The Mysterious Lord Millcroft

by Virginia Heath

  ‘I was worried sick about you!’

  ‘Whatever for?’ She resembled a bedraggled rat, her long hair hanging in dripping ropes around her face. Her slim shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

  ‘You disappeared over the side of the cliff. Over. The. Side!’ The prod turned into a full push. ‘I thought you had fallen! Or been captured!’

  For a little thing, she packed a punch, although why she was fuming Seb couldn’t fathom. He’d only been gone five minutes. Fallen? Captured? ‘I was sat on that ledge watching. The view is much better down there.’ He gestured towards the rocky outcrop a few feet below.

  ‘You have a reckless regard for your own safety!’ The second push was done with both of her hands and he had to take a step back to avoid falling on his behind. ‘You could have died!’ Another push. ‘Was the bullet that almost killed you not enough?’

  It was only then that he heard the tremor in her voice. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘Of course I’m crying, you stupid man! I thought you were dead!’ The final push coupled with his shock at seeing her so distraught did send him backwards and he landed with a painful thud on the ground. ‘I hope that hurt!’

  Before he could stand she was off, fists clenched at her sides as her legs pumped the ground, her delightful bottom wiggling with indignation as she stomped back the way they had come. Seb stumbled to his feet and ran to catch up with her. ‘Gem—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I thought you were watching.’ She didn’t slow her pace. ‘I wasn’t being reckless. I was perfectly safe at all times.’

  That made her stop dead. Even in the pitch black and the storm he could clearly make out her fury. ‘Were the rocks wet and slippery? Was the wind howling? Were the waves smashing onto the beach below?’

  ‘Well...’ The stinging slap across the face came out of nowhere.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you!’ The hand she had just smacked him with clutched at her chest and tore at her wet shirt. ‘It broke my heart!’

  Like a dam bursting, all her molten anger turned into racking, violent sobs. It wasn’t pretty. Stunned, a little bit shaken by the dramatic turn things had taken, his mind whirring with the staggering possibility that he had the power to break her heart, Seb wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close. He was at a loss as to what else to do. To his greater surprise she coiled hers tightly around his waist and buried her head against his chest, noisily crying into his coat.

  I thought I’d lost you.

  It broke my heart.

  Did those words mean what he hoped they meant?

  He found himself kissing the top of her head and rocking her in his arms, oblivious of the rain that lashed his face. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’ The sound of it was tearing him to pieces and making him hope. ‘Slap me again. Push me. Kick me, just please don’t cry.’ Beneath his chin she had started to make a strangled sound which began as a hiccup and ended on a snort, her slim shoulders convulsing with each one.

  ‘I—I—I th-thought you were d-dead.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Needing to see her face and reassure her of the earnestness of his apology, Seb smoothed the sodden strands of hair out of the way and tilted her chin up gently with his finger. ‘Believe me, if I had known that you were worried...’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re safe. All that matters is you’re safe.’ Her fingers tangled in the wet linen against his chest and she offered him a cross between a smile and a grimace. It was the most beautiful expression he had ever seen. Of their own accord, his thumbs brushed away the fresh tears on her cheeks and then the raindrops glistening on her cheeks and lips. When her head turned and she kissed his open palm, he simply stared down at her in wonder. This was all so unexpected. Longed for, but never in his wildest dreams did he dare give credence to the idea of her reciprocating the emotions which Seb had suffered from the outset. The desire and need. The wanting.

  It was Clarissa who tugged his mouth down to meet hers. It was her lips that hungrily slanted over his, but it was Seb who hauled her against him like a starving man and feasted. Like the first fateful kiss, this one banished all reason and burned, only this time he recognised she was as active a participant as he was. As needy and as consumed with desire as he was. He laughed as he kissed her, overcome with the sheer joy of the impossible becoming glorious reality.

  Gem wrestled with the wet linen of his shirt and tugged it out of his breeches, then tunnelled her hands beneath to explore his skin. Boldly, her splayed fingers traced the muscles on his chest and abdomen, her hips pushed against his hardness with wanton abandon as the downpour soaked them both. She wasn’t the only one who needed to feel skin. On a guttural moan Seb tugged at the hem of her shirt, and when it caught on something, she helped him to pull it up and groaned as he filled his hands with her naked breasts. The nipples hard and wet with rain, so sensitive she shuddered at the merest graze from the pads of his thumbs. Gem, too, was eager to explore. Her palms smoothed down his abdomen, feathering the hard length of him over the top of his breeches shyly.

  It was ecstasy.

  It was agony.

  It was utter perfection.

  A dazzling burst of lightning brought him back to earth with a bang. They might think they were alone, but they weren’t. His men were out here on the Downs, hidden from view and watching. The hazy cloak of the storm wouldn’t camouflage everything.

  On a ragged breath, he pulled her clothing back down and recognised the exact moment she realised they were not alone, too, because she took a hasty step back and pulled her coat around her, giggling. ‘We should get back.’

  ‘Yes.’ But neither of them moved, instead they stood staring at each other in wonder, trying to make sense of what had spontaneously happened between them. To his delight, Gem was smiling. What started as a tentative curve of her mouth bloomed swiftly into a broad grin that mirrored his.

  Because it felt right, Seb took her hand in his. Linked their wet fingers before kissing hers. ‘We need to talk, I think.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we do. But somewhere warm and dry perhaps.’ She was still smiling. Not angry or disgusted, but an intimate and contented smile before she tugged him to follow.

  The mile between them and the house didn’t feel like a mile, nor did the pummelling rain or the random bursts of thunder and lightning diminish the peculiar atmosphere now surrounding them. They held hands all the way, but never said a word, letting go only out of necessity when they reached the rope. He had to help her to climb it, which was a delightful excuse to touch her body again. Only her waist and hips this time, but enough to relight the fires of desire as she disappeared over the window sill back into her bedchamber. Then he took a moment to pause and consider what he was going to say.

  There was no denying his feelings now. Not to himself. She was his everything and more. So much more than he had ever dared dream of. Beautiful, funny, a joy to be around. No wonder she had been declared an Incomparable so long ago. To Seb she was beyond compare. Did he risk telling her?

  Was such a declaration too soon? It wasn’t for him, but this wasn’t all about him and for all he knew she still had her sights set on the fool Westbridge. Away from the fraught emotion of the clifftop, she might already have second thoughts. Perhaps a more measured and cautious approach was best, all things considered. Seb would listen first to what she had to say, then respond accordingly. How are you feeling about what we just did? Of course that all hinged on whether she immediately regretted it. Westbridge might well be a fool, but he was a legitimate one. He had a title, a huge estate, wealth. Things Seb couldn’t compete with. Could Gem forgive him for the circumstances of his birth? She hadn’t seemed to mind it before now—but then romance had not been on the cards then. Was it now? Did he dare to dream? If you are agreeable, I would like to... What? Marry you? Make love to you? Court you? Yes to all three.

  Baby steps
were probably best while he gauged the lie of the land. No heartfelt declarations should be made until there had been thorough recognisance. Subtle enquiries, careful observation and gentle hints were the way forward. He would be a gentleman about the kiss and remind her it had happened in the heat of the moment, then see what she had to say about it. Content he had a plan of action, Seb braced his arms on the stone and heaved himself inside.

  ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’ She was sat on the bed wringing out her hair, the stolen coat a soggy heap at her feet. Had he not already known she was gloriously naked beneath the shirt, the translucent wet linen would have told him in no uncertain terms. The dark circles of her nipples were obvious in the candlelight, the fabric clinging to her breasts and leaving nothing to his imagination. His intended words dried to dust in his throat and with it came the return of his crippling awkwardness. It securely nailed his boots to the floor and bound his jaws with wire.

  ‘I do love it when you blush. It’s a very endearing quality.’ He could hear the laughter in her voice and forced himself to meet her gaze. If he couldn’t overcome the shyness, then he would never choke out the words he intended to say.

  ‘I...er...’ He gave up trying to speak and went back to staring at the floor, which stalwartly refused to open up for him.

  ‘Do I need to fetch you some brandy? A little Dutch courage...’ What did that mean? What did she want him to say? ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Seb!’ She was giggling now and patting the mattress next to her. Then her blue eyes darkened and her expression became all serious. ‘Come here. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.’

  ‘Your clothes are wet, too.’ Where had that voice come from? It almost sounded flirtatious.

  ‘They are. I shall probably need your help to remove them.’ Gem was looking at him through her lashes, spiked with rain, her own voice laced with the sultry coquettish edge which she wielded with such precision—except this was no harmless flirtation or a contrived one intended to put him in his place. Seb might be famously useless around women, but he recognised an invitation when he heard one. Even if he hadn’t, the moment she leaned back on her hands and the translucent shirt stretched across her bare breasts there was no denying the movement had been deliberate. She knew exactly what he saw. Knew and revelled in it.

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’ All at once, his awkwardness evaporated, replaced by sheer carnal desire which needed to be slaked. With more confidence than he had ever displayed towards the opposite sex, Seb walked slowly forward, his eyes devouring the sight of her shamelessly displayed before him. He shrugged out of his wet coat and let it drop loudly on the floor, then reached out a hand. When she placed hers in it he tugged her to stand and pulled her so close she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. The few inches of air between their bodies seemed to crackle with the anticipation, but despite his rampant arousal, Seb had no desire to rush.

  This miracle needed to be savoured.

  He began by removing the wet ribbon from her hair, then unwinding what was left of the thick plait. The weight of the rainwater had completely undone the work of her curling iron and it hung in a ruler-straight curtain almost to her waist. Seb rejoiced in the lack of ringlets, allowing the silky, damp strands to run through his fingers, knowing no other man had ever been granted the image of her as nature intended. To torment them both, he nuzzled her neck and nibbled on her ear, enjoying her soft exhale of breath as she swayed towards him.

  With aching tenderness, he began to peel the wet linen from her body. As if in a sensual trance, Gem raised her arms the second her beautiful breasts were exposed and shivered as the air whispered over her pebbled nipples. Seb’s sharp intake of breath at their perfection made her smile before her face disappeared briefly as he lifted the shirt away. Wearing just that knowing, feminine look and breeches was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen. Even his wildest fantasies had not prepared him for the reality.

  Pert, rounded flesh capped with dark-pink, saucily erect nipples he ached to touch. And taste.

  As if reading his mind, she wound her arms around his neck like a temptress, flattening her needy breasts against his chest and depriving him of the view. ‘Kiss me.’

  Who was he to argue? His mouth grazed hers gently and she sighed into it, clearly in no hurry either. This kiss was different. It still burned, but with the slow heat of anticipation rather than the fiery need for satisfaction. They had the rest of the night. No need to rush. The tip of her tongue lapped at his. He could feel the aroused peaks of her breasts through the damp linen of his own shirt. The bold press of her hips against his hardness. When her hands began to explore his skin beneath the fabric, he let her without interruption. The shirt slid upwards and her nipples brushed his abdomen. Seb tossed the shirt to the soggy heap of clothes on the floor and filled his hands with her deliciously curved bottom, pulling her hips flush against his. She undulated against him, those perfect breasts rising and falling as she explored his chest. Bizarrely, the starburst scar from the bullet was super-sensitive. His throaty groan as she traced the shape of it empowered her and she replaced her questing palms with her lips.

  Pure heaven.

  Without him realising it, his fingers had begun working on the buttons of her breeches at the same time as she began to work on his. Suddenly the need to feel naked flesh from head to toe made them both hurry. Both clumsy. They laughed as they wrestled with the clinging fabric, momentarily abandoning the luxury of undressing one another as they hastily stripped the last remaining wet layer off, then the laughter died as they took a few seconds to simply stare at each other. Stripped bare in every way.

  * * *

  Seb was big. Very big. His height. The broad shoulders and strong arms. Muscular legs stood slightly apart and that part of him jutting proudly. Intimidating yet exciting. Six feet plus of very aroused male. She had put him in that state. He had bewitched her in much the same manner. Her desire for him, for what would come next, overruled her apprehension that they wouldn’t fit together. They had to fit together or her body would spontaneously combust from the wanting.

  But laying with him was a huge step. Her tummy fluttered at the enormity of what it all meant. She was throwing away the security of being a duchess for a man who made her heart sing. Hoping laughter lines and love would be protection enough.

  He must have seen her trepidation.

  ‘I won’t hurt you.’

  ‘I know.’ As if he could? In a rush, all those doubts dissolved. Seb was the better man. The only man she needed. With him she would be safe and protected and gloriously happy rather than ashamed of all she was not. Seb saw what she was, flaws and all, yet wanted her regardless. That glorious acceptance set her free.

  Her hands came up to frame his face. There was no more doubt. Seb was a gentle giant. Her gentle giant. No other man would do. Clarissa stood on tiptoe to kiss him and then threw her head back and laughed as he lifted her into those powerful arms and gently placed her on the bed. Then the awkwardness she adored about him surfaced once again as he hesitated.

  ‘We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m happy to wait...’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’ As if she could. ‘We both know I’m intrinsically selfish. I want you now. This minute, in fact.’

  To prove her point Clarissa shuffled over to make room for him on the mattress, then delighted at the way his eyes darkened with desire when she shamelessly stretched out, lying propped on one elbow in naked invitation. ‘You have the oddest effect on me, Seb Leatham. Look at me.’ He did, with such intensity it made her womb ache and her breasts throb. ‘I’ve never been with a man before. Never ever been naked in front of another person before—yet I am apparently quite content to be so with you.’ Because he made her feel more beautiful than she had ever felt in her life. All the thousands of compliments, all the flowery words, bouquets from admirers, all the nonsense that came with being an Inco
mparable, all of that paled against the way Seb looked at her. He was no wordsmith, but he was perfect that way. He couldn’t say them and she couldn’t read them. What a splendid pair they made!

  Clarissa didn’t need his flattery to know he appreciated every single inch of her. Adored and desired every single inch. It was all there in his intense, unwavering stare as plain as day, in the deep and rhythmic rise and fall of his impressive ribcage and the steely, velvet hardness of his erection. Genuine evidence that she was the only woman in the world for him.

  His Gem.

  Not a diamond of the first water, but a real woman with her own thoughts and flaws and attributes. Seb knew she could be shallow and selfish. Vain. Vulnerable. Resourceful. Had watched her scheme to catch a duke, bind her straight hair in rags and act out the part of the Incomparable. Knew only too well she wasn’t perfect and yet somehow his casual acceptance of her flaws made her forgive herself for them. With Seb she was a better person. He appreciated her and understood her in a way no other soul ever had. No artifice. No affectations. Just as nature had intended. ‘Come to bed, Seb.’

  Without taking his eyes off her, Seb lay down, mirroring her position. She could feel the warmth of his body although neither of them was touching. He reached out his hand and ran his fingers once again down the length of her hair where it trailed onto the pillow. ‘I love your hair like this.’ The pad of his index finger trailed down her neck and across her collarbone as his gaze dipped to her breasts, lingered, before raking slowly down her body to the triangle of curls between her legs, then back up to her face. Every inch of her tingled with anticipation. Every inch of her screamed for his touch. Seb withdrew his hand and grinned. ‘You should also know I loathe your ringlets.’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?’ Because there were a hundred and one things she would prefer he did with his mouth at this precise moment and none of them involved discussing hair styles. The arrogant smile suited him. In that moment she realised he enjoyed teasing her and was well aware she was desperate for his touch and was denying it on purpose, the wretch. But Seb’s restraint was paper thin. A rapid pulse beat in his neck and there was a tenseness around his jaw which he struggled to hide. Wasn’t it wonderful that she knew him so intimately already? Confirmation that they were meant to be.