Captive of Sin (23 page)

The desert still extended ahead.

Dry. Waterless. Barren. Deadly.

She glanced down at his trousers, then unflinchingly lifted her eyes. “You want me. I know it.” Her voice broke.

He strove to deny his desire. But his throat closed and wouldn’t permit that ultimate heresy.

His heart pumped out an inexorable rhythm. Two words. Over and over.
Take her. Take her. Take her.

“Do I…do I please you?”

He fought to frame the lie, to tell her she meant nothing to him, to set her free.

Vibrating with tension, she stood before him. She stared back from steady hazel eyes, more brown than green. But her lips were soft with a vulnerability that mangled his gut.

He opened his mouth to speak.

She didn’t flinch. Nor did her gaze waver.

She must guess what he meant to say.

Her mouth trembled. If he hadn’t watched so closely, he’d have missed the tiny tensing of her lips. It was the reaction of someone braced for the killing blow, for pain past endurance.

He knew that feeling. Just so had he faced down his jailers in Rangapindhi.

That hint of vulnerability broke him.

Three strides, and he was at her side. He swung her high in his arms. Blood thundered in his ears. Two more strides, and he reached the bed. Without letting her go, he pushed her back onto the crumpled sheets.

Gideon was pure animal. Savage. Hungry. Desperate.

He knelt between her legs, his cock straining. Roughly, he brushed away the thick dark blond hair cascading across her bare breasts. The demons shrieked for him to stop, but roaring physical need trapped them behind a wall of glass.

He grabbed her hips with his gloved hands and pressed hard, openmouthed kisses across the white plain of her belly. She tasted like hot musky honey.

He suckled on her nipple, pressing it against his tongue, drawing the flavor deep into his mouth. She cried out and bucked.

He didn’t linger. This moment poised on a knife edge. His lips closed on her other nipple, biting until she writhed. She lifted her hands to his shoulders.

Dear God, if she pushed him away, what would he do?

But her fingers dug into his damp shirt, clenching and unclenching in time with the rhythm of his mouth on her breast.

He ripped his trousers open. The pounding in his head was so loud, he hardly heard the material shredding.

With ruthless hands, he angled her hips up and plunged into her.

Heat.

Pressure.

One fragile, glowing moment that might have been peace.

Stray details overwhelmed starved senses. Her scent. The soft rattle of her breathing. The way she quivered under him.

He rose to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was stark with tension. Damn it, he must be hurting her. Principle insisted he stop, withdraw, leave her be.

He began to pull out. Meaning to end this travesty. But the sensation of his tumescent flesh sliding free of her sleek passage nearly blew the top of his head off. Pleasure so intense it edged on pain incinerated him in a white-hot blast.

His scruples dissolved to ash. His heart tolled a despairing note as he thrust back inside her. Hard. Demanding. Pitiless.

She closed around him with what felt like welcome. This time he paused, luxuriating in the tightness. He shifted. Edged deeper.

Charis moaned, a low, guttural sound that resonated in his gut. The hands on his shoulders slid down to curl around his straining back. She tilted her hips higher.

Her eyes opened. The pupils were dilated, and the irises were rich gold. The skin on her face stretched tight. She tipped her head back, her thick lashes fluttered down, and she arched with a long, low, keening sound.

What frail restraints he’d imposed snapped. There was just the hot clasp of her body and his thundering need.

He changed the angle of penetration. Her body moved with him. He withdrew and thrust again. He needed the rhythm more than he needed breath.

Faster.

Harder.

The endless rocking of his hips against hers. The slide of his flesh into her slender body. The creak of the bed. The rustle of the sheets. The catch of her breath.

His body tensed. The pace became wilder.

His release built, knotting his spine, twisting his gut, tightening his balls to agony.

He lifted his head, and his throat clenched on a shout. Anguish. Shame. Possession.

Freedom.

One last thrust. His world ignited into fire.

He flooded her with his agony and his loss and his anger. His hips jerked as the crisis flung him into eternity.

For a long time, Gideon’s mind closed down to anything but the volcanic release.

He slumped over her, gasping for breath. There was only his quivering body, the gallop of his heart, the warm embrace of darkness.

He was utterly exhausted. Weary to the point of torpor.

Vaguely, he heard her make a sound of discomfort.

He tried to shut it from his mind. He belonged in this darkness. He wanted to stay here.

He’d acted like a beast.

The unwelcome knowledge nibbled at the blanketing stillness.

Oh, merciful God, what have I done?

With a groan of utter desolation, he pulled free and rolled onto his back. If he could trust his legs to carry him, he’d walk out.

He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his breath to steady and his heartbeat to resume its usual rate. Waiting for the world to crash in on him.

In spite of his howling conscience, his physical self relished what he’d done. The sheer power of the experience eclipsed every previous sexual encounter the way the sun outshone a candle.

He stirred, turned his head to look at Charis. The movement cost the last of his depleted strength. She’d drained him to the lees.

“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.

She was in profile. She licked her lips. The innocent movement sent a smoldering bolt to his loins. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite as exhausted as he had been.

She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. Knowing she lay bare beside him piqued his desire. He, on the other hand, hadn’t had the finesse to do more than tear his trousers open and have at her.

“Perfectly, thank you.”

Gideon frowned. Her polite, detached tone worried him.

Perhaps he really had hurt her. He leaned up on one elbow to see into her face. “I fell on you like a hungry dog on a bone.”

She stared upward. He wondered what her determinedly neutral expression concealed. Devastation? Fury? Pain? Oh, hell, don’t let him have done her injury. He’d been passionately unrestrained, and until two nights ago, she’d been a virgin.

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “You’re not shaking. You’re not sick. You’re not sweating.”

He frowned. “I’m worried about you. Forget about me.”

“
You
forgot about you.”

She sat up, drawing her knees up. The girlish grace of the movement captured his attention, stirred his interest. Then he realized what she’d said.

“Was that an experiment?” Resentment stirred under his concern. “You’ve got a bloody cheek.”

She bent so her thick hair fell forward, hiding her expression. “I couldn’t see how else to test if what I guessed was true.”

He scowled at her. “And got a right royal fucking in return.”

She jerked her head up and stared at him. He sucked in a shuddering breath, ignoring the shock on her face. His tone bit. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, madam.”

With a movement that shot another jolt of arousal through him, she shook back her untidy tumble of hair. A smile curved her lush pink lips. Lips which to his shame he hadn’t kissed, even as he’d slammed into her like a hammer.

“Of course I’m pleased with myself. I drove my husband wild with desire.”

He jackknifed onto his knees. If the habit of keeping his hands to himself weren’t so ingrained, he’d shake her until her teeth rattled. “What the devil…”

Her smile faded. “Gideon, you touched me.”

“Blast you, Charis, I did more than touch you. You deserve better.”

She grabbed his arm. “I don’t care what I deserve. I want you. However I can get you.” The smile reappeared. “And it was exciting.”

“Exciting?” He had trouble speaking. He felt like he’d en
tered a new universe, where nothing from the old one made sense.

“Of course it was exciting,” she said urgently. “You looked as if you’d die unless you touched me. You’ll do better next time.”

“Are you sure there will be a next time?”

“I’ve discovered your weakness.” Satisfaction warmed her voice. “When I’m naked, you’re powerless.”

The problem was the witch was right. Even now his cock stirred with interest.

She still regarded him with that faint enigmatic smile. “To think I ever doubted you wanted me.”

Foolish woman. He gave an unamused laugh. “I always want you. Damn it, Charis, I’m in love with you.”

A
ghast, Gideon stiffened.
Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. Why in the name of all that was holy did I say that?
He’d give his left arm to take back the words. But it was too late.

Violently, he tugged away from Charis and surged to his feet. He stalked across to scoop the discarded nightdress from the floor. With an angry gesture, he tossed it across the end of the bed.

He should have kept his blasted mouth shut. But the wild, uncontrolled sex had broken some barrier within him. The declaration he’d fought back for so long had surged up unstoppable as a king tide.

She started as if emerging from a daze. “You love me,” she whispered.

She stared at him with huge, shining eyes. Her lips parted. She looked so happy, he couldn’t bear it. Clearly the damage was done, and there was no point in telling her he’d lied. Although it would be better for both of them if she believed he had.

The harsh facts that put a life with her completely out of reach hadn’t changed, for all that every cell of his body ached with love for her. One bout of desperate passion didn’t change the cruel reality of his existence. He wasn’t a normal man. He’d never be a normal man. And if she pledged herself to him now, one day she’d regret that commitment.

He couldn’t bear to contemplate her love turning to hatred and disgust when she realized just what she’d sacrificed by walling herself away with her half-insane wreck of a husband. Her best chance of happiness was to establish a future far away from Gideon and his demons. But he could see what he’d just said made it less likely than ever that he’d convince her of that incontrovertible truth anytime soon.

Again, he cursed the impetuous declaration that forever changed the landscape between him and his beautiful, misguided wife.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a carelessness that even in his own ears sounded false.

A tiny frown line appeared between her brows. “Oh, Gideon.” She spoke his name with such deep compassion, he tensed with fuming resentment. He couldn’t endure her pity.

So he didn’t have to look at her, glowing, irresistible, he struggled to concentrate on doing up his trousers. His gloved hands shook so much that he fumbled hopelessly with the fastenings. It was like being in the grip of his affliction, except he trembled now not because he’d touched her but because he so badly wanted to.

During those dazzling moments in her arms, his world had come right. He could offer her a lifetime of misery while she was his only hope of happiness. That was his eternal burden. He couldn’t make her share it.

“I’ll ring for hot water,” he said with a studied neutrality that cost him more than he wanted to admit. At last he managed to close his trousers. “You’ll want to wash.”

“That’s it?” He still wasn’t looking at her, but he heard the irritation in her voice. “You take me to bed. You tell me you
love me. Then we just have breakfast as though nothing’s happened?”

He glanced up and tried not to notice how very…naked she was. “Charis, I wish you’d put on your nightdress.”

Her lips firmed with impatience. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He sighed and ran his gloved hand through his hair. “Nothing should have happened.”

“Why?”

“Will you put on the confounded nightdress?” he demanded in desperation.

She stretched out one slender arm, hooked up the silk garment, and slid it over her tousled head. “There. Is that better?”

“Not really.” He breathed hard through his nostrils and fisted his hands at his sides. He burned to take her again. Her defiance only fed his incessant craving. He was an insatiable satyr. If the girl had any sense, she’d run a thousand miles to get away from him.

“I don’t see why this is a problem,” she said stubbornly. “You love me. I love you.”

“You don’t love me,” he bit out.

She rolled her eyes. The sudden reversion to sulky schoolgirl would have summoned a smile if he didn’t feel like she flayed his soul.

“No, of course I don’t,” she said sarcastically. “I’m a stupid sparrow of a female with hardly brains to feed myself. And you’re so terrifically unworthy. The contemptible fellow dragged weeping out of a pit in India when any other man would have taken the trifles you’d endured in his stride.”

“Charis…” he said in a dangerously low voice. Her mockery cut him to the bone. Especially as it held an unfortunate echo of his genuine concerns. “You go too far.”

“Well, it’s all so absurd, Gideon.” She spread her hands in a frustrated gesture, the movement making her breasts jiggle enticingly under the sheer silk. His mouth dried, and his hands flexed as if they cupped those firm mounds.

“We love each other.” Her cheeks flooded with pink. “Why are you standing half a room away?”

A glance under her eyelashes sent blood sizzling through his veins. Damn her, she could give Circe lessons. He braced his shoulders as if only physical restraint stopped him diving on her.

“Because I can’t touch you without losing my mind,” he snarled, need thundering through his body.

She slid her legs over the bed and stood straight before him. “I touched you before, and you didn’t notice.”

“You…”

He started back as if she touched him now. He’d vaguely noticed she’d taken his arm. When was the last time he’d vaguely noticed even the merest contact with anyone?

Good God, could she be right about sexual excitement offering a reprieve? None of the doctors had suggested it. Ever since his rescue from Rangapindhi, he’d assumed he faced a life of eternal celibacy. Had he been mistaken?

He compelled his lust-fogged mind to review the facts. He’d just maintained extremely intimate contact with his wife. He was far from composed—he was fuming and upset and randy as hell. But if he felt ill, it was his conscience that troubled him, not memories of Rangapindhi.

As if she knew he at last took her idea seriously, she stepped forward and placed one hand flat over his heart. Her cheeks were brilliant with color. “Gideon, what just happened was so lovely. Let’s not spoil it by fighting.”

He tensed for the familiar sick reaction. There was only the warmth of her hand and the hardening of his cock, which definitely approved of her plan for a normal marriage.

“Lovely?” he forced out in blank astonishment.

Lovely and exciting.
His brain tried to make sense of what she said. Neither word seemed adequate to describe that earth-shattering sex. But he was human enough to be grateful she hadn’t found his untrammeled passion completely distasteful.

She nodded and sent him a smile that made his gut tighten
with the same lust that had got him in trouble only a short while ago. “Yes, lovely.”

Hope, so long a stranger in his life, inched into uncertain life. Was it possible he had changed? He could hardly bear to contemplate the idea. The sudden intrusion of light into the Stygian darkness of his life blinded him, left him bewildered.

Hardly believing he could, he lifted one gloved hand and placed it over hers. Through the fine kid, the heat of her skin was a distant echo of life and joy.

For a forbidden moment, he basked in the glow of her hazel eyes. His hand shook, but with emotion not physical weakness.

He found his voice, rusty, thick, unsteady. “Truce.”

He loved her.

Charis could hardly believe it. But Gideon’s quaking desperation as he clutched her hand to his chest convinced her it was true, perhaps more than actually hearing the words.

With that declaration, Gideon changed her world forever. Her heart rejoiced. She felt new, reborn, strong. At last there was a chance she could win what she wanted with all her soul for both of them. A life of happiness, a future at Penrhyn, children, contentment, peace.

She and Gideon spent the afternoon tooling around Jersey’s lanes in a hired curricle. When he suggested the outing, she’d leaped at the chance to escape their rooms. In the cramped conveyance, awareness tautened between them, but movement and air made the bristling atmosphere bearable.

Almost.

With a flourish, Gideon drew the vehicle to a stop on the crest of a hill. Below spread a vista of fields, with the sea silver in the distance. A breeze teased strands of hair from
under her bonnet. The gloomy weather had cleared, and the day was fragrant with coming spring.

He loved her.

The sun shone more brightly. The birds sang more fervently. The air brushed across her skin more sweetly.

“Oh, what a pretty place.” She risked tucking her gloved hand around his arm.

When he didn’t recoil, she leaned forward, deliberately rubbing the side of her breast against him. Surprised pleasure awoke as she heard his breath catch.

Those torrid moments in his arms had taught her so much. That she could drive him mad with need. That he could touch her with the deepest intimacy. That the sensation of her husband’s body pumping into hers was the purest excitement she’d ever known.

Now she was familiar with the scent of his arousal, the sound he made in his throat when he penetrated her flesh, his hard strength as he pounded into her. The experience hadn’t been entirely comfortable. He’d been rough, and she wasn’t yet accustomed to a man’s passion.

He’d thundered into her like a regiment of horses charging down an enemy position. She should have been terrified.

Instead, she’d loved every hot, sweaty minute.

She’d loved his body joining with hers. She’d loved seeing him a helpless slave to desire.

She wanted him to do it again. Soon.

His arm was rigid under her hold, but at least he didn’t pull away. “It’s good to get out of town.” Did she hear a trace of huskiness in his comment?

“The press of people worries you?” She turned to study him. He’d been preoccupied most of the day but to her relief, he showed no signs of illness. What happened this morning had clearly unsettled him. She couldn’t doubt he’d found physical satisfaction. But his mind was far from easy.

She curled her fingers around his arm, testing the unrelenting muscle. He was so strong and masculine. The heated
memory of him surging into her filled her senses. She felt her color rise.

He sent her a brief, assessing glance. “A little.”

It took her a moment to realize he answered her question. The problem with this plan to drive him out of his mind with lust was that she wasn’t exactly immune to his touch either. So difficult to focus on a goal when his mere presence turned her into a steaming pool of desire.

She reminded herself to be patient. This would be a long, slow siege, but victory would be worth it. For Gideon and for her.

“London must have been a nightmare.”

He looked over the horses’ heads, and his gloved hands tightened on the reins. “Yes.”

“How did you bear it?”

He shrugged. “I had no choice. The sovereign commanded. I obeyed. I drank. I took opium when liquor failed. I canceled what engagements I could. Tulliver and Akash helped.”

“And now there’s St. Helier.”

He smiled. “Believe me, St. Helier is much easier than London.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll soon be back at Penrhyn.”

Amusement sparked his dark eyes to starlight as he glanced at her. “Good God, madam, you sound like a wife.”

She met his gleaming gaze, shadowed under the curling brim of his stylish hat. He looked like a buck of the ton. Impossible to reconcile this elegance with the rumpled, satiated man from a few hours ago.

“I am a wife,” she said softly. For the first time, she almost felt like one. His eyes changed, focused, and her heart shifted in her breast. “I wish you’d kiss me,” she whispered before she reminded herself what trouble her propensity for blurting out her thoughts had already caused.

A taut silence fell. She waited for him to retreat as he had so often before.

The humor drained from his face, replaced by a concen
trated sensuality. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her breath escaped her parted lips on a sigh.

Her senses sharpened. The sounds around them suddenly seemed unusually loud. Birdsong. The sea’s distant roar. The jangle of harness as one of the horses shifted.

Then her heart’s furious pounding drowned out everything else.

Slowly, so slowly she thought she’d die with waiting, his face moved closer. His warm, moist breath feathered across her lips. She made a choked sound of yearning.

If he stopped now, she’d scream.

He closed his eyes and brushed his lips across hers. A glancing contact.

She growled with impatience and strained toward him. There was no sign of his usual reluctance for physical contact. She silently whispered a prayer of thankfulness.

“You’re teasing,” she said hoarsely.

Those lips she wanted on hers quirked. “A little. Take off your bonnet, so I can do this properly.”

Even through her yearning, she recognized how promising that sounded. With shaking hands, she untied the yellow satin ribbons and ripped the hat from her head. It was new and very stylish. Without hesitation, she dropped it to the curricle’s floor.

In a fever of anticipation, she watched him secure the reins, although the horses seemed happy to laze in the waning sun. He swept his hat from his head.

He must hear her heart’s furious beat, it was so loud. Her palms were moist. Nervously, she wiped them on her skirts. “Hurry,” she said in a shaking voice.

He laughed softly. The deep sound shivered through her. She squirmed restlessly on the seat.

Slowly—why, oh, why was he so slow? Couldn’t he tell she was in a lather of desire?—he lifted one hand to cup the back of her head. His gloved fingers speared through the hair at her nape.

“You’re so fierce,” he murmured.

“Don’t you like it?” She hardly knew what she said. All she knew was that he touched her as if nothing else in the entire world mattered.

“I didn’t say that.”

He lifted his other hand and placed it under her chin, holding her face angled up. Absurd when he must know evasion was the last thing on her mind.

“Gideon…”

An invitation. A protest. A plea.

“Shh.” A tender smile hovered around his lips.