Two Sinful Secrets (29 page)

Sophia was utterly shocked. She had never seen Dominic’s handsome, taciturn brother
reveal so much as a flicker of emotion. And she had never seen her elegant cousin
so discomposed. What was happening here?

Elizabeth shook her head. A red flush across her cheekbones had cut through the paleness.
“Nothing at all, Sophia. Just a moment of dizziness.” She smiled bravely, but it looked
shaky. Sophia saw that her hand was trembling as she reached up to straighten her
hat.

“Elizabeth…” Sophia began, but her cousin cut her off.

“I’m fine. This is your wedding day, a happy day.”

Sophia glanced at Brendan, but he had turned his back to them to face the altar. Something
was definitely going on between the two of them, but Elizabeth was right—this
was her wedding day. She couldn’t think about anything else.

She walked down the aisle with Dominic until they stood together in front of the altar.
The vicar smiled and opened his prayer book.

“Dearly beloved…”

W
elcome aboard, Mrs. St. Claire. I hope we’ll have a calm voyage for you across the
channel. A bit of a honeymoon, eh?”

Sophia laughed as she remembered the affable captain’s greeting as they stepped aboard
the ship that would carry them home.
Mrs. St. Claire.
It sounded so strange. So brand-new and shiny. Would she ever become accustomed to
it? She never had quite gotten used to Mrs. Westman. Now she had to be someone else
entirely.

She looked around the small cabin where she had been shown, alone. Dominic had to
talk to his brother before they departed, since Brendan had decided to stay behind
in France at the last moment, and Elizabeth had retired to her own cabin with a headache
after being quiet and watchful all afternoon. But Sophia didn’t mind. She needed a
quiet moment to gather her thoughts. It had been such a whirlwind day she still felt
dizzy with it.

She examined the space where she was meant to spend her wedding night. It was small
but comfortable, the wide berth made up with a quilted comforter and plump pillows,
and a table and two chairs set up near the porthole.
A plate of fruit and cheese was laid out there, along with a bottle of champagne in
a silver bucket. Her trunk stood next to the wall, by a tall washstand laid out with
linens.

Sophia set her bouquet and lace shawl on the table and went to unlatch the porthole.
As she swung it open, a rush of cool, faintly salt-scented air swept into the cabin.
The sun was setting over the town, a blaze of pink and orange-gold. Soon they would
set sail for England and a new life. A new horizon.

Sophia rubbed at the back of her neck, which suddenly ached at holding up her heavy
hairstyle. She turned to the small, round mirror on the wooden wall and loosened the
myriad pins Elizabeth had used to secure it all. She managed to unbutton a few inches
of her bodice, and the pink silk slid away from her shoulders as her hair fell down
her back. The sea breeze touched her skin, and she shivered.

Suddenly the cabin door opened, and Sophia glanced back to see Dominic standing there.
He smiled at her and let the door swing shut behind him, enclosing them in their own
quiet world.

“I thought it would be impossible for you to be more beautiful than when I saw you
at the church,” he said. “But right now you are.”

Sophia laughed and turned away to shut the porthole against the encroaching night.
The ship rocked softly under her feet, and she could feel Dominic watching her as
her loosened gown slipped lower.

“It was a lovely wedding,” she said. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I’m just sorry there wasn’t time to make it as grand as you
deserve.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted anything else.” Sophia turned around to face him again. “It
was exactly right.”

He crossed the small cabin in two strides, his green eyes dark with intent. Before
Sophia could breathe, his arms came around her and drew her close. One hand deftly
slipped the rest of her buttons free and drew her gown away until it fell into a silken
puddle at her feet.

Sophia closed her eyes as she felt him draw down the edge of her corset, and his hand
gently caressed her bare breast. One roughened fingertip circled her nipple, closer
and closer until at last it brushed her soft, aching tip. Sophia moaned, her head
falling back as she arched closer to his touch.

“No one could be more beautiful than you, Sophia,” he whispered hoarsely, and he held
on to her as his head lowered to take her nipple deep into his mouth. “My beautiful
Mrs. St. Claire.”

Sophia buried her fingers in his hair and held on to him as the tension inside her
grew tighter and tighter, until she was sure she would snap.

“And I think that
you
are overdressed for the occasion, Mr. St. Claire.”

She pushed his coat off his shoulders until he shrugged it off, then she reached for
the buttons on his waistcoat. When it was gone, she moved back a step to let him discard
his shirt as she undid the fastenings of his trousers.

She eased the soft wool down until his hot cock was free to her touch.

“Sophia,” he said tightly.

She shook her head. “Shh, just be quiet now. Let me attend to my wifely duties.” When
he fell silent, his whole body held under rigid, still control, she slid down his
tall, hard length until her knees rested on the soft carpet.

Lightly, teasingly, she fluttered her fingertips down his
erect penis. It was heavy under her touch, pulsing with need, and something dark and
secret deep within her responded to that primitive need. Everything around her turned
blurry and hot, dreamlike.

Sophia eased the tip of her tongue over him, tasting the warm saltiness of his flesh.
He groaned, and the deep sound seemed to shimmer through her. She felt his whole body
go tense as she took him fully into her mouth and twined her tongue around him.

His hips jerked under her kiss. She felt his hands in her hair as he pressed her closer,
but then suddenly he pulled away and fell back a step.

“Sophia, I can’t stand it,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “I need you right now.”

“I need you, too,” she whispered. Dominic fell to his knees beside her and caught
her in his arms as their mouths met in a raw, hot kiss full of pure need.

She felt him pull her down, until their kiss broke and she lay on her elbows and knees.
She felt him move behind her, his hands touching her breasts, the arch of her back.
He drew away the layers of her petticoats and tore at her thin silk drawers until
he could trace the soft, bare curve of her buttocks.

“Dominic,” she cried, and he drew her hips up and back. She felt him thrust into her,
deep and fast, deeper than ever before. His hands were hard on her waist, holding
her still as he pumped into her.

Sophia moaned, the pressure too much to bear as he slid over that one sensitive spot,
over and over. She threw her head back and arched into him. She felt his damp chest
against her back, the tight joining of their bodies.

At last that taut pressure broke, like a shower of hot,
unbearable pleasure pouring over her. She felt the warmth of him inside her as he
shouted out her name.

She collapsed weakly down onto the floor. She felt him fall beside her, his legs tangled
with hers as his chest heaved for breath. She couldn’t think, couldn’t reason; she
could only
feel.
She traced her hand over his damp shoulder, the length of his muscled back, his hair,
and an unbearable tenderness washed over her.

Sophia closed her eyes and felt her heartbeat slow. The ship seemed to shift beneath
her, as if they were heading out to sea and turned toward home. But nothing seemed
to matter in that moment except Dominic’s body next to hers.

She felt him sit up beside her. She didn’t even open her eyes as he wrapped his arms
around her and lifted her up as he stood. She felt him reach down to draw back the
covers on the berth, and he laid her gently down in the nest of cool, soft sheets.
But he didn’t lie down beside her. She heard him draw off his shoes and the rustle
of cloth as he shed his trousers completely.

She opened her eyes to see him standing by the washstand, wringing out a cloth in
the basin of water. The last golden rays of daylight played over his bare skin, making
him gleam. Her bright god.

Sophia propped herself up on her elbow, watching him as he came back to her side.
His face looked still and solemn as he reached for her foot. He removed her satin
shoe and rolled away her stocking before he smoothed the damp cloth over her skin.
He gently bathed her whole body.

She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes to let the cool, gentle touch ease
over her skin. When he set the
cloth aside, Sophia drew him down to lie beside her. Her body curled around his in
the nest of the berth. His hand reached for hers, their fingers twined together. But
the peaceful moment couldn’t last; they weren’t sated with each other yet. Dominic
turned in her arms, and his lips searched for hers in the darkness.

Their mouths met in a heated kiss, and the very air around her seemed to turn warm
and heavy, like the sky before a storm. That storm still raged inside her, violent
and powerful, as everything she had locked away and suppressed for so long broke free
and threatened to drown her. She held on to Dominic again and let herself go under.

He pulled his mouth from hers, making her moan with the loss, but he didn’t leave
her. His hands held on to her hips, so tightly she felt almost bruised, yet she didn’t
care. She needed that hardness, that edge of pain and passion that told her he was
with her. They were alive together.

They knelt facing each other in the middle of the bed, then he reached for her again
and slid her close to his naked chest.

Sophia laid her palms over the curve of his shoulders. “So beautiful,” she whispered.
That smooth, damp skin over his lean muscles, so perfect but for a small white scar
arcing over his ribs. Did that come from his fighting? She let her hands slide slowly,
slowly down his chest, feeling every inch of him, every taut shift and ripple of his
skin. He held her lightly by her hips, letting her explore him.

The light whorls of blond hair sprinkled across his chest tickled her skin and made
her smile. The smile faded as her fingertips slid over the flat discs of his nipples.
Her nail scraped over one, and it went taut as he groaned. His
head fell back, his eyes closed, and she felt his penis jerk where it pressed her
abdomen.

She lowered her head and took that pebbled nipple into her mouth, sucking, biting
as he held on to her. She could feel the heavy beat of his heart under her lips, the
ragged rhythm of his breath. His hands convulsed on her hips. She let her fingers
trace down his chest, lower, lower, over his ridged stomach, the arrow of hair from
his navel to his manhood, the hard line of his hips.

Her open mouth followed the path of her touch, licking, caressing, tasting him. As
she bit at the arc of his hip, she let her hand flutter over his penis. It was hot
satin stretched taut over rigid steel, the veins etched on it pulsating with his need.
His need for
her
, for what she was doing to him now, and that realization flooded her with a powerful
pleasure.

She pressed her lips to his taut stomach as she ran her hand down the length of him
and up again to its base. She caressed that spot just behind that she knew he liked.

“Sophia!” he shouted. He drove his hand into her hair and pressed her against him.

She smiled and trailed her mouth lower until she could slip the tip of him between
her lips. He tasted sweet and musky, his skin burning as she slowly took him deeper.
She could give
him
pleasure in return for what he gave her, and it felt glorious.

“Sophia,” he said, his voice just a rough growl. His hand slid through her hair, and
she ran her tongue over him. His hips twitched but he didn’t push himself deeper.
He let her do whatever she wanted.

She held him to her as she caressed his warm skin, the curve at the small of his back.
His hips thrust against her.

Suddenly he caught her shoulders and pushed her back from him. Sophia tilted her head
to look up at him, and in the red shadows of their bed his face looked harsh, carved
into hard lines with lustful need.

Sophia smiled and reached beneath the bed for her valise. Carefully folded in its
depths was the dildo he had bought her in Paris. She pulled it out. “Remember this?”
she said teasingly.

“Sophia…” he growled.

Watching him, she lay back on the bed and spread her legs. Slowly, teasingly, never
taking her eyes from him, she traced its cool hardness down her body. She circled
her breasts and slid it down lower, lower. Dominic never moved, never looked away
from its path.

“This was a wonderful gift,” she said. She closed her eyes and arched her head back,
imagining it was his touch as she eased the tip of the toy between her legs. But as
she slipped it inside her, he took it away and tossed it to the floor with a clatter.

“I can’t bear it anymore, Sophia,” he said, and pulled her up to kiss her. There was
no seductive art to his kiss now, only hunger and raw lust that called out to her
own need.

She wrapped her arms around him as they fell back onto the bed. Dominic rolled her
beneath him, his hips between her spread thighs as he kissed the curve of her neck,
and she cried out as she arched against him. The pain and pleasure sparkled through
her.

He trailed his open-mouthed kiss lower, tasting her with his tongue until he captured
her aching nipple between his lips and suckled her, rolling it between his teeth.

“Dominic,” she cried. She cradled his head in her hands, holding him against her.
Her whole body felt so
alive
, so burning with need for him and what he was doing to her. What only he could do
to her.