Dangerous Beauty Page 5

  Fashions had clearly progressed while he had been away. Women in the colonies were still wearing the highwaisted frocks that fell from armpit to ankle. He had been astonished at the full-skirted gowns London considered to be essential now, the skirts were supported by layers of petticoats and starching.

  And the sleeves…. On Natasha, the drop sleeve device all the women were wearing seemed like a most delicious strategy to capture attention. The sleeves actually sat off her shoulders and were so ridiculously puffed and ruffled that they looked in danger of sliding right down her arms, pulling the rest of the dress with them. The provoking idea was more than enough to keep a man’s attention riveted firmly on her creamy white shoulders and the bounty beneath.

  Seth could feel his body tighten in response and his heart, which had been steadying, gave a little fluttering half beat, before hurrying on. Suddenly, he wished he had a glass of the port he had just been swigging, so he might knock it back and let the burning of the alcohol distract him from the low pull at his groin.

  Then he noticed the expression in her eyes. They were soft and full of sympathy. Fury touched him. He wanted no man’s sympathy—especially not this beautiful, spoiled woman to whom the idea of being totally alone in the world, of being discarded and shunned, was inconceivable.

  As she moved toward him, her silk skirts swishing with each step, he deliberately immersed his mind in crudities, as a way of punishing her for her ignorance. He imagined those long legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her. God, but she was ripe for the plucking! His gaze settled for a moment on the swell of full breasts above her low-cut gown, the pale globes threatening to spill over.

  He groaned inwardly. What he would give to bury himself to the hilt and forget about this disastrous night! Perhaps he should take her to Ireland with him. She would be a very nice diversion.

  Then every delicious thought scattered and his mind stuttered to silence, for she circled her arms about his waist, laid her head against his shoulder and…just held him. For a moment he couldn’t even breathe. Everything about her enveloped him—her sweet perfume, her soft body and the insistent push of her breasts against him.

  How long had it been since a woman had tried to comfort him? Always they sought him out for sex, for mating, expecting nothing else in return but a sound fucking. But she was different. She held him out of compassion.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of her scent—an exotic blend of floral and spices. Her hand moved up and down his back, soothing him, unconsciously causing a deep ache in his groin. It seemed all the blood in his body had raced to his cock, which throbbed against the buttons of his pants.

  God help him, but he wanted her, this innocent young woman who knew nothing of his sordid past. It was no casual need that strummed through him, now. Her empathy had changed it, had reached deeper than the superficial bodily ache. Even as she cuddled closer, her cheek resting against his shoulder, his arms remained at his sides while warning bells sounded in his head. This woman alone had sought him out in a dark room, while over five hundred people milled about downstairs.

  But what if someone walked in on them? The comforting embrace would be misinterpreted and scandal would rock the ton.

  Yet he already knew Natasha would not care what others thought. He had seen it on her face the first instant he saw her. She found the excesses as tedious and grueling as he did. No, she would not be happy married to an effeminate shipping magnate or any other rigid peer of the realm. She wanted a man, a real man. She had said as much to him downstairs—not in those words, because she did not have the experience to recognize what made her so restless and dissatisfied.

  But he had recognized it, just as he had recognized her stubbornness, her determination to defy her entire world, if it would give her what she wanted. She had understood his pain, even if she did not know the details, and now offered comfort, even though her mother and every other woman in her life must have instilled in her the dangers of being in a room alone with a man.

  She was a woman of rare courage. If she knew the dangers and her wide eyes when she first stepped into the room told him that she did, then she had deliberately flaunted conventions to take what she wanted.

  His heart was starting to hurt as he put it together. She had spoken of Vaughn Wardell teaching her to value a true relationship, not an empty marriage. And now she had sought him out.

  She wanted him, Seth Harrow. She wanted the pleasures he could bring her. Virgin she may be, but there had been awareness in her eyes, on the ballroom floor, that convinced him she understood the mating dance.

  Finally, he allowed himself movement—a test of her intentions. His hands moved to circle her waist and he smiled as his fingers touched each other behind her.

  Her breath caught in her throat, a tiny hitch. She looked up at him, her long dark lashes shielding the desire he saw there.

  Excitement thrummed through him. “Why do ye follow me, Natasha?” His voice was husky with longing.

  He could feel her heart pumping wildly against his chest. She licked her lips and her eyes dropped under his gaze. It was a telling sign. She knew, yes, but she could not bring herself to speak the words. Her courage had brought her only this far.

  Pleasure thrilled through him. The combination of innocence and wantonness was overwhelming. He lifted a hand from her waist to the back of her soft, sweet shoulder and tugged gently, so that her back arched away from him. He felt her hips beneath the starched petticoats, pressing against his swollen cock. Her breasts were thrust towards him. He cupped one of them with his other hand.

  She gasped, stiffened and he thought she would pull back. Instead, she looked up at him and her beautiful blue eyes narrowed a little.

  Then she relaxed, all within the space of a second. Yes, she knew what she sought. “I could see you were upset by the countess’ behavior,” she said and her voice was low, controlled.

  He brushed his thumb over her nipple and her breath caught. Pink tinged her cheeks, but she did not pull away.

  He smiled as the bud tightened beneath the silk gown and rigid material of her corset.

  “That feels positively wonderful,” she breathed. There was a devilish smile on her full lips and his excitement leapt to a higher plane, the surge of it battering at his mind and body.

  He could not help himself. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue stroking the seam of her lush lips, asking for entry.

  Tentatively, the lips opened and her tongue caressed his in a bold experiment, while her hands latched onto his shoulders.

  He could drown himself utterly within her. He could sink into the sensual pleasures she offered, ignore every demand that hammered at his life and drink of her until it all went away and she was all that remained. He grasped her bottom through the petticoats and pulled her tighter to him, rubbing his thick arousal against her belly.

  He heard her light gasp and then her soft moan. It was a true wanton’s exhalation and it was the most erotic sound he had ever heard.

  Before he lost his restraint altogether, he ripped his mouth from hers. He was amazed to realize he was panting. “Did ye mother never teach ye how dangerous it’d be in a room alone with a man?”

  The side of her mouth lifted slightly, and her passion-filled eyes drifted closed for a moment. “I know what I want and it stands before me.”

  The knowledge in her expression acted like a goad. He slid his hand beneath the heavy skirts, searching for and quickly finding the slit in her drawers. He clenched his jaw against the groan of delight that seized him as he touched her there.

  But she did not constrain herself. She fell against him with a low, womanly moan of pleasure, as he found her hot, wet center. He stroked her until she was panting. His thumb brushed over her clit and her breath hitched.

  There was such profound excitement in stroking a woman and knowing it was the first time she had ever experienced such pleasure. He did not know if he would have the strength to stop. Surely she would find
this too overwhelming for her innocence, and tear herself away?

  “Tell me to stop and I will,” he demanded, his voice ragged.

  Her chest heaved as she stared up at him. “Don’t stop.” Her voice cracked.

  With a groan, he lowered his head and kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers as he slipped a finger inside her. Her honeyed walls gripped him tight. Heaven help him, she was a virgin. So hot, so tight…his cock throbbed. His whole body ached with the surges of pleasure rushing through it.

  He lifted her, crossed the room and laid her down gently on the settee. Her gaze flitted over him and settled on his prominent erection. Her cheeks bloomed with color despite her daring. It made him recall what he had forgotten in the last few moments—that she was the daughter of a lord and innocent, to boot. She was destined to marry a man with title and wealth. That man would expect his wife to be a virgin when he came to her on her wedding night. The society she lived in would crucify him for sullying one of their daughters, but the punishment they reserved for her would be far, far worse. They may not physically beat her, but this society had other, powerful ways of making a woman’s life miserable and empty.

  She licked her full lips, before meeting his gaze once more. God, he needed release. He trembled with it.

  He lifted one of her dainty feet, took off her shoe and tossed it aside. The other quickly joined it. His fingers encircled her ankles, drawing upward over the soft silk of her stockings, baring her skin to his gaze. Her long, slender legs were creamy white and as soft as silk against his fingers. How he would love to undress her, to take the time to unveil every inch of her pale skin. But the music floating up from downstairs reminded him where they were and that the absence of a young titled woman would soon be noted.

  Time was crowding him. Though his instincts were telling him to walk her to the door and escort her back downstairs, he could not end it that way. He wanted to leave a small fragment of himself with her—an indelible mark on her soul. He knew what he had to do.

  * * * * *

  Natasha’s heart hammered loudly as Seth looked down at her, his striking eyes shimmering with a promise she didn’t fully understand. The sides of his mouth lifted in a sensual smile that sent excitement rippling along her spine.

  She had already experienced so much that was thrillingly new. She knew she would spend many hours turning it over in her memory, studying it and recalling the rush of feelings and emotions he touched off in her.

  For now she simply accepted all that was happening, absorbing it. He went to his knees beside the settee and used his hands to spread her thighs.

  She was puzzled but before she could articulate her question, he pulled her bottom close to the edge and bent his head. Her breath left her in a rush as his long, velvet-smooth tongue stroked her slit.

  She could not believe his daring, nor her own, but she could not stop him to save her life. Her fingers latched on to his shoulders and she squeezed with each flick of his tongue.

  Though her better judgment told her to run, she could not deny the pleasure he gave her. Her body hummed, pulsing with an energy she had never known. She glanced at the closed door, knowing they could be caught at any moment. All it would take is someone to open it and she would be forever ruined. The scandal! And though she knew the risk, she could not stop him.

  Instead, she glanced down at him, mesmerized by the sight of him pleasuring her. His fine silky hair brushed against the insides of her thighs. His long lashes cast shadows upon jutting cheekbones and as though sensing her perusal, he looked up.

  Her stomach tightened when she saw unmistakable desire in those silver depths. His tongue flicked over the tiny nub of flesh, making her shift her hips. She moaned and was amazed at the animal sound emerging from her, but Seth’s only reaction was the sides of his mouth lifting just a little.

  She closed her eyes as the tension within her body tightened. Then his hand covered her breast, his fingers caressing the nipple through the thick fabric of her gown…and she was lost.

  Her breathing quickened and she was lifted higher and higher with each stroke of his tongue and his fingers, until she reached a pinnacle, the like of which she had never before known. Her body pulsed, her channel contracted as she rode it out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

  When her heart returned to a normal beat, she opened her eyes. Seth was still on his knees and gently pulled her dress back into a decorous state. She could see his erection, swelling against the fabric of his pants.

  Understanding flared in her. By rights, Seth should have his pleasure, too. She yearned to ease his ache and knew that he would not dare take her here. They had risked too much already.

  Her channel still throbbed, with a deep ache, one she now knew could only be satisfied by his length filling her.

  He leaned forward, kissed her hard. She tasted alcohol and another flavor that she realized with a start was her own essence.

  “You must go now,” he said against her lips and then he stood, bringing her with him.

  As she swayed, finding her balance, he retrieved her slippers and slid them onto her feet with gentle fingers. Natasha walked to the door on unsteady legs, finding it hard to believe that scant moments before she had been a naïve girl, with little knowledge of making love to a man.

  Now she was a woman, completely aware of the pleasure a man could give her. Her body ached for the ultimate completion that she knew only Seth could provide.

  “I want to see you again,” she blurted before she could stop herself. The thought of him sailing off to Ireland, after what had just happened, was too horrible to contemplate.

  He grinned boyishly. “And you shall, but for now you must return or someone is sure to come looking for you.”

  She stared at him, taking in every detail of his handsome face, settling on his mouth that had just pleasured her. How she yearned to give him the pleasure that he had so skillfully given her.

  “Let them,” she replied. “I don’t care.”

  “You should.” His answer was a whiplash. Then he sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it in an agreeable way. “There’s so much you don’t understand, that you cannot know, that I dare not explain to ye. You must trust me in this. Now is not the time to recklessly abandon your life.”

  “But—”

  He laid a finger across her mouth. “Trust me, lass.” His gray eyes stared into hers, willing her to accept it.

  Finally, she nodded. “I gave you my trust the moment I walked into this room, and you did not disappoint me. So I will trust you once again. Thank you, Seth Harrow.”

  Chapter Five

  Seth found the brandy decanter and poured himself a thick, solid belt of the fine gold liquid. He drank, keeping his mind blank, then finished it off in one swallow. He still trembled.

  He set the glass down on the mahogany table with a thud, and looked at the door Natasha had just passed through.

  What in God’s name had he been thinking?

  He ran a hand through his hair. He could have ruined her in an instant. Destroyed her, and caused a scandal the likes of which London had not seen for decades. After the six years he’d spent in MacQuarrie Harbour, he knew better than to let his passions rule his common sense. He’d slipped, and slipped badly, tonight. He could not afford to make such a mistake.

  Yet how sweet she had tasted! He smiled as he recalled her soft moans and the feel of her fingers digging into his shoulders. How he wanted to bury himself deep within her tight channel, to teach her all the ways to make love. He lifted his fingers to his nose, inhaling her musky scent.

  Leave her alone, Seth! his conscience taunted. He shook the memory away, as well as the desire.

  He made his way back to the staircase, wanting nothing more than to escape into the night, back to the Artemis. Back to the familiar. He had seen his mother, and had his answer. Harry had been right—this place was an alien land for him, now. There was nothing more for him in London.

  Excep
t Natasha. He frowned. He had promised to meet her again and he would abide by the promise, but the meeting must be the last. He must sever the tie that had sprung up between them, as gently as he could.

  Perhaps he should ask Vaughn Wardell the trick of it, since he’d managed to maintain their friendship.

  And you would be the second man to break her heart. Guilt prodded him and he tried to argue his way around it. She had found him. He had not encouraged her in the slightest. She had enticed him, but no excuse would push away the truth—that a connection had been born between them this night that would never go away.

  As he descended the staircase to the ballroom floor, he barely noticed the stares of a group of young women. Their whispers and soft giggling might have amused him at any other time.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Natasha. She stood with another, older woman, and Piggot. The strange man’s hand rested possessively on her hip. Her cheeks were still pink. Although she was smiling pleasantly, her eyes were wary.

  She saw him and his heart skipped a beat as her lips curved into a soft smile that lit up her whole face. Perhaps he would spend one more night in London…to see her again.

  “Why, Seth Harrow, seeing you standing there in your fine gentleman’s clothing, I might be led to believe it was you who went slumming last night.” The husky voice behind him was familiar and the words confirmed the woman’s identity. The whoring duchess he’d bedded last night was now standing behind him.

  Seth swore under his breath at the fates, but managed a smile as he turned to face her. He knew he could not bluff his way out of it. The duchess knew who he was, she would not have dared speak of such indelicate matters otherwise.