Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and Unrepentant\Return of the Prodigal Gilvry\A Traitor's Touch (63 page)

Even though she focused all her concentration on her task, her eyes were wont to covertly caress the manly torso, and it shocked her unduly when she found herself closely eyeing the sheets that settled softly over his loins. The torpid fullness led her mind swiftly astray to visions of his long, nude body glistening with droplets of sweat after he had made love to her in Edinburgh. The kindling warmth that swept through her in ever-strengthening surges affected her until she became a bit ambiguous about her own reserve.

Glancing at him now, the trace of an amused smile on his lips told her he was obviously much better than on the previous day, and there was a hunger in his eyes that had nothing to do with putting food in his stomach. It triggered a quickness in her heartbeat, one she strived hard to hide with a scolding.

‘If you wish me to attend you, Simon, I insist that you exercise a finer degree of self-control.'

Unmoved by her gentle chiding, he plucked at the bandage. ‘I am surprised you have a stomach for this.'

Henrietta seated herself on the edge of the bed, facing him. ‘I'm not squeamish, if that's what you think. Besides, the wound is looking much healthier.' A rueful smile brought up the corners of her lips. ‘However, I should warn you to hold yourself still, or I might be tempted to remove some portion of your hide as recompense.'

‘I am yours to command.' He spread his arms, completely surrendering himself to her ministering, and let his hand fall casually upon her knee as she leaned forward and began to snip at the bandage that criss-crossed his shoulder and chest. She paused and purposefully lifted his hand by the wrist, moving it to where it could rest harmlessly on the covers.

‘I will not stand your tomfoolery either, Simon,' she admonished.

A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. ‘You're being terribly formal, my love. Have you grown averse to me all of a sudden?'

‘I wish to change your dressing as quickly as possible and I have no wish to encourage you in your blatant disregard of my status as an unmarried woman, that is all,' she explained pertly.

‘Do you think denying what is between us will stop me from wanting you?' he asked as his eyes caressed her. ‘You know very little about me if you think mere words can quench what I feel for you. It is no simple lust that torments me, Henrietta, but a desire to have you with me every moment, to feel your softness close to me and to claim you as my own.'

Henrietta stared at him in speechless wonder. His words were but a ploy to break down the barriers she had erected between them. Still, they were effective in bringing to mind a similar awareness of her own desires. Being with him day after day had made her acutely aware of how deeply she felt about him. He was there when she closed her eyes, haunting her with his presence, and she yearned to have him hold her and kiss her without restrictions. But no matter how hard he tried to lure her into his arms, into his bed, she would not lower the barriers she had erected between them.

His gaze met hers without wavering, promising more than she, in good conscience, could accept. Her hands trembled as she focused her attention on changing his bandages. Though she worked diligently and with care, she was aware that all the prodding and pulling must be painful for him, yet he never twitched a muscle, and when she glanced at his face, there was always that odd, inscrutable gaze that seemed to probe her inner mind and an enigmatic smile playing upon his lips.

When she began wrapping the clean bandages around his muscular chest, in the next instant his hand rose and pulled her close, capturing her lips with his own. Off balance, she could not immediately withdraw and was held snared by a fevered kiss that scorched her cool-minded resolve to resist him. His mouth moved slowly over hers with a hunger that greedily sought for a like response. A rush of excitement flared through her and the need was there to answer him, but the sudden intrusion of who he was and how she had vowed never to become involved with a Jacobite—especially one who was being hunted as a traitor—made her push away with a sudden gasp. She stood up, her cheeks ablaze with shame of her own ardour.

‘Please don't do this, Simon. You take too many liberties in my uncle's house. You will destroy yourself and me and my uncle along with you if you continue to indulge in such foolery.' Her rebuke only seemed to amuse him, for his grin deepened, making her doubt that she would ever be effective in discouraging his amorous tendencies. Regaining some measure of control, she collected the soiled bandages and placed them in the bowl at the side of the bed. ‘I've finished dressing your wound. It looks healthy and improves all the time. I will go and get you something to eat and then you can settle down for the night.'

Without waiting for him to reply she left him then, a gnawing disquiet descending on her. She was disturbed by his presence, yet she could hardly order him to go. He was wounded, his wound still in need of attention. Yet she did not know how much longer she could tolerate being near him. He was a constant reminder of what she had done, what they had done together, when she had failed to hold her passions in check, carelessly forgetting the future.

Her stay with her uncle had made her more aware of how far she had strayed. She was an unmarried woman of respectable birth, and what she had done—done in a night of abandon and again on the moor—could not bear repeating.

* * *

The day finally came when Simon could get out of bed. He was weak and unsteady as he began to move slowly about. Matthew would come in the morning, carefully help him to his feet and then let him shuffle unassisted around the narrow confines of the cave. The first day the pain in his chest and back proved so fierce, he almost passed out, and would have pitched forward had Matthew not been there to grab his arm.

With each passing day his strength returned, though he tired easily and would return to bed and fall asleep, unmindful of the aches the punishing exercises had awakened in his body.

Finally he began to bathe and dress himself, a most notable triumph, he thought wryly when he was at last allowed into the house and he eased himself into the bathtub. With English patrols never far away, he never left the cave until Matthew came to tell him it was safe. Then he would slip like a shadow from his rocky home and come to the house. Now Moira did not come to the cottage, Matthew had taken the cart into Inverness for news and provisions.

As he splashed water over his body and vigorously soaped his limbs, he felt the days of being confined disappear. At that very moment, he was free of his injured body, his heavy spirits, and he was coming alive once more, shedding the lethargy that had encased his limbs since he'd been shot.

As the water began cooling, he carefully eased himself out of the tub and began drying himself with a large bath sheet. At that moment the door opened and Henrietta entered. In her arms she held a basket of linens she had hung out to dry earlier.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and the breath caught in her throat. His body was as lean as ever, his shoulders just as wide, his hips just as narrow. In all he was a splendid specimen of a man. Few men could lay claim to such an exceptional physique. She felt her own body glowing with sensual warmth as her eyes fed upon his nakedness. The sights were there for the taking and she devoured them. Raising her eyes to his face, she saw a wicked, knowing smile quirk his lips. Embarrassed to be caught looking, colour flooded her cheeks and she became flustered.

‘Oh—I forgot you were... I should have used the back door into the scullery... Pray forgive me...'

He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Perhaps I should not have been so hasty in getting out of the tub. You could have washed my back.'

‘I think you are quite capable of washing your own back.'

In painful embarrassment, turning her back on him, she crossed the room to the scullery. When she had tended him in his bed he had been weak and in no condition to render her helpless with his amorous desire, but now he was almost well and able to tend himself he was as dangerous to her sensibilities as ever and she was frightened he intended to continue his pursuit.

When she had yielded to him before, her whole being had burned with the fire that he had torched. His hands on her body, his lips on hers, his forceful persuasiveness had been her downfall. She had not been able to withstand his ardour and her pride had toppled beneath his deliberate attack on her senses. He had brought her to that moment of sweet ecstasy, knowing full well what he was doing to her, and now she would for ever hunger for that same devastating bliss.

Aware of the thoughts passing through her mind Simon went after her, reaching her in a moment. Taking the basket from her, he set it down and clasped her in his arms.

‘Please, Simon, don't do this. I cannot.'

Pulling back, he looked down at her, letting his eyes sweep the flushed cheeks and the rounded orbs of her breasts beneath the soft fabric of her bodice. ‘Then speak a lie, Henrietta, and say you want no part of me.'

Though her mouth opened, no words formed and she could only stare up at him, helplessly caught in the web of her own desires. She had already sinned both in the flesh and in the mind, and even as she felt guilt seize her, she knew she would go to him again and again, that no irritating voice in the back of her mind could stop her overwhelming need for this man.

Slowly he lowered his head and placed his lips upon hers to possess their softness leisurely and languidly. He met no resistance, and with a sighing moan her mouth opened under his and their breaths mingled.

Henrietta lost track of time in the circle of his arms. It was as if they had never been parted, as if they had always been together. His kisses were strong yet tender, and, conscious of his naked body pressed to hers, she returned them with a fervour she had forgotten she had ever possessed.

Raising his head, Simon smiled down at her and ran a fingertip down her cheek, tracing the line to her jaw. ‘I want you,' he said huskily. ‘Here. Now. I am impatient, Henrietta.'

For answer she reached up and kissed him on the lips. ‘I want you, too, Simon. But not here, not in the parlour.'

He nodded just once. ‘Upstairs. In your bed.'

Without a word, knowing she was indeed lost, Henrietta took his hand and led him to the stairs and up to her bedroom. Aware of what was about to happen, she was suddenly shy of him.

Simon sensed her nervousness and smiled. ‘Am I the only one permitted to stand here shivering, or do you mean to undress sometime soon?'

She laughed. ‘Help me.'

He stood before her and delicately began removing her clothes, his touch as gentle as any maid's. His hands lingered as he removed her dress and chemise, brushing her shoulders and hips, and as each layer of clothing was removed, she could feel her skin tingling, her breath catching as her clothes rustled to the floor. At last she was as naked as he.

His gaze swept across her, taking in every detail of her slender, petite body, and he smiled. ‘You're still as beautiful as ever. More so,' he said, raising her chin. ‘So beautiful that I ache when I look at you.'

‘Flatterer,' she murmured.

‘No. I have no need to flatter you.'

Closing her eyes, she lay back on the bed, feeling it creak and dip beneath his weight when he finally covered her.

‘Your uncle?' he asked as he nuzzled her neck.

‘He won't be back for ages,' she murmured. ‘But...' She turned her head from him, her hair fanning across the pillows.

Gently he took her chin in his strong fingers and turned her face towards him. ‘Look at me, Henrietta,' he said in a low voice. ‘What is it? Are you afraid I will hurt you?'

Slowly her eyes opened and she stared at him for a long moment.

‘Is that what it is?'

She shook her head.

‘Then what is it?' he asked as he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, following its curve to the hollow in her slender throat.

‘I—I am ashamed of what we did—before. Of what we are about to do again.' Her eyes closed once more, as if she could not look at him as she uttered these words.

‘I would not force you.'

‘I know.' She took a deep, ragged breath. ‘But—but I have thought about it, and although I have tried to fight it and failed miserably, that this might be the damning of my soul, I do not care. I want you, Simon—while you are here with me. For as long as it lasts.'

Again their mouths melded in warm communion, turning, twisting, devouring, until their needs became a greedy search for more. Passions flared and their hunger grew, mounting on soaring wings. Simon uttered hoarse, unintelligible words as he pressed fevered kisses along her throat, sending her world toppling into a chaos of sensation. The white-hot heat of his mouth on the pink peak of her breast and the licking flames that consumed her was a sudden shock that made her catch her breath. She writhed under his hands, her own caressing his body, but she was always careful not to touch his back where he'd been wounded.

His fingers, so capable, so sure of their path, traced down her flat stomach to her satiny thighs. Pleasure jabbed through her, and the heat was growing until she was sure she would burst into flames. It was so wonderful to have him here, to be with him, to be loving him, to be loved by him. Without hesitation she brushed her hands across his body, feeling the ridges, the scars obtained in battles fought. But she also felt the hardness of his muscles, the strength of his body, the power of it. She ran her hands through the hair on his chest, let them wander down across his taut belly and then up once more to grip his shoulders.

She opened beneath him, arching her back, and Simon smelled the fragrant, womanhood scent of her. With an intense moan, he thrust deep into her. Wave after wave of emotion and passion battered him and he felt her shudder beneath him. She moaned and cried out, her voice mingling with his, and tears of wonder and awe ran down her cheeks. For a while she lay quietly in his arms, her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, which matched her own. After a while he rolled onto his side and, propping himself on his elbow, gazed down at her wonderingly.