Taste of Temptation (14 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Holt

Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction

BOOK: Taste of Temptation
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“What happened between us,” she stammered, “was an ... aberration.”
“Is that what you’d call it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’d call it incredible.”
She gulped with dismay. “You would?”
“Yes, and I want to do it again.”
He swooped in and swept her off her feet, depositing her on a nearby divan. He came down on top of her; with the furnishing being very narrow, there was no space to shift away.
She gazed at his handsome face, his blue eyes glittering with merriment, and her heart literally skipped a beat.
“Are you going to kiss me?” She was breathless with anticipation.
“Most definitely, Helen.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“Now that, my dear, has to be the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”
He narrowed the distance between them, initiating a torrid kiss that was rough and wild and thrilling.
His tongue was in her mouth, his hands in her hair, and he kept on and on till she was dizzy with titillation. He slid to the side, a knee on the floor, as he toyed with her breast, teasing the nipple through the fabric of her dress.
Vaguely, she recognized that he was easing her skirt up her legs. Her calves were bared, then her thighs. He slipped his questing fingers into her drawers and delved into her womanly sheath. They seemed to fit just right, as if he’d been created to caress her that exact way, and she was so surprised that she gasped very loudly.
He chuckled. “I knew you’d be noisy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Deep down, you have the temperament of a harlot.”
“You’re calling me a harlot? Is that what passes for a sailor’s flattery? If so, I don’t care for it.”
“Have any of your
dozens
of swains ever touched you like this?”
“Nary a one.”
“Then I am delighted to be the first.”
He stroked back and forth, back and forth, as he nibbled a path to her nipple. He bit and sucked at the tiny nub, sending waves of exhilaration shooting through her. She writhed against him, trying to escape the torment, but trying to move nearer to it, too.
Suddenly, she seemed to shatter, and she cried out with an exuberant joy that was shocking in its volume. He captured the sound by smothering it with another kiss.
She spiraled up, then floated down, and she was laughing and sputtering, happier than she could ever remember being.
“Oh, my goodness, Captain Odell, what was that?”
“It’s sexual pleasure, you vixen.”
“You’re a sorcerer.”
“There was no magic involved. You are simply too easy for words.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. You’re loose, too.”
“Only because you goad me into misbehavior.”
“Trust me: There’s been no
goading
on my part.”
“Ha! That’s what you think.”
He kissed her again, and he sighed, murmuring, “What on earth shall I do with you?”
“Why must you
do
anything?”
“I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t be tumbling you in my library every time you stroll by.”
She giggled, loving the notion that he was smitten. How had it happened?
Why
had it happened?
They were playing a dangerous game, and she had to extricate herself, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to lie there forever, where she felt safe and beautiful and adored.
She was so wrapped up in her lurid rumination that it took a moment to realize someone was pounding on the door.
“Captain, are you in there?” Mrs. Seymour barked.
Odell’s eyes went wide, and he grinned, apparently humored by their predicament. He thrust his loins against hers, setting off a new round of bodily sensation, as Seymour rattled the knob.
Frantically, Helen gestured for him to move off her, but he didn’t budge.
“Yes, Maud, what is it?” he queried.
“I was wondering if you could spare me a minute.”
“No. I’m having my daily meeting with Miss Hamilton.”
There was a lengthy, tense silence as Mrs. Seymour processed the information.
“Will you be long?” she finally asked.
“At least an hour.”
Helen vehemently shook her head and whispered, “I’m leaving immediately.”
“No, you’re not,” he countered, whispering too.
“How about if I come back then?” Mrs. Seymour tried again.
“I’ll send the butler to notify you when we’re finished.”
“Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Seymour persisted, “I’ll need to speak with you, as well. About the problem with Rose’s clothing.”
“I’ll find you as soon as the captain lets me go,” Helen promised, nearly yelping with indignation as Odell bit her nape. She punched him on the shoulder.
“We must resolve this matter today,” Seymour snapped.
Helen held her breath, fuming, as Seymour’s footsteps faded.
“You rat!” she hissed, pushing him so that he toppled onto the floor. “You were deliberately trying to compromise me!”
“You’re angry? An accomplished flirt such as yourself? This can’t be the first time you were caught in a locked parlor, up to no good.”
He picked himself up, dusting off his trousers, laughing at her fury, which only increased it. He looked thoroughly composed, not a wrinkle in his coat, not a strand of hair out of place, while she was an utter mess.
Her combs had been dislodged, so her hair was falling down. Her skirt was bunched, her garters undone, her stockings drooping to her ankles. She tugged and straightened and yanked as he calmly observed, but provided no assistance whatsoever.
“You are a menace,” she charged.
“And you are cute as the dickens.”
“You are a beast, a cad, a ... a ... debaucher of innocent women.”
“Innocent? You?”
“Yes, me.”
He chortled as if she’d told a great joke. “You humor me beyond measure. I thought I hated it here—”
“Where?”
“In this house. In London. But I’m beginning to change my mind.”
He hated it in London? He didn’t like watching over his siblings?
The gossiping servants hadn’t shared this piece of his story, and she was meddlesome enough to have inquired, but he halted any questions by wrapping an arm around her and kissing her again.
In a trice, she was a muddle of confused yearning, so eager to continue that she was a hairsbreadth away from flopping back onto the divan and dragging him down with her.
She put a hand on his chest and eased him away.
“We didn’t discuss any topic of import,” she said. “If you keep mauling me, how will we ever get anything accomplished?”
“What did we need to discuss?”
“Rose gave Amelia some of her old dresses to wear.”
“I don’t care about their girlish games.”
“Mrs. Seymour was upset. There was a kerfuffle over it.”
“Of minor significance. Rose obviously intended a gift, but how does Amelia feel about receiving Rose’s castoffs?”
“She understands that we can’t afford to purchase new.”
“That reminds me: All three of you need more clothes.”
“You’ve already been more than generous.”
Without her having an inkling of his ploy, apparel had been delivered. The outfits weren’t the height of fashion, but they were well-sewn and functional, and Helen still couldn’t come to grips with his unexpected kindness.
“You’re guests,” Odell said. “You can’t go about like a trio of paupers. It would reflect badly on Lord Hastings.”
“Don’t buy us anything else,” she insisted.
“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. My clerk has made you an appointment with a dressmaker.”
“Captain Odell! No. You’ve done too much.”
“It pleases me to see you in pretty gowns. Stop complaining.”
“You never listen to me.”
“If you called me Tristan, I might.”
“Liar.”
She started for the door, and he followed her over and gallantly opened it. He peeked out, and with the hallway being empty, he took a parting kiss.
She inhaled sharply, outraged by his brazenness but delighted by it, too. She was in desperate trouble, walking the road that led straight to perdition, but she wasn’t concerned in the least.
“We’re traveling to the country next week,” he mentioned.
“I had heard that you were. Am I going, too?”
“Yes. You and your sisters.”
She wasn’t sure about making the journey. It would place her in even closer contact with him, and she didn’t relish the prospect of constantly hiding, which would be the only way she could force herself to behave.
“Must we go?” she asked.
“Yes, you must, and in the meantime, inform Jane that she must stay away from Lord Hastings. I can’t have her flirting with him.”
“She wouldn’t. She knows better.”
“Don’t forget that we have a date for supper.”
“I’ll see you at eight.”
“At eight,” he murmured.
They stood, staring like two enamored adolescents, until Helen realized how she was mooning over him—in plain sight, where anyone could stumble on them.
Was she insane?
She turned and fled.
 
 
“DID you see that?” Rose whispered.
“I did,” Amelia whispered in reply.
They were huddled at the top of the stairs, spying on the adults down below.
“He kissed her!”
“I know. I saw!”
Both girls had to stifle giggles.
“Do you think they’re in love?” Rose asked.
“Of course they are. They wouldn’t be kissing if they weren’t.”
“Will they get married now?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be sisters, won’t we? We’ll be together forever.”
They clasped hands and smiled.
Chapter 8
“BONJOUR, Bonjour!
Please,
mes petites,
come closer. Take a look.”
Phillip Dudley laid on thick his French accent, welcoming the group of four young ladies to his wagon. The door was propped wide, his array of bottles and jars carefully arranged for eye-catching effect.
“What may I get for you? A love potion, perhaps?”
The two younger ones giggled, turning toward the oldest one, and he smiled as he saw that he knew her.
“Miss Hamilton?”
“Hello, Mr. Dubois.”
“Who are your charming companions?”
“My sisters, Jane and Amelia, and our friend, Lady Rose Seymour.”
“I am honored!” He gave a theatrical bow, which initiated another chorus of giggles. “What brings you down to the harbor? Is it because you wish to sample more of my wares?”
“Actually, we’re visiting a ship. My employer is a ship’s captain, Mr. Tristan Odell. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
“I have, as a matter of fact. Isn’t he guardian to Lady Rose and her brother?”
“Yes, he is, and he’s invited us on board for a tour.”
“My,” he mused, “aren’t you stepping in high company all of a sudden?”
“I certainly am.”
“If you’re working, you must have had some good luck since we last met.”
“My situation has improved dramatically.”
He could see that it had. Earlier in the summer, she’d been bedraggled and exhausted and hadn’t had a penny in her pocket. He’d feared for her, but over the course of a few weeks, she’d blossomed.

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