To Tempt A Rogue (23 page)

Harriet swallowed thickly. She was not proud of how she had obtained the information. Haltingly she told him the rest, including how she had arranged for a quick delivery of the missive through the stable lad's brother.

“All my careful plans destroyed with a simple letter about a doll.” He leaned back against the door and rubbed his hand over his face. “Phoebe, Jeanne Marie, and Gregory are the children of the legitimate marriage between my older brother, Robert and his wife, Bernadette. They both died earlier this year after contracting influenza. I know that Robert wanted me to raise his children, but no codicil had been added to his will.

“My claim for guardianship is being contested by my uncle and he managed to get himself appointed temporary guardian. Since he is only interested in their fortune and their power, I took the children from London, without his knowledge or consent and hid them in Scotland. For their protection.”

“Their power? What power can children possess that would interest an adult?”

His gaze became distant. “We are not a merchant family. Gregory is a duke. The eighth Duke of Claridge, to be precise.”

Harriet let out an ironic laugh. The lies went even deeper than she thought, though she had always suspected Nathaniel was not who he claimed. “I always had difficulty believing you were a wool merchant.”

“I am Nathaniel Bennet, Baron of Avery. Amazingly our paths never crossed in Society, though I knew all about you.” He executed a deep mocking bow. “I should have recognized trouble when I saw it, and had the sense to send you packing the moment you crossed this threshold, dripping with rain and filled with a spirit no typical governess would ever display. My better judgment urged me to do so, and fool that I am, I ignored my own intuition.”

Harriet froze in confusion, her face draining of all color. “You knew who I was?”

He responded with an arrogant snort. “Didn't everyone? The infamous Miss Harriet Sainthill. The talk, and scandal, of the Season.”

His mocking tone cut her sharply. She went utterly still, as a searing pain burst through her chest. Humiliation and betrayal threatened to crush her spirit, but Harriet struggled to think beyond the swirling emotions. He was angry and lashing out. And she was hardly blameless in this situation. Her rash, headstrong actions had put the children in danger and ruined Nathaniel's plans to keep his family safe.
But she had not known!

She owed him an apology. She understood the importance of family, the instinct to protect those you loved. Yet it would take her a few moments to gather her thoughts, to somehow formulate the words. Harriet stared down at her fingers, twisting her hands restlessly against the front of her robe. Finally, she was ready to speak.

But when she looked up, he was gone.

 

 

Nathaniel felt a light sweat break out on his face as he stormed down the hall. He knew he could not have stayed one moment longer in that library without saying something far more hurtful to Harriet. For a few moments, shock, anger, and utter frustration had taken control of his tongue and he had needed to strike back.

All his careful planning and cautious execution, gone in an instant. Ruined by a woman who thought she knew better than he, who was determined to see her own way in everything and damn the consequences to everyone else.

True, it was not entirely her fault. She had jumped to some fairly outrageous conclusions, and by using those as the basis of making her decisions had ruined everything. His natural children! What kind of amoral creature did she believe him to be?

But it was not her erroneous conclusions that upset Nathaniel so much. It was knowing that she had deliberately ignored his command to let the matter of the doll drop, that she had willingly disobeyed his orders. He had underestimated her will, had not realized that underneath she was such a terribly managing and stubborn female. And his lack of judgment had cost them all.

Given the circumstances, Nathaniel knew his initial explosion of anger was justified, yet when he remembered Harriet's pale face, staring so accusingly at him with those soul searching eyes, he felt sick down to the depths of his own soul. For the person he was most angry with, and disappointed in, was himself.

He believed he had been so careful, so clever, when in truth, he had made a total muddle of it all. He had placed the children's safety in jeopardy and hurt the feelings of a woman who was only guilty of caring too much and having too much character to let an injustice go unanswered.

Cursing loudly, Nathaniel entered his room and slammed the bedchamber door, wondering how in God's name he was going to fix this mess.

 

 

Once back in her chamber, Harriet was uncertain how long she sat in reflected solitude. Her body felt tired and lethargic while her mind refused to allow itself any rest, any break from the myriad recriminations that kept rolling through her thoughts.

She forced herself to climb into her bed. Her motions were automatic, as if her body were somehow detached from her mind. She lay on her back, pulled the covers to her chin and stared at the ceiling.

Her eyes stung, her chest hurt. Harriet could feel the emotions choking her throat. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to release the pain, but the tears would not come.

Frustrated, she clenched her hands into fists and punched at her pillows. The gesture only served to render her breathless. The pain did not ease at all.

Harriet realized she would never sleep until she spoke with Nathaniel, until she had a chance to explain herself and make him understand her mistake was an honest one.

Throwing off the covers, she leaped from the bed and put on her robe. Crouching low, she searched for her slippers, but could not locate them. Deciding it was not worth wasting the time, she left the room in bare feet.

The cold stone floor barely penetrated her troubled mind. She was focused completely on the meeting to come. When she arrived at the other side of the castle, Harriet could see a light shining from beneath Nathaniel's door. She hesitated, debating if she should knock, then realized it might be best not to bother in case Nathaniel refused her entry. Instead, she pushed the door open and boldly walked inside.

A low growl sounded. Harriet looked to the area near the hearth and saw a great black mass of fur rise from the floor.

“Hello, Brutus,” she said calmly.

At her friendly greeting, the hound stretched out his back legs, then came padding across the room, tail wagging. She gave him a good rub behind the ears and was rewarded with several warm, wet licks on her hand.

Nathaniel stalked to the door and held it open wider. “Out!”

Oh, no, Harriet thought in dismay, he won't even give me a chance to explain. She lifted her eyes beseechingly, then belatedly realized he was speaking to the dog.

Nathaniel repeated the command. Brutus slowly moved forward. Head down, with a sulking posture and a mournful look, Brutus left the room. As he slunk past his master, Harriet thought she heard Nathaniel mutter something under his breath. It sounded like a single word.
Traitor.

Nathaniel had removed his scarlet robe and was dressed in a shirt, cravat, waistcoat, and jacket. Faint, silver moonlight filtered through the room, adding illumination to the few lit candles. In this setting Lord Avery looked every inch the haughty, arrogant, superior aristocrat, and Harriet marveled at herself for not seeing it sooner. Or perhaps she had known, but did not want to admit it.

He was exactly the type of man she feared most, an opinionated male with a backbone of steel and a true heart. How impossibly ironic that she had fallen in love with him and, despite the deceit and the hurtful exchange of words, she loved him still.

“I would ask only that you please listen to me,” Harriet began. “I know I have made a total muck of things and I know how angry you are, but you must know that I meant no harm.

“I am rash and stubborn and once I set my mind on a course 'tis almost impossible for me to stray from it. 'Tis a failing, I know, and I promise I have learned a most valuable lesson. Never again will I be so quick to rush to judgment and action.”

Harriet instinctively reached for his hand. He allowed it, but his fingers rested cold and unresponsive in hers.

“I love the children and I acted on that love. I could not bear to see Jeanne Marie so distressed and upset, especially when I felt it was so easily within my power to alleviate her suffering.”

Harriet scanned Nathaniel's face for any sign he was listening to her, at least attempting to understand. His expression was stoic, his eyes hard, but at least he had not tossed her from the room like poor Brutus. Harriet forced herself to continue.

“I know now that I should have consulted you before writing—”

“And who knows what I would have told you? Certainly not the truth.” He frowned, then lifted her hand to his face and gently brushed his lips across her knuckles. “We share the blame equally, Harriet. My wariness and distrust and continuing uncertainty are also responsible for this mess. I was wrong to be so harsh with you earlier. My words were cruel and unforgiving, yet I humbly beg your pardon.”

Harriet drew in a breath and tried to refocus her mind. He released her hand, then he smiled at her and Harriet felt her heart begin to melt.

“It is true that I did recognize you when you first arrived at the castle,” he explained. “My first thought was that you must leave. Not because of any ludicrous scandal, but because you had the reputation of being an intelligent woman and I feared you would discover the truth.

“Later, I found myself drawn to you. Your character, your strength, your alluring female charms.” His expression grew soft, tender. “Alas, I found I could not entertain the idea of you leaving me. Ever.”

His eyes had never looked so dark. She felt as though she was drowning in their intensity. “Truly?”

“Lord, yes.” He framed her jaw, bent his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Long and lingering. Fully and completely. The pressure of his mouth against hers made Harriet feel so dizzy it was a wonder she could remain standing.

Reluctantly they drew apart. They exchanged glances, knowing this would need to wait until a few more things were settled.

“What are you going to do?” Harriet asked, taking a deep breath to steady her heartbeat. “How will you protect the children from your uncle?”

“I will take them to Edinburgh. They will be safe under Duncan's care until I can plot my next move.”

Harriet nodded, agreeing it was a sensible solution. “I'm coming with you.”

“No. Under the circumstances, I think it is best if you return to your brother's house in England.”

“I will not be left behind,” she retorted, her temper rising.

“Harriet, I do not do this to punish you. This is a messy situation. My uncle is a vicious man. Trust me, you do not wish to be involved.”

“I am already involved.”

Nathaniel dropped his head back with a vexed groan. “You are, aren't you?” He straightened his shoulders, kissed the tip of her nose, then smiled. “And I am a selfish bastard for feeling glad of it. Dearest Harriet.”

A knot of fear buried so deep inside her began to slowly unravel and flow away. He was not rejecting her, he was not about to abandon her because she was less than perfect. He accepted, and cared, and dared she hope, perhaps even loved her.

Well, there was only one way to be certain. She was going to have to call upon her much vaunted courage and expose the secrets of her own heart.

Taking a deep breath, Harriet shut the door softly behind her and deliberately turned the key. The lock clicked into place and at the sound, a shiver of sexual anticipation raced down her spine. Then, with a pounding heart and a sultry smile, Miss Harriet Sainthill turned eagerly to embrace her destiny.

She moved forward, invitingly drawing herself nearer. Nathaniel went very still and searched her eyes with his own. “Harriet.”

His voice was a warning that she appeared not to heed. She continued to walk toward him slowly, her lush form silhouetted in the firelight.

“I want this, Nathaniel. Truly.”

“But it is wrong.”

She stopped walking for an instant and tilted her head to look at him, startled, as if he was making no sense.

“It cannot be wrong when I feel down to my soul that it is right. So very right.”

“Harriet, you know my situation is tenuous. I cannot give you what you need. What you deserve.”

She gave a sultry laugh. “That is not what you have told me in the past.”

Nathaniel had the grace to blush. “That was before.”

“Before what? Before I decided I wanted you in my bed?”

“No before—” he stopped abruptly, knowing he could not yet say the words to her. Not when his future was so uncertain. Not when he could offer her nothing beyond a few pleasure-filled nights.

She sensed his confusion. “Are you not a rake, my lord?”

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why, I have often heard there are advantages to bedding a rake. Perhaps I would like to know if that is true.”

A sting of anger rose up in him. “Is that all I am to you? Convenient bedsport?”

She laughed. “What do you think?”

Bloody hell, he was acting like a lovestruck fool! This vulnerable rush of emotion was the most disconcerting feeling he had ever experienced. But he also knew it was among the most honest of emotions because it spoke to the depth of true love he felt for Harriet.

Startled at the strength of his feelings, he turned his head away. She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Is it really so awful?” she whispered.

Nathaniel's mouth thinned. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, then bent until his face was even with hers. She was gazing back at him with all the longing she seemed to feel inside. His lips were within a breath of touching hers.

She moved forward. When their lips met he knew that one kiss would never be enough to satisfy him, and that one night with her in his bed would only cause him to yearn for more.

Despite his resolve to remain detached, excitement stirred in his stomach and quickened his blood. The kiss ended as he almost savagely pulled away. Nathaniel's gaze traveled over her body. The robe and nightgown she wore could never be construed as sensuous garments, but standing so close to the firelight rendered them nearly transparent.

He could clearly see the outline of the firm, uplifted breasts that seemed made for his mouth, the long, slender legs that would perfectly wrap around his waist, the nest of dark curls so delicate and sweet at the apex of her thighs. She was curved and round and lushly inviting. Her flesh was like pure alabaster beneath the garments. Heat and vitality and passion seemed to radiate from her.

How he longed to skim his hands over that sleek, cool flesh. To touch her where she ached and wanted. Where he would make her skin flush and her loins burn. As his did.

She angled her head, rose unsteadily up on her toes and brushed her lips over his for another kiss. The rush of sensation nearly brought him to his knees. But this was wrong, wrong!

His body tensed. “Stop.”

“I cannot.” She gave him another sweet, tender kiss on the lips. “Nor do I want to.”

His answer was a groan.

Harriet's hands slid beneath the fabric of his coat, up to his shoulders, her touch as soft as silk. “May I help you remove your coat, my lord?”

Nathaniel dragged the sharp air into his lungs and slowly blew it out again. She smelled of soap and lavender and something uniquely her own. The warmth of her body and scent enveloped him as she pressed herself closer and pulled the coat over his arms.

A melting heat unfurled low in his gut and desire flooded every part of his body. The primitive drive to possess her increased, for knowing that she wanted him so intensely somehow made his own need even stronger.

“The waistcoat comes next,” she whispered, her trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons.

Her efforts were awkward, but she was determined, and soon that garment joined his coat on the floor. The realization that she was willing to give herself to him, set his brain afire. Nathaniel touched her face, tilting her chin so that their eyes would meet.

“I can make no promises,” he rasped, needing her to know the truth, even if it risked an abrupt end to this moment. He made a weak attempt to pull away from her.

“I understand. All that matters is that you want me.”

“That was never in doubt.”

She softly kissed his mouth, then brushed her lips along his jaw. When she reached his throat, she bit it playfully, then licked the spot where she had sunk her teeth.

Her kisses, the feel of her soft, round breasts pressed so tightly against his chest was such a tempting distraction. For a moment Nathaniel let himself experience the bliss. Then he dragged himself away.

“This isn't right, it isn't honorable. Being a mistress isn't good enough for you, Harriet. You deserve much more than I can give you. Marriage, respectability, a proper place in society. Perhaps someday it will be possible, but now it is not.”

She smiled, shrugged philosophically and attempted to loosen his cravat. “I'll not lie to you. All those things used to matter to me a great deal, but that is no longer the case. For me, marriage is of limited importance. I do not need that sanction of society to express my heart. I love you, Nathaniel, and this feels very right to me.”

She loved him? How was that possible? After all he had done, he hardly deserved such a precious gift. Yet deep inside he dared to hope that it could be true.

“Harriet—”

“Nathaniel.” Her bosom heaved as she took a long breath. “I will not be your mistress. I will not come to your bed in return for your money and your protection.” She gave him a long, earnest searching stare that made the hair on the back of his head rise. “I will not be your mistress. But I will be your lover. Most gladly. Most willingly.”

His cock pulsed violently. But even more amazingly, his heart filled with love. A part of him knew he had no right to accept this gift. Harriet was unique. She deserved far more than he could pledge to her at this moment in time.

As if sensing his reluctance, and his weakening resolve, she pressed herself even closer. Chest to chest. Groin to groin. He swore he could already taste the passion on her skin. Her eyes, and her body, let him know she would hold nothing back, she would give him everything. And more.

“I shall be your most willing, seductive, sensual lover. Please, don't turn me away, Nathaniel.”

Her voice was vulnerable, pleading. She stared at him with open emotion. Her flesh felt hot beneath the layers of her robe and nightgown. Nathaniel struggled to think beyond the moment, but it was impossible. Somehow tomorrow would take care of itself. Tonight he was going to satisfy the uninhibited expectation in her eyes, and love her as she deserved. With supreme intensity that would shatter every last vestige of control. Both hers and his.

His arms reached out and caught her up in a tight embrace. His hands splayed firmly over her back, pressing her to him, pulling her close. He kissed her deeply, one hand cradling her head, holding her still as he ravished her senses.

She was a tall woman, but she felt so delicate, so fragile in his embrace. Yet when she moaned enthusiastically and pressed her breasts and belly against him, Nathaniel knew she was all woman. He rolled his hips into hers, lifting her feminine mound against his hardness, deliberately tormenting her with the heat and hardness of his erection.

The need to caress her bare skin became a quest. He pulled at the tie that closed her robe, then pushed it off her shoulders. Nerveless fingers made quick work of the tiny row of buttons on her nightgown. She shuddered slightly as he tugged firmly on the neckline, easing one breast out. He shaped the weight of it in his hand.

“You are so beautiful, Harriet,” he whispered, admiring the creamy pale flesh and taut dusky pink nipples.

He heard her soft gasp of anticipation as he bent his head and then she cried out with pleasure the moment he fastened his mouth over that pert nipple. Her body surged forward, arching against him. He suckled for a long time, first tender and gentle, then rough and hungry.

He placed his hand on her thigh and rucked up her nightgown. She was deliciously bare beneath the garment and his hands told him what his eyes could not see. Her flesh was warm and delicate, smooth perfection waiting for his touch.

Nathaniel settled his hand on her taut stomach, rubbing in smooth circles. Harriet moaned, arching against his hand. She opened her mouth and kissed him as though she would consume him, moving her hips restlessly. His fingers gradually arrived where she needed them most. He touched her curls, running one finger down through them and felt her shiver. His touch was tender and light as he spread those plump inner lips searching for the tender peak hidden by the protective folds.

She flinched with pleasure and cried out as he rubbed his finger over the sensitive nub. “Quiet, my sweet.” He nipped the lobe of her ear, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. “You don't want to wake the household, do you?”

Her answer was an incoherent mumble of passion. Nathaniel smiled, delighted at her response. Now that she was slick with moisture it was easy to press his middle finger deep inside her. Using his thumb he teased and swirled at the core of her womanhood, holding her upright as she bucked and jerked. With delicate precision he pulled out, then slid in, deeper with every stroke, until her body relaxed even further, allowing him to touch the fragile barrier of her virginity.

He knew it was there. Knew that she had known no other man. Yet feeling the proof, knowing with absolute certainty that he would be the one to show her the depths of her passion unleashed something inside him voracious and feral and powerful.

Long ago she had loved another man. But that was over and now, now she loved him. And she was about to express that love in the most basic and trusting manner—by giving herself to him. Nathaniel worried briefly if he was worthy of it, yet when he looked to the feelings in his heart he knew he would guard that trust, and her love, for the rest of his life.

The need to lay claim to her, to brand her as his own slammed into him hard.
Mine! She will belong to me and to no other man!

He stroked her a few more times, entering then retreating until her appetite peaked and his male pride was shining for having brought her to such wanton delight. Deciding it was time to heighten her pleasure even more, Nathaniel abruptly pulled away.

“Why did you stop?” Her voice was breathless, almost desperate.

“For this,” he whispered mysteriously, sinking to his knees. He lifted her nightgown above her hips and pressed himself forward.

The unexpected caress made her shriek. Nathaniel smiled at her reaction. Her shock was endearing and incredibly arousing. She tried to back away from him, pushing deliberately at his shoulders, but he splayed his palm firmly across her naked buttocks and held her in place.

Nathaniel again set his lips to her curls. Harriet trembled violently, trying to shift her hips as he softly laved her delicate flesh. Determined, he continued the assault, applying the full expertise of his tongue until her hands were frantically clutching his hair and pulling him closer.

He knew it would take but a few more moments to bring her to a shuddering climax, but he wanted to wait, wanted to put himself deep within her warmth when she achieved that final bliss.

“I need you on the bed,” he muttered. Scooping her up in his arms, he deposited her in the middle of his bed, literally sweeping her off her feet.

She was delightfully tousled, her thick dark hair falling over her brow and shoulders. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her cheeks glistening and flushed in the flickering light. She looked sinful and innocent all in the same moment, with her modest nightgown gaping open and her breasts spilling forward, their tips soft and rosy.

He quickly pulled off his untied cravat, then hurled his shirt to the floor. Thankfully he had not bothered to put on his boots. Nathaniel easily tore off his breeches and small clothes. His erection sprang free, throbbing for release.

As he approached the bed, Nathaniel's nostrils filled with the perfume of female desire. He grew harder, feeling powerful and strong in the face of his own passion. He sucked in slow breaths of air, trying to will his rigid body to stay in control so he could savor every touch, every caress.

“How strange.” Harriet licked her lips in a quick, nervous motion. “I thought you would appear vulnerable in your nakedness, but instead you seem even more powerful.”

She reached for him and they touched each other with heated desperation. Her nightgown was a barrier that was quickly dispensed. She splayed her palm on his chest, and Nathaniel felt the tension coil in his spine as she bent her head and eagerly kissed his nipple.

Her hot, wet, open mouth blazed a trail of fire down his body, causing him to jerk. It was almost too much mindless pleasure to endure! He knew it was important for her to feel this sense of feminine power, to explore and experience, to feel comfortable and familiar with his body, yet it was torture that brought his pleasure to an almost uncomfortable level.

Nathaniel knew he was not strong enough to let her continue, for his control grew more brittle by the second. When her questing fingers circled his penis, he clenched his jaw. When her thumb stroked down the length and then flicked over the aching head he groaned. But when her lips slid teasingly along his swollen flesh and she took him deep in her mouth, he practically flew off the bed.

“Almighty Christ, where did you learn a trick like that?”