After The Storm (13 page)

“I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration.” Both hands curled about her wrists to halt her wrapping.

Her skin burned where he touched her, and her mouth went dry as she looked down at him. His serene expression gave nothing away, but the air practically crackled with sudden tension. “Am I wrapping too tight?” she asked after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Not at all.” Were his eyes a darker green, or was it simply her imagination playing tricks?

“Then why did you halt me?”

His gaze never wavered, but held hers and smoldered even more. Yes. His eyes were most
definitely
darker. “That color suits you, Randi. You look beautiful.”

A sudden thickness tightened her throat and her body. “I thank you,” emerged as a husky purr, causing her to flinch. Then she frowned and tugged at the linen. “Drat it all. I’ve wrapped it crooked.”

He didn’t stop her as she slowly unwound the bit of cravat she’d smoothed about his neck and attempted to wrap it again. “Here…let me try once more. I do know how to tie one, but my fingers seem to be all thumbs at the moment.”

It only grew worse. The longer he watched, the more clumsily her hands behaved. It took three passes before she managed to wrap his throat perfectly, and by then, she was completely unnerved. “Please, Your Grace, I beg your pardon. I...I don’t know why this is so bloody difficult.” She gasped at her choice of words, her hands going still as she jerked upright and his mesmerizing gaze caught hers again.

Marvelous
, she thought furiously.
You sound like a bloody street urchin.
“Forgive me my slip. Normally I am not one for swearing.”

His shoulders rose in a careless shrug. “Do not trouble yourself. I assure you, my ears have withstood far worse obscenities than
bloody
.”

A nervous laughter bubbled to her lips, followed by a most inelegant snort that left her burning with embarrassment as she begged his pardon a third time. Oh drat! Everything she’d been so careful to hide roared to the foreground as her composure burst its seams.

Hugh seemed more amused than anything. “Please, worry not, Randi. I won’t tell a soul about your rather adorable snort.”

Warmth filled her and she didn’t care if she blushed as she bobbed her head in thanks, and then focused on the stubborn neck cloth. Finally, she released his cravat with flourish. “There!”

“I thank you.”

“You look very much the gentleman this evening.” She stayed right there, between his legs. She was in no hurry to leave his company, and he seemed to be in no hurry for her to do so. “In fact, you fit the image of a duke I’ve always carried.”

A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Do I?” His eyes glinted in the low light. “Do you often imagine what a duke might look like?”

She shrugged, her cheeks hotter still.

A soft laugh kissed his lips as he caught both of her hands in his. “You needn’t blush so. I am not mocking you. On the contrary, really. You fascinate me.”

His words surprised her and she stood there, dumbfounded. Butterflies came to life in a flutter of activity as his thumbs brushed along hers. The shocking jolt returned, tore up both arms in unison, and made it most difficult to catch her breath.

She
should
pull her hands free, should hurry from his chambers without a look back, but it was impossible. There was no way she’d be able to move, and she prayed for time to halt but for five minutes. That was all she asked...five minutes more.

But time stopped for no one and her absence was sure to be noticed. “Hugh,” she whispered, “I should be going below…my aunt…you need to finish dressing and this is utterly improper. Why, if someone catches us…”

Hugh shook his head ever so slowly, still holding her gaze. “No one would dare enter without my permission. Not even my valet takes such liberty.” He stroked her thumbs again, his voice softer and deeper still. “I thank you for your help, Randi. There are those days when I miss my youth. When I needed no help. From anyone.”

“You are
not
old, Your Grace.” Why was her breath so hard to catch? Another flutter through her belly and the breathlessness worsened.

“I am fraying a tad at the seams these days, I’m afraid.” His words were soft, and sadness tinged his grin.

A deep breath did little to quell the returning sense of wickedness as she bent forward to whisper in his ear, “I happen to like frayed seams.”

He turned, and caught her by surprise as his lips found hers. His hands came to rest upon her hips and his kiss was gentle. No demand, just a curious caress, but it was enough.

Time ground to a halt as his hands slid over her hips to meet at the small of her back. He pulled her closer, his arms tightening about her as the tip of his tongue teased her still-pursed lips. She shivered at the tickle of it against her lips and as she smiled they parted. The tickle erupted into a delicious burst of pleasure as his tongue delved down to tease hers with a hot, silken caress.

Her back stiffened at the intrusion, but only for a moment before delight filled her and she gave into the need to curve her body against his. Her arms slid about his neck, her fingertips threaded through his hair. He shivered at the caress and his breath caught as his arms snapped tight about her.

His kiss deepened. No longer light and teasingly sweet, it was heady and sensual, unlike any kiss she’d ever experienced. He tasted of brandy and wickedness.

He broke the kiss and his lips swept downward, over her throat and down into the shadow of her breasts. Her head fell back, a long, deep sigh of delight bubbled to her lips, and her knees crumpled like worn linen.

Hugh caught her, whisked her around to press her down into the soft tick. He sank onto her, his lips capturing hers again with heated ferocity. His kiss scorched her, threatened to sweep her away, and she wrapped her arms about his neck again to hold fast against the rising tide.

Her eyelids drooped shut as Hugh continued his assault on her overheated skin, as he nibbled and kissed inch by inch, until she thought she’d go mad from the pleasure coiling within her belly. The fire grew, threatened to burn out of control as he slid one hand from beneath her, and brought it up and with just the tips of his fingers, grazed over her left breast.

It was barely a touch, but an arrow of pleasure sliced through her, as wicked and wrong as it was delicious and sweet. She made no attempt to swallow her blissful sigh, but let it bubble up and float from her lips as the sensations coursed through her.

His hand slid back down, a bit more firm this time, and her nipple tightened beneath his palm. When he came up a second time, his hand remained curved over her breast. A bit of pressure, and she groaned aloud this time. Dear God…the pleasure was sweeter than any she’d ever known.

Heavenly tension mingled with fiery pleasure to cord her body and pull it taut. Her fingers twisted in his hair, pulled him closer as he cradled her breast in loving fingers. He shifted, and his lips seized hers in a fierce kiss that tore the breath from her lungs. Another shift and he covered her body with his, his desire evident as they aligned perfectly. He groaned at first contact, and her response was as shocking as it was natural, her legs tried to part to accommodate him. Only her skirt pulled tight about her prevented it.

He nibbled at her lips, his breath ragged and raw as his thumb continued circling her now-aching nipple. The tightness within her was unbearable, threatening to drive her into madness with the need for
some
sort of relief. Fire filled her, and she arched into him, breathless with anticipation of his next touch.

With a strangled groan, Hugh broke their kiss. His forehead came to rest on her breast, and his ragged breathing matched hers. “You had best go now, Randi.” His voice was thick, his words slow, his eyes heavy-lidded and sensual. “Your absence might be noticed and it will not be long before I am unable to bid myself halt.”

That was the
last
thing she wished to hear. Not now, when her body ached with desire and burned with need. Not when she’d go mad from the delight of his lips, the thrill of his touch. She didn’t care if they
were
caught, didn’t care about anything other than the all-powerful desire threatening to devour her if he did not do something about it.

Her own breath came in sharp gasps and she bit down on her bottom lip to hold back her moan of protest. It was all so new, this raw, unbridled desire, and now that she’d gotten a simple taste of it, she wanted more. She wanted to feel his skin, bare against hers. She wanted to feel his weight pressed into her.

She wanted
him
.

All she needed to do was tell him, to speak her mind as she so often did. It was simple, a skill that served her well until her arrival in England. She cared not what people thought, or if her absence was noticed. She cared not if they pointed and whispered as she stepped into the ballroom with her hair disheveled and her gown a mess of crushed yellow silk. Let them talk. Let them gossip until they were blue in the face. Instead, she’d be able to glance across the room at Hugh and share a secret smile with him, leaving the gossiping crows positively jade with envy.

A delicious notion, no doubt, but one that could never be more than a passing one. She could never tolerate being the subject of sordid gossip, and an impetuous tumble wouldn’t erase his imminent betrothal. As much as it pained her, she had to leave.

He groaned again, and slid off to lie beside her. Flat on his back, his breathing still raggedy, he growled, “You need to leave
now
. If not, you
will
regret your actions.”

She wanted to tell him he was mad. How could she regret her actions unless they were caught? That was equally mad. Yet, the words stuck in her throat and died there as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “You are right. There’s your Lady Sally to consider.”

“Sally.” His voice grew frosty and hard. “Yes. It wouldn’t do for us to take things further when she is but a floor beneath us.”

Was he angry with her, or with what he saw as his own weakness? She couldn’t tell and couldn’t bring herself to ask. She didn’t want to hear him say he regretted kissing her.

She inched from the bed to avoid wrinkling her gown further. As she stood, a hand to the back of her head told her, her coiffure remained undisturbed. A glance down showed her skirts were only a bit wrinkled. Likely that would go unnoticed.

She stepped away from the bed, and turned to look at him. Still on his back, his breathing had returned to normal, and his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. “You will do your lady proud this evening, Your Grace,” she said, trying to smile through her crushing disappointment at their spoilt moment. “Perhaps you will sign my dance card?”

He sat up at, his mouth tight and eyes no longer glinting. “Are you certain you wish to be seen on a dance floor with a cripple?” He gestured to the cane in the shadows.

“Pish, you are hardly a cripple, despite the nonsense you spew,” she scoffed as she stretched to pluck her reticule from the bed. “You’ve a stiff leg. That doesn’t render you an incomplete man. You are merely feeling sorry for yourself and I find that to be a bit childish.”

His jaw tightened. “Spoken as one who
thinks
she knows, yet hasn’t any inkling. You haven’t any notion of what I feel or don’t feel.”

She made a face at him as she straightened up. “Perhaps I am not as…worldly…as you, sir, but I
do
know self-pity when I see it.”

With that, she spun about and strode to the door, almost biting her tongue off to keep quiet. It wasn’t easy, but she had no desire to get into a spat with him. It simply wasn’t worth it. Far better to take herself from the room, as Hugh muttered something beneath his breath and the feather tick crinkled to break the sudden, velvet-thick silence.

She paused to gaze at Hugh over one shoulder. He’d risen from the bed and stood at his dressing table, his back to her, as he eased into a sedate frock coat of midnight blue velvet. Apparently he’d already dismissed her. She hadn’t thought her disappointment could hurt worse than it already did, but she was wrong. Instead of a mild pang, it swelled into a crushing wave, threatening to pound her into the floor.