Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Sweet Temptation
Other books by Leigh Greenwood:
BORN TO LOVE
WICKED WYOMING NIGHTS
WYOMING WILDFIRE
The
Night Riders
series:TEXAS HOMECOMING
TEXAS BRIDE
The Cowboys
series:JAKE
WARD
BUCK
CHET
SEAN
PETE
DREW
LUKE
MATT
The
Seven Brides
series:ROSE
FERN
IRIS
LAUREL
DAISY
VIOLET
LILY
S
weet
TEMPTATION
LEIGH GREENWOOD
Copyright © 1991, 2011 Leigh Greenwood
Table of Contents
London, November 1745
“I think you only love me for my breasts,” Clarice Wynburn said to her young lover, her tone a mixture of petulant rebuke and mounting desire. Gavin Carlisle had bypassed his usual ritual of flattery and the presentation of a gift, and gone straight to the true object of his visit.
“I love all of you,” Gavin muttered, as he fondled the warm flesh of his mistress’s generous bosom and teased the firming nipples with his fingertips. He was too far under the sway of hot desire to be drawn into an argument over which attribute of the well-endowed widow appealed to him most.
Even though Gavin’s virile presence made her tremble with desire, Clarice was not entirely mollified. “Sometimes I don’t think you care enough which woman is in your arms to look up,” she protested as she halfheartedly attempted to check his passionate advances.
“Are you afraid I might confuse you with someone else?” There was only a faint trace of a Scottish burr in Gavin’s deep bass voice, but it was clear he was more interested in planting kisses on the white skin of Clarice’s neck than attending to her answer.
“No,” she admitted, gazing at her lover out of eyes veiled to hide the caution and speculation in their depths, “but then, I always make sure no one else is about to distract your attention.”
“I haven’t been with another woman since Cumberland introduced us,” Gavin muttered, as his large, strong hand delved into the front of her dress. “I haven’t wanted to.”
Clarice had intended to make a more substantial complaint, but the effect of Gavin’s lips on her breast robbed her of any desire to halt his exploration, however briefly. She had been his mistress for almost three months, but she still had not accustomed herself to the marvelous perfection of his body or the fiery energy of his lovemaking. After marriage to a wealthy squire—who had providentially died before her youthful appeal could fade—Clarice was not about to waste time quarrelling over niceties of manner.
A knock at the door surprised them both, but Gavin didn’t pause in his attentions; when the knock came a second time, it was an intolerable irritation; when it came a third time, followed by the entrance of Clarice’s terrified maid, it was impossible to ignore. Gavin paused but remained where he was; Clarice sat up abruptly, hastily clutching her crumpled gown to her bosom.
“I have told you never to interrupt me!” she shouted in cold rage. “I’ll turn you off for this.”
“Please, Madame, I didn’t want to, truly I didn’t, but there’s this gentleman downstairs …” The flustered girl stopped, too overcome by her own embarrassment to continue.
“I’m already
with
a gentleman,” Clarice said in icy tones, “or do you think I should be the better satisfied with double rations?”
“No, Madame. I never would …” The silent laughter which shook Gavin’s six-foot length did nothing to improve Clarice’s temper.
“Get out and don’t bother me again.”
“But—”
“And no but’s!” screamed Clarice, flinging her discarded slipper at the overwrought maid. “Get out, or leave this house at once.” The beleaguered servant hesitated only a moment before closing the door.
“I wonder what that was about,” mused Gavin, a half smile on his lips as he resumed his exploration of Clarice’s body.
“Damn!” she exclaimed, still seething with anger. “There’s nothing to do but get rid of her. She’s a stupid creature, poor child, but she’s the best maid I ever had.”
“Why do you have to turn her off?” Gavin said idly, amusement dancing in his black eyes. “She didn’t bother me.
“So I noticed.” Clarice’s rich chuckle rolled from her effortlessly. “You acted like maids pop in on you all the time.”
“Maybe she would like to join us?” Clarice’s laughter erupted again despite the shuddering waves of sensual delight that were sweeping over her body.
“If you did to Janet what you’re doing to me right now, she would run screaming into the street.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re the one who’s in bed with me,” Gavin said as he tugged at her gown.
“I’d murder you if I caught you with Janet,” Clarice swore. She ran her fingers through his thick black hair and roughly drew his head to her bosom. His face was clear and smooth, with no rough beard to scratch her sensitive skin.
Gavin pulled Clarice’s badly wrinkled gown over her rounded hips.
“You could have waited for me to change.” But Clarice’s coyly voiced objection failed to conceal her satisfaction at Gavin’s impatience.
“I don’t mind helping,” he murmured, as his marauding lips ranged over her neck and shoulders.
“I think you like taking my clothes off,” Clarice whispered, biting his ear. “It makes you feel like a savage, dominating male.”
“You
make me feel savage,” Gavin muttered. “I’m a perfect gentleman at all other times.”
“I don’t want you to be a gentleman with me,” Clarice moaned suddenly, her whole being filled with a yearning as urgent as that of the male animal who was about to possess her.
Clarice raked Gavin’s strong mouth with her own, glorying in the heavily muscled power and lithe grace of the body that filled her arms. She was eager for him to satisfy the craving that suddenly shook her like the ague, and she clung to him, kissing his face with hot, hungry lips. She knew that no matter how perfect their first consummation, no matter how shattering its results, it was no more than a prelude. Gavin’s young, insatiable body demanded much more, and before the night was over, he would completely exhaust her with his demands.
All petulance and artifice gone, her eyes glazed with desire, Clarice abruptly turned toward Gavin, impatient to surrender to him without reservation.
The bedroom door opened again—there was no warning knock—and Clarice sat up with a convulsive start. “Hell and damnation!” swore Gavin, not nearly so sanguine this time.
“I regret the necessity of disturbing you at such a moment,” announced a male voice which reverberated with tightly controlled fury, “but I won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”
Gavin froze, his eyes not needing to seek the visitor’s face to know it was his father, the Earl of Parkhaven. His thrusting, seeking tendrils of desire withered into nothingness, as the Earl advanced toward the center of the room. Clarice cowered behind Gavin, reaching frantically for her discarded gown, but the Earl didn’t appear to be in the least disconcerted by the presence of a half-naked woman in his son’s arms; in fact, he didn’t seem to notice Clarice at all.
“I would never have intruded on you, if you had taken the trouble to answer any one of the several messages I have had sent around to your rooms,” the Earl began. “And please don’t tell me you were out of town, or that your valet only remembered it when you were stepping out the door,” he continued before Gavin could reply. “I’m only too well acquainted with your reluctance to answer any summons from me.”
“That’s because you never say anything I want to hear,” replied Gavin, not the least cowed by his imperious sire. “And your complaints about my style of living have become extremely irksome, not to mention entirely predictable.”
“And altogether ignored,” replied his father, favoring Clarice with such a fierce glare that the not-so-courageous beauty cowered behind her lover. “I had thought such overripe fruit must have lost its savor by now, but I fear I failed to take into account that though you are old in debauchery, you are young in appetite.”
Gavin struggled to keep his temper under control. “Say what you’ve come to say and get out,” he barked. “Your presence is damned inconvenient.”
“You have only yourself to blame. I would have much preferred to conduct the interview in less vulgar surroundings.”
“It cost me a fortune to have this place done,” Clarice exclaimed hotly, goaded into speech in the defense of her lavishly decorated boudoir.
“Be assured it suits you to perfection,” sniped the Earl.
“Thank you,” she replied, her indignant frown transformed into a gratified smile. “I worried for months over the colors.”
“Don’t be a simpleton. He’s not flattering you,” Gavin snapped before turning back to his father. “Stop baiting Clarice, and come to the point. Not even you can believe I would choose a mistress for her taste in hangings.”