‘Yes. Yes, we do. But somewhere warm and dry perhaps.’ She was still smiling. Not angry or disgusted, but an intimate and contented smile before she tugged him to follow.
The mile between them and the house didn’t feel like a mile, nor did the pummelling rain or the random bursts of thunder and lightning diminish the peculiar atmosphere now surrounding them. They held hands all the way, but never said a word, letting go only out of necessity when they reached the rope. He had to help her to climb it, which was a delightful excuse to touch her body again. Only her waist and hips this time, but enough to relight the fires of desire as she disappeared over the window sill back into her bedchamber. Then he took a moment to pause and consider what he was going to say.
There was no denying his feelings now. Not to himself. She was his everything and more. So much more than he had ever dared dream of. Beautiful, funny, a joy to be around. No wonder she had been declared anIncomparableso long ago. To Seb she was beyond compare. Did he risk telling her?
Was such a declaration too soon? It wasn’t for him, but this wasn’t all about him and for all he knew she still had her sights set on the fool Westbridge. Away from the fraught emotion of the clifftop, she might already have second thoughts. Perhaps a more measured and cautious approach was best, all things considered. Seb would listen first to what she had to say, then respond accordingly.How are you feeling about what we just did?Of course that all hinged on whether she immediately regretted it. Westbridge might well be a fool, but he was a legitimate one. He had a title, a huge estate, wealth. Things Seb couldn’t compete with. Could Gem forgive him for the circumstances of his birth? She hadn’t seemed to mind it before now—but then romance had not been on the cards then. Was it now? Did he dare to dream?If you are agreeable, I would like to... What? Marry you? Make love to you? Court you? Yes to all three.
Baby steps were probably best while he gauged the lie of the land. No heartfelt declarations should be made until there had been thorough recognisance. Subtle enquiries, careful observation and gentle hints were the way forward. He would be a gentleman about the kiss and remind her it had happened in the heat of the moment, then see what she had to say about it. Content he had a plan of action, Seb braced his arms on the stone and heaved himself inside.
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’ She was sat on the bed wringing out her hair, the stolen coat a soggy heap at her feet. Had he not already known she was gloriously naked beneath the shirt, the translucent wet linen would have told him in no uncertain terms. The dark circles of her nipples were obvious in the candlelight, the fabric clinging to her breasts and leaving nothing to his imagination. His intended words dried to dust in his throat and with it came the return of his crippling awkwardness. It securely nailed his boots to the floor and bound his jaws with wire.
‘I do love it when you blush. It’s a very endearing quality.’ He could hear the laughter in her voice and forced himself to meet her gaze. If he couldn’t overcome the shyness, then he would never choke out the words he intended to say.
‘I...er...’ He gave up trying to speak and went back to staring at the floor, which stalwartly refused to open up for him.
‘Do I need to fetch you some brandy? A little Dutch courage...’ What did that mean? Whatdidshe want him to say? ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Seb!’ She was giggling now and patting the mattress next to her. Then her blue eyes darkened and her expression became all serious. ‘Come here. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.’
‘Your clothes are wet, too.’ Where had that voice come from? It almost sounded flirtatious.
‘They are. I shall probably need your help to remove them.’ Gem was looking at him through her lashes, spiked with rain, her own voice laced with the sultry coquettish edge which she wielded with such precision—except this was no harmless flirtation or a contrived one intended to put him in his place. Seb might be famously useless around women, but he recognised an invitation when he heard one. Even if he hadn’t, the moment she leaned back on her hands and the translucent shirt stretched across her bare breasts there was no denying the movement had been deliberate. She knew exactly what he saw. Knew and revelled in it.
‘It would be my pleasure.’ All at once, his awkwardness evaporated, replaced by sheer carnal desire which needed to be slaked. With more confidence than he had ever displayed towards the opposite sex, Seb walked slowly forward, his eyes devouring the sight of her shamelessly displayed before him. He shrugged out of his wet coat and let it drop loudly on the floor, then reached out a hand. When she placed hers in it he tugged her to stand and pulled her so close she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. The few inches of air between their bodies seemed to crackle with the anticipation, but despite his rampant arousal, Seb had no desire to rush.
This miracle needed to be savoured.
He began by removing the wet ribbon from her hair, then unwinding what was left of the thick plait. The weight of the rainwater had completely undone the work of her curling iron and it hung in a ruler-straight curtain almost to her waist. Seb rejoiced in the lack of ringlets, allowing the silky, damp strands to run through his fingers, knowing no other man had ever been granted the image of her as nature intended. To torment them both, he nuzzled her neck and nibbled on her ear, enjoying her soft exhale of breath as she swayed towards him.
With aching tenderness, he began to peel the wet linen from her body. As if in a sensual trance, Gem raised her arms the second her beautiful breasts were exposed and shivered as the air whispered over her pebbled nipples. Seb’s sharp intake of breath at their perfection made her smile before her face disappeared briefly as he lifted the shirt away. Wearing just that knowing, feminine look and breeches was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen. Even his wildest fantasies had not prepared him for the reality.
Pert, rounded flesh capped with dark-pink, saucily erect nipples he ached to touch. And taste.
As if reading his mind, she wound her arms around his neck like a temptress, flattening her needy breasts against his chest and depriving him of the view. ‘Kiss me.’
Who was he to argue? His mouth grazed hers gently and she sighed into it, clearly in no hurry either. This kiss was different. It still burned, but with the slow heat of anticipation rather than the fiery need for satisfaction. They had the rest of the night. No need to rush. The tip of her tongue lapped at his. He could feel the aroused peaks of her breasts through the damp linen of his own shirt. The bold press of her hips against his hardness. When her hands began to explore his skin beneath the fabric, he let her without interruption. The shirt slid upwards and her nipples brushed his abdomen. Seb tossed the shirt to the soggy heap of clothes on the floor and filled his hands with her deliciously curved bottom, pulling her hips flush against his. She undulated against him, those perfect breasts rising and falling as she explored his chest. Bizarrely, the starburst scar from the bullet was super-sensitive. His throaty groan as she traced the shape of it empowered her and she replaced her questing palms with her lips.
Pure heaven.
Without him realising it, his fingers had begun working on the buttons of her breeches at the same time as she began to work on his. Suddenly the need to feel naked flesh from head to toe made them both hurry. Both clumsy. They laughed as they wrestled with the clinging fabric, momentarily abandoning the luxury of undressing one another as they hastily stripped the last remaining wet layer off, then the laughter died as they took a few seconds to simply stare at each other. Stripped bare in every way.
* * *
Seb was big. Very big. His height. The broad shoulders and strong arms. Muscular legs stood slightly apart and that part of him jutting proudly. Intimidating yet exciting. Six feet plus of very aroused male. She had put him in that state. He had bewitched her in much the same manner. Her desire for him, for what would come next, overruled her apprehension that they wouldn’t fit together. They had to fit together or her body would spontaneously combust from the wanting.
But laying with him was a huge step. Her tummy fluttered at the enormity of what it all meant. She was throwing away the security of being a duchess for a man who made her heart sing. Hoping laughter lines and love would be protection enough.
He must have seen her trepidation.
‘I won’t hurt you.’
‘I know.’ As if he could? In a rush, all those doubts dissolved. Seb was the better man. The only man she needed. With him she would be safe and protected and gloriously happy rather than ashamed of all she was not. Seb saw what she was, flaws and all, yet wanted her regardless. That glorious acceptance set her free.
Her hands came up to frame his face. There was no more doubt. Seb was a gentle giant. Her gentle giant. No other man would do. Clarissa stood on tiptoe to kiss him and then threw her head back and laughed as he lifted her into those powerful arms and gently placed her on the bed. Then the awkwardness she adored about him surfaced once again as he hesitated.
‘We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m happy to wait...’
‘Well, I’m not.’ As if she could. ‘We both know I’m intrinsically selfish. I want you now. This minute, in fact.’
To prove her point Clarissa shuffled over to make room for him on the mattress, then delighted at the way his eyes darkened with desire when she shamelessly stretched out, lying propped on one elbow in naked invitation. ‘You have the oddest effect on me, Seb Leatham. Look at me.’ He did, with such intensity it made her womb ache and her breasts throb. ‘I’ve never been with a man before. Never ever been naked in front of another person before—yet I am apparently quite content to be so with you.’ Because he made her feel more beautiful than she had ever felt in her life. All the thousands of compliments, all the flowery words, bouquets from admirers, all the nonsense that came with being anIncomparable, all of that paled against the way Seb looked at her. He was no wordsmith, but he was perfect that way. He couldn’t say them and she couldn’t read them. What a splendid pair they made!
