Seduction on a Snowy Night Page 18

  Loved?

  Yes, she loved Heywood. She loved his protectiveness and his many kindnesses. She loved that he appreciated her wit. She loved that he had first become attracted to her through her letters.

  By expecting him to be willing to give up his future for her, was she being too exacting? Perhaps. It was probably as unfair as it was to expect Mr. Adams to wear sackcloth and ashes because he wanted a woman who happened to have a fortune.

  Well, no more. She would do her best to gain Heywood. And if it meant telling him everything? Then she would do that, too. Because even if he did want her fortune, she would still rather be married to him than anyone else.

  She wanted Heywood. And that was that.

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight when Heywood headed up the stairs, intending to go to bed. He’d hoped to find a moment alone with Cass, but that hadn’t happened. First, there’d been the tree decorating. Cass had seemed very enamored of the custom and had thrown herself into it with great enthusiasm. Not wanting to lose a single minute with her, he’d stayed to watch, though he could have bowed out.

  Normally they would have opened their presents next, but with half the family having still not arrived, Mother had commanded that the gift giving be done on Christmas morning. That suited him just fine. He still hadn’t had the chance to talk to Cass alone, which dictated whether he gave her a ring or something less significant. He could almost believe that his mother, half sister, and brother had conspired to keep him and Cass apart, but that seemed very calculated, even for his family.

  His other siblings, who were supposed to be traveling from London, had sent word by a footman that they would be at Armitage Hall in time for Christmas dinner tomorrow but couldn’t promise better than that because the roads still made for slow going.

  To his surprise, however, as he passed Thorn’s room he spotted Cass standing in the middle of it, staring at nothing. The fire had been lit, probably by some servant who hadn’t heard that Thorn had been delayed, but no candles were burning. Still, he could see that Cass wore only a nightdress and a wrapper.

  God help him. How was he to endure that temptation? “What are you doing?” he asked from the doorway, not wanting to spook her.

  She faced him with a dazed expression. “I don’t know. I was trying to sleep, but I couldn’t get Kitty out of my mind. So I came here, hoping to find another letter from her. Or something to explain why she would sneak out without even telling me.”

  Ah, yes, Heywood had forgotten that Kitty had been sleeping in Thorn’s room. Mother had planned to move her today, but her elopement had put an end to that.

  Cass flashed him a rueful smile. “I think it has just sunk in that she’s gone off with Mr. Adams.”

  He walked into the room. Cass needed someone to listen. Surely he could be that person, no matter how flimsy her gown and wrapper. No matter how gorgeous her hair, now that it was tumbling from beneath her mobcap and down over her shoulders like froth in a bowl of syllabub. “I doubt she purposely left you out of the decision. Adams probably didn’t give her much opportunity. They saw we were preoccupied and took their chance to elope.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Kitty and I tell each other everything. Yet when she made the most important decision of her life, she didn’t confide in me.”

  “Your cousin doesn’t strike me as the sort to think through decisions. She just leaps.”

  “That does sound like her.” Cass tucked an errant curl up under her mobcap. “But how is it I never even guessed that Mr. Adams was . . . in love with her? Or she was in love with him? Perhaps if I had—”

  “You would have stopped her from eloping?”

  “I suppose I might have, before. But if she loves him . . .”

  “That’s your only criterion, isn’t it?”

  Cass stared at him. “Yes. Though I know it isn’t yours.”

  A harsh laugh escaped him. “Until I met you, I would have said that was true.”

  She blushed. “What do you mean?”

  It was now or never. Kitty wasn’t the only person who liked to leap sometimes.

  Closing the door behind him, he headed for Cass. “I’m tired of fighting what I feel. Tired of pretending I could marry any heiress just to save Hawkcrest. I can’t. I won’t. I want you as my wife. No matter how that affects my future.”

  Her eyes widened. “First, there’s something I must tell—”

  “No. No more words.” He slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her close. “I’m done with talking. I want to show you how I feel.”

  “But—”

  He kissed her, probably harder than he should have, but he hoped not. The thought of losing her for any reason was too much. This, this, was what he needed. He would prove to her that he wanted her, poor relation or no, and then hope that any resistance she had would fade away.

  When she kissed him back with great fervor, his satisfaction was so powerful he wanted to crow it aloud. But that would require tearing his lips from her, so instead he pulled off her wrapper and tossed it aside.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Making you mine, assuming that you want that, too.” He drew back just enough to see her face shining in the firelight and her lush body nicely outlined by her linen nightdress. God help him if she said no. He might combust. “I may have abducted you, dearling, but I’m no scoundrel.”

  She looped her arms about his neck. “I know that. And I do wish to be yours.”

  “Now? Here? Because if you want to put it off—”

  “Certainly not. I don’t think I could wait even one more day.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” he growled.

  Then he slid both hands up to cover her breasts, reveling in her gasp. And when her sweet nipples hardened as he swept his thumbs over them, he thought he would explode right then and there.

  She was so lush, so eager. Her breasts fit his hands perfectly, which made him want to just toss her down on the bed and ravish her. But he wanted her first experience with lovemaking—their first time together—to be special. And that meant taking things slow.

  He could manage that, right? Surely he wasn’t so far gone, so smitten, that he couldn’t keep control of his urges.

  Perhaps what he should do was increase her urges. Dropping his hand to below her belly, he caressed her through her nightdress, exulting when her breathing quickened, and her nightdress dampened.

  Ah, yes, she was his. She would be his. His heart soared at the thought.

  Apparently he had a heart and it knew what it wanted. Her. Only her. And the money be damned.

  Chapter 8

  Cass knew she shouldn’t be doing this, especially since she hadn’t told him about her fortune yet. But now that he was here and wanting to marry her in spite of everything, she didn’t wish to ruin this moment. Being in Heywood’s arms made her happy, and having him say he wanted her for his wife made her even happier. So she would take her chances.

  Now that she’d agreed to his madness, he turned thrillingly fierce, which should have alarmed her. Instead, it delighted her. Between rough and thorough kisses, he fondled her breasts through her nightdress so deliciously that she could hardly think.

  “Heywood,” she whispered.

  “Yes, dearling.”

  The endearment thrilled her. “I want to see you undressed.”

  “Right.” He grinned wickedly at her. “I remember.”

  Her cheeks flamed as she thought of all the naughty things she’d said the last time they were together, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to act on them. She pulled at his coat, and he slid out of it. His waistcoat and cravat quickly followed, giving her a glimpse of his tanned throat before he tore off his shirt, revealing far more skin.

  She gulped. That was interesting. His chest seemed sculpted from marble, with muscles that clearly came from his being a soldier. And he had dark blond curls on his chest! She hadn’t expected h
air in such a place, having never seen a man half-dressed, in art or otherwise.

  She lifted her hand, then paused with it midair. “Can I touch you?”

  “Oh, God, yes,” Heywood rasped.

  As she swept her hands over his chest, she felt his muscles clench. His jaw tautened, too, and the very thought that she could affect him so profoundly made a surge of wanton heat rise in her belly and lower.

  But when she ran her thumbs over his nipples the way he’d done hers, he growled, “Enough, you teasing wench. It’s your turn.”

  “That’s hardly fair,” she said lightly. “If I take off my nightdress, I’ll be naked. And you’re still partly clothed.”

  “I can easily remedy that.” He unbuttoned and stripped off his breeches and stockings, then kicked off his shoes, leaving him in only his drawers.

  His prominently bulging drawers. He reached for the buttons, then grinned at her. “Shall we disrobe together?”

  The sight of his mostly naked legs, so sinewy and hairy and male, already overwhelmed her, but if she undressed and he backed away in disappointment, then having his body to look at might keep her from dwelling on that too much. “Yes,” she breathed. “Together.”

  He unfastened his drawers; she unfastened the buttons on her nightdress. Then together they stripped their undergarments off.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t at first notice what he looked like down there because she was so focused on watching his reaction. It was most gratifying. He scoured her with a look that flamed every part it touched.

  “God help me, Cass, you’re a soldier’s dream come true.” With a purely wondering expression, he skimmed his hand from her shoulder to her breast to her belly and then to the curls between her legs. “So soft, so delicate . . . and all mine.” When he cupped her, sending her heart into a pounding rhythm, she started.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  He groaned. “Dearling, please don’t make me stop.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” She backed up a few steps. “I-I forgot to look at you! Let me see.”

  His frown cleared, and his smile turned cocky. “Ah, now that’s different.”

  “Different” was the word, all right. He looked nothing like her down there. He had a reddened rod of flesh between his legs, a bold fellow that thrust itself out from its nest of curls with outrageous impudence.

  Her mouth went dry. What was she supposed to do with that . . . that thing?

  But he gave her no time to worry over it before he took her in his arms, kissing her deeply as he backed her toward the bed. Then he tumbled her down upon it before kneeling beside her. “I’ll do my best to make this pleasant for you, Cass, but you’ll have to tell me what you like.”

  “I don’t know what I like.”

  He chuckled. “Not yet. But you will. Indeed, it might take a lifetime of practicing together to determine the many things you like. But we can start with this.”

  Lying down next to her, he leaned over to suck her breast.

  “Ohhh, I like that,” she said. “Very much.”

  “I like it, too.” He sucked the other breast, and she thought she might die of pleasure.

  Her breath seemed to have stuck down deep in her throat, and she couldn’t help arching up for more of his attentions. He obligingly gave them to her, caressing both breasts in turn with mouth and tongue and teeth. Just as she wondered if she could take much more of the thrilling sensations coursing through her, he slipped his hand down between her thighs to stroke her where he’d briefly stroked before.

  My oh my. That felt magnificent. The man was a magician at rousing her need and then satisfying it, in an ever-heightening circle. He slid one finger inside her, then another, while with his thumb he rubbed the spot that ached for him. A jolt of desire lofted her even higher. Who could have imagined that mere fingers could offer such delicious ecstasy?

  “How about that?” he asked raggedly. “Does that feel good?”

  “Ohhh, yes,” she breathed. “So . . . very . . . good.”

  “Close your eyes. You’ll like it even more.”

  When she did as he bade, she discovered he was right. She did like it even more. Until something larger than fingers edged up inside her.

  Her eyes shot open. “Heywood?”

  Then she realized what she was feeling. Heywood had moved to kneel between her legs and was putting his . . . disturbingly large member inside her.

  “Is this really necessary?” She wanted to go back to the pleasurable part.

  “To make you mine?” His eyes glazed over as he paused inside her so he could meet her gaze. “I’m afraid it is. But if you want me to stop—”

  She stared up at his strained expression. “No, please don’t.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then began to move again. At first it was uncomfortable and not at all what she’d expected. Their bodies were so entwined, so intimate, that she felt he could see to her very soul. But the deeper he thrust inside her, the more she adjusted to it, and soon she was undulating against him, trying to find . . . exactly what she needed.

  As if he guessed what that was, he pulled her knees up, and she felt a stirring between her legs that had her nearly swooning. Then he reached down to finger her in the same place as before, and the caress catapulted her into a new realm of enjoyment.

  “Heywood,” she whispered. “Oh, goodness, Heywood.”

  “Do you like that, dearling?” he choked out.

  “Very . . . much.”

  He did both for a while—stroking her while also driving into her with his rather large rod of flesh. Briefly she wished her aunt had prepared her for such an . . . unusual act, but she soon forgot about anything except the feel of him inside her, the sweet bliss of him touching her down there.

  “Dearling,” he said, “are you . . . all right?”

  She choked out a laugh. “That’s an . . . understatement for . . . how I’m . . . feeling.”

  Her response seemed to make him swell inside her. “Good,” he bit out.

  Then they were too caught up in pleasuring each other to say more. He fondled her in every part he could reach, and she clung to his shoulders as a butterfly clung to a flower. He made her feel like a flower—pretty and feminine and oh so worthy of his desires.

  He drove into her over and over, rousing her blood, making her wish to climb ever higher. Then, as if a lightning bolt from the sky had hit them both, she felt a deep keening down there, which was answered by a coarse oath from him.

  Soon they were sliding into oblivion, reaching a pinnacle of ecstasy. She cried out, which spurred him, too, somehow, and then they were vaulting into a world of glorious physical sensation.

  “My love,” he whispered as she went over the edge with him. “My dearest love.”

  It was the sweetest thing he’d said to her. “My love,” she replied.

  Then they fell into that place where only lovers go—that perfect happiness of needs fulfilled and love requited.

  There was no going back now. She was his. And Lord save her if this proved to be the end of it. Because now that she’d put her trust in him, she could never return to the life she’d led before.

  * * *

  Heywood dozed off. When he awakened, he realized that Cass lay beside him, sleeping blissfully. He sighed. Their union had been everything he’d hoped for. He couldn’t and wouldn’t regret it. Still, having decided to marry, they must now deal with Hawkcrest. He was going to have to sell it.

  She must have sensed his gaze on her, because she opened her eyes to stare at him with that sultry look that made him want to ravish her again and again.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  She snuggled against him. “Is it here already?”

  “It is indeed. Christmas Day in the morning. The very early morning, that is.” He brushed a kiss to her lips. “And apparently you’re my present.”

  “As you are mine.” She gazed up at him with a trembling smile. “Is what we just did .
. . you know, before we fell asleep . . . always like that?”

  “Not for me.” He shifted to lie on his side, facing her. “But then I never felt anything for the women I was . . . er . . . with.”

  “I can’t imagine doing something so intimate merely for pleasure.”

  “Nor can I . . . now. It certainly pales in comparison to what you and I just shared.”

  Her eyes darkened. “But I suppose you were ‘with’ a great many women before we met.”

  He winced. “Not as many as you’d think.”

  “At the very least I assume one of them was involved with Mr. Malet and that’s why you despise him so.”

  “Actually, that’s not why.” He supposed it was time he told her. Otherwise, she would assume all manner of incorrect possibilities. “I despise him—Douglas and I both despise him—because of what he did to a woman even younger than Kitty.”

  Her eyes went round. “What was her name?”

  “Valeria. She was the orphan of one of the English soldiers and his Portuguese wife. Both Douglas and I missed our families, so we treated her like a little sister. She had no brothers and was a bit of a tomboy, so she would follow us around the camp as a little sister might.”

  Idly he twined one of Cass’s curls about his finger. “At fifteen, she turned secretive. We assumed she was growing into a woman and tiring of our company.” His voice hardened. “But that wasn’t it at all.”

  “She was following Malet about,” Cass said.

  “Precisely. She’d fallen in love with him. And like the scoundrel he was, he took advantage. No one knew of their . . . affair, if that’s what you could call a union between a girl and a man twice her age. Apparently he’d insisted that she keep it quiet, and she did.”

  “So how did you learn of it?” Cass asked.

  “After he’d had his fun, he discarded her, as was his wont. It broke her heart. She languished away, refusing to eat or drink, refusing to say what was wrong. By the time she finally told us about it, she was on her deathbed, and naught could be done for her. We confronted him, but he laughed at us. Laughed. Said we were just angry that we hadn’t had her first.”

  “No wonder you hate him.”