Devil in My Arms: A Loveswept Historical Romance (The Saint's Devils) Read online

  “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 assault 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 embarrassment.

  “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 muffled 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 goddess. 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 identity will be at risk,” she said, slapping his hand away.

  “Your identity 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 damn 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 circumstance, but by circumstances 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 damn 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 reassurance 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. God 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 sexual congress, and he’d gone slowly with her, initiating her to real passion 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 glass 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. Damn 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.”

  “Hmm,” Eleanor said thoughtfully. “And you’re sure that his claim is credible?” At Hil’s nod, she stared over his shoulder for a minute or two. “I assume he wouldn’t be in the line of succession, as he is illegitimate. Goode. Goode. It’s not a name I recognize. How might they have met?”

  “The late Mrs. Goode was lady’s maid to the wife of a British diplomat in Russia,” Hil said. “They must have met there.”

  “Oh, Alexander,” she murmured, “you naughty boy. Diddling with the servants. I assume he looked in her personal effects, of course.”

  “Of course,” Hil said. “He’d checked her personal effects and her private accounts, as well. As her heir, he had complete access. And he gave me the same courtesy. I have double-checked all of those places. I’ve very nearly torn the apartments down looking for them.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Not complete access. I’m guessing he left the funeral arrangements to someone else. Something like that … If she kept them all that time, they meant something to her. They had a love affair. She took them with her.”

  “I—she what?” Hil stared at her, uncomprehending.

  Eleanor pulled her hood over her head. “You will need to exhume her body. You will find the letters either on her person, perhaps sewed into the lining of her petticoats, or in the casket.” She looked up at him with a serious expression. “If it’s that important to find them, of course. You must weigh the need against the disrespect of desecrating her grave. If she’d wanted her grandson to have them, she’d have given them to him. If she took them with her to the grave, then the grave is where they belong. In my opinion.”

  “Damn me if she isn’t as bloody brilliant as you,” Wiley muttered. “Always suspected as much.”

  Hil was aghast. “I never, madam, even considered such a possibility.”

  “You, sir,” she said as she walked over to the door, “are a man.” She turned and faced him. “And as such, you must escort me home immediately. The sun is rising. Good morning, Wiley.”

  Wiley tipped a nonexistent hat. “Good morning, ma’am.” He turned to Hil. “I like her. Let’s keep her. She keeps you in line and lightens my workload.”

  Hil had no response to that as he followed Eleanor out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why, Mrs. Fairchild,” Hil said as he bowed over her hand, “imagine my su
rprise at finding you here. I had no idea you would be in attendance this evening.”

  Eleanor raised a brow and smiled wryly at him. They had both been in attendance at almost every single event to which Eleanor had been invited in the past three weeks. Tonight’s supper party was just the last of a long line of not-so-secret assignations. The script varied little at each event. He would express surprise and then engage her in mundane conversation for most of the evening, never leaving her side. People were not only talking, they were speculating furiously. So much for discretion. But she was so deliriously happy she found it hard to care.

  “Really?” she replied with mock bewilderment. “I’m sure I made no secret of it. How are you this evening, Sir Hilary?”

  “Much better now, madam,” he said on cue. He straightened and took his place at her side.

  “Oh, look,” Roger said in a monotone, “Hil is here. What a shock.”

  “Hush,” Harry told him, not very quietly. “I think it’s charming.”

  “I am charming,” Hil agreed, and Eleanor giggled. He smiled at her as he placed her hand on his arm. “Let’s walk.”

  “I like to walk,” Eleanor said. “I try to do it every day, when flying is unavailable to me.”

  “Just so,” Hil said. “Fly away, little bird.”

  “They are disgusting,” she heard Roger say to Harry as she and Hil moved off.

  The supper party was small by some standards. Only twenty people or so. The drawing room doors were open to the adjoining music room, creating a larger area in which to walk. There were lively conversations going on all over, and Miss Millette was playing the piano.