To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone (18 page)

She was unprepared for the explosion of
feeling that swept her body when his knuckles skimmed the upper
swells of her breasts. She gasped against his mouth but he kept on
kissing her, arousing with firm tender stokes of his tongue, slowly
driving, deliciously plundering.

She wanted to move closer, to climb right in
him and take that which had been denied her for so long. He shifted
and through her skirts she felt the pressure of his sinewy thigh
against her femininity. At the same time his hand moved lower to
mould and cup her aching breast.

Her moan was decidedly audible within the
quiet of the stable, but she was beyond caring as the feverish
surge of pleasure overwhelmed her. When his fingertips discovered
her nipple through her bodice, fire streaked through her limbs,
flooding her veins with shuddering heat.

She could feel the wildness stirring in her
blood. It clamored for this captivating man’s erotic assault on her
senses. He was driving her mad, encouraging her response and taking
her to a place she longed to go.

He was seducing her. And she was content to
let him.

Yet, it was his tenderness that stunned her
the most. She could feel how he was holding back his own strength
and needs. Needs? She could feel the hard, extremely large evidence
of his arousal against her stomach. Merciful heaven, what was she
doing? A desperate voice protested in her head, more was
dangerous.

He was dangerous.

Danger had never been more tantalizing.

Rufus lifted his mouth from hers. He
struggled to get his breathing under control. “See what you do to
me, Rheda? I’m as eager as my stallion.”

“I’m not doing anything to you. From what
little I know of your reputation you’d be eager for any woman. You
are merely trying to seduce me.”

“Yes. I am,” he admitted, “and it’s
working.”

He caught her blink of surprise at his
admission and boast. She cut her gaze away, and he stood mesmerized
by the swallow of her throat. “Your touch… it does excite me.” She
turned to look into his eyes. “But a seasoned rake such as you
knows that. The signs are there for your senses to see and
feel.”

Rufus shook his head to clear it of his
driving need to possess her. He could take her, here and now. He
knew it and the beauty before him knew it too. Yet, he felt
dissatisfied. Where was the honor in her surrender? He was too
skilled for her to resist and having seen the primal mating of the
horses her blood was stirred.

Yet, he had to push her. Had to try and
break down her resolve. He would not make love to her here even
though his body hurt from his restraint. He wanted the first time
with Rheda to be in a bed – his bed. Not in a stable reeking of
manure and horses. He wanted to take his time, overwhelm her with
pleasure and ensure she fell completely under his thrall.

He would enslave her body. Make her crave
his touch. Make her lose her mind in pleasure. Then perhaps she’d
be more pliable. Perhaps she’d do anything to share his bed again,
including letting her guard down and giving him what he really
wanted – information.

The only problem was that each time he
kissed her, what he wanted changed. Metamorphosed into something
dangerous. Retrieving much needed intelligence began to diminish as
his desire to claim her rose to a crescendo beating loudly through
his veins.

He lifted his hand and stroked the back of
his knuckles along her cheek.

Her sweep of fair lashes lowered, fanning
across her warm skin.

“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.

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.