Captive of Sin

by Anna Campbell

  “Charis…” he said in a dangerously low voice. Her mockery cut him to the bone. Especially as it held an unfortunate echo of his genuine concerns. “You go too far.”

  “Well, it’s all so absurd, Gideon.” She spread her hands in a frustrated gesture, the movement making her breasts jiggle enticingly under the sheer silk. His mouth dried, and his hands flexed as if they cupped those firm mounds.

  “We love each other.” Her cheeks flooded with pink. “Why are you standing half a room away?”

  A glance under her eyelashes sent blood sizzling through his veins. Damn her, she could give Circe lessons. He braced his shoulders as if only physical restraint stopped him diving on her.

  “Because I can’t touch you without losing my mind,” he snarled, need thundering through his body.

  She slid her legs over the bed and stood straight before him. “I touched you before, and you didn’t notice.”

  “You…”

  He started back as if she touched him now. He’d vaguely noticed she’d taken his arm. When was the last time he’d vaguely noticed even the merest contact with anyone?

  Good God, could she be right about sexual excitement offering a reprieve? None of the doctors had suggested it. Ever since his rescue from Rangapindhi, he’d assumed he faced a life of eternal celibacy. Had he been mistaken?

  He compelled his lust-fogged mind to review the facts. He’d just maintained extremely intimate contact with his wife. He was far from composed—he was fuming and upset and randy as hell. But if he felt ill, it was his conscience that troubled him, not memories of Rangapindhi.

  As if she knew he at last took her idea seriously, she stepped forward and placed one hand flat over his heart. Her cheeks were brilliant with color. “Gideon, what just happened was so lovely. Let’s not spoil it by fighting.”

  He tensed for the familiar sick reaction. There was only the warmth of her hand and the hardening of his cock, which definitely approved of her plan for a normal marriage.

  “Lovely?” he forced out in blank astonishment.

  Lovely and exciting. His brain tried to make sense of what she said. Neither word seemed adequate to describe that earth-shattering sex. But he was human enough to be grateful she hadn’t found his untrammeled passion completely distasteful.

  She nodded and sent him a smile that made his gut tighten with the same lust that had got him in trouble only a short while ago. “Yes, lovely.”

  Hope, so long a stranger in his life, inched into uncertain life. Was it possible he had changed? He could hardly bear to contemplate the idea. The sudden intrusion of light into the Stygian darkness of his life blinded him, left him bewildered.

  Hardly believing he could, he lifted one gloved hand and placed it over hers. Through the fine kid, the heat of her skin was a distant echo of life and joy.

  For a forbidden moment, he basked in the glow of her hazel eyes. His hand shook, but with emotion not physical weakness.

  He found his voice, rusty, thick, unsteady. “Truce.”

  He loved her.

  Charis could hardly believe it. But Gideon’s quaking desperation as he clutched her hand to his chest convinced her it was true, perhaps more than actually hearing the words.

  With that declaration, Gideon changed her world forever. Her heart rejoiced. She felt new, reborn, strong. At last there was a chance she could win what she wanted with all her soul for both of them. A life of happiness, a future at Penrhyn, children, contentment, peace.

  She and Gideon spent the afternoon tooling around Jersey’s lanes in a hired curricle. When he suggested the outing, she’d leaped at the chance to escape their rooms. In the cramped conveyance, awareness tautened between them, but movement and air made the bristling atmosphere bearable.

  Almost.

  With a flourish, Gideon drew the vehicle to a stop on the crest of a hill. Below spread a vista of fields, with the sea silver in the distance. A breeze teased strands of hair from under her bonnet. The gloomy weather had cleared, and the day was fragrant with coming spring.

  He loved her.

  The sun shone more brightly. The birds sang more fervently. The air brushed across her skin more sweetly.

  “Oh, what a pretty place.” She risked tucking her gloved hand around his arm.

  When he didn’t recoil, she leaned forward, deliberately rubbing the side of her breast against him. Surprised pleasure awoke as she heard his breath catch.

  Those torrid moments in his arms had taught her so much. That she could drive him mad with need. That he could touch her with the deepest intimacy. That the sensation of her husband’s body pumping into hers was the purest excitement she’d ever known.

  Now she was familiar with the scent of his arousal, the sound he made in his throat when he penetrated her flesh, his hard strength as he pounded into her. The experience hadn’t been entirely comfortable. He’d been rough, and she wasn’t yet accustomed to a man’s passion.

  He’d thundered into her like a regiment of horses charging down an enemy position. She should have been terrified.

  Instead, she’d loved every hot, sweaty minute.

  She’d loved his body joining with hers. She’d loved seeing him a helpless slave to desire.

  She wanted him to do it again. Soon.

  His arm was rigid under her hold, but at least he didn’t pull away. “It’s good to get out of town.” Did she hear a trace of huskiness in his comment?

  “The press of people worries you?” She turned to study him. He’d been preoccupied most of the day but to her relief, he showed no signs of illness. What happened this morning had clearly unsettled him. She couldn’t doubt he’d found physical satisfaction. But his mind was far from easy.

  She curled her fingers around his arm, testing the unrelenting muscle. He was so strong and masculine. The heated memory of him surging into her filled her senses. She felt her color rise.

  He sent her a brief, assessing glance. “A little.”

  It took her a moment to realize he answered her question. The problem with this plan to drive him out of his mind with lust was that she wasn’t exactly immune to his touch either. So difficult to focus on a goal when his mere presence turned her into a steaming pool of desire.

  She reminded herself to be patient. This would be a long, slow siege, but victory would be worth it. For Gideon and for her.

  “London must have been a nightmare.”

  He looked over the horses’ heads, and his gloved hands tightened on the reins. “Yes.”

  “How did you bear it?”

  He shrugged. “I had no choice. The sovereign commanded. I obeyed. I drank. I took opium when liquor failed. I canceled what engagements I could. Tulliver and Akash helped.”

  “And now there’s St. Helier.”

  He smiled. “Believe me, St. Helier is much easier than London.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll soon be back at Penrhyn.”

  Amusement sparked his dark eyes to starlight as he glanced at her. “Good God, madam, you sound like a wife.”

  She met his gleaming gaze, shadowed under the curling brim of his stylish hat. He looked like a buck of the ton. Impossible to reconcile this elegance with the rumpled, satiated man from a few hours ago.

  “I am a wife,” she said softly. For the first time, she almost felt like one. His eyes changed, focused, and her heart shifted in her breast. “I wish you’d kiss me,” she whispered before she reminded herself what trouble her propensity for blurting out her thoughts had already caused.

  A taut silence fell. She waited for him to retreat as he had so often before.

  The humor drained from his face, replaced by a concentrated sensuality. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her breath escaped her parted lips on a sigh.

  Her senses sharpened. The sounds around them suddenly seemed unusually loud. Birdsong. The sea’s distant roar. The jangle of harness as one of the horses shifted.

  Then her heart’s furious pounding drowned out everything else.

 
Slowly, so slowly she thought she’d die with waiting, his face moved closer. His warm, moist breath feathered across her lips. She made a choked sound of yearning.

  If he stopped now, she’d scream.

  He closed his eyes and brushed his lips across hers. A glancing contact.

  She growled with impatience and strained toward him. There was no sign of his usual reluctance for physical contact. She silently whispered a prayer of thankfulness.

  “You’re teasing,” she said hoarsely.

  Those lips she wanted on hers quirked. “A little. Take off your bonnet, so I can do this properly.”

  Even through her yearning, she recognized how promising that sounded. With shaking hands, she untied the yellow satin ribbons and ripped the hat from her head. It was new and very stylish. Without hesitation, she dropped it to the curricle’s floor.

  In a fever of anticipation, she watched him secure the reins, although the horses seemed happy to laze in the waning sun. He swept his hat from his head.

  He must hear her heart’s furious beat, it was so loud. Her palms were moist. Nervously, she wiped them on her skirts. “Hurry,” she said in a shaking voice.

  He laughed softly. The deep sound shivered through her. She squirmed restlessly on the seat.

  Slowly—why, oh, why was he so slow? Couldn’t he tell she was in a lather of desire?—he lifted one hand to cup the back of her head. His gloved fingers speared through the hair at her nape.

  “You’re so fierce,” he murmured.

  “Don’t you like it?” She hardly knew what she said. All she knew was that he touched her as if nothing else in the entire world mattered.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He lifted his other hand and placed it under her chin, holding her face angled up. Absurd when he must know evasion was the last thing on her mind.

  “Gideon…”

  An invitation. A protest. A plea.

  “Shh.” A tender smile hovered around his lips.

  He dipped his head and gave her another fleeting kiss.

  Still he played with her. In spite of his own need. An inferno of desire raged behind those black eyes. Heat radiated from him. She shifted, trying to get closer to that blaze.

  Very gently he placed his lips on the corner of hers. A kiss on her nose. On her chin. Between her brows.

  “Kiss me,” she said almost tearfully. This delay was more than mortal flesh could stand.

  “I am kissing you.”

  She shook with impatience. She wanted passion. She wanted to know he hungered for her. But this tenderness was sweeter than sugar. She felt her soul unfurl. He’d made love to her twice. Neither time had he been tender.

  Now he treated her as if she were made of finest Venetian glass. Likely to shatter at the slightest touch.

  She raised her hands. One hooked around his wrist. The other rested on his chest where she’d touched him this morning. Under her palm, his heart raced.

  “Kiss me properly,” she begged. “Or I’ll go mad.”

  “We’re both mad,” he said with sudden determination. “God help us.”

  As abruptly as that, the world exploded into flame. His mouth covered hers with ferocious passion.

  She gasped with shock. Then with astounded pleasure. He was all hot desire. But the ghost of earlier tenderness lingered like embers from a banked fire. Like stars fading at sunrise.

  She surrendered, parting her lips.

  His relentless physical onslaught gave no quarter. He slipped his tongue across her lips. Then flicked it inside. She stiffened at the unfamiliar intrusion.

  Abruptly he lifted his head.

  Oh, don’t let him stop. I’ll die if he stops.

  “It’s all right,” he crooned, and returned to kissing forehead, cheeks, and chin. Using his hand behind her head to hold her for his depredations.

  She moaned and yearned toward him. “Kiss me, Gideon.” Her voice vibrated with longing.

  “I forget…” He punctuated his speech with a scatter of kisses. He placed his mark on every inch of her face. Except her lips. Where she wanted him.

  “…how innocent…” More kisses.

  “…you are.”

  The hand she’d placed over his crazily hammering heart slid up to encircle his neck. Her fingers tangled in the hair that brushed his coat’s high collar.

  “You surprised me,” she said shakily. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like it.”

  More glancing kisses. “What a sweet little wife.”

  “You’re tormenting me,” she accused, turning her head to try and catch his lips with hers.

  “You’ve tormented me for days. I never thought I’d touch you like this.”

  “But you wanted to?” She knew the answer, but still she longed to hear him admit it.

  “You’re a fever in my blood,” he said in a raw voice.

  His hands shifted down her back, and he lifted her toward him. He parted his lips over hers. More gently than before. This time she was ready for the penetration of his tongue.

  One brief foray. Retreat. A more thorough exploration.

  Heat exploded behind her eyes. Searing pleasure flowed through her veins. She knew nothing but the scorching possession of his mouth. She gasped and pressed closer, opening her lips wider.

  He stroked his hands up and down her back, tracing her spine. Everywhere he touched, he set up another hot whirlpool. Flame licked at her skin. Still, his mouth plundered hers with endless dark delight.

  Tentatively, she slid her tongue against his. He made a growling sound of approval, and his hands tightened.

  More bravely, she moved her tongue until the kiss was no longer invasion but ecstatic dance.

  She made an inarticulate sound and edged closer, sliding awkwardly on the seat. He ripped his mouth from hers. He breathed in great gusts, and his eyes were blacker than ebony. He released a startled laugh and pulled her up against him.

  “A curricle’s not designed for lovemaking,” he said unsteadily.

  Charis was still dazed. Joy resonated through her like music. “I don’t care. It was wonderful.”

  She sounded like a besotted ninnyhammer. What matter? She was a besotted ninnyhammer.

  He loved her.

  He touched her cheek with a gesture that split her vulnerable heart open. She’d loved him from the first, but until now she’d had no idea how physical pleasure turned love into something so vivid, it became a living entity.

  “Shall we go back to the inn?” His voice was velvety with anticipation.

  She curved into his side. For the first time, his arm circled her shoulders. She basked in the closeness. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss. Strangely, that kiss had changed things between them more than either time he’d used her body.

  Hope poured into her brimming heart.

  He loved her. She loved him. What could defeat them?

  Eighteen

  Across the remains of the meal he’d ordered in their rooms, Gideon watched his wife. The hostelry was famous for its cuisine. For all the attention he’d paid to the elaborate fare, it might have been sawdust.

  Instead, his heart, his mind, his soul were full of his bride.

  Charis.

  Beautiful, beautiful Charis. His delight and his despair.

  She’d been quiet on the drive back from the countryside. Nor had she spoken much during dinner. Like him, she’d toyed with her food. Now she looked up. Doubt swam in her hazel eyes like sharks in a clear sea.

  She set down her fork with a decided click. Her slender hand clenched against the table. “What made you change your mind?”

  Gideon didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She was too clever to let his new attitude go unremarked and too brave to avoid the subject.

  After a moment’s thought, he gave her a frank answer. “I’m not sure I have.”

  He was guiltily aware that he played dangerous games with their future here. He still believed her best chance for happiness lay in a life separate from h
is.

  But it was more than mortal flesh could stand to share a bed with his delectable wife and not touch her. Especially after the desolate hell he’d subsisted in since Rangapindhi. Charis thought because they loved each other, they had a chance. Gideon knew in his bones that love only made the price they’d both pay for their current indulgence more excruciating.

  He should stay away from her. But he couldn’t.

  Of all his many sins, perhaps this was his greatest.

  Her lips compressed with impatience, and she fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “You’re happy to touch me now.”

  He remembered this afternoon’s delicious kisses, and he couldn’t suppress a reminiscent smile. “More than happy.”

  His reply didn’t mollify her. Her color rose, but her regard didn’t waver. “What changed?”

  He briefly studied the white damask tablecloth, then glanced up. “Well, there’s the fact that I can touch you.”

  She blushed more furiously. “So you’re reconciled to living as my husband?” He heard her difficulty forcing the question out.

  He sighed, and his voice deepened into gravity as he answered with equal difficulty. “Charis, I’m not doing you any favors with what’s happened. If I had a scrap of decency, I’d leave you alone.”

  Yes, he could touch her without turning into a beast. This morning hadn’t proven that, but this afternoon had. He loved her, if anything, more than ever. If she asked him, he’d catch the stars from the sky for her.

  But the factors that made him an unsuitable consort for this glorious girl remained as stark as ever.

  Whatever private bliss life with his wife now promised, he was still a physical and mental wreck. His immediate strained reaction today to St. Helier’s bustle confirmed that. The frail seedling of hope that had uncurled inside him this morning had shriveled as he’d felt the old, crushing, sick reaction to the crowd. Painful reality had crashed down upon him in all its inexorable grimness.

  What a fool he’d been to believe this temporary reprieve meant a permanent cure to his ills. He’d never lead a normal life, he’d always have to hold himself apart, isolated. He couldn’t lock someone like Charis away from the world and hoard her like a miser hoarded his gold. It wasn’t fair, and eventually, he knew, she’d chafe at the restrictions of life with a recluse. He couldn’t bear to see her bright spirit flicker and go out.