To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield (19 page)

“I do wish to seduce you, sweetheart. But I also desire you. Far more than I would wish.” He added in a ghost of a whisper.

She looked up at him, unblinking. “Do you always get what you desire, my lord?”

He answered with action. He lifted his hands to cradle her face, then stroked his thumb around the corner of her mouth, and then across her sensuous bottom lip. He felt the plump swell of it quiver beneath the pad of his thumb. He leaned forward, and skimmed his mouth along the shell of her ear. “Yes,” he murmured. “Always.”

With a soft growl he picked her up and walked a few strides and sat her upon some hay bales. He crouched at her feet, sliding his hands over her firm thighs, flat stomach and cradled her firm breasts. He felt her nipples harden through the layers of her clothes.

He watched her face for any sign of denial. The sun shone through the open doorway but the gloom of the stable caused the light to flicker over the fine bones of her face, and the silken sweep of her eyelashes.
 

Rheda gasped faintly at his touch, and trembled when he hooked his thumbs in the edge of her bodice. No corset. It was as if she welcomed his seduction. Her head went back to rest on the bales piled behind her and with a deft tug; he drew the fabric down, taking her chemise with it, until her pink nipples were exposed. The roaring in his ears increased – she was beautiful.

He hesitated; willing her to protest but the snorts of the animals surrounding them was the only sound.

Rufus leaned forward to draw her left nipple between his lips, she gasped as his mouth suckled and gently nipped. He took that as a sound of approval. He drew her breast more fully into his mouth, until she began to make small, breathy sounds of pleasure. Then he moved to the other breast, first circling the nipple with his tongue, teasing her as Caesar had teased her mare, then sucking at the very hardened tip as he gently nipped with his teeth.

Her murmurs grew more demanding. As Rufus cradled one breast and kissed her deeply, his other hand fisted in her skirts. Fleetingly he knew he should be horsewhipped. He was not so lost in pleasure that he could not appreciate the precariousness of their situation. Anyone could come across them, Jamieson, Daniel…

Instead he inched her skirts higher, then eased one hand between her thighs, touching her lightly in her most intimate place. He stroked her there, wanting to tease and tantalize. He played her with harmless little touches interspersed with the most unchaste caresses possible.
 

He drew back in order to feast on the golden curls at the junction of her thighs and breathe in the arousing scent of her.

Then he touched her intimately and her small gasp made his blood flow molten in his veins. The silken skin between her thighs acted like a compass. All else, even her perfect breasts, were forgotten.

He touched the tangle of silken curls, and his body thrilled as he felt her wetness. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she murmured as he stroked her sensitive flesh.

He leaned forward and whispered, “Beautiful, Rheda,” against her mouth before he stroked a finger deep inside her tight sheath. This time her gasp verged on something more.

 
She gave a little moan of surrender when he eased a second finger inside her. He wanted to give her pleasure. Exquisite, extraordinary pleasure. The kind of mind-clouding pleasure that might make her forget to be wary of him and divulge what he needed to hear.

With one hand fingering her taut nipple, he plunged his tongue deep within her mouth to match his fingers ministrations. Her hips rose and she cried out again, but softly. A wither of a sound. Her breathing slowly grew raspier with each stroke of his thumb over her tightened nub, as he continued to penetrate her. Over and over he drew his fingers through the folds which guarded her pleasure until he could feel the little nub of her arousal, unmistakably firm and trembling.
 

“Rufus,” she whispered, her hands clawing the bales of hay they sat upon.

He felt her climax inching near. She was murmuring his name over and over and it fairly blew his head off. The endearment almost making him spill in his breeches, something he’d not done since a very young boy.

Her head jerked up and her breath came on a rough cry. Her hips undulated with each stroke. He felt her begin to tighten around his fingers. She was passion personified. Beautiful. Wild. Sensual. With one finger and his thumb, he opened her wider, teasing her with quick, delicate strokes until she gave a strangled cry. And then she was shaking all over, her limbs stiffening as she shuddered with her release. He kissed her slender neck as she trembled, and then nuzzled the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. Erotic. The sight and sound of her was so erotic it killed him.

He rose up and took her trembling lips in a searing kiss. He felt his heart flutter and engage in his chest. No. He forced the heady feelings down. He could not want to want her. His own needs must be denied. There was too much at stake.

Just then a commotion out by the corral made him draw back. He took in her flushed face. With a pang he realized he wished there could be more. Wished she wasn’t who he knew her to be. A woman with secrets. A possible traitor. Never again would he let himself feel for a woman involved in his mission. He would have no more deaths on his hands.

He felt tarnished at the knowledge only her seduction and complete surrender would aid in the capture the traitor. If he could he’d wish more for her.
 

He needed some fresh air. The scent of her was making him light headed.
 

“It seems another female is impatient for her mate’s touch. Please excuse me while I see to Caesar.”

How could she have let that happen? Her body tingled in the afterglow of his skillful lovemaking, quickly followed by heated shame. He’d boasted of his skills as a rake and he was not wrong. The pleasure was indescribable and to her horror it left her wanting more.

Worse. Wanting him.

Why did he unleash these strong feelings within her? He was a rake like any other.

Except, cried a tiny voice inside her, he is not like any other. His combination of beauty, wit and brains had her in a scramble. She’d not met a man who matched her in intellect. Nor one whose outer beauty made her feel, and want, naughty, forbidden delights.

Rheda was still trying to make sense of what she’d let occur when Rufus moved to exit the stable. Turning with a shrug, he looked back at her. His face was all dark shadows as he blocked the light from the doors. It was a moment before he spoke. “When I’m done, I want you to show me Fraser’s Landing.”

Rheda stiffened. “You said you knew where it was.”

He shook his head. She wished she could see the expression on his face. “I want you to show me exactly where you found the barrel.” He turned to leave calling over his shoulder, “Only then will I know if you deliberately lied to me.”

This time a shiver that had nothing to do with delicious desire slid down her spine. How could he do that? It was as if the splendor of their intimate moment had never transpired. She was still tingling all over, while the warm yearning in her feminine center continued to throb.

Rheda’s heart ached in her chest. God he was ruthless in his pursuit of the truth. And skillful. Her body stilled hummed. She tidied herself up determined to remember that she could not let his seduction weaken her resolve.

“I lied, my lord,” she whispered hoarsely under her breath. “And no matter how much you make my body sing, I’ll never tell you the truth. But I’ll play your game. I’ll let you seduce me until I’m sated with pleasure.” His seduction of her should keep him off balance and out of their business.

Invitation to Ruin – March 2011

Excerpt…

Anthony chose to ignore her remark and once they’d entered the study, Lord Wickham walked to the large windows that overlooked Cassandra’s back garden. His shoulders were tense and he seemed to lose himself in thought.

Melissa cleared her throat.

Still he did not respond.

The silence was nerve wracking.
 

“I’m sorry the situation has got so complicated. I would’ve hoped that I might have been able to talk my brother around this morning, but he was not inclined to change his mind.”

Anthony nodded, still looking out of the window.

“I’m pleased you did not take up his challenge for a duel. Getting yourself killed wouldn’t have helped anyone.” She gave a shudder. “I couldn’t bear to think I’d been the cause of anyone’s death, whether it was actually my fault or not.”

He gave her a piercing stare over his left shoulder. “No, killing your brother would not have been the solution.”

Melissa licked her lips. “Speaking of which my lord - ”

“Please, we are well beyond formality, call me Anthony.”

“Yes, well, Anthony -, ” She counted to ten. “Can’t you turn around? It’s difficult talking to someone’s back. It’s rude and very off-putting.”

His big shoulders rippled beneath his navy coat as he sighed and turned to face her.

Her breath hitched, he was so handsome. His grey eyes pinned her beneath a probing gaze. She moved, hoping to distract herself from the affect he was having on her. She crossed the room to one of the large leather armchairs and sat demurely. “I may have a solution to our situation. You do not wish to marry me – “

He raised a perfect dark eyebrow and gave her a smile that literally took her breath away. “We are getting married. I will brook no argument. I will not have the Wickham name disgraced. There has been enough scandal in my family.”

If she didn’t already have a
tendre
for him, or if she knew she could never come to love him, the marriage might have worked. But she wouldn’t dare love him while he simply saw her as a woman to bear his children, run his home, and plan his entertainments. A woman who never questioned his liaisons. In time she’d be left languishing in the country, missing him terribly, while he cavorted in London with his latest paramours. She just knew it.

Her friend Lady Sarah Campbell endured her husband’s disinterest. She bore the humiliation of his affairs and was often the subject of gossip and pity.
 

Melissa would rather not love at all, than love a man who would never love her. So it was imperative to nip this indiscretion in the bud, before she fell under his spell any further.

Melissa felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t want to marry you.”

His grey eyes darkened to the color of coal. “Am I that terrifying?”

She shook her head.

“I realize my deflowering of you could have been better, but I won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Melissa’s bottom lip quivered as she tried to forget the feel of his body holding her, or his enormous member inside her… “I have no doubt you would make a marvelous lover, but you would likely be a wretched husband.” She shrugged her shoulders, “To me anyway.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “You are right of course. I would make a terrible husband. But you forget one thing.”

“That is…”

He strolled over to her chair and looked down at her. “You have forgotten the most important thing of all. You might be with child.” The word ‘child’ seemed to stick in his throat and his eyes widened as if he was in shock. He shook himself, drew in a deep breath and added, “I am not heartless enough to leave you to face society’s wrath pregnant with my child.”

Melissa felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t thought of that. “We could wait and see if I am with child before rushing into anything.”

Anthony’s face clouded in anger, his eyes narrowed and darkened like the sky before a thunderstorm. Melissa watched the tick in his taut jaw with fascination. She’d just given him a way out yet he seemed very displeased.

“You must think I have no honor at all.”

She pleaded with him. “No, it’s not that. I think, so far, you’ve proved to be very honorable, I applaud you for it. But there is no need to sacrifice yourself for me.”

He crouched down before her chair and swallowed her hand in his. “I want to protect you from a Society that would hurt you. Why are you fighting me on this?” His eyes never left hers as he raised her hand to his lips.

A hurricane of emotions swirling around her, Melissa could hardly think. What was he up to? For a man so vehemently opposed to marriage, he seemed desperate to find reasons for the marriage to go ahead. She eyed him wearily.

That was a mistake. Her body stirred at his closeness. No man ever aroused her, the way Anthony could. Just looking at him now rekindled the delicious sparks between them. She swallowed, aware of her humming nerves, the hollow flip-flopping sensation in her stomach, and the tingling warmth between her thighs.

Before she could help herself she uttered, “I just want to be happy.”

“You’re pulse is racing, I can feel it.” His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her wrist like a feather. “At the moment what would make me extremely happy would be to lock the door and make love to you in a manner more fitting than last night’s performance. To hear your small cries of passion, to make you wet with desire, and to sink between your soft thighs and let you touch heaven.”