Lady of Seduction (9 page)

Their kiss deepened, wet and hot and full of raw need, and his elegant, skillful fingers slid under her garter to caress her
bare skin. His touch was rough—he had obviously been laboring at more than reading on Muirin Inish. It felt wonderful, and
the fire of need flamed even hotter inside her.

Caroline couldn’t breathe or think. She could only
feel,
and the rawness of it felt foreign and frightening—and glorious. She was free in this one perfect moment.

She tightened her thighs against his hips, and the cloth of his breeches felt abrasive on her soft, bare skin. His lips slid
from hers and along the arched line of her throat. Her head fell back as she gave herself over to him. She held on to him
tightly, twining her fingers in his hair as she
tugged it loose from its tie. It fell over her hands, binding her to him.

His tongue traced the line of her low, square neckline and dipped into the hollow between her breasts. His teeth nipped lightly
at the sensitive flesh, and then he soothed it with a sweet kiss. Her nipples ached, and a heaviness expanded low in her abdomen.
Her whole body strained for his touch, and she arched herself against him.

His fingers curled into the edge of her too-large bodice and tugged it lower, releasing one pale, small breast from its confinement.
She had always been rueful about her thin body, her small bosom, so different from the soft, plump creaminess that was so
fashionable and looked so good in stylish gowns.

But now, as Grant stared down at her in avid hunger, she forgot all of that. She felt—beautiful.

“So perfect,” he whispered. And he leaned down to capture her pouting nipple between his lips, rolling it, biting it lightly
before he drew her deep into his mouth.

Caroline cried out at the startling rush of pleasure that roared through her. She twisted her fingers into his hair again
to hold him against her. Between her spread legs, through the fabric of their clothes, she felt his penis grow even harder.
She was falling…

Then there was a sudden sound in the corridor outside, a crash as if someone dropped a tray and footsteps rushing away back
to the kitchen. Shocked, Caroline tumbled off Grant’s lap onto the cold floor.

“Mollaght,”
Grant cursed. He grabbed her arm and dragged them both to their feet. She was shaking so hard that her hands couldn’t grasp
her muslin bodice to tug it back over her breasts.

Grant did it for her, smoothing her dress into place and her tumbled hair back from her shoulders. She saw that his hands
trembled, too, and his eyes were nearly black.

“Come with me to my chamber,” he whispered urgently into her ear. “Please, Caroline. Nothing will happen that you don’t want
to, but—come with me now.”

G
rant’s bedroom was in darkness except for one candle set on the bedside table. The old, massive, dark wood furniture loomed,
and shadows flickered through the uncovered windows with their medieval panes of diamond-shaped glass.

He had led Caroline up a narrow, twisting staircase to the floor above her own room, and the tapestry-covered walls were gently
curved, so Caroline was sure they must be in a turret. Surely it was not the fatal tower, for everyone said that was merely
a shell, but this space seemed quite fearsome enough. It was like a chamber for a wizard or an alchemist, with its hulking
furniture and faint scent of burned sandalwood.

But she had no time to think about her surroundings. Grant pulled her into his arms and pressed her back against the door.
He bent his head to kiss her neck, his loose hair trailing over her skin. His mouth was open and hot, tasting her greedily
as if he was starving for her.

An answering hunger, raging and insatiable, rose up inside her. She wanted to lose herself in him—forget
everything but emotion and sensation, the way she felt when he kissed her like that. To hell with being sensible.

She pushed herself against him and tilted her hips to press against the hardness of his erection. His kiss trailed lower,
enticingly, until she cried out in longing. His tongue traced along the edge of her bodice and on the bare, soft skin of her
breast before he left her.

“Grant!” Caroline cried. She braced her head against the door and stared up at him in the shadows. His eyes glowed like dark
stars.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t know it.”

His arms slid around her and pulled her tight to his body. Her eyes closed as he kissed her temple, the edge of her cheekbone,
the corner of her mouth, as if he would consume her. Yet she wanted to be consumed until there was nothing left except the
feeling of it all.

He lightly caught her earlobe between his teeth. His breath was hot in her ear, making her gasp in a shuddering rush of response.
She grasped handfuls of his long hair and drew his lips back to hers. If he didn’t kiss her now she would surely scream!

But he seemed happy to oblige. Grant groaned and swept the tip of his tongue over her eager lips before he plunged deep inside.

Not breaking their kiss, his embrace tightened around her, and he turned her toward the waiting bed. She was barely aware
of the softness of the feather mattress and the cool linen sheets against her back. She only felt him, the weight of his lean,
hard-muscled body pressing her down onto the soft mattress.

She reached out with hands made clumsy with
desperation to push his coat off his shoulders and throw it to the floor. The thin, fine fabric of his shirt clung damply
to his chest, outlining every angle of his body. Moving from pure instinct, she slid her mouth from his to taste his neck
with her tongue. The smell of his skin made her head spin.

She touched him through his shirt, lightly scraping the edge of her thumbnail over his flat, puckered nipple.

Grant groaned and pulled back from her touch. She whimpered and reached out for him, but he evaded her. He grasped the hem
of her dress and dragged it up. In the flickering candlelight, she could see his gaze, heavy and hooded, following the line
of her leg as he bared it. The naked, white skin of her thigh above the stocking, the curve of her hip—her bare womanhood.

As he stared down at her, Caroline watched him, panting with need, trembling. She had never imagined such a moment, not in
her wildest dreams. But here they were, and at the very point of no turning back, and somehow it seemed inevitable that they
would come to this. Ever since that night in his Dublin library, they had been moving toward this one moment.

And it suddenly struck her that no one had ever seen her like this before. Hartley had done his marital duty in the dark,
under the covers, raising her gown just enough. He hadn’t seen her, and he had definitely never looked at her the way Grant
was doing now, as if he were a starving wolf and she was a banquet laid out just for him.

It made her feel powerful. Feminine. As if she was more than her sensible, scholarly self. She laughed and reached down for
the fastenings of his breeches. She wanted to see him, too. She freed his erect, heavy manhood into her hand. It was soft
and hard at the same time, velvet stretched taut
over hot iron, veined and throbbing. It tightened under her touch, and he shuddered deeply as she traced its length in fascination.
Its tip was damp.

“Caroline, you’re killing me,” Grant groaned. His body lowered onto hers, and he pressed his open mouth to the soft hollow
between her neck and shoulder. Her legs parted to cradle him against her body, and he tugged down her bodice to bare her breasts
again.

Her nipples felt heavy and aching as he rolled one of them between his fingers. He caught the other deep in his mouth.

Caroline couldn’t breathe. She held him against her and closed her eyes tightly to absorb every single feeling. His hand roughly
caressed the bare skin of her upper thigh, and his thumb searched out the wet center of her womanhood. She cried out as it
slid inside her and traced the softness with an enticing friction.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Now.”

And then she couldn’t speak at all. She spread her legs wider, and he gently reached between them to part her with his fingers
as he sought entry. Her head arched back against the bed as he slid home, their bodies joined as one.

Caroline tensed, and he went still against her. It had been a long time since she had coupled with a man, and her body had
to adjust to the sensation of fullness and pressure again, the friction of his flesh against hers. Slowly, the discomfort
faded away, and the warm pleasure built up again, hot and heavy, deep inside her.

“Did I hurt you?” Grant said hoarsely.

“No,” she whispered. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her hips to draw him deeper.

He drew back one slow, alluring inch at a time, almost
sliding out of her before plunging back inside, deeper and deeper.

Caroline cried out at the rush of pleasure, like a shower of sparkling, burning stars scattered over her skin. His movements
grew fast and desperate, deeper with every thrust. Her world grew darker at the edges, and she heard a humming in her ears,
louder, a chorus of pleasure. She definitely never felt like
this
before.

Then her climax broke over her, fragmenting like a great explosion that sent her soaring upward into the very sky.

Above her, she felt Grant’s body arch taut as a drawn bowstring, and he shouted out incoherent words. His muscles tensed under
her touch, and his head was thrown back in primitive exultation.

Then he fell to the bed beside her, their legs entangled. His breath on her bare shoulder was hot and uneven, and she found
that she couldn’t remember anything but him. She felt like she was sinking back to earth from those glittering stars. She
was weighed down with delicious, aching exhaustion.

She opened her eyes to stare up at the darkness above her, the folds of the velvet bed curtains. Grant’s breath grew slower,
as if he slid into sleep. Sleep tugged at her as well, but she couldn’t give in to it yet. Her head was whirling with mingled
pleasure and confusion.

She rolled onto her side to look at him. The candle was sputtering low, and its light flickered over his face. He looked young
and relaxed in the warm afterglow of pleasure, not the hardened recluse she had found here on Muirin Inish. His hair spilled
over one shoulder, the linen shirt ripped away to reveal his glistening skin. Had she done that? Torn away his clothes in
her passion? How very unlike her.

She reached out to smooth the jagged linen edges together. He suddenly grabbed her hand in his and kissed her palm without
opening his eyes.

“I should go back to my own room,” she whispered.

“Don’t go yet,” he answered. “I know I have no right to ask it of you, but stay with me just a little while longer.”

Caroline nodded. She laid her head on his shoulder and watched as he twined his fingers with hers and pressed her hand to
his chest.

Even as they lay there wrapped in each other’s arms, she couldn’t quite believe what she had done. Ever since the terror and
peril of the Rebellion, she had spent her life making herself and her family safe, living her life in a practical, quiet way.
Now she had thrown all that away and made love with the most dangerous man she had ever met. A man who still carried so many
secrets inside him.

She had rushed out and thrown herself into the whirlpool. She had brought the danger into her very bed, knowing the dangers
of it. What would become of her now?

She traced her free hand over Grant’s chest and remembered his touch, his kiss, the way he moved against her, as if he had
been making love to her for years and knew just what would please her. At least when she
did
meet her downfall, she would remember how truly glorious it was.

C
aroline climbed up the steep hill behind Grant. The thick mud sucked at her boots, but she would not be held back. Who knew
how long the rain would stay away—or how long Grant would stay with her?

She had been surprised to get his note on her breakfast tray that morning, inviting her to see the ruins. She wasn’t sure
what he would think or say to her after last night, which was why she had crept from his bed in the predawn darkness before
he could wake up. She didn’t want to see regret in his eyes or hear any apologies. It was too late between them for polite
words. It was too late for so many things.