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

  “More closed eyes?” she said with a seductive smile. “I’m already enjoying the anticipation.”

  “Eleanor,” he said a bit impatiently.

  “Fine.” She closed her eyes. “Better?”

  Hil placed the cravat over her eyes and tied it loosely on the back of her head. She went absolutely still and her breathing became erratic. “Too much?” he asked. If she said yes, he’d remove it right away. This was meant to be a bit of a lesson in trust, but he still wanted it to be enjoyable for both of them.

  “That depends,” she said, her voice a little weak. She hadn’t stepped away from him or removed her hands from his chest. He let his hands rest lightly on her hips. He didn’t want her to feel trapped. “What are you going to do? Spin me around and make me find you?”

  He laughed. “No. Childish games are not what I have in mind.” He ran a finger slowly down her exposed arm and she shivered. “Do you trust me?” he asked again.

  She hesitated a split second. “Yes,” she finally answered, her voice firm and sure. Hil breathed a sigh of relief. “But open a window,” she asked and his relief was tempered by concern.

  “If it’s too much,” he told her, “we can stop. There will be other nights.”

  “No,” she said quickly, her fingers latching on to his banyan. “I want to do this. Show me.”

  He kissed her cheek and she jerked back slightly. Then she smiled. “I liked that. A bit of a shock, not knowing what you’re going to do. It gave me a jolt. I’m tingling.” She rubbed her cheek.

  “You’ll be tingling all over before the night is through,” he vowed. “I’m going to open the window.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said a little breathlessly. He stepped away and quickly threw the window open wide enough for her to feel a rush of cool air.

  She took a deep breath and visibly relaxed.

  “Now I’m going to finish undressing you.”

  “So we’re going to play lady’s maid,” she said with a half smile, her head quirking to the side just a bit, as if she were trying to determine exactly where his voice was coming from. “Do I get to play the randy duke?”

  That brought Hil up short. “What do you know about those games?” he asked, surprised.

  She laughed. “Nothing, really. Harry mentioned something in the same soliloquy that extolled Roger’s incandescence.”

  “That is perhaps more than I need to know about my old friend,” Hil said wryly, blocking the image that came to mind. “Come here.” He put his hand on her hip and gently pulled her toward him, just two little steps, but she stumbled a bit and fell into him.

  “Oh! It’s rather difficult, isn’t it, to judge distance or even walk when you’re blind. I never thought about that.” She had grabbed his arm for support and now let go of it as she straightened in front of him. She patted his chest. “Sorry. Go on.”

  Hil untied her petticoat and lowered it slowly, sliding his hands first over her shoulders to push the straps down her arms, and then over her bottom and down her thighs until he let it drop at her knees. By the time he let it go, she had both hands on his shoulders and her breathing was erratic. “Oh, my,” she whispered when it collapsed on her feet. Each time he got her naked, he felt as if he were uncovering a mysterious secret, discovering a treasure that no man had found before.

  He stood and, taking her hand, said, “Step out of it, my dear.” She did as directed and Hil tugged on her hand, leading her over to the bed. Her steps were hesitant, but she followed his lead. “Sit.” He guided her to the edge of the bed and with just a slight pressure on her shoulder, eased her down.

  Kneeling at her feet, he slid one slipper off, then the other. He kneaded her calves and she groaned. “Oh, that feels good,” she purred. “More.” He spent minutes massaging her legs and feet, loving the feel of her silk stockings. The silk was cool to the touch, but the heat of her leg pushed through it. They were plain white stockings with white garters. The garters had a black embroidered border around the ruffled edge.

  “Did you embroider these?” he asked, slipping a finger under the garter just above her knee and tugging on it. Not hard enough to pull it off. He didn’t want them off yet. He liked them.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice relaxed. She was leaning back on the bed, balanced on her elbows. “It wasn’t that hard.”

  “I don’t care how hard it was,” he said. “I just like to imagine you embroidering garters. Were you hoping I’d see them?”

  She laughed, her head thrown back so that she faced the ceiling. “Hardly. I wanted to wear fine things for me, not for anyone else.”

  “I’m crushed.” He wasn’t really. He was intrigued by that notion, too. The idea of Eleanor standing in front of a mirror admiring herself in her embroidered garters.

  “Don’t be.” She sat up and reached out blindly for him. He leaned his cheek into her palm and she caressed it. “I didn’t know you, yet. I did it at Throckton’s, after we’d seen one another for all of fifteen minutes or so. There wasn’t enough time then to have developed a tendre for you.”

  “And now?” he asked, unashamedly fishing for sweet words.

  “And now I am at your mercy, garters and all,” she replied with a wicked smile. “Do your worst.”

  “I was rather hoping to do my best,” he murmured, kissing the inside of her bare thigh.

  “I think that’s a better plan,” she said, followed by a little stuttering breath when his lips met her skin.

  He suddenly found he could wait no more, and pulled the garters off. As he hastily rolled her stockings down, she inquired, “In a rush, are we?”

  “I am now,” he said fervently and she laughed. He paused a moment, letting the sound wash over him. He liked that laugh best of all. It was as if she wasn’t wearing the blindfold now. She sounded as relaxed and playful as she’d been the last time they were together.

  After tossing aside her stockings he stood up and backed away to take off his banyan and trousers. “Hil?” she asked fearfully, sitting up so quickly she nearly toppled off the bed.

  He inwardly cursed his clumsiness. “Right here,” he answered, touching her knee. “I simply stepped away to take off my clothes.”

  She let out an unsteady breath. “Oh, all right.” After a pause she frowned. “This blindfold now seems unnaturally cruel if I don’t get to see you undress.”

  He crawled up on the bed beside her, not touching her, and she turned in his direction, smiling. “Is it hide and seek?” she asked.

  “Where on earth are we going to hide ourselves?” He slid in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, just under her bare breasts, pushing them higher so he could admire them. “Or have you forgotten we’re both naked?”

  She snuggled back with his encouragement. “No I haven’t forgotten,” she replied, her voice low with the heat of a passion he’d come to crave. “How could I?” She pulled one of his hands up onto her breast. “But I will if you don’t do something useful with my state of undress.”

  “I have always been the sort of man to make use of a naked lady.” He winced and cleared his throat. “Make that, a naked Eleanor.”

  She laughed uproariously at his faux pas. “No, I think you had it right the first time. I was told upon our early acquaintance that you possessed legendary bedroom skills.”

  He dragged her back further onto the bed and tumbled her underneath him, rolling on top of her and pinning her arms above her head. Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “And?”

  “And I can honestly confirm the rumor,” she said, arching her neck to the side to give him more access.

  “You do know,” he said, pulling back and frowning down at her, “that you are the only woman I have bedded since my infatuation with you began?”

  “Yes,” she said drily. “Let me assure you that I am well aware you are not living up to your rakish reputation.”

  “On the contrary, madam,” he said with a lascivious grin, “society thinks I am more than living up
to it with you.”

  “The poor widow and the Devil?” she inquired sweetly. “How appropriate.”

  He rested his lips on hers lightly and then said against them, “You forget. I am the innocent one. You are a wicked widow, and I your hapless victim.”

  “The man is always the last to know,” she agreed and they both laughed.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Yes. Implicitly.”

  He nudged her knee aside with his, and she spread her legs so he could insinuate himself between them. “You’re not nervous or scared at all?” he asked, determined to stop if she had the least little doubt.

  “Nonsense,” she said lightly. “What I am is impatient. This game of yours has unexpectedly made me as randy as the wicked widow you claim I am. So do your best before I’m forced to take over.”

  “Take over?” Hil mused. “While it sounds intriguing, I do not think this is something that you can do for yourself.”

  Her laughter was low, throaty in that way it became when they were sharing intimacies. He didn’t think he was wrong to assume he was the only man who had heard it. “I concede you are correct,” she admitted with a smile that was anything but regretful.

  He slid down and placed a kiss on her stomach. “Hardly necessary,” he told her.

  “I am usually right, with or without your concession. Do you trust me?” He pushed further down, his prize in sight.

  “You know I do,” she said. “But I want you to know you may be right, but you are also conceited, vain, self-aggrandizing—” She stopped her breathless recitation of his faults when he blew softly against the very center of her. Her breath stuttered in a way that made him feel all the things she was accusing him of, as well as a great deal of satisfaction. “But don’t let that stop you,” she finished. “Once begun is only half done.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Far be it from me to leave something as important as this undone.” He kissed her then, kissed the damp heat of her and marveled at her taste, and her passion as she arched her back and gripped his head, pressing his mouth to her. He obliged her silent command and loved her ruthlessly with his mouth. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and held her open, a veritable feast of pleasure for a starving man. He’d dreamed of this the last two nights as he tossed and turned waiting for her to return to his arms.

  Her cry of completion was music to his ears. He’d taken her there again, taken her to that place she’d never known before he came along and upset all her plans.

  “Hilary,” she said, still breathless several minutes after her release. “Laugh then, and be yourself, but give me, my dear sweet, one kiss. The gods that on Olympus live, have never known such bliss.”

  “Ah, Shakespeare. Now there was a man who knew about love,” he said, kissing her thighs and then her stomach.

  “Remind me not to question your legendary skill again.” She tugged on his hair.

  He chuckled as he crawled back up over her and kissed her lightly. “When you question it, I simply have to prove it. Truly, there is no way for you to lose in that scenario.”

  “Point taken,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “Now I want to be taken.”

  “Never,” Hil told her. “I will only receive that which you offer. I will never take anything from you, Eleanor, that you don’t gladly give.”

  “Oh, Hilary,” she said softly. “Take this bloody cravat off me so I can see you.”

  “Don’t you trust me to do what I say I will?” he teased.

  “I want to watch you do it,” she said, clearly exasperated.

  He gave in to her pleas with a gentle laugh and untied the cravat, pulling it away slowly. He knew how much she enjoyed seeing the two of them joined. It was a deliciously erotic thing to watch her as she stared at them together. She blinked several times and when he came into focus she gave him a sultry smile. “I trust you have not changed your mind?” she teased.

  “I trust you shall be pleased to hear that I have not,” he answered back, kissing her neck and shoulder.

  “Is there enough trust now?” she murmured, turning her head to the side to show him exactly where she wanted to be kissed. Eleanor was rarely shy in bed anymore. He was glad. He didn’t want a lady, he wanted a lover. “There better be, or else I really will take charge.”

  “What a splendid idea,” he murmured. He rolled them over again until she was sprawled on top of him. Ever since their first time together she had enjoyed this position the most. Without missing a beat, she awkwardly rose above him until she was straddling his hips, her hands on his chest.

  “My balance is in question after what you just did,” she said doubtfully, “but I’m willing to give this my best effort.” She scooted down a bit until she was satisfied with her position. She got a grin on her face that reminded him of a cat who found the cream. “Ah, there you are,” she murmured.

  “If I haven’t seen your best effort before,” he said, his breathing becoming fast and shallow with a desperate need for her, “then I fear for my sanity if you unveil it now.”

  She laughed and straightened on her knees. “Perhaps you should recite some mathematical equations in your head, then,” she suggested as she slid down onto him. “To protect your sanity,” she finished with a relieved and satisfied sigh.

  “Damn my sanity.” He grabbed her hips and held on tightly. “Take me, I’m yours.”

  “That sounded suspiciously like a declaration,” she accused him with a teasing note in her voice. She leaned one elbow on his chest and rested her chin in her open palm. Her expression was more mischievous than he’d ever seen it. She traced a pattern on his chest with one lazy finger. “Remember, this is a temporary thing, you and I. There are no declarations allowed here.”

  Her absolute refusal to put a name to this thing between them was frustrating to Hil. There was something inside him that needed to identify it, to categorize it and neatly label it. “No declarations,” he practically growled as she began to move. “Only heartfelt thanks.”

  She leaned down and unerringly found his ear. “I trust you to always be a gentleman,” she whispered.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered back, “I will never hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  He knew she didn’t understand what that really meant. Not yet. But she would. As soon as he figured it out himself, that is.

  Chapter Eleven

  “And just where do you think you’re going?” Roger’s voice slid through the dark kitchen. Eleanor froze with her hand still reaching for the doorknob. She’d gotten lazy. She hadn’t checked to see if anyone was about before hurrying over to the back door.

  “Going for a walk?” she tried, but she could tell it was a weak response. She was on her way to Hilary’s, of course, and her heart sank because she knew she wasn’t going to get there. She’d been tempted to try his headache story earlier and slip out of this evening’s supper party for an early tryst. After all, the only reason she went to half of the entertainments she attended was to see Hilary. Instead they had decided she would go to him tonight. He’d sent his carriage, which was likely waiting on the other side of the park in the center of the square. She’d been positively vibrating with need for him ever since she’d left the party with Roger and Harry, and in her frustration she nearly cursed Roger aloud. Mrs. Deeds and her investigations had Eleanor as jumpy as a cat. She hadn’t been with Hilary for days, not since his lesson in trust, abstaining in order to throw off the hounds.

  A match flared and she turned her head to see Roger lighting a candle, Harry standing behind him with an apologetic expression, mouthing “I’m sorry.” Harry had known about her trysts with Hil for quite some time, and had covered for her once or twice. It really had been too much to ask, she supposed.

  “Number Five Saville Street is a little far to roam, isn’t it?” Roger asked. At her guilty look he banged the table next to him with a fist. “I knew you’d been slipping out at night to see him
. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?”

  Eleanor turned completely and took a deep breath, facing him squarely. “I was unaware that my movements here were restricted, Mr. Templeton. In future I will seek permission to take a walk. Shall I also ask if I need to use the necessary? Or sneeze?” She went on the attack. Really, it was her only defense here.

  “Don’t ‘Mr. Templeton’ me,” he said angrily. “Damn it, Eleanor, do you not understand the risk you’re taking?”

  “I understand risk perfectly well, Roger,” she told him as she crossed her arms. “I would not be here if I didn’t.”

  He sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. “Eleanor, not only is it dangerous to be out on the streets of London at this hour, but there is your reputation to think of. And believe me, considering my past, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be saying that to anyone, least of all you. But there it is.”

  “Hilary sends his carriage for me,” she said defensively. “And the men he has watching the house accompany me, Mr. Billing and Mr. Snowden.” But she could see by Roger’s thunderous expression that might not have been the best thing.

  “He does, does he?” he growled. “And strange men escort you. How considerate of him.”

  “Now, Roger,” Harry said soothingly as she put her hands on his shoulders and massaged gently, “don’t yell.”

  “I’m not yelling.” He took a deep breath through his nose and then let it out. “See? I’m quite calm. Eleanor, I forbid you to sneak out and see that blackguard again.”

  “What?” she asked incredulously. “You forbid me? I am not a child.”

  “You are family,” he said firmly, “and as such, you are my responsibility. This is for your own good.”

  “You introduced me to him,” she reminded him, stomping over and glaring at him as she put her hands on her hips. “You sought his help in finding me.”

  “Yes, I did,” he told her. “Because he used to be trustworthy. Now, apparently, he’s taken leave of his senses.”