by Clee, Adele
The invitation to explore proved too tempting to resist. She ached for something. Touching him brought temporary relief.
Claudia splayed her hands over the solid muscles. His bronzed skin was damp, cool from the rain, as soft as silk though it sheathed a body as hard as marble. Rippling muscles in his abdomen drew her gaze down to the trail of dark hair that always teased a reaction. She caressed the solid planes, felt the thump of his heartbeat. Her fingers itched to delve lower, and she could not resist stroking the downy line leading to the waistband of his breeches.
Hudson’s breath hissed between his teeth.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin growing hotter with each graze of her fingers. He smelt of the rain, of the spicy incense and woody notes of his cologne. She inhaled his unique scent, too, the one that marked him as a hot, virile man.
Without warning, his hand slid round to cup her neck and he drew her to his mouth. The kiss was deep and long and passionate. It seared her soul, branded her body, marked her as his.
Despite the biting cold outside, inside she burned. The need to undress, to press her flesh to his flesh, proved overwhelming. But she would savour every second of this time with him.
“Wait,” she breathed when his kisses grew more rampant. She stepped back. “Remove my dress.” The tiny buttons were already undone, the consequence of rushing, of not wanting to call for a maid. “And don’t worry about the cold.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.” The hypnotic timbre of his voice made her shiver. “I know of a few ways to warm your blood.”
Without further comment, he gathered the hem of her skirt and slithered it up to her waist. His hands stroked the curve of her hips as he raised the garment up over her head. After draping it over the chaise, he took a moment to stare, to drink in the sight of her naked body as he had done the day she slipped into the bathtub.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, the heat in his eyes scorching her skin, “but the hunger in my veins makes me want to thrust deep, makes me want to devour and claim and ride you hard until you cry my name.”
Good Lord!
Nerves threatened to weaken her resolve. But she would not retreat now.
“Then be gentle until I’m used to you, and then you may satisfy your needs however you choose.” She pulled back the furs covering their makeshift bed, settled down on top of the cushions, held out her hand and gestured for him to follow.
Hudson loomed over her, appraising her bare breasts, his gaze softening when he stared at her stomach. He grabbed one boot, yanked his foot free and tossed it aside, repeating the motion with the other foot. Then he grasped the waistband of his breeches and pushed them down past his hips to reveal the solid length of his arousal.
Thick and swollen, his manhood looked twice as large as it had before.
With a confident grin playing on his lips, he knelt beside her. “Touch me. Touch me if you dare.”
Heavens above!
Claudia recalled a time when she struggled to look him in the eye. But that was because she was scared to like him, scared her dreams would lead to a life of disappointment. Now, she held his gaze as she wrapped her fingers around his throbbing erection. His large hand clamped over hers and moved back and forth in a slow, teasing rhythm. When he released her, she continued to stroke him, continued to bring him pleasure.
A moan left his lips as his head fell back.
There was something powerful about holding him, about having him at her mercy. Thoughts of closing her mouth over the glistening tip filled her head. Indeed, Lissette had been bursting with ideas when Claudia had asked how a wife might please her husband. Lissette seemed to know an awful lot about the desires of men.
But before Claudia could give the matter any further thought, her pretend husband—soon-to-be lover—clasped his hand over hers.
“As much as I’d like to make love to you all night,” he said, moving to ease her knees apart and kneel between her legs, “the cold weather forces me to hurry.”
“Then hurry,” she said, desperately trying to ignore the fact she was so exposed, “but you must talk to me, prepare me for what I’m to expect.”
The wolf in him flashed his teeth as he gripped her thighs. “Oh, I’ll prepare you, have no fear of that.”
When he lowered his head between her legs, she had no idea what he was about to do. Her only thoughts were of embarrassment until his tongue stroked and licked and teased her flesh in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. A gasp caught in her throat. Words of protest threatened to burst from her mouth. She dug her fingers into the soft cushions acting as a mattress as the waves of pleasure washed away any doubts. The muscles in her core tightened as she floated towards some unknown abyss.
“That’s it, love,” he said, offering words of encouragement as she rocked her hips in need of more. He moaned against her sex, probed her entrance with his tongue.
She should tell him to stop. But in the distant realms of her mind, her voice lacked conviction.
“Don’t stop, Hudson,” she panted, a traitor to morality. “I need … I need …” She didn’t know what she needed. But she knew it was magical, knew she came closer with each suck of his hot mouth.
“I know exactly what you need,” he said as his fingers slipped inside her.
She came apart instantly. The muscles in her core clamped around him. Months of worry and anxiety melted away as her legs trembled with the power of these bone-shattering pulses.
Before she could catch her breath, Hudson climbed on top of her. The heat from his body penetrated her skin, warmed her to the depths of her soul.
“Are you sure you want this?” he said, his tone rough, husky. Not once did he glance at her bare breasts but kept his heated gaze fixed on hers.
Claudia cupped his cheek. He was asking her to choose between one wild, wicked moment of bliss or the aching agony of loneliness. Once would not be enough—she knew that—but the memory would sustain her on cold winter nights.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he continued, although the passion in his voice belied his calm words. “We can lie here for a while, sleep if that’s what you want.”
“Hudson, I don’t know what is happening here—even Dariell might struggle to make sense of it—but I know I want to forget about the world for a moment. Regardless of all else, I need to be with you.”
It wasn’t lust that drew a soft hum from his mouth. It wasn’t lust that drew him to brush his lips slowly over hers, to close his eyes and taste every inch of her mouth. She knew the feel and the look of it by now. It wasn’t lust she saw playing across his handsome features when he took hold of his solid manhood and pushed gently into her body.
The feel of him inside her robbed her mind of rational thought. “Hudson.” The word rang with invitation. “Hudson.”
“I know, love, I need you, too.” He kissed her mouth, her cheek, along her jaw and neck as he withdrew and then pushed inside a little deeper. “It will hurt, but only for a moment.”
She held on to the bulging muscles in his arms, relished every small movement while fearing what was to follow.
“Tell me what you want, Claudia.”
Surely he did not expect her to say the words. “What I want?” she panted.
“Do you want me? Do you want me inside you?”
Claudia gulped. “Yes, Hudson. I want you.”
He lowered his head, his mouth closing around her erect nipple. The flick of his tongue dragged a moan from her lips. As she arched her back, relished the instant pleasure brought by his teasing, Hudson thrust hard, deep. “Christ!”
“Good Lord!” she cried through gritted teeth. Pleasure and pain whipped her insides. She didn’t know whether to moan with ecstasy as he filled her full or to gasp at the intrusion.
“Trust me,” he whispered, sliding in and out, in and out of her body. For a man who professed to trust no one, it was a surprising thing to say. But he was right. With every thrust of his thic
k shaft the pain subsided, and her desire grew.
“Why is it I feel the need to possess you?” he growled, his jaw just as hard and rigid as his impressive manhood.
Perhaps that was the way with lust. It grasped you in its powerful claws, teased, tormented, drove you to the point of insanity.
“Take what you want,” she said, but it was the madness speaking, the addiction, the craving.
He needed no further inducement to take her in strong, deep strokes.
His breathless pants sent puffs of white mist into the air. “I want you, Claudia. I want you so damn much …” He broke off, withdrew from her body.
She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she felt the hot liquid land on her stomach, heard the guttural groan of satisfaction that burst from her husband’s mouth.
Her husband?
How strange that she was so entrenched in this deception that she almost believed the lies, too?
But as Hudson collapsed at her side, as he pulled her into his arms, dragged the furs across their sweat-soaked bodies and kissed her on the temple, one thought proved dominant.
She was in love with Hudson Lockhart.
So in love, she would never marry another man, not as long as she lived.
Chapter Fifteen
“I daresay you’re right,” Dr Hewlett said as he sat back in the worn leather chair behind his desk. He steepled his fingers and narrowed his gaze. “Your father’s symptoms might indicate a number of ailments. Some severe, some less so. Without examining the patient, it’s impossible to tell.”
“Then will you come to Berwick Street this afternoon?” Lockhart infused a sense of urgency into his tone. He sat forward and stared across the desk. “I’m sure you will agree that time is crucial in such matters.”
“Indeed.” Dr Hewlett drew his appointment diary closer and scanned the open page. The doctor was younger than most, thirty by his estimation, though the man’s thick unkempt side whiskers suggested he had little time for anything other than work. “My last appointment is in Newman Street. I could meet you in Berwick at three.”
“We are grateful you can spare the time,” Claudia said from her seat next to Lockhart.
Lockhart nodded in agreement. “Should you find anything untoward, I wonder if you might remain at the house for a day or two.”
Dr Hewlett’s brows twitched. “I have other patients. I’m not sure—”
“I will more than compensate you for your time and trouble.”
The doctor hesitated. “Let us discuss the matter once I’ve examined your father.”
“Very well.” Lockhart stood. There was much to do. The early morning start for London, coupled with a lack of sleep, had left his energy flagging. “We’ll reconvene in Berwick Street—number twenty—at three.”
“At three,” the doctor repeated.
Not wanting to detain the doctor lest he run late, they left the man to his work. Drake had assured him that Dr Hewlett was both thorough and reliable and so Lockhart trusted the fellow would meet at the appointed time.
“Where now?” Claudia asked, pushing her fingers firmly into her gloves as they waited on the pavement.
“We’ll take the carriage to New Bond Street.” Focusing on vengeance proved difficult when all he wanted to do was ferry his darling wife to Russell Square and make love to her more thoroughly than he had last night. “We’ll inquire at the numerous apothecaries to find out which one supplies my father’s medicine.”
Intuition told him that if he delved deeper into his father’s illness, he might find clues as to who had framed him for murder on that fateful night. Justin had everything to gain—money, position in the family. Terence did, too. As of yet, his enemy had not made any obvious move. That said, Lockhart’s sudden trip to Falaura Glen might have stalled the fiend.
“We can but try,” she said, “and we do have a few hours to spare until we meet the doctor.”
“Dr Hewlett said there are at least five shops selling medicine on that street.” He had not kissed her since this morning and could not resist the urge to touch her arm now. “Come. If we hurry, we might have time for a stroll in the park.”
She eyed him suspiciously through half-closed lids. “How is it you make a walk sound positively sinful?”
Lockhart grinned. “It’s not the walk that heats my blood, but the thought of dragging you into the bushes to steal a kiss.”
Claudia shook her head. “What will you do when you no longer have a wife to tease?”
The question hit him like a hard punch in the gut. What would he do when she left? In whom would he confide his darkest secrets? Who would challenge his reckless decisions?
“You’ll not get rid of me so easily,” he said, sensing the truth in the playful words.
“Who said I want rid of you?” Claudia smiled and their gazes locked.
The sound of his carriage rattling to a halt beside them broke the spell. Lockhart spent the next fifteen minutes staring at her in the confines of his conveyance. His thoughts danced back to their illicit liaison inside the rotunda. Oh, the feel of her delicate hand pumping his cock had sent his head spinning. The feel of her tight body clamped around him had intensified his craving.
He would make love to her again.
Tonight, should she be willing.
Yes, tonight he would lavish her delightful breasts, would pleasure her aching flesh with his tongue until she begged him to fill her full. Last night, it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to withdraw from her needy body. Part of him didn’t want to think what that meant. It had nothing to do with enhancing his pleasure and everything to do with making this fantasy real.
A sigh from the opposite side of the carriage dragged him from his lascivious musings. More than once, Claudia stifled a yawn before feigning interest in the passing scenery. That was until they rumbled to a halt outside the first apothecary shop on New Bond Street and she almost choked on a startled gasp.
It wasn’t the rows of brown bottles in the shop’s window that caused her mouth to drop open and her eyes to grow wide. It wasn’t the small boy being dragged along the street by his irate mother that made her jerk her head back from the glass pane.
“What is it?” Panic gripped him when her bottom lip trembled.
A few seconds passed before she spoke. “That shop, the one two doors down from the apothecary, what can one buy there?”
Lockhart glanced at the swinging sign marked Higson and Son. From the various watercolours and assortment of quill pens displayed in the window, it was a stationery shop. “Many things. Art supplies, paintings, pencils. They print calling cards and invitations.” He frowned, thought to make light of her odd reaction but found he could not. “Why do you ask?”
She shot back in the seat, her face ashen. “Oh, I thought I recognised the person who left the shop a moment ago, someone from Flamstead.”
“So that’s why you look as if you’ve seen the devil.”
“Indeed.”
Being seen in a carriage with an unmarried gentleman would undoubtedly stir the gossips in Flamstead. “We don’t have to alight here. We can begin our enquiries at the top of the street.”
Lockhart did not wait for a reply, but banged on the roof and relayed instructions to his coachman. Miss Darling struggled to sit still. She fiddled with her fingers, chewed her bottom lip.
“You don’t have to come with me,” he said. Guilt flared for having placed her in this awkward predicament. “Wait in the carriage if you’re worried someone might notice you.”
He expected her to laugh, to confess to being foolish, suffering from paranoia. He expected her to insist on standing by his side when he trailed from shop to shop badgering the proprietors for information.
“Would you mind? The last thing Emily needs is for someone to start vicious rumours.”
Good God, she was lying.
He recognised the shifty look in her eye, the same one he’d seen when she sat opposite him in the cottage and pr
ofessed to be a clumsy dancer.
Perhaps it wasn’t a falsehood, the angel on his shoulder argued. She had no reason to lie. Numerous excuses filled his head. Perhaps the lady had a secret. No. Perhaps he was the one being foolish for jumping to conclusions.
“Very well,” he said when the carriage stopped farther on the road. “Wait here. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Disappointment dripped from every word. Still, she remained resolute.
Lockhart found himself stomping along the pavement in a bid to banish these crippling suspicions. Mistrust was his constant companion. Why had she behaved as if she’d seen an evil spectre not a villager from Flamstead?
Trying to push his misgivings aside, he entered an apothecary shop. Despite offering a bribe for information, the proprietor could not recall a customer named Terence Lockhart. The same was true for the next two shops. Both men failed to recognise the name even after gentle persuasion.
Instinct told him he’d found the right place as soon as he crossed the threshold of Wilfred Wolfson’s store. The name roused an image of a predatory beast. Indeed, the man behind the counter stared with bulging eyes as his tongue swept over cracked lips.
“Welcome.” The fellow rubbed his red, blotchy hands. “How may I assist you today?” He had the slippery voice of a swindler. A man who lured the unsuspecting into believing they suffered from all sorts of terrible ailments.
“Are you Wolfson?”
“Indeed, I am, sir.” The fellow scanned Lockhart’s face. “You look like a man who struggles to sleep.”
Well, that much was true, though it had nothing to do with an illness and everything to do with craving Claudia Darling’s luscious body.
“I’m tormented by an addiction,” Lockhart confessed as he prowled towards the counter. “Is there a cure for a man whose cravings keep him awake at night?”
Wolfson nodded. “There’s a cure for most things, sir. If one is willing to pay the price.”
“Is there a cure for lust?” And yet something more than lust flowed through his veins.
“There’s a medicine that makes it difficult to perform if you take my meaning.”
