The Rogue and I (13 page)

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

“Clearly, for the first time in a long time, we are of like mind.”

He shifted on his booted feet, his dark eyes searching her face. “And what was it that you had in
mind
?”

Here it was then. The moment of no turning back. Slowly, she pulled at the long, silk belt about her waist. His gaze lowered to her working hand, hypnotized, it seemed, by her movement.

God, it was frightening and wonderful this feeling of standing on a precipice. She was either going to fly into total happiness or plunge to a very bad end. The silk came free and, without letting herself think, she shrugged free of the dressing gown. The fabric whooshed to the floor in a dramatic fall, pooling about her bare feet.

She stood before him naked, the bottle of brandy still caught in her grasp.

His chest rose and fell as he clearly drew in a sharp breath.

Nerves rattled her as the cool evening air tingled her skin. But she was not fooled. Her skin tingled under his strong and desirous gaze. Her nipples were two hard peaks, bared completely to him. She didn’t try to hide from him. Not any of her.

His fingers flexed slightly as his eyes wandered over her body. Yet, he didn’t move.

“Was I mistaken?” she murmured softly. “Was this not what you, too, had in mind?”

In two short strides he crossed to her. His hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back. His mouth came down, devouring her lips.

The touch was instantly searing. It sent shivers down to her toes and right through her soul. She wrapped an arm around him, winding her fingers into his black coat.

He took her full weight, not relenting as he plundered her mouth. Harry gasped at the power of it and his tongue flicked lightly at her lips. Eagerly she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

Between fever and heaven, he kissed her again and again, as if he might climb inside her.

Unable to take it any longer, Harry trailed her leg along his then hooked it over his hip.

He groaned into her mouth. Then he lowered his hands to her hips. With one lift, he pulled her legs up around his waist.

Completely hanging on him now, Harry caressed his shoulder, letting her fingers caress his cool, black hair. It was incredible, the feeling tearing through her. She wanted to be consumed by him until she was a burnt cinder.

He pulled back from their kiss, and looked into her eyes. There was a wildness now to his face. A need to possess. “Do you want this? You’re sure?”

In answer, she lifted the bottle of brandy up. Using her legs to grip his waist, she pulled the stopper and very slowly took a small drink of the heady liquor. She allowed it to remain in her mouth, rolling over her tongue. Then she lowered her mouth to his. The brandy melded between them, burning and lifting the kiss to an incendiary burst of hunger.

He took the bottle from her and started walking towards the wall, his other hand holding her bare hip. He placed the bottle down on a low table, then pressed her back to the brocade silk wall. “I want you now.”

Harriet reached down and unbuttoned his breeches. She reached for him, so eager to touch his velvet heat, she could barely contain herself. She had to have him, too. No waiting. They’d waited long enough.

He let out a harsh breath as her fingers wrapped around his hard length and freed him from the constraints of his breeches. She guided the tip of him to her silken core and rubbed it against her already wet heat.

“Please,” she moaned, her body already shuddering with pleasure at the feel of him nestled against her.

Garret positioned himself. Slowly, he thrust up into her.

Her eyes flared at the shock. Good God, it was as if it were her first time, her body was so tight.

He hesitated.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled, grabbing on to his shoulders.

“I won’t,” he said gently. “But I want you to enjoy this.”

Carefully, he began to rock the large head against her opening, easing his way inside her by the smallest degrees. Each small entry drove Harriet mad with wanting until finally, she dug her heels into his lower back pulling him towards her.

At last, he thrust full and deep inside her. A groan of pure satisfaction issued from her throat and she brought her mouth to his. As he thrust deep and hard, they kissed, exchanging breaths and moans. His pace quickened until her back was thudding relentlessly against the wall.

He brought his hand between them and stroked her between her thighs. She cried out as her body tensed and pulsed. Good God, she’d forgotten. The world exploded around her, under his touch.

He thrust faster and faster, unrelenting as she rippled around him. He pressed his face against her neck. His entire body tensed against her and he moaned, “Harriet,” against her skin.

Their bodies melted into each other, the only thing holding her upright, his pure strength.

It had all happened so quickly, so shockingly. Harriet let out a slow breath. Lowering her head to his shoulder, she held on tight as if any moment, he might disappear. Instead, his arms circled about her and he crossed to the bed. Gently, he lowered them to the cushioned surface, his hard length still inside her.

It was a perfect feeling, one she never wanted to let go.

He rested his body over hers, bracing his elbows on the soft bed pane. He looked down into her eyes, then whispered, “Marry me.”

Five Years Earlier

Devonshire

Chapter 14

Harriet pulled him along behind her, running through the waist high grass. How could he tell her when she was so happy? Garret forced the heavy heart away and focused on the lithe and joyful form of the girl he loved.

She glanced back at him, laughing. “Come along!”

Garret grabbed her to him and swung her up into his arms. She batted playfully at his shoulder. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Showing you who’s master,” he said in imperious tones.

“Oh, indeed?” Her face smoothed into an oh so serious look. “If you are master, than this shan’t affect you.” And horrid, little woman that she was, she tickled her fingers against his ribs.

A gasp of shock and instant laughter burst from him.

She used the moment to bound from his grip and dart toward a copse of trees. It was a small grove of weeping willows and she ran for it, her skirts high in hand, showing her cotton covered calves as she ran.

He gave her a moment to get far ahead then he ran after her. This was everything. This feeling of being truly alive, of living to the fullest and not caring what anyone in the world thought but Harriet. This was how he would live until he died.

Now, he thanked the fates that she had come into his life. No matter what his father said, he wouldn’t let that go. She glanced back, a coquettish grin on her face as she darted into the trees.

It only took him a few moments to join her, but when he entered the grove, the sight stopped him as quickly as a wall might have done.

Harriet lay on a woven blanket at the center of the grove. There was a small picnic basket and lilacs had been strewn all over the grassy floor. The scent was sheer heaven, but it was no match for the sight of her, her white gown mussed about her body as she lay, her head propped on her hand, elbow in the blanket, and her breasts pressing quickly against her corset as she gasped for breath from her run.

“What are you doing?” he asked stupidly.

“I want you to make love to me.”

“Harriet?”

“Here in this place.” She stole her gaze away from him and flung herself onto her back, stretching her arms out as if she was offering herself up to the gods of the sky. “Here where everything is perfect.”

His own chest rose and fell in fast breaths, but not from the run. Very carefully, certain he could break this moment with the wrong word, he crossed over to her and lowered himself down to the blanket. God, how he longed to pull her against him and do exactly as she had bid him do.

This was more important though. This stillness between them, an unspoken understanding of the shared beauty of the world and the feelings between them. There could be nothing more perfect.

He lay down beside her, staring up at the trees. It was breathtaking. The large, twisted old branches hovered over them as if by magic, their silvery leaves whispering and shivering in the wind. A language of old magic.

“Just think,” she said softly. “A thousand lovers might have lain beneath these trees. Their secrets will be safe forever, under these bows.”

“Thank you,” he said at last.

She rolled towards him, resting her chin against his chest. “Whatever for?”

“For bringing me here. Into your world.”

“My world?”

“Yes. I had no idea what living was until you pulled me into your mad-capped imagination.”

“My imagination is a great gift. But mother says it will be my downfall.”

“Never.” He would take glory in her mind, in the wonders she created and the small things she found magic in forever.

She smiled nervously at him, then slowly shifted herself up to rest on her knees. Her eyes tracing over his face, she lifted her arms, and pulled the soft blue ribbon from her hair and let it drop to the dark green grass.

He understood what that simple gesture meant. She was giving herself to him. Only him. And she was ready for him to take. But what she couldn’t possibly understand yet, was that he would give too. Because they both would give, the more they would have, and their love would be the most powerful thing the world had ever seen.

Despite everything. Despite their stations. And most certainly despite his father. Harriet Manning was going to be his from this day to his last.

*     *      *

T
he Present

The Trent Estate

God, what had he done?

Garret waited, silently to be condemned back to a solitary life. She was going to say no. Of course she was. But the words had slipped past his lips before his brain could filter them. Still, it was exactly what he wanted.

Wasn’t it?

He loved her. She loved him. This was how it was meant to be.

The light candle glow of the room burnished her pale skin gold and her blue eyes in the dim were almost black. She caressed the side of his face.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

“Harriet?” he whispered, horrified that he’d made her cry. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She shook her head, her long, golden hair rustling against the white pillow. “It’s just that I’m so happy. I didn’t think I could be any happier than right now.”

He smiled. “Thank God. I thought you were going to tell me I’d turned into a terrible lover.”

She batted his shoulder. “You know very well how talented you are. You do not need me to assure you of the fact.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was so odd. They’d kept each other at such a distance for so long he wasn’t sure how to be with her. They’d fought for so long, he wasn’t sure what they would be like in peace.

Wonderful. That’s what they would be.

Gently, she pushed at his shoulder, rolling them up into a seated position.

He narrowed his eyes, curious.

She tilted her head to the side, studying his shoulders, then lifted her hands and slid his black coat from his body. The black fabric dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

God she was beautiful, what with her long, soft hair flowing over her shoulders in tangled curls. Oh and he couldn’t ignore her eyes. They were soft and hot with the dreaminess of pleasure and anticipation of more pleasure to come.

She worked at his cravat, unwinding the black silk. Once she had pulled it free, she wound it around her wrist, not saying anything.

Garret sat still, letting her do whatever she wanted. It was erotic and terrifying not knowing what she was thinking. At any moment, she could tell him she’d only wanted a good romp, and that he’d have to find some other girl to marry.

Or, she might say yes.

It only took her a few moments, to work his shirt free and whip it over his head to join his coat on the floor. She lifted herself onto her knees. “Lie back, please.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Harry had always been one to charge ahead and here she was doing it again. How had he lived for all these years without that passion?

He moved back onto the bed, lying down with his head to the bedposts.

A wicked smile played at her lips as she slowly unwound his long, black cravat from her wrist. She took one of his arms and tied the black silk in a tight knot around his wrist. Then, she leaned forward, her breasts tauntingly close to his mouth and laced the black silk through the bedposts. She pulled his other arm up and tied the free end to his wrist.

“There now. Just where I want you.”

“And where exactly is that?”

Her wicked smile turned soft. She lowered her head and kissed his lips, lingering ever so gently. “Unable to escape me,” she whispered.

“Never,” he said back. But there were unspoken words between them. The fact that he had wanted to escape her. The fact that she had wished for money more than himself. The burn of regret and doubt flooded through him.

She too had stilled, hesitating.

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Yes?”

Harriet trailed her fingers over his chest then swung one leg over his waist so she could straddle him. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Then make love to me.”

“That is exactly my intention.”

She ever so slightly trailed her fingertips over his chest, tracing each contour and muscle. “I’ve dreamt of this,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I’ve dreamt of touching you. Of you touching me.”

“Sadly, I cannot oblige now,” he teased, even as he loved that she had dreamt of him. How many nights had he lain awake, sleepless for want of her fiery touch?

“Perhaps, I can assist you.” Placing her hands down on either side of him, she lowered her torso and lightly let her breasts touch his hot skin. She bit down on her lower lip as she moved upward, her hard nipples teasing him, until finally her firm swells were before his mouth.

He lifted his head from the pillow and captured a nipple in his mouth. She shuddered slightly against him, allowing him to lick and swirl his tongue over the hard peak.