The Duelist's Seduction (9 page)

Mary handed Helen a gold shawl that matched her fair hair and propelled the girl into the hall. Mary watched her go on to the dining room alone. She knew Helen was an innocent young lady, and soon her master would pluck the ripe fruit that the child was unknowingly offering, but she did not pass judgment. She had known her master since he was a babe in the cradle, and he had a kind heart and a gentle soul.

These past few years, he’d fallen from a good path. But from the moment that Helen passed through the doorway, he’d been changing. Mary was not a gambling woman, but she would wager that before all this was over, her master would do right by the girl. It was clear he was exceedingly fond of her, and she was already twining him about her finger without even realizing it. Gareth Fairfax just might be falling in love again. Perhaps there would be another wedding and another baby to fill the house. Mary let out a wistful sigh, smoothed her skirts, and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

The dining room glowed beneath the evening sun, which gilded everything in its path. The effect was like something from a fairy tale dream. Helen couldn’t believe how beautiful the light was as it illuminated the table and the feast which had been laid out before her. The abundance of food was startling. She hadn’t seen so much since…well, ever. After months of watching her finances, to see such luxury, the food too much for two people, her smile faltered.

“Surely we don’t need this much…” she briefly closed her eyes before opening them. “I didn’t speak to you this afternoon about my situation in order to provoke such lavish treatment.”

He eyed her seriously. “Nothing here is wasted, I assure you. Now, come and sit by me.”

Gareth gave her a small smile when she crossed the room. The warmth of his hands seeped into her bare skin when they brushed her shoulders as he seated her. Despite her worry about his subdued manner, she managed to eat the delicious dish of duck she’d been served. She sipped her wine, knowing that too much of it gave her dreadful headaches in the morning, but she felt the fortification of a little bit of spirits might help her relax tonight.

To her delight, the dessert served was raspberries. She speared one with her fork, but as she raised it up, she noticed Gareth watching her with heavy lidded eyes. He was lounging back in his chair, one hand lazily holding his glass of wine, the other stroking circles on the crimson tablecloth. Like a lazy lion, he seemed content to watch his prey flounder and panic, wondering how he would strike. She slowly slipped the raspberry into her mouth, swallowing hard as she forgot to chew.

“There are better ways to eat those.” His voice was smooth as velvet and dark as night. It cast a spell on her, slowly drowning her in the thick sensuality of the look that accompanied his words. The world around them seemed to darken and then fade, leaving them alone in the decadent dining room. She was all too aware his intentions had nothing to do with the proper consumption of raspberries. It was a game, and she wanted to play.

Helen slowly lowered her fork as he leaned forward in his chair to pluck a raspberry from his plate and slip it into his mouth. She watched his lips consume the berry and a swell of heat rose below her waist. She’d had those lips on her skin before and couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on other parts of her skin. She flushed with desire at the images even her innocent mind seemed to conjure. His mouth upon her breast, teeth scraping over a sensitive peak while his fingers played between her legs…

“Here let me…” he said, taking another raspberry and holding it out to her. She leaned forward, her lips parting to take the fruit from his fingers. The pads of his fingertips lingered at her mouth for a long moment before she moved back. Helen took another berry and held it out to him, eager to return the intimate gesture.

Gareth’s lips took the fruit, but he caught her hand before it could retreat. He sucked the raspberry juice from her fingertips. The feel of his tongue on her fingers drew a soft sigh of pleasure from her as her body flamed to life. He continued to hold her wrist as he sucked each of her fingers, one at time, into his mouth. The look of satisfaction and hunger mixing on his face only made her hotter. It was as though he loved the taste of the berry juices on her skin and nothing was more satisfying than licking it from her flesh.

“Come closer to me.”

Helen slid her chair over to his and he leaned into her, offering another raspberry. Only this time, as she swallowed it, he ducked his head and licked a wicked line up her neck and nibbled her ear. He leaned deeper into her, curling one arm around her waist as he embraced her. The combined sensations of swallowing sweetness and the feel of his hot tongue dancing up her throat lit a fire between her legs. A heavy, sharp ache slashed between her thighs, shooting upward. The sensation was almost painful and she couldn’t bear it another second. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, to restore some control to herself, but his grasp on her waist wouldn’t let her move. Gareth offered another berry. She took it almost greedily, and again he laved her throat, this time nipping her below her ear. A stinging shiver shot straight down her spine like she’d been struck by lightning. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms rose, and she trembled with the force of her heightened arousal. Helen couldn’t breathe. Wetness pooled between her legs, and she started to shake. If he did that again, she’d lose her mind and her body.

Gareth released her hand and stood up.

“Should we retire to the drawing room?”

Helen managed a nod and took his offered arm. There were no servants in the halls as they walked, but someone had come in and lit a fire in the fireplace. There were two chairs and a loveseat. Helen watched Gareth for a clue as to where she should sit. He sat down on the loveseat, removing his black waistcoat. His white shirt molded to his muscles as he moved. She watched, desperate to see the skin beneath the shirt and feel the muscles move beneath her palms. What would it be like to put her hands to his flesh? To touch the source of such pleasure, such erotic sin, that she could scarcely breathe or think?

Gareth caught her staring and put his hand on the empty part of the seat next to him, patting it once. His silent command was clear. Helen knew she should have chosen the nearest chair. But damn the man, she wanted to be near him, to touch him, to let him touch her. She was quite close to begging him to make love to her. The ache was stronger every minute she spent in his presence.

Helen sat down on the edge of the loveseat, her hands clinging to her shawl as though it would give her strength. As though sensing her use of the fabric as a shield, Gareth reached out to her shoulder, coiling his fingers into the silk shawl. He slowly pulled it away from her, and she felt every inch of the cloth as it slid over the bare skin of her upper back. He dropped the shawl to the floor, out of reach, and then slid a few inches closer, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“Ask me…” he breathed.

One of his hands drifted down her back while the other hand alighted upon her knee, sliding slowly up her leg. Gareth’s brown eyes were as warm as honey, yet they glinted with a dark lust that she had no power to resist.

“Ask me, Helen…” he urged. She knew what he wanted her to say.

“Please…” she whispered, not able to ask for more as she leaned in to kiss him. His fingers on her thigh slid higher as their lips met. His hand on her back pulled her closer, their knees touching. His lips caressed hers in the faintest echo of a kiss before he drew back.

“Not here… Come with me.” He pulled her off the loveseat and back into the hall.

They ascended the stairs together and Helen couldn’t help but sense the inevitability of her situation. Tonight Gareth would possess her, body and soul, and she would not resist. She had to know how deep her passion for him ran. It was a dangerous question, but one that needed an answer.

She slowed as they passed her bedchamber, but he kept walking. At the end of the hall, he opened a door to another bedroom. It had to be his. There was an expansive four-poster bed, much bigger than the one she’d slept in. The sunlight weakened as dusk came in through the gauzy white curtains outlining the large windows. Gareth locked the door and faced her.

As he came towards her, the trembling started somewhere in her chest and spread throughout her body. He took her hands, holding them for a few seconds and absorbing the trembling before guiding her hands to his waist. Tentatively, she helped him pull his shirt out from his pants and up over his head. The flex of muscles and the broad expanse of sun-kissed skin made her a little dizzy. She had never been this close to an unclothed man. She was in turn nervous and excited.

She felt better, being in control of him as he undressed. He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them before he put them on his chest. For a long moment, she let the heat of his chest warm her, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His fingers curled around her wrists, keeping her close and anchoring her to him. She grew braver, exploring the smooth masculine skin. His hands followed hers at first, as though silently guiding her, showing her where her touch pleased him the most. Every time she swept her fingers around his flat nipples, across his throat, or down the slope of his abdomen, his lashes would lower and his lips would part with a faint panting breath.

She was so consumed with stroking his chest and watching his muscles ripple that she barely noticed his hands unlacing the back of her gown until it dropped to the floor at her feet in a whisper of fabric against flesh. He tugged gently at the several layers of petticoats and lifted her out from the mass of undergarments.

She remained quiet, heart racing, as he loosened her stays and those, too, fell to her ankles. When she was down to nothing but a chemise, Gareth wrapped his hands around her waist, picked her up, and set her on the edge of the bed. His hands slid her stockings off and moved her chemise up inch by agonizing inch.

She started trembling again and found the courage to speak his name. “Gareth…”

He froze when she spoke, his bright eyes shining in the gloom. “Yes?” he whispered.

“I’m nervous…” she confessed as his hands started moving again, baring her legs completely.

“I would never harm you. How can I convince you?” He moved slowly between her legs so that he stood against the bed’s edge, their hips close but not quite touching.

“Kiss me. I forget everything else when you kiss me.”

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured, then delved deeply into her mouth with his tongue.

Her fear slowly receded in the wake of his consuming kisses. She didn’t notice that he had pushed her back and removed his breeches. His mouth never left hers. He eased himself down on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around him, molding herself to his shape. His kisses became feverous and distracting until his length started to slide into her wet, swollen flesh. Helen dug her nails into his back, the spasm of pain shocking her as something tore deep inside her. She wanted to cry, but Gareth’s kisses softened, and she relaxed. The pain lessened and finally faded. A tension replaced it, a desperate ache that she’d never felt before. He needed to move harder, faster, to ease the need.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding still above her.

She nodded jerkily. “Yes. It doesn’t hurt as much now.”

Helen moved beneath him, raising her hips, completely wanton and crazed with desire. His hands slid the chemise up and off her body, barely missing a second of her kisses. Her breasts pressed against his smooth, hard chest, and a tremulous sigh escaped her lips as he settled deeper into her body. It felt right, this union in the darkness and the rushed thrill of their hips meeting and withdrawing, the touch of limbs, and the caress of lips in forbidden places.