone entertained the ridiculous idea of asking Richard Kestrel to teach her about love.

Except that it was too late now. Except that she ached for his touch and wanted him with a desperation that knew no bounds. She always had, ever since she had first met him. The knowledge shocked and excited her in equal measure. There seemed no room for shame, no matter that she knew it was morally wrong. And now she was about to get what she wanted.

Be careful what you wish for…

The words of warning that Mrs Aintree had imparted to her as a child echoed in her head and almost raised a feverish laugh within her, except that Richard was kissing her now and all other sensations died swiftly under the devas
tating power of his touch. His mouth was warm and strong against her lips, caressing her, tantalising her. His hands slid down to clasp her waist and draw her closer against his body, so close that she could feel his hardness pressed against her. Again the shock and the helpless arousal flooded through her, turning her limbs weak with longing. She clutched at his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. Her nipples stiffened and peaked against the relentless pressure of his body and a tingling sensation of delight filled her abdomen.

His tongue curled lazily, sensuously against hers, and Deborah felt as though she was melting in the heat, slivers of white-hot desire licking through her blood.

Richard pressed her back against the wall, using his hips to hold her body still. She could feel how aroused he was and the shock roared through her again, her senses swimming. She felt his fingers once more at the buttons of her riding habit. He was shaking almost as much as she; the buttons slipped between his fingers. The knowledge that she could do this to him sent a heady feminine satisfaction through her and she slid her hand inside his shirt, revelling in the gasp he gave as her hand touched his naked chest.

The fastenings on her gown eased and Deb arched against his hands, obeying an instinct as deep as time. His fingers skimmed her nipple, cupped her breast, and then the bodice of the riding habit fell away, leaving her in her chemise and skirts.

‘You wear no stays…’

Deb opened her eyes. For a moment the candlelight seemed very bright, hurting her eyes. Richard was staring at her as though she was the most exquisite thing that he had ever seen and it was oddly humbling. His hands were resting gently on her bare shoulders amidst the tangle of her
blonde hair, and his eyes were devouring the curves of her breasts where they rose above the edge of her shift.

Deb cleared her throat. ‘I seldom do, and never with a riding habit. I find tight underwear too constricting.’

Richard gave a muffled groan, as though the thought was too much for him. ‘Oh, Deborah—’

His agony shot her though with all the stunning power of a lightning bolt. Suddenly, feverishly, she reached for him, undoing the buttons of his shirt in haphazard fashion, running her hands with glorious triumph over his bare shoulders, pressing her lips to the warm skin of his chest.

Richard’s response was instantaneous. He picked her up and tossed her on the bed, where she lay amidst the tumble of lavender-scented blankets and cushions, slightly winded and wholly aroused. The bed was soft against her back and she sank into its depths, borne down a second later by the weight of Richard’s body against hers. Deb struggled to right herself but was held still; Richard was deliberately kneeling on her skirts, keeping her flat on her back whilst he caressed her breasts through the thin cotton of her bodice, then eased it aside so that she was naked to the waist.

Deb wriggled desperately. His mouth swooped down and took one of her nipples, and she shuddered beneath the hot stroke of his tongue. The air was cool on her exposed skin and his hands and lips roamed at will, tasting and touching. He tangled one hand in her hair and drew her face up so that he could kiss her again, a burning kiss that branded itself on her soul. The friction of his bare chest against her breasts was intolerable pleasure. Deb writhed beneath him, clutching him to her.

Her skirts and petticoats were becoming a problem, tangled as they were about her legs. She thought that Richard would remove them, but when he drew away from her for a moment it was to rip off his own clothing, not hers. His
boots crashed against the leg of the table as he discarded them. The candlelight trembled. Deb half-sat on the bed, her hair sliding over her bare shoulders and down her back, her eyes wide as she took in his nakedness.

‘My goodness…’ The breath trembled in her throat as her gaze travelled over the width of his shoulders, the long line of his back, the narrow waist, the firm curve of his buttocks. In the golden light he looked beautiful. Deb swallowed hard.

‘Richard…’ she said beseechingly.

He gave her no time to be afraid. One moment he was standing before her and the next he was kneeling beside her on the bed again, holding her upper arms as he kissed her with a searing intensity. Deb collapsed back on the cushions, her eyes closing. A moment later they opened wide as she felt Richard’s hand steal up her thigh, pushing her skirts up as he went, parting her legs.

‘Do you not mean to take it off?’ she whispered and felt all the breath knocked from her body as he replied, ‘Not this time.’

Understanding and desire hit her in a headlong wave. He did not intend to remove the rest of her clothing. She was naked to the waist, but below that was the heavy velvet skirt of her habit, the froth of her petticoats, her stockings, her boots…

She dug the heels of her boots into the bed and arched upward as she felt him spread her legs wider. This was beyond anything that she had ever dreamed. The shattering intimacy of it held her spellbound. It was inevitable but natural; she was desperate for him and this was perfect…It was heaven. She wanted him. All of him.

A moment later she felt the hard warmth of him pressing inward, filling her slowly and with such gentleness that she almost cried out. She could feel him shaking and knew the control he was exercising not to allow his desire to override
all else. A fierce hunger took her then and she lifted her hips to draw him in, wrapping her legs about him in a tangle of velvet and lace. The rub of the material was unbearably stimulating against her bare skin. She dug her fingernails into Richard’s shoulders and felt the moment that his control gave way, his need for her overcoming all else. With a shout he held her hips still and drove into her, all control lost as his head came down and his lips ravaged her mouth as thoroughly as his body took hers. Deb’s whole being exploded with a dazzling burst of pleasure. The fire raged through her, drawing her down, tumbling her over, until she lay panting and still amidst the scattered bedclothes, with her mind in splinters and her body still shaking with the glorious disbelief of discovery.

She must have slept briefly, for when she awoke the moon had risen higher and its silver light was spilling into the room and paling the light of the one candle that still burned.

She could feel Richard’s hands moving over her and she shifted slightly, struggling against the drugging satiation that weighted her limbs.

‘Do we have to go back now?’ she murmured, a faint chill touching her heart at the thought.

Richard did not answer for a moment. Something gave—her skirts and petticoats, finally drawn away from her and tossed on the floor. He had already removed her boots and stockings. Now she was as naked as he. She turned towards him and saw that he was watching her with those dark, dark eyes.

‘Do you want to go back?’ he said, and Deb had the oddest feeling that he was asking about more than the journey home.

She looked at him. The chestnut hair tumbled across his
forehead and she raised her hand to caress his cheek where the stubble already darkened his jaw.

‘No,’ she said, a smile curving her lips. ‘I wanted a whole night.’

He put out an arm and drew her into the curve of his shoulder. ‘I hope that nothing I have done has made you change your mind…’

Deb smiled against his chest. ‘No. You were everything that I had hoped for. It is almost a pity that you have given up a career as a rake, for I can see why you were so prodigiously successful.’

‘Thank you,’ Richard said.

‘I was certainly not thinking of England, or of planning my weekly menus,’ Deb confessed.

‘Menu planning?’ Richard’s voice sounded lazy, faintly amused. ‘I should hope not.’

‘When Mama advised Olivia on the duties of a wife, she said that planning one’s weekly menus was an excellent way to get one through the ordeal of a gentleman’s ardour,’ Deb said. ‘It distracts the mind and at the end of it one also has a useful list.’

‘That must be where Olivia and Ross have gone wrong, then,’ Richard said easily. ‘I knew there must be a simple explanation.’ He pressed a kiss against her hair. ‘Alas that your menus for the week must go unplanned, my sweet.’

Deb snuggled closer. It was warm in the nest of blankets and she felt cosy and cherished and very happy. When Richard started to stroke her breast very gently she also felt surprised. She had thought her body completely satisfied, and yet now the blood was singing softly through her veins again and she felt as though she was opening like a flower in the sunshine.

‘Richard…’ she whispered.

In reply, he shifted slightly so that her body was more
exposed to the touch of his lips and hands, alternately stroking and soothing, arousing and calming. She burned wherever he touched her and tingled beneath him, knowing that he watched her every reaction. She was melting again, yearning for him and the sweetest, sharpest pleasure that he could give her.

‘You wanted a whole night,’ he whispered in reply. ‘Be careful what you wish for…’

His hands stroked the soft skin inside her thighs and then he slid down her body and his tongue touched the secret hidden spot at the centre of her being. Heat lanced through Deb and she jolted with the shock of it. Such devastating pleasure…She had had no idea…

‘Would you like me to do that again?’ They might have been at a garden party were it not for the hard, hot undertone of desire in his voice.

Deb twisted on the blankets, her hands bunching tightly in the material. ‘Please…’

She had never known such intensity of feeling, never even guessed at such sensations. Once again her body was convulsed with the purest bliss and she lay shaking and devastated in his arms.

He did not let her rest. His fingers drifted back between her thighs and resumed a slow and tortuous stroking. Her body was tight and she wriggled in protest against the renewed touch but he persisted, giving her no choice but to accept his caress. To Deb’s amazement, her body quickened again, her blood beating feverishly as the heat pooled within her. She gave a little gasp of need and Richard’s mouth covered hers, drinking deep. He was above her and inside her again, and Deb reached for him and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his back and down over his buttocks. She felt the shudder that went through him whenever she touched him and it made her feel triumphant. This time was
slow and the sensation of possessing and being possessed filled her senses and overwhelmed her beyond thought. Richard dipped his head to her breasts and the hot pleasure stirred through her once again and she tangled her fingers in his hair to hold his head there, feeling a spasm jerk through her each time he used his teeth against her skin.

She was drowning. The faint ebb and flow of the tide outside mingled in her head with the flow of her body until she could bear it no longer. She felt Richard bite down gently on her breast and she cried aloud as she tumbled over the edge of mindless delight, feeling him fall with her into the darkness where sheer ecstasy and sheer exhaustion held her captive and dropped her into the deepest sleep.