Each darkened nipple, so perfect, so delicious. Each creamy breast, too full for his hand. The ridge of bone beneath her throat, so kissable. Her smooth neck. Her stubborn chin. An earlobe. A rosy cheek. Her eyes were wide as he worked his way up to her damp forehead, tasting her salty surrender. She struggled with her bonds at each nip and stroke. He hoped beneath the stocking she was smiling.
“I want to fuck you now, Eden.”
Her lashes fluttered down, then she met his eyes with naked invitation.
Every ghostly scrap of emotion she possessed was battering her. For the longest time, she had buried her feelings in the routine and mundane chores that were heaped around her. She’d ignored her fatigue and loneliness. Ignored her hunger.
Yet now Hart was over her, a place she never expected to find him again. Inside her. He had tied her securely with unbearable tenderness, then made love to every place he could reach with his mouth and hands. Just yesterday she’d convinced herself she was immune to his capricious charm. Had to be, for his sake. He had thought he knew all her shameful secrets, but she knew better.
She did not understand it herself. A part of her was strong. Independent. She had managed miraculously since she came back to Hartford Hall.
But the other part, the darker part—the part that had allowed Ivor Hartford absolute control over her body could not be ignored. Though in the end he had gone much too far, in the beginning she had been so willing a victim.
She’d thought a man like Hart could never understand. She’d tried so hard to hang on to the image of Holy Hartford. Sneering. Cold. Dismissive. He was so much easier to hate that way.
Not hate. Never that, she admitted to herself. She could trick herself into thinking a lot of things, but hating Hart was not one of them. She had built up those barriers against him so he would stay safe from her. So she would stay safe from him.
She had never felt safer than now, tied to his bed, exposed to his hot gaze, cherished. He was not repelled by her desire to be dominated, to give herself totally. True, she’d enjoyed what he did to her in London. Who could not? He was an attentive and accomplished lover. But this morning was entirely different. She was on a new plane of passion, her skin sensitive to every astonishing graze of his fingertips and teeth. Each thrust sent her spiraling to a place she’d never believed truly existed. Heaven. Nirvana. Paradise. Whatever it was called, the risk of honesty was worth this reward.
He tore down the stocking. It didn’t take much to turn the gentle brush of their lips into something far deeper, darker, more elemental than a simple exchange of affection and power. The kiss was a pledge of trust on her part, a promise of tenacity on his. His mouth was warm and tasted of coffee. Sweet with a touch of spice. What their life together could be like. The final orgasm with their lips joined shook them both with its ferocity.
They lay entwined, the slick heat between them a living thing. Eden trembled with aftershocks, still edging into bliss. Hart finally found strength enough to withdraw, fumbling with the stocking that was now around her throat.
“I’ve tied a devilish knot.”
She smiled. “Yes, you have. Thank you for this. I have never—”
What could she say? That the sex act had never been so perfect for her? It was true, but she doubted he’d believe it, or even welcome the information.
He put a finger to her lips. “And neither have I, Eden, believe me. You should have told me.”
“I couldn’t.” Her voice was raw from her silenced shrieks.
He rolled off the bed, the slice of cool air between them both a balm and a pity. He went to his boot, pulling out a rather deadly-looking knife with which he sliced the curtain cords. “The parlor is rather gloomy at the moment. We’ll have to invest in a lot more roping.”
“You needn’t do this again, Hart. It’s not—it’s not natural.”
“Don’t be a goose. Do you know what you looked like beneath me? I felt like some savage god. It’s a wonder I didn’t spend at once like a schoolboy. Eden, who is to say what is natural? What is normal? I want to give you pleasure, no matter what you ask for. I told you that months ago when you made me kiss your toes.”
“But—”
“No buts. No more conversation whatsoever. I want you to rest now,” he said, his voice rough, too. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, I think I’ll give my first lesson to those little hoydens upstairs.”
She didn’t turn as she heard him gather up his clothes and go into the dressing room, but instead shut her eyes, imagining him splashing cold water upon his golden body to wash away the evidence of their decadence. When he bent to kiss her good-bye, she feigned sleep and didn’t move until she heard the door click shut.
Hart was simply too good to be true. He couldn’t possibly bear to live with a woman like her forever, no matter how much she wanted him to. No matter how much she loved him. His care of her today was nothing like his uncle’s, and it was everything she had ever dreamed of.
He would leave eventually. But while he was here, she’d see exactly how much pleasure he could deliver.
Before he went anywhere near the schoolroom, Hart went into the library and opened the pair of French doors that led to the back garden. The boxwood hedges beyond ruffled with the wind. All the fresh air in the world could not clear his head. The past complicated hour had been a revelation.
How easy it must have been for Ivor to mold Eden to his will. For all that she was a managing sort of female when it came to her family, she had an unspoken need to be passive. To lose herself completely. Hart thought back to their months in London. It was he who initiated sex, although she had been more than enthusiastic. She was as responsive as any man could wish. He knew he had pleased her, watched her sensual pink flush and heard her cries. But today—
Today she had been incandescent. And he had felt a surge of power he’d never known. He’d never suspected the family curse could thrum so pleasantly in his blood. Now that he knew what he was capable of, he could not wait to exercise his authority again.
He’d told her that nothing was taboo between them. Now he’d have to make it true, every single day for the rest of his life.
He chuckled wryly. He was Holy Hartford no more.
But he was not his uncle. He could never bear to see for himself the bleakness in Eden’s eyes that his uncle had drawn with such accuracy. Hart had thought the man monster enough, but now that he knew Eden’s vulnerability, what the man had done was somehow even more evil. Eden had been pushed far beyond her limit. It was no wonder she thought to escape her past beneath the bodies of Mrs. Brown’s patrons.
What had he said? Spring was when everything becomes new again. This was their chance to begin again, on a slightly different footing. Months ago he had attempted to save Eden from her unhappy history. He’d been so confident that he could by using his conventional, gentlemanly methods. But Eden wasn’t conventional, and he’d have to learn to be less of a gentleman.
He realized he’d relish this new task, stretch his own limits a bit. And first up was a trip up the stairs to the four saucy little girls whom Eden had rescued. They were bound to open his eyes, and perhaps even cross them.
After a lesson where all parties learned something valuable, Hart spent the rest of the day reacquainting himself with the duties of the lord of the manor. When Mattie informed him she was bringing a tea tray upstairs—for two, she said with a wink—Hart shut the ledger he was perusing away in his desk and told Mr. Pinckney to go home to his family.
Eden was sitting up on a bank of fluffed pillows in his bed, her dark hair down and curling around her shoulders. Her color was fresh, but Hart suspected it had more to do with a tinge of anger than health. Books were strewn all over the coverlet. Brutus was chewing on a corner of one of them. She was now in a pristine white night rail, a pale peach muslin shawl draped around her. Hart yearned to unwrap it and hold her close.
“Mattie tells me that you ordered me locked in here and practically naked for the
day.”
“You looked tired, Eden. I thought some time without your usual responsibilities would be restful.”
“I must insist, my lord, that I return to my own rooms,” she bit off, before Hart had a chance to seat himself on the chair that had been drawn by her bedside.
“Oh?” asked Hart innocently. “No doubt you miss your personal things. I’ll instruct Mattie to bring them.”
“Do you mean to keep me in here forever? I need my privacy!”
“I believe you’ve been alone all afternoon. No one has bothered you, save for this disreputable creature.” Brutus stretched out on the counterpane and resolutely ignored him. Hart hoped he wouldn’t find fleas in his bed later, or that the fleas wouldn’t find him. “How did he get in?”
“Through the window. He’s a daredevil. He prowls the rooftops every chance he gets, hunting for birds and taunting the dogs below. You can’t keep everyone away.” She looked so mutinous Hart had to stop himself from laughing.
“Now, which is it, Eden? Alone in this not inconsiderable splendor or surrounded by the staff? You can’t prefer it both ways.” Hart picked up a biscuit and popped it into his mouth in its entirety, then another. “May I pour you tea?”
“Seriously, Hart, you can’t imprison me and expect me to drink a bloody cup of tea.”
“You’re not imprisoned. I truly was only thinking of your health.” He poured some tea anyway, into a china cup painted with violets. “Two lumps, correct?”
“Yes. And poppycock. My health is perfectly fine. You were just as sleepless as I last night. I heard you at the door.”
“Indeed. I wanted in quite desperately.”
“After this morning—” Her cheeks deepened in color. “Just because I let you—you know—doesn’t mean I want to be hidden in here like a concubine in a harem.”
He pictured Eden covered in silk veils, him removing each layer and binding her to the bed with them. Yes, the new Hart’s horizons had definitely expanded.
“It’s only been a few hours, Eden. And you did sleep, didn’t you?”
“What else was I to do?”
“Precisely. I taught my first lesson in your stead. I didn’t want the girls to fall behind.” In truth it had been he who was left behind, trying to follow their excitable Cockney chatter. “They are bloodthirsty little wenches. We discussed Waterloo in all its fearsome glory.”
“You’ll be a bad influence on them.”
“I think the reverse may be true, Eden. But I can see why you enjoy working with them.”
She looked surprised. “You can?”
“Yes. Schooling is important, even for young ladies.” He winked at her before she thought to throw a pillow at him.
She toyed with her hands instead. “My father always thought so. He taught us himself. And a few of the village children. There still is no school here at Hartford. The vicar and his wife do what they can, but—” She shrugged her shoulders, then turned her shining dark eyes hopefully on him.
Hart was aware of the idea forming in Eden’s head and felt his pocketbook lighten considerably. But the proceeds from the sale of his uncle’s infamous books would go a long way in providing education to the local children in this sparsely populated place. Back of beyond, as Des had termed it so long ago. His back of beyond, however, a region that had been sadly neglected by his uncle, and now himself, for far too long.
“Tell you what,” Hart said, swallowing a bolstering sip of tea. “I’ll support a school here—well, not at the hall, but in Hartford village—if you promise me you will not try to teach in it. You will not have time.”
“And just what will I be doing?”
“My bidding, Eden. Seeing to my pleasure. Yours as well.”
“Please stop.”
“There is but half a year allotted to us, Eden. I’ll not waste a second more of it. I want you beneath me as often as I can manage. Or perhaps you above me. And this harem idea of yours is very intriguing.”
Eden nearly dropped her cup. “You won’t invite other women into our bed!”
“Of course not. You are more than enough for any man. But I was thinking of veils—yards and yards of rainbow silks to wrap you in and tie you fast.”
“Oh.” That seemed to satisfy her. Hart wondered what other creative entertainment he could provide to pique her interest. It was a challenge he was more than happy to undertake.
“I’ll ride over and speak to Mr. Christopher in the morning.”
“Ab-about veils?” She blushed.
“No, silly. About starting a school.”
“Hart! You would do that for me?” Her face lit with joy, and Hart decided he would do just about anything to see that expression far more often.
“Of course. It’s long past time. Maybe our girls could even attend once it’s established. I suppose we’ll need some sort of building. A teacher. Not you,” he added and grinned. He hoped she didn’t miss his saying “our girls.” He meant to do right by them, after spending an hour in their exhilarating if exasperating company. He had even more respect for Eden now that he knew the challenge she faced every morning promptly at nine. He, like Mrs. Brown, had severe doubts about little Jane. The others seemed to have actually benefited from being partly raised in a brothel; they at least knew some semblance of decorum and demeanor. He was quite certain Jane would have picked his pocket had his hand not been in it.
“So,” he said, helping himself to another tartlet and feeling rather heroic, “tell me about your lessons as a child.”
“Well, we studied the Bible, of course. Eli was keen on all the battles and bloodshed and made little maps of the Holy Land. I preferred the poetry.”
And how lacking in poetry her life had been. Hart gave an encouraging nod. As he listened to her talk about her brother and then, more hesitantly, her sister, he grieved anew for her lost innocence. But she seemed to derive pleasure from reminiscing over happy childhood times. He remembered his first attempts at getting to know her, and then remembered the cat, who was curled beneath the table.
He dropped a bit of sandwich to the floor and was amazed at the speed and efficiency with which the creature devoured the tidbit. “I suppose Brutus regards this room as his own now?”
“Oh, no. He’s too restless to stay in one place.”
“Good. I shouldn’t like to share my bed with him.”
“Then, sir, you shouldn’t share your food with him. He’ll become quite spoiled.”
“I don’t mind spoiling him if it will please you. I intend to spoil you, too, you know. Every night, all night, right here.” He reached for her hand.
“Are you saying you want me to stay in your room? To—to sleep in here with you?”
“Yes. Will you?”
Hart smiled as she struggled with framing her desire. Excellent. He was one step closer to winning her over. He marveled that he had ever thought her plain, for her radiance was near blinding. The soft fall of her chocolate hair, her thick-lashed eyes shyly seeking his own, her wondrous mouth moving to form the right words enchanted him utterly. But beyond her beauty was her spirit, strong and stubborn. She had survived what few would have, and he would spend the rest of his days making sure she had nothing whatever to fear. God save him, he loved her.
Chapter 20
CUMBRIA, JUNE 1819
Hart’s determination to protect Eden was called upon when he least expected it. Spring had given way to summer, yet Eden had not quite given way to him. She still refused his proposals, only with much less certainty than before. He might stop asking, but he’d never stop wanting.
It was as if they were married, however. She slept in his room. They made love, with and sometimes without the silken bonds and blindfolds they had both come to crave. They bickered. They played cards with the girls and divided their lessons. They read books of an evening in the parlor as the light faded across the sky, talked of tenants and ordering schoolbooks and slates for the school in the village Hart had promised her. Life was as clo
se to perfect as it could be without the blessing of the church, and Hart was sure by summer’s end Eden would finally agree to marry him, if only to set a good example for the girls.
A willow-work chaise piled with enough pillows to satisfy a sultan had been set up under the shade of a tree so she could teach them outdoors on fine days. She lay now in the deep shadows, half a glass of lemonade and a novel on an iron table at her side. Following another night of bad dreams, she was dozing after their luncheon. Her bare toes peeped out from under the hem of her dress. He had sent her to sleep with tiny kisses to her eyelids, the lobe of an ear, the sweet corner of her lips. Hart thought he could spend the entire afternoon watching her and the busy butterflies, although lying on his desk was a list of tasks to do as long as his arm. His attention was diverted, however, as Collins stepped quickly through the clipped passage in the hedge. At his advanced age Collins never pushed himself unless there was a good reason, and Hart felt immediate alarm. When the butler stood at some distance and motioned, Hart knew he had reason to fear.
Tempting Eden Page 31
