Sari Robins (14 page)

He jerked back, staring down at her.

She was panting, glaring at him, daring him to finish what he’d started.

His mouth claimed hers once more. There was no tenderness in his kiss, instead a stirring demand that she submit to their passion.

She clawed at the buttons of his coat, yanking them open and exposing the slit at the opening of his shirt. Closing her eyes, she licked the silky flesh, tasting salt and male.

He gasped. His body hardened to marble.

Suddenly his hands were everywhere, making haste with her coat and tossing aside her bonnet. His fingers raked her hair.

She groaned, wanting more. Much, much more.

Shoving her back up against the tree, he pushed his muscular thigh between her legs. The press of that hard muscle against her core caused a hunger to rise up from deep within her.

Her hands gripped his waist, tugging up his shirt
and finding the soft skin underneath. He sucked in his breath. Her hands roamed the silky flesh, teasing, gripping, caressing, and reaching down.

She touched him. He was thick and ready.

The rocket inside her burst once more, and she was overcome by the need to have him take her.

As if he was reading her thoughts, his hands wrenched at her skirts and made short work of her underclothes. She heard rips and tears but couldn’t care. Nothing mattered but removing whatever lay between them.

His hands gripped the tender flesh of her buttocks, lifting her. Her legs spread, wrapping around his waist. Pulling her arms out from under his shirt, she coiled them around his shoulders, hanging on with her thighs and arms.

Somehow he managed to undo his breeches, for suddenly his hot, throbbing member was pressed along her inner thigh.

Eagerly she shifted, opening her innermost flesh to him.

He entered her with a deep thrust.

She hissed at the size of him, feeling stretched and full and so good, her head swam.

Closing her eyes, she was lost to the ferocity of his lovemaking. He plunged more deeply inside her, again and again, carrying her back to that place…

Her cry broke through her lips, shattering the silence.

His body shuddered. She felt his release deep inside her womb.

Spent, she clung to him, knowing that she could not stand, could not move, could not think. She was overcome, shaken to the core by their passion. And by the fact that she’d just made love to a man she despised…and it had never felt so good.

H
eath’s heart was racing, his breath struggling, and his body quaking with the force of their lovemaking. He thanked heaven his legs were locked, or else he might have dropped right to the ground. When he inhaled a shaky breath, the scent of passion and lavender overwhelmed him.

She was relaxed in his arms, her head lying on his shoulder, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Her body was limp as a doll’s, and she was as soft and light as one as well. With each inhalation of breath her lush breasts pressed into his chest and he could feel her heat and how gloriously tightly she cocooned him. Even now, as spent as he was, he felt himself stirring, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he’d be ready for her again.

She was incredible, and making love to her was even more amazing than he’d imagined. And he’d imagined a lot. He’d dismissed his fantasies as innocent, but now he knew there was nothing innocent whatsoever in how he felt about Tess.

She was enchanting. Like a mesmerizing spell that made him forget all else…The thought was unsettling…but he felt too blazingly good to care.

Swallowing, Tess lifted her head. With her lids still lowered, her lush, peachy mouth slightly puckered, and her flaming hair wild around her flushed face, she was breathtaking.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze was unfocused, as if she’d been roused from a long sleep. He knew the second her mind wakened to the reality of their situation; her crystal blue gaze sharpened, then skated away from him. Gently but firmly, she laid her palms to his chest and pushed.

Silently he helped her extricate herself from his body, immediately missing her extraordinary heat.

After adjusting her clothing, she moved to sit on a thick root, not once meeting his eye.

He repaired his clothing as best as possible and moved to stand by a nearby tree. The silence between them was deafening.

The implications of his actions crashed into him with a force that left him reeling. He ran his hand through his hair, disconcerted by her effect on him. To break the silence, he attempted a jest. “You’re a witch. That has to be it. You’ve bewitched me like a wood nymph.”

He looked up, hoping she’d laugh or scoff or anything to dispel the notion that she had such power over him.

Her already flushed cheeks tinged to a deeper shade of cherry. “I didn’t ask for your touch. I didn’t ask for…any of this.”

He stiffened. “Are you saying that I forced myself upon you?”

She scowled. “Of course not. It’s just, well, I didn’t intend for this. I didn’t…I don’t want your attentions.”

He fumed. He didn’t like the effect she had on him, but to say that despite everything between them, she didn’t want him! A woman couldn’t feign
that
response. Not the heat, the wetness, the pulsing desire…He gritted his teeth, feeling his manhood stir.

“I just don’t want you,” she continued, almost as if to convince herself.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he growled, feeling angry and nettled.

“Don’t be daft. You didn’t…disappoint.” She licked her lips as if remembering the taste of him.

He resisted the impulse to pound his chest and crow. But just barely. Tess had a way of jabbing at his most basic apprehensions, like a hot poker to tender flesh. “I’m so glad I could be of service,” he scoffed, reminded once more of the divisions between them during childhood.

“Stop taking this so personally—”

“You can’t be any more personal than we just were!” Raking his hand through his hair, he wondered why he was bellowing.

“Calm down. I’m simply trying to tell you that we…” Her hand waved back and forth between them. “We are not meant to be.”

“What? Can’t have a man who doesn’t have a title?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a dolt.”

Gritting his teeth, he clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to get a rein on his anger. “You’re right. We have no future. I didn’t intend for this any more than you did.”

“If you would only stop following me—”

“Following you?” he scoffed, looking away.

“At the society, around town, at the ball, and now here in the woods. Why do you keep pursuing me?”

Reaching for his fallen hat, he ignored the lure; he wasn’t about to disclose the investigation. Not now, not ever. It was bad enough that his relationship with her was so…unusual. She was the target of his inquiry. He needed to get back on the trail. “This all started when I saw you go into the countess’s bedroom. What were you doing there, anyway?”

“Actually, this all started when you came to the society making your application. And I’m not quite convinced that you didn’t attempt to join simply to get near me.” Was it a jest or was she digging? Her face was closed and he couldn’t read her.

Scowling, he rubbed his eyes. “Don’t be funny.”

“I’m simply trying to decipher your motives. First there’s the society. You trail me about. You seem very intent on being near me. And no matter what you tell yourself, I am not doing anything to entice you. The very opposite, in fact.”

“You haven’t answered the question: What were you doing in the countess’s bedroom? You said that you weren’t meeting a lover…”

“Maybe I lied. Since I’m such a seductress…”

“So I’m one in a line of how many?”

Her cheeks reddened. “It’s been years since I’ve been with any man!”

Years. The fact made him feel like a conquering hero, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. “And your husband died, what was it?”

She looked away. “Three years ago.”

“So you think it’ll be another few years…?”

She harrumphed, but gave no answer.

He had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He didn’t want to think about what he wanted it to mean. But the idea of being with her again heated his blood and clouded his judgment, making him want to take her again. The mossy ground didn’t look that hard…

“Aren’t you engaged?” she asked, chilling his scintillating thoughts to wintry frost.

“We’re not engaged. Yet. But you’re right. I shouldn’t be out here doing…” He swallowed, feeling his arousal like a beacon on a foggy night, beckoning him once more. “What we did.”

“I daresay Miss Whilom is too well chaperoned for you to take such liberties…”

“I don’t wish to discuss her with you.” He dusted off his hat. “Unless you have another point?”

“I was just wondering what kind of woman you’re seeking in a wife.”

“Why? Are you applying for the position?”

“Heaven forbid. I’d rather cut off my own foot than marry again.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably long. There
were undercurrents here that Heath didn’t understand.

“Does Mr. Smith work with you at the solicitor-general’s office?” she asked.

The change in topic took him by surprise. He looked up. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You two seem as thick as thieves. I wonder if it’s because you conspire on projects together.”

Was it he or were her word choices unusual? “We’re always up for lending each other a hand. But no, we do not formally work together. Speaking of which, I don’t know much about your business. It’s the book trade isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Is there much money to be made in it?”

She raised a brow. “Do I ask you how much you earn in a year?”

“I’m a government employee; you can guess I don’t earn much.”

“Well I’m a private citizen and my business is just that, private.” Her eyes glittered with challenge. “And please note that I do not appreciate anyone nosing about in my affairs.”

Did she know about his inquiries? He’d been very subtle. Still…“Do you think I’m nosing about?”

“Are you?”

“No.” The lie came easily. Self-preservation, he supposed. He didn’t want to face Tess’s wrath if she knew about his role in the investigation. Then again, she was livid right before they’d just…Again, desire wrapped itself around him like a noose he’d welcome.

“And just what do you do for the solicitor-general?”

He blinked, pulling himself back to the conversation. “Whatever he wishes me to do. I give counsel on matters affecting the Crown, such as debts to the Crown or thefts from the Crown. Answer questions involving public welfare. Pursue litigation in the interests of the Crown.”

“So how is it that the solicitor-general got involved in the whole Beaumont affair?”

Heath made sure his face was impassive. “The solicitor-general can pursue certain prosecutions.”

“What kind?”

“Exceptional prosecutions. Where the matter involves a grave miscarriage of justice.”

“Or political ambition. Isn’t that what happened with the Beaumont affair?”

“What’s your point?” he ground out, suspecting that the little lady was a bit too sharp for his liking.

She shrugged. “I was just asking. It seems like you spend an inordinate amount of time
not
working these days, and I was wondering how your superior felt about this.”

A small swell of relief washed through him; she was concerned about how he spent his time. It could be about the investigation, but possibly not. They’d just made love, and she was bound to think about future dalliances, wasn’t she? He certainly couldn’t wait to find the next opportunity.

He opened his hand. “The whole Beaumont thing left us feeling a little…burned. So I’m taking a bit of a respite, and do have some free time on my hands.”

“So you like Solicitor-General Dagwood.”

She didn’t take the lure about the free time. He hid his frown. “I like Mr. Dagwood very much. Why the litany of questions?”

Those lovely shoulders lifted in a shrug once more. “I’m simply trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“You.”

“Why? Do you intend to further our relationship?” Although he made it sound like a jest, hope floated within reach.

That crystal blue gaze fixed on him, and for a moment he felt as if he were under a magnifying glass. “Perhaps.” Pushing an errant crimson curl from her face, she looked away.

He knew he shouldn’t allow this affair to go one step further, but he couldn’t help the spark of excitement within him. “So what now?”
When can we next meet?

“Perhaps we should simply pretend it never happened?”

His mouth dropped open; he was so appalled that she could disregard the greatest sex of his life. “You can do that?”

She grimaced. “No, I suppose not.”

“I’m being serious.”

She looked to the left, her brow furrowed. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It sounded like a twig breaking. Over there.” She pointed to a thick oak tree.

“You don’t have to pretend to hear something to avoid the issue,” he grumbled, irritated with her, but more so with himself for caring.

“I’m not pretending. I really thought I heard something.”

“Well, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“I swear I thought…” Tess muttered. “Well, just so you know, I don’t need to feign an excuse to avoid a question…”

From behind a nearby tree, Fiona drove her back against the scaly bark, her heart racing, her breath locked in her throat. She shouldn’t have pressed her luck and moved so close. But she’d been so fascinated, and more than a bit shocked by the whole scene.

Letting out a little breath, Fiona carefully pushed herself away from the tree and deeper into the next shadow.

As she slinked through the woods, the rest of the words were lost to Fiona, but she didn’t care. She’d seen and heard more than enough.

Fiona was thankful for the thick moss that hid her footfalls as she scurried back toward the orphanage. The cries of the birds masked her departure as well.

As she skirted the path and headed back to the main building, her mind was filled with the images of Tess and Mr. Bartlett and what they’d done. She couldn’t quite believe that her employer could be so…depraved. Or the seeming gentleman Mr. Bartlett so…barbaric. Her cheeks heated as she recalled their bawdy act in intimate detail.

She consoled herself with the fact that it was so enthralling because it was so wicked. Her fascination was a natural reaction to such an unnatural act. And there was the fact that she needed to memorize every detail. Every action. Every utterance.

For her contact would accept nothing less.