Deborah Raleigh

by Bedding the Baron

  Portia ran her shaky hands down her skirt. Drat it all. What the devil was Molly doing wandering the inn at this time of night? She should be waiting near the foyer for any guests to arrive.

  “Have you ...” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “Have you had dinner?”

  “I purchased something that was masquerading as a meat pie, but I was wise enough to toss it to the dogs after one bite.”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Cornell ...”

  “Thank you, poppet, but I do not intend to disturb your cook at this hour,” he said firmly. There was another sound from the doorway as Tolly and Spenser tromped past, both of them eyeing Fredrick with a hint of warning. Fredrick held up his slender hands in a gesture of defeat. “Indeed, it would appear my late arrival has already created enough of a disturbance. I shall take myself off to my bed before the entire staff joins in the parade.” He offered her a faint bow before heading toward the door. “Good night, Portia.”

  Portia clenched her hands as Fredrick disappeared down the hall.

  She should be pleased, she told herself sternly. She had managed to speak with Fredrick and was assured that beyond a bit of dust he had returned safely.

  There was nothing left to do but seek her bed for the night.

  Standing alone in the room, however, she realized that she was not pleased. She was not pleased at all.

  So, what did she do now?

  Chapter Eleven

  Fredrick managed to wash away most of the dust he had accumulated from the bookstore attic, unfortunately, the cold water did nothing to ease the aching frustration that plagued his body.

  Pulling on his robe and running a comb through his damp curls, Fredrick struggled to concentrate on his unexpectedly successful evening.

  It had taken near three hours, and a search through endless ledgers, but he had at last stumbled across the name of Dunnington.

  He now had an address of where Dunnington had resided during his stay in Winchester. Tomorrow he would return and discover if there was anyone in his previous neighborhood that remembered the old tutor, or better yet, remembered Fredrick’s father.

  He was one step closer to achieving his goal, but at the moment he did not feel at all satisfied.

  Indeed, he was feeling distinctly unsatisfied.

  With a growl at the heavy throb in his groin, Fredrick was reaching for the nearby bottle of brandy when there was a soft scrape on his door.

  Frowning at the unexpected noise, Fredrick crossed the room and pulled open the door. His surprise deepened as his gaze landed upon the slender, raven-haired beauty that stood in the hallway, a tray held in her hands.

  “Portia?”

  “Shhh ...” Sweeping past his frozen form, Portia sent a chiding glance over her shoulder. “Close the door before we are seen.”

  Fredrick’s lips twitched as he obeyed her clipped command and turned to watch the lovely sway of her hips as she moved to set the tray on a low table.

  “What are you doing here, poppet?” he demanded.

  She fussed with the plates upon the tray for a long moment, her trembling hands revealing she was not nearly as composed as she desired him to believe.

  “I knew that you must be hungry so I brought you a tray.” At last she forced herself to straighten and meet his searching gaze. “The ham is cold, but it should be filling and the bread is fresh.”

  “I am sure that it is delicious. Mrs. Cornell is a consummate artist in the kitchen.”

  She managed a nervous smile. “Oh, and I managed to uncover a few apricot tarts from Spenser’s hidden supply.”

  Holding her gaze, Fredrick moved forward, not halting until he was standing directly before her with his hands on her shoulders.

  “Portia.”

  She licked her lips, sending a jolt of warmth through his already overheated body. Bloody hell, if she were only here to offer food then he was in deep trouble.

  “What?” she demanded warily.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I told you. I thought you might be hungry and—”

  “And so you deliver trays to all of your hungry guests?” he interrupted as he relentlessly tugged her closer and closer.

  “A few.”

  He chuckled softly as his arms lashed about her waist. “Poppet, is it so difficult to admit that you wanted to be with me?”

  “Yes,” she grudgingly conceded.

  “Why?”

  With a sigh, she lifted her hands to smooth them over the satin lapels of his robe. “I do not know.”

  “Tell me.” Fredrick lowered his head, stroking his lips over the soft skin of her temple. “Tell me why you are here, Portia.”

  “I wanted ...” Her words broke off in a jagged sigh as his lips stroked down to investigate the hollow behind her ear. “I wanted to see you. Be with you.”

  He breathed deeply of her midnight rose scent as his hands skimmed downward to grasp her hips. With one tug he had her firmly pressed to the hard muscles of his groin. A bittersweet pleasure considering the thick folds of her gown.

  “You are here with me, poppet,” he murmured softly. “Now tell me what you want from me.”

  She stiffened at his demand, her breath rasping in the air as she struggled against her instinctive fear of such intimacy.

  At last she sucked in a deep breath and then, without warning, she tugged open the lapels of his robe to expose his bare chest. Fredrick gave a choked sound of pleasure as her lips blazed a path across his skin.

  “I want you,” she whispered, her hands slipping beneath his robe to clutch at his shoulders.

  Fredrick shuddered at the feel of her soft, tormenting mouth. Still, he possessed enough sense to make sure that Portia understood what she was offering.

  “You are certain, Portia? You will not wake in the morning filled with regrets?”

  She tilted back her head to meet his narrowed gaze. “Fredrick, I do not know what the morning will bring, I only know that in this moment I do not want to be alone. I want to have your arms around me. I want to be with you.”

  “You want to be with me fully?”

  Her lips curved in a smile of pure temptation. “Fully.”

  Fredrick released a shaky breath, his tightly coiled desire busting through his body in a small explosion.

  Tomorrow he might once again be the enemy, but for tonight she was warm and willing.

  For once in his life he would live for the moment.

  “Then so be it.”

  Portia was aware of the moment that Fredrick allowed his rigid control to slip. It was in the compulsive flexing of his fingers as they dug into her hips, and the shimmering blaze of his silver eyes.

  Heat charged and crackled in the air, but rather than the fierce, overwhelming passion she had braced herself for, Fredrick’s lips were as gentle as the brush of a feather as they moved down the line of her jaw.

  “My midnight rose,” he whispered against her skin, the rasp of his whiskers sending a blaze of excitement down her spine. “I have ached for you.”

  She gave a low moan as she allowed her hands to stroke over the heated silk of his chest. On the last occasion she had been too caught in her own pleasure to enjoy the sensation of returning Fredrick’s caresses. Now, she fully absorbed the feel of his skin lightly roughened with golden hair, the fascinating play of his muscles that hardened beneath her touch, the way his flat nipples pebbled as her tongue teased them.

  Intent on her joyful discovery, Portia was barely aware of his own practiced movements, and it was not until she felt a cool breeze on her back that she realized he had managed to unbutton her gown and was efficiently unlacing her corset.

  “Yes,” she breathed as she felt the heavy gown slip away to leave her standing in her pretty shift. Somehow having the ugly brown fabric stripped away made her feel deliciously feminine.

  “I want you, Portia Walker,” he said thickly.

  Lifting her eyes she met the searing silver gaze. “And I want you, Fredrick Smith.
”

  Her words had barely managed to tumble from her lips when his head lowered and he stole her breath with a fierce kiss that held all the pent-up hunger he had kept sternly leashed.

  Of their own will her lips parted to welcome the thrust of his tongue. Before Fredrick, she had thought such an intimate kiss offensive, but as her tongue instinctively moved to meet his caress, Portia was reeling from the pleasure that poured like warm honey through her blood.

  It was this man, she bemusedly accepted. His touch, his taste, even his warm male scent that combined to make her senses tingle to life. No other could stir her to such a fever-pitch.

  Arching against his hard body, Portia shivered as his hands skimmed up the curve of her waist, tenderly cupping the sensitive fullness of her breasts.

  Her knees threatened to buckle as his thumbs played over her aching nipples. Oh, mercy. The intense pleasure arrowed straight to the pit of her stomach, searing each nerve along its path.

  She struggled to choke back a groan when Fredrick eased his kiss to playfully nip at the corner of her mouth.

  “No, poppet, do not hide what you are feeling,” he murmured. “I want to hear your sweet sounds when I please you.”

  Portia’s head fell backward as his marauding lips burned a path down the curve of her neck. She did not think that it was possible to hide what she was feeling. Not when her entire body was trembling beneath his exquisite touch.

  “And how will I know when I please you?” she murmured.

  He chuckled softly as he clasped her hand and led it down to where his erection was already visible between the edges of his robe.

  “I have no means to disguise my reaction,” he said, his breath catching as Portia readily allowed her fingers to explore the hard, straining proof of his desire. “Bloody hell.”

  “Do you like that?”

  “God ...” he husked, his eyes squeezing shut as she found the soft sack. “Yes, I like it. I like it very much.”

  Portia discovered she liked it as well. She liked the small, strangled noises that she could coax from his lips as she encircled him with her fingers. She liked his ragged struggle to breathe when she stroked over the rounded tip. She even liked the musky scent of his arousal that was filling the air.

  It offered a sense of power she had never before experienced in the arms of a man.

  For long moments Fredrick allowed her to fully discover the delights of stirring his passions, then with a deep groan, his arms tightened around her and with a smooth motion he had her swept off her feet.

  Expecting to be carried to the bed, Portia was caught off-guard when Fredrick instead moved to the side table set against the far wall.

  “Fredrick?”

  “Trust me,” he urged, settling her on the edge of the smooth wood.

  Waiting until she met his gaze, he slowly tugged her shift upward, deliberately rubbing the silk over the tips of her breasts before pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor.

  “By all that is holy, you are exquisite,” he breathed, his gaze running a reverent path over the curves of her breasts and down the slender line of her stomach. Portia gasped as fingers followed in the wake of his smoldering gaze, moving downward until he reached the curls between her legs.

  Good heavens, she was already feeling that delicious tension beginning to build. A tension he had taught her would be followed by sweet paradise. But it was too soon. As much as she had enjoyed having Fredrick pleasure her, she wanted to hold him close as he reached his own release.

  She needed to know that she could offer him the same pleasure.

  “Not yet,” she muttered, her hands reaching to tug at the belt of his robe. “I want to see you. All of you.”

  “Whatever you desire, poppet,” he husked, readily parting the thick robe and allowing it to slip from his body.

  Portia sucked in a deep breath. Unlike most men that she knew, Fredrick was not a mass of bulk and hair. Instead he was as sleek and elegant as the marble statues of Greek gods.

  Unable to resist, she reached to smooth her hands over his chest, lingering on the rapid beat of his heart.

  “I did not know a man could be so beautiful,” she whispered.

  He laughed softly as he parted her legs to step between them. “Not nearly so beautiful as you.”

  A shiver wracked her body as his erection brushed against her heated core.

  “Must you always have the last word,” she teased in a breathless voice.

  “Always,” he assured her before he lowered his head and kissed her with hungry demand.

  Her hands instinctively lifted to encircle his neck, her lashes lowering as his clever fingers stroked along her inner thigh with a relentless caress. A blaze of sensations flared from the light touch, her legs quivering as his searching fingers neared the heart of her need.

  Any lingering fear or hesitation was forgotten beneath the force of her aching need. She had been alone for so long. She needed the feel of his warm touch, the sound of his voice as much as she needed the pleasure of his intimacy.

  Perhaps more.

  Growling low in his throat, Fredrick plunged his tongue between her lips at the same moment that his finger slipped into her moist heat.

  Portia forgot to breathe as he stroked deeper and deeper, his thumb strumming over a small peak that created tiny sparks of delight. Her fingers restlessly tangled in his hair as her legs widened in silent invitation.

  Scattering kisses over her upturned face, Fredrick at last reached down to position his shaft. She prepared for his entry, but unexpectedly he instead rubbed the hard length against her cleft.

  She pulled back to regard him with a puzzled glance. “Fredrick?”

  The silver eyes glittered beneath his half-lowered lids. “I told you to trust me, poppet,” he murmured.

  His hands lowered to grip her hips, pressing his arousal firmly against her. For a moment Portia was lost in confusion as he thrust upward, refusing her silent pleas to enter her body.

  It was not until his erection stroked over her sensitive nub that she realized his intention.

  “Oh ...” she rasped, her lashes fluttering downward as his relentless strokes made her body tighten and arch.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he urged, his lips nibbling along her collarbone. Portia readily obeyed his command, a soft cry tumbling from her lips as he relentlessly stroked her toward the beaconing bliss. “Yes, poppet,” he groaned, his mouth moving down to capture a straining nipple between his lips.

  The feel of his tongue flicking over the sensitive tip was enough to send Portia tumbling over the edge of pleasure. Her head fell back as the tiny eruptions wracked through her body, her breath rasping loudly.

  Fredrick shifted to bury his face in the curve of her neck, his hips continuing to pump until he gave a low shout and Portia felt his warm seed spread across her stomach.

  Wrapped tightly in his arms, Portia snuggled against his chest and allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips.

  Once again Fredrick had managed to offer her a means of intimacy that did not threaten her future.

  Clearly his talents of invention were not solely confined to his business.

  Fredrick was oddly shaken as he felt Portia snuggle into his chest with a sigh of contentment.

  It was not the climax they had just shared, although that had been rather wonderful. Spectacular, in fact. Or even the sheer relief of easing the frustration that had plagued him for days.

  No, it was the complete sense of rightness in the moment, he decided as he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bed.

  So terrifyingly, perfectly right.

  Laying her slender form onto the mattress, Fredrick moved to swiftly wash himself, then dampening a cloth he returned to the bed and stretched out beside her. With gentle strokes he began to clean her smooth ivory skin.

  As she remained still beneath his ministrations, Fredrick lifted his gaze. A tiny shock raced through him at the sight of he
r pale features in the candlelight, her expression soft and sated, her eyes darkened and her curls tumbled across the pillow like a veil of ebony satin.

  There was very little of the commanding general about her now. Instead she was all tempting female.

  His body responded with a randy eagerness and swallowing a groan, Fredrick gently pulled her into his arms and eased her head onto his chest.

  “You are being very quiet, poppet,” he murmured, his fingers absently running a path through her satin curls.

  “I am not quite certain what to say,” she replied, her own fingers skating over his chest.

  “Well, you could say that I am the most talented lover you have ever encountered.” He kissed her forehead. “And that you are utterly, completely, wholly enthralled.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And that you will adore and worship—”

  “Worship?” she interrupted, giving his arm a small pinch. “Not bloody likely.”

  He gave a chiding click of his tongue. “Such language, poppet. I am shocked.”

  “I do not know why you should be. As the owner of an inn I am accustomed to hearing the sort of language that would make a sailor blush.”

  Fredrick frowned at her light tone. Dammit, this woman should be draped in lace and jewels and surrounded by the most delicate of society. The men in her life had failed her miserably.

  “Does it trouble you?”

  “To hear foul language?”

  “No, to be isolated at this inn when you should be gracing the drawing rooms of London.”

  He felt her body stiffen beneath his hands, her head deliberately lowered to hide her expression.

  “I have never possessed the desire to grace any drawing room.”

  He slipped a finger beneath her chin and tugged her countenance up so he could examine her guarded expression.