The Virgin Huntress (11 page)

Determined not to give him any satisfaction, Vesta bit her lip with the first stinging blow, the thin linen shift doing little to buffer the contact of calloused palm to tender backside.

“That one’s for the stunt in Hyde Park. And here’s another one for the laudanum that gave me such a hellish headache.” The second
whack
brought tears to her eyes, and then he delivered a third for having to retrieve her from the crow’s nest. This one almost made her cry out. Her bottom smarted like nothing she’d ever experienced. She looked back over her shoulder to see him raise his hand again. “Stop! You’re killing me!”

“Killing you?” Hew laughed. “Hardly. This is for your own good, sweetheart. A kick from the dam never hurt the colt, after all. I think a fourth is definitely deserved for this last little feat.” He grunted as his hand connected.

Her shift had ridden up with her struggles, leaving her bare flesh vulnerable to the next painful smack. Already burning and tingling as if she’d sat in a field of stinging nettles, she braced herself. But then Hew paused. She thought he would finally release her until she heard him mumble. “Perhaps one more, just for good measure.”

The next thing she knew, she hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. She scuttled away from him like a crab, feeling as if she could commit murder. Once she had a moment to compose herself, she rose from the floor, rubbing her backside, but the burn only seemed to worsen. She turned to the mirror on the wardrobe and raised her shift to inspect the angry, red hand-shaped welts that marred her skin.

“Just look what you’ve done to me!” she cried, turning her bared backside to him.

“’Tis no less than you deserved.” He growled, his gaze seeming to linger on the welts.

She noted with satisfaction the flare of his pupils and the hoarseness of his voice. “Is this how you think to handle your wife?” she demanded. “Polly warned me about beasts like you!”

“Beasts, eh?” Hew rose and advanced toward her with a menacing look.

“Yes, men who subjugate with brute force. Do you handle your horses this way, as well? Do you beat
them
into submission?”

“Do you
truly
wish to know how I would handle a rogue horse, Vesta?”

There was a new look in his eyes, one she had never seen before. It was somehow dangerous and exciting. She licked her lips and swallowed as she backed her way across the room. “I think you’ve already demonstrated.”

He advanced on her, slowly, calmly, deliberately. “Pray disabuse yourself of that notion, my pet, for the crop is
never
my method of choice.”

“No? Then what is your method of choice?” she asked. Vesta found her heart racing and her breath coming faster. This was not the Hew she knew. This was a decidedly more dangerous version. He made her stomach flip and her blood race through her veins, a sensation Vesta liked very much. He had backed her against the wood paneling, his arms braced on either side of her, trapping her in between. Vesta’s breath seized as the sexual tension flared, alive and pulsating between them.

“I have found only
one
effective way of dealing with a recalcitrant mount,” he said, dipping his head so his deep blue eyes bored into hers. Vesta forced her breath out slowly even as her heart rate accelerated.

She swallowed hard. “And that is?”

“By riding it to exhaustion.”

“Then, Captain Hewett DeVere,” she whispered. “Do your worst.”

***

They stood as if carved of marble just watching each other breathe, the current of mutual desire swirling around them, pulling them deeper into its perilous depths. Hew’s heart slammed against his chest as he fought to regulate his breathing. His entire body had gone rigid, every muscle tensed with physical awareness of her. He couldn’t fathom what devil had made him speak so indecently to an innocent girl, but he’d never before experienced such strong emotions as Vesta seemed to ignite. Then she once more dropped the gauntlet.

His mouth came down on hers without any thought or care beyond the deep-seated need to finally subdue and conquer this slip of a girl who had challenged, defied, and thwarted him at every turn. But her lips met his with the same challenge, the same defiant passion with which Vesta did everything. She met him hungrily, fiercely, and boldly seeking. When he probed her lush lips, she parted willingly, eagerly seeking his tongue with hers. Twining and tangling, slick and sliding, their mating of tongues sent jolts of rampant sensation to his groin.

She looped her arms around his neck with a sigh, pressing her lush mounds against his chest and kissing him more deeply, as if engaging her very soul. He felt himself growing thick and hard. She felt it too, for her breath hitched, and then her pupils flared with the knowledge of his arousal. He broke the kiss and lowered his hands to cup her breasts through the thin linen of her shift. Caressing the hardened peak of her nipple with his thumb, he watched her respond.

Vesta gave a soft moan and arched into him with boldness. He lowered his head to her breast, licking the shadow of nipple through her shift and pulling it into his mouth, smiling to himself when she cried out and clutched his head. But it wasn’t enough, he had to have more. So much more. He tugged at the ribbon bow that secured the loose garment, and it slithered from her shoulders, baring for his pleasure the lovely, white mounds of femininity he’d only glimpsed but had continued to fantasize about. She made a low, supplicating sound.

He lowered his head at her urging, kissing and licking the silky skin he had only dreamed of, and Hew felt himself slipping irretrievably deeper into the black vortex of desire. She reached for him, cupping his straining cock through his breeches, giving it an experimental squeeze, and Hew thought he would go mad.

No, rather than vanquishing the foe as he had strategized, he found himself surrendering to the powerful lure of pure lust from which he no longer desired escape. After years of practicing ironclad self-restraint, he was ready to give himself up to the carnal desire he had so long suppressed and to experience what he’d withheld from himself for twenty-eight years.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

Vesta thought she hated Hew after he’d spanked her, but it only took the first brush of his lovely lips to divert her from the sting of her bottom. He was so big, strong, handsome, and honorable...and altogether delicious. And he wanted her. She could see it flickering in the depths of his beautiful, blue eyes; she could feel it thick of the air surrounding them, his desire for her and hers for him. She wanted nothing more in the entire world than to surround herself with Hew.

He stroked her lips with his tongue, and her own darted out to meet it, making her stomach flips commence. He smelled wonderful, pungent of sea air, shaving soap, and the unmistakable and unforgettable essence of Hew. How she wanted to drink him in with her entire being. She was unashamed when he untied her shift, too preoccupied with thoughts of what he intended to do to her and how badly she wanted to please him. She had never been touched in this intimate way. His hands on her bare flesh were warm, yet soft and rough at the same time and then his mouth!
Dear heavens!
Kissing him made her head spin, but then when he suckled her breast, the pleasure of it nearly sent her into transports. Dearest, most darling, delectable Hew.

He kissed her again, deeper, pulling her closer until she felt the hard ridge of him against her belly, and she had the overwhelming need to touch it. She pressed her palm to his sex, and his eyes fluttered. She squeezed, and he groaned. His reaction to the smallest attention filled her with a mad yen to do more, to hold it in her hand, to caress and stroke as she had seen him do. She knew he was uncomfortable, for he had confessed as much.

“Please, Hew,” she coaxed. “Let me touch you. I want to. Show me how to bring you relief.”

“Oh, I intend to show you all right.” His eyes were dark and his voice hoarse. Suddenly, she was in his arms and being carried to the bed. He laid her down gently and tore off his shirt. He fumbled with the buttons of his breeches. She noted the trembling of his hands.

“Here,” she said. “Please, let me.” Vesta’s pulse skittered as he stared down at her, his eyes glittering from beneath hooded lids. She popped the last button, and his arousal jutted into her hands. It was large and hot and hard, but the skin was silky soft. She stroked her fingers along his length, and he grabbed her wrist with a hiss.

“Please, just give me a moment,” he said with a gasp.

She looked up at him in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Gad, no.” He shook his head. “It’s just...I’ve never... Damn it, Vesta, I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just not accustomed to being touched by someone else. It’s very strange to me.” Hew flushed deep crimson. “Please understand that I’m not entirely ignorant, but I have avoided certain things, to defer that pleasure for the sanctity of the marriage bed.”

“Do you mean, you have never? Ever?” Vesta asked, incredulous.

“No. I have not. I have abstained from sexual congress.”

Vesta felt her whole face, her entire being ignite with joy. “Then you mean you are
all
mine and only mine?”

Hew chuckled. “I am delighted that you perceive it thus, for I had looked forward to the same declaration.”

“But, Hew, you
know
I am only yours,” she whispered. “I was from the very moment I saw you. It’s just taken you so very long to know you are mine as well. But now you will be. In every way.”

“Yes, Vesta,” he said, his voice growing low and husky again. “I have waited a very, very long time for this. So know that if you give yourself to me now, there is no turning back. And if I take you, I intend to have you in every possible way.”

His face looked taut with strain; his chest rose and fell erratically. The pulse jumped in his neck. And his suggestion, wicked and wanton, caused a pool of heat to descend low in her belly. “Yes, Hew,” Vesta whispered, her heart fluttering and her voice breathless. “I wish only to please you...in every possible way.”

“Then know also that you
will be
my wife.”

“Yes, Hew,” she said on a sigh. “I will be your wife.”

It seemed to be the answer he sought, the reassurance he required, for he summarily shed his breeches and joined her on the bed, pressing her into the mattress. She reached for him, but he took her hands in his own, entwining their fingers and raising them over her head.

“While I cherish your enthusiasm, my dear, I want this to be pleasant for you too.” His lips brushed her cheek. “But it may not be if you do not give me full rein. Please, Vesta,
for both of us
, let me get to know your body and worship you at my own pace.”

With those sweet words tickling her ear, Vesta closed her eyes and willed herself to passivity, sinking into the warm cocoon of his tender lovemaking as he feathered her face and neck with light kisses, his lips and tongue tickling and teasing until he found her mouth. He playfully kissed the corner. She opened her eyes and turned into him, seeking his mouth, and he pulled away with a reproachful look.

“I understand,” she said, and he smiled back at her, testing her again as his lips met hers, first brushing, then melding, nipping, tasting, pulling her lower lip between his own. It was heavenly to be the object of such devotion, to be the recipient of his full and complete attention. It was what she’d dreamed of, and yet it was indescribably better than she ever could have imagined it to be.

“I love the smell of you, Vesta,” he murmured, rooting her neck, his stubble slightly abrading her skin, making every inch of it come to life as he worked his way to her collarbone, tracing it with his fingers, kissing it from neck to shoulder and back, and then pausing to dip his tongue into the little hollow between. His hands had found her breasts again. He cupped and squeezed and filled her belly with queer and delightful sensations, but then his mouth...his glorious, hot, wet mouth followed. He was gentle at first, licking her nipples, tracing the tight buds with his tongue. She squirmed against him, willing him to do more, and he pulled back. “No, Vesta,” he said. “You must be still for me.”

“Please, Hew,” she whispered.

“Close your eyes.”

“I will. Come back. I’ll be still, just please don’t stop again.”

He placed his mouth on her nipple and drew it in, but then he seemed to grow ravenous, sucking and pulling until she whimpered. And then he went to the other. His hard thigh was wedged between her own, creating the most agonizingly sweet pressure against her sex. He suckled her breast, and the pressure became a throb of need. She ground her hips against his, seeking relief, and he released her nipple with an abrupt little pop that left her feeling breathless and bereft.

“Now, Hew. You are torturing me,” she whimpered. “You must do something. Please,” she begged, “just take me. Take me now.”

“I do not think you are ready,” he said.

“But I am,” she protested.