Seduced by His Touch (11 page)

“Delightful.”

He smiled, wondering if she was referring to the food or his kisses. He definitely hoped the latter.

“Or I know,” he whispered, brushing his mouth ever so lightly against hers. “Lobster and oysters. Light and delicate, with a taste as fresh as the sea. Shall we try that? I could feed them to you bite by delectable bite.”

Before she had a chance to answer, he traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue, then slid inside, as her lips parted to receive him. Leaning her back against the sofa pillows, he plundered the sweet, velvety depths of her mouth, exploring with sudden purpose, as well as with undeniable pleasure.

Maybe it was wrong of him, but he sensed he could not afford to let her leave tonight—not without forging a deeper bond between them. And what better way than to complete her seduction? His methods might be a tad unfair given the amount of brandy he’d let her consume, but she was destined to be his, whether she knew it or not.

So why not now?

Why not tonight?

His hand moved to her breast, fingers seeking the sensitive flesh inside her bodice. But as he began to delve beneath, she stiffened slightly and reached to deny him. “I…I thought you said dinner.”

“I did. And we’ll eat—after a while. We have plenty of time.”
All night,
he thought, taking her mouth with demanding persuasion.

Moments slipped past as she surrendered, responding enthusiastically to his kiss. Then just as suddenly, she groaned and tore herself away. “N-no, stop. I should go. I told you, I have to go.”

Pushing against him, she levered herself up and off the sofa. But after no more than a couple of steps, she faltered, weaving in a most alarming way.

Springing up, he hurried forward and reached her just in time to prevent a fall. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her tightly against him.

“Stars,” she cried, lifting a hand to her head. “I feel so dizzy. It’sh that brandy,” she accused in what she obviously wanted to be a stern rebuke. Instead her words came out slurred.

And adorable. She was definitely adorable.

“You’ve gotten me fosked.”

“Foxed, do you mean?” he repeated.

“Yes, fosked. All your fault.”

“Not
all
my fault, since I believe you are the one who insisted on that second glass, if you will recall.”

Her brows furrowed in clear confusion. “Oh, you’re right. I d-did, d-din’t I?”

“Hmm, and so you did.”

“I should go home.”

He shook his head. “You’re in no condition to go home, not right now. I suggest a lie-down for a few hours.”
Or perhaps the entire night.

“M-maybe just a tiny while,” she agreed, trying to pinch her fingers together for illustration, and missing. “In a guest room.”

“There are several.” But he had no intention of taking her to any of them.
She’ll sleep in my room. In my bed.

Bending slightly, he slid his arms around her knees and back and lifted her high against him.

Instinctively, her arms curved around his neck. “Are you carrying me?” she asked, her voice holding a note of amazement.

“You appear to be in need of assistance.”

“But I must be too heavy. What if you drop me?”

He met the surprised blue of her eyes. “Impossible. You’re as light as a feather. You feel just perfect to me, Grace. You are just perfect
for
me.”

And oddly enough, in that moment, he knew that she was. He might not love her, but she would make him a splendid wife. With her, he knew he would always be challenged and would never grow bored. They would make a fine family together, producing strapping dark-haired boys and pretty, long-legged, redheaded girls.

But,
he reminded himself,
first things first.

Cradling her tighter, he gazed into her eyes. “Ready?”

With a tremulous smile, she nodded, then leaned her head against his shoulder with a contented sigh.

Pleased, he turned and strode from the room.

T
he sank into an ocean of feathers and satiny dark blue brocade, floating as the room spun slowly around her.

Or perhaps I am the one spinning?
Now there was a funny notion. She giggled a little to herself and closed her eyes while she waited for the world to settle back on its proper axis.

A gentle hand stroked her hair, the feathery ocean rolling slightly as someone joined her on the satin counterpane. “Jack?”

“Hmm hmm?” he said in a rich, deep rumble.

She stretched, as comfortable as a cat and half inclined to purr, as his fingers glided over, then into, her hair. He massaged her scalp with the lightest of touches, her tresses coming loose as the pins popped free.

“Are you taking down my hair?” she mused aloud, feeling the long, heavy mass flow across the pillows.

“Just making you more comfortable.”

A faint metallic ping rang out as he set a handful of pins on the night table. Then his fingers were back, combing through the strands to smooth out any tangles. She couldn’t help but sigh with enjoyment, tingles dancing over her body in little electrical skips and pings.

“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said in a throaty voice. Wrapping a long strand around his fist, he lifted her hair to his face. “Glorious.”

“Aunt Jane says it looks like a forest fire.”

“On this particular topic, your aunt is singularly misinformed. The gods themselves would kill for hair like yours.”

Smiling, she let herself float as her eyelids drifted downward.

The touch of his lips against her temple and cheek brought her back to her surroundings. Opening her eyes, she gazed up at the ornate ceiling, then across to the richly carved bedposts, with their elegant hangings. “D’you always keep sush big, fancy beds for guests?”

His lips moved into a smile, pausing as he kissed her neck. “I’m a tall man. I like a long mattress.”

She frowned, knowing something wasn’t quite right about his answer, although at the moment she couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. But being a tall woman, she had no complaint with large beds.

My feet don’t even come close to the bottom in this one,
she noted, stretching out her toes just to double-check. To her delight, she discovered nothing but more bed.

His fingers moved again, busy this time unfastening the buttons on the back of her gown. He was as efficient as a lady’s maid, she found, the fastenings already open before she half realized what he was doing. She blinked again and felt him loosen the laces of her stays.

She drew a deep, refreshing inhalation, her bodice sagging downward in a rather alarming manner. Only she was too relaxed at the moment to really be all that alarmed. Still, she decided she couldn’t let the matter go without offering some remark. “Why’d you do that?”

“Just making you more comfortable, remember?” he drawled in a voice that was as smooth and heady as the brandy she’d drunk. “Are you not more comfortable?”

She mulled over the question and realized that she was.

Deliciously, deliriously comfortable.

Except for my sleeves,
she thought. She just had to get her arms free of the nagging confinement of her sleeves.

Without considering the ramifications of her next move, she worked her arms out of the garment. Glowing from her successful liberation, she followed her instincts further and stretched her arms over her head.

Out popped her bare breasts, her bodice and stays slipping down her torso. “Oops!” she said, giggling even as her skin flushed pink with embarrassment.

Instantly, her nipples tightened, both from the cool air in the room and the heat of Jack’s gaze—his eyes fastening like a beam of light on her exposed flesh.

She didn’t know what came over her next—or where her earlier inhibitions and misgivings went—but instead of attempting to cover herself, she lay still. Brazenly, she let him look his fill.

And look he did.

Abruptly, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting up, then down, beneath the skin of his throat. A rueful gleam came into his gaze, one that seemed tinged with guilt. “You really are tipsy, aren’t you?”

After a moment’s thought, she nodded in agreement.

“Two small brandies and you’re as drunk as a lord.”

She smiled. “No, you’re the lord, milord. Milord Jack. Gorgeous, mouthwatering, lovely Lord Jack.”

“Lovely, am I?” he remarked with a chuckle. The sound soon turned to a groan. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going to regret this, but it would just be wrong.”

“What would be wrong?”

Taking hold of her bodice, he gently covered up her exposed breasts. “This.” Leaning over, he combed his fingers through her hair again. “You should rest.”

“I am resting.”

“Sleep then.”

“But I’m not sleepy. Not anymore.”

“You will be soon enough. Close your eyes and relax.”

“Where will you be?”

He swallowed again, as though his decision was tearing him in two. “Close by. You have only to ring when you awaken.”

Her frown returned. “But I don’t want you to go. Don’t go, Jack. Stay with me.”

Suddenly she knew she meant every word. She didn’t want him to leave, and no matter what might happen, she would have no regrets. For in spite of all the warnings against him and the knowledge that his motives were undoubtedly dishonorable, she didn’t care. She’d trusted Terrence, and look where that had gotten her? For good or bad, she felt safe with Jack. She could count on him not to deceive her. With him, she knew who she was and where she stood—with no lies between them.

Unmindful of her loosened bodice, she sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Stay.” Emboldened as she had never been before, she kissed his cheek, then his jaw.

“That’s the spirits talking,” he said in a strained voice.

She shook her head. “No. The spirits may have freed my tongue, but they haven’t put words in my mouth. I know what I’m saying.”

He pulled her away so she was forced to meet his gaze. “And do you know what you’re doing? What will happen if I stay? I’ll strip the rest of these clothes off you and lay you beneath me in this bed. I’ll take you the way a man takes a woman, and I won’t stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“Do you also realize this is my bedchamber and that I brought you here to seduce you? That I still plan to seduce you. Later. But right now, you’re foxed and I—”

She put her hand over his mouth. “Want this. Want you. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

She wasn’t sure which of them was the more surprised, but the instant she said the words, she knew they were true. She did love him—fully and deeply. Her indecisiveness this past week and her impromptu trip to Bristol had been nothing more than excuses to deny her real feelings. Even Terrence and her contemplation of marriage to him had been based on fear. Fear of herself. Fear of letting herself love Jack. Fear of letting herself take what she wanted most. But suddenly she wasn’t afraid any more.

“You love me,” he repeated in a measured tone.

She nodded. “You probably wish I hadn’t said it,” she continued, “but it’s how I feel. Please don’t think I expect anything in return.”

His jaw tightened, a fierce look in his eyes. “You should.”

“Just tell me you want me.”

“Of course, I want you. Considering these last couple weeks, how could you still be in doubt?”

“Then you’ll stay?”

He hesitated. “I shouldn’t, but how can I refuse now?”

Reassured, she lay back against the pillows. When she moved to unclothe herself for him again, he stopped her.

“Don’t,” he said in a throaty growl, catching her hand inside his own. “Let me.”

With his gaze holding hers prisoner, he peeled down her bodice, then reached out to touch one breast. His fingers circled, sliding rhythmically around a single taut peak. Ever so lightly, he pinched the sensitive nub, then released it, before beginning the leisurely progression all over again.

She couldn’t breathe as he toyed with her, her senses spinning wildly around her again. But her reaction had nothing to do with the alcohol this time. Trembling, she let him do whatever he wished, confident he would bring her nothing but exquisite pleasure. An acute ache rose between her thighs, a longing to be possessed that made her restless and needy.

Clasping a hand behind his head, she drew him down for a kiss. She expected him to meet her demand with wild, ravishing passion. Instead, his touch was unhurried, his moves tempered with a care that bordered on the reverent.

Slow and easy. Soft and gentle. His every caress made her melt, turning her insides as warm and slick as candle wax left out too long in the sun. His kisses were magical, weaving a spell around her—around them both—that left her no hope of escape.

Not that she had any wish to escape. Quite the opposite, since she was unable to keep herself from writhing beneath his caresses as he continued to shape and stroke her breasts, moving from one to the other with a thoroughness that verged on torment.

Swallowing a moan, she pressed herself more deeply against his palm, seeking more. He complied, breaking off their kiss so that he could slide down to take one of her breasts in his mouth.

Hot, wet heat engulfed her, his tongue like satin against her sensitive peak. Answering moisture gathered between her thighs as he suckled with an intensity that reached to her very core. Raking her with his teeth, he paused to suckle again, feasting upon her with long, slow licks that were punctuated by intense, mind-spinning draws. She quivered and threaded her fingers into his hair to cradle him closer.

She felt his lips curve into a smile as he transferred his ministrations to her other breast. Not stinting in the least, he lavished her willing flesh with the same degree of blissful attention. At length, he slowed, drawing upon her with a last, lingering pull before levering himself away.

Instantly, she was bereft and reached to bring him back.

But she needn’t have worried, his broad, skillful hands moving to peel away her gown, stays, and petticoats with calm, simple efficiency. Once he was done, her stockings and lacy garters were all that remained to shield her from his view—leaving her with absolutely no protection at all.

His azure eyes gleamed, turning an even more intense shade of blue, as he raked her with his gaze. Surveying her body in a leisurely downward sweep, he studied every inch of her form. When he reached the spot where her fiery triangle of curls met the apex of her thighs, he paused before continuing his amorous perusal all the way down to her feet.

Abruptly, she became self-conscious, lowering her arms across her body and bending her knees in a concealing half-curl.

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t turn shy on me now,” he admonished in a mild tone. “I assure you, you have absolutely nothing to hide. Quite the contrary, in point of fact.”

Laying a palm on her stocking-clad ankle, he roved upward with a light, tensile glide. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve dreamed of seeing these legs.”

Her eyes widened. “You have?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve fantasized endlessly, dying to know just how shapely they are and exactly how far up they go.” Reaching the bare strip of skin above her silken garter, he stopped and smiled. “I am overjoyed to note that they do go up—way, way up. You are gorgeous, even more so than I expected.”

Her lips quivered on a tremulous breath. “So, you’re pleased?”

Something darkened in his gaze. “Yes, very much. Now let me please you in return.”

She didn’t know precisely what he intended, but he moved quickly to demonstrate by sliding his hand sideways. Warm as toast, and darker-hued than her own pale white skin, his strong fingers spread outward against the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. The sight of him touching her there was dramatic—a powerful contrast of male to female. But because she still had her legs locked together, he could go no farther. Ever so gently, he traced the seam between her thighs.

“Open up,” he murmured.

Her pulse sprang into a frantic rhythm.

“Open your legs, Grace. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

She hesitated, her heart pounding like a relentless fist beneath her breasts. Slowly, aware she was literally laying herself bare to him, she did as he asked.

His lips curved with approval. “God, you’re lovely. Now, just a little more.”

More?

She didn’t think she could manage. But somehow she found the courage. Emboldened once again by the carnal appreciation she saw in his gaze, she spread her legs wider.

And then he touched her there.

She gasped, her eyes falling shut at the devastating sensation of his fingertips teasing her nether curls. Stroking her with light, glancing touches, he delved beyond, gliding along her sleek folds as he gradually explored.

She grew wet in a way that ought to have mortified her. But Jack appeared to find nothing amiss, so why should she? If anything, her body seemed eager to aid him, his fingers rubbing with a slippery friction that made her thoughts scatter to the four winds.

Then she couldn’t speak or think at all, her hands bunching in the fabric of the counterpane, as pleasure wove through her like the tendrils of a wild, rapacious vine. He speared a single finger into her, making her shudder and arch.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but he wouldn’t let her stay silent.

“Do you like this. Yes?” he coaxed.

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me where to touch you next.”

But she couldn’t speak, rolling her head on the pillows instead.

“Here?” His thumb circled in a lazy glide. “Or perhaps you prefer this spot?”

“Oohh,”
she gasped aloud, perspiration breaking out over her skin.

“What about now?” He added a second finger, filling her more than she thought she could stand. Yet it felt right. Exactly right. She groaned, craving more.

“Maybe this.”

He slid higher to caress some hidden nub of flesh. Need swamped her, burning like a raging fire.