Saint's Devils: Devil In My Arms Part 7

She visibly relaxed. "Oh, good." She reached up and began to unpin a flower from her hair. He stopped her. They stood like that for a moment, his hand holding her arm in the air, their gazes locked, the very air charged with the awareness that had swept through him at the contact.

"Don't," he whispered. "Did you wear it for me?"

She nodded, biting her lip. He didn't think she realized she did that when she was discomfited. It wasn't like her to show weakness of any kind. "It's silly," she said, trying to tug her hand free.

"No," he said, "it's not. I like it. Leave it."

Her breath caressed his cheek, they stood so close. She smelled of peppermint and lavender. He took a deep breath, inhaling her fragrance and the warmth of her skin. He slid his hand down her arm and her breathing caught for a moment. The sound made his stomach clench with desire. Everything about her made him mad for her, every breath she took. He'd known he wanted her, known she affected him, but not like this. It was tenfold what he remembered from the garden. He let his hand glide down her side, and then he reached up to undo her cloak. She didn't stop him.

When it fell to the floor she took a deep, shaky breath.

"How do you feel about being naked?" Hil asked hopefully, looking up and down her plain blue, rather voluminous dress.

"Completely?" she asked, clearly uncertain.

"Well, you can still wear the flower," he said half-jokingly. Judging by her expression, the idea didn't seem to appeal to her. "All right, then, how about me being completely naked?" he asked, more than willing to lead the way.

"Absolutely," she surprised him by saying, and then she reached for the lapels of his banyan. She pushed it open and a little gasp escaped her when she realized he was shirtless underneath. "I hadn't noticed," she blurted out, embarra.s.sment coloring her cheeks. He wanted to laugh, but didn't.

"I'm going to try not to take that personally," he told her, "and pretend it was the poor lighting."

"I didn't mean it that way," she rushed to a.s.sure him. "I just ... I was too nervous to notice you." She winced.

Her nervous, garbled explanation was more than he could bear. She was adorable and enticing and irresistible. Hil kissed her, a sweet kiss that was nothing like the kisses he planned to share once they got through this awkward stage. "Stop talking," he whispered against her lips. "You're only making it worse."

She laughed and he liked it. He liked that little puff of air against his lips, and he opened his mouth and breathed it in. "Yes," he said nonsensically. "Just like that." He kissed her again, this time a little more firmly, stepping a little closer, testing her boundaries. She didn't shy away, but kissed him back. She hesitated a moment before pressing her hands to his chest. He felt like he'd been branded hers by that simple touch. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and then down his arms, pushing the banyan off completely. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her hand in his hair and kissed all thought right out of his head.

When she broke the kiss, Hil came back to his senses. They stared at one another for a moment, their ragged breaths cutting through the air. Then there was a flurry of activity as they both tried to get his pants off at the same time. Hil yanked her back to stand next to the bed as he sat and pulled them off. He threw them down without a care for his valet's sensibilities in the morning. Then he scooted back on the bed and dragged her with him, his hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to grab a handful of her skirt and pull it high to climb on the bed. She wore pale stockings and garters that gleamed in the candlelight. Fleetingly, he thought it might have been a good idea that she stayed clothed until he got himself under control. But then she shoved him down onto his back and straddled his hips and kissed him again and he knew he had to feel her skin, all of it.

He ran his hands up her calves, and he loved the way her silk stockings caught against his rough skin. He fingered her garters lightly as she broke the kiss with a gasp and threw her head back. He took advantage and leaned up to kiss her neck. She sank further into him and he bit her shoulder.

"Hilary," she panted, her hands rubbing his chest as if she couldn't get enough of him.

"Christ, Eleanor," he moaned as she undulated against him, her movements unsure and awkward. "Let me get these clothes off. Please." He was begging. Pride was a small thing compared to his need.

She sat up and tried to yank her skirts over her head, but got lost in the waterfall of petticoats and muslin.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. He sat up and got her arms down enough for him to reach around her and undo the ties on her dress.

"Thank G.o.d you're better at taking a woman's clothes off than I am," she said, her voice m.u.f.fled by her skirts as he dragged the dress over her head.

"Yes, thank G.o.d," he agreed fervently. He made short work of her petticoat and chemise, and all that was left was her stockings, which really wouldn't impede their progress, and he was far too aroused to waste time on them. He pulled her beneath him, leaned down, and took a deliciously delicate, pale nipple into his mouth and sucked it before roughly running his tongue over the plump breast surrounding it. Eleanor was making desperate, throaty sounds that went straight from his ears to his shaft, and he was positively vibrating with the need to get inside her. Never, never had he so desperately wanted a woman. Why her? He couldn't think straight to try to figure it out. All he could do was feel the need clawing inside him.

He enveloped her in his arms and rolled them both over so that she was on top of him again. The position gave him the delightful opportunity to run his hands over her long, strong back and firm b.u.t.tocks. He squeezed the later and she moaned. Her face was buried in his neck and she bit him on the shoulder, as he had done to her but minutes ago. His grip on her behind tightened. "Tell me you're ready," he growled, "because I cannot wait much longer."

She rubbed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest and made a breathy sort of stuttering sound. Her silk clad toes caressed his calf. "I told you I was ready when I came here," she replied.

"Then do it already," he demanded. "Take me, d.a.m.n it."

Chapter Eight.

Eleanor wasn't sure what he was asking her for. How was she supposed to take him? Wasn't that what they were doing now? All this rolling around and Hilary placing her on top had her confused about where this was going. Then Hilary grabbed her hips and raised them and pulled her back down onto his s.e.x. She gasped in shock as he entered her, and then she tensed, waiting for the pain. There was a little sting and she felt stretched to her limit for just a second or two. Then he pulled her down until they were once again pressed tightly together where they were joined and she held her breath, but instead of pain there was only pleasure. A hot, intense, throbbing pleasure that made her moan and close her eyes as weakness overcame her. She pressed harder against him, trying to take him deeper, and laughed at the sharp bite of dark pleasure she received. Enderby had never done this. Then again, she wouldn't have wanted him to. His touch had made her skin crawl. She blocked those memories and focused instead on how Hilary felt beneath her. Inside her.

"She was right," she said, her voice trembling with the pleasure coursing through her. "Harry was right."

Hilary had his head thrown back and his eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on his face. She ran her hand down his throat to his chest. He was beautiful. She'd known he would be. His musculature was clearly outlined under his pale skin, the skin of a redhead, though he wouldn't admit it. He had only a little chest hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head, and as dark as the hair at his groin. She drank in the sight of him, the sight of them joined, burning it into her memory. Never had she thought to find a man-or the s.e.xual act-so mesmerizing.

"About what?" he said breathlessly, and she had to think a moment to grasp the thread of her conversation.

"About this," Eleanor told him honestly. "Incandescent, indeed."

Hil smiled, his eyes still closed. "I am gratified I have lived up to Harry's standards," he said. "But this isn't even the best part."

"I can't imagine anything better," she moaned as he moved slightly, his hands on her hips still, a gentle pull out and a firm push in. It felt so different from what she'd known before. Smooth and hot and delicious.

"Trust me," he said.

"You know I do," she answered, and he finally opened his eyes. His gaze was full of understanding and heat and the same wonder she felt, though she knew he'd experienced this before.

"Move," he ordered. She didn't think to take offense at his tone. She simply complied with his demand. She rocked against him until he showed her with his hands how he wanted her to move. She took over and it was glorious. To have him spread out below her, the object and fulfillment of her desire. He let her take command. It was clear this moment was for her. She rested her hands on his firm stomach and used him. But with her limited knowledge she could only take them so far. She became frustrated at her inexperience, and cried out.

She didn't need words. Hilary knew what she wanted. He didn't make her ask. He simply pulled her down and kissed her and then rolled them over again, his hand on her hip holding them joined together. When she was beneath him he lifted her hands over her head and pressed them to the bed. She gave a cursory tug, but wasn't concerned. She did trust him, implicitly. Then he kissed her and began to move again. With each thrust she gave a breathy sigh against his lips and he increased his pace. She was aching now, desperate for something, though she didn't know where this was leading. Somewhere glorious, she was sure. Enderby had heaved above her like this, but then, not like this. He'd pierced her and used her with no thought to her pleasure. Thankfully he had been quick. She very much hoped Hilary could last forever. With each movement of his body he pleasured her. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt heavy and tender, and each time his chest brushed her nipples she moaned. And his hips ... he was pressing against the apex of her s.e.x in such a way that each thrust sent lightning strikes of joy through her. She began to tremble and a moan escaped.

"Yes," he whispered roughly into her ear. "Just like that. Come on." He was barely holding on to his control. She felt powerful; pleased at her ability to give him the same kind of pleasure she received in return. He bit her earlobe and she cried out, shocked at the bolt of desire that coursed through her at his rough treatment. She yanked her hands free and pulled her knees up, feet pressed to the bed as she sought the thrill of their joined bodies. It only took a moment for such fierce waves of pleasure to a.s.sault her that she cried out loudly and shook from head to toe, her fingers gripping the bed sheets beneath her. Hilary drove into her several more times before he groaned above her and pressed deep, his hands clutching her shoulders tightly. The pulse of his pleasure inside her made Eleanor cry out again.

When it was over, she couldn't catch her breath for the longest time. Hilary pulled away and she moaned at his loss, but couldn't bring herself to move. But he only lay down beside her and dragged her into his arms. He kissed her cheek, her neck, sucked on the earlobe he'd bitten. She laughed breathlessly with delight. "That was wonderful," she sighed, hardly recognizing her own contented voice.

"I am glad," Hilary said, his voice oozing satisfaction and male pride. As well it ought to. "I shall add incandescent to my introduction from now on."

She punched his shoulder weakly. "I didn't say that," she told him with a good bit of embarra.s.sment.

"Oh, yes, my dear, you did," he said, laughter in his voice. "And it was. Shall I introduce you that way, too?"

"Never," she breathed, scandalized at the very thought.

"Next time," he said, his voice m.u.f.fled by her neck as he continued to kiss her, "we shall also take off your stockings. I long to see your toes."

"My toes?" she asked, surprised, wondering what sort of wickedness one could do with toes. "Why?"

"I have no idea," he told her matter-of-factly as he pulled his mouth away from her neck and looked at her quizzically. He shrugged. "No matter. We shall still strip you naked."

She became acutely aware of her nudity then. He might not think of her as completely naked right now, but she did. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Oh, no," he said. "We'll have none of that." He grasped her tightly and, to her dismay, squeezed her bottom again. "I like the way you feel against me," he said in a sultry voice, and she shivered as she began to feel aroused again. She could hardly believe what a wanton he'd made of her. She pushed against his chest more forcefully and he let her go with obvious reluctance.

"We have not agreed there will be a next time." She felt like an idiot the moment the words left her mouth. Of course there would be a next time. He'd made her feel like a G.o.ddess. She wasn't going to give that up lightly.

"Why not?" he asked. He didn't look too concerned by the prospect, as he crossed his ankles, put his hands behind his head, and regarded her. He looked gorgeous, the devil.

"I've told you why this is a bad idea," she said peevishly, trying to crawl over him to get off the bed. He lightly slapped her bottom and she squealed and turned to glare at him, making him laugh.

"And we've just discovered why it's a very good idea," he argued. He rolled onto his side and rested his cheek on his palm, his elbow bent upon the bed. He patted the sheets in front of him. "Come now, sit here and we'll talk about it."

"Fine." Two could play this game. She kneeled directly in front of him and his eyes were clearly distracted by her womanly attributes on display. "You first."

"Oh, no," he said, running a finger down the crease between her thighs. "Ladies first, always."

She had the feeling he was talking about something wicked. She did like the sound of that, though. "This is a bad idea because I am in hiding."

"This is a good idea because I can protect you while you're in hiding. We've been over this." He gently tweaked a nipple and smiled at her shiver.

"This is a bad idea because people will talk and my ident.i.ty will be at risk," she said, slapping his hand away.

"Your ident.i.ty is irrelevant. And this is a good idea because we can't sleep when we're not in bed together." He leaned over and kissed her breast, then replaced his finger with his tongue and traced the inside of her thighs.

Eleanor was scandalized. She pulled his head up so he was looking at her again. "It is not irrelevant to me. I don't think you're taking the threat of Enderby and exposure seriously enough. Also, this is a bad idea because you're only ... how old are you?"

"How old ..." He paused. "What does that matter?"

"It matters because I am thirty-three. Surely that is older than you."

He laughed at her. "Hardly. I have seen twenty-nine years, a mere four less than you. That argument is moot."

"Fine. This is a bad idea because ... because it's reckless. I am not reckless, Hilary. I'm sensible. I'm logical. I think things through."

"You took two weeks to make the decision to come to me. I gathered you were a thinker already."

"My future is uncertain," she said sadly. "It isn't right to drag you into my problems." She didn't even want to think about how complicated her life was. And now she'd gone and made it worse. She'd tasted the forbidden and very much feared she couldn't live without it after this.

"Your future is wide open, my dear. You are in the enviable position of being able to do any d.a.m.n thing you want. You have no past, no obligations." He sighed and sat up and pushed the bed pillows against the headboard. Then he pulled her into his embrace and rested his chin atop her head. "Don't be scared, Eleanor. Of anything." She sank into his arms, letting him support her for now. A lady needed a strong shoulder now and then, among other things. She couldn't believe that when they'd first met, she'd found him as dangerous as a wild cat hunting prey, the very Devil he pretended to be. Now he was the rock she leaned on. But only temporarily.

"You are the most formidable woman I've ever known." She was humbled by his words, and glad he didn't see the constant fear she worked so hard to hide. "You shall prevail, and you shall be victorious. I know it. Let me help you. Because I want to help you, not because you've dragged me into it, as you put it."

She didn't know how to respond without revealing her own turmoil and uncertainty. She brushed his offer away with a witticism. "By help me, do you mean bed me?" she asked mischievously.

"Not exactly, but the two are not mutually exclusive," he murmured into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and then tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. "I am not normally an impulsive man, either, Eleanor," he admitted. "My attraction to you was confounding and unexpected, but real and powerful, just the same. I am not looking for an intimate relationship. I do not do well in them, you see." He looked quite uncomfortable at the confession. "I have hurt others in the past with my transient and often negligent affections. I do not want to hurt you, Eleanor."

"Nonsense," she said firmly, her ire rising at the very notion someone would criticize his loyalty or devotion. "Negligent affections, indeed. Your lifelong friendships belie such a claim, Hilary. If affection was not present in your previous affairs, it was not your fault. Affection is not produced by circ.u.mstance, but by circ.u.mstances of the heart. If your heart was not engaged, then those were doomed relationships regardless."

"I'm not sure my heart is engaged here, either," he said gently.

That took the wind out of her sails, but she forced herself to acknowledge her own misgivings about their liaison. "I am not sure, either," she had to admit. "I know that physically, I find you pleasing." There was more to it, of course, but she refused to make a cake of herself by admitting to her girlish infatuation.

"Thank you," he said politely, while caressing her bare hip. "I also find you physically appealing."

"Why must it be more? At least, right now?" she asked, already desperate to see him again, even as they were still abed. "Can we not just enjoy each other's company?" She didn't want him to think too hard about their affair. If he did, he'd surely see the futility of it. A romance between them could go nowhere. She wasn't as free as he pretended she was, was she?

"Why, Mrs. Fairchild," he murmured as he slid down onto the bed and pulled her closer. "What a marvelous idea."

It was then she realized she'd been manipulated into agreeing with what he'd wanted from the start. "Oh, you are devilishly clever," she said as she wrapped her arms around him in relief. "Carnal relations seem to slow my thinking processes."

"Don't think," he whispered. "Just feel." As he kissed her, she was very much afraid of exactly how much she was going to feel about Sir Hilary St. John.

In the early morning hours, Hil and Eleanor snuck out of his room. She was carrying her cloak and he was holding her hand as they tiptoed down the stairs. The secrecy was to satisfy her sensibilities. He knew d.a.m.n well it was his house and whatever happened here wouldn't go past the front door. His staff had been chosen very carefully, and had been put to the test before. Discretion was always the operating rule in his house, no matter the situation. He looked about. His footman had quietly vanished at their appearance, which only proved his point.

At the bottom of the steps he helped Eleanor into her cloak. He couldn't resist a last kiss before pulling the hood over her head. She looked up at him and he was struck by her vulnerability. Her short hair gave her the appearance of extreme youthfulness. There were still questions in her eyes, and a good bit of uncertainty written in the expression on her face. He cupped her cheek and smiled in rea.s.surance before he pressed his lips to hers. He hadn't meant the kiss to be more than a brief good-bye, but Eleanor wrapped her arms around him, pressed close, and opened her mouth. He fell into her response. G.o.d he loved her mouth. Too big for fashion, but so enticing it was going to be difficult to resist sampling it whenever they met.

He had never not been fully satisfied by one night in a woman's bed. But with Eleanor, there was still so much he wanted to do to and with her, so much more to be explored between them. She had been untried in the ways of true s.e.xual congress, and he'd gone slowly with her, initiating her to real pa.s.sion with a care he hadn't taken with a woman in a very long time. She had been exquisite in her response to him; her wonder and delight in the pleasure he gave her was a source of immense satisfaction, and he wanted it all again. He wanted to drag her back upstairs and continue their illicit play, until he was either sated at last or too exhausted to go on. And then he wanted to rest just long enough to regain his strength and dive into her again. When had he ever felt that way about a woman? About an inquiry, a puzzle, a challenge, yes, but never a person. Not this intensely. He feared what that might mean.

He broke the kiss slowly, so that they stood there, their mouths open, their lips barely touching, their warm breath mingling in the cool air of the entry. As if part of their souls were slipping into each other. And that intimacy was what made his heart race until he was dizzy with it. This wasn't like him. Not at all.

"I'm sorry," he heard Wiley say behind him. "I didn't mean to intrude."

Eleanor jerked back with a gasp. Hil held on to her arms, preventing her escape. "What the devil are you doing up this early?" he inquired of Wiley in a mild tone, slipping an arm around Eleanor's shoulders as he moved to stand beside her.

"I had a few errands to take care of before we searched for Mrs. Goode's love letters. I figured after your foul mood last night, you'd want to get started right away."

"In other words, you never made it to bed," Hil guessed.

"People in gla.s.s houses shouldn't throw stones," he told Hil. He bowed in Eleanor's direction. "How do you do, Mrs. Fairchild?" he said in a perfectly polite tone. They might have been meeting in a ballroom. Oh, he'd learned quite a bit, most definitely.

"Fine, thank you, Wiley. And you?" Eleanor replied, just as politely. She smiled at him then, a wide, happy smile, and held out her hand. Wiley shook it with a matching wide grin. He started to bow down to kiss it, but Hil glared at him and he let go. Wiley had an uncanny way with the ladies, and Hil was unaccountably jealous of his previous acquaintance with Eleanor. Inconceivable.

"It's so good to see you again," she started. "I must apologize for my appearance."

"No you mustn't," Hil interrupted her.

"But I wasn't planning on seeing anyone else this morning," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Wiley. It has been ages. Alasdair and Julianna were just speaking of you the other day."

"Believe her," Wiley said. "You know Alasdair lies like a devil."

Eleanor laughed and relaxed within the circle of Hil's arm. "He does, but he does it badly," she agreed. "He never could bluff me at cards, no matter how he tried, the poor thing."

Wiley crossed his arms and wagged a finger at her. "Never could take me in, though. Figures Hil would get a smart one who was pretty, too. d.a.m.n lucky, the sod."

"Thank you," Eleanor said with a little curtsy. "What love letters were you talking about?"

Wiley started to answer, but then looked at Hil, unsure. Because he trusted Eleanor, Hil told her the truth. "A young man came to me and asked me to find his deceased grandmother's love letters from Tsar Alexander. He claims she told him that they had an affair when she was young, and his father was the tsar's son."