A Most Dangerous Lady (5 page)

     ‘Very well,’ he said tightly. ‘Then let us put an end to this idle fencing, delightful though it is. Kiss me, Desirée.’

     Caroline drew a shaky breath. He had demanded the same before his friends arrived, and she had acquiesced. Now he meant his lips – the intimacy of a lover’s kiss!

     His jaw and chin were darkly stubbled, rough-edged. He had been dashingly clean-shaven when he first came driving out of the dark on the Kent road, but now he looked more dangerous than ever. Almost piratical, she thought, and leant back on his lap, breathless and dazed by the enormity of what she had done.

     His eyes narrowed suspiciously on her masked face. ‘Changed your mind, madam?’

     Had she changed her mind? Had she thrown away her chance to have this handsome, arrogant creature at her mercy, bound for her pleasure. No, her soul cried out! This was a man who would never look twice at her of his own accord, the clumsy Lady Caroline with her dowdy gowns and bluestocking spectacles. To seduce this man had long been her dream, to seduce him against his will, and then cut him loose – never to be the wiser whose was the body he had enjoyed.

     ‘It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, of course,’ Lord Randall continued coolly, tilting his head to examine her face. ‘Yet you seem such a singularly determined woman, I find it hard to imagine
you
falling prey to your sex’s gooseish inability to make a decision.’

     ‘Gooseish? I should have left the gag in place,’ she replied sharply, then bent towards his lips with swift intent. ‘But here’s a better way of silencing your insults, my lord.’

     Trajan seemed surprised by the contact, then warmed to her kiss, pressing his whole body up towards her, his lips parting to admit her tongue.

     She explored the inner warmth of his mouth, letting her tongue dart and play against his, her hands tugging on his hair until she had his head in just the right position. There, she held him still, kissing him freely and openly, making sport with his mouth. And as they kissed, her thighs slid across his, rubbing up and down as she held herself on tiptoe, knowing how much she tormented him by the way he was breathing, sharp and shallow gasps.

     He groaned, and soon the urgent swelling in his breeches told of his arousal. ‘Desirée. You’re driving me insane.’

     Caroline rocked on his lap, and felt him shift against her, his eyes closed, his face grimacing as if in pain. Yet he nodded, urging her with his hips to keep rocking.

     ‘Yes,’ Trajan whispered in her ear, his voice hoarse. 'I can’t describe what you’re doing to me, sweet Desirée. Only move a little faster.’

     ‘Hush,’ she admonished him, and bent to press her lips against his mouth again. ‘There’s no hurry, my lord. It’s a good hour before Joseph will return, and we can accomplish all in that time.’

     Trajan said nothing more, allowing her free rein to do as she wished. But his swollen organ refused to be ignored, jutting hard against her thigh, demanding her attention. The memory of its girth scared her. But she was no coward, Caroline reminded herself sternly. Nor would putting off the inevitable achieve what she wanted from him.

     Wriggling one daring hand down between their bodies, she grasped his erection and stroked it, less afraid to touch and stroke him now that she had already seen the beast.

     Trajan closed his eyes, barely moving beneath her, wholly her prisoner. That velvet-snouted creature of his seemed to swell further, his shaft thickening at her touch, rigid as iron. Caroline groaned at its pulsing heat, kissing him and rocking on his lap as her hand played him back and forth, back and forth, trusting to her instinct.

     Hungry for something she could not fully understand, Caroline shook with desire. She sighed and moved her hand and body to the rhythm of his jerking hips. Between her thighs the soft flesh grew hot and damp, aching and swelling almost like his own. She rode his lap as though riding a horse, gripping his manhood in one fist, her eyes closed, head thrown back. His chair creaked in the dim glimmer of moonlight, the chair legs scraping repeatedly against the wooden boards.

     Soon a high-pitched keening sound seemed to be dragged out of her throat direct from her belly, issuing forth like strange birdsong on the stillness of the night.

     Caroline stared down at him as her echoing cries died away, scarlet-faced and shocked by the force of her response.

     ‘Unmask,’ he insisted, breathing hard. ‘Unmask, and let me see you properly.’

     Caroline shook her head, still too delirious with excitement to reply. Instinct bade her kiss him into silence once more, her mind working feverishly while she took his mouth. He is mine, she thought triumphantly! I have loved Trajan in secret for years, and now at last he is mine! And yet, if she loved him, could she truly give her innocence to him like this, her name unknown, dressed in a man’s clothing, seeming to him a whore and an abductress?

     Trajan frowned,  sensing her hesitation. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to change your mind. Typical woman!’

     Temper flared through her at this latest insult. How dared he, after everything she had done to prove herself the equal of any man!

     Instinctively, Caroline raised her hand to slap his face, and for a second was bewildered by the unholy gleam of amusement in his eyes. Then, too late to save herself, she understood his amusement.

     The slap never reached his face.

     His hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed her wrist, cruel and iron-hard, and before she knew what had happened Caroline was on the floor, on her back, staring up into his dark face, shocked and knowing herself to be utterly at his mercy.

     Somehow he was free, no longer her prisoner!

     ‘Surprise!’ he laughed huskily.

     Trajan bent his head and seized her lips in a ruthless, driving kiss which left her dazed and breathless - but in no doubt what was to happen next.

CHAPTER SIX

‘How the devil ... ?’

      ‘Kindling,’ Trajan explained, staring down into her startled face with relish. So his mysterious captor swore when she was angry, did she?

      She did not understand him. ‘Kindling?’

      ‘Your servant kindly allowed me out of my bonds a few times today, to stretch and answer the call of nature. Usually, he kept a pistol trained on me the whole time. Earlier this evening, however, his attention was momentarily distracted. I took the opportunity to slip two pieces of kindling up the sleeves of my shirt. Highly unadventurous, I agree,’ he admitted, grinning. ‘There’s a pile of the filthy stuff against the wall there. When he tied my wrists together again, those pieces of wood gave me an extra inch or two of space to play with. Once alone, I worked the kindling free – which took a damnable long time, I can tell you – then wriggled my hands out of the rope. After that, it was a simple enough task to untie my legs.’

      It had been hard too, forcing himself not to break free sooner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take her unawares.

      ‘I had been planning to charge the door and make my escape that way. However, you arrived soon afterwards, and facing down
two
pistols seemed rather too heroic for me. So I looped the rope about my legs as though still tied, and kept my hands behind my back, hoping to avoid discovery until the moment felt more propitious.’

      The mysterious golden-haired beauty stared up at him from behind her mask, her lips trembling. So he finally had her rattled, did he?

      ‘But you could have escaped at any time since Joseph left,’ she hissed at him. ‘Why didn’t you?’

      ‘I was curious to see how far you would go to punish me for my ... erm, misdemeanours ... toward women. Though frankly, this evening has hardly been about
punishing
me, has it? Rather more to do with your own pleasure, I suspect.’

      She bit her lip, teasing it deliciously between perfect white teeth. He looked at that tiny soul-revealing movement, and his groin ached to take her. And he would take her, just as soon as he had the answer to his question. He would drink his fill of this lawless, irresistible woman, and enjoy every honeyed moment of his triumph. But first he would know her identity.

      ‘Now, who are you?’ he demanded, and lifted his hand to untie her mask.

      She gasped and shrank away, but his hand slipped round her throat, holding her beneath him with a deliberate show of strength.

      ‘I will see your face, madam, whether you wish it or no. I advise you not to make me angry.’

      He pulled the ties that bound her mask, yanking it free to reveal her face.

      Familiar blue eyes glared up at him. A smudge of dark shadows beneath told of late nights spent in his company instead of her comfortable bed in town, the timid expression he knew so well replaced by one of unmitigated hostility.

      ‘Lady Caroline!’

      Trajan drew a harsh breath of disbelief and rocked back on his heels, abruptly releasing her wrists. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall rapidly into place. His captor’s surprisingly elegant turn of speech, the ironic gleam in those blue eyes, the way Lady Caroline had defended the actions of the Petticoat Club – not through foolishness, as he had assumed, but because she was their leader.

      How stupid he had been, how blind!

      He stood up, then strode angrily to the window, tearing the shutters open. The full moon shone in, bright with ghostly light over the stark treetops. No setting for a mystery could have been better, he thought savagely. Except this was no romance, but a deadly serious misadventure that might yet end at the gallows for this earl’s daughter.

      Lady Caroline was kneeling on the floor, her head bent, golden hair streaming over her face, her shoulders shaking, unfeminine and yet intensely desirable in breeches.

      Damn it, was the chit weeping?

      Trajan turned away, suddenly angry. Hell, she had thrown herself at his head, brought him here at pistol-point, kissed him, touched him in the most intimate way – and now she wept, as though he were to blame for all.

      His eye alighted on the pistol she had laid aside on the table, and after a moment’s hesitation he picked it up. It lay heavy in his palm, a man’s weapon.

      How had she been able to train it on him so long without her hand shaking?

      He cocked the pistol and levelled it at her head, his voice thoughtful. ‘Tell me, Lady Caroline, who are your accomplices? The other members of this Petticoat Club – I want their names.’

      ‘I cannot tell you that.’

      Examining her bent head, Trajan frowned. ‘What would you prefer, I wonder? For your family to share in your ruination and disgrace, to witness your public trial and probable execution? Or to mourn the death of a dutiful daughter, never knowing why she died?’

      Lady Caroline looked up, then. She faced down the barrel of the pistol without any sign of fear in her blue eyes.

      ‘If those are the two choices open to me, my lord,’ she said simply, ‘I would prefer to save my father the pain of my disgrace. I will not give you the names of my friends. So pull the trigger if you must.’

      Trajan looked into those courageous eyes and knew she spoke the truth. She would not betray her friends. Despite his anger at what had befallen him at her hands, he could not help but be filled with admiration for this woman. Faced with the prospect of imminent death, how many well-born ladies of his acquaintance would show such resolve, such a lack of self-pity?

      Her courage was astounding!

      ‘And why choose me to punish?’ he demanded. ‘There must be plenty of other gentlemen in town who have offended your precious club.’

      She seemed to swallow. Nervous at last?

      ‘I remembered your duel with Rexburgh in my first season. I could not forget how well ... That is, I wondered whether you were still handy with a pistol, my lord.’

      ‘You wanted to pit your skill against mine?’         

      Somewhat incredulous, he uncocked the pistol and placed it carefully out of her reach. Much as he admired her, he had no wish to end up on the wrong end of that particular muzzle again. He knelt beside her, and she looked at him wonderingly, her lips parted, a pulse beating rapidly in her white throat.

      His desire to have her returned abruptly, and it was all he could do not to throw her to the floor there and then.

      ‘Well, my wildcat.’ He tilted her chin up towards him. ‘Where were we?’

      ‘My lord?’

      ‘My lady?’ he responded ironically. Damn, her mouth was inviting!

      She gasped as he kissed her on the lips, and for a few difficult seconds he thought she would fight him off. Then her arms were flung about his neck, clasping him in a way that left him in no way uncertain of her willingness.

      Free at last, his hands slid up to cup her breasts. They felt deliciously prominent under the man’s shirt.

      Lady Caroline moaned against his mouth, inflaming his already unbearable desire. He wasted no time in tearing the wretched garment from her body. Bare at last, her breasts tilted up into his hands, delicately curved, the nipples stiff and white.

      Trajan bent his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, and felt her whole body arch in response, not in shame but apparent rapture.

      Was the girl more experienced than he had imagined?

      The thought made him tense, suddenly disliking the thought of Lady Caroline in bed with another man. Yet why the hell should he care if some other man had been there first?

      If she was not a virgin, so much the better. That way he would not have to worry about breaking her in gently, but could take the girl as forcefully as he wished.

      Her hands were fumbling with his shirt. Trajan drew back slightly, allowing her free rein. She dragged the shirt over his head, then made for the fall of his breeches again, her hands practised. Nor did she look startled by his nudity but stared greedily, her hands resting on his bare chest as naturally as if she did this every night.