Margo Maguire (10 page)

It was going to be pure torture.

He loaded his pistol, then gathered up the blankets from his bed and hoped he was not making a huge mistake. Spending the night with Christina was temptation personified. Knowing that she would be lying warm and soft and vulnerable in the bed only a few feet away from him, wearing naught but something feminine and delicate, could very well be his undoing.

He jabbed his fingers through his hair and reconsidered. Perhaps he ought to get Hancock up here with his muzzle loader and make him stand guard over her.

Dismissing the idea as soon as it came into his head, Gavin returned to Christina’s bedchamber. She unlocked the door and stepped aside, but not before he caught sight of the fragile chemise he’d imagined, lightly draping her incredibly feminine form.

His throat went dry and his hands ached to touch her. But he set down his blankets and the pistol, then went to the window that overlooked the front of the inn.

He tried not to think about the woman who stood behind him in the flickering light of the fireplace, or her willingness to share a room with him while barely dressed.

It had grown dark outside, so Gavin could not see any interlopers lurking about. If anyone was out there, they would want to remain hidden until all the lamps in the inn had been put out. That’s when trouble would begin, if the prisoners had any other accomplices.

He’d checked to be sure the inn’s doors were barred and the windows were all locked. Still, it was doubtful that he would get much sleep that night, concerned as he was about the possibility of more trouble.

And extremely aware of the woman who would be lying in the nearby bed.

“Is anyone out there?” Christina asked.

She was still standing near the door and Gavin knew it would be a very bad idea to turn and look at her. He wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her.

“Lady Fair—”

She moved, and he felt her beside him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just wondering if you would kiss me again.”

Chapter 10

C
hristina
could hardly credit that she’d actually asked him to kiss her. While she’d been
yearning for his touch ever since he’d kissed her in his room, he would not even
look at her.

She knew it was foolhardy. Possibly a little bit
mad.

It was what she wanted.

“Will you not even look at me?” She did not know
how she had the brass to speak so boldly to him.

“This is a very bad idea, Lady Fairhaven.” He
turned toward her as he said the words, and she saw a flicker of appreciation as
well as desire in his eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “But you made me feel
. . . I was never kissed in such a way and I . . .”

His hands were tight fists at his sides and his jaw
flexed once. He was going to refuse her, and Christina felt like an awkward,
foolish goose even for thinking she could seduce him.

“Such an absurd idea. Please forget I ever
mentioned it.” She swallowed and took a step back, blushing madly as she crossed
her arms over her chest. She knew she ought to say something else, something
about the incident with the thieves or perhaps a remark about the Crockers.
Anything to cover the clumsiness of the moment.

But she was tongue-tied and her throat felt as
though it was closing up with a thick, burning sensation. It was
mortification.

Dear Lord. She would not
succumb to tears.

She turned away quickly, before he could see the
moisture welling in her eyes. As soon as she composed herself she would tell him
he did not need to stay with her, that she would—

He grabbed her suddenly and pulled her back,
turning her as she fell against him. “Aye, it’s the most foolish idea you’ve had
yet.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, as though
he’d
been the one who’d hungered for her kiss, her
touch. His hands spread the heat of his body across her back, and when they slid
down to cup her bottom, she was lost. She wanted it. She wanted everything.

She opened her mouth under his and felt the
incursion of his tongue. He mastered her so easily, pulling her close,
thoroughly rousing her senses. She felt the hard evidence of his arousal as he
moved against her, and heard a gruff growl deep in his chest.

All at once, he lifted her into his arms and took
her to the bed, lowering her to the mattress as he came down half on top of her.
As he kissed her again, Christina heard the dull thud of his boots hitting the
floor. He shoved his jacket away, then pulled back to look at her.

“You had better be damned sure this is what you
want, Lady Fairhaven.”

She almost winced at his rough tone, and the
formality of her title. But there was a burning need inside her, a need only he
could assuage. She wanted him desperately.

Without breaking the contact of her eyes on his,
she answered by untying her chemise and slipping the sleeves from her
shoulders.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her
neck, then moved to her collarbones as he worked her chemise down. His lips and
teeth teased her sensitive flesh, and every coherent thought skittered from
Christina’s mind. He cupped her breasts and swirled his tongue around one
nipple, and she almost forgot to breathe.

Pleasure shot straight to her womb at his sensual
touch and Christina felt herself melting. His whiskers rasped against her skin,
and his breath was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. He slid his
hands down to her waist, pulling her chemise lower as he went, feasting on her
as though she were a banquet of something he found . . .
irresistible.

A tremor ran through her, not from being cold, but
from the heat they generated together. His big hands were hard and calloused,
but every bit as gentle—and knowing—as she’d imagined. He was so exquisitely
male—his scent and texture and the deep timbre of his voice—and Christina felt
wholly enveloped by his taut body.

She pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel his bare
skin against hers. He interrupted his ministrations for a moment and ripped his
shirt over his head, baring that superbly sculpted chest she’d so admired.

He was big, strong, and invincible.

He tugged at her chemise, and Christina lifted her
hips to allow him to dispense with it. She felt brazen and debauched and
thoroughly shameless when he came back to her, shifting his hands beneath her
hips, looking at her more intimately than she’d ever imagined anyone would
do.

His bold gaze was unspeakably arousing, and
Christina basked in the frank sensuality of his expression. He looked into her
eyes as he descended on her, lowering his mouth to her feminine mound.

He found an incredibly sensitive spot where he
kissed her, then used his tongue, swirling and licking until she was writhing
with need. Suddenly there was pressure, and she felt him slip a finger inside
her. He used his mouth and tongue, building her pleasure until it became
unbearable. Her nerves clenched tightly, pulsing as her muscles quickened and
contracted in wave after wave of pure sensation.

G
avin
needed to be inside her.

Watching her climax had nearly brought on his own,
like an untried lad still in school. The next time she came, he wanted to feel
her sheath tightening around his cock.

It was madness, he knew. But he would not stop now.
He tore off his trews and inched back up her body, kissing a path to her
magnificent breasts, and then taking her mouth. He covered her with his body,
slipping between her legs and positioning himself at the threshold of her
body.

His arms were trembling, and he was going to be a
raving disaster if he did not take the plunge now.

She cried out as he entered her and he stilled, his
brain in a fog of arousal, yet aware that it had been some time for her. His
heart pounded heavily in his chest, and after his moment of stillness, he could
not help but move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in.

And then he was lost.

She gazed up at him, her expression one of
astonishment. Gavin was barely aware of his thoughts, but something drove him to
satisfy her far better than her husband had ever done, to displace his memory
from her mind.

Using one hand to tilt her hips, he sank into her,
intensifying their contact. He began slowly, then increased his rhythm. She
writhed against him, tightening her legs around him. Her breathing became more
rapid than before, and the blacks of her eyes widened as he pushed her over the
edge once again.

Two more thrusts and he went along with her,
lowering his chest to her breasts. A deep rasp shuddered from his lungs as her
nails scraped his back and her body trembled and tightened around him.

Spasms of intense sensation pulsed through him from
the point where they were joined to the farthest reaches of his body. He quaked
against her, every inch a repository of pure pleasure and utter
satisfaction.

Her arms and legs slid away and she became boneless
beneath him, but he was not yet ready to withdraw from her.

He propped up on his elbows and looked down at her,
feeling shaken and not a little confused. He’d bedded a number of beautiful,
willing women, but could not recall any who’d been so frankly responsive.
Christina was made for a man’s touch, and if he was not mistaken, she possessed
far less experience than he’d have expected from a widow.

And yet she had thoroughly seduced him.

He had an impossibly strong urge to clasp her body
tightly to his, to press light kisses to her shoulders as she slept and hold her
against him all night.

What an idiot he was. Men such as he did not
entertain such mawkish inclinations. She was naught but a few moments’
diversion, a release that she’d wanted as badly as he. Now that they’d had their
tumble—

The sound of a crash somewhere below shook him from
his pathetic musings and he reacted instantly.

Jumping from the bed, he pulled on his trews and
shirt, then picked up his pistol. He went to the door and finally turned to
Christina. “Lock this after I go.”

C
hristina climbed out of bed and went to the door, quickly turning the
key in the lock. Her heart pounded nearly as hard as it had while Gavin was
making love to her, and she prayed desperately that he would return
unharmed.

She took her banyan from her traveling bag and
pulled it on before going to the window to look down at the entrance of the inn.
She could not imagine what had caused the noise that had driven Gavin from the
bed, but knew it could not be good.

Still, it could hardly be as astonishing as what
had transpired in this room only a few moments ago. If anyone ever learned of
it, she would be chastised. Thoroughly rebuked.

And yet she could not regret what had happened.
She’d never experienced the kind of passion Gavin Briggs had brought to her bed,
never known lovemaking could be so exciting, so incredibly
intimate
.

He’d touched every part of her body with his mouth
and hands, and he’d looked into her eyes so knowingly as he’d done it. He’d
brought her to completion twice—
twice!
—when she had
not experienced it even once with Edward.

The connection she’d felt with Gavin was
astonishing. He’d seen to her pleasure before his own, and though he was a far
larger man than Edward, had taken exquisite care not to hurt her.

She crossed her arms against her chest and banished
the unwelcome thoughts of Edward. Her selfish husband had barely given her a
thought while he was alive, so why should she spare him the slightest thought
now?

O
ther
doors opened and curious faces peered out.

“Stay in your rooms. Keep your doors locked,” Gavin
said. By the light of the sconces in the upper hall, he flew down the stairs and
rushed to the back of the inn where they’d locked up the prisoners. He found
Christina’s driver already out of the room he shared with Trevor, holding his
rifle at the ready.

Palmer rushed in just seconds after Gavin. “What
was that noise?” he asked, fastening his trews as he spoke. It was clear the man
had been jarred from his bed, just like Gavin.

Or perhaps not quite like Gavin. He could think of
nothing that compared to what had just happened in Christina’s bed.

“It came from in here,” said Hancock, tipping his
head toward the pantry.

Gavin glanced at the pantry door, which was still
securely locked. The prisoners were inside. Even if they managed to untie one
another’s wrists, they could not get out. Or, at least, he didn’t think so.

They heard a loud rap coming from inside. “Ye’ve
got te let us out o’ here, mate,” one of the men shouted.

“Not bloody likely,” Gavin muttered, feeling
angrier than he ought for being so suddenly routed from Christina’s bed. As much
as he might want to deny his romantic sentiments, he had not yet had his fill of
Lady Fairhaven.

He wanted a great deal more.

“They’re secure,” he said to the men. “Everyone can
go back to bed.”

He withdrew, making a quick check of every window
and door on the main floor . . . thinking it might be wise to delay
his return to Christina. He should not go back into her room, but the woman had
managed to beguile him as no other had ever done.

But Gavin did not harbor any delusions about his
place in society, nor would Christina. She knew he was a younger son, with no
fortune and few prospects, except what he could reap from her grandfather. She
had to know unsuitable he was. Even Amelia had realized it before he’d had a
chance to ruin both their lives.

He finally returned to Christina’s room and found
her wearing naught but the silky banyan that matched her eyes. It was cinched
tightly at her waist and covered her from neck to ankles, but did little to
conceal the shape of her breasts or their tips, puckering the fabric.

He was overwhelmed by the desire to take her back
to bed and repeat their earlier experience. She reached up to cup his chin and
her banyan gaped open, giving him a view of one luscious breast.

He could not resist sliding his hand inside as he
lowered his mouth to hers. She let the banyan fall to the floor just before
skimming her hands up his chest and into the hair at his nape.