Lady of Seduction (25 page)

Before she could question him some more, he kissed her again and slipped out the door. He waited until he heard the lock click
into place and then hurried down the stairs. He had work to do.

Caroline sank deeper into the warm water and sighed with contentment. It had been too long since she had a proper bath. The
water and the delicious, soapy suds seemed to melt away all the tension she held in her aching shoulders. LaPlace, the vast
distance between her and Dublin—and her and Grant—it all seemed to dissolve. At least for the moment.

Grant had finally told her something of his work, but then he closed himself off all over again. He was so—infuriating! She
kicked at the water, splashing it against the side of the wooden tub. Infuriating, and yet still so maddeningly attractive.

“It’s still a long way to Dublin,” she whispered.

She sat up in the tub and reached for the bar of soap and sponge the maid left for her. The soap had a lemon smell that was
wonderful after all the dust of the road. She lifted her leg and carefully rubbed the soap over her
calf, singing, “And when will you return again, and when will we get married? When broken shells make Christmas bells…”

“Caro, I think we should…” Grant said as he came into the room without knocking. His words faded abruptly at the sight of
her in the bath, and she heard the door click shut.

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. She had never felt particularly beautiful or desirable, especially not next
to her sisters and her lovely mother. She was The Studious One, and that suited her well. But the way Grant watched her now,
all hungry and intent only on her, gave her such a thrill. It made her feel a power she had never experienced before.

And she feared she felt just as hungry when she looked at him. His shirt was unlaced, baring a deep vee of smoothly muscled
olive skin. He had washed, too, and his long hair was damp and slicked back from his face. His scars were nearly invisible
in the lamplight.

“We should—what?” she said. She slowly lowered her leg into the water and turned to face him. She rested her arms on the edge
of the tub and watched him. The air in the room had suddenly gone hot and close—it seemed to crackle against her skin.

Grant leaned back against the door. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. “I was going to say we should leave as early as possible
so we can make it to Ballylynan soon. But now I think we should stay here for a week or more if it means more baths for you.”

Caroline laughed. “It
is
nice here. I had quite forgotten how a bath can feel so wonderful.”

She turned around and held out the sponge. “Can you
wash my back for me?” she said. She held her breath. Just thinking about his touch on her skin made her shiver. She closed
her eyes and listened as he moved slowly across the room.

For a moment, he just stood behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body mere inches from hers, could hear the sound
of his breath. Would he touch her or would he not?

Just when she thought she might scream from the uncertainty of it, he took the sponge from her hand. He knelt beside the tub
and reached out to softly sweep the damp tendrils of hair from the nape of her neck.

She kept her eyes tightly closed as he traced the sponge over her skin. He drew light patterns over her shoulders and down
the line of her back, his fingers barely brushing over her. Then he leaned closer, his breath cool on her damp body. His lips
brushed over the nape of her neck, and he tasted her with his tongue.

“Grant!” she cried. She spun around to face him, and his mouth claimed hers. She met his kiss with equal fervor, full of all
the terrible, passionate longing she always felt with him. It was a primeval, overwhelming force she couldn’t deny.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him so close there could be nothing between them now. She wished she could be
even closer, that she could make him entirely hers.

Not breaking their kiss, he lifted her from the tub and held her high in his arms as she twined her legs about his hips and
rocked against him. He was hard beneath the flap of his breeches—he wanted her, too, as much as she wanted him, and that knowledge
fanned the flames
of her desire even higher. She feared she would be consumed by it, and yet at the same time, she longed to jump into that
fire headfirst and be lost.

Her lips slid to his throat and to the bare skin of his chest where his shirt fell away. The linen was quickly soaked with
her bathwater and tasted of salt-sweat, of clean sunshine, and of Grant. She wanted more and more of him, of
everything
. She became horribly greedy when it came to him.

He slowly lowered her to her feet and held her away from him. She whispered a wordless protest and reached for him.

“We have to be careful,” he said. “You’re sore after the ride today.”

“I don’t care about that,” she said. She could feel no pain at all, not now.

“I do. I won’t hurt you.” He grabbed the towel draped over a chair and knelt at her feet.

As Caroline watched in fascination, he gently reached for her foot. He dried it slowly, moving the soft linen around each
sensitive toe and up the curve of her leg. Then he kissed her ankle, traced his tongue over the arch of her foot. It tickled
and tingled and made her want to laugh and cry out all at the same time.

He did the same with her other foot, drying it then kissing the soft skin just behind her ankle. He lightly bit at it and
traced his mouth up to her knee, the back of her thigh.

“Grant…” she whispered.

“Shh,” he said. “Just be very still.”

He rose up on his knees and gently urged her thighs farther apart. With the edge of the towel, he patted dry the dark curls
between her legs and then eased the linen into
a loop around her waist and pulled her closer. He softly blew on that extra-sensitive spot.

“Grant!” she cried out. The sensation of it all was almost too much. She tried to arch her hips away from him, but he wouldn’t
let her go. And she didn’t really want to go. She wanted to stay with him, just like this, with a desperation she had never
known before.

He leaned closer and kissed her just
there
. With one hand, he held her by the makeshift bond, and with the other he spread the damp, hot folds of her womanhood so he
could kiss her even more deeply. His tongue plunged deep inside her, rough and delicate all at the same time, tasting her,
pressing at that one sensational spot. She moaned, and her fingers twined in his hair to hold him against her.

His actions were terribly intimate, somehow even more so than when they had sex, and she felt utterly open and vulnerable
to him, joined to him. Yet she also felt immensely strong and powerful. She wanted to shout out with the wonderful joy of
it all.

Grant’s mouth eased away from her to kiss the inside of her thigh. He rose up along her body and caught her around the waist,
walking her back to the bed as he kissed her mouth. He tasted of mint and ale, and scandalously of
her
, and it made her cry out against him.

The kiss tumbled into desperation as he lowered her to the mattress. Everything was hot and blurry around her, their movements
full of artless need as they held on to each other. He came down on top of her as she slid her legs higher to cradle him in
the curve of her body.

Caroline moaned again—it seemed all the sound she could make now. Her mind could hold no thoughts, only feelings, emotions
that she had kept deep down inside for
so long that they overwhelmed her now. Tears prickled at her eyes as she turned her head to the side while his open lips traced
the line of her cheekbone, her closed eyelids, and her temple where her pulse beat frantically. He bit lightly at her earlobe,
his breath hot in her ear, and she trembled.

Her hands reached under his shirt to trace the hollow of his back, the hard muscles of his shoulder. His skin was satin-smooth,
taut and damp, hard under her caress. He felt warm and vital and
alive,
and he made her feel that way, too. So vividly alive.

Her hands moved down to unfasten his breeches and take his penis into her hand. His manhood was hard and ready, and she spread
her legs wider in silent invitation. With a twist of his hips, he drove into her and buried himself to the hilt.

Caroline wrapped her legs around his waist, and they found their rhythm together, hard and fast. Her hands clutched at his
shoulders, her nails digging in as if to make him entirely a part of her, as she was of him.

That rough pleasure built inside her, and she reached out for it with all her strength. It drove her higher and higher until
she felt like she leaped off a cliff and went soaring free into the sky.

Grant let out a hoarse shout above her. A great tremor rocked through his body, and he fell down beside her.

“Caroline,” he said hoarsely. “Caroline, I never thought I could feel like this.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

And they held on to each other as they fell into a deep silence as the night closed in around them.

C
aroline lay in the circle of Grant’s arms, feeling lazy and languid. Despite the fact that they were in a strange room, far
from home, she had never felt quite so relaxed. She wanted to laugh, to roll around on the rumpled sheets, and revel in this
new feeling of freedom and release. It would be gone too soon, and she didn’t want to lose it.

From beyond their door, she could hear the sound of laughter floating up from the public room, along with the sound of instruments
tuning up. A party!

She peeked up at Grant. His eyes were closed, but his hand moved lazily up and down her back, a lightly caressing touch that
made her tremble.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

“Hear what?” he said. He swept her hair back from her shoulder and kissed her on its soft curve.

“The music, of course. I think they’re having a party downstairs.”

“I hope they enjoy it then. Just as long as they don’t carry on all night and keep me awake.”

Caroline laughed and slapped him on the arm. “You sound like my father once did! He couldn’t understand why my mother liked
to have balls at Killinan so often. He just wanted to sit by the fire with his dogs, cleaning his guns and dreaming of the
next day’s hunting.”

“Sounds very sensible to me. Why
did
she want to have balls so often?”

“Because—well, I’m not exactly sure,” Caroline admitted. “To find husbands for my sisters and me, I suppose. I usually sat
by the fire with my father, reading my books.”

“You were very sensible, too.”

“Yes. Whatever happened to me since then?” She knew very well what happened to her—Grant. He made her see that always being
sensible meant missing out on so much in life. She did miss her family and her books and writing, but she didn’t want it to
be everything she had.

She wanted to make memories, lots of them, to store up for the day when Grant was gone and things were quiet again. She wanted
to be able to take those memories out when she was alone by the fire and remember when she had an adventure. And remember
him.

“Grant,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes, Caro?”

“Do you think they will be dancing downstairs?”

He wound her hair around his wrist. “Very probably.”

“I think I’d like to dance, too.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. Somehow he had stayed cool and calm in their escape from Muirin Inish, all their travels,
and even LaPlace’s reappearance—but the fact that she might want to dance seemed to surprise him. “But you said you never
danced at parties in Dublin.”

“I was younger then. And just because I’m not especially
graceful at it, like my sisters, I enjoy a quadrille now and again.”

“I doubt they’re doing anything so organized as a quadrille down there.”

“Even better. No one will notice that I don’t really know the steps.”

“Aren’t you tired? We have to make an…”

“Early start tomorrow. I know.” She sat up and leaned over him to softly kiss his lips. He still held on to her hair, keeping
her close to him. “Just one little dance?”