Ruth Langan (18 page)

Read Ruth Langan Online

Authors: Blackthorne

BOOK: Ruth Langan
3.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“And did you wish to tempt me?”
He caught the sparkle in her eye. Why, she was flirting. Shamelessly. And thoroughly enjoying herself. “Aye. Without a shred of success, I might add.”
“Perhaps you should save your charm for someone with wealth and title. Why waste it on a commoner?”
He tugged on her hair, drawing her face closer. Their lips were mere inches apart. The heat began to rise to his loins. “There is nothing common about you, Olivia.”
“Ah, but I am. Of course, Papa also used to tell me that the leaves from a common plant can be the most soothing.”
“I think nothing could soothe the burning in this heart.” He caught her hand, pressing her palm against his chest. “Feel what you do to me.”
She felt the thundering of his heartbeat. It matched her own. She looked up. “What’s to be done, then?”
“There’s no cure that I know of. But there are things we can do to slow the process.”
“Such as?”
His lips curved into a smile. “First a little more wine.”
Following his lead she lifted the glass to her lips and drank.
As she lowered the glass he surprised her by kissing the corner of her lips. The jolt was quick and potent.
He had to take a step back, before he did something he. would regret.
Unaware of the battle he was waging, she moved closer, leaning toward him. “And then?”
“Food.”
She blinked. “Food?”
“Aye.” At her look of bewilderment, he forced a smile to his lips. The trick was to keep his wits about him, at least for a little while longer. If he were to relax his guard, for even a moment, all would be lost, for the touch of her, the taste of her, did strange things to his senses. Already his hand was trembling.
He walked to the door and called, “I believe we’ll eat now, Pembroke.”
“Very good, my lord.”
When the butler entered the library, Quenton held a chair for Olivia.
Still puzzled by his behavior, she crossed to the table and accepted the seat he offered.
When they were seated the butler began serving their food.
There were tender quail, glazed with cherries and stuffed with chestnuts, served on a bed of fresh vegetables. There was hot crusty bread still warm from the ovens.
“I’ve placed the rum cake and pear tarts on the sideboard, my lord. Along with brandy.” Pembroke topped off their wine. “Will there be anything else?”
Quenton shook his head. “Nothing more. Thank you, Pembroke. I’ll summon you if I need you.”
The butler let himself out.
Olivia picked at her food, determined to follow his lead and keep the evening light. “I had a fine time today, sailing with the king.”
“Charles has always been pleasant company.”
“He is charming. I didn’t realize what close friends you are.”
“It isn’t something I like to talk about. Once it is known that he and I are close, there are those who would use my friendship for their own gain.”
“That wouldn’t occur to you, would it, Quenton? To use your friendship with the king for your own good?”
When he said nothing she went on, “The king truly loves you.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I heard the respect and love in his voice today when he spoke of you.”
“And when would that be?”
“While we were ashore.”
He remembered seeing Charles and Olivia sitting together in the sand, their heads bent close, in quiet, earnest conversation.
“He told me about your childhood here at Blackthorne, and about your stern grandfather.”
“Aye, he was a stern man. But he was fair. And he was an anchor to two frightened little boys who had been cast adrift in a stormy sea.”
“The king also told me about your loyalty while you were a privateer.”
At that Quenton arched a brow. “He told you?”
She nodded. “It doesn’t seem fair that such a thing should be kept a secret. While you were risking your life for your country, there are those who scorned you as carefree and heartless.”
With a smile, Quenton covered her hand with his. At once he realized his mistake. The mere touch of her had him wanting things he had no right to. And thinking things that would make her blush.
“Had I but known you would become my fierce defender, my lady, I would have told you myself, long ago.”
“You’re teasing me. How can you make light of this? Don’t you know that there are people who spread vicious lies and rumors about you? They believe you to be a blackhearted villain.”
“Do you think that matters to me?” Restless, needing to put some space between them, he scraped back his chair and walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames.
She followed him, placing a hand on his arm. “How can you bear to be so vilified?”
He felt the heat and closed his hand over hers, intending to remove it. Instead, his fingers curled over hers. “I care not what others say or think about me.” He turned and grasped her by the shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes. “I care only what you think.”
“I think...” She prayed for courage. As much courage as he had shown when facing a challenge. She swallowed and tried again. “I think you are the bravest, finest man I have ever known.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Then he managed a dangerous smile.
“Again, Quenton, I sense you are laughing at me.”
His smile grew. “I could never laugh at you, Olivia.” His hands moved slowly, lazily along the tops of her arms, drawing her ever closer. “It is not my noble soul I am concerned with at the moment.”
“What then?”
He lowered his head. His lips found hers, moved over them with a thoroughness that had them both gasping.
“This.” His lips covered hers again, and the jolt of passion was hot and swift. “Only this. It’s all I can think of. You are all I can think of.”
He poured all his feelings into that single kiss, lingering over her mouth as though it held him in its thrall. A kiss so hot, so hungry, it left her trembling, and begging for more.
The hands that moved over her, the lips that drove her ever higher, spoke of all the years of loneliness and desperation. It was a kiss that drained her even as it filled her.
She returned his kiss with a passion that caught them both by surprise. Boldly she wrapped her arms around his neck and offered her lips. What had been a fire deep inside erupted into a blazing inferno.
“Quenton.” She swayed and clutched blindly at his waist. “I want...” She pressed her mouth to his and murmured against his lips, “I want what you want.”
He froze.
Coming up for air, he held her a little away from him and took deep draughts of air, filling his lungs, clearing his mind.
He was staggered by the enormity of his feelings. The thought of taking her here, now, had him fighting desperately for control.
“Quenton...”
“Shhh.” He touched a finger to her lips, then withdrew it when he felt the heat. “A moment, Olivia. I need to think.”
“I don’t want to think.” She lifted her face, offering her lips. “I’ve had enough thinking. I want to feel.”
“God in heaven. Do you know what you’re saying?”
She smiled and lifted herself on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. “I’m saying I want this. I want you.”
His eyes were hot and fierce and dangerous.
He covered her mouth in a searing kiss. Against her lips he muttered, “I ought to know better. Haven’t I fought against this very thing? But God help me, I have neither the strength nor the will to resist.”
When she lifted her face for another drugging kiss he held her a little away and forced himself to breathe deeply.
“Not now, Olivia. Not yet. If I dare to kiss you one more time, we’ll never make it up the stairs.”
Chapter Fifteen
 
 
T
he door to the library was abruptly yanked open. Pembroke, chatting with the housekeeper, was startled as Lord Stamford and Miss St. John stepped into the hall.
“We’re finished, Pembroke. Mistress Thornton, you may have a servant clean up now.”
“Aye, my lord. Will there be anything else?”
“Nothing. Miss St. John and I will be retiring for the night. You two may do the same.”
“Very good, my lord.” Pembroke watched as they made their way to the stairs. Then he entered the library to bank the fire, while the housekeeper turned to the table.
“Odd,” she remarked. “They didn’t touch a bit of their food.”
“Perhaps it was cold.”
She cut off a bite of quail, tasted. “’Tis perfect.”
He crossed the room and glanced at the two plates, filled with food, just as he’d served them, the wineglasses still brimming. “Quite right. They haven’t eaten a thing.” He glanced up. “Did you happen to notice Miss St. John’s cheeks?”
“Her cheeks?”
He nodded. “Very high color. And her hair had been mussed.”
“Her hair?”
“Aye. And Lord Stamford had the look of a wild thing about him. A panther perhaps, about to pounce.”
“You think they’ve had words then? You know how quick they are to lose their tempers. Perhaps that got them into a tangle.”
He shook his head. “They may have tangled. But I’d wager it wasn’t temper.”
As the truth dawned, the housekeeper put a hand to her heart. “Oh my. Lord Stamford? And dear little Miss St. John?”
A slow smile lit Pembroke’s eyes. “They’d be evenly matched, I’d say.”
“Not a chance of it. Why, you said yourself he was like a wild thing. He’d devour her.”
“Don’t count our little governess out. She has a tart tongue and a sharp wit. There’s steel beneath that slender frame. I’m betting she can hold her own against Lord Stamford.” Pembroke glanced at the filled plates and brimming goblets. “Seems a shame to waste this fine meal. And a cozy fire.” He rounded the table, gave an uncharacteristic wink and held out a chair. “How about sharing it with me, Gwynnith?”
 
Careful to avoid touching, Quenton and Olivia climbed the stairs and moved along the dim hallway. Though they tried to appear casual, their movements were stiff, hurried.
With each step, Olivia waged a war with herself. She knew that this was what she wanted. But she had no idea just what she’d gotten herself into. Would a worldly man like Quenton be put off by her lack of experience in such matters? Worse, would he find her ignorance laughable?
When they reached the door to her chambers, she paused, thinking he would open the door and lead her inside. Instead, without a word Quenton scooped her into his arms and stormed down the hall until he reached his own door.
Once inside he nudged it closed and set her on her feet.
She felt a wave of panic. “I think...”
“Don’t think. Just feel.” He touched his mouth to hers. The merest brush of lips to lips, but they both felt the rush of heat and were staggered by it.
She knew that he was trying to be gentle, for her sake. And she loved him for it.
“You’re soft. So soft,” he murmured against her mouth.
“And you’re so strong it frightens me.”
“Don’t be afraid.” He framed her face, staring deeply into her eyes. “I’d never hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Do you know that I’d kill for you, Olivia? I’d die for you. Or beg or crawl for you. But I’d never hurt you.”
She closed her hands around his wrists. Her eyes were huge, her tone solemn. “Don’t say that. Not even at a time like this.”
“That I’d die for you? Kill for you? It’s the truth.” He lifted his hands to remove the combs from her hair. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” He watched as it tumbled in heavy dark waves around her face. “God in heaven, you’re so lovely.”
He nuzzled her lips and felt the rush of heat that nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to go slowly, to give her the time she needed. But already the needs were beginning to clutch and claw at him, and he had to struggle to hold them at bay.
He plunged his hands into the tangles and covered her mouth with his, tasting all the sweetness, the innocence. It only served to make him hungry for more. With a guttural sound deep in his throat he kissed her until she was breathless. When she tried to catch a breath, he kissed her again and again, feasting on her lips like a man who’d been starved.
She pushed a little away, dragging air into her lungs. “I was certain I’d thought all this through.”
He pressed kisses to her temple, her cheek, her ear. “And now?”
She shivered as his breath. tickled her ear. “I don’t know anymore. I can’t think when you kiss me.”
“Good. That’s part of my plan. To keep you off stride.” He plunged his tongue into her ear and heard her little moan of pleasure.
A dangerous smile curved his lips as he dragged his mouth down the smooth column of her throat. He could feel the wild rhythm of her pulse. Could taste the softness of her flesh. He filled his lungs with the fragrance of lavender as he feasted.
Her breath was ragged as her head fell back, allowing him easier access. For a moment, for just a moment, he was able to be gentle as he nibbled wet kisses down her throat and across her shoulder.
She shivered, trembled and felt her breath shudder. But just as she relaxed against him, he lowered his mouth to her breast, nibbling and suckling even as he cursed the barrier of her clothes.
This was a new sensation. One she hadn’t anticipated. Deep inside a liquid fire began to flow and ebb with hot, wet contractions.
She felt him reach for the buttons of her gown. Heard his muttered oath when he wasn’t quick enough.
She lifted eager hands to his. “Here, I’ll help....”
The fabric shredded as he tore it in his haste.
“Quenton. My new gown...”
“I’ll order you a dozen to replace it. Two dozen.” He watched as it fell to the floor, pooling at her feet.
And then his hands were on her flesh, teasing, tormenting, arousing, and his mouth, his lips, his tongue, followed.
Her skin was softer than he could have ever dreamed. Flesh so pale it gleamed like alabaster in the firelight. He felt the way she trembled at his touch and thrilled to it
His hands moved to the lace of her petticoats. With a simple tug the ribbons untied and the lace fell away to join the rest of her clothes.
She had always thought that such a moment, when a lover first glimpsed her naked body, would bring a flush of embarrassment. But when she saw the way his dark eyes gleamed in approval, she felt unbearably aroused.
“Olivia, you are so beautiful.”
“I never cared before. But now I want to be. For you, Quenton. Only for you.” With a moan she moved against him, pressing her lips to his throat.
The feel of her lips on his flesh was exquisite torture. He knew that he could take her here, now. Release was his for the asking. Release from the hard, grinding need that was building inside him. But it wasn’t mere release that he wanted. He wanted it all. To pleasure her beyond her wildest dreams. To offer her a banquet of delights. A feast of fantasies.
He took a step back, needing to see her.
“I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this. Of feeling you like this.” He lifted his hands to her small, firm breasts, his work-roughened thumbs teasing her nipples until she thought she would go mad from the pleasure. But that was just the beginning. When he bent his lips to her breast and began to nibble and suckle, she sighed and moaned before tangling her hands in his hair. Wild with need she tore at his shirt, eager to feel him the way he was feeling her.
She was surprised at her own strength when she heard the fabric tear in her hands. And then his shirt was gone and she could feel him, heated flesh to heated flesh. Heartbeat to heartbeat. His was thundering, she realized. And the knowledge that she was the cause of it made her bolder.
Caught up in the frenzy, she tugged at his breeches. With a sigh of impatience he released her long enough to kick off his boots, step out of his clothes. Then they came together in a firestorm that had them both quaking.
“Touch me, Olivia. I need you to touch me.”
Her hands skimmed his flesh, touching him the way he’d touched her. Tentatively at first, then, hearing his moan of pleasure, she grew bolder, touching him everywhere. She thrilled to the muscles of his back and shoulders, the flat planes of his stomach. It excited her to feel such incredible strength in his arms and hands. Hands that moved over her as gently as though she were made of fragile glass.
She had lost all ability to think. Now there was only this wild, primitive need that drove her. She felt the heat from the fire, but it was no match for the fire that raged inside her. Heat clogged her lungs, burned her flesh, leapt along her nerves, leaving her quivering with need. Unbearable need.
She was lost in a world of dark, delicious pleasure.
Too weak to stand, they dropped to their knees, still locked in a kiss. When his lips left hers she made a little sound of protest. But as he laid her down amid their strewed clothing and his lips began a lazy exploration of her body, she could only sigh with pleasure.
Through eyes heavy-lidded with passion she saw him. Dark hair. Dark eyes gleaming with pleasure. Sun-darkened skin, all sinew and muscle, glistening with sweat. Her dark angel.
This dark side of him both frightened and excited her. And unlocked a similar dark side of herself she’d never known.
Steeped in sensations, she felt as if she were floating above her body, watching, listening. Were those her nerves strung to the breaking point? Her sighs and whispered words that were unintelligible? Her heartbeat roaring in her temples?
Outside a night bird cried to the moon and the ocean roared as it broke over the jagged rocks at the base of the cliffs. But inside, the room was silent except for the hiss and snap of the fire. And the sighs and moans, the unintelligible words of love. The world beyond these walls no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was this man, this woman, this moment.
And then Olivia heard his ragged, muttered oath. Felt the roughness of his hands as he brought her pleasure beyond belief.
He watched her face as he drove her to the first peak. She was lovely to watch. Those wide, expressive eyes that seemed to glaze over with surprise and disbelief.
He gave her no time to recover as he took her again and again on a dizzying ride. This was how he’d wanted her. Not just soft and pliant but wild, and raging, and writhing with reckless abandon.
His woman. Only his.
He felt himself teetering on the very brink of madness. And still he held back, keeping release just out of reach. He wanted, needed, to give her more. To give her everything. To make this a night that would live forever in her mind, as he knew it would in his.
She was hot. So hot she wondered that her flesh didn’t melt, her bones dissolve. Her body was damp with sheen. Her hair wet and plastered to her cheeks and neck.
At last, when he knew he would have to take her or go mad, he skimmed his lips along her body until they found hers.
He entered her then and swallowed her little gasp. “It may hurt, but only for a moment.”
She tensed, expecting pain. Instead she felt only pleasure. Wave after wave of intense pleasure. She had thought it impossible to absorb any more. But as he began to move, she moved with him, experiencing an incredible strength she hadn’t known she possessed.
Hers, she thought as she wrapped herself around him and began to climb once more. He was hers. Only hers.
And then all thought fled as they climbed higher, and higher still, until they broke free and erupted into a blaze of firelight that shattered into a million tiny sparks.
 
 
They lay, still joined, their breathing ragged, their heartbeats thundering. Their skin was damp, slick with sheen.
Quenton levered himself on his elbows and stared down at her. There were tears in her eyes. Tears? His heart nearly stopped. He clutched her to him with such bone-crushing ferocity it left her gasping. “God in heaven. I’ve hurt you.”
“No. Oh, no, Quenton. These are happy tears.”
“Truly? You’re certain?”
She nodded. “Aye.”
He felt his heart begin to beat once more as he wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold you like this? Love you like this?”
“How long?” Even those two words were difficult with a throat so clogged with love.
“I think since that first night I saw you. You were so haughty. So afraid.”

Other books

The Becoming: Ground Zero by Jessica Meigs, Permuted Press
All About Yves by Ryan Field
D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch by Robin Wayne Bailey
First Time in Forever by Sarah Morgan
A Lady at Last by Brenda Joyce
Dark Lover by J. R. Ward
Knee Deep in the Game by Boston George
El caballero Galen by Michael Williams