Outrageous

by Minerva Spencer

  “Oh, Eva.”

  “Shut up.” The words came from between gritted teeth.

  In spite of his mortification at how he’d just brutalized an innocent, he couldn’t help being amused at her very Eva-like response.

  “Why did you lie?” The words were harsher and more accusatory than he’d intended, but there was all-out war occurring in his body and it was the best he could manage. His mind reeled against the implications of taking an innocent so roughly, but his body required every ounce of restraint to keep it from pulling out and then slamming back in. Repeatedly.

  “I lied because there would have been this. Must we talk and talk and talk now?” Fury and frustration and desire pulsed in her voice.

  Godric gave a shaky sigh, and then—weak, worthless lout that he was—he began to pull out.

  She gave a low groan and he froze.

  “Does it hurt when I move?”

  “No.” It was more a grunt than a word, and he wasn’t sure he believed it. But then she lifted her hips, retaking the part of him he’d just removed.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  Godric’s body obeyed her order even before his sex-drugged mind had finished translating the words. He pulled almost all the way out, pulsing his head in the tight ring of muscle and making her whimper and squirm, before gliding all the way back in.

  The noise she made was quite the most sensual sound he’d ever heard.

  She was wet—soaking wet—and the sound of labored breathing and wet coupling filled the room, their mingled scent primal. Cognizant of her condition—in spite of whatever bravado she might show—he stroked into her slow and steady, working her gently until she began to soften and relax beneath him.

  She made small noises with each thrust, her hands tightening on his shoulders each time he pulled out, as if to keep him inside. She might never have engaged in the act of coitus before, but her body knew what to do, and she clenched and released in rhythm with his strokes.

  “Yes, Eva. That feels so good,” he praised as he lowered himself to one elbow and slid a hand between them, his thrusts slowing but his cock penetrating her more deeply. “I want to feel your body when you reach your climax.” She tightened at his words and he rewarded her with a deeper stroke, his thumb finding her hard peak and massaging the sensitive base, caressing her tiny organ until she began to shudder.

  “Godric!” She thrashed and uttered nonsense words, her passage becoming even tighter as he worked her toward orgasm. And what a climax it was.

  She contracted around him so hard it was painful. Godric grunted and grew still, his jaws clenched tightly as she came in seemingly endless waves, clinging to his shoulders with a grip that would leave bruises on his bruises. Her dark eyes were wide in the flickering light of the dying candle, her body jerking and inner muscles spasming in ever weaker contractions.

  When her eyelids drifted closed and her taut body relaxed, he began to move.

  Encouraged by her soft moan of pleasure, Godric worked her with deep, thorough thrusts, hilting himself each time. He gloried in the sheer masculine dominance of the action, filling and claiming her over and over, the erotic joining as old as humankind.

  His eyes never left her beautiful, blissful face as his hips began pounding her with increasingly savage thrusts. When he reached the brink of control, he pulled from her body and pumped himself with his fist, spending in hot, lazy ropes on her belly.

  He’d not even enjoyed the last spasm of pleasure when a voice in his head said, Well, now you’ve done it.

  Chapter 15

  Godric cleaned them both with a damp cloth and then lay down beside her, his big body causing the mattress to tip and roll her toward him.

  When she scrabbled to hold on and stay on her side, a warm hand gripped her chin and tilted her face toward him. His expression was stern and she could see the questions lurking behind the haze of pleasure that still tinted his eyes.

  Eva scowled, no matter how much she loved the feel of his hands on her body. “You are going to be tiresome and scold, aren’t you?”

  A small, surprised laugh slipped out of him. “You say that as if you overspent your pin money or recklessly crammed your hunter.”

  Eva shrugged.

  “I might have hurt you—did that not occur to you?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps I might have liked to have some say in whether I deflowered an innocent—I suppose that didn’t occur to you, either.”

  She felt as if he’d slapped her, and before she could restrain herself, she shoved him back with all her strength.

  The surprising action, combined with his injuries—bruises so horrid and dark and pervasive she could see them even by low light— sent him tumbling backward, and off the bed. He landed with a huge, dull thump that made the pictures on the wall clatter.

  Eva flew out of bed and ran around to his side; he lay on his back, his eyes closed, motionless.

  She dropped down beside him. “Godric? Godric!” She roughly shoved his shoulder and he opened his eyes. “Did you hurt your head? Are you stunned?”

  His answer was to grab her waist and bodily lift her with an agonized groan. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath as he positioned her so that she was straddling his body. They were both naked, so the feeling was quite singular.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked again, forcing her mind away from the spot where they were touching.

  “Yes. I’m in agony.”

  She pursed her lips and was about to punch his shoulder when he caught her hand. “Ah-ah-ah, throwing me off the bed is quite enough abuse for tonight.” Eva shifted a little and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Yes, that’s much better.”

  Her face heated when he gently pulsed his hips, the friction delicious. It was ridiculous to blush and feel self-conscious, considering how wantonly she’d behaved only a few minutes earlier.

  “Why did you hurl me off the bed?”

  She shrugged and he pushed his hips up against her; it was her turn to gasp.

  “Come, Eva. I think that is the least you owe me—some sort of explanation. What did I do, yet again, to make you so angry?”

  It was just so very mortifying.

  He pushed his hips up again and again, his expression teasing. “I’ll torment you until you tell me.”

  “If this is your idea of torment, you will have to do it for a very long time.”

  He laughed. “Well, I’m afraid this is all I’ll be capable of doing for some time—an hour at the least.”

  Eva suspected he was making a joke about something sexual, but she’d exposed her ignorance enough for one night.

  “Speak,” he ordered.

  “I know you said you didn’t want to do this.” She gestured to them.

  He stopped his distracting pulsing and his smile slid away. “I didn’t want to do what?”

  “You said you didn’t want me—this way.” Good God, was he going to force her to lay out the entire humiliating conversation?

  “What? I would never have said that. Lord, how would such a thing have even come up in conversation?”

  Eva ignored the elated leap in her stomach, and lower. “You said you’d not p-put a child in me.”

  He grimaced. “Ah, yes, that.”

  “Yes, that.”

  “Just because I don’t want children doesn’t mean I don’t want this.” He thrusted suggestively.

  “You mean—”

  “Very much so,” he said before she had to explain. His hands slid around her wrists and held her, his thumbs stroking the soft underside. “You must be stark raving mad if—” He stopped, grimaced, and said, “Bloody hell. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t. It’s just a turn of phrase, Godric. I’m not so stupid that I don’t know that,” she said irritably. “What were you saying? I must be stark raving mad if what?”

  “If you ever believed I didn’t want you like this,” he said, his words a sm
iling echo of hers. “You are an extremely desirable woman, Eva. And sometimes, just occasionally, mind—when you are not throwing me off beds or pointing pistols at me—I find that I like you very well, indeed.”

  Eva was glad it was dark enough to hide what was surely an extremely red face. “Oh?”

  He nodded and pulled her toward him, his hands like manacles around her wrists. “Yes, oh.” Their lips met in a lazy, languorous kiss that lacked the intensity of earlier, but offered her far more opportunity for exploration.

  He grunted and moaned approvingly as she learned the shape and feel of him, allowing her to explore all she wanted as his hands softly stroked her back, sides, and bottom.

  When she finally came up for air, he was gazing up at her from beneath heavy lids, his lips slick and bruised and split on the one side. Which reminded her. “Aren’t I hurting you—sitting on you like this?”

  “Yes, but haven’t you figured out yet that I like pain.”

  Eva met his teasing grin with a smile of her own. “I’m beginning to think there may be more than a few shingles loose,” she admitted.

  He laughed and Eva suddenly realized just how much she’d come to enjoy his company over the past few days. He was not at all as she’d believed him to be—stodgy and cruel and unpleasant. Instead he was amusing, surprising, and often kind. And he was also very, very good at this.

  Unwonted, the memory of his hand on Mrs. Crosby and her hand on his waist came back like a bucket of cold water.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, reaching up to cup her face. “What is it now? I’m not letting you up until you tell me.”

  “You and Mrs. Crosby,” she blurted.

  “Ahhh.” One of his eyebrows—the one over the unswollen eye—cocked in a particularly annoying fashion.

  “Godric. You can’t ask me questions about things that annoy or upset me and then mock me when I answer you.”

  His expression was instantly serious and he took her shoulders in his hands, holding her firmly. “You’re quite right, Eva. So which one of the things is Mrs. Crosby—the kind of thing that upsets you, or the kind that annoys you?”

  “Both,” she retorted, pulling herself free and sitting up.

  He sighed and then laced his hands behind his head, wincing slightly, reminding her they were still on the floor. “Do you want to get up on the bed?”

  “In a moment. First let me put your suspicious mind at rest. I was not engaging in a clandestine amorous tussle with Mrs. Crosby. As much as I dislike telling tales regarding any woman, she approached me and put her hand on my face; when I removed it, she put her other on my side. That is when you arrived.” He smiled at her and then shook his head, his eyes going vague. “I don’t know what is wrong with her—or Norton, for that matter.”

  “Why, what do you mean?”

  “Only that Norton is more nervous than a sack of cats and Mrs. Crosby won’t stop flinging herself at me as if I were the most fascinating man in England.”

  “I thought you were the most fascinating man in England.”

  His eyes moved back to hers and his smile returned. “Oh, why, thank you, darling.”

  “I didn’t say I thought that—but I thought you did.”

  “That’s because I am,” he admitted mildly.

  “Well, then you should be accustomed to women flinging themselves at you.”

  “I am, but not usually in the first ten minutes. Mrs. Crosby has been quite insistent since the moment I opened my eyes.”

  “Perhaps she is just bored? After all, there isn’t much going on and Mr. Norton isn’t exactly a stimulating conversationalist.”

  “True. But something still feels . . . off. Or perhaps I’m just imagining things.”

  “No,” Eva said, weak with relief that he’d been entertaining similar suspicions to hers. “I’ve felt the same thing. Do you think Mr. Norton is nervous because he thinks Flynn will find out we are here?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “But Flynn let us go—surely he wouldn’t be angry that we took shelter here. Indeed, what else could we do in such weather and with bridges down all over the place?” And you unable to speak or move?

  “That is rational, my dear, but I’m not so sure Flynn is entirely rational.”

  Eva thought back to Flynn’s maddened expression when he was hauling his battered brother-in-law away and had to agree.

  “Well, I suppose the good news is that nobody knows what anyone is doing in this wretched weather.”

  He met her eyes, his own serious. “Yes, that’s a very good point. Even so, I think we should keep our wits about us, and I want you to tell me if you see anything odd.” He hesitated and then said, “It might be nothing, so don’t mention it to Andrew, who doesn’t look the sort to be capable of obfuscation. I’d hate for him to let anything slip to our hosts.”

  Eva worried her lip and then opened her mouth to tell him about Andrew and the promise she’d extracted earlier.

  “What?” he asked.

  She looked down into his battered face and saw how heavy and weary his one good eye looked. She shook her head. “Nothing.” She’d told Andrew they should step up and take some responsibility, and so they should.

  “Well,” he said, sitting up, “I’m about to seize into a knot on this damp, cold floor.”

  Eva stood and then offered him a hand.

  “It’s a sign of my decrepitude that I’m seriously considering taking your hand.” He grunted and groaned his way to his feet without her assistance. “But thank you for the offer.” He seized her by the hips, his hands moving at a speed she wasn’t expecting. He jerked her against him, their damp skin making a soft slapping sound.

  “My parents always said I should be respectful and offer to help my elders,” she gasped against him.

  He grinned, a flash of white teeth the last thing she saw before the candle stub stuttered and gradually died. “I can already see you are going to be a great comfort to me in my dotage.” He hoisted her up onto the bed.

  “Godric, you really should use the bed, you’re far too tall for the cot.”

  The bed shifted beside her. “Who said anything about either of us sleeping on the blasted cot? Besides,” he said, his arm unerringly finding her waist in the dark and snaking around her, pulling her tight to his long, hard body, “I’m not tired. Hasn’t anyone ever told you the aged require very little sleep?”

  Eva smiled into the darkness, happier than she could recall being—perhaps ever. “It just so happens I’m not tired, either.”

  “Oh? The exuberance of youth.” He molded her back so closely to his front she could feel the strong, insistent beat of his heart in her own body. “However shall we keep ourselves occupied, I wonder?”

  She pressed her bottom against him and he purred.

  “Ah, yes, that. Well, I might have mentioned I require a bit of recovery. So we have a good thirty minutes left to kill. Shall I light a candle and read you a bit of The Orphan of the Rhine?”

  Eva chuckled. “Oh Lord no, is that really the title?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He nuzzled her neck, his warm lips and the cool tip of his nose against her spine making her shiver.

  “Did you really read Gothic novels when you were, er, ill?” Eva didn’t want to bring up any subject that would disturb the delicate balance between them but feared she might already have done so when he sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Eva. I really have made a dreadful muck of things—of course you can ask me questions about my life before. I might not answer them all—nor do I expect you to answer all of mine—but it is your right as my wife to ask them.”

  Eva clenched her teeth at the words my wife. Yes, she wanted to know about that—most desperately—but pushing too hard at first . . .

  You coward.

  So what? she whipped back. What has my intrepid nature and impulsiveness done for me thus far?

  It got you here.

  Well, Eva had to admit that was a direct hit.

/>   “What are you thinking? I can feel your delicious body tightening up.”

  “I want to know what happened to your family.”

  Now it was his turn to tighten up. As the silence dragged and dragged and his arm loosened around her, she knew she’d made a mistake.

  She’d opened her mouth to tell him not to bother when he said, “I know I owe you this, but the story is one I’ve never spoken aloud before.”

  The desolation in his voice drove a spike of fear through her chest. What kind of horrid story was this? Why had she asked? Why not leave well enough alone? “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “Shh, you need to know. And what’s more, I suspect I need to tell you.”

  Chapter 16

  Godric had known the day would come. He’d been behaving like a child hiding behind a tree, believing others couldn’t see him because he couldn’t see them. And look where that had led him—led Eva?

  “I know you heard what I said when I was fighting.” He could tell by the way her body went still that she knew what he meant. “My wife died that day—the day I divided my regiment to go back to our encampment after a scout delivered information that it was under attack.”

  Godric took a moment to tuck the horror of that day back into its box. She needed to know about Lucia and his family, but nobody—man or woman—needed to know the gory details.

  “I’m so sorry about your wife,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you.” Godric could not tell her the rest, could not even speak Carl’s name. What could one omission possibly hurt when he had so many other truths to tell her?

  “The fighting was brutal and I was badly injured that day. An extended hospital stay was necessary. It was during that time that the Fontainebleau Treaty was signed and, as you likely know, many English people flocked to Europe. My family were among those. The ship they were on encountered two corsair vessels. Rather than surrender, as a wise captain would have done, the captain of the Valiant tried first to outrun the ships and then, when that failed, loaded his six guns and fired. The only reason these details are known is because there were three survivors.”