“No, it’s out of the question.”
Tess felt herself stiffen at his commanding tone. “I warn you, Rotham. I won’t just sit idly by while you confront an organized band of thieves.”
“You will, love.”
She regarded him in frustration. “You are acting the tyrant again.”
“Oh, yes,” he drawled in a voice heavy with satire. “It is tyrannical of me to want to protect you from danger.”
Brown eyes clashed with gray—but then Tess bit her tongue. She would never persuade Rotham to agree to her participation by resuming their former hostilities.
Forcibly, she adopted a more reasonable tone. “You seem to have no qualms about putting our servants at risk, or Basil Eddowes, either.”
“They are men. They can shoot a pistol if necessary.”
“Fanny and I both know how to shoot.”
“I am not putting you in the middle of a gun battle.”
“I am not suggesting any such thing,” she replied sweetly. “We are perfectly capable of going to fetch reinforcements from the castle while you big, strong men hold the thieves at gunpoint.”
When he only scowled, Tess continued. “I am not a fragile flower, Rotham.”
“No, that you are not,” he allowed grudgingly.
“You need us. Otherwise you will have to involve the castle servants, who may warn the thieves away.”
Rotham sent Tess a quelling glance. “Your stubbornness is highly annoying.”
“Well, you delight in purposely annoying me, your grace. Turnabout is only fair play.”
He grimaced. “Your grace, this … Rotham, that. Your formality grows irksome.” His tone held irritated masculine impatience. “Must I remind you again that you are my wife now? You may call me by my given name rather than my title, as I have mentioned before.”
Tess pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I have thought of you as my nemesis for so long, it would seem strange to use anything other than your title.”
“Ian is my name. I prefer you use it.”
“And in return, Ian? Will you allow me to participate?”
A pained smile touched his lips. “I expect you will leave me no choice.”
Tess’s own smile was brighter. “No indeed, dear Ian.”
Rotham eventually gave in, Tess decided, because he knew she was right. When they reached Falwell Castle, they left their horses on the bluff and made their way down the steep path through the woods to join Miles and Fletcher, who were lying in wait in hopes of catching the smugglers.
Inside the cave, they broke the padlocks on the chests and discovered an abundance of valuable jewelry, coins, and silver—mainly candelabra and dinnerware.
Fletcher gave a long, low whistle. “Cor, ’tis a fortune.”
“Not the work of Freetraders,” Rotham agreed grimly.
With that new intelligence, it was easier for Tess to gain his grudging approval in helping to guard the cave. After some further discussion, they formulated their plans. Rotham’s footmen would assume the next shift, while he and Tess and another servant would take the third shift later that night, beginning at ten o’clock. Fanny and Basil would relieve them at four A.M., along with Tess’s stalwart coachman, Spruggs.
Then they returned to the castle and informed the various parties about their duties. Basil was not keen on Fanny endangering herself, either, but although she was pleased by his protectiveness, Fanny used the same argument with him that Tess had used with Rotham—or Ian, as she had agreed to call him.
They dined together as usual that evening, and repaired to the drawing room afterward for cards and conversation. But when ten o’clock neared, instead of retiring for bed, Tess and Ian changed their formal attire for dark clothing—garments that were thick and heavy enough to protect against the nip in the autumn night air.
Slipping quietly through the dark castle then, they exited through a side door, where they met one of Rotham’s grooms.
Rotham—Ian—had brought two loaded pistols and a lamp, although they couldn’t use a light for fear of giving themselves away. The half moon was bright enough to illuminate the woods, however, as they negotiated the path down to the cove. And the soft rush of the waterfall was sufficient to cover the sound of their progress and even drown out the rhythmic swell of the surf surging against the shore.
Even so, when they encountered the first footman, they kept their voices low. Ian’s groom took the footman’s place, hiding behind a patch of shrubbery, and Ian and Tess moved on to relieve the second footman inside the cave.
The interior was nearly pitch-dark. Thus, Tess was glad Ian had paced off the dimensions earlier, since he was able to lead her to the rear of the cave. They settled behind the low wall of boulders, so that they could cover the cave entrance and the tunnel opening at the same time.
To avoid being heard over the babble of the waterfall, they spoke little as they waited for the thieves to show themselves. Tess rested her shoulder against Ian’s strong arm, glad to feel his reassuring warmth. She had dressed in a hooded cloak, woolen gown, and gloves, yet after an hour, the chill of the rock seemed to seep into her limbs.
Ian must have felt her shiver, because he murmured quietly, “Come here,” as he drew her closer.
He repositioned her between his outstretched legs, with her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her from behind. Gratefully, Tess leaned back against him and concentrated on staying awake in the darkness.
As the time slowly ticked by, she felt herself growing stiff as well as sleepy, but she was not about to complain since she had been the one to insist on accompanying him to the cave.
Perhaps another ten minutes passed before she shivered again. In response, Ian shifted his hold and drew down the hood of her cloak to expose her hair, which was still pinned in an elegant chignon from dinner. To her surprise, he lightly kissed her bare nape. Then he slipped one gloved hand between the folds of her cloak to cover her gown’s bodice.
Tess drew a startled breath, and when he began caressing her breasts from behind, she asked in an incredulous whisper, “What are you doing?”
“I am merely trying to warm you.”
The sound of his low voice scraped along her senses and flooded her with the warmth of memory, taking her back to the previous night spent in his bed. And when his hand slowly continued stroking her breasts, she knew he was purposely arousing her, despite his denial.
“You are trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” she demanded hoarsely.
“That was not my original intention. If I wished to seduce you, I would do this.…”
Through her layers of clothing, his gloved fingers plucked at her nipple, sending a shock of sensation spearing through her.
“You cannot make love to me here, Rotham.”
“My name is Ian,” he reminded her, gently nipping her earlobe.
“You cannot make love here, Ian.”
“Yes, I can,” he answered, unperturbed. “Shall I show you?”
His free hand delved inside her cloak to stroke over her gown, sliding along the fabric covering her abdomen, then lower to cup her woman’s mound between her thighs, pressing her skirts against the bare flesh of her sex.
Tess gasped at the pleasurable friction.
“Hush, darling. You don’t want to give us away.”
Yet it was difficult to hush. Even through her gown she could feel Ian pinching her nipples above while probing her feminine folds below. The combined effect of his dual assault sent a bolt of sheer sexual excitement through Tess.
As he pressed harder against her sensitive core, her own gloved fingers clutched on his hard thighs.
“You don’t really want me to stop, angel, do you?” he observed in that provocative tone that never failed to rile her.
He was daring her to prove her dispassion, Tess realized; indeed, he was almost taunting her.
She should have been vexed, except that his caresses were driving any thought of anger from her mind. With her senses
on fire, she couldn’t seem to care that he was conducting his scandalous offensive in a dark cave, or that at any moment a band of smugglers could come storming in—although in that event they would likely have a warning.
She most certainly didn’t want Ian to stop, however.
“I didn’t think so,” he murmured with amused satisfaction. When he urged her to spread her legs wider, she whimpered. “You have to be silent, Tess,” he reminded her.
His wicked caresses were somehow even more erotic because she couldn’t scream, and because his mouth joined in the seduction. His tongue swirled around the shell of her ear, then slipped inside, reminding her how he had thrust deep into her body just last night.
He continued stroking her through her gown, knowing just where to touch to increase her need. Soon her hips were rising and falling at the delicious friction he created, but Ian only increased the rhythm of his caresses.
Tess bit her lip hard, but when the fire mounted higher inside her, she couldn’t stifle a sob of pleasure.
“Remember, you can’t cry out when you come,” he whispered huskily in her ear.
To make certain she obeyed, he grasped her chin and turned her face back to his. As her body shuddered and began to buck in his embrace, he captured her mouth with a deep, hot kiss to silence her scream of ecstasy.
When her climax finally was over, his magical hands remained where they were, lazily soothing her.
Panting and weak, Tess sprawled back against him. “You are a fiend,” she muttered in a hoarse voice. “I cannot believe you did that.”
“Did what?” he asked innocently. “As I said, I was only helping to warm you. Are you warm now, love?”
Yes, she was warm. She was feverishly hot.
Before she could answer, Ian echoed her thoughts. “I think you are hot for me.” Catching her wrist, he guided her hand down to his loins so that Tess could feel the hard bulge beneath his breeches. “I know I am hot for you. I want to be inside you, sweet Tess.”
Her thighs clenched at his suggestive tone, while her stomach contracted. “This is why they call you the Devil Duke, isn’t it? Because you are utterly wicked.”
“No doubt. But it is hardly wicked to pleasure my own wife.”
“But I am not a real wife to you,” Tess pointed out breathlessly.
“Even so, when our shift is over, you are sleeping in my bed for the rest of the night. We are legally wed. There is no reason we must endure this sexual frustration any longer.”
Tess didn’t reply at first, although her body was aching shamelessly for Ian. The damnable truth was, she wanted to spend the entire night with him, making passionate love to him, getting lost in his strength and his heat.
And what was so wrong with enjoying a sexual liaison with her own husband? She had yearned for passion to fill the emptiness inside her, Tess reminded herself.
Perhaps Fanny was right. She could have Ian as a lover without involving her heart. Indeed, for the past few years, she had shut out emotions in her life as self-protection. She could continue doing so if they slept together as lovers, surely.
She could remain cool to Ian, in complete control of her feelings.
“Very well,” Tess agreed after a moment. “I will sleep in your bed tonight and ease your sexual frustration.”
He laughed softly and pressed a kiss against her hair. “How kind of you, darling, to pretend you are granting me a favor. But you will enjoy sharing my bed as much as I do, I promise you.”
Connubial relations do not necessarily lead to more intimate feelings, do they?
—Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard
To her gratification, Ian made good on his promise that very night. With no sign of either smugglers or thieves, he turned duty for guarding the cave over to his secretary and servants and escorted Tess to his bedchamber. There, he spent the remaining hours till dawn showing her precisely what he’d meant when he pledged to see to her enjoyment, rousing her to depths of passion she never knew were even possible. They fell asleep entwined just as day was breaking.
It was nearing noon when Ian awakened Tess by pressing arousing kisses all over her body, culminating with a tender kiss on her lips as he slid into her. The beauty of it—the exquisite feel of his hardness molding to her softness—stole her breath.
At her husky gasp, Ian sank even deeper inside her, deliberately inflaming the shimmers of pleasure that were radiating from her in waves.
He moved in a rhythmic motion, with slow, hot strokes that she felt in her very core. Liquid wanting poured through her, her flesh absorbing the heat and strength of him, her tension mounting with his every sensual thrust.
In only moments, the quaking excitement in her body built to shattering proportions … until she shuddered and melted around him. As she shook and sobbed his name, Ian came also, emptying inside her in a powerful climax that left them both weak and gasping.
In the drowsy aftermath of their passion, he stroked the curve of her hot cheek with a soothing finger.
“I would say we are making progress,” he murmured in husky satisfaction.
“What do you mean?” Tess asked hoarsely.
“You cried out my name rather than my title.”
She sighed with grudging contentment. She couldn’t regret surrendering to him. No doubt it had been inevitable after spending so much time alone together these past few days. The wonder was that she had managed to resist Ian’s allure as long as she had.
But the almost smug note in his voice compelled her to reaffirm her position.
“I thought you claimed to be a man of your word,” she breathed in an accusatory tone.
“I am.”
“Then how do you explain going back on your pledge? You promised we would not consummate our marriage until I begged you, but I never begged.”
When Ian lifted his head, she saw a lazy, heated smile glittering in the gray depths of his eyes. “Not yet, but you will. And I might point out that you are to blame for precipitating the consummation. You came to my room clad only in a provocative nightdress.”
Although Tess couldn’t deny his logic, she sidestepped the issue with a smile. “I will never beg you, Ian,” she insisted.
His mouth lowered to hers with heart-stopping languor, then finally drew back. “I will refrain from mocking you when you renege on your vow, love. For now, however, I propose we ring for breakfast. All this passion has left me famished.”
Tess was starving also, but she raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. “It would be more proper to dress and go down for breakfast.”
“Propriety be damned. I mean to spend the remainder of the day here making love to you.”
A fresh shiver of excitement ran through her. “Is that not rather decadent, as well as lazy and self-indulgent?”
“Perhaps, but newlyweds can be forgiven their inordinate carnal lust. And it is time you indulged your own needs for a change. You have acted the role of Saint Tess for so long, you have forgotten how to enjoy a leisure hour or two.”
Acknowledging the truth of his charge, she gave Ian no further argument just then. They breakfasted in his room, wearing only robes, and while they were being served, he ordered a bath to be filled in the adjacent dressing room.
Tess waited until the footmen had left to do his bidding before lodging a protest. “You cannot mean for us to bathe together.”
Ian sent her a taunting smile. “Are you afraid of a simple bath, darling? Or merely afraid I will make you beg?”
“I am afraid of neither,” Tess replied defiantly.
Ian was obviously taking her declaration as a challenge, and she thought it wiser to respond in kind. Keeping their marriage adversarial would go a long way toward maintaining her emotional distance from him, she rationalized.
For the remainder of breakfast, Tess tried to tamp down the anticipation and excitement welling inside her, yet she felt Ian stealing her breath every time their gazes collided.
His servants carried cans of h
ot water into the dressing room and eventually filled the copper bathtub. When the last one left, he shut his bedchamber door and locked it behind them, then turned to face Tess.
Awareness coursed through her with an intensity that made her burn. The air was crackling between them again, charged with a suppressed sexual chemistry … that blood-pounding, swept-away sensation that always made her feel so alive.
Then Ian shrugged out of his dressing gown, baring his nude body. Tess was unbelievably stirred by his striking beauty. He was strong and tall and handsome enough to take her breath away—but then, breathlessness was becoming a habit with her whenever she was near him. She wanted him with a greed that she had never experienced before.
He crossed the room to her, moving with a masculine grace that titillated the senses and only emphasized the leashed power in his long limbs.
“What are you waiting for, love?” he asked when Tess remained motionless.
“Nothing.”
“Then take off your robe or I will do it for you.”
The words were a gauntlet, a threat, and there was a distinct challenge in his gaze. But Tess mutely shed her robe and stood before him naked.
His expression turned frankly sensual as his gaze slowly swept downward, over every part of her. Raising his hands, he brushed his palms over her nipples, making all the nerves in her body shiver with delight. Then his fingers spread, fanning over her breasts.
His warm caresses sent a jolt of desire through Tess and set the inner passage between her thighs to aching. She wanted his magnificent length pressing deep inside her, filling her emptiness with heat.
A faint moan escaped her as he thumbed the taut peaks, but when she clutched at his shoulders to draw him closer, Ian stepped back.
“Not yet. The pleasure will be greater if we delay.”
Hiding her disappointment, Tess accompanied him to the dressing room, where she pinned up her hair so as not to get it wet. Then Ian led her to the tub and supported her as she stepped into the water. When she sank down, he joined her.
To her surprise, however, Ian would not allow her to wash herself. “I intend to play lady’s maid today,” he informed her, taking the soap and cloth from her.
To Desire a Wicked Duke Page 17
