The Duke's Night of Sin (16 page)

“No protests at all, eh?” Lord Wentworth chuckled.

“Lord Wentworth, ye’re aware I am Scottish.” Siusan played up her burr as the slightest bit of
warmth flushed her cheeks. “And, I have four brothers, mind you.”

“Four, eh?”

“Och, aye. And I understand the medicinal purposes of strong spirits quite weel.” She smiled, but in the darkness, she knew he could not see her.

Freezing to death with a bachelor. What a lovely ending Mrs. Huddleston’s columnist would have for his expository story about Miss Bonnet … more widely known as the scandalous Lady Siusan Sinclair.

Another shiver rattled her entire body.

Without a word, Lord Wentworth, most inadvisedly, took the reins into one hand and reached around her and pulled her closer to him.

She slipped her arm around his waist and snuggled against his chest. What did she care what the columnist or anyone else thought. They were alone in the middle of nowhere—freezing.

But he was warm. And caring.

And so ridiculously handsome. Siusan closed her eyes.

Driving snow spat in Sebastian’s face. He squinted against the onslaught, desperately struggling to focus on the road. His entire body tensed.

Disaster flashed in Sebastian’s mind. The carriage
sliding from an icy bridge and plunging into the freezing stream below. His hands tangled in the reins, holding him just inches beneath the rushing surface. Water filling his mouth. His lungs burning. Drowning.

The tragic death of the fourth Duke of Exeter.

He blinked hard and shook his head.
No, no. There is no bridge for miles. Do not think such thoughts. Just watch the road. Slow the horse. All will be well.

Miss Bonnet clung to him in her sleep. Her shivering had stopped, which he hoped meant she had warmed against his body, not simply fallen senseless from the cold, though he greatly feared the latter.

In the distance ahead, he could just make out the straight lines of a structure. He focused hard. Shook his head and tried to blink the snow from his lashes. There were no lights, but something was there. Shelter.

Rein in the horse.

His heart pounded with excitement, and he yanked hard on the reins. Too hard. The horse faltered, its front hooves slipping, failing to make purchase on the road. A cry screamed up from the beast as it began to fall.

The carriage lurched forward for an instant, then
jerked to the side, twisting as it overturned. The world seemed to slow as if in a dream—a nightmare. His body floated in the air for a moment, and he frantically reached out for Miss Bonnet, who was clinging to a hoop stick as the vehicle flipped.

He couldn’t reach her. Couldn’t help her.

He was on his back, but moving over lumpy terrain. His head was spinning as he ventured to open his eyes. He could see his legs and feet, dark forms against the snow, and realized he was being slowly dragged up a slope. Then, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness once more.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer moving. He could hear the wind shrieking and howling its fury, but he was somehow protected from it.

“Och, you are awake now.” Though he could not see her, he recognized Miss Bonnet’s lilting voice. “You gave me quite a fright, you know. You ought to be thanking the heavens you were born a hardheaded Englishman. But I reckon you will be just fine.”

“The carriage—” Sebastian was shaking with cold.

“Weel, it did not fare as well, I am afraid. I un-
tethered the horse because her attempts to stand kept moving the carriage overtop of you. Once I freed her, she bolted across the road. I suppose that was a good sign. She seemed unhurt. Mayhap we can find her in the morning. Eh?”

He felt her fumbling at his clothes. He caught her hand, stilling it. “Cold.”

“Aye, so I am. I am taking care of that, if you will permit me.” He felt something against his mouth. “Drink a little of this. For medicinal purposes. Go on. There’s not much left. I’ll finish the last drops if you cannot. It will help us both
feel
a little warmer at least.”

He released her hand and drank down what he could, then closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes this time, he was no longer dizzy but was oddly disoriented. He didn’t know where he was or why. All he knew was that he was naked. And that he wasn’t alone.

The weight of several blankets … and a woman wrapped him in delicious warmth. He did not know who she was, or how they had come to be in some sort of corn crib or shed, unclothed, but he really didn’t care at this moment. She felt too good lying half atop of him, pressed against him this way.

Beneath the blankets, he rode his hands down
the slope of her back and cupped his hands over the swells of her bottom. He pulled up, and she stirred in her sleep as he dragged her body over his. So soft.

As her full breasts crossed the crisp hair of his chest, her nipples hardened. The tiny curls between her legs caressed his shaft, and it twitched, awakening fully to her.

He raised a hand to her jaw and her mouth up to his and kissed her gently. A sleepy sigh of pleasure escaped her lips.

Sebastian rolled to his side, taking her along with him. He felt her lashes flutter. He brushed her hair from eyes and kissed her again. This time, she responded, and moved her lips over his.

God, how he wanted to touch every inch of her soft body.

He raised his hand and cupped her breast, letting his fingers linger over her ripe nipple. She moaned softly against his mouth, opening her own to him, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

This was maddening. He desired her—this woman he could not see, did not know—with a ferocity that startled him. He skimmed his hand down her body to the curls between her legs. His fingers grazed her moist folds, strumming her center.

She ran her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his tongue deeper inside of the slickness of her mouth.

She was arching into his touch, pressing hard against his hand. He skimmed his thumb over her heat, then slipped his finger into her sheath, sliding it slowly in and out. She gasped, bearing down on it. He moved a second finger inside her, curling them slightly forward, easing them in and out, arousing her, making her so hot, so wet. Her gasp became a moan and she bucked against him.

He could not delay much longer. He needed to feel his cock deep within her.

Sebastian pressed her gently onto her back, breaking the bond of their mouths. He slid down inside their blanket cocoon until his mouth reached her breasts. He flicked her nipples, one after the other, with the tip of his tongue, before kissing a trail lower and lower still.

She did not stop him. Instead, she set her hand on his shoulder, pushing him lower. He thrilled at this and let himself imagine that her passion this night rivaled his own.

He centered his mouth over the bud between her swelling folds, sucking her, lashing her with his tongue as he pumped her with his fingers.

Her body arched and shook. Her body rocked as though she thrashed her head from side to side above. He knew he’d brought her so close. Just a moment more.

Her fingers scrabbled at his back. Frenetically, she hooked her fingers through his hair and pulled him upward. His forehead hit her ribs momentarily. Not hard at all, but as agonizing pain ripped through his head and shot down his spine, he gasped. Dizziness assailed him yet again, and, for moment, his body slumped atop her.

“Sebastian!” He felt her arms slip under his shoulders, gripping him. “Dear God, Sebastian, answer me,
please!”

He tried to answer her. She sounded so frightened.
I am all right.
He said the words, heard them in his head, but he recognized nothing but the wind howling.

He couldn’t move. He was stunned and began to worry that something was very, very wrong with him.

“Sebastian,
please,
say something.”

He drew a deep breath and gradually felt his strength flowing back into him and a moment later, he slowly emerged from the blankets, blinking.

Though he stared in the direction of her face,
she was still cloaked in the icy darkness, but suddenly he really didn’t need to see her face to know the truth.

He’d been so wrong. He
did
know this woman. How had he not realized this? Knew every curve beneath him. Knew her kiss. Her taste.

“Bloody hell. I
know
you. Don’t I?”

S
iusan cringed the moment Lord Wentworth fell motionless atop her. How addlepated she was! In the throes of their passionate exchange, she had completely forgotten about his injury. He was hurt, and perhaps even dying for all she knew. Tears budded in her eyes.

Aye, he had
seemed
fully recovered. Strong. Willful. But he
had
received a substantial blow to his head, one hard enough to render him senseless. He had not bled, so far as she could tell in the darkness with only her fingertips to assess the seriousness of his injury, but a bump the size of
quail’s egg had risen just below his hairline. And, quite obviously, it was painful to the touch.

“I know you,” he said weakly.

“I-I beg your pardon. What did you say?” Her words sounded too loud, so completely out of place in the intimacy of the previous moment. She decided to say nothing more. Instead, she looped her hands under his arms and carefully guided him higher as he moved toward her face. She listened for his breath.

His raised his head from her chest and held the position for some moments, and she knew he was looking at her intently, though he did not say a word. She gently placed her hands on the sides of his cheeks, angling his chin down so that she might kiss his forehead softly, just beside the bump. Calming. Soothing.

Again, she felt his chin lift. Felt his eyes burning down upon her even in the cold black of night.

“I
know
you.” His voice was deep and husky, strained. Still unsure.

“Aye, you do.” Confusion clouded Siusan’s mind. He seemed to have recovered after the carriage crash, and yet something was very, very wrong.

“Though … I do not know your name.” He leaned his face closer and nipped at her bottom lip.

Lack of her name didn’t seem to reduce his passion. Now. However, she was sure something was dreadfully wrong. Siusan pressed up on his shoulder, straightening her arms like braces. A flood of icy air flowed between then, stinging the moistness between her spread thighs. “Aye, you do know me, my lord, but my name is unknown to you? Can you not remember?” Her temples throbbed with concern.
Dear God.

“I remember
you.
I remember everything about you.” She heard him swallow. Was he beginning to realize the inconsistency too? “I remember everything, except your name. Though, I never knew it, did I?”

Were it light, he would have seen Siusan’s eyes widen in shock until they stung. She wasn’t sure if he was being nonsensical, or if somehow he had learned that in truth her name was not Miss Bonnet.

Gooseflesh prickled his skin, and he began to shiver violently. Siusan bent her arms and drew him back to her, nestling him against her skin and tightening the blankets around them both.

The moment he was pressed to her, it was as though nothing had changed. He began kissing her throat, and he wedged a hand beneath her in the small of her back. She felt his hardened sex
pressing against her belly. Felt him move his hips lower, seeking and finding the damp folds between her legs.

She wanted him, this much was true, but not now. Hot tears sprang up in her eyes. She hadn’t the brandy to blame for her wanton behavior this time. She hadn’t had more than a few nips, only enough to make her feel a little warmer.

She could not even blame her lust on missing Simon. Now that she really pondered it, since the moment Lord Wentworth came to Bath, she hadn’t even considered her late fiancé. Och, she was as sinful as everyone claimed.

There was nothing to blame except herself—her weak, smitten-with-Lord-Wentworth self, nothing more. All it took was to feel his naked, muscled body against hers, and she ached for him. Urgently wanted to feel him inside her, moving, pleasing, claiming her, no matter the circumstance.

And she thought he felt the same thing for her.

Apparently, he did. She felt his sex twitch, waiting for her to spread her knees wider. To invite him deep into her sheath. It was clear he wanted her.

Och, this was all so wrong. He’d hit his head and was not in his right mind. “Aye, I want you too. But not like this. Not when you do not even know my—” She closed her mouth and, instead
of speaking, caressed his cheek, soothing him, whispering hushing sounds in his ear. “You only need my warmth. We need each other’s heat tonight. That is all.” She guided his head to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder, then wrapped her arms around him. “Go to sleep, my love,” she whispered, belatedly startled by her own words.

My love.
Where had that come from? Even in the chill night, she felt hot blood rise into her cheeks.

“Go to sleep. All will be well in the morning.”

She felt him nod, his muscles relax, but his hand moved over her breast and rested there. Maddeningly, his erect sex remained poised at her moist opening. And in that position, he drifted off to sleep. She tried to nudge him back, just a bit, but he moved back into place.

Oh, good God.
There would be no more sleep for her. Not as aroused as he’d made her, not with him touching her so intimately even now.

Nay, there’d likely be no rest for the wicked this night.

The light cutting through the plank walls of where Sebastian found himself was glaringly white and sparkling in the morning sun. He closed his eyes again.
Too bright.
And, damn, how his head throbbed.

He moved his hand to bring it to his eyes, when he felt something warm and soft beneath it give and pebble as the icy air touched it. He opened his eyes to mere slits and gazed across pale smooth skin. A breast. His face was wedged against a long neck, and, from the welcoming, familiar sensation, he was lying between a woman’s silken thighs.