After The Storm (21 page)

She cast a sidelong glance up at him. In the golden glow of the fire, he was mystical—his black hair glinting as it tumbled over his forehead, his eyes glittering. There were a few lines at the corners of his eyes, and at the curve of his mouth, but they only added to his sensual allure. He held his hands out to warm them, and she was surprised at his elegant, tapered fingers, long enough to play the pianoforte easily, but not so long as to render them anything but masculine.

“I thank you.” She snuggled further into the coat. “Please, tell me if you grow cold.”

“Worry not. As long as this fire burns, I will be fine.” He smiled down at her, a smile that warmed her blood even more than the fire.

She returned his smile. “All the same, please tell me.”

The wind picked up strength, rattling the windows in their panes and Miranda shivered again, despite the coat about her shoulders. “I do hope the snow lets up soon. It is far too early in the season,” she murmured. The wood popped and she scrunched back a bit. The last thing she wanted was to have one of those darting embers set her aflame. It was enough she’d lost two of the Thorpeton horses, she didn’t wish to make matters worse by setting their cottage ablaze as well.

“You look sleepy.” Hugh shifted and winced as he straightened his left leg.

“I’d hoped I was hiding it better.”

“Come and lean against me if you need to. I promise you, I’ll not bite.”

Tempting, to say the least. But far too dangerous. “I think it best if I didn’t.”

“Oh, come now, I
did
offer you my coat, leaving myself subject to the elements.”

“Your Grace—”

“Hugh.” His interruption was a mere whisper. “Please, I far prefer my own name. Very few people seem to be able to see past my title. Even more so since my father’s death.”

Sadness shadowed his face, his eyes darkened, and he seemed lost—something she knew far too well. Scooting a bit closer, she leaned into him to murmur, “You were close to him, weren’t you? Aside from his grooming you to inherit.”

“Yes. And his passing was unexpected.”

“I know. Your sister spoke of him. He died in a fall?” She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t said something she oughtn’t.

But he only nodded. “He prided himself on being different from the others—thought them all terribly stuffy and stodgy.” He smiled sadly. “And so, when Thorpeton Hall needed renovations several years ago, he had a bathing tub installed in his chambers. A huge monstrosity of black marble. He was readying to take a soak when he slipped and hit his head. I was in America at the time and unable to return for his funeral.”

“Oh, Hugh…” His name felt so natural on her lips she hardly noticed she’d used it, hardly noticed how he stiffened as she leaned her head against his arm. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Unsure of what else to say, she just leaned into him. The wind seemed less ferocious, the night less foreboding as she closed her eyes and savored his nearness. When Hugh shifted, the muscle beneath his linen shirt bulged, and she lifted her head.

“You needn’t move. I was but only trying to find a more comfortable position. This stone floor was not meant for sitting.”

She smiled. His wasn’t the only uncomfortable body. “I’m afraid my arse went numb hours ago.”

He grinned down at her. “A well-turned phrase, my lady.”

Her cheeks burned at his teasing. “I apologize for my crassness. Mrs. Anderson is forever reminding me to think before I speak.”

“Please don’t. I wish more ladies had the presence of mind to say exactly what they felt. It is asking a lot of a man to try to decipher the meanings behind some of your words.”

She glanced up at him to find him still gazing down at her, a smile on his lips. Perhaps it was only the fire, but warmth spread through her and grew stronger as his gaze lingered.

“Is that why you kissed me last eve?” Perhaps it was too bold to ask, but she had to know. Maybe then she might move beyond it.

But Hugh shrugged as if her question was of no great consequence. “No. That isn’t the reason. I kissed you because I wanted to. You looked to be in great need of a kiss. I’ll wager it had been a lifetime...” All traces of teasing vanished. “And you needed kissing...as much as I needed to kiss you.”

Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the low purr of his voice. “Did I?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“To remind you, you are still a woman.” He said this without malice, his words silky and quite seductive. “I think you forget from time to time.”

She stiffened. “I thank you for the reminder, but it isn’t necessary.”

Remaining unperturbed, he asked, “Then why don breeches and ride astride a horse?”

She shrugged. “Society’s rules are silly. I cannot abide by silly rules. And I’m not of the opinion riding astride makes me any less a woman.”

Hugh stayed silent a moment. “Agreed. Some of society’s rules are downright idiotic, if you ask me. And since I think of you in those breeches often I have to agree with your second point as well.” He winced as he shifted his weight again. Then, with a sidelong glance, he remarked, “You haven’t answered me, you know.”

The ache in her backside crept both upward and downward, but that wasn’t the only thing making her uncomfortable. “Answered what?”

“When was the last time you were kissed, Miranda? And not by a boy. When was the last time you were kissed by a man, one who knew what he was doing?”

Her spine popped painfully. Another wince and another scuttle as she tried to find a new comfortable position. “I will not answer such nonsense.”

“Oh, come now. I’ll not hold it against you, no matter what your answer. I am merely curious.”

Curious. She glared at him. “And how many women have
you
kissed, Your Grace?”

“Are you certain you wish an answer to that?”

A slow smile accompanied his words, one that sent butterflies fluttering their wings wildly in her belly to beat away the sourness. Her mouth went dry as he held her gaze, his eyes sleepy and heavy-lidded. It was overpoweringly sensual, and she wasn’t at all certain it was simply because he was tired. No man had ever looked at her in such a—
seductive
—manner and the feeling produced by such a look was quite delicious, to say the least. Her annoyance faded.

Unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she asked, “Will you answer me true?”

“My lady, I have kissed enough women to know what I’m doing.”

Why didn’t
that
surprise her? “I’ll wager you have.”

“And none have complained.”

Her laugh emerged as an unladylike snort, but she didn’t care. “You are a peacock, Thorpeton.”

“Hardly.” It was his turn to laugh without humor. “A peacock has no flaws, at least none he is willing to divulge. We are all well aware of my imperfections, as I cannot possibly hide them.”

Her gaze fell to his leg for a moment and then she met his stare. “A limp is
not
a flaw.”

“It is when you cannot hide it.” He shrugged broad shoulders and turned back to tend the fire. “But inheriting a dukedom makes some look beyond the imperfections.”

“Please.” She rose onto her knees to shrug out of his greatcoat. “It seems to me no one pays any mind to that little limp except for you. And here...” She thrust the coat at him. “You may have this back. I am quite warm now.”

He refused to accept it as he sank back beside her with a tired groan. “Put it back on before you catch your death.”

“No.” She shoved it at him.

“Miss MacDonough,” his voice dropped to a warning growl as he shoved her hands back. “You need it more than I do at the moment. Look at you, you’re still shivering. Put the bloody coat back on or I shall do it for you.”

She held his gaze, challenged him to do just that. “I said I’ve no further need for it.”

“Damnation, woman, do as I say.”

“No.” Miranda rose to her feet, the coat crumpling in a heap on the stone. “Do it yourself,
Your Grace
.”

Hugh glared at her as he slowly stood until he loomed over her like an angel of darkness. “You do not wish to push me, my lady.”

“Why? Do you become some hulking ogre? A monster from a nightmare, perhaps?” She folded her arms over her chest and stared him down as he swiped up the coat and took a step toward her. “What do you see when you look in the mirror, Thorpeton? Do you see a hideous beast, or an ordinary man?” Well, perhaps not an
ordinary
man. Hugh was anything
but
ordinary. His stare alone was enough to melt the snow surrounding their cottage.

“We are no longer discussing me. Come back to the fire and put that bloody coat back on.”

There was definite fire in his voice, hotter than the flames dancing on the hearth. She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and said, “No.”

She shrieked as his arm shot out and his fingers snapped about her wrist. With one hard yank of his hand she slammed into his chest with an outraged gasp. His mouth slashed down over hers to silence that gasp, but his lips, warm and soft, weren’t angry as they caressed hers. She shivered against his heat as his tongue probed against her closed lips to seek entry. She granted permission, and his kiss deepened. His tongue caressed hers with a sensuality that left her weak-kneed.

He released her wrist to slide both arms around her, one about her waist, the other her shoulders. She wound her arms around his neck as he bent her back and thoroughly explored her mouth with sinful leisure. She threaded her fingers through the hair curling at his nape, and pulled him even closer.

Chapter Seventeen

Hugh’s body heat sank into her, loosening her limbs and soothing her aching muscles. It left her clinging to him, afraid she’d crumple to her knees if she didn’t hold on. Her head swam, her belly churned, and she returned his kiss with fervency. When she thought he might pull away, she drew him closer still. His response was to seize her lips in an even fiercer kiss, hot and impatient. A thrill tore through her as his tongue snaked along hers with sensual fire. His arms tightened, crushing her against him, but she didn’t mind.

Desire scorched through her at this contact, at the hardness of his body so tight against hers. Tingles erupted in the pit of her belly, a starburst of white-hot fire tore through her as he drew her tongue back into the wet heat of his mouth, and she couldn’t hold back her soft moan of delight. He was delicious, his kiss the sweetest wine she’d ever tasted. His groan matched hers as he tugged her down onto the cold, somewhat uneven stone floor. However, it didn’t seem at all uncomfortable, despite the chill and jagged edges that poked her. Any discomfort was lost in the delight of the solid bulk of his body against hers.

Solid
was the only way to describe him. Thick bands of muscle corded his shoulders, wrapped down over his arms. She shuddered as he pulled away and his upper arms bulged beneath the fine linen of his sleeves. His lips grazed down over the curve of her neck and she breathed an airy sigh as her skin tingled with each caress. It was so wildly wonderful, so deliciously sensuous, she never wanted it to end, never wanted to move out from beneath him.

His lips caught hers, stole her breath with another smoldering kiss, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders when he eased a leg between hers. He skimmed down her throat, and she couldn’t swallow a giggle as he stroked over a ticklish spot. Hugh nibbled at it again, his laughter a warm puff against her as he murmured, “Do you protest?”

“Hardly…” Her voice was oddly breathy, and hitched as the tip of his tongue brushed the same sensitive spot. “I apologize, but it tickles a bit.”

“Do not waste your breath apologizing,” he murmured, rising up to capture her lips again.

It was so easy to forget where they were, to forget the cold and the wind and the snow. She was more than willing to forget he belonged to another. For tonight, at least, he was hers. She was determined to block out reality for as long as possible.

His warm hands skimmed down over her waist to catch her still-damp linen shirt. He shoved up, tugged fabric away from her flesh, and she gasped at the sudden heat of skin to skin contact.

His kiss caught her surprised cry as his fingers sought out and found the undersides of her breasts. Fire shot through her as her nipples tightened, her back arched, and her hips rose to make contact with him in a most intimate manner. His hardness pressed into her strongest ache, fueled her need, and filled her with a wanting unlike any other.

Linen whisked upward, over her head, to land in a crumpled heap. He gave her no chance to protest, but pressed his hips harder into hers as he murmured, “Randi…” in the huskiest of voices.

He lifted his head, and her heart skipped a beat at the blazing fire in his eyes. They gleamed black in the firelight, shone like polished onyx, but she knew they were green—a deep, sensual green—and she reached up to trail the tip of her forefinger down the rough curve of his cheek. “Yes?”

A sensual smile pulled at his lips as he rose from her and rocked onto his knees with only the slightest of grimaces. “I have thought of this moment since the first time I saw you,” he rumbled, his voice thick and husky. “The first time I held you. The first time you bloody near crushed my foot.”

A breathless laugh rose to her lips. “Och, I do hope ye’ll forget my terrible dancing.”

“Worry not, for though I remember it all too well, it is overshadowed by the delightful memory of your breasts pressed against my chest, and of how light you felt in my arms.” His voice deepened, grew huskier still as he parted the linen of his shirt.

Her heart pounded wildly at the sight of him above her, and the urge to touch him almost strangled her, but she tamped it down as she murmured, “So,
that
is what you were thinking as I tripped and trod on your feet.”

“Love, that was
all
I could think about. Made feeling pain impossible, but it did come close to betraying me during more than one dance.”

Her cheeks warmed at his inference. “Surely, you’ve better control than that,” she whispered.

His laughter was throaty and rich as he bent forward and brushed her lips with a kiss. “I thought so as well. I was wrong.”

The pleasant blush grew, and she couldn’t control her silly grin as she shook her head at him. “If it helps, I never knew until now.”

“And now, you will know
exactly
what I’m feeling for you.” He dipped back, caught her lips in a deep kiss, and snatched any remaining words from her throat.

When they parted, he rocked back again and she bit down on her bottom lip as she drank in the sight of him. This wasn’t happening. That was
not
his shirt in a crumpled heap atop hers. They were not each half-clothed, on their way to becoming naked. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest and the highlighted swells of muscle that gleamed burnished gold from the fire, bunching and smoothing with the slightest of movements.

It was impossible to resist him a moment longer. She reached up and pressed a hand flat against his belly, firm and solid, with no hint of give beneath her fingertips. “Och, but ye’re a bonny mon, Hugh Thorpeton,” she murmured.

His eyes closed at her first touch and she felt emboldened by his hitched breath. She reached upward as far as she could, then grazed her fingertips down until they snagged in the waist of his breeches. A muscle bulged in his jaw and a soft groan rose from his lips as she stroked upward again. She felt no embarrassment, no shame in her desire for him, but only an overpowering sense of curiosity. She’d imagined this moment so many times, imagined what she’d do, if he ever held her in his arms.

Hugh was patient, letting her explore, letting her fingers wander, and his eyes opened as she paused in her stroke. He’d winced again. She’d forgotten he was on his knees, and remorse swept through her to momentarily dampen her arousal. She relaxed her arm, letting her hand drop to the floor as she stammered, “Oh, Hugh...your leg…I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

Another soft groan slipped from his mouth as he straightened, and covered her body with his again. His groan melted into a relieved sigh as he sank into her. “As did I, until the pain became too much to ignore. Now, love…let your fingers wander where they may.” His lips brushed her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “For I am about to do the same.”

His hand came to rest on her belly, but did not remain still. It swept upwards, curved to cradle her right breast. She sucked in her breath as more tingles erupted at his touch, a dull ache spread through her as his thumb brushed her nipple, and it puckered in response.

It was far too much effort to keep her eyes open, so she let her eyelids droop as he caressed her breast with those teasing fingertips. Heat filled her, scorched her to create a most delicious tension deep inside. Her belly tightened, the knot dropped lower still, and pressing herself against him offered only the slightest hint of relief. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. So much more.

A cool draft wafted over her breast as he withdrew his hand, only to replace it with the wet heat of his mouth as he captured her nipple between teasing lips and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Her back bowed at the sudden, delightful pleasure, and she wrapped her arms about him to hold him as he teased her until her head swam and her entire body ached with need. His touch was better than she’d ever imagined, and more wonderful than any dream.

His free hand swept downwards, and she never heard the pop of the falls of her breeches. The fabric simply fell away. A quick draft of cold air, and then her swift gasp echoed through the small room when his hand cupped against her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip as he gently slid a single finger inside her.

It wasn’t embarrassment burning her innards and twisting them into unbearably tight knots. No, it was the heavenly, delightful, sinfully wicked pleasure he stroked to life with his skillful touch. Her entire body hummed now, and a long, breathless purr tickled her lips. She forced her heavy eyelids to rise to gaze up at Hugh, only to lose her breath at the brazen hunger she saw in his eyes. No man ever looked at her with such feral desire, as if her pleasure was of great importance. It served to fire her blood further.

He teased and stroked, caressed and aroused until his touch wasn’t enough. Desire and need caught her in sharp teeth and she wriggled against him in an attempt to quell the ache, to stave the fury. Hugh laughed softly as he caught each throaty cry with hungry lips and brought her closer and closer to the edge. She clutched at him, her fingernails bit into his flesh, her throat dry, and her voice husky. He murmured something into her ear, something she couldn’t hear over the rush of her blood as it pounded through her temples. His arm tightened and his lips caressed her as she erupted.

Lights, bright and colorful, danced before her eyes as every nerve, every fiber, tensed and she gave in to her primal urge to cry out as the sweet fire of release swept through her. Pleasure, deep and powerful, tore through her entire being as she clung to him, as he teased her to the pinnacle of bliss. He urged her on with soft, growling whispers, and then brought her back to earth, where she lay trembling in his arms, fighting for breath.

“Oh...my…” There were no words for what she felt, and she wouldn’t be able to speak them if there were, anyhow. Her entire body quivered from the force of her climax, and it seemed to take an eternity for the final pinpricks of ecstasy to die away. But when they did, a different need filled her with a fury she’d never imagined. She had to touch him, had to brand Hugh the way he’d branded her. Without warning, she grabbed at the falls of his breeches, yanked, and tugged until she found what she sought and to hell with whether or not it was proper.

It was Hugh’s turn to groan as her fingers caught his arousal and refused to release him. She didn’t hold back, wasn’t at all shy, and she smiled as he sucked in a sharp breath when her hand closed about him. Wonder swirled through her as she gave a careful stroke. He was as hot as newly forged steel, and as sleek as polished silver, and he growled out a long sigh of pleasure as she slid her fingers along his length in a second, fluid caress.

“Oh…love…” His growl was harsh in her ear and he shuddered as she stroked him again.

His head dropped into the curve of her neck. His heat grew, burned her fingers, but she wouldn’t release him. With each stroke, he matched her pleasure for pleasure.

It lasted a few more minutes, this mutual battle of wills. Each inflamed the other until throaty groans and heavy sighs were the only sound in the cabin. Her desire screamed back to life, tore through her as her body demanded him to quench the fire threatening to rage out of control.

She released him long enough to kick herself free of her bloody breeches. She knew what was to come, and welcomed it, welcomed
him
. It mattered not that she was on the verge of the greatest mistake of her life. It mattered not what happened when morning came. All that mattered was extinguishing the all-consuming blaze Hugh stoked to life.

His legs were hot to the touch as he stripped off his breeches and settled between her thighs. At the first caress of his arousal against her, her legs parted to cradle his hips easily.

He reached down between them, and she cried out in lusty thanks as he breached her, filled her slowly, sensually. It was beyond wonderful, beyond anything she’d ever imag—

Ow
.

She hadn’t expected pain, and her legs tightened against his sides on their own. Still, the pain grew, swelling like a bruise and about as comfortable as one. “Hugh…wait…”

“Wait?” Disbelief made the word raggedy, but he did as she asked. His hips went still, though his breathing remained strained. “Randi?”