Devil in My Arms: A Loveswept Historical Romance (The Saint's Devils) Page 9

  “Should I be expecting the authorities again? I told you that I will no longer vouch for you when they come asking about your more nefarious activities.”

  “I’m cutting back on nefarious activities,” Wiley announced. “Bad for a man’s health.”

  “So you were hiding from another jealous husband.”

  “Just so,” Wiley said with yet another wink and a tweak of his nose. “Now, the case.”

  “Young Mr. Goode says that his grandmother always claimed to have had a love affair with Tsar Alexander, and that she had a stack of love letters to prove it. She recently died, and upon her deathbed confessed that her son, his father, was Alexander’s son. He needs the letters to prove his birthright.”

  “Will it make him tsar?” Wiley asked with a calculated expression.

  “No,” Hil assured him firmly. “But I believe it will extract enough money from Alexander to pay the duns.”

  Wiley frowned. “Why would you take a case like that?”

  Hil shrugged. “Why not? I’d like to know if she actually had an affair with him. I like to know things like that. Secrets, Wiley. Secrets can save a man if he knows how to use them.”

  “Use them?” Wiley asked, leaning back and taking a drink.

  “Knowing when to keep them, when to tell them, when to bargain with them,” Hil said. He stared into the amber liquid in his glass, thinking about all the secrets he knew and how some of them had changed his life.

  “You really are in a dark place tonight,” Wiley told him. He stood up and put his tumbler on the drink tray. “Too dark for me. Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow,” he trilled. “Tomorrow we’ll find the old lady’s love letters. Tonight is for sleeping. Alone, unfortunately.”

  Hil said nothing as Wiley left him alone with his thoughts. Was he brooding? He supposed so. He thought the ladies liked that. Perhaps he should pen a note to Eleanor and let her know he was brooding. She might show up to watch.

  With a sigh, he stood up and extinguished the light. It was time he went to bed as well. A man could only brood for so long before he needed rest in order to do it again the next day.

  * * *

  Hil woke up at the sound of knocking on the front door. It wasn’t the first time he’d been awoken in the middle of the night in such a fashion, and it wouldn’t be the last. His hobby of investigation was well-known, and the night was the chessboard for many fatal games. More than one man or woman had come knocking on his door in the dark of night asking his help. He slid out of bed and pulled on his banyan, which he’d tossed aside when he climbed into bed. The gold embroidery on the red silk caught the moonlight creeping in through his window. It was after midnight, judging by the moon’s location. He lit a candle and pulled on his pants before walking out into the hallway and leaning over the banister.

  “Who is it, Jeffers?” he asked his night footman below.

  “Lady here to see you, sir,” Jeffers called quietly.

  “It is I, Sir Hilary.”

  Eleanor’s voice as it floated up from the shadowed entry caused the last vestiges of sleep to fall away. “Come up, my dear,” he said.

  Jeffers discreetly backed away and took up his position in a chair near the door. Eleanor hesitated, but then she strode to the stairs with purposeful steps and mounted them. When she reached the top she paused, looking down the hallway. “Which room?” she asked, pulling off one of her gloves. She wore a large black cloak, with the hood pulled over her hair.

  He kept one hand in the pocket of his banyan, and with a wave of the other, indicated his bedroom door. She nodded and preceded him to his room. He opened the door and when she entered, she immediately turned to face him. He liked how she looked there, the dark red curtains adorning the window framing her, the candle on the table beside her creating a halo of light over her head. The large four-poster bed to their right was a decadent and erotic background, with its tousled, blue silk sheets. He stood at the open door, not sure what was required of him, fighting his own inclinations. “Close it,” she said firmly. With relief, he did.

  She removed the hood with a flourish. Her cropped curls were a mess. “I have come,” she said. He waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming.

  “So I see,” he replied, hoping to encourage more words. He didn’t wish to make assumptions that would land him in a possible misunderstanding. He was trying to be chivalrous, damn it, and it was killing him.

  “Don’t be a ninny,” she said, tossing her glove onto the dresser to her right. “I have come to have an affair with you. It was all very havey-cavey, I must say. Sneaking out of Harry and Roger’s in the dead of night and making my way over here.” She pointed at the window. “I do not like being closed in. Would you be so kind as to open the window?” Her hand was shaking.

  Hil was instantly alarmed. “You came here by yourself? Madam, that is the height of foolishness,” he admonished as he walked over and pulled the curtain aside to open the window slightly. A breeze ruffled the curtain and he saw her shoulders relax, so he left the curtain open just a bit, so she could see the open window behind it. He could make an educated guess about her fear of closed doors, one which involved the deprivations forced on her by her husband.

  “Yes, it is. Saville Street is too far to walk to from Manchester Square. I had to take a hackney, which is difficult to find at this time of night. You shall have to arrange to have me back there before morning. I don’t wish to have to endure another journey like this one. By the way, I told your man to pay the driver. And I didn’t see any sign of these supposed guards you’ve posted to protect me.”

  “I could throttle you,” Hil said through clenched teeth. Tomorrow he was going to make damn sure that her bodyguards had been no more than two steps behind her the whole way. “Two weeks of perfectly respectable afternoons you could have come calling or sent a note, and yet you decide it best to hie yourself over here at this ungodly hour. What, pray tell, were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t,” she told him. “I couldn’t sleep for thinking about you again, and I was completely fed up with it. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in two weeks.” She pointed at him with her eyes narrowed. “I blame you.”

  “Me?” Hil said incredulously. “Madam, you were well aware that I was leaving the decision in your hands. That it took you two weeks to make it is not in any way my fault.”

  “I am not happy about this,” she said as she pulled at her other glove with angry tugs on each finger. “This is inconvenient to say the least. I am on the run from a vile husband, believed dead by the authorities, and trying to maintain a discreet presence here in London. And yet you have made it so that I cannot get a decent night’s sleep for thinking of carnal relations with you.”

  Hil’s heart was racing. He would blame their argument if he didn’t know damn well he’d been thinking the same things for two weeks. “Madam, I implore you. Do not speak of carnal relations unless we are to have them. I am only a man, and near broken already.”

  “Ha.” Her laughter was disbelieving. “Broken indeed. You were sound asleep when I knocked. Admit it.”

  “True. But I was dreaming of you.”

  “Liar.” Her tone was softer as she finally pulled her glove off and gently tossed it beside the other one. He moved to stand in front of her and took her bare hands in his. She was still shaking.

  “It’s true.” He kissed one palm and then the other. “I have dreamed of this every night for the last two weeks. What took you so long?”

  “I can be quite stubborn,” she said breathlessly, her fingers curving over her palms protectively.

  Hil smiled. “As can I.”

  “And fearful,” she whispered. “I can’t … this must remain a secret, Sir Hilary.”

  “Hilary,” he interrupted to correct her.

  “Hilary,” she said, and he had to catch his breath at the intimacy of it. What a silly fool he was for her.

  “There are many obvious reasons why we mustn’t fla
unt our affair. Surely you can see that?” she asked hopefully.

  He was affronted. “As a gentleman, I would never impugn your reputation in any way. Your wishes are, naturally, paramount in this situation. I, too, loathe the idea of society gossiping about us behind their fans.”

  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, embarrassment 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 assure 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 God you’re better at taking a woman’s clothes off than I am,” she said, her voice muffled by her skirts as he dragged the dress over her head.

  “Yes, thank God,” 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 buttocks. 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 breasts 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, damn 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 sex. 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 sigh
t of him, the sight of them joined, burning it into her memory. Never had she thought to find a man—or the sexual 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 breasts 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 sex in such a way that each thrust sent lightning strikes of joy through her. She began to tremble and a moan escaped.