Accidental Peers 03 - Compromising Willa

by Diana Quincy

  “You are so beautiful,” he said huskily, his warm breath puffing against her intimate folds. “No other man will ever touch you like this.”

  “No,” she panted, her womb convulsing with pleasure. She could hardly believe he was touching her this way. “Never.”

  He rose to his feet—a wildness lit his eyes. Sliding his hands over her breasts, his deep, dark gaze locked on her face. He stroked and caressed her breasts, which had never felt so sore and sensitized, through the thin muslin of her dress. “You are mine and only mine.”

  “Yes.” She leaned back on her palms, her body trembling.

  An intense look flashed across the sharp planes of Hart’s face. He eased down her bodice, baring her breasts. His breath caught as his hands moved reverently over them, cupping and massaging. He tweaked an aching nipple between his thumb and finger. “Say it.”

  But she could only moan in response.

  “Say you are mine and only mine.”

  Her body arched up of its own accord, offering her greedy breasts to his insistent fingers. She could not imagine ever wanting anyone other than this man. This man who touched her as though he knew her every secret desire. Her future husband. “I am yours and only yours, forever.”

  He bent and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She bucked at the sensation, bringing her hand to his head, pulling out the ribbon that held his hair in a tidy queue. She ran her fingers through his loosened hair, reveling in its soft feel. He responded by sucking harder at her nipple, biting it gently. “To whom do you belong?” His voice sounded labored, almost guttural.

  She writhed in a delicious agony. “I belong utterly and completely to you, Grey Preston, Duke of Hartwell.”

  He pulled his mouth away from her breast, his lips wet, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction. His loosened black hair enhanced the primal air about him. “Say it again.”

  She ached with desperation, but somehow found the words to tease him. “You are my lord, my master.”

  He laughed, his dark eyes gleaming. “As your lord and master, will you let me do with you as I please? Give you pleasure as I see fit?” Watching her face, his hand moved between her legs.

  A painful ecstasy gripped her. She longed for his skillful fingers to answer the throbbing between her legs. “Yes. I am yours to do with whatever you desire.”

  “I should stop, but I find I cannot,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Tell me this is what you want.”

  “Oh, yes please.” She felt herself growing more desperate, hurtling toward some oblivion his touch seemed to demand.

  “Show me,” he demanded, his voice low.

  She was in a haze again. “What? How—?”

  “Show me your passion, Willa. Prove Wollstonecraft’s hypothesis about a woman’s passion matching a man’s. Show me you have the freedom to take your pleasure.”

  The knowledge that they were forever intertwined emboldened her to accept his challenge. For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe and protected with a man.

  This man.

  Hart.

  She relaxed and leaned back, giving herself fully over to him. Dropping the reserve that always guarded her innermost self, she surrendered her body completely to him.

  He sucked in his breath. “You are as I saw you at the pond. Pure and unencumbered.” He knelt before her again. “You are so beautiful. I want you to hunger for me as much as I yearn for you.” He brushed a kiss on the inside of her thigh. “I want you to leave this encounter knowing there can never be another man for you.”

  He kissed her there again. She responded by crying out and arching her body, which was quickly careening out of control. The strokes of Hart’s tongue became hard, deep, and relentless. Willa rocked with him, her entire being coiling up with tension. They moved together, lost in each other as though nothing else mattered. The library echoed with the sounds of their lovemaking, her soft moans as his mouth loved her and his fingers coaxed her to fulfillment.

  Willa cried out in surprise when her release came, as bits of light and unfathomable pleasure exploded within her, tremors of bliss shimmering out to her limbs. When she came back to herself, Hart was kissing her. He lifted her, their lips still melded together, and carried her across the room. He settled her on his lap, lowering her skirt as they sank down in the large chair Willa had been reading in. They clung to each other in silence for a few minutes.

  After a time, Hart smiled with lazy satisfaction. “I daresay we did Miss Wollstonecraft’s theory proud.”

  …

  Willa stood at her work table in the solarium, concocting a new brew she’d been thinking about for several days. Mixing the leaves, she exhaled a calming breath, grateful to lose herself to the endeavor. For a time, at least, it quieted her mind and pushed her troubles far away.

  Although the situation with Hart had resolved itself in a most pleasing way, the earl still needed to be dealt with. She shook Augustus out of her thoughts. She’d worry about settling matters with him once he returned from Town.

  She focused on the task before her. Hart’s Indian tea had stirred her creative sensibilities. Its light flavor reminded her of a sweet wine. By blending it with a touch of green tea from China, she hoped to achieve a deliciously fruity taste. Inhaling the musky aroma, she considered how to best serve it. Cream would ruin the effect. Perhaps a touch of warm milk would be the perfect compliment.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. Expecting to see Hart, her heart quickened with expectation. Instead, Augustus stepped across the threshold.

  Her heart contracted in her chest. “You’ve returned.”

  “Yes, I completed my affairs in town as quickly as possible.” His eyes shifted to the teas on her work table. “Surely you are not still concocting those brews of yours?”

  “It is for the guests,” she said in a clipped tone. “My blends are always served at Camryn Hall.”

  He picked up a jar of tea and studied it in an absentminded fashion. “If it amuses you, I see no harm in it.” He fixed a gaze on her. “It is well past time to finalize our betrothal.”

  She bit her lip at the sight of the earl handling her tea. She itched to tell him to remove his hands from it. Instead she said, “I am already promised to another.”

  His mouth pinched. “We have been over this.”

  She took the jar of tea from him and set it on the work table with a deliberate plunk. “I will not succumb to your demands.”

  He tilted his head while studying her, as though trying to determine what she was about. “You will allow your friends to fall into ruin with you?”

  “No, the coffee house will be the Duchess of Hartwell’s first philanthropic effort.” The giddiness of triumph swept through her. “It will be all the crack. Everyone will want to follow the mode set by Her Grace.”

  “Do you think you can escape the stain of trade with that Bambury tale?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his voice rising.

  “It is not a lie.” She spoke in her calmest tone. “Hartwell owns the building and takes no coin from the coffee shop. Everyone will applaud our charitable endeavor.”

  “Don’t do this.” The words were urgent. “Not after all we have endured. This is our time, we must take it.”

  Discomforted by his proximity and familiar manner, she moved back from him. “Our time is long past.”

  He followed. “Willa, I must speak honestly and tell you what is in my heart.”

  “It is not my place to know what is in your heart.”

  “But it is.” He took her hand and put it against his chest. “Feel that. My heart beats only for you. It always has. I love you, Willa. We finally have our chance. You mustn’t squander it for some passing infatuation.”

  For an instant, she saw his vulnerability and glimpsed the companion of her youth. But the bond she’d once felt to Augustus didn’t compare to the intense feeling and passion she felt for Hart. Just the thought of the duke’s touch sent a shiver of excitement scurrying down her back.
Her long-ago affection for Augustus now seemed flimsy and inconsequential by comparison. They’d been friends and neighbors. It had been quite natural for them to develop a flirtation. She smiled softly and eased her hand away from his. “I am betrothed, as you well know. Let us leave memories in the past where they belong.”

  “You love me.” Stubbornness gleamed in his silvery eyes. “I see it in your face. You cannot marry another.”

  “I have fond memories of the boy you once were, but I do not love you and I realize now that I never did.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “That cannot be true. You are my fate.” Taking hold of her shoulders, he jerked her to him and crashed his lips down on hers.

  She panicked, struggling against the hard, insistent lips pressed on hers, wet and demanding. It was like the inn all over again. His tongue slammed against the tight seam of her mouth, demanding entry. Her stomach turned, his perfume stung her nostrils, the smell of rosemary and almonds nauseating her. She wrenched away, ramming her hands against his chest.

  “Stop, stop!” Her heart pounded her breath came out in short angry bursts. Any sentimental memories fell away.

  Augustus smiled with satisfaction. “You must have felt the excitement.” He put a finger to his lips. “I certainly did.”

  Disgust roiled her stomach. Her resistance excited him? “I feel nothing for you. Nothing.”

  “I suppose you think you love him,” he said in a voice rich with scorn.

  She blinked at him, awareness dawning. Did she love Hart? A joyous feeling took root in her chest. It all became so clear. “Yes. I do love Hart. I do.” Where was he? She wanted to tell him immediately. She loved Grey Preston! Her heart seemed to lift out of her chest. The formidable burden of her dented reputation fell away, leaving her floating and feeling lighter than she had since that laughing girl had raced Augustus across the pasture.

  “Or is it the title you want?” he said. “You aim high, my love. Most ladies would welcome the attentions of an earl.”

  “There is more to a man than his title.” Her thoughts full of Hart, Willa smiled as a genuine feeling of delight engulfed her. “You would do well to remember that.” The click of approaching footsteps sounded in the hall. “You really should remove yourself. Hart will throttle you again if he suspects you tried to force your attentions upon me.”

  “I’ll go.” Augustus grabbed her, forcing a hard kiss on her mouth before she could fight him. “For now. But this is not the end of it.” He marched from the room, almost bumping right into Hart.

  …

  Hart zeroed in on Willa’s flushed cheeks and flustered demeanor as soon as he brushed past Bellingham. Their glances met before Willa jerked hers away, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth.

  Hart’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?”

  She turned away from him, busying herself with her tea jars. “Yes, quite, thank you.”

  “Does he understand your betrothal to me stands?” Tension twisted into every one of his muscles. Perhaps she’d changed her mind and had decided to marry Gus after all.

  That would explain the scene he’d witnessed through the solarium windows just moments ago when he’d stepped out for a cheroot: Gus grabbing her arm and Willa’s radiant smile in return, a joyous expression impressed upon her lovely face. “Did you tell him you won’t marry him?”

  “I did.” Willa placed a jar in the tea caddy and he experienced a fleeting satisfaction when he realized it was the one he’d given her.

  “How did he respond?”

  “He is not pleased.” She exhaled a shaky breath, her back still to him. “But I think he will come to accept it as my final decision.”

  Her shoulders were stiff, hunched high into her neck. He laid gentle hands on them and turned her to face him. “Did he overstep?”

  She looked beyond his shoulder. “No, of course not.”

  She was lying. Any idiot could see it. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. Cold fury blasted through him. Retrieving his handkerchief, he held it out to her. “Perhaps you are in need of this.”

  Her enormous glistening eyes fastened on him. Finally. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Did he force his attentions on you?”

  “No. Please let us talk of something else.”

  “Even if something untoward happened, you would not tell me.”

  Willa sighed her resignation. “Yes, that’s true.”

  Black rage pulsed through his body. “You seek to protect him because you love him still.”

  A tiny frown appeared between the perfect turn of her eyebrows. “Surely you comprehend after what occurred in the library that there is only one for whom I harbor feelings.”

  The rational part of Hart’s brain believed her, but mad jealousy crowded out all sensible thinking. “After the library, I thought you understood you belong to me. Only me.” His voice was frost now.

  “I belong to no one.” She studied his face. “Is that what happened in the library? Did you seek to mark me with your familiarity?”

  “I gave you the pleasure he never could and yet you crave him still.”

  Fire flashed in her eyes. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  Hart clamped his hands on her shoulders, bringing his mouth down on hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firm. His insistent tongue demanded entry, his fingers dug into her flesh. She cried out, yanking her mouth away. Willa stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with anger and hurt.

  Remorse slammed through him. What the devil. He’d never handled a woman roughly before. “My apologies.” Spinning around in an angry daze, he stormed from the room.

  …

  Hart downed another ale. He wasn’t sure if it was his third or fourth. He looked bleakly around the unfamiliar dark tavern. It stood in the village near Camryn Park, but felt a world away.

  “Another?” asked the friendly barmaid, leaning over a little more than was necessary to refill his drink, treating him an excellent view of her best and biggest assets.

  On another day, before Willa, he might have been appreciative. Not this evening. Now only one woman crowded his head, seeped into every bit of his being.

  “You just passin’ through, love?” asked the barmaid.

  “Visiting Camryn Hall,” he mumbled, bottoming out his drink. He tossed a coin on the bar. “Another.”

  She nodded, obliging him. “I’m not surprised you from the Hall.” She topped off his drink. “I could tell you was one of the Quality.”

  Not in the mood for conversation, Hart grunted in response.

  But she seemed not to notice. “Good people, his lordship and his family. The marquess is a just man. We was afraid when the old one died, but we needn’t have worried. And the ladies are always helping the poor in the village.”

  He peered up at her. “What do you know of the ladies of Camryn Hall?”

  “I suppose you’re here for Lady Adela’s betrothal.” She wiped down the bar, nodding to a newly arrived customer. “A real beauty that one. We all wagered she’d marry higher than an earl’s brother. T’was her sister we was expecting would end up in a Bellingham bed.”

  Hartwell’s stomach flipped. “Why is that?” he asked mildly as he looked around the crowded tavern in a show of practiced disinterest.

  “Young lovers they was, Lady Willa and the earl.” She winked conspiratorially. “Even brought her to the inn, he did. She made a fortunate escape by not wedding him, if you ask me. He’s got a mean streak that one, likes to go hard on the wenches.”

  A furious pounding drummed behind his eyes. “Go on.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I done said too much.”

  In no mood for games, he tossed a coin onto the bar. Eyes gleaming, she reached for it. Hart clamped his hand down over hers, stopping her from scooping up the blunt. “Speak.”

  “It is said they took a room alone.” Her eyes were fixed on the coin. “It was many years past, mayhap three or four.”


  Dread tingled the back of his neck. “Continue.”

  “You’d best ask one of the chambermaids at the inn. Ask for Dolly. I hear she’s got quite a tale to tell.”

  Hart shot to his feet. “Where is this inn?”

  It wasn’t hard to find. The modest establishment stood on the outskirts of the village. It only took a few coins before the innkeeper led Hart to Dolly in the kitchen. Petite and pleasing to the eye, the maid’s soft gold curls framed a pleasant face. She curtsied wide-eyed before he drew her out into the corridor for some privacy.

  “I have need of information and will be very generous if your memory proves cooperative.” He dropped a coin into her open palm.

  Dolly’s eyes rounded. “My lord, what is it you wish to know?”

  “It is said the Earl of Bellingham brought a lady from a fine family to this establishment.”

  Understanding flashed in her eyes. “Aye, the Lady Wilhelmina,” she said softly, looking around to make sure she was not overheard.

  Pain stabbed his gut. “Are you certain it was she?”

  She gave an earnest nod of her head. “Aye, there’s no mistaking a beauty such as she.”

  Of course he’d heard the rumors, but that didn’t stop him from feeling ill. “Did they take a room here?”

  “Aye. The earl brought her up to it. I can show you the very chamber.”

  The thought of seeing the room roiled Hart’s insides. Yet see it he would. It didn’t take long to pay the innkeeper for a night’s use of the chamber. He did not want to be rushed.

  Dolly showed him upstairs and through a narrow corridor. She opened the door to a modest but clean room, bare except for a narrow bed, and a small wooden table and chair. He wondered if this room had looked the same when Willa had come here with Augustus. Was this where she had given herself to him?

  He exhaled. “I suppose there is no telling what happened once they came here.”