Seducing Mr Storm (4 page)

Chapter Six

A gloom fell over the house like mourning when it was reported that Elijah had gone back to London for the foreseeable future. Lucy kept to her chamber with no attempt made to rehabilitate her ankle with exercise, and Mrs Seymour took to her bed as though someone had died. Susanna guessed it was the smashing of her dreams her mother objected to. She herself steamed with impotent fury. She had compromised herself with that man, had received his promise that he would seek her sister’s hand and, instead, he had fled like the philanderer he was.

Summer had turned to early autumn, bright crisp days and fallen leaves, when the thunder of hooves echoed up the drive and a man presented his calling card. Susanna lifted her head from her book as Mrs Seymour flew into the drawing room, hands flapping, generous bosom heaving.

‘Mr Storm is come back!’

She was followed by Lucy, who seemed to have made a miraculous recovery. Both women had clearly forgotten their stupor, and were happy for the rake to come back into their lives and make his insincere apologies. Susanna curled her lip. She stood.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a headache.’

But it was too late. Richard arrived at the door, announcing loudly, ‘Mr Elijah Storm.’

Elijah strode in. Elizabeth and Lucy almost swooned simultaneously. He was dressed all in black, not a speck of colour about him anywhere, his hair still indecently short. His pale eyes flickered over Susanna, unreadable.

He bowed low at the three women. ‘My deep regret at my sudden departure,’ he said, mainly addressing Elizabeth. ‘My mother was taken ill.’

Susanna regarded him suspiciously. Was it the truth? She doubted anything this man said.

Elizabeth made a sympathetic clucking sound like a constipated chicken. ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

‘She was gravely sick,’ Elijah said, ‘but is now on the road to recovery. I hope to spend several weeks at my estate but would have to leave again should she take a turn for the worse.’

‘Of course,’ Elizabeth said.

Lucy didn’t speak. She gazed at Elijah in rapture.

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which Elijah cleared his throat. ‘Actually, it is Mr Seymour I have come to see.’

Elizabeth turned purple. Her eyes bulged from her head and she clasped her hands at her bosom, barely able to stay upright with excitement. ‘Of course. Richard!’ She yelled to the butler, who hovered in the hall. ‘Please show Mr Storm to my husband’s study.’

The butler bowed. Elijah inclined his head politely, threw Susanna a quick glance, and turned on his heel, riding boots tapping on the parquet floor.

Elizabeth fell into a chair in a near faint, fanning herself theatrically with her hand. ‘Oh Lucy! This is it!’

Susanna regarded her sourly. There could be no doubt that Elijah had come to ask for Lucy’s hand in marriage. But instead of satisfaction that he had finally kept his end of the bargain, she only felt deep, wrenching agony. She sat down, her novel clutched hard to her chest, where the worst of the pain was located. That a man like him could make her feel like this, for the first time in her life … It seemed incomprehensible. To watch him lost to her sister, a man who had stirred her so passionately. How would she ever recover from this? She looked at Lucy, pale and tense with excitement, pacing the drawing room as though waiting to hear a sentence pronounced and she felt tender. The better woman had won. She should wish Lucy well. While some of Elijah’s behaviour and temperament was suspect, her marriage would never be short of passion.

The three of them waited in tense silence. Elizabeth called for water and smelling salts. Lucy hovered by the window, plucking at the curtains with anxious fingers. And Susanna sat perfectly still and wished with all her heart that she had never met Elijah Storm.

It seemed an eternity before a door opened distantly. Two sets of footsteps sounded down the hall. Edward and Elijah appeared in the doorway; Edward beaming, Elijah coolly content. Both of them looked towards Susanna and she flushed at the attention, confused.

Elizabeth gathered her wits and lurched to her feet. ‘Mr Seymour?’ she addressed her husband. ‘You have something to share with us?’

Edward rubbed his hands together. ‘Indeed I do. Mr Storm has asked for our daughter’s hand in marriage.’

Elizabeth threw her hands up. ‘Oh God be praised! I hope you said yes, Edward!’

‘Of course, Elizabeth,’ Edward said, his tone gently reproving. ‘That is if Susanna herself consents, because I would no more give her away against her will than I would …’

Elizabeth cut him off. ‘You mean Lucy?’

Every woman in the room was stiff and silent. Susanna stared dumbly at her father.

‘No, my dear, I mean Susanna,’ he pronounced.

Susanna’s legs would have buckled had she not been sitting down. She felt the blood drain from her face and she looked from Edward to Elijah in increasing panic. This couldn’t be true. Why would he do this? What about Lucy and his promise? Her mother would never forgive her for this.

Elizabeth stifled a little cry behind her handkerchief and burst into noisy tears.

‘My dear,’ Edward said, looking at Mr Storm with some embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Lucy ran from the room in hysterics.

‘I don’t understand,’ Elizabeth sobbed. ‘Mr Storm, I presented Lucy to you in the most transparent of gestures. She is our hope of a good match. Susanna, she …’ She didn’t dare look at her daughter. ‘She’s a maid now, beyond hope of a husband. You have had your head turned, I understand, but you must realise Lucy is the right woman for you and …’

Elijah interrupted firmly and gently. ‘Mrs Seymour, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I have no particular feeling for Lucy and I have always promised I would never marry a woman for money, for the match or any such silly thing evident these days. I ardently love and admire Susanna and I wish your blessing for her hand.’

Susanna stared up at him with her senses swimming. Her ears must be playing tricks. He had not just declared his love, had he? There must be some mistake. This philanderer had teased and tormented her and shown himself to be a man of the loosest morals. Why exactly did he wish her hand, and what made him think she would actually consent to be his wife? For a start, as if she could disregard her sister so cruelly.

Elizabeth swayed in place, shaking her head, still at a loss to comprehend.

Susanna rose quickly from her seat. ‘Thank you for your kind invitation, Mr Storm,’ she said with her voice as firm as she could make it. ‘I regret I am unable to accept.’ She inclined her head and marched past him.

Behind her, she heard Elizabeth give a wail.

Angry voices came from the study as Susanna hovered outside later that day. She had lain on her bed for hours, weeping at the cruel twist of fate that would have Elijah Storm declaring his love for her. From down the hall, she had heard Lucy’s racking sobs and was unable to comfort her. Her sister would now see her as the enemy, someone who had stolen the man of her dreams away.

‘In God’s name, woman, what does it matter which daughter he chooses as long as we have found a husband for one of them?’ Edward said in exasperation.

‘Edward, Lucy was meant for him. Mr Storm in his contrary fashion, as only he can, has made a mockery of us all, of me, of poor Lucy. Clearly he plays with poor Susanna to amuse himself at our expense.’

Susanna leant against the wall with tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth.

‘That was not the way Mr Storm put his case to me,’ her father said. ‘He waxed lyrical in his admiration for Susanna. I was left in no doubt as to his feelings.’

Susanna shook her head. She refused to believe that Elijah’s feelings extended beyond needs of the flesh. He toyed with her. He would marry her and then he would disappear for weeks on end to card games and houses of ill repute. Oh, she knew his type, no matter her sheltered upbringing. He absolutely could not be allowed to get away with this. She clenched her fists. She would show him. God, she would show him.

*               *               *

The rain was lashing down in sheets as she descended from the carriage on the driveway of Rainton Grange and was shown inside by the curious butler. Her behaviour was scandalous, of course, for a single woman to turn up uninvited at the home of such a notorious bachelor as Mr Storm. Well, she didn’t much care what the gossips would say. She doubted Elijah himself was loose-lipped even if he was loose in every other area.

‘Miss Seymour to see Mr Storm,’ she said as the butler helped her off with her damp cloak and bonnet and took her gloves. Footsteps sounded on the marble floor and the man of the house appeared.

‘Thank you, Reuben,’ he said. ‘That will be all.’

The butler bowed and withdrew, taking Susanna’s outdoor clothes with him.

Elijah looked highly amused, those crystal blue eyes dancing with mirth. ‘Why, Miss Seymour, you’re all wet. Perhaps I can interest you in getting out of those clothes before you catch a chill?’

Susanna stalked forward. She beat her fists in rage against his chest. ‘You beast! Why must you play with me and my family this way? What has poor Lucy done to you that you would disrespect her so?’

Elijah’s eyes flashed. He gripped her wrists, hard enough to hurt. ‘You think I play with you? You think my feelings for you show disrespect to your sister?’

‘Yes!’ she cried.

He shook her breathless before releasing her abruptly. ‘You fool,’ he spat. ‘You have no idea.’

She followed his lithe body with an anxious gaze as he paced away, seemingly striving to recover himself. He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it dishevelled, and breathed heavily.

‘You don’t know how you compromise yourself by coming here,’ he said finally, with a cunning glint in his eye. ‘The things I could do to you.’

Heat rose to Susanna’s cheeks. Her body flooded with warmth and sensation, her nipples tightening, her groin pulsing. His forbidden words raised all kinds of taboo images no lady had any right to be thinking, centred on his mouth, his hands, and that thick, glorious cock just made for pleasure. She ached between her legs for him.

She bit her lip, attempting to stare him down with an angry mask in place, but she was fighting a losing battle. She turned to flee, but it was too late. He caught her around the waist, pulled her against the hard length of his body. She whimpered at the feel of his erection against the small of her back. His breath drifted over her ear. ‘Let me,’ he whispered. ‘Let me.’

He cupped her breasts and she arched shamelessly into his touch despite the layers of clothing separating them. His mouth trailed down her neck, planting heated kisses, raising an inferno of desire.

Quite suddenly, he gripped her hand, swung her around to pull her after him. She gasped as he forced her down at the foot of the stairs and fell to his knees. Lifting her skirts, he pushed her thighs apart.

In both mounting lust and blind panic, she tried to fight him. He buried his head beneath her skirts, strong hands keeping her legs prised open, mouth at the top of one stocking, teasing her burning skin.

She gripped his hair with a cry of outrage as he tore her linen underwear apart in his strong hands, and then his mouth was on her swollen, desperate flesh.

She bucked in Elijah’s grip as his tongue flickered over her clitoris, aching and sensitive. He slid his hands under her backside, lifted her to his face, holding her firm, and swiped down her slit, burying between her folds.

Susanna shook and moaned. Elijah teased her up and down one more time before he concentrated that wicked tongue on her hard bud, lapping, lashing and tormenting ferociously, intent, it seemed, on driving her to the fastest, wildest orgasm imaginable.

She lurched and trembled in his grip, unspeakably noisy as he brought her to the edge. He pushed two fingers into her slick warmth and she cried out, knowing she was about to experience a climax unlike anything her own hand could deliver. Senses scattered, she arched desperately against his mouth, wailing as the ecstasy took her, hands clutching his head, holding him in place in case he slid away before she could milk the last waves. But Elijah stayed at his task, tongue frantic as she convulsed, crying out, legs juddering for long seconds that seemed to go on and on and on.

Finally she could take no more of his tongue on her sensitive flesh. She pushed his face away, head dropping back, hands supporting herself on the stairs as she realised the discomfort in her back.

She was sweaty, dishevelled, soaking wet, her hair loose around her face, legs splayed wantonly.

Elijah remained kneeling between her thighs. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and smiled, not lewdly, not smugly, but tenderly at her, and her already hammering heart knocked some more.

‘Susanna,’ he said, ‘never have I more enjoyed giving a woman such pleasure in my life.’

Blood flooded her already flushed face. His countenance was ardent and sincere. She couldn’t bear him like this, preferring the lecherous Lothario. She slid her torn underwear free and yanked her skirts down. He rose to his feet, the bulge in his breeches massive, and held out his hand, but she shrugged it aside. She tried not to look as he not so discreetly adjusted himself beneath his tight constriction. He stepped aside to allow her passage. His saliva filmed her thighs as she headed for the door with her legs unsteady.

Balling up her drawers, she tossed them back at him. ‘Here. A present for you.’ She slammed the door behind her and ran coatless through the downpour.

The startled coachman hurried down quickly to help her inside from the thundering rain, and she collapsed against the seat as they raced down the driveway. Susanna trembled violently, eyes closed, reliving every devastating moment of what Elijah had just done to her.

Chapter Seven

Her mother and sister were not speaking to her the next day. Her father called her solemnly into his office and she sat nervously at his desk while the fire in the grate crackled and popped.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Mr Storm.’

She blushed just to hear his name.

‘Your colour tells me everything I need to know.’

Susanna twisted her hands in her lap. ‘I feel a certain – affinity for the man, father,’ she said. ‘But not at the expense of my mother or sister’s feelings.’

Edward waved his hand impatiently. ‘Your mother be damned.’

She gaped at the sedition.

‘The man asked for your hand, Susanna. He sat before me and assured me in all honesty, with his hand on his heart, that he would love and cherish you for the rest of his life. And you rejected him summarily!’

She kept her head bowed. ‘I don’t believe a word he says, father.’

‘And why the devil not?’

She couldn’t tell him about Elijah’s bold, lascivious behaviour. About their intense sexual chemistry that she suspected would fizzle out once she had to wake up next to him every morning and sit opposite him at the breakfast table for the rest of her life.

‘I don’t think he wants me for the right reasons.’

‘He wants you for the right reasons, my girl. You’re proud, headstrong, intelligent, and fiercely independent. In short, his perfect match.’

‘He said that?’

‘In so many words. You’ll give him a run for his money. Do you really think your sister could tame a man like him the way you could?’

She stared at him. ‘Is that what you think? That I could tame him? That he
wants
me to tame him?’

‘Yes.’

She dropped her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at a loose thread on her gown. ‘I can’t, father.’

‘Child, what am I going to do with you?’

She shook her head miserably, and knew the real reason for her reluctance. She was altogether too afraid of the strength of her feelings for Elijah.

The following day was bright enough to venture outside. Susanna bemoaned the loss of her favourite cloak, bonnet, and gloves to Elijah and hoped he wouldn’t be foolish enough to attempt to return them. She wandered over the lawns and down into the woods, kicking her way through piles of red and golden leaves, listening to the crackling underfoot, the melodic sound of birdsong overhead. She heard the rushing of the river, swollen from the torrential rain that week, as she stepped into the clearing and realised that, actually, lightning did strike twice.

A midnight black horse stood tethered to an oak. A pile of clothes lay on the bank. In the feisty current, Elijah Storm swam naked.

Susanna stopped dead.

He spotted her instantly. He stood, the water lapping around his bare, muscular chest. ‘Miss Seymour, as I live and breathe. I have items of your clothing awaiting you at my home.’

She glowered at him. ‘Why are you permanently undressed?’

‘I thought you liked me that way? You yourself undressed me one evening as I seem to remember. You tore at my breeches like you were opening a box of chocolates.’ He smirked. He walked closer to the bank and she watched the water fall slowly down his rippling torso, revealing a line of dark hair that disappeared down his belly. She swallowed. His biceps were huge, as though he felled trees for a living or indulged in other manual labour. The power of his body awed and disconcerted her.

‘An accident,’ she said, her voice small.

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer still so the waterline fell to the dark hair at his groin, and she nearly whimpered. ‘See anything you like?’ he asked teasingly, standing still.

She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together.

‘Then perhaps I should climb out.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said hastily.

‘Why? Worried you won’t be able to control yourself?’

She laid a hand on the horse’s flank for reassurance. ‘The only one of us who exhibits loss of control on a frequent basis is you, Mr Storm.’

He laughed loudly. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yes.’ She lifted her chin. ‘If I undressed right now, you would be unable to stop yourself rushing from the water to claim me, am I right?’

He regarded her with his head cocked on one side as though trying to work out if it was a trick. And it was. She would not end up in the same compromised position as last time with him. Instead, if she could turn the tables she would tease him so badly he would finally realise he was never going to get anywhere with her and abandon the chase. A little ache in her chest was easy to dismiss.

‘No,’ he said stonily. ‘If you wished me to stay here and admire you from afar, I could do that.’

‘Could you?’

‘I could, although I’d rather be over there pinning you to that tree and driving into you.’

Susanna’s face flamed. She pictured the image all too well. She put her hands to the fastenings on her bodice and he stared, eyes riveted. She unlaced deftly and pulled the gown down her arms to her waist, standing in her restrictive corset with breasts bulging from the top. Elijah licked his lips. A slight flush rose over his cheeks. The water lapped at his belly, receded; for a moment she saw the head of his cock, tumescent.

He was always so hard for her. The knowledge made her legs shake and her fingers tremble as she unlaced the corset and bared her breasts proudly. Elijah drew in his breath. He ground his teeth.

‘God in heaven, woman.’ He stumbled to the bank and she reared back, pressing against the tree. Elijah stood there in the shallows with his hard prick dripping water, his heavy balls tight and swaying. It was all she could do not to run and fling herself upon him.

‘Stay right there, Mr Storm, or I shall scream,’ she informed him.

He gave a little growl. ‘Then show me,’ he said. ‘Show me everything or God help me …’

Susanna leant back against the tree, breasts thrust out. She cupped them in her hands, squeezing, massaging, and pinching the nipples between her thumb and forefinger until they stood taut like ripe cherries. Elijah’s gaze burned her.

‘I would taste you,’ he declared throatily. ‘I would taste every part of you when you are mine.’

‘But I will never be yours, Mr Storm,’ she shot back. ‘This is our swansong. You shall realise there is nothing between us but need.’

A dark shadow fell across his face, his eyes turning icy. ‘And need is a fine thing to start a marriage,’ he declared. ‘As God is my witness, you would not leave my bedchamber for a week.’

Susanna’s heart surged and her underwear flooded. ‘You wish me as a toy for the bedroom, yes? You have nothing to offer me but a hard prick, Mr Storm!’

A sardonic smile failed to reach his eyes. He curled his hand around the aforementioned prick and started a slow stroking. ‘Isn’t that just what you need, Miss Seymour? My cock stoking your insides until you scream.’

She tried to tear her gaze from the sensual motion of his hand. His erection glistened with water, a pearly drop rolling from the tip.

‘Now show me,’ he said. ‘Show me how you pleasure yourself when you think of me.’

She bit her lip to hide a furious cry, then scooped up her skirts and thrust a desperate hand down her drawers. His glance fixed on her groin as she started to rub her wet slit frantically, watching his wanking hand all the while.

‘Marry my sister,’ she said, panting.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Marry me.’

‘No.’

‘Then I will marry someone else and, one day, I will come back here, and next time I catch you in these woods, you will be mine, Susanna Seymour. No false modesty, no pretence. I will throw you down and I
will
have that carefully preserved maidenhead of yours.’

She blanched. ‘You would take me by force, sir?’

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘
Force
? You little minx.’ And suddenly he launched a charge, water showering him as he lurched up the bank, thundering towards her. Susanna shrieked, ran from him with her skirts bunched and her breasts exposed.

Her speed was no match for his. He gripped her arm, pulled her to a halt, and sat down abruptly on a tree stump. Her momentum carried her face down over his lap, where he held her with a cool, heavy hand on the small of her back.

‘Let me go!’

He ignored her. ‘This is what you deserve, and it’s what you shall have.’ He raised her skirts, yanked her underwear down.

She wriggled and gasped before he brought his hand down on her bottom in a slap. Susanna cried out.

‘Hush.’ He spanked her again. ‘The more noise you make, the more I shall spank you.’

Susanna bit her hand. She wailed around it as he spanked both cheeks soundly until they glowed. But the position of submission was startlingly pleasurable for her, even though she would never admit it to him. She was wet between her legs and she writhed on his lap with his naked cock pressed into her belly.

He touched her, sliding a finger along her slit, gathering the moisture and circling her bud. She hissed, gripping at handfuls of grass, the blood rushing to her head. Elijah laughed softly. He parted her buttocks with one hand and circled her most intimate area with a wet thumb while his finger continued to torment her clit.

Susanna tried to jerk away in outrage as her entrance fluttered around his touch. He took no notice but continued to rub and press until his thumb penetrated her. She cried out. He pushed two fingers into her wetness, and used his other hand to rub her clit. With those talented hands, he rubbed and fingered and fucked her all the way to a screaming climax.

She clenched around his fingers, wave after wave of intense contractions until she fell limply on his lap, almost rolling off before he caught her.

She dimly heard Elijah laugh. ‘How many more times do I have to make you come before you marry me?’

She struggled to stand, pulling her drawers up over her ravaged, red backside. ‘A hundred,’ she said defiantly, stuffing her breasts back into her corset.

Elijah grinned, licking at his fingers. ‘A helping hand would not go amiss,’ he said, motioning to his straining cock.

‘Go to hell. Playtime is over.’ Susanna stalked away through the trees, fastening her dress as she went.