Barbara Pierce (30 page)

Fayne got up and pulled Kilby to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. With my sister and Brawley looking after Gypsy, I have the notion of keeping you here longer just to satisfy all my private whims. I estimate that should take a year or so,” he said, stalking her as she backed away from him. What he enjoyed about his wife was that she was game for anything.

“Ha-ha.” Kilby made a silly face at him and danced out of his reach. Unbeknownst to her, she was moving exactly in the direction he desired. “And we are not alone. Aggie is still at the house.”

Fayne slowly shook his head. “I respectfully must disagree. I dismissed her. I assure you, my dear duchess, we are alone. Not a single soul will hear your screams.”

Kilby halted at his odd comment. “Why would I—”

Fayne exploded into action. Throwing her over his shoulder, he headed straight into the lake.

“Oh, my God, you would not dare!” she screeched at him as she pounded on his back. The water was up to his waist and he was showing no signs of stopping. “Fayne. Truly, the water is cold. You would not—”

Kilby screamed as Fayne dove into the water. Taking them under, he playfully rolled their entwined bodies before surging to the surface.

She came up gasping for air. He had not taken them out too far. Kilby was able to stand with the water level barely covering her breasts. He leered at her, liking how the water had molded her dress to her body. Angling her hand, she splashed an arc of water at him. “You idiot! I had my mouth open. I swallowed half the lake when you dunked us.”

“Half the lake, eh?” he asked, laughing at her exaggeration. “As much as that?”

She stifled a giggle, since she was pretending to be vexed with him. “Yes, you rat!”

They were a sight to see with their clothes plastered to their bodies like a second skin. A steady stream of droplets dripped from the sodden mass of hair pinned high on her head, making it seem as if her head had sprung a leak.

Kilby began to trudge through the water away from him toward the embankment, but Fayne seized her arm. “Where are you going? I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Oh, you have done enough, Your Grace.” She pushed back the wet hair plastered to her face. Her coiffure was listing to one side. “I intend to remove my soggy clothes and put on the remaining dry dress I have in my possession.” She reached into the water and pulled off her shoes and stockings. Stuffing the hosiery into the toes of her wet shoes, she hurled the pair onto the dry bank.

For a lady used to changing her attire several times a day, her extremely limited wardrobe was a nuisance. Fayne commiserated with her. He had only borrowed a spare shirt from Brawley before they had departed London. “Our clothes needed a good washing anyway.”

She laughed at his odd logic, and shook her head. “No, I am not going to encourage you.”

Yet she already had with the coy tilt of her head and a seductive smile on her lips. “Stand still while I finish this,” he ordered, opening the panel at the back of her dress.

He made quick work of the cloth tapes. Ignoring her
protests, he shoved the wet fabric down over her arms. “Step out of the dress. This is tricky business doing this task in the water.”

She held on to his shoulder and let him free the garment from her legs. Kilby had not put on a corset or petticoats this morning. The remaining chemise was too sheer when wet to protect her modesty. Immediately she crossed her arms over her breasts. “No, I cannot possibly—someone might see us,” she said plaintively.

He bundled her dress into a wet ball and threw it in the general direction of her discarded shoes. “I told you. We are alone. Do you believe I would allow another man to see you so?” He stripped her of the chemise and she sank deeper into the water to prevent him from seeing her.

“I never know what to think,” she replied, pouting sullenly. “You always seem to be one step ahead of me at every turn.”

His white teeth flashed at her as he smiled. “Why, thank you, little wolf. I do believe you mean that as a compliment.” As Fayne stripped down, his shirt and breeches plopped on top of her garments in quick succession.

“Not really.”

Fayne waded deeper, closing in on her. He and his sister had spent countless summers swimming in the lake. “Did anyone teach you how to swim?”

As her expression dimmed, her eyes conveyed the sadness his question evoked. “Archer taught me when I was seven.”

Taking her into his arms, he silently cursed. Fayne did not want her reflecting on her brother. He threaded his fingers through her hair, shaking her loose coil of hair free of its hairpins. She whirled around, trying to rescue the pins as they vanished into the murky depths of the lake.

“Fayne! Those were the last of my pins!” she exclaimed in exasperation, striking both of her fists against his chest.

“It matters little,” he said casually. “I prefer it when you wear it down anyway.” To support his point, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. It came as no surprise that his cock thickened and stirred in response.

Her violet eyes blinked at him beguilingly. “Truly, everyone is gone?” She circled her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth up to his.

Fayne flicked the tip of his tongue at the drop of water on her nose. “My oath as a gentleman,” he said, lowering his head for another kiss.

Kilby, his mischievous wolf, had other plans. Waiting for the proper moment, she braced her hands on his shoulders to rise out of the water and submerge him.

“Ha! You, my duke, are no gentleman!” She pushed off him and swam away.

Fayne broke the surface of the water, laughing. She was swimming several yards ahead of him, when he began his pursuit. Although she was surprisingly an excellent swimmer, his long, powerful strokes ensured that he would be the winner.

He caught her by the waist, hugging her slim figure to his own. “Take a breath,” was his only warning before he sent them both under. Maneuvering her until she was facing him, Fayne locked his lips over hers. Air bubbles tickled his face as he relished the sweet unique taste of her mouth.

They were both breathless when he finally let them surface. Kilby wrapped her legs around his waist. “So you have decided to be playful, eh?”

Content to allow him to support her in the water, Kilby reached back with both hands and squeezed the excess water out of her hair to prevent it from dripping in her face.

“You deserved it,” she said unremorsefully. “I sensed it when I first met you, and now I know it as fact. Fayne Carlisle, Duke of Solitea, you are a very wicked man.”

The dimples in his cheeks appeared as he grinned at her.
“My darling girl, do you expect me to disagree? The Carlisle males were made for sin!”

Kilby stared at her husband, feeling warm despite the cool water. She could not refute his arrogant boast. Fayne was the handsomest man she had ever beheld. The man was flawless. His face was beautifully formed, with a strong masculine jawline that kept him from being too pretty. Then there were his eyes. Oh, those intense green orbs gleamed at her with such need. Her legs tightened around his waist in anticipation. She reached for his queue and untied the leather thong.

“You make me feel sinful, too, husband,” she shyly confessed.

Sweet heaven, the things the man did to her body. She felt incredibly wanton whenever he touched her. Using his mouth, his hands, and his sex, he had branded her body, leaving her to crave him even more. The intensity of these longings for Fayne sometimes frightened her. No one had come to mean so much to her as quickly as he had.

“I’m pleased to hear it is so,” he said, his hand reaching between their bodies. He was fully aroused. As he shifted her expertly, she felt the head of his manhood push demandingly at her feminine portal. “Open for me, love.”

With her legs wrapped around his torso, she was utterly exposed to his penetration. Moving against her in short, rapid thrusts Fayne eased his way into her snug sheath.

“That’s it,” he said, the muscles in his throat visibly tightening. He grunted in ecstasy as he filled her to the hilt. “A perfect fit.” Using the buoyancy of the water to his advantage, he moved her up and down him.

There was little for Kilby to do but to hold on, letting Fayne control their pace. Her wet breasts slapped against his chest as the water churned and lapped around their entwined bodies. Grabbing a fistful of his long dark cinnamon-colored
hair, she pressed her lips to his cool cheek. Her tongue laved the abrasive stubble along his jaw.

“Kiss me,” she said, not above making her own demands. Fayne was used to leading, of being the one in control. Each time he lost his formidable restraint with her, she saw it as a small victory, a measure of her true power.

Fayne instantly obeyed, piercing her lips with his tongue. She parried her tongue against his. Kilby loved the texture and taste of him. His tongue undulated and evaded hers, daring her to reclaim it. She growled into his mouth when he escaped her questing tongue and tickled her palate.

He drew back and bit her lower lip. Tugging on the soft flesh playfully, he reached for her left breast. “You look like a violet-eyed mermaid with your black hair billowing in the water.” His thumb caressed her puckered nipple.

“If I am a mermaid, who are you?” she asked, secretly pleased by his description. As a child she had splashed in the water, wishing she could change herself into the mythical sea creature.

“Me?” Fayne brought her flush against him. Kilby strained and arched her back, trying to pull him in deeper. “I’m the man who netted the temptress.”

Fayne spun them in the water in a slow dancelike manner as he rocked her against him. Her long hair swirled around them, giving his bare flesh feathery caresses. The playfulness that had prompted him to toss her into the lake was waning as the predatory male in him craved completion. The water surrounding them churned like a storm-tossed sea. His vision dimmed. Focused solely on Kilby’s face, he impaled her on his cock over and over. She urged him to go faster. Fayne firmly cupped her slick buttocks with his hands and increased their pace.

A few seconds later, Kilby tossed her head back and sobbed out his name. She said his name reverently, like an
arcane incantation, unleashing his restraint. Bringing her down on him fully, his cock flexed deeply inside her as he climaxed inside her. His breath came out in harsh broken puffs. He held her fiercely, his hot seed jetting into her, filling her womb.

The feeling of contentment was heady. It was too soon, but Fayne wanted her again. “For a man living under a supposed curse, I am generously blessed.”

They were fortunate they had not drowned each other in the lake. After Fayne had spent himself into her, his knees had collapsed and the water closed over their heads. Kilby soon discovered her legs were not much better than Fayne’s. Wobbly from their lovemaking, they managed to stagger to shore.

It was one thing to play naked in the water, it was quite another to walk about without any clothes. Her dress and chemise were too wet and muddy to wear. She was prepared to return to the house for dry clothes; however, Fayne had another suggestion. Shaking out the blanket she had been using while she had read a book under a tree, Fayne laid it out on the grassy sun-drenched banks. He had assured her that this was a pleasant albeit lazy way to dry themselves.

Fayne rejected all her hasty excuses as to why his suggestion was impractical. Dragging her onto the blanket, he lay down beside her. It took her a few minutes to relax. Soon the warmth of the sun began to penetrate the icy coolness of her skin. Lying on her side, she idly played with the dark curly hairs on his chest. He had his arm slung over his eyes and his breathing was even.

Kilby wondered if he had fallen asleep. “Fayne?”

“Hmph?”

“What did you mean when you said that you were a supposed curse?” A terrible thought suddenly struck her. “Is it because of me? Are you cursed because you married me?”

He lifted his arm from his eyes and gave her an irritated look. “Don’t be daft. How could marrying a woman who matches my carnal appetites so perfectly that she drains every dram of my strength be a curse? Fifteen minutes ago, if I had drowned in that lake I would have died a happy man.”

“Oh,” she said, confused on why her innocent questions had ignited his temper. “Then where does the being cursed part come in?”

Fayne pulled himself up and braced himself on his elbows. “No one has mentioned the Solitea curse to you?”

“Your family is cursed?” She could not recall anyone mentioning a curse connected to Fayne’s family.

“It depends if you believe in such things, I suppose,” he said, his lip curling in scorn.

She caressed his stomach soothingly. There was something about him at times that reminded her of a feral beast. “I take it that you do not.”

He rolled onto his side and laced her fingers with his. “No. Not really.” Fayne shook his head and chuckled bitterly. “At least I didn’t think I did.”

Kilby’s lips parted. “Your father. The death of your father has something to do with this.” No one could lose a loved one and not think he or she was cursed.

“The curse has been a part of the Carlisle history for so long, no one knows its origins. Nevertheless, you are right. My doubts arose after the duke suddenly died in your boudoir.”

She hoped he was not going to press her for details about his father. Kilby was not prepared to talk about it to him yet. “Exactly what is this curse?”

Fayne scrubbed at his face wearily and sighed. “If you are expecting a clever riddle hinting at the wrongdoing and the salvation, there is none. All we Carlisles have are facts.”

“And they are?” she prompted.

He extended his arm and made a sweeping motion with his hand. “I come from a long, impressive line of descendents. Do you know what they all have in common? Each male born heir to the Solitea title died at an early age.” When she said nothing, he continued, “The men in my family are bred for reckless adventures. We live hard, embrace danger, and are too handsome for our own good.”

“I doubt you will get many people to disagree with you.”