Chapter Sixteen
God above, had a woman ever looked at him with such pure seduction in her smile? Blood surged to Gerard’s groin. The Star of India had nothing on Lady Evelyn’s sparkling sapphire eyes. The lass possessed a cheeky allure that damn near intoxicated him.
In all his life, he’d never beheld such a temptation. She drew him in with a natural magnetism he could neither deny nor resist. She stood before him, uttering her enticing proposition in a velvety tone. She tried to appear a woman of the world, but the slight tremble in her voice, as she spoke the words that set his cock to throbbing, betrayed the truth.
Lady Evelyn was not as worldly as she liked to pretend. Not by a long shot.
She’d loved before. Something in her eyes told him that, a hesitation her bold words could not entirely disguise. Someone had hurt her, a deep wound that had not yet healed.
He’d heard the insinuations in Lady Houghton’s cutting words. There’d been a scandal some years ago, in London—a cowardly son of some high-and-mighty duke or other had left Evelyn at the altar, justifying his dishonorable conduct with vicious lies. Harrison had lived in London at the time, and while he claimed an ignorance of the more salacious details, he’d known enough to confirm that the bastard who’d abandoned her in such a humiliating fashion had taken pains to impugn Evelyn’s honor.
Sweeping a honey-gold curl behind her ear, she studied him. Anticipation brightened her eyes. And a trace…slight, but there nonetheless…of apprehension.
Ah, sweet lass, ye’ve nothing to fear from me.
He’d be gentle. God knew he wanted her, but it was too soon. Too soon to take her to bed. Too soon to claim her as his own. No, tonight he’d be a patient lover, no matter the urging of his bollocks and cock. If he had to douse himself in cold water afterward to put his demanding cock in its place, so be it. This night was about Evelyn. Kissing her. Tempting her. Testing her limits until she knew what she wanted, what she craved.
Tonight, he’d explore her sweet body with his hands. With his mouth.
If she wanted him.
He wouldn’t lead her on.
He had his duty. He had to find out what she knew…what the bookseller might’ve given her.
In the long run, that was what mattered. Wasn’t it?
Hellfire, he should not harbor such doubt. He cared for Evelyn. He could not deny the longing in his heart she soothed with every smile. They’d have tonight. But come the dawn, his mission would take priority. His honor demanded he follow through and achieve his objective, whatever the bitter cost.
Casting aside the thoughts, he drew in her intoxicating scent. Lavender and woman, nearly irresistible.
Threading his fingers through her silky golden curls, he tipped her head back and kissed her with a leisurely focus on stirring her hunger for him. Intensifying her need for his touch. Kindling her trust, if only in the truth his body could offer.
“Ye’re beautiful, Evelyn,” he whispered against her ear.
She gasped as he swept her into his arms. He carried her to the settee, placing her on the small tufted couch. He kneeled beside her. Leaning over her, he kissed her again. Could he ever get enough of her sweet, rosy mouth?
Leaving her long enough to dim the lamp on the side table, he drank in her beauty. Even in a skirt and blouse that did not show so much as an inch of skin below her throat, other than her slender, long-fingered hands, the sight of her perfectly rounded curves and the desire in her eyes conjured an ache for her.
Damnation, he wanted to carry her off to bed. He wanted to strip her bare and lay claim to the inner sweetness her saucy words could not disguise.
What was it about Evelyn that set his body aflame, even though he had not removed so much as the cameo brooch at her throat?
“I presume you intend to take off your jacket…at the very least.” Reclining on the settee, she eyed him with an interest so unabashedly sensual, lust percolated in his veins.
“Aye. Anything for a lady,” he said, shrugging off the tweed garment. He unfastened the buttons at his throat, baring a tantalizing vee of sun-bronzed skin.
He dropped to his knees at her side. “Now, I’ll ask ye to do something for me.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, as if she’d anticipated some wildly wicked command. “What would you like?”
“Let down yer hair, Evelyn. For me.”
She blushed, her cheeks as pink as if he’d asked her to strip the clothing from her beautiful curves. The softness of her smile warmed him. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted to leave no doubt of his intention to taste her sweetness. He’d never been a patient man, but now, he’d have to learn that art.
One slender hand pulled at the chignon she’d loosely secured. Easing the long tresses free, she watched his reaction as the gilded curls tumbled over her shoulders. Giving the silky strands a shake, she brushed a stray lock behind her ear.
“I presume you’ll want to kiss me again.”
“Aye.” He let out a breath. “That, and more.”
Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “It’s my turn to make a request.”
“What would please ye, Evelyn?”
“Your shirt…take it off. Please.”
“As ye wish.” With that, he tugged the linen garment over his head.
Her gaze trailed its descent to the carpet beside them. And then, she turned her attention to him.
Was it his imagination, or did her eyes go impossibly wide?
Narrowing her dark-fringed sapphire eyes, she studied him. “You do possess…quite a strapping physique… Your shoulders are even broader than I’d expected. You’re quite muscular, Mr.—” She pulled in a breath. “Gerard.”
Her voice caressed his name. The soft, velvet sound unleashed a bolt of desire through his body. “That’s better,” he managed, gritting his teeth against the urge to take Evelyn in his arms, press her slender body against the plush cushions, and pleasure her until she was mad for him.
Reaching for him, she teased his flesh with a light, tentative touch. Tracing the rise and fall of the muscles on his shoulders. Gliding over the sinews in his throat. Urging his biceps to flex beneath her attentions. Her fingertips danced over his chest, weaving through the dusting of hair. She smiled, subtle and quietly alluring. Her unconcealed delight in her saucy exploration only fueled his desire.
He dragged in another breath. His cock, reckless and with a mind of its own, urged him to throw caution to the wind and take her. Then and there. Bared to his eyes on Houghton’s settee.
He cast aside the thought, tempting as it was. He would pleasure her tonight.
So many times, he’d thought only of his own hungers, his own carnal demands. But tonight… It was different with this English lass.
Everything was different.
He wanted to feel her response to his touch. He wanted to hear her soft moans as passion overtook her.
He wanted her to shatter with sheer bliss in his arms.
Her arms coiled around his neck, tugging him closer. And then, her hands slipped down his back, gently kneading his muscles with her fingers. Sensation as powerful as an electric current surged through his body.
Reining in his hunger, he propped himself on one arm, gazing down at her.
“Ye’re sure of this, lass?”
“Quite so.” Her smile teased gently. “I want to feel your hands on my skin. I want to learn the feel of your body. Shall we create another memory…Gerard?”
Ah, his name on her lips was an elixir for his soul. She infused her voice with a desire he could not have denied if he wanted to.
Ducking his head, he claimed her mouth, kissing her without restraint. She tasted of brandy and woman. Sweet and provocative and more tempting than Venus come to Earth.
His hands sought and found the buttons of her blouse. With quick, sure movements, he opened the garment and slid the silk over her shoulders. She shrugged it away.
Only a thin lawn chemise stood between her and his touch.
Dragging in a breath, he trailed kisses along the curve of her jaw, along the slope of her shoulder, lower…to the swell of her breasts. Anointing each in turn through the gauze fabric, he slid the chemise over her shoulders. Baring her to his eyes, he cupped one of her breasts against his hand. With the lightest of touches, he caressed her peach-soft skin. His thumb teased the bud of her nipple. She moaned against his mouth, a low, throaty sound of pleasure.
His engorged cock rebelled against the confines of his trousers. Grinding his teeth against the potent need, he focused his attention on her delectable body.
He brushed feather-soft kisses over each firm, rounded globe. His lips caressed each nipple in turn, his tongue teasing the pebbled buds even as his hand swept a sensuous path along her firm belly, trailing slowly over her velvet-smooth flesh.
“I want to touch ye, love,” he murmured between kisses. “I want to make ye wild for me.”
Drinking in the feel of her body against his, he waited. If she dared not go further, he would not force his touch upon her. He needed her trust. Not for the sake of his mission.
For her alone.
Evelyn deserved a man she could trust to treat her with honor. She deserved a man who would love her until she shed every inhibition, every shred of restraint.
He longed to give her pleasure. But he would not endanger the fragile bond that connected them.
The choice had to be hers.
The lovely minx arched against him. “Oh, Gerard,” she said on a sigh. Canting her hips, she wove her fingers through his hair, her fingernails gently teasing. “I need you.”
“Aye, who am I to deny a lady?” He kissed her lips, his tongue engaging hers in a tantalizing dance. Much more of this, and he’d lose control. No, he had to keep the focus on her…on sensation and desire and leading her to the brink of control.
As he kissed her, he lightly caressed the taut flesh of her belly. He edged up her skirts, just enough to slip his hand beneath her petticoats.
His fingers massaged her firm thighs. Like velvet, her smooth skin. When she relaxed against him, ready for his touch, he found the slit in her linen drawers.
She gasped, her breath expelling in a series of puffs. Her hands curved over him, her fingernails lightly digging into the muscles of his shoulders and back.
“Do ye want more, love?” he murmured against her sweet mouth.
“Yes.” The word was naught but a sigh, but her meaning was clear.
Kissing her deeply, he slipped his fingers through the opening in the fabric. Gliding his fingers through the nest of curls between her legs, he sought and found the center of her pleasure. She was so damned ready for him. Ready for his touch. Ready for the raw pleasure he could bring her. God above, she was so warm and wet for him, so damned responsive to each tiny stroke of his fingers.
Drawing tight circles around the nub of flesh, he drank in her desperate little moans. Like a man dying of thirst who’d come upon the clean waters of a Highland stream, he reveled in the way she arched her back for him, drawing him nearer still, the small, pleading sounds of need that escaped her lips.
She was close. So bluidy close.
Her body went rigid, and her inner muscles pulsed against his fingers. He dipped his head to muffle her soft cry with his kiss.
“Oh my,” she whispered, curled against him, trusting him implicitly.
She reached for him then, lightly stroking the ridge of his cock as it defied the too-damned-tight crotch of his trousers. He smiled to himself, even as he lightly groaned. Much more of that, and she would unman him.
“Gerard, I want you… I want to feel you…”
Gently, he took hold of her hands, stilling them. “Lass, ye must not—”
“You… you don’t want me to touch you? I…I don’t understand.”
He released her. Threading his fingers through her lush honey-gold curls, he smiled. “Dinnae want ye? Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Then…why?”
“When ye touch me like that, I’m tempted to take ye here. And now.” He kissed her again. Softer this time, a leisurely possession. “Ye deserve so much more than a quick tumble. Tonight, lass, I wanted your pleasure. I wanted to feel the satin of your skin and to smell the lemon fragrance of your hair. Truth be told, if I had ye all to myself, I might well take ye to my bed and hold ye through the night. But at this moment, I just need ye in my arms. Here. And now.”
…
Secure in Gerard’s warm embrace, Evelyn tucked her head against his shoulder. He’d coiled his arms around her, holding her to his lean, muscular body. So much power in those sinewy muscles. So much strength. And yet, he’d touched her with such gentleness, such restraint, he threatened to break down the protections she’d built around herself. She’d vowed never to take more from a man than pleasure. What was it about this Highlander that reduced her well-considered defenses to rubble?
She’d wanted this, so very badly. She’d wanted—him.
And now, she lay in his arms. Sated. Shivering with tiny sensations that continued to ripple pleasure through her body.
She basked in the bliss he’d offered. Without shame. Without regret.
He’d taken little for himself, loving her tenderly.
If only he had not held back. How she longed to feel his raw desire. To feel the unleashed passion in his male body.
Snuggling closer, she drank in his essence, that faint aroma of crisp soap and man that stirred her senses.
Pity he was a dangerous man. Perhaps even more so than the man who’d broken her heart. A man like Gerard would wear down her defenses until they ceased to exist.
But she knew better now. She’d never entirely surrender herself.
She’d indulge her passions.
But her heart was another matter, entirely.