Improper Seduction (6 page)

Yet Charring fully expected to get a child on her. How odd and ironic.

She turned slowly and looked about the stable.

"You needn't worry," Thomas said. "There's no one about just now."

He stepped closer, set his hands on her waist, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then took a step back, picked up a brush and set to grooming Ginger's shiny coat.

"Lord Rockham's returned," she said abruptly.

"Ay, I know."

"You cannot come to my room tonight."

He peered at her over one shoulder as he continued his work. "And what makes you think I've a mind to visit you tonight anyway? Are you that cock-sure of yourself."

"Don't," she protested, hating that he'd pulled that Irish veneer over him, that he tried to make her think last night meant nothing.

"Don't what?" he snarled. "Don't think that only a few hours ago I had my cock hilt-deep in your sweet, slick cunny? Don't think that you came nearly a half-dozen times in the few hours we were together? Came like a volcano exploding, by God!"

"Why are you so angry?"

He cursed and threw down the brush, reached for her roughly and pulled her against him. He ravaged her mouth, explored her with his tongue.

She felt the harsh scrape of his morning whiskers against her cheek and neck, but she couldn't help herself. She responded with heady passion.

Here, now, she thought. I want him now.

Chapter 12

Intuiting her thoughts, Thomas lifted her skirts and shoved her against the wooden stall. "I'm going to have you now," he ground out, "before he – before he ... " His voice trailed off as he unbuttoned his trousers and released himself.

He drove into her hard in one quick thrust and then continued to pound into her again and again. Chastity felt the pleasure-pain sensation rising between her legs. She hadn't thought she could respond to such violent need, but she met him thrust for thrust, and just as he emptied himself into her, she screamed low in her throat and matched his climax with her own.

She collapsed against him, spent, drained of every drop of energy, and wonderfully satisfied. In a stable. In the afternoon. Surrounded by the smells of hay and horses and ... Thomas. How could she return to being a proper wife after this?

#

The Baron came to her shortly after she retired for the night. She'd bathed, washed her hair, perfumed her body, and donned a sheer nightgown at Marianne's insistence. "His lordship will surely want to see you in something quite romantic, ma'am.

Chastity sighed. The little maid had stars in her eyes. Charring didn't care a whit how she was dressed. He wanted the coupling quick and efficient, and she knew he'd keep at it until he impregnated her. She was little more than a mare matched with a prized stallion – all for good breeding lines.

She resigned herself to the inevitable. God, please keep her from entertaining thoughts of Thomas during the encounter. She didn't think she could bear it. She tried to strip herself of all thought, all emotion, all sensation. She'd do her duty as she'd always done as the Baroness of Charring Manor.

She'd almost fallen asleep when she heard the fumbling at the bedchamber door. She opened her eyes, saw the broad, squat frame of the Baron. He crept like an interloper to the edge of her bed. "Awake, are you, m'dear?"

His voice held hearty affection and his breath the scent of liquor. Charring was not a bad man, she reminded herself. Whatever she owed him, he deserved compliance in this one thing.

He was dressed in a long nightshirt that covered his barrel figure to mid-calf, and when he pulled away the covers and lowered himself on top of her, she felt his cold feet brush her ankles. Without another word he grappled with her gown, pulling it up to her waist.

He reached between them, prodded at the dryness between her legs, and grunted. "Hmm." She felt him reach for himself and heard the grunts as he pumped his manhood for a moment. Then he licked the flat of his palm and transferred the wetness to her. Just a bit, she thought, to make the entry smoother. She felt a slight tug of appreciation for this small consideration.

Charring was not a bad man.

Then he drove into her without warning. She nearly yelped, but forced herself to remain still. Should she wrap her arms around him? She'd never done so before, but guilt swept over her like a rainstorm. He continued his frenetic pumping into her unresponsive body until finally he groaned loudly and collapsed heavily as he ejaculated into her.

After a moment of heavy breathing, she felt the shrinking of his shaft, and couldn't help thinking how long Thomas had remained huge and comforting inside her. How he'd cuddled her warmly in his arms. She forced the wicked thoughts from her mind.

Finally her husband rolled off her, sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and stood looking down at her. "Well done, m'dear. I'll see you again tomorrow night."

After he left, Chastity turned her face into the pillow and wept.

#

Thomas saw the strain on her face first thing the next morning when she arrived at the stables. For the first time he noticed the fine lines around her eyes. She looked exhausted, but he found his tongue tied. What could he say to her, after all? She did not belong to him.

He assisted her onto Ginger, his hand lingering on her leg. "How long before he leaves?" he asked tightly.

She didn't look at him. "Too long," she said as she rode away.

He made a point not to be in the stables when she returned. He'd finished up his duties early and trudged toward the guest cottage at the south end of the property. There was a clean, clear lake behind the structure, and although it was far too cold at this time of the year for a swim, he removed his dusty clothes and dove in.

Swimming hard he plunged through the frigid water, desperately trying to remove the image of Chastity's wan face from his mind. Expunge the ugly scenes of her submitting to her husband's demands. The sun was low in the sky when he'd spent himself and floated like a frozen log on the water's surface.

He sensed her before he heard the splash of water at the shore.

"Good God, what are you tr – trying to d – do to yourself?" Chastity's teeth chattered so hard he could hear them as she stood knee deep and naked at the edge of the lake. Her arms crossed over her breasts, more from the cold than modesty, he surmised.

"Ay, I'm tryin' to kill myself." He laughed at the glorious sight of her. She'd come to him, but he had no idea why. He began swimming toward her with long, broad strokes.

"When I was a girl," Chastity said irrelevantly, "my father tossed me in the river to teach me how to swim." She smiled with nearly blue lips.

"You learned right quick, I'll wager. Better plunge right in, get it over with."

She ducked beneath the water and rose shrieking. He' d reached her by now and embraced her tightly. "How did you know I was here?" he whispered in her ear.

"Mrs. Griffin," she said and told him what the housekeeper had intimated about the cottage.

"Really? For us? I knew there was more to Griffin than what shows on that steely exterior." When she shivered and wrapped her legs around his hips, he said, "I know a quick way to warm you up."

"Inside the cottage beside a roaring fire?" she ventured.

"No, this." He plunged into her ready body with one swift stroke and clamped his lips on one breast, teasing the nipple until it hardened in his mouth. "If you go over, if you come for me, you'll raise your body's temperature," he murmured. "Swear, 'tis true."

"Liar," she muttered with a moan as her climax washed over her like a tidal wave.

Chapter 13

"Where does his lordship think you are at this moment?" Thomas asked.

They lay on a thick carpet rolled close to the fire which he'd set blazing. Under the warm quilt they were both naked, her hair still damp from the lake.

"If he even thinks about where I am, likely writing letters in my chamber or reading in the library." Chastity eyed him through thick lashes. "I do a great deal of reading – and writing."

He knew she'd meant to make him laugh, but he felt the deep cut of duty and propriety take hold of him. Where had these emotions come from? He'd bedded many women, enjoyed the hard lust of wildly passionate ones and the sweet tenderness of shy ones.

With Chastity he felt something
more,
something that shook him to his core. Lust, yes, thank Christ for that. Hunger and a primitive need to have her again and again until they were both raw with pain.

He ran his fingers down her naked spine and felt her tremble. He had the power to make her feel this way, he realized. Not her husband. That fact both thrilled and shamed him.

"I do not want you to go back to your husband tonight," he ventured.

"You know that is impossible."

She jerked upright, clasped her arms around her knees and afforded him the full display of naked shoulders, spine and rounded ass. He wanted to sink himself into that tight ass, make her climax so often, so long, and so hard that it drove every rational thought from her mind.

"He's expecting me," she continued, "and I cannot refuse."

He trailed his fingers over her silky shoulders. "I know," he muttered, "but I dinna like the thought of his hands on you." He heard the Irish come out in his voice, knew she would recognize his emotion.

She lay back down beside him, propped her head on one hand. "I want to know something about you, Thomas. Tell me."

He didn't want to share anything personal or private with her. If he considered what they'd done together as pleasurable acts of lust and carnality, when the time came, he just might be able to let her go.

She trailed the back of her hand against his bristly cheek. "Come on. You know almost everything about me."

'Twas true. The help always knew the secret stories of the family of the manor. He knew, for example, that Chastity had come to the marriage for her lineage and breeding – old, old family – she was the daughter of aristocracy that traced its lineage back to William the Conqueror.

"I'm the son of a duke," he told her, and watched her eyes grow huge and round, bright blue orbs of wonder. Why had he blurted out that information? It'd never mattered to him before. "Born on the wrong side of the blanket, of course," he added hastily, "so it barely counts."

"Then you'll never inherit?" she asked, teasing the thick dark curls on his chest.

"Nary a penny."

"And what is this – uh, duke's – title?"

She didn't believe him, he realized, and her doubt amused him.

"Arthur Davenport, the Duke of Somerset."

"So, your name is 'Thomas Davenport'"?

"No, I took my mother's name. Unfortunately she was a poor Gypsy woman with nothing to recommend her but her beauty and her youth."

She looked up at him, a tender look on her face. "I'm sorry."

"No need for sorrow, m'lady."

"Wait! The Duke of Somerset. I know that name. He had no direct heirs, I've heard. He could've named you if he chose to," she ventured.

His mouth tightened involuntarily. "I choose not to take his name or his title."

After a moment he felt her relax beside him. "They married me to – to Charring so that he could have a pedigree and my family could have a transfusion of money into the family accounts."

Her voice sounded only a little bitter. "Even though I am
so very old
– " She punctuated each of the last three words with a poke of her slender finger to his chest. "My husband hopes to get an heir."

"Bartered and sold like so much horse flesh?"

She smiled. "Exactly. And the price was steep." She laughed. "I'm a very expensive catch."

"Why did they wait until you were far past marriageable age?"

"They wanted the best bargain they could find," she mused aloud. "And I was always an obedient child. And an only child. I suppose the years passed while they wasted the family money and had nothing left to barter with but – but me."

"You should be screaming and shouting about it," he muttered. "You don't even sound angry."

She lifted one slender shoulder. "It's done."

With regal grace she climbed on top of him and began kissing him in the most arousing places. "And now I've got you."

Thomas liked when she play the role of aggressor. He felt his control slip second by second. She was getting quite good at it, but he had much yet to teach her. When he reached for his cock, it sprang to attention between his legs.

"I want to take it into my mouth," she whispered in his ear. "I want my mouth on you like yours was – on me."

He groaned. "Yes."

"Show me how."

"You need no tutoring, it seems," he growled.

She explored the tip of him, licking gingerly around the head. "Hmm, salty." She wrapped her hand around his shaft and pumped it up and down, timidly as first, but faster as he covered her hand with his to instruct. He thrust his hips in time to her motions.

Then she took him into her mouth as deep as she could, he knew, and drew him out agonizingly slowly, only to slide her tongue back up to the head and swirl it around in a tantalizing rhythm. She kept it up quite nicely for someone who was so inexperienced.

Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he flipped her around so that she sat on his chest and her head faced his upthrust and defiant-looking cock.

He nearly laughed, but was struggling too hard not to spew himself into her mouth. "A minute, give me a minute to catch my breath."

She paused a moment, looked at him over his shoulder. "You're so soft and silky. I never realized ... "

"God's blood, m'lady, you'll unman me!"

"Realized," she pondered slowly as she worked him with her hand and her mouth, "how utterly delightful a man's body can be."

Chapter 14

Thomas pushed at her spine, bending her forward until her mouth closed over him again and she took his bollocks in her hands, gently squeezing them, bringing him unbearably intense pleasure. He pulled her legs down beside his torso so she lay upside down on top of his body. He had a perfect view of her pale, rounded ass.