by Holt, Cheryl
When he was with her, he had to be more careful, but caution was difficult. She rattled loose sentiments he typically kept at bay. Why was she so adept at flustering him? Why was he so on edge?
It had to be that he was simply disturbed by his trip to England, by his being parted from Raven. He needed to reassert himself, to bring himself back to the spot where he could focus on what mattered, on what he required from her.
“If I seem upset,”he claimed, “it’s because I am so enamored of you, and I can’t decide what to do about it.”
“You’re not enamored of me.”
“I am, chérie. I can’t deny it.”
He rolled onto his back and rolled her with him, so she was on top and straddling his lap. She was on her knees, a palm on the mattress to steady herself.
She glowered at him, her wariness evident, but there was a curiosity, as well. He fascinated her, and she couldn’t completely shield her interest.
He rested his hands on her flanks and drew her down so their privates connected. Her eyes widened with surprise.
Several combs had fallen from her hair, so he reached up and plucked out the remaining ones, the entire mass swirling down over her shoulders.
Had she any idea how magnificent she was? Had she any idea how enticing?
How was a man—especially one such as himself who had no moral character and no ability to practice restraint—to behave when she was temptation incarnate?
“Let me see you, chérie,”he murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why should I stop? Why?”
“Because it confuses me. It makes me like you.”
“You should like me. I’ve told you a dozen times over.”
He pulled on the lapels of her robe to reveal some cleavage, while she tried to tug the fabric together, but he wouldn’t permit it. He clasped her hands and held them in his.
“Let me see you,”he repeated.
He loosened the belt, the cloth sliding away so her breasts were bared. They were the perfect size, full and rounded, the tips a pretty pink.
He caressed one, then the other as she moaned with dismay and attempted to cover herself again, but he continued to prevent her.
“You’re embarrassing me,”she said, her cheeks aflame.
“How?”
“I hardly know you. We shouldn’t be here like this. We shouldn’t—”
He laid a finger on her lips, silencing her.
“Everything between us is right, Sarah. There’s no reason to be frightened or ashamed.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“What’s to understand?”
“You could have any woman you want, and I’m so opposed to an affair. Why harass me? Why bother with me?”
“You’re not opposed to an affair. Let me show you something.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“You’ll like it. I promise.”
A taut nipple dangled over his mouth, goading him to an insane degree. He sucked at it, laved it, bit and played until she was writhing with pleasure, but also to escape the stimulation he was providing.
He nibbled to the other breast, to the other nipple, and he gave it the same fierce attention. Quickly, he was perched on a perilous ledge where he might perpetrate any reckless deed. She had that capacity to arouse and provoke. If she ever learned the true state of her power over him, how might she use it to coerce him?
The prospects didn’t bear contemplating.
He eased her away and snuggled her to his chest, so she was sprawled across him. He frowned at the ceiling, wondering what he’d set in motion. He was fretting over her, over his plans for her, and he couldn’t guess what she was thinking.
Eventually, she looked up at him. She was scowling, her expression concerned and aggravated, with a touch of trepidation thrown into the mix.
“Why did you stop?” She was clutching her lapels again.
“I just didn’t suppose we should go any farther.”
She exhaled a relieved breath. “Good.”
He snorted with amusement. “Have you any idea what men and women do when they’re alone?”
“Yes, my friend, Caroline, is married, and her description of marital behavior doesn’t make me in any hurry to try it. She said it is extremely vile.”
“Vile? Really?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily take her word for it.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Have you considered that her husband might not be very skilled at amour? With another sort of fellow, it might actually be pleasant.”
Her scowl deepened. “Different men do it differently?”
“Yes. It can be very fun and fulfilling—depending on the expertise of your partner. And if you like him or not. That helps. Does she like her husband?”
“No. He’s a violent ass.”
He shrugged. “I rest my case.”
She grumbled but didn’t slither away, and he was in no rush to depart either, which was odd. He was still so titillated, his cock begging to be assuaged, but for once, he didn’t listen to it.
An unusual intimacy had blossomed, and he felt so much better merely from holding her, merely from being close. Demons had chased him to her room, but they seemed to have been vanquished.
He was content. He was…happy.
He stroked a lazy hand up and down her back, investigating her shape, imprinting it in his memory.
Suddenly, she popped up again, her blue eyes intent and searching.
“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”she asked.
“You mean physically hurt you?”
“Yes. You’re so angry sometimes. Caroline’s husband used to hit her and do…other things. You wouldn’t lash out at me like that, would you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“And you wouldn’t force me to…well…consort with you against my will?”
“I don’t ravish women,”he huffed. He didn’t have to. There were too many who were available and eager.
“Good,”she said again.
She slid off him, and he shifted so he could watch her. He never grew weary of looking at her. He was smitten as a young swain with his first girl.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,”he said.
“I’m not. You pretend to be vicious and tough—”
“I am vicious and tough.”
“—but beneath the bluster, you’re quite kind.”
“I am kind?”he scoffed.
“Yes. Your clerk, Mr. Thompson, told me that all of your servants are people you rescued from dire straits.”
He smiled a tight smile. “Perhaps Mr. Thompson should keep his mouth shut.”
“You continued your heroic streak by feeling you rescued me from Hedley.”
“I did rescue you from Hedley.”
“See? You’re kind. I just have to figure out how to bend you to my way of thinking so you’ll agree to let me go home.”
“You have no home.”
“Why don’t you give Bramble Bay to me?”
“Give you Bramble Bay?”
“Yes. It would solve both our problems.”
“How?”
“You can be shed of a property you never wanted.”
“I wanted it.”
“You did not. For whatever obscure reason, you enjoy punishing Mildred. But now, you own it, so it will always be a burden to you. Give it to me, and you are free of it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“No,”he said more firmly, irked that she had the right of it.
He didn’t want Bramble Bay, but he liked the notion that it was his. She was very bright in realizing that he should sign it over to her, but he never would.
If she had someplace where she could be safe from her family, there’d be no need to keep her, but he wouldn’t let her go. Not when he was still lusting
after her. Not when they shared a destiny he didn’t yet understand.
“You can be kind to others,”she pressed. “Be kind to me.”
“Don’t pester me, chérie. The more you ask, the more I will refuse simply so you know who’s in charge.”
“You’re being a bully.”
“Yes, and it’s my true tendency. Not kindness. You shouldn’t forget it.”
He didn’t like that she’d moved away, that she was no longer draped across him. He pulled her to him, and she tensed, trying to maintain the space between them.
He was annoyed by her paltry attempt. It was pointless to fight the inevitable, and he tightened his grip. Swiftly, she relented, beginning to grasp that she couldn’t win against him. The sooner she accepted that fact, the better off she would be.
He snuggled her to him and swallowed down a sigh of contentment.
“I’m all…jumbled inside,”she murmured. “What’s wrong with me? It’s as if my skin and veins have been scraped raw.”
“That’s your desire talking. We didn’t finish so you’re on edge.”
“What didn’t we finish?”
“There’s quite a bit more to it so you’ll be unsettled until you let me have my way with you.”
“You’ve already had plenty of your way. You don’t need more.”
“We’ll see. By tomorrow, I bet you’ll be begging me to sneak back up here so I can give you some relief from your physical misery.”
“In your dreams, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Yes, in my very vivid, very indecent dreams.”
She glanced up. “How about you? Are you on edge?”
“Oh, yes, I’m definitely on edge.”
She studied him, her shrewd assessment probing to the center of his cold, black heart. He couldn’t abide her detailed scrutiny. She believed he was kind. It was a hilarious opinion, but it tugged at old wounds, making him wish he’d grown up to be the man his mother had intended.
Instead, he was the sort who would toss his aunt out on the road—penniless—with nary a ripple in his conscience. He was the sort who would kill his own brother. His next plan was to start attacking his father’s ships, to cripple his father financially, and he’d laugh while doing it.
It was a despicable commentary on his character, and for once, he yearned to be someone else. Sarah looked at him and saw a different man, a misguided but salvageable man. What would it be like if he could be that man for her?
He nestled her down, and she yawned and mumbled, “It’s nice to be here with you like this.”
“It is.”
“I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
“Neither have I.”
She snorted with mirth. “Liar.”
“When I am in bed with a woman, I don’t sleep with her. I’m busy with other activities.”
“Spoken like a genuine libertine.”
The word libertine hardly described his sexual proclivities. He dabbled with whores for carnal pleasure, for carnal release. There was no seduction or wooing involved.
He was intrigued that Sarah wasn’t a doxy. Her chaste presence shined refreshingly on his sordid existence. She made him feel cleaner, less sullied and despoiled.
She yawned again. “You can’t stay in here.”
“Yes, I can. In case you didn’t notice, this is a castle, and I am its king.”
He could sense her smile.
“You’re so vain,”she said.
“I certainly am.”
“I don’t want the servants to find you.”
“They won’t, chérie.”
And if the servants discovered him in her bed, they wouldn’t give it a second thought. They came from rough backgrounds where lechery wasn’t surprising and practically expected.
“Close your eyes,”he told her.
“I might. I’m so tired.”
“I’ll wait until you doze off. Then I’ll leave.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
With their passion ebbing, the temperature had cooled. He yanked the blankets over her, and he listened as her breathing slowed, as her body relaxed.
She liked him more than she cared to admit, and it was possible, too, that she was lonely—as he was lonely. It was a quiet night, and it was comforting not to spend it by himself.
She fell into a deep slumber, her cheek on his chest, her arm on his waist. She was so gullible and trusting, but people trusted him at their peril—as she would eventually learn.
Yet for the moment, he wouldn’t focus on the negative, wouldn’t focus on his low character or evil nature.
He remained much longer than he should have. She was so small and slender, and he felt manly and protective in a fashion he never had the chance to exhibit, but definitely enjoyed.
Dawn broke out on the water, the first hint of light changing the sky from black to indigo.
He slid to the floor and dawdled by the bed, studying her, missing her already. He was suffering from the strongest urge to climb back in, to be next to her when her pretty blue eyes fluttered open later in the morning. But the notion was terrifying and bizarre.
He couldn’t be smitten and wouldn’t allow himself to be infatuated. Bonds only made a man vulnerable, only distracted him and exposed him to jeopardy.
He turned and tiptoed away—while he had the fortitude to go.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“How dare you show your face in here.”
“You can’t hide from me forever.”
“If you don’t think so, then you don’t know me very well.”
Caroline glared at Raven, wishing she was bigger and stronger so she could push him out of her room. She was furious with him, but even more furious with herself.
Sarah was her only friend, her true sister, the one constant through thick and thin. Sarah—and Bramble Bay—had been Caroline’s beacon of safety when she’d run away from her husband.
But when Sarah had needed to flee, Caroline had failed her.
Once Mr. Sinclair had realized Sarah was gone, he and Mr. Hook had come to Caroline for answers. Caroline had expected them to question her, and she’d been positive she could keep Sarah’s secrets. Yet Mr. Hook had simply stared at her, Mr. Sinclair had bluffed and barked, and she’d tattled like a frightened ninny.
She was ashamed and embarrassed, and from the moment she’d demonstrated her pathetic lack of loyalty, she’d avoided Mr. Hook like the plague.
She still wasn’t sure why she’d participated in the carnal incident he’d previously instigated, but clearly, he was dangerous to her equilibrium and her moral character. If she spent any significant amount of time with him, what else might she try? Who else might she betray?
The prospects were too upsetting to consider.
For all intents and purposes, she was married. A woman with a husband—even a violent, drunken husband—couldn’t have sexual relations with strangers.
“Go away,”she firmly said.
“No.”
“If you don’t, I’ll scream.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic.”
“I will. I mean it.”
He shrugged. “So scream. Who will rescue you? Hedley? Mildred?”
He closed her door, spun the key in the lock, and marched across the floor.
At his determined approach, she shrieked with dismay and raced from her sitting room, through her bedchamber and into the dressing room beyond. It was the scene of their prior indiscretion, so she was heading to the precise spot where she shouldn’t be.
“I hate you,”she fumed as she whirled around.
“You do not.”
“You made me tell on Sarah. You made me betray her.”
“I made you?”
“Yes.”
He frowned, then admitted, “I suppose I did.”
“I didn’t want Mr. Sinclair to take her to France.”
Tears surged into her eyes, and she swiped them away, but her distress didn’t deter
him. He pressed her to the wall, grabbed her thighs and lifted her so her legs were wrapped around his waist. He shoved at the hem of her skirt, his privates crushed to hers.
“What will Mr. Sinclair do to her?”she asked.
“What do you think he’ll do?”
“He’ll ruin her.”
“Yes, but I imagine she’ll like it.”
“Spoken like a typical, vain male.”
“She’s too old to still be a virgin. She’ll be happy to have her chastity surrendered.”
“Not to him! It should be for her husband!”
“Why? So some bumbling oaf like your husband can make her miserable?”
She could hardly argue the point, and she muttered, “She’s too good for him.”
“Of course she is.”
“He’ll hurt her, he’ll—”
“He won’t hurt her. He’ll seduce her and use her kindly.”
“And then what?”
“I have no idea.”
“Will I ever see her again?”
“I have no idea about that either.”
“She was my friend. I can’t bear it that he’s taken her away.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to distract you so you’re not quite so lonely.”
He cupped her with his palm, ripping her drawers, shredding the fabric so he could slip two fingers inside her. He was rough and crude, as Archie had always been, but with Mr. Hook, she didn’t mind. His callous handling was exciting.
He was very strong, holding her to him as he pushed at the bodice of her dress, as he exposed her breasts. He dipped down and sucked on one, biting it, as his thumb flicked over the sensitive spot at the vee of her legs.
In an instant, she shattered with pleasure, but he didn’t let up. As she spiraled down, as she regained her composure, he’d somehow unbuttoned his trousers and impaled himself.
His rod was thick and solid, and he began to flex his hips. He was very aroused, the wildness of their coupling quickly spurring him to the end. He growled with satisfaction and emptied himself, spewing his seed into her womb, and for a brief second, she was anxious over the conclusion.
He didn’t appear to care if he got her into a jam. Nor had she counseled caution or urged restraint. He goaded her to recklessness. What if he’d impregnated her? How would she explain it?
