A Lady's Revenge (13 page)

He kissed her with exquisite care. “You’re many things, Cora deBeau, but stupid does not make the list.”

She stepped closer and placed both palms against his chest. His heart pounded in time with hers. “Idiot?”

He settled his hands on her waist. “No.”

“Clodhead?”

His lips twitched, and he pulled her into his arms. “Uh-uh.”

“Dimwit? Fuddlebrain?”

“Not even close.”

“Foolish?”

He hesitated a moment too long, which struck a humorous chord with her. “Guess I should have stopped at fuddlebrain.”

His hand stroked up the length of her back. “Now that we’ve established I’m a brutish ass and you’re a foolish woman, I want to share something with you.”

Excitement flared inside her veins. She snuggled closer. “Oh?”

“What I’m about to show you will change everything between us.”

Cora’s anxiety returned for reasons unrelated to her imprisonment. “I’m ready.” And she was.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

Trepidation and a sweet taste of anticipation clutched her heart. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

Even as she swiveled around, she realized presenting her back to him forced her into a vulnerable position, indicating a great deal of faith and a willingness to relinquish control. While she waited with trembling expectancy for the first touch of his hands, she also realized control was the last thing she wanted to retain at that moment.

He stepped up behind her and clasped her shoulders; the heat from his exertions penetrated the fine material of her silk tunic, sending chill bumps racing along the surface of her skin. He must have felt her resulting shiver, for his next words whispered across her cheek.

“Trust me.”

She swallowed. “I do.”

“Hmm.” His warm hands brushed down her arms until his fingers could interlace over hers. Then he urged her open palms toward her
pai
jamah
-covered thigh, coaxing her hands to glide against the smooth material, creating a delicious, forbidden friction. Her womb clenched against the sensation, searching, needing, grasping for something unfamiliar to her.

The scorching heat of his open-mouth kiss against the side of her neck sent a jolt of pure lust through her. She pressed her upper body against his chest, angling her head away to give him unimpeded access.

He accepted her offering, covering every inch of her bare flesh with moist, luscious kisses. His attack on her senses did not stop there. Oh, no.

If this were a skirmish, she would label his next move after the age-old war tactic of divide and conquer. With his hands still covering hers, he slid their entwined fingers beneath her tunic, caressing her stomach and skimming the underside of her left breast. The exotic feel of her own hand riding the planes of her body, studying every contour, made the area between her legs weep with excitement. She felt her nipples harden into tight nubs, flaunting their readiness.

Their clasped right hands broke off and burrowed inside the warm depths of her breeches, paralyzing her thoughts and locking her muscles. She focused on the downward descent of their hands with acute enthrallment.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Guy?”

“Have I lost your trust so quickly, Cora?” he asked in a husky, teasing voice.

Turning her head slightly to the left, she sought the heat of his words. “N-no. I just… I don’t—” she drew in a calming breath. “You startled me, is all.”

The side of his nose lay against her temple, and his mouth brushed against her flushed cheeks as he spoke. “I’m going to do much more than startle you, my sweet.”

Putting action to words, he guided her hand to the juncture between her legs. Cora braced herself against the security of his broad shoulders. She waited for the first illicit touch with the keenest anticipation. The tips of their joined middle fingers stopped short of the sensitive bud guarding her entrance. Then he moved his attention to their joined left hands, curling her fingers around her breast and positioning her thumb at the base of her nipple. Close enough to feel stimulating heat. Far enough away to feel bereft.

Divide and conquer.

She knew not where to focus her attention. Both hands teetered on the precipice of an abyss. One leap to the wrong side could either descend her into the licking flames of hell or raise her to the dazzling rays of heaven.

Even though she couldn’t be sure which awaited her over the threshold, she wanted it, needed it.
Prayed
for it. Why did he hesitate? Why did he torture her with the longings of her own body? “Guy,” she said in a breathless murmur.

“Ready?” His voice held a rough edge; his sharp breaths cooled her heated cheeks.

“Get on with it,” she said through gritted teeth. She arched her back, forcing her breast against her palm, ignoring the pinch to her side. Then she rotated her spine, trying to capture a more satisfying contact with her aching nipple.

“Patience,” he whispered on a low chuckle.

With a precision that nearly buckled her knees, he gently squeezed her nipple at the same time he plunged their long middle fingers into her slick, wet folds. Her back bowed higher and her bottom bucked against the hard ridge of his member. Their fingers pressed deeper into her center, as if anchoring her in place while a storm seethed all around them. Before long, he took over, kneading her breast and exploring her aching depths. She reached over her head and laced her fingers beneath the fall of his long hair, mooring herself in a web of sensual ecstasy.

Guy’s manipulations and her new position created a maelstrom of oversensitive nerves and tingling expectation.

And then a new feeling emerged, one still too distant to grasp, one she knew instinctively would be like no other she had ever experienced. It pulsed closer, a bright light blinding her to the outside world. It throbbed with heat, flushing her body.

She grew wetter, hotter, more unrestrained.

Though her gaze flicked from tree branch to tree branch to azure painted sky, all her concentration was trained on the kneading action of his masterful finger.
Dear
God.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, part command, part plea.

Eagerly, she turned to him. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue swept inside, scorching her already battered senses. The pulsing heat grew closer until Guy shifted his attention to her hard little nub. One flick was all it took to release the building inferno that propelled her to the heavens.

An ungovernable cry ripped from her throat, breaking their kiss. Pleasurable needles pricked along her spine and gathered in battering clusters between her legs. Guy’s hand covered her mound until the throbbing deep in her center subsided.

Uncomprehending of what just happened, Cora stood frozen for several heartbeats. And then, her arms suddenly weighed ten stone, and they dropped to her side. Limp and useless.

Guy lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his hard breaths striking her flesh in pleasurable beats. He kissed his way up to her temple while easing his hands from beneath her clothes. The gentle lapping of the lake’s water against the shore brought her to gradual awareness. Her languid body did not wish to move from the warm shelter of his arms, and Guy seemed content to hold her for as long as she would allow.

This time when she glanced around the secluded glade, everything glowed brighter, more colorful, almost cheerful. Perhaps she was projecting her own altered state on her surroundings. To think she had left the house a few hours ago, sick of the routine she had established to avoid Guy’s impossible charm, only to wind up dangling languid and satiated in the comfort of his arms. His kisses had shattered all the power behind the excuses she had devised and ineffectually hidden behind.

“I hope you’re not thinking,” he said against her ear.

She turned in his arms. “And label myself an idiot again?”

He chuckled, burrowing his nose into the curve of her neck.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly.

“You are most welcome,” he said. “But what exactly are you thanking me for?”

Heat swept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I have never… I mean that’s never happened—”

“I think I understand,” he said, interrupting her clumsy attempt at an explanation. “And you are welcome.
Very
, very welcome.” He kissed the sensitive area behind her earlobe before straightening, a rogue’s grin on his face.

His intense gaze made her feel unsure. “What?”

“I cannot recall ever enjoying a Tai Chi session more.”

She swatted his arm. “I should hope not. We were children, and there are rules against such things.”

When he laughed at her quip, his hardness came into contact with her stomach. Her eyes widened. “Guy, you didn’t—” She glanced down between them. “You’re still—”

Bending forward, he kissed her. A gentle, featherlight pressing of the lips. “So sweet.” His dark gaze dropped to her mouth. “Next time.”

Next
time.
Longing sparked at the apex of her legs where Guy’s fingers had soothed her sensual ache.

He grasped her hand and led her to a large, fallen tree. Atop the lichen-crusted trunk sat her red leather slippers. “Do you wear these so you can find them in the woods?”

She sat next to them, slanting him a cross look. “Noooo. I wear them because they make me happy.”
As
you
do
. At that moment, she wished she had worn a pretty dress rather than her
pai
jamahs
.

He knelt beside her and patted his knee, a request for her foot.

“I’m not so fragile, Guy. I can manage my own shoes.”

“I know. Now give me your foot.”

Reminiscent of his demand in the library, she knew he wouldn’t budge until she complied. “Stubborn man.” She extended her leg and couldn’t help but smile when he dusted dirt and debris from her bare soles like a father would a recalcitrant child.

“We make a good pair.”

Did they? She had always felt a connection to him. Something deeper than a mere friendship, something that had unfolded petal by fragile petal over the years.

A realization made all the more acute when her young girl’s admiration had transformed into a woman’s awakening. Her discernment of his masculine charms had gradually surfaced. She had noticed small things, like the magnificent length of his ebony eyelashes, the adorable dimple in his right cheek, and the fine hairs that peppered the backs of his hands.

She had felt awkward and guilty, especially once her focus shifted to admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the musculature of his thighs, and the beauty of his angular face. This was Guy, for goodness sake—practically her brother. Her thoughts had seemed immoral, wrong somehow, or at least that’s how she had felt at the time.

Her preoccupation with her friend grew to a degree that had kept her insides in a quivering knot any time he drew near, and her normally easy quips would lodge in her throat with just one of his teasing winks.

When she began imagining all her days spent in his company and her lifelong quest to avenge her parents’ murders began to fade, she started avoiding his company and eventually set off for France. She had hoped distance and the distraction of her mission would rid her of the unbearable longing he had stirred in her young heart.

She had hoped in vain.

During the intervening years, Cora had been able to shield her thoughts of him for long periods of time. Then she would catch a glimpse of an ebony-haired man or a whiff of spicy sandalwood that would spark her recollection, and she would wonder where he was at that moment, wonder if he missed her, thought of her,
yearned
for her.

When Cora had first spotted him in Valère’s dungeon, she knew then—even through the pain and fear—that her feelings for Guy were more than a silly girl’s infatuation. And she also realized those years in France had erased any chance of having a life with him.

She stared down at his bent head. Sunlight sheened off his black hair, creating an illusion of moonlight dancing over dark waters. Long waves cradled his massive shoulders while he guided her foot into an awaiting red slipper. Without thought, she combed her fingers through his thick strands, taming their wild disarray, and wishing—no,
longing
—for the courage to bury her nose amidst all that luxury.

He stilled, as if fearing any movement would make her stop. He worried for naught. She loved feeling the silky texture of his midnight locks against her skin. Had dreamt of running her fingers through their length for days.
Years.

He sat back on his heels and met her gaze, his internal struggle obvious. He, no doubt, wanted to give her some time to absorb the intimacy they had shared, but the demands of his body were at war with his strong mind. A situation she knew all too well.

In a near whisper, she said, “Turn around, if you please.”

His gaze sharpened, fired hot like a glowing cauldron. But he said nothing, simply maneuvered his body around until he faced the opposite direction, spine erect, senses alert.

She glanced down at the leather thong still wrapped around her middle finger. Its worn appearance was a testament to the many hours spent taming his gorgeous mane. She clamped the tie between her teeth while her hands smoothed over his hair.

“’Tis beautiful.”

He tilted his head back, his eyes closed. “Nonsense. Men don’t have beautiful hair.”

Leaning forward, she swept the tail she had created over her face, inhaling the faint scent of sandalwood mixed with the fresh country air. “You do.”

“Cora,” he warned.

She laughed, enjoying the peaceful moment but not wanting to push him further. He couldn’t be… comfortable.

Disturbed by the power he had over her senses, she made quick work of securing his hair.

When she finished, she patted his shoulders. “All done.”

He murmured something that sounded like “Not even close, sweetheart” before rising to his feet and extending his arm.

“Pardon?” she asked.

He smiled, a secret curling of the mouth that caused Cora’s heart to thrash against her chest. But all he said was, “Come. Let’s go home and see what culinary masterpiece Cook has in store for us.”