Price of Desire (23 page)

Could a middle-aged woman still flounce
?
Rose had always believed that was reserved for the very young, but that was the only way to describe Lady Clarington’s departure.

“It truly is duty that keeps me
.
That governs.”

The simple statement seemed to cause him great aggravation
.
He looked ready to jump out of his skin
.
It made no sense
.
Was he afraid she’d pursue him, seek to lure him to her bed
?
Surely he realized that another frenzied coupling was a mistake for both of them
.
She tore her eyes away from the well-muscled shoulder outlined by his tight evening coat.

“I never doubted it
.
But, now, if you will forgive me, I must tend to my invited guests
.
I saw you speaking to Mr. Giddens earlier
.
I have not yet had the chance to further my acquaintance with him.”

She had to get away
.
Every second in his presence ate away at her resolve to be sensible
.
She was an intelligent woman
.
She would not be governed by the flames of lust that sprang up whenever their gazes met.

She was a woman in control.

She turned and fled.

He let her get away
.
He had planned it differently, approaching with the full intention of taking her by the arm and leading her out to the terrace
.
Once they were alone he had planned to sweep her into his arms, kiss her into submission
–
and make his offer
.

Instead he had been forced to fence with Lady Clarington, and then, just when he’d succeeded in removing her from the scene, his prey had fled.

It should not be so difficult
.
The hard part of a marriage proposal should be making the decision, not cornering the lady.

Lady.

What was he doing making an offer to a lady
?
He’d sworn never to marry before letting himself be trapped in this web.

But he was, trapped.

He had no choice
.
Either he married her, or he gave his daughter away
.
That was unthinkable.

He would just have to plan his attack differently
.

Maybe he would knock on her door again, join her in her chamber
.
Then he could follow his strategy – kiss her, cloud her judgment, and propose.

He’d outmaneuver her and leave her little choice
.
If he was trapped, he’d make sure that she was, too.

He turned and stalked from the room
.
If it turned out to be more than kisses – well, that could only work to his advantage.
 

Chapter
Eight

Rose paced back and forth in her room
.
Her skin prickled, too hot for her body, and she doubted the cause was the unexpectedly warm spring night
.

It was him
.
It was all his fault
.
If he hadn’t knocked on her door last night, made those unreasonable demands about Anna, forced her to confront her own desires, she wouldn’t be like this
.
She’d be asleep.

She needed something to occupy her mind
.
That was it
.
Sh
e needed a task, something simple to distract her.

She’d promised Anna she’d find John’s maps so they could look at the sea monsters together and remember the happy times
.
Maybe, by reminding her daughter of the closeness she’d shared with John, Rose could remind her that having a father could be a wonderful thing
.

She needed to restore Anna’s complete faith in her
.
It bit deep that Anna thought she hadn’t always been there when needed
.
Somehow she had to show Anna that her mother would always be there
.
Keeping a promise was a good way to start.

Only
–
the maps were in John’s downstairs chamber
.
The room Wulf now occupied
.
If she snuck down and gathered them he’d never know
.
She wouldn’t risk the main hallway
.
Her glance darted to her dressing room and the servant’s stair to his room below, a stair she’d used too often in those last days before John’s death
.

She swallowed, her fists knotting the thin fabric of her gown.

She should wait until morning and collect them then
.
Once he’d left she could just let herself in and grab them
.
That was what she should do.

Only
–
the day promised to be full and her sole chance to spend time with Anna might be early, before the house had fully awoken
.
She’d go now and hope he was off playing billiards or drinking port.

With great resolve she marched to the stair and started down
.
She would just take the maps and leave
.
She’d not allow an opening for any further . . . mischief.

She paused at the bottom and pressed her ear against the door listening
.
Only silence
.
She turned the latch and crept through.

She had the briefest glimpse of white linen and black robe, before she was yanked forward against his rock hard chest.

She grabbed his hair and pulled his face down
.
He held back
.
She pulled harder
.
His hard lips met hers in a consuming kiss
.
He tasted of whiskey, sharp and tangy
.

Devouring.

Ravishing.

Uncompromising.

She wasn’t sure who did what to whom, but the result was explosive
.
She sucked hard at his tongue, drawing it into her mouth, as his lips ground against her, bruising her with endless pleasure
.

Maybe now she could find whatever had been missing the previous evening, gain that intangible satisfaction she dreamed of for years.

They were locked together in passion, but she wanted more
.
Her hands pushed his robe aside, ducked under soft linen, seeking the silk of his chest
.
The sparse smattering of curls delighted her senses, and pulling away from his kiss she buried her face in his uncovered flesh
.

The sheer solidity of him surrounded her, increased her sense of vulnerability, of femininity
.
His arms came around her, pressing her tight against him,
until
it was hard to breath
e
.
The heat from his body filled her, burned her
.
She bit softly at a tangle of curls, letting her teeth rasp against his tender skin.

He drew a heavy breath, then setting his hands beneath her hips lifted her, until their mouths met again
.
She wrapped her legs about his thighs, opening her most intimate places to his hardness
.
He devoured her, filled her, completed her
.
How could so much satisfaction come from a kiss?

Her mind spun as she felt herself lifted and carried towards the bed
.
It was hard to think of anything besides the fire of his kiss, the burn of his chest against her breasts, the firm bulge caught between her thighs sending ripples of pleasure through her.

She fell onto the bed, her legs still caught around him as he stood at the edge of the bed
.
She expected him to move her over, to lie down beside her, her body already mourned that brief break in contact.

Instead he stood looking down at her, his gaze searing her with fire
.
He pulled down her bodice, freeing her breasts
.
The first shock of cool air caused a shiver to run through her as her nipples peaked under the onslaught of his eyes
.
He hadn’t even touched her and her breast swelled and yearned
.
She moaned, needing his touch, his mouth
.
She stirred and shifted, attempting to thrust herself against him
.
Why didn’t he move
?
She needed him now.

Then his hands prowled, not over her breasts as she expected, but up her legs, past quiver
ing calves and thighs to . . . s
he just about jumped from the bed at his first touch
.
The intensity of the feeling driving all other thought from her mind.

“God, you’re so soft and ready
.
So made for me.
”
He sighed the words as his fingers moved again, delving probing, sending her on the rode to heaven.

Then he was in her.

She hadn’t known such a thing was possible, that he could still be standing when . . . it was so good, such unimaginable pleasure
.

Then his hands found her breasts, raising the stakes yet again
.
His eyes never left hers as he began to move, so slowly, so dreadfully slowly.

She tried to push herself against him, to quicken the pace, but he caught her hips in his hands and held them still, pressing her into the mattress.

His eyes mirrored hers
until
she felt his heat, his passion, his wanting – but still he held something back
.
He looked down upon her with such raw desire she was encased, surrounded – yet left wanting. She could see each sensation that rippled through his body as he thrust within her
.
His eyes were large and dark, his nostrils flared with passion as he fought for control
.
She would not grant him that detachment
.
This time she would have what she wanted – all of it.

She tightened herself within, seeking to grab the reins from his hands to send them both careening down that sharp cliff to the inevitable shattering, but he fought her off – refused to grant her victory
.
He held her pinned, his to pleasure, his to own.

But she refused to be mastered
.
His hands locked on her hips leaving her hands free, and they snuck down between them, to the place of their joining
.
It took only the barest whisper of touch across his silken flesh to send him careening.

She saw him lose the battle
.
His eyes clenched and then grew wide as he dropped the reins and they both ran free.

There was no master, no mistress, no control, as the fires grew and exploded between them.

She felt his release, heard his cry, as her own rose to join
.
The shook and shuddered and gasped together as ecstasy took them and held them and then abated.

He could feel her heartbeat pulsing around him
.
That was the first thought that entered Wulf’s mind as sanity returned
.
It seemed such a simple thing, but it caught him unawares
.
Her heart surrounded him, completed him.

Where had that thought come from
?
He had no interest in her heart, only her body and her daughter
.
That was the whole reason behind this
.
Yes, that was the reason.

He pulled himself from her, and settling her fully on the bed
and laid
beside her
.
Her eyes were still closed, her body soft from the thoroughness of their loving
.
He let himself grin with satisfaction
.

He’d felt the war for control between them, and if he had not won, neither had she
.
His body quickened again as he considered the possibilities for another skirmish
.

First, though, he had matters to take care of
.
She’d surprised him, by coming to him
.
He’d been ready to go to her, to kiss her to compliance and then spring his plan upon her
.
He’d brook no resistance
.
He fought to win.