The Pleasure of Your Kiss (37 page)

Ash took advantage of all that softness, all that heat, all that wetness, by unfastening his trousers and driving his rigid shaft deep into her. Clarinda shuddered and bucked, taking him even deeper without meaning to. He had tried to prepare her with his fingers, but there was no preparing her for the glorious thickness of him, the way he filled her to the brim, driving out all doubts, all fears, all regrets.

When he went completely still, she might have protested if he hadn’t done it while buried so deep within her she could feel each shuddering beat of her heart in the place where their bodies were joined.

Bracing his weight on his hands, he gazed down into her face, his savage expression betraying the cost of his control. “When Max found me, I was facing a firing squad. If I had died that day, I was going to come back and haunt you.”

“You already were,” she said softly, cupping her hand around his nape and dragging his lips back down to hers for a fierce kiss.

This time Ash didn’t kiss her so much as consume her. It was as if he could no longer be content with feasting on her mouth and body but would devour her heart as well. And in that moment she would have willingly fed it to him, along with her soul.

As he began to move within her, the proper English lady she had striven to become disappeared, leaving behind the wild child he had once adored. She dug her fingernails into the shifting muscles of his back, no longer able to lie to herself or to him. She could never belong to any other man because she had always belonged to him.

And she always would.

They were just as desperate for one another as they had been all those years ago. In so many ways it was even better now than it had been then. There was no shyness, no fear of discovery, no awkwardness, no pain. There was only the wonder of their breaths mingling with each kiss and gasp of pleasure, the dizzying joy of their hearts pounding as one, the graceful dance of their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

Clarinda wanted it to go on forever but she had waited too long, suffered through too many endless nights dreaming of this moment. When Ash would have held back to prolong her pleasure, she wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him even tighter.

“Remember what I told you during the massage?” she whispered in his ear. “That I didn’t want to be treated like a piece of porcelain? That I liked it hard and I liked it deep?”

She didn’t have to remind him again. He quickened the pace and urgency of his strokes, only too happy to oblige her. She succumbed to that irresistible rhythm until a broken wail escaped her lips, heralding an indescribable bliss that rolled through her like thunder.

As her inner muscles convulsed around him, she felt him grow even harder and thicker within her. It turned out he
had
learned a thing or two since the last time they’d been together. For at the exact moment a guttural groan escaped his lips, he withdrew from her, spilling his seed against the softness of her belly.

* * *

Clarinda lay naked in the warm cradle of Ash’s arms, listening to the wind whisper through the palms and gazing up in wonder at the shimmering swath of stars strewn across the indigo sky. “I don’t remember there ever being so many stars back in England. They look as if you could just reach up and pluck one out of the sky.”

“I suspect they were the exact same stars, just obscured by soot and fog and mist. But I can’t say for sure.” Ash drew her even closer to him, pressing a reverent kiss to the softness of her hair. “I never saw them because I never looked up. I was too busy looking at you.”

She toyed lazily with the crisp whorls of his chest hair, tilting her face up to give him a dreamy smile. “As I recall, you weren’t quite so complimentary when we were children. I seem to remember names like ‘hellacious little hoyden’ and ‘sneaky little shrew’ being bandied about more than once.”

“That’s because you were a hellacious little hoyden and a sneaky little shrew.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Did you ever once consider just telling me you liked me instead of doing all of those wicked things to me?”

She recoiled in mock horror. “Of course not! What fun would that have been? I mean, what if you hadn’t reciprocated my feelings? I would have looked like a fool. Besides, if you weren’t so pigheaded, you would have been able to see that I adored you. Everyone else knew. Even Maximillian.”

Ash blinked at her. “What did you say?”

“Max always knew I was infatuated with you. He was the one who caught me blubbering out behind the dovecote after I found out you were besotted with that silly goose girl.”

Ash scowled, clearly chalking up another mark against his brother. “He might have told me.”

“Perhaps he thought it best that you figure it out in your own time. Plus I swore him to secrecy.”

Ash snorted. “If there’s anything Max excels at, it’s keeping secrets.”

Clarinda lowered her eyes, hoping to distract him from that dangerous topic with a pretty little pout. “I was only twelve at the time and it broke my heart because the goose girl’s bosoms were so much more impressive than my own.”

Ash closed a possessive hand over one of her breasts, testing its generous heft in his palm. “Something you clearly no longer have to fear.”

She bit her lip, looking every bit as mischievous as she had at twelve. “Now that I’m not drunk on some ancient potion, I was hoping you might let me show you some of the tricks I learned in the harem.”

Ash gave her a wary look. “I’m afraid I don’t have a cucumber handy.”

“I know,” she whispered, closing her hand around him only to discover he was already fully aroused.

His hips jerked of their own volition as she lightly ran her thumb over his broad head, making his body weep a single tear of anticipation.

“Clarinda,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not the sultan. You don’t need tricks to please me. I’m perfectly happy with …”

She bent her head to him, rocking his world to its foundations with nothing more than a teasing swirl of her tongue. Then all he could do was throw back his head, grit his teeth, and tangle his hands in the silky ribbons of her hair as she proceeded to show him just what able teachers the women of Farouk’s harem had been.

When Ash woke to find Clarinda snuggled against his side, her slender arm curled trustingly around his waist, he had only one thought—
Dear God, I’ve done it again
.

The desert sky above them was already beginning to melt from pink to blue. The crisp, golden edge of the sun peeped over the feathery fronds of the palms on the far side of the oasis, giving little warning that it would soon turn the vast sweep of sand and sky into a raging inferno.

Feeling as if its flames were already licking at him, Ash disengaged himself from Clarinda’s embrace with painstaking care. He quickly drew on his trousers, boots, and shirt. He had no choice but to leave the shirt hanging halfway open since Clarinda’s eager little hands had ripped away several of the buttons in their desperate quest to bare his chest so she could devour him with her luscious lips.

Ash’s hands faltered on the front placket of his breeches as he remembered how those same lips had enfolded him with such enthusiasm and generosity. Clarinda had always been a bold and adventurous girl, but last night she had taken him on a journey beyond any he had ever experienced or even imagined. The memory made him hard all over again, tempted him to strip his breeches right back off and bury himself in her warm, sleepy body. It didn’t help to know that she would probably welcome him with open arms. And legs.

Ash raked a hand through his hair, trying not to remember how her fingers had felt doing the exact same thing. All he had done last night was prove everything his father had ever believed about him to be true. He was an unscrupulous son of a bitch. He had saved Clarinda from Farouk’s bed only to waste no time tumbling her into his own. He had betrayed his own brother without giving one thought as to what was best for Clarinda—or her future. He had sought only to satisfy his own selfish lust.

Just as he had done all those years ago.

Remembering the cost of that mistake, he turned toward the tent, determined to dump Luca out of his bedroll and demand that he escort the women the rest of the way to Max’s encampment without him. He obviously couldn’t be trusted to do what was best for Clarinda. He had to escape this place, escape
her
, even if he had to walk all the bloody way to the nearest port. He would rather face a poisonous asp, a scorpion’s deadly stinger, and a band of desert marauders than face the temptation of another night in her company.

He had barely taken two steps when a voice rang out behind him with the pristine clarity of a bell. “Going somewhere, Captain Burke?”

A
s soon as Ash turned and Clarinda saw the guarded look on his face, she knew he was leaving her. Again.

And this time he wouldn’t be coming back.

She sat up, gathering the robe they had used for a bed in front of her to shield her breasts from his gaze. She no longer wanted to be naked—or vulnerable—in front of him.

Hoping to stave off any awkward excuses he might make, she said, “I suppose it’s time to resume your role as the dashing and romantic Captain Sir Ashton Burke. After all, there are adventures to be had, damsels to be rescued … rewards to be claimed.”

Judging by the look in his eyes, her husky murmur had succeeded in reminding him just how
rewarding
last night had been for the both of them.

“I can’t expect you to understand,” he said.

Still clutching the robe in front of her, she rose, remembering yet another lesson he had taught her—it was far better to face your adversary while standing on your own two feet. “What’s to understand? The legendary Lothario sneaking out the window of his lady love and creeping through the garden at dawn with boots in hand? Why, it’s a tale as old—and trite—as time!”

Ash bent to scoop up his own discarded robe from a rock and tossed it to her. “You’d best put this on. I can’t very well return you to your fiancé looking like that.”

She let her robe drop as she caught his, deliberately standing there for a moment in the waves of sand like Venus rising from the sea in Botticelli’s famous painting, before securing the robe around her. Borrowing a gesture from Yasmin’s repertoire, she shook back her hair so that it spilled down her back in a waterfall of molten sunlight. “Like what? Like I just spent the night in his brother’s bed?”

He couldn’t deny that was exactly how she looked. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, her lips still tender from the kisses they had shared. The scrape of his beard stubble had left lightly abraded areas on her throat … and her inner thighs. She had the look of a woman who had been well satisfied by the man she loved.

“I don’t expect you to believe anything less than the worst of me at this point in our relationship,” he said, “but marrying Max is your only hope of reclaiming the social standing you enjoyed before you were abducted.”

“Who said I enjoyed it? I seem to remember suffering through dozens of stifling suppers, incredibly dull tea parties, and boring balls. My only amusement was imagining you strolling through the door at one of those functions just so I could give you the cut direct.”

“Without the protection of Max’s name, all of society will be giving you the cut direct. Think about it, Clarinda. You’ve just spent three months imprisoned in a sultan’s harem. For anyone who’s ever read
The Lustful Turk
—and I can promise you more people have read it than will ever confess to it—a harem is no different from a brothel down on Fleet Street. What do you think every man—every
gentleman
—in London is going to be thinking about every time he looks at you?”

“Probably exactly what you think about every time you look at me.”

Ash swore beneath his breath. “This time your father’s wealth won’t even be able to protect you from their censure. The men will lay wagers at their gaming clubs on which one of them will be the first to bed you, while their wives and daughters publicly shun you. You’ll never be welcomed in their homes again but will be forced to live out the rest of your life on the fringes of polite society. You’d have a better chance of restoring your good name if you threw yourself off a bridge or down a well. At least then they could murmur and sigh over the terrible tragedy of it all while secretly admiring you for choosing the most honorable means of dealing with your ‘disgrace.’”

“And just how is marrying your brother going to prevent all of this?”

“Not only is Max the heir to a dukedom but he sits on the Court of Directors of the East India Company. Some of the most powerful and influential men in all of England are indebted to him for their living. With the Earl of Dravenwood as your husband, at least their condemnation will be confined to whispers behind closed doors. And once Max becomes chairman of the Company, they won’t even dare whisper your name with anything less than respect for fear he would ruin both their reputations and their fortunes.”

“Ah! So you’re letting me go for my own good. How very noble of you!” Clarinda winked at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Poppy or the scandal sheets. I’d hate to ruin your reputation when you’re so intent upon saving mine.”

Resting his hands on his hips, Ash glared at her. “You know, you haven’t changed one whit. You’re every bit as impossible as you were when you were a girl.” Shaking his head, he turned to walk away from her.

Panic swelled in Clarinda’s heart. She had nothing left to offer him now. Nothing that might entice him to stay. He had already taken everything.

“It would probably be best if we strove to lay aside all of our past enmity before we reach the earl’s encampment,” she said. “After all, you’re going to be my brother-in-law very soon. Perhaps, in time, you’ll even learn to think of me as a sister.”

Ash’s steps slowed a fraction.

“I do hope you know our home will always be open to you. You can come visit for Christmas and Candlemas. You can stay at our town house in Mayfair during the Season, attend the christenings of our children.”