Rachel’s presence impacted Skye’s relationship with Hawk even more than she expected. Regrettably, their interactions were restricted to formalities, so she greatly missed their intimate banter. Yet her disappointment couldn’t be allowed to matter, since her primary task was supplying Rachel with support and companionship.
Skye had not anticipated, however, how difficult it would be for her to pretend indifference to Hawk now that her worst worries about Rachel were allayed. They couldn’t touch, and they certainly could not share a bedchamber.
The proscribed separation created an undeniable tension between them. The first night in Wexford when Hawk made to retire alone to his own room, Skye could imagine following him, and a vision filled her mind of his magnificent body … of smooth, rippling muscles and sleek warm skin.
She was almost certain that Hawk felt the same tension. When his intent gray eyes fixed on her, she felt the impact like a caress, almost as if he had touched her. Her yearning was actually a physical ache, yet she knew she would have to live with the pain for the time being.
At least the journey went smoothly. The next morning, they weren’t required to wait long for the ferry. And the weather was fine enough that when they reached Bristol late that afternoon, they hired a fresh team for the carriage and set out across England, making it partway to their destination before stopping at a posting inn when it grew too dark. By then another autumn storm threatened.
Skye would have been gratified to know that Hawk was having similar difficulties adjusting to the enforced segregation. His sleeping hours were still visited by tantalizing dreams of Skye lying in his arms, sharing her incredible passion, and he woke each morning hungry for her. But that evening, with the rain lashing on his bedchamber windows, sleeplessness returned with a vengeance.
The storm eventually subsided and the night sky cleared of all but a few scudding clouds, but Hawk was still wide awake hours later when a quiet rap sounded on his door. When he opened it, he could recognize the shadowy figure in the faint moonlight coming from the window at the end of the corridor. Skye stood there garbed in her traveling cloak, her pale hair falling around her shoulders in disarray.
One look at her face told him she had suffered another nightmare. Her eyes had that haunted look that couldn’t be feigned.
“Please … may I come in?” she pleaded in a hoarse whisper.
Silently he stepped aside and let her enter. When he shut the door softly behind her, she moved directly into his arms and buried her face against his nightshirt, seeking shelter from her fears. His arms closed around her instinctively, and when he felt her trembling, he couldn’t deny her comfort.
She remained there shivering for several minutes.
“I am sorry to wake you,” she finally rasped. “At home, it helps to keep my nightmares at bay with warm milk and a splash of brandy. But I have neither.”
“I have brandy.”
She shook her head and pressed closer, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I don’t need liquor as long as I have you. Bad dreams never trouble me when I am with you.”
It was the same with him. He could dream peacefully when she was with him. Suddenly, though, he registered that her cloak had parted enough to expose her attire beneath. Just like that he became keenly aware of the soft mounds of her breasts and the feminine warmth of her hips and thighs through the delicate fabric of her nightdress.
All thoughts of peace vanished for Hawk. He had intended only to hold her, but his feelings went from sympathetic to sexual in the space of a heartbeat, and his loins swelled and hardened.
The sudden heat sparking between them was like dry kindling catching fire. Skye felt it, too, he knew, for she slowly raised her head to gaze up at him.
In the moonlight seeping beneath the window curtains, he could make out her lovely features. Her eyes looked like dark, fathomless pools, wide and lustrous.
“Please, Hawk … may I stay with you?”
When he hesitated, she swallowed and licked her dry lips. “Please. Do you realize … this could be our last night alone together? There may never be another chance once we reach your home.”
She was entirely serious, he realized. There was no teasing in her tone. No attempts to cajole or beguile him. There was only an honest solemnity that tugged at his heartstrings as well as his body.
Dropping his arms, Hawk pulled back, refusing to get lost in her eyes. Instead, he gazed up at the ceiling, striving for self-control.
But Skye went on in her quiet, imploring voice. “My family has always believed that we should make the most of our time on earth. I believe that also, Hawk. And we both know that life is too short and too precious to waste.”
It was an argument that resonated strongly with him. He knew better than anyone that life and happiness could be snatched away in the blink of an eye.
“What is so wrong with comforting each other?”
“You know very well. I could get you with child if you are not already.”
She pulled a small silk drawstring bag from the pocket of her cloak and held it up for him to see. “I told you I know a way to prevent conception. These sponges are designed for just that purpose.”
Hawk felt himself frowning. “How did you come by those?”
“Aunt Isabella gave them to me.”
He shouldn’t be surprised, Hawk realized, torn between disbelief and amusement. He knew that Skye’s relationship with her aunt was astonishingly frank and open about carnal matters.
Reaching up, Skye parted the lapels of her cloak completely and let it fall to the floor. Then she swallowed, as if gathering courage, and began unfastening the small buttons at the front of her nightdress. Her slow fingers were a beguiling dance that riveted his gaze as she eased the collar over her shoulders, and then that garment fell away, too.
Hawk drew a sharp breath at the sight of her. It was his most erotic fantasy: Skye nude, standing before him in the flesh, offering herself to him without inhibition or restraint. Moonlight gleamed on her white skin … the ripe swells of her breasts, her narrow waist, her gently flaring hips, her sleek, slender legs, the golden curls that hid her heavenly sex.…
She started undressing him then, clearly set on distracting him from his resolve to resist her. Calling his last reserves of willpower, Hawk caught her wrists before she could remove his nightshirt.
“You had best leave.” His voice was harsh, strained.
“Best for whom? Not for me. And not for you, either, I suspect.”
Gritting his teeth, he gave her one last chance to withdraw. “I warn you, Skye, I won’t stop with mere caresses.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I want you, Hawk. More than I can say.”
When he was as naked as she, he ground out from between his teeth, “You’re a damned witch, do you know that?”
She didn’t smile, didn’t speak. Instead she lifted her face for a kiss. Their breath mingled as her lips brushed lightly over his.
“I know,” she whispered, “but this is our final chance to be together.”
The reminder settled the question for Hawk. He knew damned well that he ought to send her away, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from claiming her mouth and feeding on it. He knew he should demand that she return to her own bed immediately, but he wouldn’t force himself to say the words. His craving was far too strong. He wanted to fill his mouth with her taste, to fill his hands with the textures of her.
He drank of her essence while his hands roamed her smooth, bare flesh. Skye returned his kiss measure for measure, making her own craving crystal clear. Her need was as great as his own.
Hawk ceased fighting. She was utterly enchanting, and he could no more resist her than he could stop breathing. Caution vanished; resistance and uncertainty disappeared, to be replaced by hot, hungry desire.
Perhaps Skye sensed his capitulation, for her kisses shifted from his mouth to his jaw, then his throat, sipping his skin there at the hollow. She moved lower to his chest
, then abdomen. Then slowly she dropped to her knees before him. In the silvery darkness, her lips traced the line of hair that led from his belly to his loins, where his erection stood at bold attention.
Every muscle in his body tensed.
“I want to please you,” she murmured, her fingers closing around the thick shaft. He was already heavy and hard enough to burst, even before she cupped his balls, squeezing lightly.
“You do please me.…” His voice was husky with arousal, and then she leaned closer. Her tongue, a soft, warm touch, tasted him.
Hawk let out a faint groan. His hands tangled in her hair, and for a long moment, he held still and savored the pleasure while Skye caressed him with her mouth and hands … stroking, laving, suckling. And yet taking pleasure was not enough for him, so he eased her away.
“Give me the sponges,” he demanded hoarsely. Allowing her no chance to protest, he reached for the silk bag.
When she handed it over, he loosened the string and drew out a small sponge, then a small vial of liquid. “Is this brandy?”
“I believe so. I have never used it before.”
His gaze narrowed on her as she knelt at his feet. “You said you had no brandy.”
“Not enough to drink. Not enough to ward off my nightmares. Besides, I would rather use it for this purpose.”
Her answer satisfied him for the time being. Pulling Skye to her feet, he led her to the window and flung the curtains wide, the better to see her. Moonlight flooded in, filling the chamber.
Taking her hand, Hawk drew her toward the bedside table and made quick work of wetting the sponge. Then sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted her and settled her in his lap.
He angled his head to kiss her, this time for her pleasure. His lips stroked over hers as he parted her thighs with his searching hand. She was already slick to the touch from her own feminine moisture. When he pressed the sponge deep inside her woman’s passage, Skye gasped softly at first, but seemed to grow accustomed to the chill of the brandy.
The heated wetness of their kiss wasn’t enough, either, though. His mouth abandoning its purpose, he drew back to observe her. Her skin shimmered pale in the moonlight as his palm settled over her breast, cupping the luscious weight. His thumb passed delicately over the peak, circling her aureole, then teasing the nipple into a stiff crest.
Skye gazed back at him, her blue eyes dark and sultry with wonder. Her breath quickened when his fingers left her breasts to splay over her stomach, then lower to sift through the pale curls between her thighs. Her hips strained toward him as he stroked her, one finger within her, his thumb caressing the bud of her sex. And when he increased the pressure, she closed her eyes and shuddered.
Hawk relished the heavy passion on her face. He wanted to please her, to bring her to aching arousal as she’d done to him, just as he wanted to feel her sheath clenching around his cock.
Perhaps discerning his need, Skye wordlessly shifted in his lap and made to straddle him. He aided her, arranging her astride his thighs, her knees resting on the mattress. With his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her and positioned her cleft over the swollen head of his shaft.
“Slowly,” he warned as she tried to lower herself onto his engorged length.
With effort, she went still and gave control over to him. He watched her face as he pressed into her, possessing her by degrees in a slow controlled thrust until he was fully embedded within her. Her body welcomed him, enclosing him in slick, silken heat.
Bringing his fingers to the thickly beating pulse at her throat, he stroked her skin. Then he slid his hand around to the base of her spine, bringing her more tightly against him, her breasts molded against his chest, her pelvis flush with his.
Her softly expelled breath wafted across his lips, and he felt her shiver around him in satisfaction.
The same satisfaction gripped Hawk. Being inside her seemed so right.
His hands grasped her hips, guiding her, encouraging her to find a rhythm. She rode him slowly at first, clutching his flanks with her thighs. But she caught on quickly. After a time, she rose without his help, then sank down again, her gaze locked on his face, her hips rocking in a surging rhythm.
In response, Hawk clenched his jaw, disciplining himself so sternly that a tremor went through his limbs. She was so hot and tight around him, so astonishingly sensual, that he let out another faint groan. When she rose again, though, he stopped her and pulled her down hard, so that he was seated to the hilt.
The pleasure sharpened for them both. Her breath coming in soft pants, Skye dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched her back, undulating to take him even deeper.
Their urgency grew. Hawk’s pulse pounded wildly. Leaning closer, he kissed her again, devouring her mouth, taking all that she offered, catching the whimpers now coming from her throat.
The pleasure built between them, then spiraled out of control. Their bodies twisted feverishly together. She was liquid fire and he wanted to be burned.…
Her hands clenching spasmodically, she gripped him, clinging blindly. She was moaning aloud now. When he bucked, driving himself upward, Skye cried out and shattered above him, her spasms so intense Hawk felt them in every bone and sinew of his body.
A heartbeat later he followed, joining her in a wrenching climax as fierce and primitive as lightning. Sensation spiked and exploded inside him, jolting him in endless waves of pleasure.
His breathing harsh and ragged, Hawk sagged backward onto the mattress, drawing a weak, limp Skye with him. She melted over him, her face pressed into the curve of his neck, his lips against her hair, their skin dewed from their passion.
His heavy lethargy matched hers as that incredible, peaceful sensation once again washed over him. And as he lay there recovering, lightly stroking her naked back, his reflections were incoherent for the most part.
He had no regrets about making love to her fully, however; that much he knew. Skye had captured his senses, enchanting him with her vibrant warmth, firing his blood with her sensual heat.
And yet … as he spread his fingers over the curve of her buttocks, luxuriating in the feel of her, a vague thought teased at the back of his mind. When the quizzical notion finally occurred to him, Hawk opened his eyes and frowned up at the dark ceiling.
“You said your aunt gave you the sponges,” he said in a low voice. “When?”
“I don’t recall …” Skye answered, sounding puzzled by the question. “Some time ago.”
“Did you send for them after you arrived at my home?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Then you brought them with you to Hawkhurst Castle.”
Again she delayed her reply, and when Skye finally answered, her voice seemed smaller, almost apologetic. “Yes, I brought them with me.”
Withdrawing his flaccid member from her body, Hawk eased Skye onto her side, then pushed up on one elbow so he could stare down at her. He wanted to see her face when he made his charge. “If so, I can only draw one conclusion, sweetheart.”
She looked wary, cautious. “And what is that?”
“You planned my seduction all along.”
She had known this moment would come. Skye studied Hawk in the silver light. His gaze was fixed intently on her face, but she couldn’t make out his expression. Fearing how he might take her revelations, she was not eager to confess, yet it was past time for honesty.
Skye drew a steadying breath. “Yes, I planned your seduction.”
His face closed and hardened. When she tried to reach up to touch Hawk’s cheek, his fingers closed around her wrist, trapping her palm against the wall of his chest.
“That first night … You feigned a nightmare to lure me to your bed?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. My nightmares are very real. Storms tend to incite them, as does sleeping in a strange place, just as I told you. That first night when you came to my room, all I wanted was comfort. The fact that we made love … I did not plan it that way. It j
ust happened.”
When Hawk made no reply, Skye continued on doggedly. “Don’t you remember what I said then? I have horrible dreams about my parents’ deaths when they drowned at sea. It started when I was ten, when I was sent away to boarding school and had to leave everyone I held dear but for my cousin Katharine.” She had felt so bereft and lonely that she’d cried herself to sleep for weeks. “I cannot seem to conquer my nightmares—or at least I couldn’t until I met you. I promise they are no pretense—” Skye broke off abruptly. She was babbling again, so she closed her mouth to give Hawk a chance to speak.
“You have been manipulating me from the very first,” he charged.
“No, truly I have not. That would be impossible, even if I had wished to. You are not susceptible to manipulation.”
“But not for your lack of trying.”
“No,” she agreed. “But giving you my virginity … that was never part of my plan, I swear it.”
Skye held her breath, waiting for Hawk’s response. His grim silence worried her, but not as much as when he abruptly rolled away from her side and rose from the bed.
When he lit the bedside lamp, Skye winced as sudden brightness starkly illuminated his features. His expression was cold, dispassionate, but she could sense the heat of his anger.
Feeling too vulnerable, sprawled naked on his bed, she sat up awkwardly. When Hawk tossed her nightdress at her, she put it on without protest. Her breasts tingled, feeling exquisitely sensitive, while her core was tender and throbbing—a severe contrast to the sudden ominous chill in the air.
Hawk scooped up his own nightshirt from the floor and shrugged into it, his actions brusque. Skye bit her lip in dismay. This was hardly the scene she had dreamed of—an intimate lovers’ confession where they both laid their secrets bare, whispering sweet words of desire and love.
How quickly the mood had changed. Barely five minutes ago, she’d been cradled in Hawk’s arms, feeling his heated need, his hunger, the thirst in his kisses. Even in his intensity he’d been ruthlessly gentle, but now the unguarded tenderness on his face had disappeared and the mask he regularly wore had returned with a vengeance. There was nothing visible of the wonderful lover who had moved inside her with an eroticism that melted every bone and nerve in her body.
Secrets of Seduction Page 14
