Kathryn Caskie (13 page)

Or Griffin, for that matter.

When she wriggled her body downward, he was stunned by the passionate immediacy of her response to him. By the way the curve of her body eased against him, the way her mouth sought his. In all honesty, he had quite expected an altogether more missish reaction when he shed half his clothing and moved over her.

Griffin knew he ought to slow his drive to have her, but that feat was near impossible when he could feel the moist heat of her against him, even through what clothes remained between them.

Bending, he trailed a kiss along her collarbone, then lower to her breast once again. He kissed her nipple, then drew it slightly into his hot mouth, wetting it. Hannah’s head thrashed to the side, making him glance up.

Her eyes were tightly closed, and she had drawn half of her full lower lip into her mouth and held the pink flesh between her teeth.

Griffin’s own lips curved upward. He was glad his touches tantalized her. He wanted to give her pleasure. So much more.

He prayed the rain would continue to pound the tent above them as he leaned just enough to allow his hand to catch up her skirts and move between her knees.

Her inner thigh was as smooth and soft as fine silk, but he did not linger to savor the sensation. Instead, his palm slipped ever higher, his fingers nudging their way past gatherings of fabric until he found his way to wet heat between her legs.

Watching her face, Griffin eased a finger between her womanly folds and, to his pleasure, found her slick with want. A second finger joined the first, and he eased them higher, moving over the most sensitive part of her in small, circular motions.

Hannah’s eyes went wide, and she gasped. He felt the muscles of her thighs pressing against him as she tried desperately to close her legs.

He moved his lips level with hers and kissed her deeply as his fingers stroked her rhythmically below.

His tongue urged her mouth open to him, which she did eagerly as she pressed her lower body hard against his moving hand, making his body ache unbearably for her.

His mind whirled. He wanted her. She wanted him—but did she know what that truly meant?

Griffin stilled his hand. He broke the bond of their kiss and, still positioned between her spread thighs, leaned back on his heels.

“I want you, Hannah.”

“I-I want you, too.” But her voice shook, and Griffin was not at all sure of her conviction.

“Do you know what I mean, Hannah? What I truly mean?” He stared hard into her eyes. “I want to make you
mine
.”

Her eyes were wide and as round as the mirrors in his telescope. She nodded, and leaned up on her elbows. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you? Then you know there will be no returning to the way of things before this night.” Griffin came up on his knees and bent to take her shoulders in his hands.

Hannah lifted her hand and laid it atop the bulge pressing against his buckskin breeches. “I know, Griffin.” She eased her hand along the rise of his shaft, then cut away to catch one of the buttons to the left.

Hannah sat up, causing Griffin to release her shoulders from his grasp and straighten his back. His gaze followed the movement of her hands as she deftly twisted and released each button, then drew away the flap, leaving him fully exposed to her.

Hannah swallowed deeply as the length of him grew and rose up slightly against her bared breasts. That was the only hint of fear or uncertainty he glimpsed. In the next instant, she was easing his buckskin down his hips and thighs.

She looked up at him then, boldly grasping him in her right hand and easing the ring of her fingers higher. She paused just before reaching the tip of him.

He took her delicate hand in his and eased it over his tip. Her expression was sure and confident, but her fingers quivered against his skin as he guided her hand downward again, showing her, teaching her.

When Griffin felt himself begin to grow in her grasp, again he expected her to shy away from him. But once more her passion surprised him by edging his hand away.

Her small hand followed the trail he had shared with her, gently at first, then more firmly, as her confidence in her movements was honed.

His hardness grew until he knew she must stop. Taking her hand in his, he halted her strokes, needing to stop the throbbing. He peered deep into her eyes, and she, this innocent, understood.

Hannah blinked rapidly and inhaled a deep breath, as if what she was about to do took great courage. Then, she leaned back onto the woolen pallet, releasing him just as her back brushed the ground.

Her hand remained poised in the air, as if beckoning to him.

“Make me yours, Griffin.”

Hannah did not know what had driven her to this point of no return. But here she balanced oh so precariously on this precipice . . . waiting.

She was a maiden, this was true, but hardly unschooled in the ways of mating. With little else to occupy her time while her brother was about his business, Hannah had spent a goodly amount at the lending libraries studying falconry and ornithology. Which naturally had led her into the realm of animal husbandry. But she didn’t remember anything resembling this in those texts.

Clearly, the human male was an altogether different sort of beast.

One she was quite eager to learn more about. Yes, it was wicked of her, but the instinct to mate was entirely natural. She’d read it more than once and from noted authorities on the subject.

Griffin’s eyes were smoldering and hot, despite the chill of the air about them. He took her bent knees, one in each hand, and opened her legs wider for him.

Her breathing took flight, for she knew that in the next moment he would claim her.

Reaching beneath her, he clasped both sides of her rear in his hands and raised her just a bit. She felt the heat of his tip press against her, tentatively at first.

“Are you sure, my love?” His voice was breathy and low.

Why was he asking this? she wondered. Why did he wait? She knew he wanted her as much as she wished for him.

Her response was instinctual. She pressed her body down upon him, taking the plum-shaped tip of him inside her.

She gasped at the sensation, wanting more. Wanting all of him. “Yes, I am sure. I know what this means, Griffin. And I want you.”

The lids of his eyes closed, and she could have sworn he sighed upon hearing her words. Then he leaned over her and kissed her, easing his tongue into her mouth. At that moment, he filled her.

Her toes dug into the woolen coverlet, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sting of his entry. She grasped his shoulders, silently begging for a moment.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, for the twinge of losing her maidenhead was already subsiding, and her womanly muscles relaxed. Hannah brushed her fingers over his cheek and stared up at Griffin as she lifted her hips against him.

He pulled back, and just as she needlessly feared he would stop then, Griffin pressed deep into her.

She exhaled her breath and closed her eyes. There was no pain this time. Only tiny bursts of pleasure, and she knew she wanted more.

Griffin thrust into her again, and yet again. She felt dizzy and exhilarated, and lost count of how many times their bodies came together.

She did not feel the innocent. She did not feel anything but the rhythm of their lovemaking. Hannah felt her muscles contract around him each time he plunged deep into her depths.

From her own lips she heard a whimper, but not one of pain. Of pleasure. And then he moaned, and his breath flowed hotly over her mouth.

Her own breathing grew quicker and more shallow. Their bodies, where they touched, grew hot and slick with perspiration.

She was panting now, her body tightening ever more as he thrust harder and deeper into her core. Something inside of her grew taut, and she raised her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Griffin’s eyes were wide and staring down into hers. He sucked what breaths he could gather between his lips as he drove into her, never looking away. Never breaking their gaze.

All at once, she knew what it was she saw in his intent gaze. And it made her heart ache. Hot tears pricked at the back of Hannah’s eyes.

“You love me—” The words slipped softly and unbidden from her lips, and she doubted Griffin heard her.

“I do,” came his reply.

Then, all of a sudden, Hannah’s body convulsed, making her cry out.

Griffin sank deep inside her just then and moaned. He came down on top of her and held her to him, kissing her throat as he gathered her body close.

“I do love you, Hannah. I do.”

The sun was bright, and a bluebird chirped merrily from a tree branch outside the dining-room window. Hannah knew exactly how it felt, for indeed, she’d been singing herself since the moment she’d opened her eyes to the new day.

“My, my, you seem quite bright this morn.” Lady Letitia sat down at the table across from Hannah and began to fill her cup with Mrs. Penny’s fresh pot of tea. “Slept well, did you?” She glanced up at Hannah.

Actually, she hadn’t slept well at all. She’d spent nearly the full night in Griffin’s arms . . . not sleeping.

The storm had finally shed its last droplet just as the sun peeked over the foothills, providing little time for Griffin to hurriedly escort Hannah to the latticework at the back of the house, her secret stairway to her chamber window.

Yes, she ought be quite weary this morn. Instead she was elated, every fiber of her body charged with a new exhilaration.

She was in love.
Love
.

But what was most astounding was that the object of her affection was in love with her as well.

It was true, though Hannah could hardly believe it.

The dizzying feeling that seemed to course through her every vein, and made her want to dance through the streets of Bath, was altogether new to Hannah. She had never felt this way before, but that, she suspected, was because she had never known love before.

True, as a young child she’d felt affection for her parents.

She remembered being picked up and hugged by her father. It was a warm memory, and one she held in her heart even to this day. But then her father fell from his horse one afternoon and quickly succumbed to fever. She could recall sitting at her mother’s knee beside his bed past sunset and through the darkness of night. By morning, her mother was a widow with two young children to care for.

Everything seemed to change after that dark day. Hannah no longer felt affection. Her mother paid little heed to her little girl. Instead, she became more reliant on Hannah’s older brother, the new gentleman of the household. Her fondness became focused entirely on Arthur, and Hannah, well, she was all but forgotten.

It was at that point Hannah, hungry to the bone for her mother’s attention, began to insert herself into all manner of ill-advised endeavors. She’d wander off to explore the vale, often not returning until late in the night. She’d bring snakes into the house. One day, while pretending to be Shakespeare’s Ophelia, she’d accidentally destroyed her mother’s favorite opera gown by wearing it into the lake.

While these instances did garner her notice, for her mother had begun to fade into a world walled in by her own mind, it was not the sort of attention Hannah sought. For, instead of gaining her mother’s consideration, she found herself packed off to live with Arthur, and then directly to a school for headstrong young misses.

No, Hannah had not felt love in many years, and now, after last eve—a night she would treasure forever—she wondered if she had ever truly known the emotion at all.

“Dear, are you well?” Lady Viola had apparently joined Lady Letitia while Hannah was off gathering wool.

“Oh. Do forgive me, Lady Viola. I am quite well . . . I was just thinking that I might send a card to Mr. St. Albans this morn.” Hannah took a sip of her tea to conceal any schoolgirl’s grin that might appear on her lips at the mention of her paramour’s name.

“Now, this is a change.” Lady Viola flashed her sister a quick gaze. “I was under the impression that Mr. St. Albans tested your patience.”

“Not so. In truth, we have found a note of common interest—the comet. He is very knowledgeable about the subject, and has even offered to instruct me in the use of telescopes so that I might view the coming comet more closely.”

“Offered to show you his telescope, has he?” Lady Letitia asked, her thick white brows fluttering like gull’s wings.

“Oh, he already has.”

“Large, was it?” Lady Letitia snickered beneath her breath, earning her a teasing swat from her sister.

“Actually, not so large as you might imagine, but it is very powerful—” Hannah broke off, belatedly understanding her duenna’s less-than-ladylike folly. A hot blush burst onto her cheeks.

“Well, dove, I think studying the comet is a fine pastime. It’s all the crack this season,” Lady Viola told her. “Very fashionable, and I cannot think of a better tutor for you on the subject than our own Mr. St. Albans.”

Lady Viola leaned forward over her plate. “Though perhaps this afternoon might be a better time to send a card inviting Mr. St. Albans to call.”

Lady Letitia stirred a rather large pinch of sugar into her tea. “Oh, I agree entirely. Sister and I are expecting Lady Ebberly and her granddaughter shortly. The pair have only just returned from the Continent, you know.”

“Were you just speaking of Mr. St. Albans?” Mrs. Penny, their housekeeper interjected. She had just entered the dining room balancing a small salver of jam pots. “Saw him only an hour past, I did.”

“Did you?” Hannah mentally counted back the hours since dawn when Griffin had helped her climb the latticework into her bedchamber.

Two hours. Not one.
Mrs. Penny could not have observed them together. Hannah exhaled the captive breath imprisoned in her lungs.

“Oh, indeed I did. He was taking a stroll in Queen Park with your friend, Miss Hannah. The one with the lovely golden hair.” The housekeeper set the tray before Lady Viola and turned to leave.

Hannah leaped to her feet. “Er . . . my friend?” Being new to Bath, Hannah did not possess any true friends. Though she did lay claim to a number of matchmaking clients, one of those being a woman with hair like flax.