by Robyn DeHart
Vanessa stopped pacing. They had both been nude. And Violet had rubbed her naked body against Jeremy’s, ran her hands over his torso. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps all that was required to produce passion was a lack of clothing. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She must have briefly fallen asleep, as she still wore her brown wool dress, which did absolutely nothing to enhance her figure. That had never been anything she’d taken care with, choosing her clothes for their durability rather than those that made her bosom look the most voluptuous.
She was attractive enough, she supposed, not too round, but not too thin, either. Of course, it mattered not because there was absolutely nothing she could do to enhance her figure right now. She would merely remove her clothing and press herself against him, and perhaps he would take over and do the rest. Then the damage would be done.
She stood in front of the mirror and methodically removed all of her hair pins, laying them in a neat row on the dressing table. Next she pushed down her stockings. She unhooked her dress and slid out of it, then removed her undergarments until she stood in the middle of the small bedchamber completely nude. The chill in the air scattered gooseflesh over her unprotected skin. She hoped that didn’t make her look unappealing.
What would she do if he sent her away? Refused to touch her and walked her back to her room?
No, she wouldn’t think like that. She could do this. She was an intelligent woman, and according to her mother, men were simple creatures who paid attention to their own pleasures in life.
Without another thought, she pulled on her nightrail, tugged it tight against her, and then went in search of her husband. She knocked on his bedchamber door, and he grunted what sounded somewhat like “enter,” so she pushed the door open, then closed it behind her.
He sat in the corner of the room in a wing-backed chair poring over a small leatherbound book. He looked up and his eyebrows rose with surprise. His eyes roamed the length of her, obviously noticing she wore only a nightrail. “Vanessa, what’s the matter?”
She cleared her throat. “Nothing. I merely wanted to discuss something with you.”
He set the notes aside and rose to his feet. He’d changed into trousers, and his white linen shirt was open at the neck, revealing a swath of dark chest hair. His long hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms.
He was muscular and strong, a fine male specimen. He had lovely eyes; she’d noticed that about him from the first, and so she deduced that the rest of him would be equally attractive. She might not be interested in matters of the heart or loin, but she knew a handsome man when she saw one.
If she stood here much longer, she’d start talking, and then she might just ruin her plan. So she took a deep breath, and in one swift movement, she untied the nightrail and let it fall to her feet.
His eyes widened, then he swallowed visibly.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked. A frown settled on his forehead, suggesting that he was displeased with her seduction efforts. But then his gaze took in her body, his eyes moving over her as intense as a touch.
She tried to think of the appropriate response, but remembered that Violet and Jeremy had not been talking. They’d only been touching and kissing and moaning. And she tended to get into trouble, especially when she spoke to men. She closed the distance between them and pressed her body to his.
“Vanessa,” he told her, “you are dancing too close to the devil.”
Again she said nothing. She continued to stay precisely where she was, her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs against his. He sucked in a breath as she rubbed her nipples against his chest. Nothing about this was as she’d imagined. She knew that he’d be firm, but she’d never thought he’d be this warm. She took one hand and ran it up his arm. He was strong, stronger than she’d realized, and his arm was as hard as the marble statue in her mother’s garden. Her heart beat wildly, her nerves prickling her skin. If this seduction didn’t work, she was in trouble. She remembered what she’d seen her sister do, and so she closed her eyes and tossed her head back, releasing a low moan.
“God’s teeth, woman,” Graeme said. He grabbed both of her arms and held her to him, then he slammed his mouth down on hers. The sudden kiss alarmed her. This was not the kind of kiss that she’d shared with Jeremy. He had simply put his lips to hers; Graeme devoured her. His lips were hot and hard against her own, and when his tongue invaded her mouth, she gasped. It wasn’t unpleasant; quite the contrary.
He took with this kiss, demanded, and her body seemed to react by itself. Something was definitely happening inside of her, as if her skin had taken breath.
Perhaps she was capable of lust.
And that was the last coherent thought Vanessa had as Graeme took over the seduction. She vaguely noticed when he removed her spectacles and placed them on a side table. But then he continued to kiss her, his hard body melding against hers, and she forgot everything else. She was no longer cold; the gooseflesh had long since disappeared and, in its place, heat and fire skimmed across her skin.
When Graeme’s hands left her arms to stroke down her back and across her abdomen, flames followed in the wake of his touch. And when one hand moved up to cup her breast, she involuntarily cried out.
Lust. She was experiencing lust. Her whole body felt alive and full of energy and sensations. She wished she could simultaneously experience this and watch it so she could examine her own facial expressions, record her every sensation. This was science in the making.
Graeme pulled her to him and kissed her again, this time more slowly and with more tenderness. He picked her up, cradling her to him as he carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. In no more than a minute, he’d removed his clothes and climbed atop her, the weight of his heavy frame unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. The hairs along his legs and torso tickled her own flesh every time he moved over her.
His kisses continued. And desire continued to soar through her body. So new were the experiences that Vanessa reveled in each one, every touch, every breath, every kiss.
He moved his hand between them, ran his fingers up her thigh and then into the curls nestled between her legs. As if he’d shot electricity through her body, jolts of pleasure tingled over her. She jerked beneath this touch, but he continued his exploration until he’d plunged a finger inside her. She cried out again. Her body was ready for him, she knew that. Knew what would happen next. Her mother had explained coupling to her, had said it could be uncomfortable, perhaps even painful if the man did not properly prepare the woman. But Graeme had done everything right, had known precisely where to touch her and how.
She opened her legs knowing that he would want to enter her, and she relaxed, closed her eyes, and waited for the next sensation. Thrills shimmied through her stomach when she felt him, hard and warm, settle between her thighs. Instinctively she moved her legs, pulling them up and then wrapping them around his body.
He groaned, then thrust into her body. There was a pinch of pain as her body took him in, but as he began to move, the delicious sensations started to build. He nibbled at her neck and her collarbone as he moved within her, and she kept her legs where they were, tightened around his waist. Over and over, he pushed in and out, and the pleasure crescendoed until she thought she would go mad from it. Again he slipped his finger in between them, but this time he found the nub hidden between her folds.
She sucked in a breath as he ran his finger against her, all the while thrusting. Oh. Oh. Yes. Her breathing was labored, and perspiration slid down her neck and between her breasts.
This was it, something was happening—and then it did. His finger flicked one more time, and pleasure exploded within her, creating wave after wave of sensations she’d never felt before.
Oh yes!
Then she felt Graeme’s release as he fell onto her. Their labored breathing was the only sound.
She s
miled. There would be no annulment now.
Her mother hadn’t told her about this. No one had warned her. No one could have. She wouldn’t have believed them.
Chapter Seven
Graeme lay there for several minutes, not quite believing what had just happened. He’d never intended to lay a finger on Vanessa. Although certainly the thought had occurred to him, they’d agreed on an annulment. Now that was impossible. Now she was his wife in every way. Had that been her intention?
He looked at her sleeping form, her arms flung above her head, hair splayed across the pillow, pleasure staining her cheeks. She slept hard, her rhythmic breathing slow and steady. What the hell was he supposed to do?
How could any man have resisted her? Her attempt at a seduction, he realized now, had been rather awkward. She knew nothing about the subtleties of luring a man into bed. Yet that was precisely where they’d ended up, because he’d taken one look at her body and desire had surged through him. Even now, with the sheet draped around her waist, she looked beautiful. Unlike most women, she seemed not overly concerned with her appearance. What other woman would wear her spectacles to a seduction? And she wasn’t shy about her body, which in and of itself was arousing.
Her pert breasts rose and fell with each breath; the rosy hue of her nipples enticed him even now. Her body was not as overly curvy as he usually preferred in his lovers. Vanessa was thin, but her waist narrowed and then her hips were rounded nicely. She was beautiful.
And his wife.
He hadn’t even wanted a damned wife. He leaned against the headboard, his arms cradling his head. Didn’t that just damn it all.
Before this night, he’d never lain with a virgin. This woman was his in a way no other woman had ever been. A surge of protection welled inside him. He’d be the only man to ever touch her. The only man to cup her breasts and bite her neck. The only man to enter her, spill his seed within her. Again lust filled his body, and he grew heavy with need for her. Well, if he was to remain married to the woman, at least he desired her.
He leaned over and covered her breast with his mouth. She stirred, then moaned as he continued to lave kisses on her tender skin. Her hand reached up, threading her fingers through his hair.
He’d take her again this night.
She moaned again as he slid into her. God, she felt good—hot, slick, and tight. And as her pleasure mounted and her soft cries came faster and faster, he thought again and again: his woman, his wife and no one else’s.
The following morning, Graeme sneaked out the back door of the cottage and nearly ran into his brother.
“Dougal, what the devil are you doing up and about so early?” Graeme hissed.
“I had to tend to the animals. You’ve been out of Scotland so long you’ve forgotten where your dinner comes from?” Dougal teased.
His brother’s words jabbed at him. They were meant in fun, but the boy was right. England made him soft, made him pampered and forgetful that his family didn’t live in the same luxurious lifestyle he did. Not for lack of trying on his part. As soon as his father had died, he’d begged his mother to move the family to London, but she’d refused. She would not leave her beloved Scotland, not that Graeme blamed her in the least.
“I’ve got to go,” Graeme said. He wanted to be far enough behind Niall to not be noticed, but not so far that he lost him.
“Where are you off to this morning?” Dougal asked. “I could help.” He set the bucket down. His brother’s face was sharpening, becoming less boylike and more like that of a man. But a determined jaw could do nothing to hide the youthful enthusiasm shining in his eyes.
“Not this time; I need to do this on my own.” He patted the boy’s shoulder. “But we’ll talk later today.” Graeme turned and walked down the path away from the house.
He climbed the hillside to the castle ruins. If Niall was searching for the legendary Loch Ness treasure, then more than likely he was doing so within the caverns that wove beneath Castle Urquhart. The very caves he’d been in many times searching for his own bloody treasure. Today was not the day to look for the decoder, though. He only wanted to follow Niall a while, and see if he met anyone there.
Graeme thought of Vanessa while he climbed. He had consummated a marriage he hadn’t intended to stay in, and he’d done it three times. The rocks from the hillside bit into Graeme’s boots, but he didn’t care. He’d come here with a task to complete, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d get so distracted by his new bride that he’d fail to accomplish it—not to mention the work Solomon’s had requested of him. Hell, he was curious himself about what his cousin was up to.
Niall had been helpful to Vanessa, offering her a place to stay. In his experience, the English were not overly friendly; instead they were polite and proper to a fault. Yet Niall had brought her back to his home, and they had been chatting in his study when Graeme had found them, as if they were old friends.
There had to be something more. Niall had borrowed that book of Vanessa’s. She’d said it was a book about fossils, though. It seemed unlikely Niall would take time out to study fossils. Solomon’s, though, would not be suspicious without reason. Niall had been behaving in such a way that Jensen had traveled all the way up to Scotland to enlist Graeme’s help. No, there had to be something more useful to him in that book, and Vanessa simply was unaware of it.
Once Graeme discovered Niall’s secret, then he could focus on his own interests. In the meantime, he needed to get Vanessa back to London, where she would be safe.
Graeme continued climbing the hill, and the castle grew closer. Much of the castle’s outer wall remained intact, but the structure itself was composed of mostly crumbled-down walls with one partially standing tower. The entrance to the caves lay deep within the belly of the ruins.
Quickly, yet quietly, he moved, trying to make good time before his wife woke up and realized he’d deserted her—and to prevent Niall from discovering him. Niall had crept past Graeme’s family’s cottage in the early morning hours, and Graeme had waited fifteen minutes before following his cousin. Niall was a talented explorer, or else Solomon’s would not have welcomed him into their fold, so chances were he’d be watching for anyone coming behind him.
Graeme climbed over a collapsed wall, then skirted beneath what remained of an archway as he entered the ruins of Castle Urquhart. He’d always loved this old place. Despite its condition, it still looked very much a fortress guarding over the loch. There was another entrance into the caverns, below the castle and above the rocky shore, but it was difficult to get to. And Niall had been heading in this direction.
Stepping inside one of the few remaining rooms of the castle that still claimed four walls, Graeme made his way down a stone staircase.
He hit the bottom of the staircase and then started down the tunnel to his left. At first the area resembled a stone hallway, but the farther he walked, the narrower the passage became, until he found himself standing in a cavern. Gone were the manmade bricks. In their place were the slick, moss-covered sides of a cave. Graeme’s lungs chilled as he took a deep breath. The air was heavy with the scent of his stale, cold, and chalklike surroundings.
He moved farther into the darkness and was pleased to see that Niall had already lit some of the torches attached to the wall. They were far apart, so the light was spread thin, providing only enough visibility to keep moving forward. Graeme was glad of the torches, although he had brought his own lantern, along with some tools and a gun, in the pack he carried over his shoulder.
There was a slight thump from somewhere behind him, then several rocks broke off the wall and crumbled to the ground. Someone was following him. Graeme stopped walking, molded himself to the damp cavern wall, and listened. Definite steps moved through the tunnel behind him.
Perhaps his cousin’s partner? Graeme started moving forward again, trying to gain some ground on the intruder. The deeper into the cave he walked, the colder the air became. A draft shuddered around him, and the torches nearest
him were extinguished, leaving him in darkness. Again he molded himself against the cavern wall and waited. The footsteps grew closer.
Graeme inhaled slowly. Soft footfalls beat against the ground of the tunnel as the intruder approached. A breeze fluttered against him when the person passed in front of Graeme’s hiding place. Graeme reached out, grabbed the body, and slammed it against the cavern wall.
Upon impact, the person released a groan that was decidedly more feminine than Graeme had been anticipating. The arms beneath his hands felt far too soft and small to be a man’s.
“That hurt,” she said softly.
“Vanessa!” he whispered. “What the devil are you doing following me?”
“You left early, and you were so careful, so quiet. I deduced you were attempting to conceal something from me.” Then she was quiet for a moment before continuing, and he wished he could see her. “It is my wifely duty to investigate such matters. That is, until I am no longer your wife.”
He exhaled loudly, and the sound echoed around them.
“Precisely where are you going in the dark?” she asked. “I brought along some candles, in my bag, for precisely this purpose. Shall I light one?”
“No, you shall not.”
“Are you going to release me?”
He hadn’t let her go yet. He was enjoying the feel of her womanly curves pressed against his own body. He had her pinned to the wall, and that was precisely what he wanted for the moment. He dipped his head so that his breath brushed against her shoulder. “Perhaps I had other things in mind.”
