Enticed

by Virginia Henley

  "Darling," he whispered. He set down the gun on the tea table and pulled out a long leather wallet. "I've some money for you here. Five hundred pounds is all I have with me. but that might meet your needs. If not, Julia has a line of credit at one of my banks and I'll instruct her to let you have whatever you need."

  "Five hundred pounds is more than I've ever seen in my whole life," Kitty exclaimed.

  "It may sound like a lot, but I'll be gone for months, sweetheart, so you will have to be very careful with it."

  She took the bank notes and put them in her reticule. As she moved he thought how slender and delicate her wrists and ankles were. She was so exquisitely fragile, he knew he would need a will of iron to keep from ravishing her the moment he touched her. Desire almost overpowered him. His need for· her was so intense it was more pain than pleasure.

  She stood hesitant in the gathering shadows. Her small foot peeped from the perfumed mystery of her silken skirts and he was transfixed by the spell of her haunting beauty. The next instant she was in his arms. He lifted his hands and interlaced her hair his thumbs brushed the velvet of her cheeks. He lifted her faintly parted mouth to him.

  "Darling Kitty," he murmured and she looked into his deep blue eyes with apprehension. "I receive you as mine," he whispered. An ancient unsolved mystery, a fragile, haunting, whispered vow.

  "I won't unless you wish it, beloved," he swore, but it took every ounce of willpower he possessed.

  "I'm finished with childhood. I want to be a woman," she whispered back.

  He lifted her tenderly and carried her up the stairs. One eyebrow, like a raven's wing, went up to question which was her chamber, and she indicated with her eyes which door to open. Instinct told him she was far too shy to make the first move, so without hesitation he undid the small lavender buttons of her gown. He drew aside the fabric and kissed her on the curves of her breasts. She loved the look of adoration on his face as he slipped off her gown and undergarments and lifted her onto the wide bed. The room was filled with moonlight so he didn't light the candles out of consideration for her, but he promised himself they would make love with every light blazing before their week was up. He took off his tiepin and cuff links and placed them on the table by the bed next to a little pot of violet-scented face cream. He undressed quickly and slipped in beside her, gathering her into a very tender embrace. He knew that tonight he held the key to Kitty's future enjoyment of her own sexuality. Gently, he drew back the cover and gazed at her. Her nipples and aureoles were such a deep bronze color, they excited him until the blood pounded in his head and made him dizzy.

  "My God, kitten, you are so lovely," he breathed hoarsely. "I must have been mad not to have married you long ago."

  "Why didn't you?" she chided him lovingly.

  He stroked her shoulders and breasts and gazed at her thoughtfully.

  “I think you were too exotic for me to think of as a wife. A man would only think of you in terms of a mistress, because of your beauty. When you look at me imperiously, you could be Russian; the black clouds of your hair and slant of your eyes remind me of an Oriental. You have the dainty hands and feet of a Balinese temple dancer."

  She was in a dreamlike trance as his words revealed his enchantment with her. "At other times you are so sleek and pantherlike, you could even have a drop of black blood in you; Egyptian, perhaps."

  She smiled up at him. "It's Gypsy, my darling."

  "My exciting, exotic Irish Gypsy." He lowered his mouth to hers worshipfully. He kissed her eyelids, her temples, her throat and lingered over each delicate breast. He wooed her with honeyed words as his hands moved across her waist, tracing small circles around her navel. He stroked her thighs and finally the soft black curls on her mound of Venus. She drew in her breath quickly at his touch, but before she could protest he said, "Shh, my lovely, try to relax." She was fever-dry to his touch, so he used a tiny drop of the violet scented cream and with sensitive fingertips traced the folds between her legs. "Tell me what you like, darling," he urged, and his fingers gently probed again. "Does that give you pleasure?"

  "Mmmm."

  He increased the tempo of his movements and could tell she was becoming aroused. "Does that excite you, sweet? It excites me!"

  She moaned with pleasure, and with deft fingertips he brought her to climax. She arched against his hand as the strange sensation reached all the way to her toes. It was the first time she had ever experienced sensual pleasure and she was filled with the wonder of it. Patrick held her very closely and whispered such words of love, she felt her very bones would melt from the delicious sensations that swept through her. He was in no hurry; he forced himself to savor her enjoyment without marring her pleasure with his haste. He held her to his heart and stroked her back. Her arms swept up behind his head and when she moved her body closer to fit it to his, she gasped at his enormous phallus, swollen with passion. He soothed her fears away with caresses and words of love. He began to kiss her, gently at first, then more demandingly. His skillful lovemaking worked its magic until she became aroused again, and the intensity of her mouth matched his own. Gently he placed her on her back and crouched above her in towering excitement. A searing white heat shot through him at the first contact of their bodies.

  "I can't, Patrick! You're too big!" she cried.

  "Yes, you can, darling. Open your legs. That's right. Now kiss me." He would not be denied now, and firmly penetrated her trembling body and achieved his heart's desire. She was surprised to feel the delicious sensations arise again so swiftly, but this time magnified a hundred-fold. When she felt certain she could not bear such intensity one moment longer, he brought them to climax with a few swift thrusts and they lay in each other's arms, savoring their mutual ecstasy. He cradled her possessively until they both slept.

  Once, in the dark before dawn, Patrick awakened and looked down at the beloved face next to his on the pillows. Desire flared instantly through his loins. He bent his head to seek her lips, then stopped himself. He did not wish to give her a disgust of his male appetite, so sighing, he closed his eyes and willed the fire in his blood to cool.

  When the morning sunlight patterned the bed with its delicious, warm rays, Kitty panicked. My God, the words he'd whispered and the things they had done seemed shocking in the light of day. He was the master and she the servant, and now that he had had his way with her, he might discard her, toss her aside with all respect gone. She wanted to bury her blushes in the pillow but could not resist one swift glance through her lashes. Patrick was gazing at her. He adored her with his eyes. Relief swept over her. She sprang up joyously and kissed him repeatedly, saying, "Oh, Patrick, I love you."

  "Say it again, Kitty. Again and again! Foolish little darling to think you could get away from me. You are mine. Mine! I'll keep you. You'll never get away. Never! Never! Repeat the vow you made me. Only love me, and I'll manage all the rest!"

  Kitty was filled with such power she feared her heart would explode.

  Later that morning Patrick made them fishing rods and they set off for the trout stream. They wrapped the fish in leaves and baked them to a tender golden brown. When they were finished, Kitty lay with her head in his lap. The heat made her drowsy and each time Patrick bent to kiss her, delicious sensations ran through her body, and they repeated a hundred times the whispered promise, "Tonight!" They strolled upstream to where it was dammed off a little. He urged her to swim with him, but she was too shy to strip and play in the water naked. He refused to go in without her, and pressed her so insistently she promised that she would swim with him before he went away. When their fingers touched, or their eyes met, everything was forgotten except the magic of belonging to each other. Time ceased to exist for them. Day blended slowly into night and they exulted that at last they would be sharing a bed.

  In the aftermath of passion, she asked, "When it can be so beautiful, why did you ravish me that first time?"

  "I was a selfish fool, my darling. I suppose I wanted to put my
mark upon you so indelibly that you would always remember me even if you were with another. I wanted to master you, but I was the one who became enslaved."

  Each night it was different for them. Sometimes their love was wild and hot, almost an assault of the senses. At such times Kitty surprised him with a passionate ardor that equaled his own. Then the next evening she came to the bed shyly, in a pristine white nightgown, making her look like a young novitiate, and a tenderness swept over him, along with a deep desire to protect her always.

  Sometimes they fantasized about what their married life would be like. "If we go to America, I'll buy you a mansion on Millionaires' Row. I'll cover you in jewels and silks and thoroughly enjoy showing you off."

  She spoke with her lips against his, "Can I have my own carriage?"

  "Lady Jane Tut," he teased between a dozen tiny kisses. "We'll entertain every night. I'll be the most famous hostess in New York," and she traced the outline of his lip with the tip of her tongue.

  "Not every night; I'll want you to myself," he said possessively.

  "Oh, Patrick, perhaps Julia won't want me, under the circumstances. After all, I'm still married to Simon. Julia probably will feel awkward and object to my living there."

  "My dear Kitty, I am the paymaster in that house, and I will have things exactly as I wish them."

  "Patrick," she chided, "you are so arrogant!"

  "Lord Muck, eh?" he laughed.

  "Exactly!" she agreed.

  "That's not being arrogant, that's being masterful. Let me show you," and he pinned her beneath his body so there could be only one outcome.

  One evening they discovered some Gypsies camped by the woods.

  "I can dance like that. Would you like to see?" she whispered to Patrick.

  "Very much," he said, caught up in her excitement.

  She picked up a tambourine and began to undulate slowly.

  The beat of the music began slowly and deeply. A young Gypsy male came over to Kitty and began to partner her in the dance. He was very slim and swarthy and his teeth flashed white whenever their eyes met. They moved closer and closer in the hypnotic rhythm, never quite touching, and as Patrick observed the possessive look the Gypsy bestowed upon Kitty, he thought, "And she called me arrogant!"

  The music speeded up and they whirled faster and faster.

  Her skirts swirled higher and higher about her bare legs until Patrick felt his anger build with the music. He felt a jealous rage grip him as he watched the pair fit their body movements to each other. He strode up to Kitty, took her arm in a grip of iron and commanded, "Come!"

  "You are angry. Didn't my dancing please you?"

  She knew very well what emotions plagued Patrick at this moment, but she wanted him to tell her of his jealousy.

  "Your dancing aroused me, but it aroused him too, as you very well know," he ground out.

  "He was just a boy," she said and laughed. "He felt a man's desire for you."

  "Darling, you're jealous," she whispered.

  His mouth came down upon her savagely and she clung to him, savoring his brutality. "Come!" he commanded.

  "Where are you taking me?" But she knew.

  "You promised me," he asserted as he urged her onward toward the swimming place. She didn't protest when he began undressing her with impatient hands. Soon all her loveliness was revealed in the moonlight and he drew in his breath sharply at the picture she made. He stripped quickly and towered above her, not to be denied. The water was momentarily forgotten in his urgency, and she reached out to touch the quivering organ. Her fingertips ran along the entire length, which grew hard and rigid at her touch.

  "Darling Patrick, never be jealous. You're the most beautiful man in the world."

  "Kitten, desire and anger are a deadly combination. I'm warning you, there'll be no holds barred this night."

  She licked her lips in anticipation as he pulled her down into the grass. She felt her own pulse merge with the earth's beneath her body. He intended to make violent love to her, then bathe together. After their swim, he would love her yet again.

  It was three o'clock in the morning. Kitty stood by the window, looking down into the garden. Tears made silver streaks down her cheeks. Patrick roused from sleep to find the bed empty. Quickly he slipped out of bed and came up behind her. "Sweetheart, you'll catch cold. What's wrong?"

  "How can I bear it? Tomorrow you'll be gone and I may never see you again," she said, sobbing. "There could be a storm at sea, or you could catch a fever in America, or what about Indians?"

  "Indians?" He laughed incredulously. "Oh, sweetheart, your Irish is showing. Don't expect the worst; expect the best! I'll be back before you know it and by that time Simon will be out of the way and we'll be married immediately." He made a mental note to seek out the young hothead who had stabbed him in Bolton and give him a certain job to do.

  "Come and be warm, love." He picked her up without protest and carried her to the bed. Instead of tucking her beneath the covers he stood her upon the bed before him and removed her nightgown. She shivered slightly as the cool air touched her naked skin, then shuddered convulsively as his warm breath teased her breasts and his hot mouth took possession of the impudent crests that thrust boldly forward like tiny spears.

  His rough tongue began to lick her aureoles, then he took the entire crown into his mouth and sucked fiercely. A low moan broke from her throat that sent prickles along the back of his neck. He wanted to hear the love cries she would make when his mouth plundered her woman's center.

  His powerful hands gripped her waist firmly as his mouth moved down her rib cage, then across her belly.

  Kitty no longer felt cold. Her blood had heated to molten gold, flowing through every vein like liquid fire. She gasped as she realized his goal. Surely even Patrick could not be so boldly wicked as to put his mouth there.

  She tried to pull back from his mouth, but his iron hands gripped her like a vise, holding her for his ravishment. The kisses he bestowed upon her were so thrilling she threaded her fingers through his crisp, black hair and arched herself against his lips.

  He murmured against her hot center, "Beautiful, beautiful." His love words aroused her to a passion she had never experienced. His thumbs moved down to open her center and his tongue plunged inside to curl about her tiny jewel.

  She was sobbing now at the exquisite torture of his scalding mouth as he licked and thrust, licked and thrust, exploring every secret crevice of her womanhood. Every nerve in her body responded to the hot center where he plunged so deeply with pure sensual enjoyment. Suddenly she became hot and wild and insatiable. She was all Gypsy, all woman, as she threw back her head and screamed her joy in a splendidly uninhibited frenzy of sexuality.

  Patrick pulled her down beneath him. He knew she had experienced one delicious climax and he intended to arouse her immediately to another and satisfy her with the fulfillment of being hard and deep inside her so that his body could feel every last tremor.

  After their explosion, neither of them could bear his withdrawal. Her hands clung to him desperately. "Don't leave me, I may never have you again," she sobbed.

  "I'll take you with me in the morning. I'll not leave you here to brood unnecessarily," he said firmly.

  When morning arrived, however, fate had conspired against them, and Mrs. Hobson had come down with an ague.

  "I can't leave her alone, Patrick. It's best this way. All my fears have fled with the sunlight. You go and make things right with Julia, and as soon as Terry returns, we'll leave for London, I promise."

  They both felt pain at parting. However, both knew it would be worse to drag it out endlessly. With one passionate embrace that implied a promise never to be broken, he was gone.

  Chapter 16

  Kitty was left in a blissful state of hazy euphoria. Everywhere she went recalled scenes of Patrick's presence. She smiled tenderly when she remembered the whole afternoon they had lain in the tall grasses of the meadow. Each time she had kissed Patrick,
the corners of his mouth had quivered deliciously. She kissed him twice as often after this discovery, just for the pleasure of watching her lover's mouth. She hummed a pretty song as she made lunch for her and Mrs. Hobson and carried it in to the ailing woman on a tray. "I want you to figure out how much you are owed and also what we owe the farm for our food." The accounting came close to a hundred pounds and Kitty paid willingly, eager to be rid of the long-standing debts. After lunch, she decided to have a washday. There was a lot of bed linen as well as her own personal things that must be washed before she could pack everything. She would be ready when Terrance arrived, so there would be no delay in following Patrick to London. She tidied the kitchen and then packed all her belongings. She went to bed thoroughly exhausted and fell into a deep sleep. Suddenly something awakened her. It had sounded like someone in distress. Kitty could have sworn the cries came from her brother, Terrance. Carefully she got out of bed and removed from the dresser drawer the pistol Patrick had given her. Her hand tightened upon the gun as she silently moved forward and opened the door. The sight that met her eyes made her stagger back in horror. Three nude men were before her. Brockington held down Terrance while Simon bent over the boy. A motionless tableau etched itself indelibly upon her mind as she realized what was happening.

  "Christ, Brocky, she's got a gun! Take it from her!" Simon ordered. She saw Terry's face, the tears of pain and rage, and at the same time Brockington launched himself against her and grabbed for the gun. She either had to let go, or squeeze the trigger. She did the latter. Silence filled the chamber after the loud report. A surprised look on Simon's face was captured for all time as the bullet entered his head and gaped like a third eye in the middle of his forehead. She thought irrelevantly, Patrick told me I was going to be a widow soon. I wonder how he knew?

  The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils, but she was nowhere near fainting. Terrance slid out from under Simon's dead weight and reached for a dressing gown to cover his nakedness. He was shaking from head to foot.