Two Sinful Secrets (18 page)

“The ladies shall hide, and the gentlemen seek,” Danilov declared.

“Ah, isn’t that how it always is?” another man said ruefully.

Sophia scrambled to her feet with the other ladies, all of them giggling as they gathered
at the edge of the clearing. She gathered up her hem as Danilov began counting. “And—now!”
he shouted, and there was a burst of chaos as the women dashed away and scattered
in all directions down the hill and into the clusters of trees. For an instant, Sophia
spun around, disoriented and unsure where to go, then she remembered the abandoned-looking
hut she had seen when they arrived. She lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could
down the hill, sliding a bit on the grass.

The shrieks and laughter of the others faded behind her as she kept running, gasping
for breath in her tight bodice. She turned at the base of the hill and dashed to the
gates. The hut loomed just beyond in the shade of a windmill, silent and dark.

She ducked through the door and let it squeak closed behind her on its rusted hinges.
Suddenly she was wrapped in a blanket of silence and dusty darkness. The only light
was the chalky-yellow rays of sun through the cracks in the old wooden walls, illuminating
old cabinets lining one wall and broken crockery littering the corners. Her shoes
skidded on the cracked floor, and she could
smell old woodsmoke and the heat from the day outside, as well as the pungent odor
of gin. It seemed someone still used the hut for something, if only for drinking.

The quiet after all the wine and laughter made her feel dizzy. She found a small space
behind one of the cabinets and slipped between it and the wall to wait out the game.
Her foot nudged a pile of old blankets, and she leaned back against it as she closed
her eyes and let the silence wrap around her. But even there, in that solitude, she
saw Dominic. She thought about the way she had tried not to watch him during the picnic,
the way she would peek at him only to find
him
watching
her
, that unreadable intensity in his eyes.

The soft squeak of the door opening made her eyes fly open. Holding her breath, she
peeked around the cabinet. For an instant, she saw a man’s tall figure silhouetted
against the light outside. Then he stepped inside, and the door shut behind him.

“I know you’re here,” he called quietly, too quietly for her to recognize his voice.
She could only tell he was English. “I can smell your perfume.”

Suddenly, Sophia had a sharp memory of Lord Hammond, how he followed her, stalked
her. How he made her feel trapped, as if she couldn’t breathe. She knew it was foolish,
that Lord Hammond couldn’t be at their party, yet still that choking fear remained.
She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out and tried to make herself
breathe. She could hear the man moving around the small room, steadily, stealthily.
Any moment he would find her.

The darkness around her was disorienting, making those memories rush over her even
more. Even stronger.
She ducked out from behind the cabinet and dashed for the door.

Suddenly hard, muscled arms closed around her waist like iron bands, and she was caught.
For a second, the panic that had been growing within her broke free, cold and paralyzing.
She twisted in the man’s arms and kicked back at his legs, wishing she wore something
sturdier than her kid shoes.

The man grunted when her foot connected with his shin, and his arms closed even harder
around her. Then she smelled him, that scent of expensive, lemony cologne and clean
linen that she remembered from when he lay in her bed. It was Dominic who had caught
her, not some nightmare stranger. The warm relief that washed away her panic made
her laugh, at herself and her old fears, at the strange tension the drinking and the
game had created. Memories of Dominic overcame the old memories of Baden-Baden, stronger
and brighter.

But no less frightening.

He drew her back tighter against his chest, until she felt the softness of his fine
wool coat slide against her body through the thin muslin of her gown. His lips touched
the side of her neck, open and hot, trailing slowly over her skin until her eyes closed,
and she sighed at the heated rush of pleasure.

“Damn it all, Dominic, you scared me,” she gasped.

She felt him smile against her, just before he bit down lightly on the soft curve
of her shoulder. “Cursing, Lady Sophia? So unladylike. Shocking.”

Sophia slapped at his hand where it lay on her waist, but that only made him pull
her closer. She felt the length of his tall, hard body all along hers. His erection
was hard
against her backside, and it made her desire flare even hotter.

Had she been drinking too much of the wine? Had she been overcome by the party atmosphere,
the Frenchness of her Parisian life? Was that what made her wild spirit beat against
the prison of good sense all over again? Or was it just Dominic who made her feel
this way? As if she would burst from all the emotions and needs swirling inside of
her.

“I wouldn’t have to curse if you weren’t so maddening, Dominic St. Claire,” she said.
She traced her fingertips over his hand, the bare skin of his knuckles, and his long,
elegant fingers, and she wondered at the scrapes and calluses she felt there. A man
who was an actor and a gamester should surely have soft hands, not ones that felt
as if they had been doing hard labor.

But she had no time to ponder that intriguing puzzle. He touched the tip of his tongue
to her bare shoulder and then blew on it lightly until she shivered. That wild, yearning
feeling inside her expanded until she thought she might burst out of her skin.
He
did that to her, Dominic. He drew out the dark recklessness that had always been
her undoing.

Dominic scraped the edge of his teeth gently along her skin, making her shiver again,
before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her skin just where her sleeve fell from
her shoulder. His hand flattened against her waist and slid down over her abdomen,
lower and lower, gathering up the heavy folds of her skirt as he went. Sophia sighed
and let her head fall back on his shoulder.

He caught her lacy petticoats up with the skirt, and she felt the heat of his touch
through the thin silk of her
drawers. One fingertip traced her damp slit over the fabric, and she heard him groan
when he felt how wet she was there.

Sophia spun around in his arms and stared up into his eyes. His face was chiseled
and half-shadowed in the faint light that poured from the cracks in the wall. His
eyes glittered with passion, and his lips curved in a wry half-smile as he looked
down at her.

She traced a light touch slowly up the front of linen shirt and felt the hard heat
of his body under the soft fabric. Unable to stop herself, she slipped the pearl buttons
free and slid her hand inside to trace his naked skin. She loved the way he felt,
so strong and warm. So very alive, the most alive person she had ever known.

And he made her feel alive, too, after she had felt cold and numb for so long. After
she had shut off her emotions just in order to survive. That feeling was more intoxicating
than any wine could be.

She felt his stomach muscles tighten as her hand slid lower and lower. The tips of
her fingers brushed the band of his trousers, and she felt his erection harden even
more.

“Sophia…” he said tightly, but he didn’t move. He just watched her closely with those
jewel-like eyes.

Sophia smiled. She liked having Dominic under her touch, under her control, even as
she knew it was only an illusion. She knew that he surely never gave up his power
to anyone. She slid her palms up over his chest and pushed the coat back from his
shoulders. He shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor, still watching as she
untied his cravat and wound the length of fabric around her hand.

He unfastened his trousers and pushed them down, and suddenly he stood before her
naked in the shadows. He
was so handsome it was almost unreal, Sophia thought in a daze as she traced a soft
caress over his shoulders, down his arms, her fingertips fluttering over the lean
planes of his chest. Suddenly nothing else mattered but touching him, feeling him.
Forgetting everything else.

But even as she let herself dive deeper into that swirling pool of desire, she knew
how very dangerous this could all be. A woman in her position, so uncertain and alone,
couldn’t afford to forget. Look where letting her passions rule had taken her before—married
to the wrong person and at the mercy of unscrupulous men like Lord Hammond. Yet somehow
today felt like one small, too-brief moment out of time. Just for this moment she
could be herself, with Dominic. The man she wanted like no one else she had ever met.

And he seemed to sense what she needed. His breath was harsh, his jaw tight, but he
stood still and let her explore.

She closed her eyes and leaned closer to him. Every breath she took was filled with
the scent of him and seemed to draw him into her even more. She pressed her parted
lips to his bare chest and tasted the warm, damp salt of his skin. She could feel
his heartbeat against her, fast and frantic, echoing her own. She let the tip of her
tongue swirl around his flat nipple.

She had never been able to explore a man’s body like this. With Jack there had always
been a quick explosion of passion then a swift fall. It was—fascinating. She curled
her arms around him and traced her palms down his spine to pull him closer. Her hands
moved down, slowly, teasingly, until she traced her fingers over his ass. He was so
hard and tight, and she moaned against him.

And with that his iron control shattered. “Sophia,” he groaned, and his hands closed
around her waist to lift her up against him. Sophia laughed as he carried her across
the room to tumble her back onto the pile of old blankets behind the cabinet. He kissed
her, hard and hot and wet, full of raw, burning need. She arched her hips up into
his, and she felt his tongue slide into her mouth. The blurry haze of sexual need
closed in around her, and she held on to him tight as she fell down into it.

What was it about
this
man that made her feel this way? She didn’t know, and at the moment, she didn’t care.
That recklessness was taking over again.

“Sophia.” His mouth slid lower along her jaw, her shoulder, to linger on that sensitive
spot on her neck. When she sighed and let her head fall back, he reached up to curl
his fingers around the satin edge of her bodice and tugged it down. He nudged aside
the lace of her corset and bared her breast to his avid, bright green gaze. In the
faint light she could see that her nipple was already erect, dark pink, and aching
for his kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered darkly. “An enchantress.” He traced the tip of
his tongue along the soft underside of her breast, teasing her.

Sophia reached up to tangle her fingers in the rough silk of his hair and held him
against her. Finally, as she murmured wordless entreaties, he gave her what she begged
for and took her nipple deep into his mouth. As his tongue swirled around it, his
fingers caressed her other breast, gently, expertly. He rolled and plucked at the
nipple until she cried out his name.

His mouth traced a ribbon of kisses on the soft skin between her breasts, and Sophia
reached out blindly
between their bodies. His cock sprang into her hand, hard, hot, the veins throbbing
under her touch, and she felt a surge of triumph that he wanted her as much as she
wanted him.

She ran a slow, caressing touch up the full length of his manhood, then pressed closer
as he moaned. He pulled her skirts higher, and there was a sudden, short ripping sound
as he tore the delicate silk trousers out of his way. His finger lightly traced her
slit before sliding deep inside her. The rough friction of his touch against the soft
wetness made her cry out. Her back arched up from the quilts and her eyes closed as
the feelings washed over her.

His thumb rubbed hard against that tiny, hidden spot up high inside her, and it felt
as if white-hot sparks raced through her.

“Sophia,” he whispered against her neck as he kissed her there again and again. “Tell
me you want me.”

For an instant, she thought there was a strange, yearning note in his deep voice,
but when she opened her eyes to look up at him, his face was drawn taut into inscrutable,
unreadable lines.

“I—I want you,” she gasped. And she did want him, in the most fundamental way a woman
could want a man. She wanted his touch on her skin, his body inside hers. But there
was more she wanted, longings she didn’t even understand. Things she didn’t
want
to understand.

Dominic nodded, and his hand slid down her body to press her legs open. Then with
a sharp twist of his hips, he thrust deeply into her.

Sophia gasped at the sensation of being joined with him. She wrapped her legs tighter
around him and let the fire of pleasure close in around her. Pleasure only
he could bring. She held on to him as he drew back and lunged forward again and again,
deeper, harder, pounding into her. The scent and burning heat of him surrounded her
and she moved with him instinctively, seeking her own pleasure. Their bodies and their
breath were like one.

The sparkling, tingling pressure built and built deep inside her, growing and expanding
like the night sky until it exploded in a shower of white-hot stars.

“Dominic!” she cried, clinging to him as if he was the only rescue left in a drowning
world.

He threw his head back, his whole body taut above her as he found his climax. “Sophia,”
he shouted, and then slowly collapsed beside her on the blankets, his shoulders shaking,
his skin damp as it slid over hers. His breath sounded harsh in the sudden silence,
and Sophia feared she couldn’t breathe either. She closed her eyes to try and hold
on to the feelings as long as she could.

“Sophia,” Dominic whispered, and she felt him shift against her to rest his head on
her midriff, just below her bare breasts. His tousled hair brushed softly against
her skin, and she reached down to thread her fingers through it.