The Lady Who Saw Too Much Page 9

  Leaning toward him, she grasped his shoulders, kissing him urgently as though she feared, as he suddenly did, they might be interrupted again.

  He lowered her to her back, and she opened her legs, welcoming him into the warmth between her trembling thighs. Her breasts teased his chest as he hovered above her, his hard shaft pressing against the heat at her core.

  He kissed her ear.

  “Ohh,” she uttered.

  The smooth flesh of her neck tasted as sweet as her mouth. She turned her head from side to side as he trailed his lips along her throat, her shoulders, and breasts. God, her breasts.

  He cupped the firm mounds, the perfect weight and feel, sucking a taut nipple between his lips. Arching her back, she clutched at his hair. Each small sound of her pleasure, every ardent response, heightened his arousal. His need.

  Aspiring to touch and taste every delectable inch of her, to extend the pleasure of making love to her well into the night, became a lofty ambition. But they were married now, and there’d be plenty of nights in which to indulge in prolonged pursuits.

  He nudged his hardness against the dewy warmth at her center. She lifted her bottom and moaned in his ear. Memories of their past and the night she’d snuck into his room infused with the heat of the moment. She’d wanted this from the start. Schemed to get it. And, Christ, he would give it to her.

  He pushed between her legs, then thrust inside her. She gasped, eyes flashing wide.

  He froze, burying his head in her hair. In the wake of her prior deception and the cunning required to spring such a dubious trap, he’d doubted she’d be a virgin.

  Once again, she’d surprised him.

  Breaths of pain filled his ear. Surrendering to the proof of her virtue, he was overcome by a rush of tenderness. He did his best to be gentle, moving slowly as she adjusted to the feel of his body in hers.

  “It’s all right,” he uttered against her hair.

  She gave a stiff nod, eyes tightly closed.

  “Open your eyes,” he said softly.

  She complied, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes met his, and a tear slipped from the edge of her lashes.

  “Good girl.” He kissed her forehead, pressed his lips to her tear-stained temple. His tongue teased her ear.

  She sighed, her body slackening beneath him.

  Encouraged, he dragged his mouth down her neck, an exploit she seemed to enjoy. Lingering at the sensitive spot on her throat, he began to move inside her again. To his delight, she began to move with him.

  He exhaled in relief. Ecstasy. She kneaded his back as he moved faster. Her hips rose to each thrust. With each thrust, he drove deeper. Her abandon told him she was feeling it now, the winding bliss and soaring pleasure. Her ardent response reeled him closer. She clutched at his shoulders. Small gasps of pleasure became lingering moans that lured him to the edge.

  She cried out, her body pulsing against his, and not a moment too soon. The sound of her climax echoed in his ears as he finally let go. The force of his release shuddered through him again and again as he clung to her, coasting on the ride of his life.

  His heart was still pounding when he finally rolled away and collapsed next to her on the bed. Several minutes passed before he could speak. “Are you all right?”

  Nestling into the pillows, she stretched her arms above her head. “I’m wonderful,” she said, closing her eyes.

  He smiled at the luminous look on her face. “It gets better, you know.”

  Her eyes flashed open. “Truly?”

  He laughed at her honest surprise. “Truly.” He traced his finger along the curve of her jaw, and her eyes fluttered shut.

  Absorbing the sight of her, lounged so contently, so exposed, he couldn’t help being perplexed. She’d lied her way into his bed, but there was nothing deceptive about her now. All he saw was the glow of her bliss, the soft curves of her bare shoulders and breasts. His shaft twitched with restored arousal.

  So much for his hope that once they’d made love, his maddening lust for her might be sated. He’d been driven to a state of rapture by a virgin. Christ, if her first time produced results such as this, he was done for.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Ravenous.” She propped up on her elbows. “Shall I get us something?”

  “I’ll go,” he said, bolting upright.

  He could use a few minutes to himself. Fumbling into his clothes, he felt as giddy as a drunkard with a head full of booze. His lack of sleep had obviously caught up with him.

  Downstairs in the quiet kitchen, he prepared a tray laden with cold roast beef, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine. Gia hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so he added a thick wedge of cheddar to the fare.

  He started from the kitchen, slowing as he eyed the cookie canister on the counter. Recalling Gia’s fondness for sweets, he smiled, then opened the lid and piled two gingersnaps on the tray.

  Ascending the stairs, he realized that while he still loathed the idea of having a wife, having Gia in his bed was something he could get used to. The thought brought him no solace as he returned to their room.

  The erotic sight of her stilled his heart. She lounged on her side amid a sea of tangled sheets, one hand cradling her head, the other resting on the curve of her hip. Tousled hair framed her face in the candlelight.

  Although she now wore her night rail, she may as well have been nude in the mesmerizing effect. She smiled at the sight of the food—or him—and the inside of his mouth turned to dust.

  Steadying his hands, he placed the tray on the bedside table, then fixed her a plate. She sat up on her knees, biting into a hunk of bread as he poured two glasses of wine.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” she said, waving him off.

  “You don’t enjoy wine, either?”

  She tilted her head, looking baffled.

  “You refused to join me in a brandy last night, and you never touched your champagne at the reception.”

  She stared down at her plate. “I don’t care much for the effect of alcohol.”

  He considered this skeptically. “Most people care quite a lot for it,” he said, raising his glass.

  She shrugged. “In that regard, I am unlike most people.”

  “In many regards,” he uttered truthfully. He’d never known a woman like her.

  Charlotte had been as transparent as glass in her motives for their affair. So had Isobel, had he had the good sense back then to see it. The women of his past were romantic creatures, who’d charmed him with claims of love and devotion to get what they’d sought.

  Gia was different.

  She’d wormed her way into his life and under his skin with her wits and her wile. He’d never seen it coming. Her reasons for manipulating him into marriage remained a mystery, not that those reasons mattered now. But he couldn’t get a grip on what made her tick, and it irritated the hell out of him.

  That he desired her as he did irritated him as well. He could barely wait to have her again. While the first time for a woman was always painful, she’d managed to enjoy a good part of it. Her next time would be better.

  She ate heartily from her plate, looking no worse for the wear. Still he rued not being gentler with her.

  “You might have warned me that it was your first time,” he said.

  The stricken look on her face took him aback.

  Dropping the cookie she held to her plate, she swallowed hard. “You had assumed otherwise, of course.” Her lips pursed in disgust, her eyes twin pools of disdain.

  He stiffened at her sudden hostility. She’d misinterpreted his remark. His concern for her. But, hell, yes, he’d assumed otherwise. What the devil did the woman expect after what she’d done to him?

  “You cannot possibly fault me for doubting your virtue.”

  Her pretty mouth opened, but nothing came out. The fire dimmed inside her glistening eyes.

&
nbsp; He was right, and she knew it. But his shallow victory wasn’t enough. He was doing his damnedest to adjust to their situation, and she seemed hell bent on making it impossible.

  “I’ve accepted this marriage, but the fact remains.” He fluffed at his pillow, restraining the urge to pound the feathers out of it. “You connived your way from employee to wife.” Slumping back on the pillow, he closed his eyes. “One good romp between the sheets with my virginal bride has not made me forget that.”

  Chapter 12

  Gia lay in bed, staring through the darkness toward the moonlight outside the window. Whether it was the long nap she’d taken earlier that kept her from falling asleep despite the late hour or the aftereffect of making love for the first time, she felt wide awake.

  She glanced at Landen’s still form lying so peacefully only inches from hers. How strange it felt to have a man sleeping beside her. The deep sound of his breathing filled the darkness as she lay there with her whirling thoughts. After being awake for twenty-four hours straight, he’d no doubt expended the last of his energy driving her into ecstasy.

  It was difficult to believe the man who’d made love to her with such passion was the same man who’d insulted her so callously a mere hour later. While she could not blame him for his low opinion of her, it hurt just the same.

  She had hoped that the intimate act of consummating their marriage might diminish his anger toward her and they might forge a new start. Unfortunately, she’d been the only party swept into oblivion, as he’d made it perfectly clear he had no intention of forgetting a thing.

  Despite the evening’s terrible ending, she would remember this night forever. Making love with him had been heaven. Replaying the scene in her mind made her smile. There’d been no obstacles between them—no troubles or fears. Not even secrets and mistrust had stood in the way of their bodies’ desire for each other. When they were naked, life was simple and pure. The sweet thought prompted her to tears. Tears of a bride’s joyous discovery mixed with tears of sadness for what had ensued. And tears of fear for the future.

  What if he never looked at her that way again? Never touched her that way?

  Already she yearned for more. His hands and mouth on her flesh, his body entwined and trembling with hers. The dull ache of longing grew stronger. Heat flushed her face. She turned onto her side, flipping her pillow as she moved. With a frustrated sigh, she pressed her cheek into the pillow, but the cool linen did nothing to temper her lust. How could she desire a man who could barely tolerate her? A man who’d promised to never forgive her? Perhaps her parents had been right after all, and she truly was addled.

  She blinked, staving off memories too distressing to relive. Nestling beneath the sheets, she found a strange sense of comfort in the warmth of the strong presence behind her. She’d spent so much time on her own. Despite Landen’s feelings toward her, she was no longer alone in the world. She belonged to him now, and Landen protected what was his.

  For the first time in years she felt truly safe. Tucking the sheet to her chin, she closed her eyes and let the soft steady sound of her husband’s breathing lull her to sleep.

  * * * *

  Gia reveled in the throes of the wonderful dream. Melding into the heat of the firm body against her back, she welcomed the onslaught of sensations, the hand caressing her breast, the lips nuzzling her neck.

  She pressed her bottom against the prodding hardness behind her, indulging in the vividly erotic dream. The sound of her moans stirred her awake. Opening her eyes, she discovered she hadn’t been dreaming.

  Landen’s warm breath fanned her neck. Arousal trumped animosity, it seemed, and she smiled to herself as she realized the hem of her night rail was riding her waist. He trailed his hand from her breast to her hip. Still drowsy, she arched like a cat against the source of her pleasure. The press of his lips on her nape sent tingles down her spine, and she all but purred in delight.

  As though impelled by her blatant lack of resistance, he nudged his knee between her thighs. The sheet that covered her disappeared as her legs fell open to the dawning sunlight and the wonderful things he was doing from behind her.

  Her heart pounded and her limbs trembled with the sweet torture of anticipation. Biting her lip, she awaited his move, grinding back against his thigh. He clasped her aching core, and she gasped in delight. He held her, cupping her so possessively, so intensely, the pleasure radiated from her flesh to her heart.

  With an audible sigh, she surrendered completely to his masterful hand. His fingers moved slowly, then faster, and then slowly again. Gusts of ecstasy lifted her higher, and she clutched at the sheets.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, unable to silence the hysteria of pleasure erupting inside her. Not since the opiates had anything made her feel so utterly mindless—so good. Landen’s touch might prove to be as addictive, but she wouldn’t fret about that now. She would savor every moment they shared in this bed and regret not a one.

  She writhed against the strum of his fingers, wondering how he’d learned all that he knew. Sensations flooded her veins as she grew wetter and wetter.

  With one firm thrust he slipped inside her. The sound of his pleasure rumbled through her ear, and she delighted in the proof of his bliss. He pushed deeper. His hand moved in circles between her legs and she arched toward the pressure, the friction of his shaft sliding in and out of her. The tension wound tighter and tighter. She cried out in in exquisite release, splintering in a dozen different directions as it all came undone.

  With a ragged groan, Landen came quickly behind her, crushing her to his chest.

  His tight grip on her slackened as they descended to earth. He released her completely, and the chill of his absence made the summer morning feel as cold as December.

  He rose from the bed, and she closed her eyes, heard the rustle of his clothing as he dressed. Without a word, he crossed the room to the door, then closed it quietly behind him.

  She lay there alone, her body still trembling.

  So this was to be their marriage. All they would share.

  A bed, wordless passion, nothing more.

  She shook off her chagrin. As difficult as it might seem at the moment, she had to stay focused. So much had happened since arriving in Misty Lake, there’d been so many distractions. Her body still hummed from the latest, but she did her utmost to channel her thoughts to her task. She’d married Landen for one reason and one reason only. To save his life. Once she accomplished that feat, once he was safe, she’d try to fix things between them.

  Her other visions had come to life shortly after experiencing them. The vision of Landen had depicted the season was late summer, but she had to be sure.

  Rising from the bed, she glanced around the room for an item to touch. She strode to his dresser where all his private things sat. She touched the coins he’d emptied from his pockets, then concentrated on a pair of fine cufflinks. Nothing.

  She walked to the washstand. A comb and a hair brush were arranged neatly next to the basin. She touched the comb and the soap dish with no results. Sighing, she reached for the porcelain cup that held his shaving brush and razor.

  Grasping the cup in her hands, she closed her eyes. Her breath quickened with her pulse as the cool glass started to warm. She followed the sensation through her fingers, through the glass. The vision appeared, and she was in a clearing in the forest beneath an old gnarled tree. She shivered with a chill of foreboding and the sickening sound of pained grunts.

  Landen lay on the ground, hands raised in defense against the booted feet kicking his ribs, his face. Blood oozed from his mouth and nose.

  Gasping for air, she opened her eyes. Her knees trembled. She clutched at the washstand for support, heard the sound of glass shattering against wood.

  “What happened?”

  She started at the sound of Landen’s voice behind her, but she couldn’t move. He strode toward her, his reflection in the mirror looming closer.


  The sound of glass crunched beneath his boots. “Gia?”

  She turned slowly to face him, hoping she didn’t appear as frazzled as she felt. “I…”

  “You’re bleeding.” His eyes widened in alarm. He yanked a towel from the rail on the side of the washstand, then pressed the towel into her palm. “Come sit down.” He took her gently by the arm. “Watch your step.”

  She nodded, soothed by his genuine concern. She blinked, feeling foolish. Of course he’d display concern—one had no other option when there was blood involved.

  He led her to a chair, then knelt beside her.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look into his face for fear she’d blurt out some futile warning about what she’d seen in her mind. Her body trembled in her fears for him, and the urge to slump against his chest and sob into his shoulder overwhelmed her. She fought to pull herself together as she opened the towel to inspect the cut. “It’s not bad at all,” she said in as cheery a tone as she could muster. “See.”

  He winced at the sight of the injury; his face turned stark white.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He shot to his feet, swaying.

  “Landen!”

  His eyes fluttered briefly before rolling back in his head, and then he fainted dead away.

  * * * *

  Gia’s heart pounded. “Can you hear me?” she asked, kneeling over him.

  He blinked hard several times, then sat upright. “Yes, I am fine.”

  She helped him to his feet. “Are you sure?”

  “I am fine.” He pulled from her hold and any further attempts to assist him.

  She rushed to pour him some water, and he guzzled it down.

  “Thank you,” he said, running a shaky hand through his hair.

  She nodded, relieved the color had returned to his face.

  “We should have Florence tend to your hand,” he said as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  She eyed him, amazed, as he toed the broken glass by the washstand.

  “What were you doing with my shave kit?” he asked.

  His attempt to change the subject was dreadfully effective. “I was just moving it to tidy up a bit. I was clumsy. I’m sorry.” Her voice skittered on the lie. The memory of her vision. Landen fainting in a heap at her feet.