A Reckless Encounter

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Resourceful.” Celia stared at her, uncertain whether she should be amused or insulted. She thought suddenly of her years at the foundling home, and how the girls had all gathered into whispering, giggling groups at night to talk. The conversations had inevitably turned to boys, and the wisest of the group had enlightened them on matters of sex in the most graphic terms. Some of the girls had even practiced kissing, though Celia refrained. It had been a most illuminating education she would never have learned from the nuns.

  Now, gazing at Carolyn’s expectant, hopeful face, she said slowly, “I suppose I know more than Charlotte.”

  It was awkward at first, but Celia explained the basics as succinctly as she could, recognizing from Carolyn’s wide eyes and disbelieving gaze that she knew absolutely nothing about sexual matters.

  “Has no one ever told you anything?” she asked bluntly, and Carolyn shook her head.

  “No. Oh my. It’s—it’s much more intimate than I had thought it would be.”

  “But if you love Melwyn, you won’t mind that. You’ll be glad to have him hold you, kiss you and I’m certain he’ll be tender and gentle.”

  Not savage and ruthless like Northington.…

  Carolyn frowned, looking down at her hands as she pleated folds of her skirt between her fingers. “I don’t really know Edwin. How can I love him enough to do—do that?”

  For a moment Celia was silent. It was true that she had little experience with the physical aspects of love. But when Northington had held her against him, she’d felt the surge of his desire and her own quivering response. Heat and confusion had churned inside her until she could barely think coherently.

  It had shocked her. Never had she suspected she would feel that way with a man. Especially with Northington.

  “I think,” she said slowly, and felt Carolyn looking at her, “that there must be some natural instinct that takes over.”

  It was the only logical explanation for returning Northington’s kiss, for allowing him to haunt her dreams and even her waking thoughts.

  “Yes,” Carolyn said with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true. I’ll hope my natural instincts come to my rescue.”

  Their discussion was interrupted by Janey’s return, and Carolyn rose at once, yawning. “I’ll leave you to your bath, Celia. I hope your sleep is restful.”

  “It will certainly be welcome,” she replied, and was relieved when Carolyn was gone at last. The turmoil of the evening had left her tense, and after Janey laid out her silk dressing gown and the towels, she told her she could go.

  “There’s no point in you staying up late just to help with my bath.” Clad in just her muslin shift, she waved a dismissal. “I’ve spent years washing my own back, and will manage quite nicely tonight. Go to bed, Janey.”

  It was a relief to be alone again, and once the door was closed behind the maid, Celia quickly untied the sash to her dressing gown and draped it over a chair, then stepped into the tub, her toes curling into deliciously hot water. As she sank down into the huge tub that was indeed sunk into the floor save for a wide rim, she breathed in the luxuriant heat of fragrant bath salts.

  Reaching behind her, she twisted her hair into a coil atop her head, tucking the ends beneath the knot to secure it, then scooted down to rest against the back of the tub. Slowly the hot water eased her tension, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the release as water lapped around her shoulders. Across the spacious room, a fire burned in the grate, crackling with a comforting sound.

  It was the first time she’d been able to relax, truly relax, in some time, and maybe it was the combination of wine and weariness, but whatever it was, she drifted in a pleasant haze.

  Nothing else seemed to matter, not the past or the present or even tomorrow.

  Oh, the water was so nice and warm, the scent so soothing…

  Something warm and solid brushed over her cheek and she sat up with a start, splashing water into her eyes.

  “Hello, mermaid,” Northington said softly. His face was blurred through the water that clung to her lashes but there was no mistaking the knowing curve of his mouth.

  And there was no mistaking his intent, for he wore nothing other than that damned insolent smile.

  16

  Vapors rose from the hot water, wreathing his face. He didn’t move, but leaned on the wide ledge of the tub only a few inches from her. Shocked, Celia crossed her arms over her chest and quickly slid down in the water. She stared at him for a long moment before finding her voice.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  It came out all wrong, a husky whisper instead of an angry demand, but she was far too aware of him, the golden sheen of his skin, the dark blue of his eyes and the smile that seemed to reach inside her soul.

  Feverishly she thought that he was far too close to her, and if he stood up, she would see more of him than she needed to see. Panic rose to clog her throat.

  “You know why I’m here,” he said softly, and it sounded so ordinary, the way he said it without his usual mockery, that she couldn’t contradict him.

  It was true. She knew why he was there. The knowledge made her heart beat faster.

  “Yes,” she finally managed to say. “I suppose I do know why you’re here.”

  “I didn’t expect to find a mermaid in my tub, but I’m pleasantly surprised—no, don’t turn shy on me now. It’s too late for that. Clear water doesn’t hide much.” He put his hand beneath her chin, and pulled her face gently back to him as she drew her knees toward her chest.

  He was being gentle, not harsh or aggressive, and she fought the urge to leap from the tub.

  “Please,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper. “I’m not—please leave me alone.”

  “Ah no, you don’t mean that.” Long fingers shifted, traced a path along her jaw. She shivered, and he smiled. “You know you don’t mean that, my pretty lady.”

  “I do, oh, yes, I do.…”

  But there was no time for more denials, for forming proper refusals. He was leaning closer, his face so near she felt the heat from him. It was all so confusing, so strange. It didn’t seem at all improper for him to kiss her, his mouth lingering on her lips, moving then to her earlobe to blow softly and make her shiver again, and all the while the hot scented water enveloping her like a blanket.

  “Such a pleasant surprise,” he murmured against her ear while his hand moved over her shoulder down to her breast, “to find a beautiful mermaid in my tub.”

  “I didn’t plan to surprise you, I only wanted a bath. Oh, no…don’t do that.…”

  “This?” His hand had slipped beneath the water to cup her breast in his palm, fingers tugging at her nipple. It was erotic, arousing, and she began to tremble. Any shreds of resistance she still possessed were fading. There was a steamy sensuality to the moment that was inevitable, as if she had only been waiting for the right moment to arrive, as if she had waited for him all her life. Perhaps she had in a way, though the reasons were all tangled up with so many other emotions that she couldn’t unravel them right now. All she could do was feel.

  It was a relief not to think, to allow him to make the decision for her.

  He was kissing her again, his hands moving over her body in seductive exploration, slipping beneath the water to caress her breasts, then move between her thighs, slow and so exciting…cool air and heated water. The sensuous stroke of his hands over that aching, melting pulse sent spears of white-hot reaction through her so that she arched upward, her arms curling around his neck as he kept kissing her.

  Somehow he was in the water with her, holding her against him while his mouth was on her breasts, his lips and tongue teasing her nipples until she moaned restlessly. It was so intensely erotic and arousing, the silky feel of hot water lapping about their bodies while his hands touched and teased, slid back between her thighs to the soft inner folds to summon such sweet, wild reaction that she suddenly clutched at him with both hands, fingers slipping on his wet skin, his hard muscled a
rms sliding beneath her palms as she grasped wildly at him.

  “Oh God oh God,” she said over and over, a panting plea that he seemed to understand when she wasn’t certain she did. She arched into his hands, moaning softly as his strokes created a growing tension that was exciting, an elusive promise that seemed to hover just out of reach. She wanted to close her eyes, but she didn’t. Instead she stared up at him as her body responded to his erotic caresses, watched the muscled curves of his chest and shoulders flex, powerful yet somehow more vulnerable than she’d ever dreamed. Then the tension burst into searing release that took her beyond the moment into a shuddering oblivion that seemed endless.

  Drifting, she was only vaguely aware that she still clung to him, her arms loose around his neck as his mouth found hers in another kiss.

  Then he was on his knees, straddling her, lean and dark and so intent, his hands beneath her hips to lift her slightly so that her legs were on each side of him and he fit between her thighs. The hard, thick shaft of his erection replaced his hands, caressing her intimate folds as he slid it across that aching point of sweet pleasure, summoning another shudder and soft cry from her. Her fingers opened and closed on his shoulders. The muscles beneath her hands shook with strain as he braced himself against the edge of the tub, his hands on each side of her head, his gaze dark blue and hot as he watched her.

  His breath was harsh and swift, contradicting the slow torment as he moved up and over her, slipping easily through the water to push against her. A dull pressure increased between her legs as he leaned forward, sliding inside the tiniest bit, a surprising invasion.

  Even more surprising, he didn’t press harder, but pulled back after a moment. He paused, then moved again, slowly pressing forward, the scented water slapping around them. Instinctively she arched into the pressure.

  “Christ,” he muttered, “don’t move, love. Not yet.”

  With her hands still on his shoulders, slipping a little on his damp skin, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the unfamiliar sensations that coursed through her body. It was nothing like she’d thought, nothing like she’d told Caro. This was so different, more of an inevitability than a natural instinct.

  It was encompassing, a sweeping away of everything she’d always expected, the reality much more overwhelming than the imagined.…

  He kissed her again, then slid his arms beneath her to lift her as if she was no more than a doll, rising from the tub with her against his chest, water dripping on the floor.

  Celia shuddered as cool air whisked over her naked body; she was so hot where his body pressed against her, and so cold where it did not.

  “What are you…My lord, where are we going?”

  He spoke to her softly, his breath warm against her cheek as he carried her across the room to another door. It didn’t lead to her chamber, but to another chamber that she knew must be his own, for it was very masculine, with heavy furniture and rich, dark draperies over the bed.

  “You’re shivering. I’m going to get you warm. No, it’s all right…no one will bother us, love. Here…”

  He’d put her on his bed and followed her down, his body over hers now, thick velvet beneath her, cushioning her as tremors made her body quake. Gently, as if tending an invalid, he drew the velvet covers over her, cradling her next to him as she shook uncontrollably. It wasn’t the cold, but reaction that made her tremble. Celia started to tell him that but he didn’t give her the chance.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly as he tucked the velvet around her, “so you don’t need to be afraid.”

  “I’m…not afraid, it’s just that—”

  “Yes, I know.” He shifted position; she felt him rest on his right side and elbow, his left arm lying across her body. He kissed her brow, then her closed eyelids, then the sensitive spot below her ear, his breath a warm caress. “Celia love, open your eyes. You can look at me, can’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I can, but I’m not sure I should.”

  She heard him laugh softly. His finger moved along her cheek, then over her lips. “Contrary little vixen. I think it’s your prickly nature that intrigues me most.”

  Her eyes opened. “Liar.”

  “Yes, that was a gross exaggeration. I find this most intriguing…” His hand moved beneath velvet to shape her breast, his palm covering it with heat. “And this…” Slowly drawing his hand over her ribs, he caressed the flat plane of her belly and moved even lower, his fingers tugging gently at the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. “So lovely! I knew your skin would be this soft.…”

  Her heart pounded fiercely as he stroked her, and the spark he’d ignited earlier flared again, beating heat through her veins as his fingers worked their clever magic and he whispered to her how beautiful she was, and how he’d wanted her from the moment she had insulted him.

  “It was obvious you’re more perceptive than most,” he murmured lazily as he slid his finger over damp curls and into her quivering flesh. “How could I resist you?”

  “My lord—”

  “Colter. It’s less formal, don’t you think, love?”

  Oh God, yes, of course it was. And this was definitely an informal occasion, she thought a bit wildly, torn between the driving need for him to continue and the warning voice in the back of her brain that told her she’d gone too far now. At least he seemed to know what he was doing, how to calm her fears and doubts, his tone gentle and his hands so skillful. Despite his previous roughness, and the times she’d thought him so dangerous, he was only gentle now, patient with her as he coaxed a response from her body and her soul.

  “Ah, no, love,” he murmured when he moved over her and she instinctively closed her legs against him. “This is no time for doubts. Not now, when we’ve come so far. Open for me…yes, like that, like that…it’s not so bad, is it?”

  “No…no, but—I can’t think when you do that!”

  “This isn’t the time for thinking. Just let me make you feel…”

  He kissed her again, until at last she began to relax and kiss him back. His knees were between her thighs, firm pressure keeping them apart. Somehow his hands were on her wrists, pressing her arms into the pillows over her head as he rested his body against hers for a moment. He was swollen and hard, nudging into the vee of her legs, hot and impatient, and Celia caught her breath.

  This was all so instinctive, the parting of her legs, the heavy pressure of his penetration and her answering lift into the burn, but she still wasn’t prepared for the swift forward thrust of his final invasion. A cry escaped her as her body contorted, and she heard his startled curse against her ear.

  “Christ!” He drew back slightly, his body still imbedded inside her, and swore again. “Jesus, what the hell is this?”

  Panting a little from the pain, she focused on his face above hers, dark and angry and incredulous as he stared down at her.

  “You’re a damn virgin,” he said when she didn’t reply at once. “You should have told me.”

  “Would it have made any difference?”

  “Of course it would. I’m not in the habit of ravishing innocent females.”

  “I beg to differ,” she murmured. “It seems that you have formed a habit of it after all.”

  Silence greeted her reply, and after a moment, he blew out a harsh breath. “So it seems. Christ above, Celia, you should have warned me.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should have.”

  “An understatement.” Another pause, then he laughed softly, a resigned sound. “I’m sure I’ll regret this, but since the damage is already done…”

  He’d freed her arms, and now he moved his hands over her breasts in a leisurely glide, then bent to take first one, then the other nipple into his mouth, sucking gently until she began to writhe beneath him, her breathing swift and labored. The first discomfort had faded to a dull ache and was now replaced with a growing anticipation, the hard knot inside her spreading into heated response. She felt him grow harder, a h
eavy fullness inside her, but he still didn’t move.

  “Put your arms around me, love,” he murmured when she moaned softly, and when she did, he began at last to move. It was a harsh friction, abrasive on still tender flesh, but not uncomfortable. His movements quickened, and gradually she began to meet his thrusts, matching his pace as the urgency grew hotter and higher. The rhythm of his breathing and thrusting increased until he gave a final hard thrust and a guttural groan, and abruptly withdrew. He held her fiercely, crushing her into the velvet with his weight, his rigid member prodding her belly. There was a peculiar throb as he gave a harsh groan, then he was still and heavy atop her as his breathing gradually slowed.

  There was none of the singing elation of earlier, for her body was still unaccustomed to the intrusion, but she knew that the next time would be different. God, would there be a next time? Oh, this was all so confusing, and she felt so uncertain—

  He caught her hand and rolled to one side, tucking her against him. “As tempted as I am to keep you with me all night, love,” he said against her hair, “there’s no reason to risk it. It would be impossible to explain. I find it impossible to explain to myself, and don’t exactly relish the thought of having to explain to your cousin. Do you understand?”

  He leaned over her, turned her to face him, and she managed a nod and agreement.

  “Of course I understand. Do you think I want to risk my reputation?”

  “You have strange standards, to yield your virginity but worry about your reputation. No, don’t misunderstand, but I have to ask you a question. Under the circumstances, I think it rather a legitimate concern. Why are you here?”

  “You invited me—”

  His fingers tightened on her face, not harshly but with steely intent. A muscle leaped in his jaw, and his gaze was intent.

  “Don’t play coy, Celia. You know what I mean. You’ve been flirting with me since the first time we met, and I was led to believe you were—experienced. Unless this is no trick, I can only assume that you have ulterior motives.”