One Night of Surrender: The Brothers Mortmain, Book 1 (2 page)

BOOK: One Night of Surrender: The Brothers Mortmain, Book 1
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“Look at me,” he said.

Katherine kept her head down, pretending not to hear.

“Look at me!” he commanded.

This time she jumped. She was here at his behest, she reminded herself. She had no choice but to obey. She
must
obey. Carefully, feeling a little wobbly from lack of food and the whole bizarre situation, Katherine looked up.

“That’s better,” he said.

Her dizziness increased. He was such a handsome man with his dark hair shining in the candlelight and his dark eyes with their long lashes, and now she could see he had a dimple in his chin. Suddenly, shockingly, she wanted to kiss it. The idea made her catch her breath on a gasp.

He reached out and tipped up her chin with his forefinger. Warm tremors ran through her, and with them the dizzying sensation of losing control. The next moment he had placed a small piece of meat against her lips, and automatically she opened her mouth to receive it.

Succulent. Perfectly cooked. It was so delicious she swayed, closing her eyes, and the next moment his arms were about her, enclosing her, steadying her. Just for a moment she felt so perfectly safe she didn’t want to move. Indeed she wanted to lean in closer to him, nestle against his chest and the soft white shirt that gaped so invitingly open. She wanted to press her lips to the hollow of his throat.

But her unfamiliar feelings lasted only a moment before fright took over and she began to struggle.

“Hush!” She immediately stilled again, her breath coming quickly, her heart beating in her throat like a frightened bird.

His fingers stroked the back of her neck and then withdrew in surprise.

“You are all wet!” he said, and whipped off her cap. Her fair hair, darkened by water, tumbled down about her. He was frowning now, lifting the clumped tresses, sifting them through his fingers.

“They bathed me,” she explained, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “They wanted me to be clean for—for…”

“Come closer to the fire, Katherine.”

His hand closed over hers, drawing her toward the warm flames, and she went willingly. The warmth was blissful and she sank down on the thick rug spread before the hearth and gave in to the desire to hold out her hands.

He left her for a moment, then reappeared with a plate loaded with more of the succulent array of foods from the table, and set it beside her. Then he sprawled on the rug next to her, arranging his long legs, and scrutinized her as one would something from a curiosity shop.

He seemed to be in no hurry to fulfil his last wish. Gradually she began to feel more at ease, the warmth seeping into her, her body relaxing. She kicked off her ugly clogs with a sigh of relief, and set her feet before the hearth. He nodded toward the platter. There were meats, roasted or baked in tasty pastry squares, and cheeses and pieces of crusty bread. And there was an orange, round and succulent. It had been years since she had eaten an orange.

Gervais peeled it for her and handed her the first luscious piece. She bit into it and groaned with pleasure, the juice running down her chin. He smiled and continued, piece by piece, until it was all gone. Katherine couldn’t remember having anything so delicious, the taste of it sweet on her tongue, like ambrosia trickling down her throat.

In the silence that stretched between them, Katherine began to feel less apprehensive. Of course she knew that tonight Gervais Hawley would have her in any way he wished, and she had agreed to it. Of course she knew that. But as yet he had barely touched her, and he had been kind. Perhaps he would leave her be until the morning, and she would escape at cock crow without having to fulfil her promise.

Slyly, she glanced up at him through her pale lashes, trying in vain to read his expression, to understand how this man felt and thought. With Edward it had been important to learn his every twitch or smirk and what it might mean for her, but this man…he was an unread book.

Now he caught her look and chuckled.

“Feeling better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“Then perhaps it is time to begin.”

“Begin?” she whispered, blue eyes wide. He could not mean what she thought he meant. Could he?

As if to divert her fretful thoughts, he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers against her long hair. “Your hair is curling now that it is dry,” he said. He drew forth a lock, stretched it to its fullest extent, and then let it tumble softly against her breast.

Katherine didn’t move, could hardly breathe, as he played with her hair. He smoothed it into a bunch at her nape and then let it fall free again. He lifted it to his face and nuzzled into it, his eyes closed. “Like finest silk,” he murmured, and smiled. “Do you know every woman has her own scent? One that is hers alone?”

Katherine shook her head uncertainly. “And what is mine, sir?” she asked, then wondered if she should have stayed silent. What if it was something nasty?

He thought a moment, idly running his fingers through the threads of her hair. “You have an exotic scent, Katherine. You may look like a cool English rose but I think you have the fire of exotic lands in your blood.”

“I am the daughter of a teacher and a scholar,” Katherine retorted. “The only thing exotic about me is the stories I read.”

Gervais raised his brows. “What stories are they? Surely nothing that isn’t perfectly respectable?”

Katherine knew he was laughing at her. As if he knew. But how could he? “Of course,” she said, and forced herself to meet his gaze directly, daring him to call her a liar.

Instead he reached out to trace the flesh above the neckline of her gown with a long forefinger. “Of course,” he echoed. He caressed her skin as if it were a delicate wonder to him, and the more he touched the warmer she became. A tremble began in her lips and then her throat, and then spread down to her breasts. She felt them tighten, a little ache of sensation, before the tremble went lower still, to the place between her legs where Edward had forced himself inside her. Always in the darkness, as if he were ashamed of his own needs. Wrenching up her nightdress so that he could fumble his way to snorting, gasping ecstasy.

But this was different, very different. Gervais was moulding the shape of her breasts with his hands, feeling the weight of her, his thumbs finding the hard nubs her nipples had become through the worn cloth. Her breath was ragged. She could hear it in the silent room and tried to calm herself, but the more she tried the more ragged it became.

“Sir,” she tried, “I…”

“Hush.” There it was again, that gentle word. And yet he turned it into a command. Or a promise.

He leaned toward her and his mouth was so close to hers that she felt the warmth of his breath upon her lips, and then his lips touched hers, gently, but with practised expertise. His tongue tasted her bottom lip, darted inside her mouth, and she felt herself opening before him. Helpless and yet eager, too, to experience what he had to give.

“Exotic indeed,” he murmured. “You taste of the sun, Katherine. Kissing you is like escaping to fantastic places.”

His words were soft and mesmerising, and Katherine made a soft sound, more of a moan than a whimper. The heat of the fire and now the heat of his body were enclosing her. His mouth grew more determined in its exploration and she felt his tongue claim hers, stroking it, as if to perform some strange mating dance.

This was unlike any kiss she’d ever experienced, and the sensations it created in her mind and body were also beyond her understanding. Her breasts ached, and as if he knew it he reached again to place his open hand over first one and then the other. Beneath the borrowed worn-out clothes was nothing but her bare skin, and she knew he was as aware of the weight and softness of her flesh as she was of his warm hand.

By now her nipple was so hard it was almost painful, and it butted against his palm as if to demand his attention. He smiled at her, a knowing smile, as if he was secretly pleased by her reaction, before bending his head to nip and kiss at her throat, which she obligingly arched to give him better access.

Katherine already knew she wasn’t going to stop him. His touch, his kisses, had begun a fire and she wanted to let it burn. She was on a voyage of discovery just as she was whenever she opened a new book and began to read.
 

But this wasn’t like any book she’d ever read before, not even the handbill with the crude naked images someone had left behind in one of the bedchambers at the inn. Women astride men, women wide-eyed as men drove into them. And everyone looking as if they were enjoying themselves immensely.

But how could that be? Katherine had asked herself, her hands trembling as she’d carried the crumpled papers to the window to see them better. Were such things really this pleasurable? In her experience the sexual act was something to be endured, not enjoyed.

And then Edward had come looking for her, snatched the handbill from her and she’d never seen it again. That night he’d come to her bed, pawing her, breathing hard as he thrust into her again and again. She’d born it with gritted teeth, telling herself this proved that the little book was a lie. A fairytale. A fantasy. What woman would look so when a man took her body with his?

But now Katherine knew her own face looked like the women in the pamphlet. Passionate, wondrous, full of bliss.

Because what Gervais Hawley was doing to her
was
bliss.

Yes, Katherine was on the road to self-discovery and she had no desire to turn back.

Chapter Three

Gervais stroked the pearly flesh of her throat, drawing his finger down so that he could dip beneath the frayed neckline of her gown. He could see she was already enthralled by his skills. Although, he admitted wryly, he hadn’t used many of them yet.

He’d had it in his mind that he would tempt Katherine into his power with the promise of setting her free. Once he had her then he’d punish her for her lover’s underhanded actions. Edward Prime was the cause of Gervais’s downfall. Why shouldn’t Katherine pay for Edward’s treachery just as she was already paying for his debts?

But she’d looked like such a frightened little mouse when she came into his cell that he’d abandoned all thoughts of such a brutal revenge. He’d almost abandoned the thought of tupping her. Why not leave her be and wait out the night in separate chairs? Then he could be the sort of man he’d always aspired to be. Honest, upright, worthy. Decent.

Yes, he’d be all of those things and more. He would save the wench and go to his death like a hero.

But Gervais Hawley was no hero. Katherine was a beautiful woman and when she’d stood there in the doorway, staring at him as if she were a maiden in a fairytale, waiting for her prince to awaken her, he’d known he would have her once, twice, many times before cock crow. And she’d wanted him too, even if she didn’t realise it. He’d seen her desire in the tremble of her mouth, and the beat of the pulse in her throat, even the way her thick dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was a woman made for the carnal pleasures.

Lust had fired its arrow at him and the decent man fled.

Separate chairs be damned!
he’d thought. He would have her this night, his last night before the devil took him to Hell. And wasn’t that a better revenge than punishing the woman for her man’s sins? Edward Prime had kept his Katherine out of sight, hiding her away like a fabulous jewel for his own delectation. How he would have hated the thought of Gervais handling that jewel, tasting it, taking it again and again.

Gervais smiled. “Shall we rid you of this abomination?” he asked. His fingers hooked into the thin cloth of her dress, testing it. He felt her body tense, just before he gave a savage tug.

The cloth rent, all the way down to her waist. Her body was pink and white in the firelight, perfect to his eyes. He—the rake—found himself dazed by the sight of her.

“Oh!” She tried to cover herself with her hands. He caught her wrists, lifting her hands up and away, baring her again to his greedy gaze.

“Peerless,” he whispered.

Her breasts had lifted with her arms and, though in proportion to her small frame, they looked swollen and heavy with growing desire. Her nipples were pointing toward him, and his mouth watered to taste their sweetness. His dark gaze ran up to hers, noting her pupils growing larger. With fear? He didn’t think so. His Katherine had the look of a woman who was ready and willing for the delights of the flesh.

Gervais had wanted to see her naked the moment he first saw her. Not, as she no doubt thought, in the court of the Old Bailey. He’d first seen her in Edward Prime’s inn, through a gap in the parlour door. She had been arranging flowers in a bowl on a polished table and her beautiful face had been entranced with the task—lips slightly parted, pale lashes long on her lowered lids. He’d wanted her then, with a heat and craving he’d never felt before. The sight of her had gone straight to his cock, and if there had been a small longing ache in his chest—where his heart was meant to be—then he ignored it.

He’d wanted her. He’d thought about her for days afterwards.

So when he saw her again in this grim place, well…surely it was the fates giving him
permission
to have her? And if it made Edward Prime writhe in fury beneath whatever rock he was hiding under, then so much the better.

“Enough thinking,” he muttered, and reached for her.

BOOK: One Night of Surrender: The Brothers Mortmain, Book 1
3.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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