Chapter 30
“Wherein explorations are made, and a great deal of ground covered, with much delight.”
Surely, he could not run now, Henri thought, although rational thoughts were rather hard to pursue with any enthusiasm as Lawrence kissed a path down her neck.
But this was not a moment for taking chances.
She had to make it so that he couldn’t find a way to wriggle out of this, in case somewhere in that stubborn head of his he came to believe she hadn’t meant what she’d said, or that if faced with the reality of following him alone, courage would fail her.
He wanted to stay, that much he had admitted, and she believed him. How much of it was because of her, and how much that he simply wanted his life back she couldn’t be certain of, not yet, but she intended to find out.
“Lawrence,” she breathed his name against his mouth but then put her fingers against his lips before he could claim another kiss. “Come with me.”
He frowned at her as she moved away from him and opened the door, but she was going to take both of their fates in her hands, and whatever came of it would be on her head.
She knew the risks he had illustrated were genuinely something to fear, but she also knew it was a risk she was willing to take.
Taking his hand, she led him through the silent house, praying no one would see them and spook him into changing his mind.
The door to her bedroom opened without so much as a creak to give them away. Henri sent Annie a heartfelt, if silent, word of thanks as she looked around and found the room serene and tidy, with just enough lamplight to cast the room with a warm and intimate glow.
The fire added to the warmth, crackling merrily and heating the air further, though she felt she really didn’t need the help. Her skin was burning with anticipation, with the need to be touched, and the desire to try the thing that Annie had mentioned earlier too.
She had seen the look in Lawrence’s eyes when she’d decided to give him a hint at dinner.
It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to pick up that asparagus but had been so worth it for the confidence his reaction had given her.
She had almost laughed out loud at his expression and was very relieved Alex had been thoughtfully studying his plate.
Yes, she felt he would certainly like that and was eager to test the theory.
She turned to find him closing the door behind him and removing a pistol from his jacket to lay it carefully on the bedside table, a reminder perhaps of the seriousness of his concerns.
But then he looked at her and suddenly she was in no doubt that he was going to stay.
There was a possessive light in his eyes that made her breath hitch as he walked towards her, and continued to move, circling her, his expression one that left her in no doubt of his intentions.
“A very lovely dress, Miss Morton,” he said, his voice low as he walked to stand behind her.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling and biting her lip at his formal tone.
His hands slid around her waist, pulling her back against him so that she could feel the hard heat of his erection pressed between the clef of her bottom.
She sighed and tilted her head back to lean against his shoulder.
With one hand he tilted her head a little sideways, so that his mouth was almost against hers, and she could feel his breath fast and uneven against her lips.
“But if you ever wear this in front of anyone but me, I shall be forced to kill every man that lays eyes on you, do I make myself clear?”
She smiled up at him, eyes glittering with amusement. “I shall make sure to only wear it in front of people I despise then.”
He growled, a low noise in his throat that sounded just a little desperate before his mouth closed over hers.
His hand tugged at the shoulders of the dress, forcing it down to expose her breasts and he cupped them both, calloused fingers rubbing over the tender flesh, pinching her nipples and making her cry out in surprise at the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain that coursed through her.
She turned in his arms, wanting to touch him in return, and setting her fingers to the task of undoing his cravat, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shedding the far too many layers that kept them apart.
“Off, take it off!” she said, tugging at his linen shirt and ignoring the pleased amusement in his eyes at her impatience.
She held her breath as he removed the offending article, pulling it up and over his head, and it was a moment or two before she remembered to breathe once again.
The tanned chest she had tried hard to ignore the first morning she had awoken with him beside her on the ship now had her undivided attention.
She placed her hands flat on the upper part of his chest and allowed her hands to smooth over him.
Over the curve of muscle, pausing for a moment to tweak the darker circles of skin that puckered at her touch.
She smiled at the way his breath hitched, pleased that he reacted as she had when he’d touched her.
Her hands moved to the scars he bore, scars of the bullets that had almost taken his life all those years ago.
Henri felt a shiver at the idea she might never have known him and leaned forward to press her lips to each in turn.
First his upper left shoulder, then to the right of his chest, and then, moving lower, she kissed his left side and the ragged scar where the bullet had torn his skin.
She kissed each with a reverence that she felt in her heart and hoped to convey to him with her touch.
And then her attention wandered, lips and fingers trailing to his stomach and the scattering of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.
She sank to her knees and moved to the buttons on his breeches, undoing them, one by one, hearing the quality of his breathing change.
Looking up she found his eyes on her, intense and with that same look she had seen at the dinner table.
Pleased by that slightly febrile glint in his eyes she allowed the material to fall open and turned her attention to the part of him she had only been able to guess at from Annie’s indelicate advice and her own limited explorations of him before now.
She looked up at the murmured curse he gave as she touched him but was far too consumed with curiosity to pay it much heed. Instead she returned her attention to the strange combination of hard strength, encased in satiny skin.
Her fingers trailed over him and dallied at the tip, finding it glistening and wet.
She wondered if this was further evidence of his desire and looked up to find his eyes dark with wanting.
Holding that dark gaze, she leaned in a little and touched him with her tongue, finding the salt and musk and that remarkably silky skin something she wished to explore further.
He closed his eyes, his hands fisted at his sides, and she smiled, pleased that she appeared to be on the right track, for torment was a part of this, if Annie was to be believed, and Henri was inclined to do just that.
She leaned in once more and licked, trailing her tongue from hilt to tip in one long, lingering sweep, and gloried in the deep, heartfelt groan of pleasure that issued forth as a result.
The sound of his pleasure, the look of undiluted ecstasy on his face, tugged at something inside of her, something raw and primal and desperately powerful.
With growing confidence only matched by a hunger that burned in her blood and made her skin ache she held him still, closed her mouth over the glossy head and caressed him with her tongue.
The curse that escaped him might have alarmed her, might have made her believe she’d hurt him, if it wasn’t for the hand that sank into her hair, holding her in place, and the way he spoke her name a moment later. “Henri, oh God, Henri ...”
She smiled around him and continued in her efforts, lavishing attention on him with tongue and lips and the occasional teasing scrape of her teeth. Until he stilled her with a desperate cry.
“Stop, for the love of God!”
She was hauled unceremoniously to her feet and pulled into his arms, his mouth demanding, frantic hands tearing at the delicate buttons of her dress until she stood in nothing but a thin shift.
At this point his remaining patience appeared to be gone for good as he lifted her and laid her on the bed, pausing only to kick off breeches and boots with muttered oaths until he was quite wonderfully, gloriously naked and prowling over the bed towards her.
“Well, Miss Morton, I hope you are happy?” he growled, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes as he crawled over her. “It seems you have me where you so clearly wanted me.”
She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. “Well ... not quite yet, sir,” she said, blinking at him with what she hoped was an innocent expression. “But I do believe we are getting there.”
He gave a bark of laughter before silencing them both with a searing kiss that scattered any remaining ability for clever remarks.
Thought of any kind vanished completely as his lips continued on their path, mapping the lines of her body with delicious pauses at points of interest, as he lavished his attention on one breast and then the other.
She arched beneath him, revelling in the feeling of his skin against hers, the heat of his mouth on her, those rough hands caressing as he explored her tender flesh.
Henri wondered at her own surprise as he continued down, kissing his way down her body until he parted the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, spreading her open to him.
She had enjoyed bestowing her attentions on him, using her mouth to bring him pleasure, but it simply hadn’t crossed her mind that . ..
The sound that escaped her throat was like nothing she had heard before. It sounded wild and wanton and illustrated perfectly just how she felt. She felt the soft huff of a chuckle against her overheated skin, and then he pushed her legs wider apart and she found she was only too willing to comply.
She writhed as he held her still with strong arms that allowed her no escape, should she be foolish enough to want to.
His tongue explored and laved her, his mouth taking turns to suck at the delicate flesh before returning his tongue to its devilish work.
And just when she thought there was nothing that could surpass his wonderfully wicked tongue and the torment it gave; his fingers joined the attack on her sanity and caressed her from the inside.
And suddenly there was nothing else, nowhere else to go and a great unnamed force overtook her, power building around the centre of his attentions, enticing, tugging and pulling her into some decadent void, body and soul, until she held her breath, aware of some new precipice she lingered on.
And then she fell. Falling as the world shattered, any grip on reality flew apart and she heard his name on her lips in some distant place, but she was lost and wanted no return, adrift in a sensuous sea where nothing but this mattered.
She came back to herself in increments, blinking, dazed in the soft light of the bedroom, her limbs molten and too heavy to lift.
Her eyes fastened on the very male, exceptionally smug man lying by her side.
She gave a small huff of amusement at his expression and allowed him to preen.
She couldn’t help but feel he deserved it.
“Goodness,” she murmured, barely able to summon the energy to speak aloud.
A deep chuckle rumbled through the bed and a finger touched her mouth, and then it trailed slowly and surely down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, and irresistibly on to recently charted but still unfamiliar territory.
“Miss Morton, I find I am bound to point out to you that goodness had little to do with it.”
She giggled as his curious fingers teased the soft line of skin at the top of her thigh. “That’s as may be,” she replied, trying to scowl and failing. “But I swear if you ever call me Miss Morton again, I shall hit you.”
With a grin he moved, insinuating himself in the space between her legs and dipping his head to steal a kiss.
“Well, I find that suits my plans after all,” he said, his voice low, and his eyes intent on hers. “As I intend to change your name to Sinclair with all due haste.” And then he silenced any words of triumph or joy she might have uttered by claiming her mouth with his own.