Under the Boardwalk: A Dazzling Collection of All New Summertime Love Stories (29 page)

Rylan stared down at her wet, shivering body and decided he was no better than an animal. Only an animal would consider having sex at a time like this. Her chemise was torn at one shoulder. Her pantalettes were soaked to the skin. Even in the dark he could see the perfect contours of her breasts and the cleft of her shapely backside. The way her underwear was sheathed to her skin was more sexual than sheer nudity.

And she was still bound to him at the waist, a position he found wildly erotic and to his liking.

He touched her shoulder. He couldn't help it. Then he leaned down and kissed her, rubbing his cheek in her hair. Now that he wasn't worried about saving her life, he felt the most peculiar mingling of gratitude and lust, and he realized he loved her as he'd loved nothing before. He thought suddenly about the Blue Knight and wondered if he'd ever even existed, and for the first time he felt a stirring of sympathy for the man.

"I'll have to carry you the rest of the way. Sydney, do you hear me?"

Sydney was too exhausted to move. His lips felt wonderful, and she welcomed the warmth of his body; even the spark of desire deep inside her felt good because it told her they were still alive. "My life is ruined," she said, letting out another loud moan. "How will I explain this?"

"I can't let him have you back," he said, leaning down even lower. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head for emphasis, but in fact he didn't look particularly sorry about the situation to Sydney. If anything, he looked pleased with himself, as if he'd plotted everything from the shipwreck to the storm, as if her life were another chapter in one of his infamous books and he'd created her for his private enjoyment.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might love him?" she asked in annoyance.

He grinned. "Not for a moment. Not after the way you snuggled up to me last night."

Sydney flushed, tempted to shove him off the rock. She surveyed his wide shoulders and bare chest with a sigh. He'd thrown his leg over her hip as if to anchor her. She had a feeling he wasn't ever going to let her go, that he meant what he'd said. She had never felt so safe and so threatened at the same time.

"I doubt any duke in his right mind would want me if he saw us sitting on a rock together in our drawers," she said with a sigh.

"I want you." He laid his hand on her belly. "Very, very badly."

She sat up slowly, trying to pretend she hadn't heard him. "I think my toes are turning blue."

Rylan kissed her again, slow and deep.

Sydney shivered and kissed him back, hauling him back down on top of her. "But only because I'm freezing," she whispered.

The small crowd on the cliffs cheered in the rain.

The kiss had added spice to the legend.

Rylan learned something that night.

He discovered how difficult it was to carry a woman up a cliff when he had an erection. Her breasts kept bobbing against his bare chest, and her head was wedged under his chin. Her wet body was plastered to his. Torture, every step was sweet torture.

She had wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from sliding, her ankles locked together behind his back.

Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed her stranglehold on his private region. But it was bone-numbing cold, and he was, after all, ascending a precarious path carved into a cliff in total darkness.

He plunked her down amid the brambles and twisted elms outside the house. She was an adorable mess. "Do you want me to run in and get you a cloak to cover you up before anyone see us?"

Sydney clenched her chattering teeth together. "N-no. T-too cold."

"Oh, Sydney," he said. Then he kissed her again because he didn't know when he'd have another chance. He kissed her until neither of them felt the bitter wind blowing through the garden. He rubbed his large hands possessively down her back, over her breasts and her soft little bottom, and Sydney didn't even try to stop him because she was a lump of melting ice and his touch was bringing her back to life.

A low chuckle of victory escaped him. The reluctant grin on her face reassured him again that she felt the same way he did, that she knew they were made for each other. She'd been washed up on his beach by a power stronger than either of them could fight.

And he would fight to keep her.

He just didn't realize the chance would come as soon as it did.

There was no one in the house. The Chynoweths had presumably been standing on the cliff with the others to watch the rescue and probably everyone was still there talking about it and embellishing the story.

Sydney said a silent prayer of gratitude to be spared the embarrassment of parading through the hallway like Adam and Eve. She couldn't imagine how she'd explain this to Peter—or to her parents, for that matter.

She ran upstairs to hide. Rylan made a detour into the kitchen for a few meat pasties, a bottle of brandy, and a huge apple pie.

He burst into the bedroom a minute after Sydney did, humming in good humor. He kicked the door shut behind him, locked it, and laid his feast on the night-stand.

He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously delighted with the way everything had turned out. At least Sydney assumed he was grinning. She couldn't tell for sure because she was hiding under the covers.

"Hungry?" he said.

Rylan peeled the covers from her clenched fingers. She was right about the grin. The good-looking devil obviously thought almost drowning was an experience to laugh about.

"Rylan, you're going to catch your death. You're still in your drawers."

"I know." He winked at her. "But I really don't see any point in getting dressed." Then he gathered Sydney in his arms and kissed her, his powerful arms bracketing her body as he began the complicated process of lowering her inhibitions.

Sydney sank into the quilt. His kiss was so deep and intimate that she couldn't defend herself. He drew her lower lip between his teeth, biting gently. Her whole body softened, and a melting sensation swirled in her stomach. His mouth plundered hers until she felt like she was drowning all over again. Only this time Rylan wouldn't save her; he was dead set on ruining her.

"Oh, Sydney." His husky voice was the most arousing sound she had ever heard. "I knew I would make you mine the moment I saw you at the cove."

"Don't say that, Rylan," she whispered.

He rubbed his palm over her breast, squeezing the pink tip between his thumb and finger. It puckered at his touch. "Why not?"

"Because—oh, just kiss me again."

Rylan didn't need to be asked twice. He took her face in his hands, and his mouth claimed hers, tasting her sweet little sigh of surrender. Kissing was only a prelude to what he wanted. It only whet his appetite for more. He thrust his tongue against hers. He needed to be inside her, the deeper the better.

He released a groan into her mouth and wedged his knee between her long white legs. She shuddered at the contact, realizing how vulnerable she was. He slipped his hands under her bottom and molded her body to his, whispering, "That's better. Oh, God, Sydney," he said thickly. "I have to feel you against me. I can't get close enough."

They fit together so well. Sydney waited and wondered why she didn't give way to panic.

"Don't do that, Rylan," she whispered, twisting upward into him.

"Why not?" he said hoarsely.

"Because it feels too good."

He chuckled. "I know what feels even better."

"Rylan."

He moved his mouth down her arched throat to her breasts. He suckled on one nipple through her silk chemise, drawing the peak between his teeth. Sydney's breath caught on a sob. And when he began to move his mouth down to her belly to the cleft between her legs to taste her, she couldn't find the strength to breathe at all. She shook and felt sensations too intense to fight. She was powerless to stop him.

"Sydney?" He raised his face appealingly to hers. The raw sexuality in his deep blue eyes ravaged her to the core. He knew that she would let him do anything now he wished. "Isn't this nice?"

She stifled a whimper. She was trembling too much to talk, she could barely think, and her flesh was throbbing where his tongue had teased her. A door slammed downstairs. She could hear the Chynoweths in the kitchen, and Sydney knew that she would be a thoroughly ruined woman when she saw them again.

"Let me eat you, Sydney." His smile was both angelic and sinful. "Please."

She would probably faint of shame before the night ended… if she didn't faint of pleasure first.

She closed her eyes, groaning. "Go away, Rylan."

"I can't go away." He traced his forefinger down into the slit of her pantalettes, probing the folds of her flesh. His finger slid into her damp crevice. Her belly quivered in response. "This is my house."

"Then leave the room," she said, biting her lip to keep from whimpering again, which would only end up encouraging him.

"I can't do that either. I don't have anything on except my drawers. My housekeeper is a decent woman."

"So was I until I came here." She sat up with a moan of remorse. "And I'm an engaged woman. In fact, I'm still wearing Peter's ring—a priceless family heirloom."

Rylan reached up for her hand, lightly tugging at her finger. The ring came off. He flicked it in the air and it went flying out the window, landing with a loud
plink
in the rocks below. He grinned in surprise. "Oh, dear. Look what happened."

His arrogance amazed her. "That was my betrothal ring."

His white teeth nipped her thigh. His tongue quickly soothed the stinging bites he left behind. Sydney clutched his shoulders, pressing the soles of her feet into the bed. "The ring didn't fit you, or it wouldn't have come off like that," he said with a matter-of-fact smile. "Mine will be there to stay. Forever."

He lowered his head. Sydney's moan of self-pity was cut short by the muted clamor of bells ringing across the cliffs.

It was a frantic, wild sound, a warning in the wind.

"What is that?" she whispered.

Rylan looked up to the window, but he didn't loosen his possessive hold on her hips. His eyes were glazed with pleasure. His expression said he didn't give a damn what happened beyond this bed.

"Just another unwary outlander being led to ruination," he murmured, his mind on other, more interesting matters.

"Another shipwreck?" Sydney's eyes widened. "Aren't you going to take action?"

"I will if you'll hold still long enough."

She wriggled off the bed and ran to the window to look outside. Rylan sighed, reaching for the bottle of brandy. His body pulsated with arousal, but it looked as if he still had a little work to do before he wore down her defenses.

"It's too dark to see if there's a ship in distress," she said. She paused, deep in thought. She looked delicious with her long hair drying in serpentine curls over her scantily clad body. Rylan ground his teeth to keep from dragging her back on the bed. He could smell her on his skin and on his sheets.

She sighed. "I suppose the best thing to do is to be honest with Peter. I'll beg his forgiveness."

Rylan frowned, lowering the bottle from his mouth. The only begging she would do was to him, tonight. "Like hell you will. Do you really think that I brought you to my bed so that a snake could have you afterward? I don't even want to hear you say his name again."