Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance)

by Amber Carlton

  He slammed his mouth over hers and forced her lips apart. When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, Arleigh moaned and pulled it deeper, sucking on him with a need that turned his erection into a rock. He took advantage of her preoccupation and carried her into the bedroom. He dropped with her to the mattress.

  He listened to her sputter and fume while he unlaced his pants. She tried to scramble from the bed, but one push and she fell back. If her strength matched her determination, he would be in serious trouble.

  “You’ve got a lot of balls for a woman in your position. I admire that. Another woman would have spread her legs and accepted it. I’m going to forgive your impertinence and sassiness tonight because—”

  “You’re going to forgive me? That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve e’er heard!”

  Ryder laughed. “You haven’t heard my story yet. Shut up and lay down, Arleigh. You’re going to like it. I’m good at this.”

  “I can’t. You shouldn’t. You don’t understand—”

  “I understand this.”

  He pushed her down again and stretched out beside her. He slid his hands between her legs, and Arleigh gasped. She was hot and damp, ready and eager for him, but she froze under his hand. Her pussy was so wet she could not deny she wanted it. He simply had to get around whatever blockade she’d built in her own mind.

  “You want it,” he said.

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  He put his knee between her thighs and forced her legs apart. He pulled his cock out of his breeches and swept it over her soft folds.

  “Open your legs farther, Arleigh.”

  She moaned and clenched her thighs around his.

  “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to loosen up.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Well, the hard way got harder,” he said. He spread her legs apart, and she moaned. When she tried to pull them together, he squeezed her thigh. “Stop. We’ll pretend you don’t want this if it makes it easier for you, but I don’t want to bruise you, and I sure as hell don’t want it to hurt. I want you to like it, Arleigh. Kiss me, honey. Say anything you want if it makes you feel better, but show me how you really feel.”

  Her hands slid up his arms, digging into his flesh. Somewhere in her mind, Arleigh may have wanted to stop it, but her body definitely had other ideas. Her arms draped over his shoulders, and one hand curled around the back of his neck. When he bent toward her, she wet her lips in anticipation, and when his mouth touched hers, a blaze of fire shot through him. Her tongue plunged between his lips and swept inside eagerly. Her hips lifted toward him.

  He nestled against her, and his cock reveled in the feeling of her soft hair and the smooth wet skin that seemed to swell at the pressure of his body. Their kiss deepened and her tongue reached toward his throat. Her hips pushed against him, and she wiggled. He ran his hand beneath her and touched the smooth mounds of her bottom. She tore her mouth from his and pushed her face against his shoulder.

  “Just take me,” she whispered.

  “You’re an impatient wench. Stephen must not have been a very good lover.”

  “He was nicer than you are,” she said.

  “You’re in my hands now, Arleigh, and sex has nothing to do with niceness. We have all night. Do you want to touch me?”

  She shook her head against his shoulder.

  “Don’t go shy on me, wildcat. Give me your hand.”

  When she tightened her arms around his neck, he reached up and pried her hand loose. He pulled it between their bodies and flattened it against his cock. He searched her eyes in the darkness. The clear green glittered in what small amount of light filtered in from the other room. She looked a little scared but also filled with something that looked like curiosity. When her fingers curled around him, she sighed, and he thought he might explode.

  “You’re very soft,” she said.

  “Not exactly what a man wants to hear.”

  “I mean the skin.” A blush stole over her face. “Softer than the finest velvet. The rest is very big, very hard.”

  Ryder laughed. “Much better for my ego.” He nuzzled his face into her neck and heard his name drift toward him on a soft sigh. “What, baby?”

  “I can’t do this any longer. Please finish it.”

  “Are you scared of me, honey?”

  “No, but I don’t want to enjoy it. I don’t want any memories. I want it o’er. Take me, Master Kendall. I can feel what you want.”

  “What do you think I want, Arleigh?”

  She sighed. “You want to drive into me, hard, fast, deep. You want to feel my heat surround you, slide your cock into the moisture that fills me. You want to revel in the pleasures of the flesh, in the ecstasy that comes with the motion. And when the pleasure reaches its peak, you want to spill your seed into me in a flood of spent desire. What are you waiting for, Master Kendall? I’m hot. I’m ready. I’m wet. And I’m willing.”

  Ryder gulped. She seemed to be playing a new game with him, but he wasn’t going to win.

  “Christ, Arleigh.”

  “Are you waiting for an invitation? Then take me, Master Kendall.”

  She wrapped her legs around his and pushed her hips up. She pulled his face down to lock her mouth against his, and he snuggled between her legs. His mouth lingered on hers for a moment then he pulled away. He watched her face tighten and her eyes close. When he pushed into her, he got the surprise of his life.

  “Fuck!” He rose up on his elbows, and her eyes flew open. “Jesus Christ, Arleigh, why didn’t you tell me you’re a virgin?”

  “I told you I’d not bedded them.”

  “Next time be more specific!”

  He yanked himself out of her arms and struggled to the edge of the bed. He raked his hair back and shot a glance toward her. The hair spread on the mattress looked like a ribbon of fire. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples peaked, and before she closed her legs, he saw the moisture that glistened on her thigh. He didn’t know if it was his or hers. It didn’t seem to matter, because whatever was going to happen between them had now been put on hold. He tossed the quilt over her naked body before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

  “I didn’t think you’d care about my virginity,” she said softly.

  “I care! Christ, what’s happened to me here? I’m not into forcing women, and I’m certainly not stealing a girl’s virginity without her consent.”

  She sat up, and the quilt fell away, exposing her breasts, dropping to the soft curls between her legs.

  “I gave my consent.”

  “‘Just take me’ is not a sign of consent.”

  “But it wasn’t going to stop you, Ryder.”

  Oh, she was nothing if not logical.

  “I thought you were being coy! I thought you didn’t want to seem promiscuous. Hell, I’m used to a little protest. No woman wants to look like a slut.”

  Arleigh edged closer to him, and the smell of her wrapped around him. Could he take a virgin with her consent? His body seemed to think it might be possible.

  “You no longer want me?” she asked.

  “Of course I want you. I just have to figure out a way to get around this. Maybe if you initiate it. Maybe if you ask me.”

  He glanced at her hopefully, and she shook her head. “I’ll not ask.”

  “Maybe if you kiss me. Maybe if it looks like your idea, we can get swept up in the moment. We won’t talk about it. We’ll let it happen.”

  Arleigh looked doubtful, but she licked her lips and leaned toward him. Her breath fanned his face, and he tried very hard not to grab her. Suddenly she lurched backwards.

  “I can’t be responsible. Are we finished? Can I go now?”

  He threw himself down on the mattress and waved his hand in the direction of the door. His cock and the entire lower half of his body throbbed. Arleigh jumped from the bed and couldn’t get away from him fast enough. She paused for one moment, her hand on the d
oor jamb, and glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze fluttered the length of his body, and she bit down on her lip. When she raised her eyes to his, he thought he saw a trace of disappointment. Wishful thinking.

  “Sleep well, Master Kendall,” she murmured.

  Ryder raised himself up to his elbows. “Not likely, Arleigh, but I’ll try, to make you happy.”

  The most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his life slipped through the door leaving him alone.

  “A virgin. Fuck.”

  Chapter 14

  Ryder dropped the ledger back to the scarred table and reached for another. He glanced at the girl across the room. She had avoided him all day. He could barely get her to look at him.

  He had lain awake for hours during the night and several times had actually walked into the keeping room with the definite intent of sprinting up the stairs to the attic. Muddy thoughts of slipping into her body while she lay half asleep pounded in his head. Was it rape if the woman never had a chance to say no? He decided he couldn’t risk his sanity on semantics.

  In the morning, Arleigh had breakfast ready, but she ignored him. She offered a quiet good morning then moved around the cottage, completing her chores like an unobtrusive servant, but her very presence intruded on his sanity. He left the cottage fast. He’d wandered around the island all day, inspecting the buildings, checking out every inch of the land to see how it differed from his world. The answer couldn’t have been easier. This Trinity was nothing like his own, but he felt more at home here than he’d ever felt in his other world. And the woman? Christ, he still wanted her. Virgin or not, he needed to convince her.

  Now her presence stymied his concentration on Stephen’s finances. His mind couldn’t relinquish the conversation they’d had the night before. How had he read all of her signals so totally wrong? He knew she had felt that first kiss. And the rest? She had responded to him. A woman didn’t cream her pants if she had no interest.

  Concentrate. Forget about the girl.

  Easier said than done. Once he had caught her staring at him, but the stubborn little thing had quickly lowered her eyes.

  He snapped the ledger closed and pulled another toward him. He could find nothing in the books to indicate Stephen had been even close to losing Trinity Island. In fact, over the last fifteen years, Stephen had turned a profit, albeit small at times, year after year. Evidence of the farm’s productivity filled the ledgers. Not only did Stephen grow tobacco, he grew excess crops each year and had one of his indentures go into Jamestown several times a week to sell produce in the marketplace.

  He also raised chickens and sold their eggs, charged a seemingly large fee to stud out his bull and, because the other side of the island had a sheltered harbor, rented small parcels of land to several merchants to berth their larger boats. He had even invested some capital in a small ship-building business in Jamestown. All in all, Stephen’s finances should have been fairly secure.

  He saw several bills requiring attention, but nothing outrageous and nothing that caused him concern. Stephen had been pretty self-sufficient, paying only for services he could not provide himself. One bill came from a dressmaker for alterations on women’s clothing. Had Stephen dressed Arleigh in his dead wife’s clothing? Would any man dress such an obvious treasure in castoffs?

  There were bills to individual merchants in Jamestown for staples such as sugar, tea, parchment, ledgers, and ink. Normal everyday items. But all of these bills had been paid. Stephen had been meticulous in his documentation. The man had been an accountant at heart, like so many real Kendalls. Ryder had a meltdown when tax time came, could barely balance his checkbook, and made sure he had overdraft protection because he consistently forgot to write things down.

  He ran his hand through his hair. Should have had a haircut before the trip. A couple more weeks and he’d have to tie it back. Maybe Arleigh would trim it for him. He glanced up and watched her across the room. She tried to darn a little stocking. The way she struggled with the needle gave him little hope she would be able to cut his hair without butchering it or harming herself in the process. She tackled the sock as though it possessed something that needed exorcising. He’d tie his hair back, which was easier and less painful than being stabbed through the jugular. With Arleigh, he wouldn’t know if it was accidental or on purpose.

  “Does Stephen have anything to drink around here?”

  “Damn it!”

  Arleigh’s head shot up. She stuffed her finger in her mouth. She muttered something at him, but he couldn’t understand a word she said. He thought maybe she blamed him for her own lack of skill, but he heard the word whiskey. She nodded toward the hearth cabinet, so he got up to have a look. He rummaged through the cabinet and found several dark, dusty bottles stoppered with corks. He rubbed a bottle against his pants and pulled out the stopper. His eyes began to water. Powerful stuff.

  “You’re not very good at that, are you?” Ryder asked.

  “I’m learning.”

  “For an indentured servant, you don’t seem very good at a lot of things.”

  “I wasn’t always an indentured servant, you know.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, lifted her chin, and gave him a defiant, challenging look. She had the princess act down pat.

  He poured a shot into a glass, sniffing tentatively. When he took a small sip, the liquid scorched the inside of his mouth and sent a tongue of fire down his throat. He couldn’t get his breath.

  “Jesus!” he gasped. “Where did Stephen get this swill?”

  “He made it himself.”

  “It goes down real smooth. Like battery acid. Very potent. Wow.” He took another sip and found the second went down a little easier. Any port in a storm. He filled the glass and settled back down at the table.

  “So what were you?” he asked.

  She developed an intense interest in inspecting her wounded finger. Her brow furrowed, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “What do you mean?”

  He’d play along. Nothing bored him faster than numbers. He really wanted to toss her into the sagging bed and spend the rest of the night there. But since she hadn’t spread her legs willingly, he’d have to talk to keep his mind off the perfect virginal body across the room.

  “I mean what were you before you took a one-way, all-expenses-paid cruise to the New World? From the looks of things around here and that body of yours, I’d say you’ve led a pretty sheltered life. There’s not a mark on you. Where are you from?”

  “I’m…from…Ireland,” she stammered.

  “Yes, I know. I can hear it in your voice. Where did you live? What did you do there?”

  “I lived on a sheep farm, near the village of Rosscannon Quay.”

  “Sounds picture perfect. Very quaint. So you’re good with animals? You’ve harvested wool?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Your father ran a successful farm? You had servants? Money?”

  She shook her head.

  “A slacker, huh? Lazy, irresponsible—”

  “Ne’er!” she cried. “My mother—”

  “It’s pretty obvious you didn’t help your mother with household chores because you can’t sew, you’re not the greatest cook, and your garden needs weeding. And your clothing, well, not exactly the cleanest. By the way, did those clothes belong to Sarah Caindale?”

  “I…don’t…know,” she stammered. “I think so. Why are you asking me these things?”

  “I’m interested in your life.”

  “’Tis not very interesting,” she said softly.

  She grew antsy, twisting and turning on the rocker. He found he liked making her uncomfortable. He enjoyed watching her comfort zone drop several levels. How does it feel, princess?

  “Let’s talk about what I do know,” Ryder said. “You come from a farm yet apparently know nothing of farming or animals. You weren’t wealthy yet were taught no skills. You can read, write, and know French, so you’ve been educated. Were you a nun?”

  T
he laughter shot from her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop it. When she pulled her hand away, he relished the smile on her face. “A nun?”

  Good. She was lightening up a little. Maybe he could catch her off guard.

  Ryder shrugged. “A wild guess. You’re a little old to be a virgin in this day and age. How old are you?”

  Her eyes fluttered around the room. Come on, baby, it’s not a hard question.

  “Now?” she asked.

  “Yes, Arleigh, now.”

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “You’re practically an old maid in this colony,” Ryder said. She rolled her eyes at him. “So were you a princess in a tower? Daddy’s little girl? Wearing a chastity belt for the last five years?”

  Arleigh shook her head.

  “You weren’t remotely prepared for a life here. Why would you sign up for a gig like this, Arleigh?”

  The smile vanished, and her gaze dropped to her lap. She toyed with the little sock. “I didn’t.”

  Ryder raised an eyebrow. “You were sent here?”

  Arleigh’s lip trembled.

  Condemned felons had been sent to the colonies in the early days because transport offered the only way to escape the gallows. She had been sentenced to an unknown future in an untamed wilderness. She could never go home, or they would hang her. What on earth had she done to deserve that? He should have let her off the hook, but suddenly it seemed very important he know. He’d have to force it out of her.

  “Okay,” Ryder said. “Wrong track. I should have been thinking of more illicit pursuits. Want to tell me?”

  Arleigh frowned and straightened in her rocker. She clutched the stocking, practically shredding it in her fingers. Her stare roamed the room as though the answers were going to drop from the ceiling on cue cards. For some reason, he enjoyed seeing her anxiety, although part of him wondered why. He’d never had a mean streak before. Maybe the primitive conditions had brought it out. More likely it was the girl. The new part of his personality liked to see her squirm. Her gaze finally darted back to him. His hands folded around his glass. Had he worked for the Spanish Inquisition in a past life?

  Would she use her usual tactic and run?