Deliciously Hazardous (Regency Four Book 4) Page 6

  Although she worried herself into a headache, the door latch did not move. If Rydale didn’t come to her tonight, when he had intimated he would, her disappointment would far outweigh her humiliation. Her head throbbing, she shifted the fabric of her nightgown across her knees again and lay back down, wondering how long he would take to undress and come to her. If not soon, she might need to get under the covers because the cool night air had managed to pervade the room. Sadly, a well-covered sleeping damsel would not be half as appealing to a jaded knight in steely armor like Rydale, as a half-naked sylph shivering in the moonlight.

  Yet another floorboard groaned. This time she forced herself to remain in her careful pose, though her neck had stiffened. Yet again, the door didn’t open. Although old houses were prone to creaking in the cooler weather, Winsome had mentioned with a laugh that she suspected that the house was haunted. Perhaps a Langsdene ghost could be blamed. She often heard the old boards shifting at night, she said, though mainly when she had houseguests. Possibly, ghosts thought the more spectators, the better, when deciding to haunt houses.

  Just as Hebe began to massage the back of her neck, the door opened. Rydale quietly appeared in the doorway. He still wore his evening jacket and breeches. After closing the door carefully behind him, he stood, unmoving. In the candlelight, she couldn’t quite discern the expression on his face.

  Knowing him and his rigid determination never to betray his upbringing, her chest deflated with disappointment and her eyes prickled. An aching lump formed in her throat. Without doubt he had come to tell her that he had no intention of sharing the bed of a woman whose only intent, he thought, was to use him as a father for her baby. Eking out her last ounce of pride, and fighting the urge to draw her legs defensively to her chest, she said in with forced formality, “Do gentlemen normally pay calls at this hour?”

  He slowly leaned back onto the door frame, his gaze unwavering, and his movement clicking the door shut. “You may recall issuing an invitation?”

  “The invitation didn’t include a request for evening dress.”

  He mulled her words for a moment. “Somehow, changing into daywear seemed inappropriate.”

  “Did you consider night attire?” she asked in a voice that sounded unexpectedly husky.

  “A dressing robe?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not my normal habit to haunt the halls in my nightwear. Do you know anyone who does? If so, do me the honor of explaining to me why anyone would risk being compromised.”

  Compromised? She let out a disillusioned breath, realizing now that her deliberate pose had been a waste of time. Rydale had thought the matter over and let his fear of being trapped outweigh his desire for her. No rich widow who had other options would lose her confident façade in the presence of a man who clearly didn’t want her. “If you are afraid of taking risks, you should not visit ladies in their bedrooms at night.”

  “I seem to recall that you asked me to impregnate you.” He took his fob watch from his waistcoat pocket as if he meant to time his visit. “All I need to do is open the flap of my breeches, do the deed, and leave. Five minutes if that.”

  “Oh, no. I said you have to please me in bed, too.” As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember what she had said when she had been trying to find out if her body appealed to him as much as her money. She rested her cheek on her up-drawn knees, hiding the quick blinking that held back the prickling behind her eyelids.

  His replaced his fob into his pocket. “I’m a very basic sort of man who enjoys healthy pleasures. If you want more from me, you have chosen the wrong man.” He waited, his gaze on her face.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. Although she had participated in the act with Horace, she couldn’t say she had ever been pleasured. Nor did she know what Rydale meant by basic and healthy, though she suspected that was all she had experienced before. Although disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm, she decided that since he was so ruggedly masculine, clutching at his hard muscles might cause her a certain amount of titillation, if nothing else. Her mother’s words came to her. You can’t expect all you want out of life. You have to settle, my girl, occasionally. Until now, she always had, and knew no other way. Not certain how to answer, she said nothing.

  He stared at his hands and then at her, and began to unbutton his breeches. “Move down to the end of the bed and roll onto your stomach and we’ll have this impregnation out of the way in a trice.”

  Disenchantment caused her chest to ache. She had hoped for kisses at least. If Rydale could do no more than Horace, she had no need of him. She wanted him, but not this formal Rydale, not this man with no heart, no kindness, and little interest in her. She couldn’t accept this soulless offer. “I think you won’t do after all. You may leave.”

  For a moment a satisfied expression crossed his face. She couldn’t have that. Today she had caused a stirring of his body by kissing him. The fault could be on her side. After all, she had asked him to service her and earlier in the day he appeared to be prepared to do so. Perhaps, a few niceties should be added by her. “But first ... “ She gathered the skirts of her nightgown in one hand and slipped from the bed, approaching him with her gaze fixed on his.

  He stood staring at her, but at least he didn’t step back. While she kept her focus on him, she slid her hands up his chest and curled her fingers behind his neck. Her body rested against his hard muscular frame and even that sent a thrill throughout her body. She had never been as scared in her whole life. Another rejection from him now would finish her off. She would have not a scrap of dignity left.

  But as he stared down at her, he slowly smoothed the curve of her hips with tantalizing sensuality. His mouth descended to hers while he clasped her lower body against him. The rasp of his breathing was like music to her ears. After all his ruthless words, the man was still physically attracted to her. She wanted to hold him close, feel the beat of his heart, experience the warmth of his body, but as femme fatale she had to seduce him or lose her carefully sought reputation for being a cool-hearted minx. She cupped his cheek with her hand.

  He turned his head and kissed her palm, a strange action for a man who was only prepared to service a woman. Perhaps he was offering her a goodbye kiss because he didn’t intend to go through with this. She would not accept a man’s regrets or his kindnesses. She grasped the hair above his starched collar and left her fingers tangled in his thick waves. For once in her life she wanted to experience real passion. He didn’t try to fight her at all. Instead he made a sound like a deep growl, and held her gaze for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers.

  She lifted her face, teasing at his lips, stopping, starting, evading his mouth, finding his mouth, and breathing hard from the erotic thrill of knowing he sought more. Not for a moment did she ease the tug of her fingers in his hair, and not for a moment did he ease the firm press of his palms on her hips. He forced her lips open with his and his tongue began an urgent seek inside her mouth. Doubtless, a scandalous woman would let a man do whatever he wished, and he assumed she was a scandalous woman. Determined to live up to his expectations, she used her tongue to taste his.

  At that moment, she realized that she wanted this man more than she had wanted anything in her whole life. Each new breath ached. Her body responded to his with an avidity she hadn’t expected. Her heartbeat stepped up and her plot to capture his heart dissolved in the night air.

  His hand came between them. He appeared to be trying to unbutton his waistcoat. Eager to help, she eased his shirt out of his breeches. He stopped the kiss with a huff of amusement. “Let’s be civilized about this, shall we? I will undress myself. You will put yourself on that bed while I do so.”

  “You will not make the rules.” Breathlessly, she worked at the buttons of his breeches, quickly discovering she needed two hands instead of one, and the other had been taken by him.

  He breathed a soft laugh into her hair. “I don’t know what you are trying to achieve but at
this rate we’ll get nowhere. We need a system. One garment at a time.”

  “Your jacket,” she said in a rough whisper. “Take it off.”

  He did so, his gaze on her face. “Then my waistcoat, thus.”

  “And your cravat.” She untied the knot, another thing she had never before done to a man.

  “So, now I can remove my shirt?” He took the hem with two hands and pulled the fabric over his head. He had a chest like a blacksmith, all hard muscle, covered in a tee shape of coarse fair hair. “If you will kindly repose on the bed, I will have my trousers removed as soon as my shoes are off.”

  She kindly reposed on the bed, never letting her avid gaze leave him. In a neat movement he removed his shoes and stockings. She watched, her heartbeat thready. Within another minute, she had the pleasure of seeing a fully naked male. He was as perfect as her imaginings, fit, hard, an Adonis in the candlelight. Although she didn’t want to concentrate on the one essential part, she could hardly ignore his enormous erection, which stood tall and proud against his flat belly. She had neither seen nor touched Horace’s, but he had only hurt her the first time.

  She expected no hurt from Rydale, being broken in, as it were. She lay back, her head on the pillow, awaiting her first lover with an amount of trepidation. Most of her adult life she had heard whispering about the pleasures of the marriage bed, which for her had been never fully realized. If she was ever to know pleasure with a man, this would her best chance. From the day she had met him, Rydale sent jolts of awareness through her. When he glanced at her, he made every one of her nerve endings tingle. When he spoke to her, he made her heart expand with joy. When he touched her, he caused her insides to dissolve.

  She had always felt the same way about him, and seeing his manly nakedness caused her heart to trip. Something about the way he moved, the way he looked at her, the way he deliberately ignored her, and was always so determined to think the worst of her, had brought out her fighting spirit. She had been meek and mild for too long. She saw this night as her last chance to make an impression on him.

  Tonight, because of dear Horace’s money, she would live her fantasy with Rydale.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rydale had come to Hebe’s room fully dressed to apologize for his behavior. When she had propositioned him, he had reacted as any normal male would. A chance to bed the experienced tease would be difficult for a man to resist. During the past hour, while he had waited for the servants to return to their quarters and for the last door to be closed, he had come to realize that no gentleman in his right mind would try to procreate with a lady he didn’t intend to marry. Would he let Hartley, or anyone else for that matter, bring up one of his bastards?

  Not in this lifetime.

  Perhaps he should have left her waiting, but that would compound his lack of decency. No matter how much he craved this particular lady, he would not audition as a husband. She could find her damned lovers elsewhere.

  Then he had seen her in her night attire, a lace concoction designed to send blood rushing to his cock, and he realized he couldn’t pass up this opportunity to share the bed of this experienced tease, if only this once. Once should be enough to bring him to his senses. But, even if he passed with flying colors, he had no intention of marrying her for her money.

  Fully aroused, he joined her on her bed, lying back with one arm behind his neck, his cock pressing hard against his belly. For a moment she stared at his face and he stared at hers. She appeared to be waiting. He curved his lips into a careful smile. He thought he would do nothing and see what she would do.

  She didn’t disappoint him. With no subtlety whatsoever, she went for his erection, settling her hand along the length as if measuring for a good fit. He had to concentrate on not grabbing her and rolling her beneath him. Instead, he put his other arm behind his head. Then she carefully handled his balls. His cock twitched. She glanced at his face. “Is that your special talent?”

  “Used at every house party since I reached my majority.”

  “Have you had hundreds of lovers?” She sounded put out.

  “I doubt I would break your record.”

  She laughed, softly. “It’s too late for you to do that, now. You are very beautiful, you know. Your body, I mean. Your face is too hard to be called beautiful.”

  He turned to her, half amused, half puzzled. This ingenuous comment from her was entirely unexpected. He had imagined she would throw herself right into this and show him how much she had learned over the years. “You do understand that you contradicted yourself?”

  “Your body is beautiful because it is hard.” She huffed another laugh. Her breath tickled over his neck. “Your face is not, for the same reason. My body is soft. If my face is soft, that means I am a female.”

  He nodded, almost understanding the most ridiculous bed conversation he’d had with a woman. “Your face is so perfect that it could be carved out of marble. The question is, do your morals match.”

  Silence descended. Then, “Says the man who is willing to undress for any woman who asks.”

  “You are not any woman.” He realized he meant exactly that.

  Hebe had always been more than a beautiful female. She was smart. She knew which side to butter her bread, and had married for money. Had she not made her ambitions clear as an eighteen year-old, Rydale might have walked into the trap of falling for her charms. He had kept his distance but she made his chest ache. How he had managed to keep his words in his mouth and his hands to himself, he couldn’t imagine, but he had, until today.

  He lifted on one elbow to glance at her face. Even though he was now less impressionable, his craving for her had continued to haunt him. And now she lay beside him, wanting him for all the wrong reasons. He would never let a child of his to be brought up by another man. Perhaps he needed to marry a woman with a reasonable inheritance, but he certainly didn’t aspire to an industrialist’s fortune.

  “Now we have finished introducing ourselves...” He rolled over and covered her. A man could only stand so much temptation.

  She instantly parted her legs, and if he hadn’t carefully landed his cock on her belly he would be inside her without a single preliminary. He bent his neck and carefully placed a kiss on the base of her throat. She shivered and clutched at his upper arms. He moved his lips to her chin but she turned her head and his mouth met hers. His was no teasing kiss. His was a kiss of intention, a kiss determined to melt her bones. His kiss would be the start of a slow seduction, intended to frustrate her plans. He had no intention of impregnating her. He simply wanted to be her lover for a few hours.

  Resting on one elbow, he slid his hand to her breast, tracing one nipple, which rose into his palm. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down to cover her, offering him soft little kisses on his neck and face. He reciprocated by turning his head and covering her mouth with his. At that moment, he had never wanted a woman as much. Although his desire for her had never died, at that moment he had far more in mind than entering her to sate himself. He wanted the taste of her on his tongue, lips, and every inch of his skin. His fingers spread to accommodate a hand-span buttock in each palm while his mouth searched the softness of her shoulders and neck. The faint floral scent of her skin intoxicated him.

  She opened her legs and lifted her knees. Before he realized her plan, he found his cock sliding along her wetness, enticed by a well-timed wriggle. He breathed hard, knowing that as long as he didn’t fully enter her, spilling inside her should be impossible. Fortunately, he had her lovely breasts to finish pleasuring first. Hebe wasn’t over endowed. Her breasts were round and soft, a handful each, with smallish hard nipples. He put the first in his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. Her back arched and those avid hands of hers clenched into his hair. The drag spurred him on, and he sucked and licked until she bucked. She tried to impale herself with him while his eager cock slid through her wetness, trying to avoid the corral of her entrance. She was wet enough to cause his arms to shake while he
raised himself above her.

  He took her second nipple the same way he had taken the first. The temptress beneath him clenched her fingers into the skin of his back. If Langsdene invited him to go a round of boxing with him tomorrow, he would be unable to strip. Hebe’s marking more than likely would incriminate her as well. “Witch,” he muttered around her sweet nipple.

  “Both. But not at the same time or you will squash me.”

  His laugh came easily. Bedding Hebe would bring him more joy than he had ever experienced. “I will do my best not to, my delicate little flower.”

  “If I am a delicate flower, you are a hulking great brute.”

  Judging by his aching arousal, she was more than likely right, but nothing expanded a man’s ego more than a mention of his size. He doubted he would be able to keep up with her, but trying had begun to be one of his favorite pastimes. Rolling onto his side, he hooked her leg over his hip. The angle of her hips kept his cock against her silken entrance. If he didn’t remove himself soon, he would give into temptation. Then he would have to remember to withdraw, which he had certainly done on previous occasions.

  He used careful fingers on her, finding her swollen nub and teasing until she began to moan. She wriggled hard against his hand, begging mutely for release. This had now become a challenge for him. He seemed not to be able to get her there. Perhaps as a consolation prize, he allowed himself to take her soft lips again, while the rapid pounding his heart thundered against her.

  Her hands grasped at his buttocks. He fought the desperate urge to enter her, and managed not to give in to his need, absolutely determined to give her the ultimate pleasure. Finally, as he discovered he couldn’t leave her mouth long enough to think, she exploded in a wave of passion. His back was slick with sweat and his skin on fire. He doubted he had applied himself to a woman’s needs as long in his life.