The disturbing thought curdled his stomach.
Emptying his mind of such troubling musings, he watched Cora for a moment and then slid into place beside her, matching her movements with rusty precision. She didn’t miss a step, accepting his company as if she had expected him.
The calming motions were thought to enhance one’s physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. As Guy’s hands pushed forward from his chest, he knew this to be true. The movements came to him easily, even after so long an absence.
Their budding connection resurfaced, and his body responded to her nearness, despite his meditative state. He set his jaw and continued to match her form to form until she finally brought the session to a close.
Their gazes caught, and held; neither was as relaxed as they should have been after such an exercise. He tried to keep his approach of quick, seemingly meaningless touches in the forefront of his thoughts and failed. His mind warred with the demands of his body. He used guilt and shame and honor to repress his forbidden impulses. He didn’t want to ruin the tranquility of the moment, nor could he overlook the welcome gleaming in her eyes.
His cock bucked against its restraints, and sweat gathered at the base of his neck. He shot a glance toward the tree trunk where Bingham had propped himself, only to find the space empty. Either the old tar had faded into the trees to give them more privacy, or he felt his mistress was in capable hands and went back to the house. Either way, they were alone.
Sweat trickled down his spine.
Guy closed the distance between them, making no move to touch her. Beautiful green eyes rimmed in piercing blue skimmed his face and paused on his lips. There, they lingered for an unbearable moment, heating his already simmering blood.
Had she ever been intimate with a man that didn’t require the pursuit of information? Did her body know what it meant to be truly loved? Another more insidious question surfaced, one dredged up from the primitive depths of his soul. Had she ever experienced a full and shuddering release?
He bent forward until their warm breaths mingled and was gratified when she held her ground. “If you’re going to run away, now would be the time.”
“Is that a threat?” she whispered, her words pelting softly against his cheek.
His nose nuzzled against hers, drinking in her salty feminine scent. “A friendly warning.” If she retreated, he would be damn disappointed. He hadn’t wanted to give her an excuse to withdraw, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of her vulnerable state.
Her breath hitched, and he was certain she would step back, breaking the sensual haze enveloping them. His own breathing suspended, waiting for her recoil. But she remained in place, her chest rising in quick succession. Guy pressed on, skimming his lips across hers.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She tipped her head back—an invitation no mortal man could refuse, not even one who was burdened with altruistic purpose. He nipped at her lips, coaxing them to accept a deeper kiss. When they finally parted, his tongue slipped inside the moist, warm center they guarded with such concentrated care.
***
The area between Cora’s legs pulsed and clenched and pricked with each stroke of Guy’s wicked tongue. A long-buried groan roared its way up her throat and into his mouth where he matched it with one of his own. Her fingers stabbed through his hair, holding him in place while she ravaged his lips with her desperation. She wanted to consume his very essence. She wanted to take all he would give before realization of whom he kissed struck.
Even now, he could be battling with his conscience—she’s too injured; she’s my best friend’s sister; she’s slept with the enemy. A pang of regret and fear seared her chest. She deepened the kiss and fumbled with the leather strip holding his gorgeous hair. When she felt the thong give, she plunged her hands into the thick curtain of dark strands and flattened her body against his.
If she could overwhelm his senses, maybe he would push away the unpleasant questions until his carnal needs were fulfilled. Which, in turn, would satisfy hers. She deepened the kiss, determined to conquer the weakness in her mind that made her shy away from a man’s touch.
After a moment, she drew back far enough to see his uncivilized appearance and to show him with her eyes how much she needed this. His full lips glistened from their passionate kiss, and his nostrils flared with each inhalation. His eyes, always dark and unreadable, glowed black as night.
He cupped her face in his large hands. “I’ve waited so long,” he murmured. His confession confused her, but he didn’t give her long to consider his words. “So beautiful. So much more than I deserve.” His mouth covered hers, and a wild desperation overtook them both. This melding of lips was deeper, more consuming. More everything.
This he could not mask behind everyday courtesies like escorting her to dinner, handing her a flower, or helping her down the stairs. This was raw and intimate. This must be passion.
Her hands shook with unfettered need as they descended over his powerful arms, trembling arms that were locked in place at his side.
She frowned. When had he stopped holding her face?
After days of enduring his furtive touches and aching closeness, Cora was confused by his inaction, until she realized he waited for her invitation.
Warmth pierced her heart.
“Hold me.” She spoke the beseeching words against his lips while her fingers coaxed his hands open.
“I don’t want to frighten you, Cora. This goes beyond reassuring touches.”
Her mind began its familiar descent into hell. She brushed her fingers over his cheek. Conquer your fear. “I understand.”
“Do you, Cora?” he asked tenderly. “Your mind is already turning to a dark place. I can see it in your beautiful, troubled eyes. What if our desire takes us beyond the point of my control? Will you still crave my touch then?”
The barrier she had erected to mentally survive his lovemaking crumbled in the wake of his warning. She was so focused on obtaining her own pleasure that she hadn’t stopped to think about the emotional torture she was inflicting on Guy. How could she be so consumed with her own wants and not notice the awful effect all this had on him?
Shame coated her thoughts, blurring her vision.
When his hands cupped her jaw this time, they were shaking. “Cora, sweet. Do not fret.”
“How could I be so stupid?” she asked on a choked whisper.
He kissed her with exquisite care. “You’re many things, Cora deBeau, but stupid does not make the list.”
She stepped closer and placed both palms against his chest. His heart pounded in time with hers. “Idiot?”
He settled his hands on her waist. “No.”
“Clodhead?”
His lips twitched, and he pulled her into his arms. “Uh-uh.”
“Dimwit? Fuddlebrain?”
“Not even close.”
“Foolish?”
He hesitated a moment too long, which struck a humorous chord with her. “Guess I should have stopped at fuddlebrain.”
His hand stroked up the length of her back. “Now that we’ve established I’m a brutish ass and you’re a foolish woman, I want to share something with you.”
Excitement flared inside her veins. She snuggled closer. “Oh?”
“What I’m about to show you will change everything between us.”
Cora’s anxiety returned for reasons unrelated to her imprisonment. “I’m ready.” And she was.
“Turn around, sweetheart.”
Trepidation and a sweet taste of anticipation clutched her heart. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
Even as she swiveled around, she realized presenting her back to him forced her into a vulnerable position, indicating a great deal of faith and a willingness to relinquish control. While she waited with trembling expectancy for the first touch of his hands, she also realized control was the last thing she wanted to retain at that moment.
/> He stepped up behind her and clasped her shoulders; the heat from his exertions penetrated the fine material of her silk tunic, sending chill bumps racing along the surface of her skin. He must have felt her resulting shiver, for his next words whispered across her cheek.
“Trust me.”
She swallowed. “I do.”
“Hmm.” His warm hands brushed down her arms until his fingers could interlace over hers. Then he urged her open palms toward her pai jamah-covered thigh, coaxing her hands to glide against the smooth material, creating a delicious, forbidden friction. Her womb clenched against the sensation, searching, needing, grasping for something unfamiliar to her.
The scorching heat of his open-mouth kiss against the side of her neck sent a jolt of pure lust through her. She pressed her upper body against his chest, angling her head away to give him unimpeded access.
He accepted her offering, covering every inch of her bare flesh with moist, luscious kisses. His attack on her senses did not stop there. Oh, no.
If this were a skirmish, she would label his next move after the age-old war tactic of divide and conquer. With his hands still covering hers, he slid their entwined fingers beneath her tunic, caressing her stomach and skimming the underside of her left breast. The exotic feel of her own hand riding the planes of her body, studying every contour, made the area between her legs weep with excitement. She felt her nipples harden into tight nubs, flaunting their readiness.
Their clasped right hands broke off and burrowed inside the warm depths of her breeches, paralyzing her thoughts and locking her muscles. She focused on the downward descent of their hands with acute enthrallment.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Guy?”
“Have I lost your trust so quickly, Cora?” he asked in a husky, teasing voice.
Turning her head slightly to the left, she sought the heat of his words. “N-no. I just… I don’t—” she drew in a calming breath. “You startled me, is all.”
The side of his nose lay against her temple, and his mouth brushed against her flushed cheeks as he spoke. “I’m going to do much more than startle you, my sweet.”
Putting action to words, he guided her hand to the juncture between her legs. Cora braced herself against the security of his broad shoulders. She waited for the first illicit touch with the keenest anticipation. The tips of their joined middle fingers stopped short of the sensitive bud guarding her entrance. Then he moved his attention to their joined left hands, curling her fingers around her breast and positioning her thumb at the base of her nipple. Close enough to feel stimulating heat. Far enough away to feel bereft.
Divide and conquer.
She knew not where to focus her attention. Both hands teetered on the precipice of an abyss. One leap to the wrong side could either descend her into the licking flames of hell or raise her to the dazzling rays of heaven.
Even though she couldn’t be sure which awaited her over the threshold, she wanted it, needed it. Prayed for it. Why did he hesitate? Why did he torture her with the longings of her own body? “Guy,” she said in a breathless murmur.
“Ready?” His voice held a rough edge; his sharp breaths cooled her heated cheeks.
“Get on with it,” she said through gritted teeth. She arched her back, forcing her breast against her palm, ignoring the pinch to her side. Then she rotated her spine, trying to capture a more satisfying contact with her aching nipple.
“Patience,” he whispered on a low chuckle.
With a precision that nearly buckled her knees, he gently squeezed her nipple at the same time he plunged their long middle fingers into her slick, wet folds. Her back bowed higher and her bottom bucked against the hard ridge of his member. Their fingers pressed deeper into her center, as if anchoring her in place while a storm seethed all around them. Before long, he took over, kneading her breast and exploring her aching depths. She reached over her head and laced her fingers beneath the fall of his long hair, mooring herself in a web of sensual ecstasy.
Guy’s manipulations and her new position created a maelstrom of oversensitive nerves and tingling expectation.
And then a new feeling emerged, one still too distant to grasp, one she knew instinctively would be like no other she had ever experienced. It pulsed closer, a bright light blinding her to the outside world. It throbbed with heat, flushing her body.
She grew wetter, hotter, more unrestrained.
Though her gaze flicked from tree branch to tree branch to azure painted sky, all her concentration was trained on the kneading action of his masterful finger. Dear God.
“Kiss me,” he breathed, part command, part plea.
Eagerly, she turned to him. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue swept inside, scorching her already battered senses. The pulsing heat grew closer until Guy shifted his attention to her hard little nub. One flick was all it took to release the building inferno that propelled her to the heavens.
An ungovernable cry ripped from her throat, breaking their kiss. Pleasurable needles pricked along her spine and gathered in battering clusters between her legs. Guy’s hand covered her mound until the throbbing deep in her center subsided.
Uncomprehending of what just happened, Cora stood frozen for several heartbeats. And then, her arms suddenly weighed ten stone, and they dropped to her side. Limp and useless.
Guy lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his hard breaths striking her flesh in pleasurable beats. He kissed his way up to her temple while easing his hands from beneath her clothes. The gentle lapping of the lake’s water against the shore brought her to gradual awareness. Her languid body did not wish to move from the warm shelter of his arms, and Guy seemed content to hold her for as long as she would allow.
This time when she glanced around the secluded glade, everything glowed brighter, more colorful, almost cheerful. Perhaps she was projecting her own altered state on her surroundings. To think she had left the house a few hours ago, sick of the routine she had established to avoid Guy’s impossible charm, only to wind up dangling languid and satiated in the comfort of his arms. His kisses had shattered all the power behind the excuses she had devised and ineffectually hidden behind.
“I hope you’re not thinking,” he said against her ear.
She turned in his arms. “And label myself an idiot again?”
He chuckled, burrowing his nose into the curve of her neck.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly.
“You are most welcome,” he said. “But what exactly are you thanking me for?”
Heat swept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I have never… I mean that’s never happened—”
“I think I understand,” he said, interrupting her clumsy attempt at an explanation. “And you are welcome. Very, very welcome.” He kissed the sensitive area behind her earlobe before straightening, a rogue’s grin on his face.
His intense gaze made her feel unsure. “What?”
“I cannot recall ever enjoying a Tai Chi session more.”
She swatted his arm. “I should hope not. We were children, and there are rules against such things.”
When he laughed at her quip, his hardness came into contact with her stomach. Her eyes widened. “Guy, you didn’t—” She glanced down between them. “You’re still—”
Bending forward, he kissed her. A gentle, featherlight pressing of the lips. “So sweet.” His dark gaze dropped to her mouth. “Next time.”
Next time. Longing sparked at the apex of her legs where Guy’s fingers had soothed her sensual ache.
He grasped her hand and led her to a large, fallen tree. Atop the lichen-crusted trunk sat her red leather slippers. “Do you wear these so you can find them in the woods?”
She sat next to them, slanting him a cross look. “Noooo. I wear them because they make me happy.” As you do. At that moment, she wished she had worn a pretty dress rather than her pai jamahs.
He knelt beside her and patted his knee, a request for her foot.
“I’m not so
fragile, Guy. I can manage my own shoes.”
“I know. Now give me your foot.”
Reminiscent of his demand in the library, she knew he wouldn’t budge until she complied. “Stubborn man.” She extended her leg and couldn’t help but smile when he dusted dirt and debris from her bare soles like a father would a recalcitrant child.
“We make a good pair.”
Did they? She had always felt a connection to him. Something deeper than a mere friendship, something that had unfolded petal by fragile petal over the years.
A realization made all the more acute when her young girl’s admiration had transformed into a woman’s awakening. Her discernment of his masculine charms had gradually surfaced. She had noticed small things, like the magnificent length of his ebony eyelashes, the adorable dimple in his right cheek, and the fine hairs that peppered the backs of his hands.
She had felt awkward and guilty, especially once her focus shifted to admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the musculature of his thighs, and the beauty of his angular face. This was Guy, for goodness sake—practically her brother. Her thoughts had seemed immoral, wrong somehow, or at least that’s how she had felt at the time.
Her preoccupation with her friend grew to a degree that had kept her insides in a quivering knot any time he drew near, and her normally easy quips would lodge in her throat with just one of his teasing winks.
When she began imagining all her days spent in his company and her lifelong quest to avenge her parents’ murders began to fade, she started avoiding his company and eventually set off for France. She had hoped distance and the distraction of her mission would rid her of the unbearable longing he had stirred in her young heart.
She had hoped in vain.
During the intervening years, Cora had been able to shield her thoughts of him for long periods of time. Then she would catch a glimpse of an ebony-haired man or a whiff of spicy sandalwood that would spark her recollection, and she would wonder where he was at that moment, wonder if he missed her, thought of her, yearned for her.
When Cora had first spotted him in Valère’s dungeon, she knew then—even through the pain and fear—that her feelings for Guy were more than a silly girl’s infatuation. And she also realized those years in France had erased any chance of having a life with him.
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