A Night to Surrender (18 page)

His hand slid down, cupping her breast. She swallowed anxiously. But he stayed calm, kneading the soft globe with tantalizing pressure and rolling the taut nipple beneath his thumb.

With a thoughtful tilt of his head, he turned his attention toward her other breast. Now he cupped them both in his hands, plumping the left, then the right . . . as though he were testing and weighing them against each other. Men were so very strange. He pinched both her nipples at the same time, and she gasped with surprise and pleasure.

She covered the noise with a nervous laugh. “Couldn’t you at least kiss me when you do that?”

“Gladly.”

His lips brushed the hollow of her throat. Again, and then again. Light, feathery kisses that tore apart her resistance, shredded any resolve. His hands roamed her curves.

“Bram . . .”

“Just kisses,” he murmured, his lips covering her racing pulse. “Just kisses. I swear, I’ll press you no further. I’ll stop the moment you say the word. Only let me kiss you, Susanna.” He trailed his tongue down her neck.

And she sighed her approval, tilting her head to aid his descent. Just kisses. What harm could a few kisses be? It was no more than they’d already done. In her desire-drugged mind, he made so much sense.

His bent his head, and his tongue made a sure, deliberate pass over her nipple. Then he drew the linen-covered peak into his mouth.

She cried out, shocked by the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Hush,” he murmured against her breast. “Just kisses. That’s all. Just kisses.”

Just kisses. Ha. Oh, certainly, these were just kisses. And the Great Pyramids of Egypt were merely little stacks of stone.

Sensation rocketed through her entire body. She’d never known anything so unbearably, exquisitely sweet. He licked and teased and pulled at her nipple, swirling his tongue in ever-widening circles until the fabric of her shift clung wet and heavy to her breast and the rosy flush of her skin showed through.

He gave her other breast the same careful attention, mouthing every curve. Pasting the linen to her aroused flesh.

“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back to look at her. With his hands he framed her bosom, pulling the wet fabric tight until the dark buds of her nipples were thrust into relief. “Sweet heaven. Like rosebuds in a drift of fresh snow. And this”—he kissed his way down her belly, sinking lower and lower—“this, Susanna, is what will bring a man to his knees.” He pressed his brow to her navel. His mouth settled in the cleft of her thighs, warm and dangerous.

“Bram,” she whispered, frantic. “Bram, please get up. This can’t be good for your injured leg.”

He made a dismissive noise.

Well, now she’d botched matters. The stubborn fool would rather dive off a cliff than admit to a little pain. He certainly wasn’t going to rise to his feet now.

He groaned a little, nuzzling her thigh. His big hand cupped her bottom. “You wanted this, remember? You said you’d bring me to my knees.”

Of course she’d wanted him on his knees. Begging, pleading. Acknowledging her power over him. And now she had him doing exactly that—but something had gone all wrong. She was the one being conquered.

“Just kisses,” he said, framing her waist in his hands and pulling the fabric of her shift taut. “Just kisses, I swear. Let me show you how good it can be. I know exactly what you need.”

He pressed his open mouth to the linen covering her cleft. His tongue darted out, stroking her straight through the fabric, circling over that small, secret place that could bring her so much pleasure. Bliss forked through her, and her knees buckled.

Her breath caught, and she clutched wildly at his shoulders. “Bram, I can’t . . .”

His hands tightened about her waist. Pausing briefly, he murmured, “I have you. You’re safe with me. I won’t let you fall.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She couldn’t make herself answer.

His husky laugh teased her in unbearable ways. “I didn’t think so.”

He applied himself with purpose now, stroking more firmly with his tongue. Waves of pleasure pushed through her, and she surrendered to them, going limp in his strong embrace. With his shoulder, he gently prodded her knee to the side, spreading her wide to his kiss. Exquisite sensation mounted higher and higher. The moist heat of his mouth mingled with the dew of her arousal. Dampness surged between her legs.

His attentions centered on that sensitive, swollen bud at the crest of her sex. He licked and stroked and nibbled until she was helpless with pleasure. The muscles in her thighs began to quiver. A whimper eased from her throat.

And the world began to constrict. The remote din of music and laughter faded. The wind ceased to blow. Everything was forgotten. Nothing existed but the two of them: his wicked, talented mouth and her intense, spiraling joy. He pushed her higher and higher, until she tumbled straight over the edge into a soul-shaking climax.

She cried out with it, rocked by waves of pleasure.

As she came back to herself, he held her tight, pressing his brow to her belly and whispering soothing words. His thumbs sketched comforting circles on the small of her back.

She sank to her knees, and he pulled her down to the ground. There they lay beneath the willow tree, their limbs tangled and knotted as tree roots. Their combined breath made a little cloud of fog—as if they had their own sky hanging over them, here in this world apart.

He flexed his strong arms, drawing her close. It wasn’t until he had her molded against his chest, surrounded by his heat, that she realized she was trembling.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her brow.

She wasn’t afraid, just . . . overwhelmed. What did this mean to him? What did it mean to her? Just kisses, she reminded herself. To him, these were just kisses. He didn’t want romantic attachments.

Don’t get any ideas
, she sternly told her heart.

“Don’t be frightened,” he told her. “You’re so passionate. So beautiful. There’s so much more I could show you. So much pleasure we could share.”

“Tell me,” she heard herself say.

She didn’t know what possessed her to play innocent. Susanna certainly understood the concept of intercourse, if not from personal experience. She knew what the books said about coitus and human reproduction, and she’d worked alongside midwives, and she heard how the scullery maids giggled and gossiped among themselves. But she wanted to hear what it meant to him. What he thought it would mean between
them
.

He took her hand and brought it to his body, cupping her palm over the bulge tenting his breeches’s fall. “Feel this?”

She nodded. How could she fail to feel it? It wasn’t precisely a negligible size.

He kept her hand pressed snug, dragging her palm over his full length. His organ throbbed and strained beneath her touch. “It’s for you, Susanna. For your pleasure.”

“Good heavens. All of it?”

He chuckled low and kissed her neck. “Yes, all of it. It’s made to fit inside you.”

Leaving his manhood in her grasp, he let his own hand drop to the hem of her shift. He gathered the light, thin fabric and eased it up to her thigh, skimming his fingers along the sensitive hollow of her knee. Then his hand delved between her legs, spreading her thighs apart. His fingers found her warm, wet intimate flesh. As he traced the contours of her sex, gently exploring and teasing her apart, a low moan pulled from her chest.

“This”—he ground his erection against her hand—“belongs here.” His finger slid inside her, giving her an exquisite sense of fullness and bliss. “It’s as simple as that.”

As simple as that.

So this was coupling, as he understood it. An uncomplicated, natural act. A mutual sating of needs and desires. They were made for this. His body
belonged
inside hers.

He pumped his finger in a slow rhythm, plunging a fraction deeper with every stroke. Though she’d just experienced a wrenching climax minutes ago, her arousal built at an astonishing pace. Soon she was arching her hips to meet his clever fingers, stroking her hand over his arousal in time with his thrusts. He kissed her thoroughly, forcing her jaw wide and delving deep with his tongue. She struggled to reciprocate, tasting and teasing him with voracious hunger. He growled his approval against her lips.

He slid his finger from her aching cleft, and she whimpered at the sudden loss. Her complaint was swiftly addressed, however, when he moved atop her, nestling between her thighs. She had to spread her legs wide to accommodate his hips—an act which drew her feminine mound snug against his hardness. He rocked against her in just the right place, and pure, bright pleasure shimmered through her veins.

He framed her face in his big hands. His gaze was dark and hungry as a wolf’s. “Do you want me, Susanna?”

She couldn’t dissemble. Her body made an answer of its own, as her hips tilted and arched, rubbing sinuously against his arousal. “Yes.”

He didn’t move. “Yes?”

Another man would have taken her at her first answer, if he’d bothered to ask at all. But he wanted to be absolutely certain she wanted this, too. If she’d harbored any lingering reluctance, his thoughtful concern dissolved it.

Yes, she wanted this. Not just
this
. She wanted
him
. Perhaps she would never marry. Perhaps she would never know true, lasting love with a man. But she wanted to explore passion and pleasure, and she wanted it to be with Bram. In all her five-and-twenty years, no man had ever made her feel this way. She might be waiting another five-and-twenty to experience this wonderful yearning again.

“Yes,” she said again.

Still, he hesitated. “We shouldn’t. Not tonight. Your first time really should be in a bed. What’s more, that bed should be a marriage bed, for a girl like you.”

“I never planned to marry at all. And as for beds . . .” She looked up at the willow branches sheltering them, and the scattered stars twinkling through. A more romantic setting couldn’t exist. “Everyone has beds. I’ll take this. So long as—” She cleared her throat. “You will be careful, won’t you? At the end. I shouldn’t want to get with child.”

“I can be careful. But you should know, there’s always a chance.”

“I know. I’m willing to take the risk, if you are.”

“To be with you?” He kissed her lips. “I’d risk a firing squad.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. “Then yes. To all of it.”

This time, he took her at her word. With one hand he impatiently pushed her shift higher, baring her abdomen and her left breast. He paused a moment, just looking.

“So beautiful.”

The words rushed over her skin on a hot, ragged breath, drawing her nipple to a tight pucker. He bent his head and suckled her, drawing the aroused peak deep into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip. As he sucked and licked, the rough fringe of his whiskers scraped over her tender skin. Her every nerve attenuated, drawing tense and thin with the mounting pleasure.

“Touch me,” he urged, between swipes of his tongue. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

Susanna had never been happier to take his direction. She reached down, yanking his shirt free of his waistband and sliding both palms beneath it, exploring the smooth, muscled planes of his back. Then she wiggled a hand between their bodies, searching for the closures of his trousers. With an eager tilt of his hips, he aided her search. She undid the buttons on one side of the flap, working her fingers inside.

Oh. My.

Her senses were overwhelmed. The heat and weight of him, filling her grip. His needy groan of encouragement, buzzing around her nipple.

She stroked gently, as much as the cramped circumstances would allow, skimming her palm along his length and marveling at the texture. Like ridged velvet over heated iron. So smooth and so strong.

This
belongs
inside me.
Her intimate muscles clenched at the thought.

“I can’t wait,” he said, abandoning her breast. “I can’t wait any longer.”

She released her grip on him as he pushed her shift higher, bunching the fabric under her arms. His erection wedged hot and eager between their bodies. He thrust against her bared sex, teasing up and down her cleft. The intense pleasure left her breathless, mindless.

“Last chance,” he said through gritted teeth, changing his angle and tilting her hips. “If you don’t want this, Susanna . . .”

The feral snarl of his lips gave her a heartbeat’s pause. He was right, this was the most vital, undeniable force in nature. Her whole body craved release, possession. The power of the moment was almost too much.

“I want this,” she managed. “I want you.”

Seventeen

“T
hen I’m yours,” Bram whispered, nudging into her heat, just an inch. Rapture chased along the surface of his skin. “Take me. Take me in.”

He worked into her slowly, in steady, deepening thrusts, putting most of his weight on his good knee and forcing himself to be patient as her body learned to accommodate his. She looked up at him with eyes so wide and unguarded, he could read her every emotion. He saw anxiety, trepidation. Understandable, as this was her first time. But there was trust as well, overwhelming her fear.

Overwhelming
him
.

With each exquisite, incremental advance, he offered words of encouragement and praise. “Yes, love . . . You feel so good . . . So good . . . Just like that . . . Just a bit more . . .”

As he sheathed himself fully with one last, unfettered thrust, she gave a pained gasp. His heart twisted in his chest. He hated to hurt her.

“Is the pain too much?”

She bit her lip bravely and shook her head no.

“Can—” Her body clenched around his, and he released a helpless groan of pleasure. “Can you bear it if I move?”

“Is moving necessary?”

He struggled valiantly not to laugh. “I think so, love. I . . . I have to move, or I’ll go mad.”

He slid out of her just a bit before plunging back in, even deeper than before. She was so warm and soft, and so damned tight. The pleasure had a keen, sweet edge. Balancing his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her flat, he worked his hips back and forth, gently. For what seemed like ages, he restrained himself to only the most easy, gliding, undemanding of motions. All the while, the need for fast, furious, pumping release clamored in his veins. He fought it back through sheer force of will. She deserved better than an animalistic humping. This was a precious gift she’d bestowed on him, and he didn’t want her to regret it. Not tonight. Not forty years from now.

“Is it better?” he asked.

“A little.”

A little.
A little wasn’t enough. With a silent curse, he lowered his body to cover hers. “I want to make this good for you.”

“It is good,” she breathed. Her hands slid over his back, and her breasts molded beneath his chest, soft and warm. “I like this. I like having you so close to me.”

“So do I.”

As he slid into her the next time, her hips canted to meet his. She gave an encouraging moan. So he did it again. And again.

“That’s . . .” She arched again, riding his thrusts like a wave. “Oh, Bram. It’s so good now.”

Holy God, it
was
. It was so damned good now. The angle, the rhythm, the way her body fit and moved with his. They’d achieved true unison of bodies and purpose, and it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He’d never known he could so completely lose himself in a woman, and at the same time, feel he’d come home.

There was a world out there, somewhere beyond these willow branches. Oceans, mountains, glaciers, dunes. Somewhere, far away, wars were being waged. Bram could not have cared less. He didn’t want to be anywhere else but inside this woman, as deep as he could go. He had no purpose, no duty in this life other than to fill her and please her and make her gasp and moan and scream.

She
was where he belonged.

He reached down to lift her leg and wrap it over his hip, and her body drew him deeper still. They kissed deeply, too. He took his time exploring her lush, generous mouth, marveling at how good it felt to claim her both ways at once. Tall as he was, with other women he couldn’t always kiss and thrust deep at the same time. But Susanna was his perfect match.

What their kisses lost in finesse, they gained in sensual urgency. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders, and the effect was that of a bee sting to a grazing bull. It drove him into a frenzy. His hips bucked as he pushed into her again and again, abandoning all gentleness, single-minded in his pursuit of her climax.

She
had
to come. She had to come
first
.

Which meant she had to come
soon
.

Please, Susanna. Please.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head rolled back. Her pale swan’s neck stretched into an elegant, erotic curve, gleaming like quicksilver in the dark. So lovely, it made his heart ache.

“God, you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

Her body tightened around his, and she cried out. He rode the exquisite wave of her climax as long as he dared. And when he knew he couldn’t last another thrust without spilling, he pulled free of her tight, clasping embrace and took himself in hand. He spent his seed all over the sweet, rounded slope of her belly—not into a fold of his shirt or her shift, as might have been the more gentlemanly manner. In some primitive way, it satisfied him to mark her.

You’re mine now
.

He lowered himself beside her, curling his body around hers and caging her with his limbs. The protective impulses swelling inside him were almost more than he could bear. They choked his speech for a moment.

“Are you well?” he asked, once he could manage words.

“Yes.” She nestled into his chest, and he tightened an arm around her, drawing her close. “Oh, Bram. I never dreamed it could be that way.”

Neither did I
, he felt like saying.
Neither did I
.

He’d had his share of tumbles, and he’d always enjoyed them thoroughly. But it had never been like this. It seemed impossible that they’d grown so close, so fast. But here they were, and he wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. He pressed a kiss to her hair and held it, inhaling deep of her sweet, fresh scent.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” he said, failing to muster any hint of regret.

“I know.” She sighed, sounding equally uncontrite. “But I’m so glad we did. It was lovely.”

“It was more than lovely. It was . . .” He grasped for another word and came up empty.

“Indescribable?” He heard the smile in her voice. “Yes. It was.”

A sudden noise made him freeze. Angry shouting, originating from somewhere a fair distance away . . . but even so, all too near.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, clutching him tight.

And then the crash of breaking glass jolted them apart.

Bram hurried to gain his feet, then extended a hand to help her do the same. Individually, they began reassembling garments without further discussion. Ignoring the noise was never an option. Whatever disturbance had occurred, it would no doubt require one—or both—of them to sort it out. Their idyllic interlude was over. Duty called.

Bram had his breeches refastened in a matter of moments. He turned to help Susanna with her gown.

“I can manage,” she said, tilting her head toward the unknown source of the commotion. “Go on ahead.”

He took her at her word, dashing out from beneath the willow’s canopy and making his way across the green.

There, in the lane between the All Things shop and the Blushing Bull, or the Rutting Pansy, or whatever it was called tonight—a small crowd had formed. The way the men bunched and jostled in a ring, Bram suspected fisticuffs had broken out.

He pushed his way to the center, eager to break up the fight before any more damage could be done, to bodies, property, or morale. Much as he’d hoped to imbue his men with a bit of red-blooded combative spirit, it wasn’t meant to be directed within the ranks.

However, he didn’t find any of his men at the center of the circle.

He found the boys. Rufus and Finn, rolling around on the ground. Scrapping but good, with fists swinging—and teeth and knees involved, too. By the looks of the scene, they’d tumbled straight through the tea shop’s front window. Shards of broken glass and bits of window leading covered the ground.

“Dodgy bastard,” one of the twins spat. A trickle of blood from his temple made it hard to tell which one.

“Shite for brains,” the other replied, reversing their positions and landing a punch to the gut. “We’re twins. If I’m a bastard, you’re one too.”

“You’re the only one what’s a lying scum.”

As they rolled, glass crunched beneath them. Time to put a stop to this, Bram decided. He reached out and plucked the topmost Bright twin—he still didn’t know which—off the other. “That’ll be enough, you two. What’s going on here?”

“Rufus started it,” one said, pointing.

“Aye, but it’s Finn’s fault,” the other shot back, dabbing the blood at his temple.

Well, at least now Bram had their identities sorted out. He turned to Rufus. “What happened?”

Rufus glared at his brother. “He lied to Miss Charlotte, he did. Danced with her twice. First, as himself. Then once again, saying he was me.”

Finn just tugged his ear and grinned. “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it.”

“I’ll pound you, you little—” Rufus lunged, but Bram held him back.

“Hold there,” he said. “Both of you.” Once he had both boys by the collar, he cast a glance at Charlotte Highwood, who looked as excited as any fourteen-year-old girl could be about having two boys fight over her attentions. She surely wasn’t going to be of any help in calming them. The crowd of onlookers appeared more amused than anything.

Bram knew he had to make it clear that boys or no, brothers or no, such fighting wouldn’t be tolerated. “Now, listen,” he said sternly, giving each boy a rough shake. “This isn’t seemly behavior for two—”

“Help! Oh, help!”

They all turned toward the frantic female voice.

The ladies clustered in the entry of the tea shop-turned-tavern. Miss Diana Highwood sat slumped in the doorway, struggling for breath. Her complexion was pale and clammy, and her fingers were curled into misshapen fists.

“It’s her asthma again,” Mrs. Highwood said, her hands fluttering. “Oh dear. Oh dear. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Miss Finch promised Spindle Cove would be her cure.”

Susanna was already there, one hand soothing the gasping woman’s shoulder. “Her tincture,” she said calmly. “Where is her tincture? She keeps it in her reticule.”

“I . . . I don’t know. It might be inside, or at the inn, or . . .” Charlotte paled. “I don’t know.”

“Search inside,” Susanna told Fosbury. “The tables, the floor, the pianoforte.” To a few of the other ladies, she said, “Go search the Highwoods’ rooms at the inn.”

Once these runners had been dispatched, she caught Rufus’s eye. “I have a spare batch in my stillroom. A blue bottle, right side of the top shelf. You and Finn run as fast as you can to Summerfield and bring it back.”

The twins nodded and dashed off down the lane.

“Let me go instead,” Bram said.

She shook her head. “They need the distraction.” Her gaze flicked to Bram’s knee. “And they’re faster.”

Right. And Bram was just a lamed, useless lump. “Shall I go for a doctor?”

“No,” she answered firmly. “She’s been subjected to enough doctors. And there’s no proper physician for miles, at any rate.”

He nodded and stepped back. Damn it. He would never shy from a battle. He’d accept any risk to his own life, if it meant saving another’s. But there was nothing he could do to help Susanna right now, and the feeling ate him raw. If he’d learned one thing in his eight months of convalescence, it was that he didn’t cope well with helplessness.

But Susanna had this entire scene under control. Turning her attention to Diana, she spoke calmly, stroking the young woman’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Just relax, dear. Remain calm, and you’ll come through this.”

“It’s here. The tincture. It’s here.” The blacksmith emerged from the tea shop, his face stark and pale. He pressed a tiny bottle into Susanna’s hand and stepped back immediately.

“Thank you.” With sure fingers, Susanna unscrewed the bottle’s top and measured a capful of dark liquid. She looked to Bram. “Will you hold her? If she trembles, the medicine might spill.”

“Of course.” Finally, something he could do. He knelt beside the gasping woman and wrapped her slender body in his arms. Her tremors shook through him.

“Don’t be afraid to hold her tight,” Susanna said. “Just keep her immobile.” She tilted Diana’s head back to rest against his shoulder, then poured the capful of tincture between her quivering, blue-tinged lips. “Swallow, dear. I know it’s difficult, but you can do it.”

Miss Highwood nodded a bit and managed a choking, harsh swallow. Then her gasping resumed.

“What now?” Bram asked, looking to Susanna.

“Now we wait.”

They waited, in tense, painful silence, listening to the sounds of Miss Highwood struggling for breath. After a few minutes, her rasping softened to a gentler wheeze, and a faint wash of pink returned to her cheeks. No matter what ribbing he might take for it later, Bram decided right there—pink was his new favorite color.

As Diana’s struggles eased, everyone watching drew a deep, grateful breath.