A Gentleman's Curse: Avenging Lords - Book 4

by Clee, Adele

With a curt nod, he said, “Can you be ready to leave at seven?”

  Claudia glanced at Emily. The sweet sound of laughter breezed from her sister’s lips. She was warming her hands on the brazier while deep in conversation with Dariell. The urge to caution her sister not to venture too close lest she burn her fingers hung on the tip of her tongue.

  “As long as Emily is comfortable with me leaving again, I shall be ready at seven.”

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “We do have a bargain,” he reminded her with some reluctance, “but I respect your need to ensure all is well at home.” Hudson glanced briefly back over his shoulder. “Your sister seems most content.”

  “I’m sure she is.” Claudia took hold of her plate and stood. Although it had been her suggestion to retire, she found it hard to leave him. “I’ll send word to the cottage later this evening. And have no fear, Emily seems to relish her independence.”

  Mr Lockhart inclined his head. “Then I shall bid you a good evening, Miss Darling. Might I suggest you caution your maid to tuck in the blankets? Lest you wake in a state of dishabille.”

  Claudia laughed a little. “One cannot help being restless in bed.”

  “How fortunate I happen to know of a cure.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” The words fell in a seductive whisper.

  Once again, thoughts of kissing him filled her head as his mesmerising gaze held her rigid in its spell.

  A sudden clap of thunder startled her out of the trance, but Hudson Lockhart would not be swayed from delivering one more tempting invitation. “Should you need me, my darling, you know where to find me.”

  “In the cottage?” The thought of paying him a midnight visit heated her blood. What if this was the only time in her life she would feel lust, lust with a sugar-coating of love? Because whether she wanted to believe it or not, she couldn’t help but love him a little.

  “No, you won’t find me in the cottage.” Hudson looked out at the black, billowing clouds swamping the moon. “You’ll find me in the rain.”

  * * *

  Rain hammered on the windows and pattered on the thatched roof of the small gatekeeper’s cottage. The constant ping of droplets hitting the metal bucket kept Lockhart awake.

  Not that he had any intention of sleeping.

  As soon as he was assured Dariell had drifted into a peaceful slumber he would venture outdoors, hoping the mistress of the manor had taken to dawdling in the storm.

  Perhaps it was wrong of him to throw temptation Miss Darling’s way. Indeed, he was not in the habit of seducing virgins. But he could no more stop his desire to have her than he could stop the rain falling. Despite his desperate longing, he could not venture up to the house. If Miss Darling wanted him as much as he hoped, then he prayed she’d find the courage to seek him out.

  Deciding he should linger beneath the cottage’s front porch—holding a lamp to signal his intention should the lady stray from the house—Lockhart peeled back the blankets and slipped out of bed. He tiptoed to the chair in the far corner of the room, grabbed his shirt and dragged it over his head before throwing on his breeches.

  Having left his boots near the front door so as not to wake Dariell, Lockhart was about to pad stealthily from the room when the Frenchman’s voice penetrated the darkness.

  “Is it not a little late for a stroll outdoors?”

  Damnation. Could Dariell not mind his own business?

  “It’s never too late to take in the fresh air.”

  “Will you not catch a chill being out in the rain?” Dariell said, sounding highly amused.

  “I’m used to the harsh elements.” He’d brave a typhoon for a chance to kiss Claudia Darling again.

  “And what of Miss Darling? The lady does not share your hardy constitution.”

  Bloody hell! Was it the man’s mission to pry?

  “Then I would have to say you don’t know her as well as I do.”

  “No, my friend, that is quickly becoming apparent.”

  “The lady knows her own mind.”

  “And you must follow your heart.”

  Lockhart wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he’d heard enough words of wisdom from Dariell to know he should act on impulse. Particularly when that impulse had taken full command of his mind and body.

  “Don’t wait up,” Lockhart said as he crept from the room to ready himself for his late-night rendezvous. Assuming Miss Darling came, of course.

  After thrusting his feet into his boots and lighting the candle lamp, he yanked open the cottage door.

  Rain pelted his face. The wind threatened to extinguish the flame. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning could strike a foot away, and it would not deter him from his course. The earthy smell of the night called to his primitive needs. The darkness fed his lustful cravings. And yet it was his heart that pounded hard, his heart that throbbed with passion.

  Waiting heightened his anticipation.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood beneath the stone porch, his gaze fixed on the long gravel drive leading up to the house. Thirty minutes? Forty? Maybe more. He’d stared through the gloom, his face wet, water dripping from his hair as the rain battered his meagre shelter.

  Disappointment flared.

  He considered returning to the comfort of his bed when a flicker of light captured his attention. A yellow sphere hovered in the distance, swaying back and forth as it bobbed closer.

  Stepping out onto the private road between the avenue of trees, Lockhart raised his lantern aloft—a sign he was also seeking something on this dismal night—and traipsed through the puddles to meet the advancing figure.

  In a scene reminiscent of a gothic novel, the mistress of the manor approached, her cloak billowing and whipping about her legs, the lantern held high as if an evil presence had drawn her from the safety of the house to wreak havoc on her delicate sensibilities.

  Miss Darling was in danger. In danger of being ravished by her husband. In danger of succumbing to the hunger flowing through her veins, too.

  “There’s nothing as refreshing as a walk in the rain,” he said as they both came to an abrupt halt just a few feet apart. Rivulets ran down his face. His soaked shirt clung to his chest like a second skin. His sodden breeches were plastered to his thighs.

  Claudia tugged down the hood of her cloak to reveal a flowing mane of golden tresses. She raised her face to the heavens, a broad smile of satisfaction sweeping over her pretty features.

  “Someone once told me that they find the rain cleansing.” Water splashed off her cheeks and chin. The tip of her tongue traced the line of her luscious lips, lapping every drop of moisture.

  Hell’s fire. Had Lissette given her lessons in how to drive one’s husband wild?

  Lockhart brushed a dripping lock from his brow. “I fear I may have been mistaken.”

  “Mistaken?” She lowered her eyes and fixed her heated gaze upon him. Desire danced a teasing rhythm, holding him spellbound. “How so?”

  Nothing could rid him of his wicked intentions. “No amount of rain can cleanse me of my sinful thoughts.” His breathing grew fast and shallow. “No amount of rain can temper my raging blood.”

  He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his entire life.

  “And yet the water seems to wash away my doubts.” She blinked away the droplets clinging to her lashes.

  “What doubts are those?” The husky tone of his voice should leave her in no doubt as to what he wanted. She’d found the courage to meet him. Would she find the courage to confess?

  “Doubts about kissing you again.” She swallowed. “Doubts about … about surrendering to these cravings that show no sign of waning.”

  The admission brought a shift in the air between them. The thunder groaned. A crack of lightning somewhere in the distance sparked a sudden sense of urgency.

  Claudia gasped as her breath came quickly, too. “We should hurry indoors.” Her gaze dropped to his shirt. “You nee
d to get out of those wet clothes.”

  He had every intention of doing precisely that.

  Lockhart placed his lantern on the ground and straightened. He held out his hand. The time for honesty was nigh, and yet he couldn’t find the words to explain these foreign feelings swirling in his chest.

  “Let me kiss you once, just once in the rain.” Desire flamed his blood.

  Claudia placed her lamp on the ground, a few feet from his. “What sort of kiss will it be, Hudson? A tender one to prove a point?” She stepped towards him and slipped her damp hand into his. “A wicked one to test my resolve?”

  His heart hammered against his ribcage, harder than the rain battered the ground.

  “Neither,” he said, drawing her slowly into an embrace. “The only thing I can promise is that it won’t be the kiss of actors on a stage.”

  She reached up on tiptoes, her eyes fluttering, her mouth achingly close. “Then kiss me, kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me for no other reason than because you want to.”

  Lockhart brushed away the wet tendrils of hair plastered to her cheeks and cupped her dainty face between his palms. He kept a tight rein on his desire, poured every honest thought and feeling for her into that first tender kiss.

  One kiss was not enough to soothe the crippling ache within. One kiss soon became two, three. Each open-mouthed claiming spoke of his respect and admiration. With the first soft stroke of his tongue, he worshipped her strength and integrity. Claudia Darling touched him in a way no other woman had, ever could. He drank in her exotic taste—a unique blend of wanton innocence that proved highly addictive.

  He kept a firm grip on his control, kept the rampant devil at bay, and made love to her mouth in the way he wanted to make love to her body. Slowly, and with long, deep thrusts of his tongue.

  It wasn’t the soft hum resonating in her throat that woke the devil. It was the two curious hands working their way up under his shirt, the two wandering hands creeping up to touch his bare skin.

  A growl left his lips, the sound full of carnal longing.

  He would take her here and now, against a tree, writhing on top of her on the muddy ground. Anywhere, as long as he drove home and buried himself to the hilt.

  “Claudia, is this what you want?” A fleeting moment of logic forced him to drag his mouth from hers and ask. The flimsy thread of restraint would soon snap. “Do you want me? For I fear once we start we’ll not stop.”

  She looked up at him through hazy eyes. “As an unmarried woman I should say no, but I cannot.” Her hands drifted over his chest, grazing his nipples. “What if I never experience these feelings again?”

  Hudson hissed a breath at her teasing touch. His swollen shaft throbbed in his breeches. “Then we need to get out of the rain.”

  “Where can we go?”

  “Not the cottage,” he said quickly before conversation dampened his ardour. “What about the house?”

  “The house?” Her brief hesitation forced him to take matters into his own hands. Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms. She gasped, fidgeted a little but soon settled against his chest and twined her arms around his neck.

  Leaving their lanterns on the ground, he strode up the drive and skirted left towards the stables.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We raised our glasses in salutation. A toast to our love of frolicking in forbidden places. There is nothing as daring as making love in a hay barn.”

  She pulled back slightly. “You’ve done it before?”

  “No, but where you’re concerned I am plagued with a vivid imagination.”

  The answer seemed to please her. Indeed, while one hand cupped his neck, the other moved in caressing strokes over the muscles in his arms and shoulder.

  “Making love sounds so much better than making lust.”

  He smiled as he marched across the courtyard, carrying his temptress. “Trust me there will be equal amounts of both.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Perhaps we should wait until we return to London to further our acquaintance.” Lockhart braced his hands on his hips and stared at the mound of hay in the stall at the far end of the small barn. His concern over their crude surroundings seemed to have quelled his desire.

  Claudia felt quite the opposite.

  The air smelt damp from the rain. The aroma of dust and wood and earth always appealed to her. Besides, in London how was she to know the difference between genuine feelings and those feigned purely for deception?

  “If you’ve changed your mind,” she began, but he did not let her finish her sentence.

  “I have not changed my mind.” Bewitching brown eyes travelled the length of her body. No, from the heat in his gaze that much was clear. “But I’ll not treat you like a randy milk-maid in need of a quick tupping.”

  A chuckle burst from her lips. “Lust must play a part. You said so yourself.”

  “It’s damp in here.” A frown marred his brow as he surveyed the scene. “You’ll likely catch your death in those wet clothes.”

  She should be flattered he cared. “If your reservations stem from concern for me—”

  “Of course they stem from concern for you.” He dragged his hand through his wet hair. “Love, is my need for you not perfectly evident?”

  The comment drew her gaze to the thick rod of his manhood pressing against his soaked breeches.

  Oh, my!

  “Claudia, I’ll die if I don’t have you, but your comfort must be a priority.”

  An idea popped into her head.

  She wasted no time in acting. “Then come with me.” She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him along behind. “Quickly.”

  The rain continued to pelt their faces as they hurried from the hay barn and around the back of the house in the direction of the rotunda.

  The white sheets acting as walls were wet through. Clumps of damp ash filled the brazier. But the creeping ivy and red roses hinted it might be the perfect place for an amorous liaison. Inside, the chaise and furs were dry. The rug and the array of plush cushions made the hideaway seem like an exotic harem. After all, was she not about to become Hudson Lockhart’s concubine, his mistress?

  The thought should have roused her doubts. But such indelicate descriptions failed to convey the true depth of their intimate relationship. Dariell often boasted that the truth of all things lay in the heart, not the head. In her heart, nothing about this felt wrong. Everything felt right.

  “Let’s stay here instead of the hay barn.” Claudia glanced out into the night, noted the house was shrouded in darkness. “No one will venture out into the garden at this hour.”

  Determined to appease Hudson’s need to ensure her comfort, she moved the rug behind the chaise, and with his help made a bed out of the furs and cushions.

  “You can be rather determined when you put your mind to something.” Hudson grinned as he appraised their makeshift bed.

  Nothing would prevent this union. She wanted to love him. Wanted to feel loved in return. And if her plans to thwart Mr Thorncroft went awry, she would always know what it was to be with a man she desired.

  “We’ve spent so long focusing on the task, I wonder if you still feel as amorous as you did ten minutes ago.” Perhaps the need for practicality had dampened his desire.

  Hudson snorted as he clasped hold of her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. “With you, I can rise to the occasion in seconds.” He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “My blood simmers constantly, just waiting for that glazed look, that coy smile that tells me you want me.”

  Claudia blinked. Her blood simmered, too, though she wasn’t aware she made any notable expressions when dreaming of caressing his naked body.

  “Make love to me, Hudson.” The words left her lips in a seductive whisper.

  Make love to me as if I were your wife.

  In all likelihood, she would never marry. Indeed, she could not envisage having any other man as her husband. Anxiety about what would happen on
ce the week was out threatened to ruin the moment.

  Refusing to surrender to her fears, Claudia came up on tiptoes and kissed him in the brazen, open-mouthed way that sent shockwaves to the intimate place between her thighs. Desire thrummed in her veins. Snaking her hand up to cup his neck, she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth to tease, to taste, to tempt him to respond.

  A husky groan in his throat signalled the shift from slow and sensuous to desperate and depraved. He tugged on the ribbons of her cloak, pushed the garment off her shoulders to pool on the floor.

  “You’re wet,” she gasped against his mouth as he crushed her to his chest.

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  The comment threatened to remind her they were actors playing roles until he clasped her cheeks and kissed her again—the illicit kiss of a man keen to drain every drop of pleasure from the experience.

  “Take off your shirt,” she breathed.

  He wasted no time in agreeing to her demand. He dragged the linen over his head, unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them low on his hips. It was then that he took a moment to notice her dress.

  “I’ve missed that ugly thing,” he said, trailing his fingers across the high neckline of her brown striped bodice, down over the swell of her breasts.

  Claudia sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ve nothing on beneath it. No chemise. No stays or petticoat.” She had dressed in a hurry. Intuition told her to do away with restrictions tonight.

  Hudson’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. “You certainly know how to tease your husband.”

  “A wife must find ways to titillate if she wishes to hold her husband’s attention.”

  “You’ve had my attention since that first night in the cottage when you brought supper and tripped over the step.”

  The embarrassing image came flooding back. “How fortunate you were there to offer a strong arm of support.” The memory of those large hands on her waist had kept her awake most of the night.

  “By now, you must know I would use any excuse to touch you.” He captured her hand and placed her palm on his chest. “I would give anything to feel your gentle caress.”