To Seduce a Bride (16 page)

The powerful feeling wouldn't leave him. Lily aroused his protective instincts as well as his body, although he knew she would swallow nails before accepting any man's protection.

But someone had hurt her before this, he was certain. Perhaps that was why she was so unattainable now.

He wasn't about to let anyone hurt her again, Heath vowed. He protected what was his, and Lily was his now. Even if she hadn't accepted it yet.

Tenderness ran through him, irrevocably strong, as he watched her console her friends. He intended to discover why Lily was so self-protective, so defensive. And he was more determined than ever to succeed in winning her.

Lily thought she didn't need men, didn't need
him,
but he would show her how very mistaken she was.

Chapter Eight

Lord Claybourne most certainly does not play fair!

—Lily to Fanny

Heath stared as Lily lightly skipped down the front staircase toward him the following afternoon. She had managed to surprise him yet again, this time because her shapely form was garbed in men's breeches and boots and cambric shirt. With her hair worn long and tied back with a ribbon, she looked the complete hoyden—and she knew it, judging by her arch expression.

“Good afternoon, Heath,” she said blithely in greeting as she reached him.

Since her challenging smile dared him to object to her choice of apparel, Heath kept his response mild. “So what is the point of your unusual costume, sweeting?”

“I can hardly learn to fence dressed in skirts, can I? Breeches allow me comfort and freedom of movement. Moreover, they should make it easier for you to pretend I am a man.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Why the devil would I want to pretend you are a man?”

“So you won't treat me as a mere female and coddle me as a weakling.”

She was gravely mistaken if she thought for one instant that he could ever think of her as a man. Those breeches only called attention to the lithe, feminine curves of her hips and legs, while her shirt molded the ripe swells of her breasts.

“You are not just dressing outrageously in order to put me off?”

Her laugh was low and delighted. “I confess the thought had crossed my mind. You don't want a marchioness who wears such scandalous attire.”

Heath shook his head. Lily's scandalous attire didn't daunt him in the least. In truth, it was enjoyable, finding a woman who was more rash and rebellious in nature than he was. “You will discover that I am rather broadminded. I don't plan to dictate your wardrobe when we are wed.”

“But society would care and condemn me as a Jezebel.”

“Not necessarily. The wealthy nobility are held to different standards than most denizens of society. If you wear breeches as my marchioness, you'll more likely be termed an eccentric.”

His observation made Lily's expression turn thoughtful, and Heath pressed his point. “Furthermore, as my wife, you will enjoy much more freedom than you are permitted now as an unmarried young lady. And I can assure you, life with me would never be dull. We can hold fencing bouts every day if you wish.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Not even that delightful prospect can tempt me, my lord.”

“You are to call me Heath, remember?”

“Oh, yes, then…Heath. Are those rapiers?” she asked, indicating the long leather case he carried.

“Yes, my practice foils. The blades are kept dull and the points are buttoned with leather safety tips.”

“Good.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I would not want to skewer you accidently.”

She could still catch him off guard with her smile, Heath thought, arrested by the dazzling sight. Indeed, her sparkle and vibrancy impacted him like no woman he had ever met.

Yet Lily seemed completely unaware of her uncommon charms. “Come,” she said, “the makeshift salon is this way.”

He followed her from the entrance hall toward the rear of the house, admiring the gentle sway of her derriere. The parlor she led him to was a fairly large room. The floor had been cleared to practice dance steps, the chairs and tables all pushed against the walls, the carpet rolled up to expose a shining wood surface.

“Will this suffice for my lesson?” Lily asked.

“It will do very well.”

Shutting the door behind him, Heath quietly turned the key in the lock. This was a rare opportunity to be alone with Lily, and he wanted no interruptions.

He intended to give her a much more potent lesson than mere fencing, though. For all her passionate nature, she was sexually innocent and badly needed awakening. Teaching her about physical pleasure, he surmised, would soften her defenses and make her more willing to wed him.

Smiling to himself in anticipation, Heath set his rapier case down on a table, then casually removed his coat and waistcoat and cravat.

“So where do we begin?” Lily wondered aloud as he opened the case.

“With the basics. Stance and handwork first. Then the fundamentals of movement and hitting. And finally simple attacks and defense. In some future lesson, we'll cover tactics and strategy for beating your opponent, but for today we will keep it elementary.”

Withdrawing a long, slim foil, he let her examine the button that kept the sharp steel point from becoming deadly. Then he showed her the proper position for her body—right arm extended, foil raised, left arm bent upward. Next he demonstrated the basic elements—thrust and parry, feint, riposte, recovery, counter-parry, lunge—and had her practice each technique.

Heath enjoyed that he was able to touch her frequently, and admired the fact that Lily caught on quickly because of her agility and natural athleticism.

Lastly, he stood opposite her and taught her how to advance and retreat.

“Fencing is not unlike our game,” Heath commented as they slowly moved back and forth across the floor. “You engage and disengage and try to score a hit while keeping up your own defense.”

“I can see that,” Lily replied a little breathlessly. “Your skill is amazing,” she declared a while later when he allowed her to rest.

“A little more practice and you will be ready to take me on.”

She laughed outright. “It will take me a lifetime of practice to ever be a good enough match for you.”

Heath couldn't agree with her. Lily was easily a match for him already. Not with foils, of course. But her zest for living, her spontaneity, her endearing high spirits, delighted him down to his soul.

It was remarkable, the bond he felt with her after such a short acquaintance. Marcus's younger sister Eleanor was the only other woman who'd ever engendered such sentiment in him. And in truth, Lily acted toward him much the way Eleanor did, as if he were her older brother, her demeanor friendly and platonic.

Heath intended to change that very shortly, but he relished the feeling, in large part because it reminded him so much of his closest friends. He had distant relatives still living, but no immediate family, yet he thought of Marcus and Drew as his brothers. He cherished the bond he'd shared with them over the years. The joys and sorrows, the camaraderie, the friendship.

He would greatly miss that closeness now that they had each found brides. But seeing their happiness made him wonder what he could have with Lily.

If she were his wife, he would be able to spar with her regularly, to laugh with her, to tease her and provoke her and challenge her as he was doing now. And he could have her in his bed. It was highly pleasurable to imagine awakening with her beside him every morning, making love to her slowly and thoroughly….

He wanted to take her right now, Heath thought, gazing down into her laughing eyes. She was so utterly desirable, he wanted to bury his hands in her lustrous hair and back her against the wall and make a delectable feast of her.

But he would not allow himself. He didn't want a hurried affair; he wanted Lily for his wife. More crucially, a careless seduction would surely wound her, no matter how it might assuage the stinging needs of his body. And then there was her reputation to consider. Lily had lived under a cloud of scandal for years, and he wouldn't make it worse for her.

No, he intended to leave her a virgin until she was his bride. But that didn't mean he couldn't use passion to persuade her to accept his hand in marriage. He wanted more than her surrender, however. He wanted her to know the blissful pleasure that could exist between a man and a woman….

Heath didn't realize he had gone still until Lily looked up at him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. But it is time for your next lesson.”

“What lesson?” she asked, her expression suddenly a bit wary.

Not replying at once, Heath stepped toward her and took her foil from her, then set both rapiers down on a side table. When he returned to stand before her, the need to have his arms filled with her was almost overwhelming.

“I mean to teach you about arousal,” he said as he drew Lily against him.

Her breath catching audibly, she raised her hands to push against his shoulders, but Heath refused to release her.

“Have I mentioned that seeing you in those breeches makes my imagination run riot? I'm afraid it has had the opposite effect than the one you intended.”

“What effect has it had?” she demanded, her voice nervous and uneven.

“You have aroused me quite painfully,” he said, his gaze locking with hers.

“I most certainly don't mean to.”

“And you can't deny that I arouse you.”

Lily's mouth opened as if to do just that, but then she closed it again. “Of course you arouse me. You are a renowned lover who can seduce anything in skirts. But my response doesn't mean a thing. It is purely an involuntary physical reaction.”

“You dismiss physical pleasure readily enough when you know little about it.”

His hands moving to her waist, Heath held her flush against him, enjoying the fine tremor of her body. “You are a woman of great passion, Lily. Too passionate to live the rest of your life as a spinster. Too warm-blooded and intense. And I mean to prove it to you.”

Her chin lifted stubbornly. “I think passion is highly overrated.”

“I know you do. But you won't after today.”

Lowering his hands to her hips, he slipped one knee between hers, parting her legs. With a soft gasp, Lily tried to pull back, but his tightening grip pressed her abdomen into his loins.

The contact sent a surge of desire rocketing through Heath, purely masculine, primal and urgent, yet he clamped down fiercely on his own urges. This moment was for Lily, not for him.

Deliberately rubbing his thigh against her woman's mound, he lifted her slightly to make her slide against him. Her breathy inhalation turned to a moan just before he bent his head and captured her lips.

Lily went rigid at his bold assault, but Heath went on teasing, coaxing, playing, exploring…showing her that he found her mouth incomparably special.

After a long moment's hesitation, he was rewarded when she began to respond ardently, as if she couldn't help herself. The riveting sweetness took him off guard and made exultation rip through him. She kissed with an enthusiasm and hunger that set his blood soaring, her mouth willing and wild, almost abandoned.

Heath let himself get swept away by her eagerness, feeling the effects of the kiss as if it were his first. He himself was breathless by the time he forcibly drew back.

Lily stared at him, looking dazed and beautiful, her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. The sight made him want her with a kind of primitive ferocity he'd never experienced before. But he forced himself to go slowly.

Pulling her with him, he backed toward the chairs lining the wall and sat in one. Then he eased Lily down to straddle his knee.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't protest when he opened his shirt to bare his chest, or when he caught her wrists and placed her palms against his warm flesh.

But when his hands began revolving in lazy, widening circles over her shoulders and along her arms, she finally murmured his name. “Heath…”

“What, love?”

“You have to stop this.”

“What an amusing notion. We have barely begun.”

His gaze dropping to her breasts, he parted the front of her cambric shirt. She wore a linen camisole beneath, and her nipples were blatantly outlined beneath the fine fabric.

Tugging down the edge of the undergarment, he freed the lovely mounds to his perusal. Then slowly Heath ran his hands upward till his fingertips barely brushed the uprise of her breasts. The rose-hued buds were ruched and taut, begging for his attention, yet he ignored them, instead tracing the silken ivory skin surrounding them.

Lily quivered, muscles tensing, and when he cupped her fullness, cradling the weight in his palms, she drew a shuddering breath.

Her heated softness was a sensual delight. Wanting to learn her by touch, he began gently kneading, molding. He relished the feel of her, the enchanting contrast of feminine firmness and softness—both her ripe breasts and her thighs nestling the harder flesh of his leg.

Her breathing was shallow by the time he circled the peaks with his thumbs. Her nipples were highly sensitized, he suspected, lifting his fingers to lightly stroke. He lingered on the engorged crests, introducing her to sensation, then plucked at the straining buds, caressing, teasing.

Lily inhaled sharply, while her deepening flush told him he was successfully arousing her. And that was before he bent to lick one nipple with his tongue. It was hard and tight, and he prodded it to even stiffer erection with slow erotic circles, laving with tender care.

“I have dreamed about doing this for weeks,” he murmured, finally moving his mouth to her other nipple. “Tasting you, suckling you…”