Sweet Seduction hmtl

by Patricia Pellicane

  He couldn't see her face. Her entire head was covered with a mass of riotous, black curls. Tristan chuckled. "Dare what?"

  "Love me again. I can't move. I'll probably die from lack of air in a few minutes anyway."

  Tristan brushed back her hair and turned her face so that her cheek rested upon his chest. "Better?"

  "I love you too," she said just before she fell asleep.

  "That better not be you biting my rear."

  "It better not be anyone else," Tristan growled.

  "This could be the end of a beautiful relationship." Meg lay on her stomach and spoke into her pillow. Her words were thick and slurred with sleep.

  The sheet was kicked to the foot of the bed, and

  Tristan was leaning over her, taking tiny bites from her smooth bottom. "Already? After only one night?"

  "What time is it?"

  "Four o'clock."

  Meg groaned. She'd had only two hours' sleep. "It's definitely the end."

  "All right, but you can only go after I love you one more time."

  "Fine, just don't wake me up while you do it."

  The sound of Tristan's chuckle slithered up her spine. "Don't do that either."

  "What?"

  "Laugh."

  "Why?"

  "It gives me the chills."

  "All right. I won't laugh. I'll just love you."

  "I'm not waking up."

  "I know," he said as his hand moved lusciously between her legs and his mouth trailed a burning path of fire up her spine to her neck.

  "It doesn't matter what you do —I'm sound asleep."

  "I know," he said, continuing his delicious assault.

  "So you might as well give it up."

  "Getting it up was exactly what I had in mind."

  "I said give it up."

  "I love you," he said as he moved between her legs and lifted her hips from the bed.

  "Ohhh," she sighed as his body slid deeply into hers.

  "Are you awake?"

  "No, I think I'm dreaming."

  "Are you dreaming about me?"

  "Yes" she said as she felt her stomach muscles grow tight and her body hugged his throbbing fullness. "Oh God, this feels so good."

  Tristan reached his hand around her and slid his fingers into the folds of her body to find her tiny nub. "Tristan, that makes me crazy. Don't do it."

  "Shuuush" he murmured as he brought her to her knees. His hand cupped one breast while the other played with the tiny evidence of her arousal. "I love you," he whispered against her neck.

  Her body was slick with sweat by the time he allowed her to fall back to the bed. She was asleep within seconds.

  Meg had just returned from bringing an armful of food to the barn when she jumped and let out a scream as she heard him say "Where were you?"

  "Oh, God, don't sneak up on me like that."

  "Mary took my boots again," he said with no little annoyance. "Bare feet don't make much noise on a floor."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Outside"

  "I know you were outside. Why?"

  "I needed a breath of fresh air."

  "At a quarter to six?" he asked with disbelief. "You are the same woman who can't get up at nine o'clock, aren't you?"

  "I came downstairs for a snack. I was just now coming back to bed."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lydia smiled and purred with satisfaction as she stretched out naked beside the overseer, Jarvis. Her hand reached for and cuddled his limp member as she snuggled against his side. Her nose wrinkled with distaste as she inhaled stale sweat. The man was a pig but magnificently endowed, and for that reason alone, she ignored the unpleasant body odor, the none-too-clean sheets, the grime-covered windows, and the smoke-darkened ceiling.

  Despite the fact that she took most any man to her bed, Lydia had always been meticulous about her personal hygiene and almost obsessed with the need to house herself in an immaculate environment. Unlike most, she bathed every morning and night and insisted that the whole house, but most especially her room, be- thoroughly cleaned every day.

  Jarvis, on the other hand, never gave a thought to cleanliness. He bathed only when the stench grew so that he could hardly stand it. He rarely changed sheets and never gave a thought to his small cabin. Still, he was not without his own obsessions. But what most occupied the man's thoughts were women, or, more precisely, how women, willing or not, could please him. He'd had every female on the Johnston place and more than a few off, but it was never enough. The more he had, the more he wanted. Right now he was thinking about the new Mrs. Hall. He'd seen her yesterday morning in town. His mouth had watered as his gaze moved over her petite form and full figure. He liked them small.

  Small and helpless. The smaller they were, the more manly he felt. And when he felt manly, damn, he could go for hours. Just the thought of that delectable piece stirred his well-drained sex to a semihard state. Lydia couldn't help but notice his erection and silently took the credit, imagining her manipulations to be the reason for his growing excitement. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered if she'd known the reason behind Jarvis's hunger today, for Lydia wasn't foolish enough to miss out on so fortuitous an opportunity. She never pretended that any man had to want only her. She didn't care if his mind was on another so

  mg as his body was deep within hers. No, she possessed no pride when it came to sex, for self-gratification was the ultimate pleasure, and it mattered not at all how or from whom she achieved it.

  "Darling, you should have a few of your darkies clean up this place."

  Jarvis shot her a lazy, knowing grin. "When I bring I woman in here, cleaning isn't what I've got in mind."

  Lydia grinned. "No?" she asked sweetly. "What do you have in mind?"

  Lydia laughed as he rolled over and without caring if her body was ready for him, pushed himself deep into her again.

  It was sometime later when she was getting ready to leave that she mentioned the thoughts that had been slowly coming together these last few weeks. "Jarvis, I need a favor."

  He groaned, the sound almost one of annoyance. Damn but this woman was a hungry bitch, almost hungrier than him. The trouble was, he wasn't sure he liked his women quite so willing. "You'll have to give me time to rest up" he said, lying naked upon the bed, his eyes half-closed. "I think you sucked me dry." It was a lie. The man's sexual appetite and stamina were unequalled. He was capable of bedding a woman, more than one if the truth be told, for hours at a time. He was just tired of this one. Maybe he wouldn't see her for awhile. Her greedy hands and mouth were getting a bit boring.

  Lydia laughed, believing him and feeling some pride in the accomplishment. "No, that's not what I meant. I need a special favor. One I'd be willing to pay for."

  One eye opened at the mention of money, for Jarvis was a man of only two needs. One was women and the other, money. She'd gotten his attention all right. There was little the man wouldn't do to add to his already bulging coffers. He'd saved almost every cent earned over the last eighteen years while working for Johnston and had no intention of parting with a cent. He wasn't always going to be an overseer. One day he'd be rich. As rich and as powerful as any of these plantation owners. The polite folks in these parts wouldn't look down their noses at him then. "How much?"

  Lydia shrugged. "Maybe a thousand dollars." She didn't know for sure how much she was willing to pay. An exact plan hadn't yet formed, but hovered on the edges of her mind. She knew she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands before she was found out, but as yet she hadn't found any specific solution.

  "Jesus!" Jarvis came up on one elbow. "Who do you want dead?" he asked.

  Lydia's laughter was strained, wondering if that were her only alternative. If so, she'd have to be very careful, indeed, lest accusations fall on her shoulders. "Did I say I wanted anyone dead?"

  He shook his head, recognizing the sinister flash in her eyes. "Forget it. If you want somebody to screw, I'm your man. Screwin' ain't
a hangin' offense, lady. I ain't goin' to hang. Not for you. Not for anybody."

  "I never said I wanted you to do it. What I want from you is the name of someone who will."

  "And you think I know someone like that?"

  "I figure you must know somebody."

  "Well, you figure wrong. I mind my own business."

  Lydia shrugged again. "Fine. I'll ask someone else."

  "Who?"

  "Maybe Parker over at old man Partridge's place."

  "Parker? Damn, you been screwin' him, too?"

  "Of course, darling. I have to do something on the days you're busy."

  Jarvis laughed. Parker would have to be crazy to go along with her plan. There wasn't a woman alive worth dying for. "Good luck."

  "I don't need luck, dear. I've got brains. That's all anyone needs."

  "So why don't you do it yourself?"

  Lydia looked at him for a long moment. It was obvious, from her slightly startled expression, that she'd never considered the notion. And just as obvious that she was taking a liking to the thought. Jarvis was right. Whatever she decided had to be done, it was best not to involve others. She would do it herself.

  "I've got to go."

  Jarvis almost asked her who she was going to kill but decided at the last second it was none of his concern. The truth was he didn't care enough about any single human being to worry over who lived or died.

  Meg snapped the reins side to side over the horse's back as she raced over the dangerously uneven dirt road toward home. Tristan was bound to be greatly disturbed to find her missing most of the day. No doubt he was at this very minute pacing his study and impatiently checking the time while fearing for her safety. Meg wasn't happy that she'd probably caused her husband needless worry, but it had been necessary to make this trip.

  As far back as she could remember, Emily Bishop, Meg's great aunt on her mother's side, a woman considered a bit odd at best, had been actively involved aiding runaways. Aunt Emily lived three days, if one rode at breakneck speed, west of Meg's former home but only five miles over Virginia's border, inside Maryland's state line.

  Meg knew once she herself had made the commitment that she had to speak with her relative. Only she had misjudged the distance. She'd thought her Aunt Emily lived perhaps three hours north, when in actuality it was more than five. She'd left early this morning, almost the minute Tristan had entered his office to begin the day's work running his plantation, Travelling on horseback, she expected to be back well before the dinner hour. It was far beyond that now and because the days were growing shorter, it was already approaching dusk as she neared Oak Tree's property line.

  But Meg considered the exhausting ride well worth the effort, for she'd been informed of drop-off and meeting locations as well as general information needed in assisting the runaways. She was advised on to provide hiding places. How false walls could be set in place, how the space beneath a carriage seat could be most worthily used, and how ledges that could support a half-dozen men could be placed into wells. Meg smiled with satisfaction, knowing Oak Tree was to become yet another stopover on a slave's long journey toward freedom.

  Meg pulled sharply on the reins, bringing her horse to a dangerously sudden stop. Star screamed sharply in terror as she reared high, balanced on hind legs and pawing at the air. It wasn't until Meg settled the horse with soothing pats to her neck that she turned to look at the man blocking her way.

  Jarvis sat in the saddle, having cut across her path and grinned, displaying tobacco-stained teeth. "Y'all shouldn't be travelin' these roads alone,.ma'am."

  Meg tipped her head to one side as she sought to control her temper. The man was a fool to have cut across her path. At the rate she was traveling, it had been a miracle that she was able to bring the horse to a stop. Still, Meg refused to acknowledge the fright he'd given her. She gave him only a cool look of disapproval and asked, "Indeed, Mr. Jarvis? And why is that?"

  "More niggers escaped last night. They could be hiding out here, just awaitin' fir some pretty little thing like you to come along."

  "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Jarvis. I'll be sure to take your opinion into consideration," she said icily.

  "Does your husband know you're here?"

  "Of course he knows."

  "I reckon he don't."

  "Mr. Jarvis, are you calling me a liar?"

  "Looks like I am, ma'am."

  Meg took a deep breath, resisting the impulse to give this lowlife a sampling of her sharp tongue. She couldn't help but notice how his gaze moved with unbelievable audacity over her breasts. She fought back the shiver that threatened. "I'd venture to say whatever I do is hardly any of your concern."

  "Like I said, I wouldn't want to see any thin' happen to a pretty little thing like you."

  "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Jarvis. Good day to you." Meg tightened her knees, meaning to leave the man in her dust, but Jarvis reached out and held the horse still.

  He laughed at her look of astonishment, a low, chilling, snicker of glee as he moved his horse a bit closer. "You want I should ride alongside? I'd be happy to see you home safe."

  "There's no need," Tristan said, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere. "I'll be seeing my wife home. Thank you, Jarvis."

  Tristan moved his horse to her side. He never glanced in her direction, but with a face drawn into a tight mask of fury, took hold of her reins and without a word spoken almost ran the man and his horse down.

  Jarvis shivered as his gaze measured the look in Tristan's eyes. Though Jarvis was a man of no great intellect, still he knew when death stared him in the face. Any thoughts he'd harbored about having this woman were instantly put to rest. There was no way he was going to chance his life over a woman. There wasn't a woman alive worth the suffering he'd know if he'd touched her.

  Meg tried twice to get her husband to talk to her but received only silence in response. Because Will, one of the biggest field hands on Oak Tree, had accompanied Tristan, she refused to make a scene.

  The silence between them continued all the way to the barn where he dismounted and said to Aaron, "Send word out to the others that Mrs. Hall is home." He never spoke to Meg, never looked at her, in fact, but nearly dragged her from her horse. "See to the horses, will you, Aaron?"

  "Yassir," Aaron said, his black face glowing with pride, knowing the master trusted him above all others to see to this chore.

  Tristan took Meg by the arm, but instead of leading her to the house, he practically dragged her deep into the woods behind the barn.

  "Tristan, are you going to talk to me? Where are we going?" she asked as a branch snapped back into her face.

  They entered a small clearing where he stopped and turned to face her. His fingers bit into her shoulders as he gave her a hard shake. "If you ever, ever disobey me again, I'll beat you to within an inch of your life."

  Meg tore herself from his grasp. "What's the matter with you?"

  "Where were you?"

  "I left you a note."

  Tristan sneered, "You did, didn't you? If I'm not mistaken it read, I'll be back later.' "

  There was a moment of silence before he continued, "Where did you go?"

  "To visit my aunt."

  "Gypsy, don't get smart with me. I'm not in the mood for one of your flippant answers."

  Meg's eyes widened incredulously. She hadn't imagined that he wouldn't believe her. "But I did. I didn't ;realize she lived so far away until I was almost there. I thought I'd be back in just a few hours."

  "Where does she live?"

  "In Maryland."

  "Are you out of your mind!" he bellowed almost into her face. "You rode five hours and better to visit? For what? A half-hour? And then rode back?"

  "I told you I thought she lived much closer. I kept thinking it must be just up the road. I wouldn't have gone if I'd have known she lived so far." Meg wondered at the truth of that statement. She probably would have gone regardless, but she would have asked Tristan to accompany
her. Somehow she would have gotten her aunt alone and secured the needed information.

  "And what about taking someone with you? You know my orders about leaving Oak Tree unescorted."

  "Your orders?" Meg scoffed, "Tristan, you forget yourself. I'm not one of your slaves to order about. I have a mind of my own."

  "Then why not try using it?"

  Meg glared at his angry face, having, at the moment, no answer to what was probably, from his point of view, a logical question. She had taken a great risk to travel so far unescorted, but she hadn't lied. She'd truly believed the distance not so great.

  "What did Jarvis want?" Tristan asked, suddenly changing the subject.

  "Nothing. He said it was dangerous for me to travel alone and offered to escort me home."

  "And that's all?"

  "Of course that's all. What-"

  "He didn't say anything else? Didn't imply anything else?"

  "No, he didn't imply anything else." She shivered as she remembered the encounter.

  "Something else happened. Tell me."

  "Nothing happened. It's just that the man makes my skin crawl." Meg made a face. "I don't like him."

  "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know why. Maybe it's the way he looks at me."

  Tristan exploded with a stream of vile curses. Most of which she'd never heard before and could only imagine their meaning. He grabbed her shoulders again and gave her another shake . "Sonofabitch! Do you realize he couldn't take his eyes off your ass?"

  "Tristan, there's no need for you to be crude. The man was facing me, which would make it impossible to-"

  "He was looking all right." Tristan ignored the fact that to. her mind his statement made no sense. The truth was that Jarvis couldn't take his gaze from her hips, legs, and belly. And no one had to tell Tristan what was on the man's mind. "I know his kind. I suppose you never heard what they say about him?"

  "About Jarvis?" She pushed herself free. "No, what?"

  "That he likes woman to fight him. That he's brutally used every girl from the age of nine and up on the Johnston place."