Under the Boardwalk: A Dazzling Collection of All New Summertime Love Stories (30 page)

She looked at him over her shoulder. "How did I get myself in this mess?"

"Come back to bed, Sydney," he said, rising to draw her back against his broad chest. He began to massage her neck with his hands. There was magic in his touch, and she responded to it.

"I'll join a nunnery," she thought aloud. "Do they take ruined Protestants into convents nowadays?"

He ran his bare foot up and down the inside of her calf. The friction made her feel faint. His long fingers circled her belly button, tickling her and teasing. Sydney couldn't hold out much longer.

She began to shake. The bells were pealing wildly now. She wondered if they were prophesying her downfall, which appeared to be imminent. "I'll throw myself at the Mother Superior's mercy. I'll say I was seduced by the devil—"

He walked her backward into the bed. She fell straight back and he followed, pinning her down beneath him. His eyes glittered in the dark, proclaiming victory.

"You'll have to put some clothes on first," he whispered, blowing in her ear. "You can't go to a nunnery naked."

Sydney blinked. "That's a good point."

Naked or not, she wasn't going anywhere at all, he thought arrogantly. But women needed soothing at a time like this. They needed gentling.

"Poor Sydney," he said. "I'll make everything all right. I'll take care of you."

She closed her eyes. They were both exhausted from fighting the storm.

Rylan glanced at the pendulum clock on the night-stand. Almost eleven. He doubted that the ghost-layers would meet tomorrow on the moor. The storm would probably keep them away.

The damn bells were still ringing, though. He frowned, watching the wind stir the curtains. He ought to investigate, but he couldn't tear himself away from the bed. He wouldn't leave until Sydney was bonded to him in every way, and she was so close to trusting him.

He lowered himself next to her and wrapped her securely in his arms. "You probably shouldn't touch me again," she whispered. "Not if I'm going to become a nun."

"You're not," he said, smiling at the thought.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Sydney gasped and opened her eyes in alarm. Rylan kept her locked firmly in place.

"My lord?" It was the housekeeper. "Is all well with you? Do you want tea and towels?"

"What do we do?" Sydney whispered.

"Pretend to be asleep." Rylan gave a loud unconvincing snore.

"This is so embarrassing," Sydney whispered, staring at the door.

There was a long pause.

"Shall I launder the clothes you dropped on the kitchen floor, my lord?" the housekeeper asked in a curt voice that told them she knew exactly what was going on in that room.

Sydney smothered a snort of laughter. "She knows," she whispered. "You'd better leave right now."

Rylan grinned, refusing to move. He was silent as the housekeeper finally walked away, obviously resigned to the situation.

Rylan didn't intend to leave, and he didn't want anybody to intrude on what he had just found. God help him, he wanted to keep Sydney to himself as long as he could.

This lonely, wind-swept cove was his retreat from the world. So was the woman who had been brought to him. He had everything he needed now to be happy.

For three more hours he was in heaven. He made love to Sydney with words and with his hands and mouth. He kissed every inch of her body until there wasn't a nerve ending beneath her skin that didn't respond to his sensual expertise.

He rubbed his unshaven cheeks across her breasts like a caress. He explored the secret places of her body without inhibition, preparing her for pleasure.

"I'll never be a nun now," Sydney said with a sigh.

"No." Rylan pinned her down and spread her legs wide, his own body so ready he hurt with it. "But you'll be my wife, and I'll take you naked and ruined any time you ask."

Then he lowered himself between her legs, and the matter was taken out of her hands. There was nothing but the power of his body and the sexual initiation he showed her. There was nothing but a rush of sweet pain as he embedded himself inside her, piercing so deeply that for a moment a red haze filled her mind and stole her breath. Then slowly it eased.

He kissed her face, murmuring tenderly. He laid his cheek against hers and told her how sorry he was that he'd hurt her. Then Sydney dared run her fingers up his chest, tracing the iron-hard muscles that tightened at her touch. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, moving inside her again, deep sensual strokes that pressed her into the bed. For a moment Sydney felt as if he would impale her with his shaft. He was big, and she felt herself stretching to accept him. Her back arched before she could stop the instinct. He raised his head, growling in approval, past listening to anything she might have said.

He slid his hands under her bottom, forcing their bodies even closer together. He ground his mouth down on hers and tasted the groan she gave. In a hazy corner of his brain he knew he must be hurting her again. But he couldn't control the pumping of his hips any more than he could control the waves that pounded the cove.

He was driven to possess her, and he'd never felt anything as good as her tight little body in his life. She was shaking and laughing and sobbing, but he didn't stop. He just moved slower. He sank inside and pulled away, setting a pattern that left her whimpering with pleasure. He teased her like this until she stiffened, and then convulsed in a climax that was the most sensual act Rylan had ever seen.

"Oh, my God, Sydney." He grinned in triumph; he felt every spasm that rocked her. Her response drew him over the edge; he too was falling, ready to explode. He was trembling and pushing inside her, not able to bury himself deep enough. He was thrusting and groaning like a man possessed.

His orgasm shook him to the core. He pumped and pumped, compelled by a force so powerful he knew he would frighten her. But it was Sydney who had unleashed the beautiful fury. It was sweet innocent Sydney who had shown him that every sexual encounter he'd ever experienced before had been a shadow, a charade, compared to this.

Sydney listened to the waves crashing outside the window. She heard the deep, satiated rhythm of Rylan's breathing. She felt the heavy warmth of his leg locked over hers. He didn't want her to forget, even in his sleep, that she belonged to him. Not that she could. There wasn't any inch of her body that didn't bear his brand.

The bells outside had just stopped ringing.

Some poor soul had probably been washed ashore to ruination.

And Sydney had just been rescued from marriage to a man she did not love and who, evidently, had never loved her.

She touched Rylan's face, snuggling against his muscular chest, her solace and seductor.

It had taken the first shipwreck to bring her to the man of her dreams.

The second shipwreck had brought her to her senses.

She hadn't been asleep for long, maybe only a few minutes, when Sydney heard a voice calling her name. She ignored it for as long as she could. Rylan had worn her out, and she did not want to move.

She opened her eyes, wondering drowsily if he were calling her in his sleep. His relaxed body imprisoned her: his huge leg was locked over her at the knee, his arms were hooked around her waist, and his chin rested on her shoulder. She shivered as she remembered how fiercely he had possessed her. She, who had never been touched by another man, had been taken from head to toe.

"Sydney!" the insistent voice called again. "Sydney, are you up there?"

It was Peter standing below the window. Sydney eased out of bed, full of dread, and hurried to look. He was standing between the rocks and boulders below, drenched to the teeth.

"Let me in the house, Sydney," he demanded when he saw her shocked face. "I have come to rescue you."

"Oh, dear." She glanced in trepidation at Rylan stirring in the bed. "Can you come back in a few hours, Peter?" she whispered. "It's the middle of the night."

"Come back?" he said indignantly. "Audrey has told me everything. I'm not going to leave you in this den of vice another minute. Meet me at the door, Sydney."

"Keep your voice down, Peter. You'll disturb his lordship's hounds."

Rylan sat up, rubbing his eyes. For a moment Sydney was distracted by the sight of him, a big sensual beast who had made her his own a short while ago. A frisson of desire went through her, disturbing in its power. She remembered the way she had responded to him during the night. The way she responded now as his gaze traveled over her body in patent ownership. She quivered, aware of the sweet throbbing between her thighs, evidence of his possession.

"I love you so much," he said with his irresistible grin. "Come back to bed. I'm missing you."

"Sydney," Peter whispered through his teeth. "Get down here now."

"Just a bloody minute," she said, turning back to the window.

Rylan raised a dark eyebrow. "Cranky, aren't we? Come back to bed and eat some apple pie. You're going to need your strength for what I have in mind."

The sheet slipped off his shoulder, revealing a sinewy torso of steel. He gave her a heavy-lidded look. Sydney caught her breath, seduced by the primal desire in his eyes. The man had far too much power over her. But she would learn, she vowed. She would make him plead for her touch, too.

"I'll feed you, Sydney," he said in a husky voice.

"Are you coming or not?" Peter hissed.

She swallowed a groan. "I have to put on my robe first."

Rylan gave a chuckle. "What for? And why are you shouting, Sydney? You'll have the Chynoweths pounding at the door to rescue you."

Sydney looked down at Peter again.

He was hugging himself in the wind. His face looked blue. She could practically see icicles forming on his ears. "S-S-Sydney."

She shut the window and approached the bed. "Rylan, what would you do if Peter showed up on the doorstep and demanded I go away with him?"

He took a deep swallow of brandy. His eyes gleamed with anger. "Kill him on the spot."

She nodded slowly. "That's what I thought. Rylan, I'm going to run downstairs for a few minutes."

He hooked his fist around her knee and drew her to the bed. "Why?"

"To—to get plates for the pie."

He pulled her onto her knees beside him. He ran his callused fingertips up and down her spine. Sydney drew a breath, shaking with desire. "I don't know if I can stand being away from you that long," he whispered in her ear.

A pebble bounced off the windowsill. Rylan glanced up, his eyes narrowed.

"Listen to that wind." Sydney slid off the bed and grabbed her dressing robe before she could succumb to him again. "Wait here."

He stretched back on the bed like a muscular animal awaiting its prey. "I don't have anything to wear except my drawers. Bring some clothes from my room on your way back, Sydney. And hurry. I want you back soon."

She threw on her robe and rushed downstairs. Frankenstein greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, tail thumping in recognition. The animal, accustomed to its master's nocturnal ramblings, obviously thought they were going to have an adventure.

The dog's friendly demeanor turned to one of aggression, however, when Sydney opened the door to let Peter in from the cold.