Skye O'Malley (39 page)

The pleasure and the pain mingled about and within her. She had known great love, but never had she known such passion. It consumed her, leaving room for nothing else. Onward he drove her, and she reached peak after peak, believing each time that it was not possible to go any further, yet cresting higher and higher. Behind her closed eyelids the world exploded into a rainbow of shattered glass. She felt the contractions of an orgasm so great that she believed death was about to overtake her. Over and over and over again her body shuddered with the force of her passion.

He had joined her in ecstasy, climax for climax, then slowly he regained his senses and managed to roll off her body. For a moment he could but stare at her. She was white and barely breathing. Sitting up, he tenderly gathered her into his arms. She was cold and he strove to warm her. No woman had ever driven him as far as she had done. No woman had ever satisfied him as much as she, and no woman had ever given of herself as fully as she.

Yes, he loved her. And de Grenville could keep his damned barge. He had no intention of jeopardizing his love over an insane bet. Why had he made the damned bet? If Dickon dared breathe a word of their foolishness, he’d call him out.

She stirred in his arms, and slowly her beautiful blue eyes fluttered open again. She searched his face fearfully for a sign of reassurance.
He gently smoothed her tangled dark hair from her forehead and said simply, “Don’t ever leave me, Skye.”

“I won’t, Geoffrey.”

For Geoffrey Southwood this was the first love he had felt since his pretty, young mother had died in another futile attempt at childbearing, when Geoffrey was still quite young. His father’s only son, Geoffrey had been born just ten months after his parents’ wedding day. His mother next produced a daughter, Geoffrey’s only full sister, Catherine, who was married now and living in Cornwall. His stepmother had birthed his two half-sisters, one of whom was now wed to a Worcestershire baron, the other to a wealthy Devon squire. She had died, along with a stillborn son. His father had not married again.

His father had been proud of Geoffrey, but had forbidden what he considered soft treatment for his son. At seven, Geoffrey had left his own home to grow up in the household of the Earl of Shrewsbury, as his own son was now doing. He lived with half a dozen other young nobles, learning manners, morals, politics, and the business of being a great lord, but there was no room for love in that life. It was three years before he saw his home again and then he was allowed but a single month’s visit. Only his youngest half-sister, Elizabeth, was still at home, the two older girls already having been settled in other noble households to learn the business of becoming successful wives and mothers. Though Beth had admired the elegant and polished ten-year-old boy, young Geoffrey was far too puffed up by his own importance to pay the little girl much attention.

The following year when he returned for his month, Beth was gone. The next year he was twelve, and married the little heiress whose life had meant so little to Geoffrey and whose untimely death left him wealthy in his own right. Both his mother and stepmother had died. He scarcely knew his sisters, his father had flatly discouraged affection, and his mousy, unimaginative wife was not to his taste and never had been. This mysterious and beautiful woman who lay by his side had given him more than any other person. It was perhaps not so surprising, then, that he was falling in love with her with an innocence extraordinary in a worldly man.

He wrapped an arm about her and she nestled close, her thoughts beginning to reassemble. Her beloved Khalid had given her much joy, but she admitted to herself that she had never known such passion as this. It was frightening, yet it was magnificent. Their bodies seemed to have been created expressly for one another.

That Geoffrey had wanted more than a one-night affair with her had been obvious from the first. He said he loved her, and she was beginning to believe it. Too, Skye was not foolish. She knew she was a stranger in a country foreign to all she had known in Algiers. And when Robbie left, as he soon would, she would be without a man’s protection. Her business had to be run here, not from Devon. If she intended staying in London then she must have a protector.

She should marry again, but after Khalid el Bey, who would suit her? She was too exotic and, she believed, too well-born, to wed with a mere London merchant. On the other hand, she was not sufficiently high born for a lord. Since Geoffrey was married, there seemed only one course open to her. Though she shrank from it, she knew she must take it. To cap the argument, there was also Willow to think of.

It would not be so awful. Geoffrey was handsome, and in love with her. He would treat her well, and since she need not rely on him for financial support she would retain a great measure of independence. This would set her above other men’s mistresses. And as his acknowledged mistress she would be safe from other men, for no man in his right mind would dare approach the Earl of Lynmouth’s woman!

Geoffrey’s breathing had become quite regular. How handsome he was in sleep, very much the Angel Earl of his nickname once sleep took the cynical and faintly arrogant look from his face. There was an almost vulnerable look, though he was indeed a strong personality. She let her eyes wander from his face to his wide shoulders and broad chest, down to his narrow waist and slim hips. His legs were long, shapely, and covered with a fine pale golden down. His feet were slender, high-arched, the nails neatly pared. Her eyes wandered upward again to his sex, limp now and settled cozily in its nest of soft blond hair. It looked so sweet and harmless now, yet a short while ago it had been a great, blue-veined beast driving her to pleasures she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to reach out and touch him.

“I trust it all meets with your approval, sweetheart.”

She started and color flooded her face. She gasped.

He chuckled, then opened his lime-colored eyes and, reaching up, pulled her down into his arms. “So, witch, you were taking inventory of me. I ask, does it meet with your approval?” Kissing her ear, he ran his tongue around it, then thrust in and tickled her.

She squirmed, shivering deliciously. “Stop it, Geoffrey! Yes! Yes! Your assets certainly do meet with my approval.”

He cupped a breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. “The Queen will be resting for the next few days, so I am free. I want to take you away somewhere and spend all my time making love to you.”

“Yes!” she replied, slightly surprised at herself.

He chuckled again. “How flattering you are, and how honest. I approve, sweetheart. I know of an inn about half a day’s ride up the river. It’s small and elegant, and the food is excellent. I am well known to the landlord.”

“Do you take all your mistresses there?” she said more sharply than she would have wished.

“I have never taken any woman there,” he said softly, understanding her. “It is my own special place when I wish to escape the trials of being who I am. I thought we would go there and see if, after spending several days with me, you would like to become my mistress. That way, if you decide against it, our liaison will remain our secret. Though it would please me to shout our love to the world, I would not embarrass you publicly.”

“Geoffrey. I am so sorry I spoke in haste. And I thank you for being so considerate.”

“Sweetheart. I have had several mistresses in my day, but you’ve been a wife. It’s hard for you, I know, to reconcile yourself to this position.” He took her face in one hand and kissed her tenderly. “God, you’ve got the sweetest mouth!”

She felt herself growing languid again and she leaned back. Sighing happily, her deep blue eyes warm, she said, “Damn you, Geoffrey. What is it you do to me that one kiss renders me weak—and wanton besides.”

“What do you do to me, Skye, that renders me insatiable?”

Quickly they were in each other’s arms again, their mouths and tongues and hands devouring each other. Bodies entwined, they kissed until their mouths were bruised and both were breathless. Already aroused, his manhood beat against her thigh. Reaching down, she caressed him with teasing fingers, reaching out to cup the soft pouch beneath his shaft, running a sure finger firmly beneath it, hearing his gasp of surprised pleasure.

There was no excruciating waiting this time. She parted her thighs easily and he slid into her warmth. Confident now, she tightened her vaginal muscles about him as Yasmin had taught her. “Jesus!” he cried out softly as the wave of pleasure overpowered him. He drew back to thrust deeper yet, and again she tightened around him. “Stop, witch!” he begged. “It’s the most delightful torture
I’ve endured, but stop before I die. I want to pleasure you, too!”

Her arms were tight about him and as she loosened her grip on him he began to murmur softly to her, “Little witch, I knew that beneath the ladylike demeanor there was a passionate wanton. Open yourself to me, my darling. God, how warm and sweet you are! How your little honey oven burns for me—pleasures me—loves me!” He moved rhythmically with long, smooth strokes, each thrust seeming to go deeper than the one before. She could feel herself opening wide to receive him, taking him all, wanting even more. Oh, God, she wanted more! Sobbing, she felt her climax bearing down on her like a great wind, slamming into her with such force that she fainted, hearing as she slid away into the dark warmth his cry of pleasure.

Her first awareness was the kisses he was covering her face with. Dear God, she thought, that he can rouse me to such heights! She opened her eyes and smiled tremulously at him, her eyes brilliant with tears. He smiled back and ran a slim finger tenderly down her nose. “You’ve bewitched me, my blue-eyed love. Tomorrow afternoon we shall ride upriver to the Ducks and Drake. For several days we shall do nothing other than make love in a beautiful room that overlooks the river, and eat and drink sweet wine. I shall bind you to me so you’ll never want to leave me, sweetheart. Never!” His mouth closed over hers again, kissing her deeply. Then he loosed her and rose from the bed. He drew on his clothing quickly and smiled down at her. “We had best keep our liaison a secret for now, sweetheart.” His green eyes glittered. “Though you’ve probably not made up your mind about me yet, I’ve made up my mind about you. I mean to have you, sweetheart!” He bent again and placed a firm, light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, my darling. I’ve no doubt I’ve fair worn you out.” He walked across the room, lifted a tapestry hanging on the wall, and pressed a panel. A door swung open.

Skye gasped. “Where,” she demanded, “does that passage lead?”

“To my house,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Remember—my grandfather built this house for his mistress.”

“Then there was no need to climb up to my window?”

“No, sweetheart, but I did think it was most romantic, didn’t you?”

She began to laugh. “Geoffrey, I’m not so sure you’re not a madman!”

He grinned. Then, blowing her a kiss, he disappeared through the passage and the door swung shut behind him.

“What manner of man have I involved myself with?” she said softly aloud. A damned interesting one, the voice in her head answered, and she laughed into the darkness.

CHAPTER 16

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
, S
KYE SENT
D
AISY TO FIND
R
OBERT
Small. The little captain had rolled in, a good hour past dawn, much the worse for wear. When he finally made an appearance, rumpled and red-eyed, Skye winced. “Oh, Robbie, how many pints did you drink?”

He gave her a weak grin. “It wasn’t the pints so much as the wenches. They were twins, and just sixteen. Ah, youth!”

“Did your friend de Grenville survive?”

“Barely. Thank God we had your carriage. I left him in the care of his majordomo. For a Devon sailor, though, he has a mighty weak stomach.”

Skye bit back the laughter bubbling in her throat. It would have been unkind. “I’m going away for a few days,” she said quietly. “Though this is a secret, I will be upriver at an inn called the Ducks and Drake. Should there be an emergency you’ll know where to find me.”

“You’ll not be alone.” It was a statement.

“No, I’ll not be alone, Robbie.”

Robbie sighed. “Skye, lass, I’ll not have you hurt. Southwood is such a cold bastard.”

“Not with me, Robbie. Besides, though this will sound terrible, I do not love him. I doubt I shall ever love anyone again. Khalid is too strong in my memory. But I do like Lord Southwood. And Robbie, you know that I must have a powerful protector. Come spring, you’ll be off again, and be gone for months. I am a woman alone. I have no family but my daughter. My whole life began with Khalid. I have no past. With the Queen’s charter, our business should flourish and with the Earl’s protection I will be free to run it, and free from the bothersome advances of other men.”

“But the price, Skye.”

“Being Southwood’s acknowledged mistress?” she laughed.
“What else is there for me? Marriage? With whom? And you know that I need wealth to give me the power and respectability that will secure Willow’s future. I loved Khalid and I was proud of him, but what future would my daughter have if it were known here that her father was the great Whoremaster of Algiers? No, Robbie, the price is not greater than the rewards. The Earl of Lynmouth has never had an acknowledged mistress of my stature, and I don’t expect him to replace me soon. When Willow is grown she will be an heiress with a powerful ‘uncle.’ I shall be able to make a good match for her.”

Robbie shrugged. “You’ve thought it all out, I see, as usual. There’s no arguing with a logical woman. Should I wish you happiness, then?”

“He loves me, Robbie. It’s not just that he’s said it. He means it. A woman knows when she’s being lied to, Robbie, and I hope I’m not easy to fool.”

“Ah, lass. I only want you happy.”

“I know, Robbie. Don’t fret. I’m not unhappy.”

He patted her hand awkwardly, and she bent and kissed his ruddy cheek. “Oh, Robbie, what would I do without you? You’re my best friend!”