He kept watch on Julian Danvers’s house as he leaned against his carriage across the square, telling himself that the seduction of Blackmore’s widow was all part of the plan. It was just one of the threads he was going to pull when the time was right. That she was entirely delectable made it so much the easier.
He tossed away his cheroot when he saw the light appear in the window, and spoke quietly to Oliver. “Drive around to the mews and wait for me there. Take a nap, Ollie.” He had no idea how long he would be, though he was hoping for several hours.
The door to number eight was unlocked, and Tom entered the house, picking up the lamp Maggie had left for him on a table near the staircase. He climbed quietly while his heart thudded loudly in his ears. He could not recall another time when he was so eager to sink into a lover. Knowing that it was Maggie who waited for him was almost more than he could bear.
Suddenly she was there, standing in the doorway of her bedchamber. Her hair was still pinned up as it had been earlier, but she’d changed out of her evening dress. Now she wore some loosely flowing gown of white with tiny sleeves that left most of her shoulders and arms bare. Lit by the fireplace behind her, Tom hardened at the sight she made.
He closed the distance between them. All at once, he took her into his arms and kissed her hungrily, starved for the taste of her. Ravishing her mouth, he moved abruptly and pressed her back against the wall, spearing his tongue into her mouth. He slid his hands down her spine and cupped her bottom, feeling the smooth skin beneath her thin chemise.
“Ah, Maggie,” he said, breaking the kiss, surprised at the harsh rasp of his own voice. “You are so sweet.”
He pulled her tight against his erection and groaned at the staggering sensation of her feminine cleft cradling him.
She pushed his coat from his shoulders, and Tom was grateful for the foresight that had caused him to unfasten his waistcoat, and leave his cravat in the carriage. She opened the buttons of his shirt, and pulled it from his trews. But before she could pull it over his head, he started on the combs in her hair.
He turned her around so that her back was to him as he loosened her hair, letting it fall in exquisitely feminine waves to her shoulders, the scent of roses floating all around them. “So soft,” he said, slipping one small sleeve down, giving him space to kiss her bare shoulder. Whispering light kisses up to the crook of her neck, he moved one hand to her abdomen and pulled her back against him. He felt the fullness of her breast above his hand, but he had no intention of going too fast.
He eased her hips back against his hard thickness and shuddered with her exquisite femininity. Maggie reached back and bracketed his hips with her hands, and Tom felt as though he would come out of his skin.
He swept her into his arms and sat down on a chair near the bed, keeping her on his lap. The fire-light glowed softly on her face and he cupped her cheek as he leaned forward and kissed her mouth. She responded with the same incredible ardor he’d experienced every other time he’d kissed her, though this time he felt her tugging his shirt up over his back.
Tom broke the kiss and helped her, more than anxious to yank it over his head and have it gone. She put her hands on his bare chest near his collarbones and inched them down. “Aye. That’s it—touch me.”
Her touch was delicate, seeking, examining him tentatively, as though she had never touched a man’s chest before. Her fingers slid through the dark, wiry hair, and when she brushed his nipples with her fingertips, the awesome sensation shot directly to his groin and he groaned.
“Oh!” she whispered, drawing her hand away.
He captured it and put it back. “More,” he growled, aroused beyond belief by her naïve explorations.
She resumed her gentle torture, then made it worse by leaning forward to kiss one of his nipples. She swirled her tongue over it while caressing the other with her fingertips. When she sucked it into her mouth, Tom’s cock grew, aching to be inside her.
He lifted her chin and caught her lips with his own as he pulled the ribbon at the front of her chemise, loosening it so that the skimpy garment slipped down her arms. The fragile fabric caught on the tips of her breasts, and Tom nudged it down, baring her breasts. He brushed his fingertips across one pebbling nipple, then palmed her breast in his hand.
The sensual touch startled her, and Tom wondered if it was possible that she had never felt the kind of sensations he was creating now. It made him feel far more powerful than it should, but he was grateful to her negligent husband. Being the first to show her carnal pleasure was far beyond erotic. Tom could not imagine being harder or more impatient to make love to a woman.
Maggie grabbed hold of his shoulders and sighed, letting her head drop slightly back while he toyed with her breasts. He dipped his head down and pressed an openmouthed kiss to the rapid pulse in her throat, then progressed upward, finally taking her lips with his in a light kiss that quickly deepened.
As their tongues tangled, Tom felt Maggie’s hands on him, sliding down, exploring again. When she reached the waist of his trews and touched him through the heavy cloth, Tom took control and unfastened the placket. He drew out his hard flesh and took her hand, wrapping her fingers around him.
Her intimate touch was breathtaking. She ran her fingers lightly over the tip, then down the shaft, holding him loosely and stroking gently at first, then with a tighter grip. She progressed to a faster stroke that made Tom feel as though he might explode.
When he could take no more, he stood, setting Maggie on her feet before him. She watched with avid interest as he pulled off his boots and stepped out of his trews. He started on her chemise, but it caught on her hips, and Tom slid his finger between the cloth and her skin. Maggie grabbed his hand, seeming reluctant to bare herself before him.
“Naked, Maggie,” he whispered. “Let me see you.”
“But I’m not—My pregnancies…”
“Made you the most enticing woman I’ve ever known.”
He dropped down to one knee and pressed his face to her abdomen, easing the chemise down, slowly exposing her feminine mound. He skated his fingers across the hair at the crux of her legs, then down her thighs as the gown fell to the floor. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her belly, then lower. He skimmed his hands back up her legs, compelling her to open for him.
“Christ, you are beautiful.”
“What are you—Oh, God.”
He slid one finger across the sweet feminine notch between her legs and touched the center of her pleasure. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the spot, and licked it with his tongue.
“Thomas!”
She grabbed his head, but did not push him away. He cupped her buttocks and sucked her, then stroked her with his lips and tongue. He looked up at her as he pleasured her, past her smooth torso and her full, enticing breasts, all the way up to her eyes, watching him with wonder.
His cockstand became almost painful, and when she suddenly stiffened and gave out a soft cry, Tom nearly climaxed himself. He managed to keep up his sensual assault until her trembling slowed, and he kissed his way up to her breasts, then fondled her nipples until she came again.
As he rose to his full height, Maggie pressed herself against him, as if to shield her body from any further caresses. “Aye, it’s nearly too much,” he said quietly. “But there is more.”
Tom felt her trembling, so he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I-I’m not.”
No, she wasn’t nervous. She was in a full panic. No one had ever touched or kissed her so intimately. The pleasure he gave had been entirely absent throughout her marriage. And she feared she would never be able to please him in return.
Maggie felt as though she was floating in a sea of absolute sensation, and she couldn’t even tell which way was north. She should have known Thomas’s lovemaking would not resemble Julian’s in the least. Yet she hadn’t known the two experiences would be worlds apart, that with Thomas, it would not incl
ude any part of lying flat on her back and waiting for him to do what he’d come for.
Once again, she felt like that other woman who’d put the candle in the window. Someone bold and confident, who could ask her lover for instruction.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“There’s no recipe, Maggie. Do whatever comes to you.”
“But I—I—”
He kissed the corner of her jaw and she sighed, her eyes drifting closed. “There are no mistakes in the bedchamber, sweetheart.”
She slipped her fingers up his chest and around to the back of his neck. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she drew him down for her kiss. He swept his hands down to her bottom, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his erection.
“Touch me,” he said.
“You cannot imagine how much I want to.”
His breath caught at her words, and she realized she’d said them aloud. And yet she was not embarrassed. She was glad he knew how she felt.
She created a fraction of space between them and lowered her hands down to his waist where his erection strained against her, hard and hot, impatient for her touch. There was a small bead of moisture at the tip, and Maggie covered it with her palm, then spread her fingers down its length, encircling him firmly.
“That’s it, love. Aye, I’ve lived for your touch these past few days.”
She stroked him, discovering which caresses made him groan with pleasure, learning every inch of him.
“Lower, Maggie. Cup me.”
He kissed her madly as she felt the sacs beneath his shaft, and used both hands on him, one to fondle him, the other to stroke his erection.
He suddenly broke their kiss and lifted her into his arms. Taking her to the bed, he set her down on the soft mattress and stretched out over her. Maggie felt an instant of panic, and fought against the reticence she’d felt with Julian. She opened for Thomas.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
She wasn’t aware that she’d squeezed them shut.
“Look at me when I come into you.”
He held himself up with one thickly muscled arm, and eased her legs apart. Maggie slipped her hands around his neck and held on as he entered her all at once.
It was not uncomfortable at all. In fact, it felt nothing like the act she’d suffered through with Julian.
He started to move, the rhythm of his body slow and languid at first. Pleasure built inside her as he increased the pace, starting in her womb and extending outward. She wrapped her legs around his waist and angled her bottom to maximize contact with his body with every stroke.
“Christ, yes!” he rasped.
The sensations in her womb suddenly flashed in a tight surge that was beyond anything she’d felt before. Her muscles tightened and her womb quivered with a fierce intensity that took her well past simple pleasure. It was sheer ecstasy, but in the midst of her contractions, Thomas withdrew abruptly, spilling his seed on her stomach.
Her body quaked for want of his. She felt bereft when he pulled away, even though he still lay between her legs. He reached across her and found a cloth to wipe his seed from her belly, then rolled to his side, pulling her with him.
His heart beat rapidly against her chest, and Maggie took a tremulous breath while her own heart slowed. He smoothed her hair from her forehead and gathered the uncontrolled mass of hair at the back of her head while he kissed her so gently Maggie could scarcely believe the tumult they had experienced only moments before.
She closed her eyes and took a long breath as reality struck her. She’d taken a lover, one who hadn’t seemed to notice, or care about, the thick scarring on her thigh. He’d passed his hands over every inch of her legs and hardly even paused at the site of her old fracture. He hadn’t noticed the silvery marks that remained after the birth of her children, and when he’d taken down her hair, he’d touched it as though it were made of coppery silk. He’d kissed her so intimately it had taken all the strength from her legs.
He thought she was enticing.
She hugged him close. “What’s this?” she asked, feeling a smooth ridge of skin on his back.
“Nothing. An accident when I was a child,” he said quietly. “Do you think Kimbridge is aware that you will not be taking a ride with him tomorrow?”
“Please don’t remind me.”
He pulled her even closer. “Come out to my estate tomorrow.”
“With the children?”
“Not this time,” he replied. “I want you all to myself.”
Her heart warmed, and she was afraid it would soon be in danger of breaking. As Victoria had said, paramours were meant to be temporary.
Maggie could not allow herself to think of that now, not when he slid his leg up between hers, pressing against the spot that ached for his touch. “What about all the people you mentioned before? Your staff at Delamere House.”
“I have a much better plan now.” He gathered her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I will come for you at three.”
Chapter 10
Tom returned to Delamere House before dawn, aware that he could not spend his entire day awaiting the moment he could collect Maggie and take her out to the huntsman’s cottage. Much as he wanted to.
The memory of her touch was burned into his brain. She’d started as a trusting pupil, and quickly become an avid student who mastered every technique to drive him wild. She’d responded to his caresses as though she’d never been touched before, and her arousal had fired his own.
He wanted her still.
It was a perfect morning for a ride, cool, but sunny, and it reminded him of his days as a boy at Lockhaven Stables. Life had seemed so simple then, his future assured and comfortable. And then he’d encountered Shefford and Blackmore.
It was still early. Tom changed clothes, then left the house and went alone to the stable where he saddled his mare. He missed the freedom of his vast acres in New York, where there were no expectations of him and no pretense to maintain. If all went well, he’d return there with his parents and sister. It was only a matter of weeks.
He mounted Marcaida and headed east at a slow trot, watching as the sun’s rays inched up through the trees. He hoped the ride would help him to set aside his thoughts of Maggie so he could consider the previous night’s encounter with Foveaux. The commandant had never before figured into Tom’s plans for revenge, but his presence in London presented a challenge and an opportunity Tom could not ignore.
The man had done well, having been promoted to the rank of general. Tom knew Foveaux had owned property in New South Wales, and it seemed he had some fair amount of money at this stage of his life. He and his wife looked prosperous, if not seriously wealthy.
Tom didn’t know if it would be possible to discredit him and take his commission from him, but he could take his wealth. That would give Tom only a fraction of the satisfaction he wanted, and it would be worthwhile only if Foveaux knew that it was the ex-convict Thomas Thorne who had done the damage to him.
He considered what to do as he kept riding, finding himself heading more south than east, toward Town.
And yet he could not arrive in Hanover Square just yet. Nor could he haul Maggie onto the back of his horse and ride away with her. Instead, he went to Limmer’s Hotel, where he broke his fast while reading the sporting journals, and listening to gossip about horses. He paid close attention, learning all that he could about Arrendo’s competition.
“Throw it to me again, Mama!” Zachary called as he backed away from Maggie, across the lawn. The horse riders were out in force in the park, as were a number of fashionable ladies, casually strolling with their parasols up, holding the arms of their escorts. Maggie tried not to miss her own escort, the man whose touch had caused rivers of pure heaven to flow through her veins. She could wait the few hours before she would see him again without splintering into mad bits of anticipation.
Only because she had to.
Besides, her children needed her
attention, and their jaunt to the park helped to calm her nerves.
Maggie tossed the ball and her son almost caught it. She laughed as he lunged and missed, then ran to recover it.
“That boy has an overabundance of energy,” said Nurse Hawkins.
Maggie just smiled, her body still sparkling with a deep satisfaction that was unlike anything she’d ever known, coupled with a contradictory eagerness to repeat everything she’d shared with Thomas. Even now, she could feel his lips upon her shoulder, her breast, and even down there, where he’d known exactly how to touch her, how to bring her to climax, again and again.
Maggie understood now that Julian’s lovemaking had been cursory. He had hurried through it as nothing more than a perfunctory duty.
Perhaps it was her own fault that she hadn’t figured out how to bring forth the same kind of passion with her husband as she had with Thomas. Yet she had not known what to do.
And Julian had never bothered to show her. Why would he, when he could experience passion with women of his own choosing, and merely take care of his obligation with the plain, naïve wife he’d married.
She would not brood over it now, nor could she dwell on the questions that had arisen the moment she’d awakened alone. She was entirely unaware of the conventions of her new situation, and found herself unable to stop thinking about the love affair that still caused tingles of desire to resonate through her. The quiet, predictable life she’d enjoyed in the country had changed, irrevocably.
She didn’t believe she could ever go back to the existence she’d known before Thomas. She was very different from the woman who’d come away from Cambridgeshire with her children only a few days before, and she needed to acquire some sophistication. Obviously, a widow in her position could have no expectations of the man in her bed—nothing beyond the night’s pleasure. Thomas had made her no promises, nor had Maggie asked for any. And she knew he would leave her behind one day.
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