“What do you do to me, Skye, that renders me insatiable?”
Quickly they were in each other’s arms again, their mouths and tongues and hands devouring each other. Bodies entwined, they kissed until their mouths were bruised and both were breathless. Already aroused, his manhood beat against her thigh. Reaching down, she caressed him with teasing fingers, reaching out to cup the soft pouch beneath his shaft, running a sure finger firmly beneath it, hearing his gasp of surprised pleasure.
There was no excruciating waiting this time. She parted her thighs easily and he slid into her warmth. Confident now, she tightened her vaginal muscles about him as Yasmin had taught her. “Jesus!” he cried out softly as the wave of pleasure overpowered him. He drew back to thrust deeper yet, and again she tightened around him. ”Stop, witch!” he begged. “It’s the most delightful torture I’ve en- dured, but stop before I die. I want to pleasure you, too!”
Her arms were tight about him and as she loosened her grip on him he began to murmur softly to her, “Little witch, I knew that beneath the ladylike demeanor there was a passionate wanton, Open yourself to me, my darling. God, how warm and sweet you are! How your little honey oven burns for me-pleasures me-loves me!” He moved rhythmically with long, smooth strokes, each thrust seem- ing to go deeper than the one before. She could feel herself opening wide to receive him, taking him all, wanting even more. Oh, God, she wanted more! Sobbing, she felt her climax bearing down on her like a great wind, slamming into her with such force that she fainted, hearing as she slid away into the dark warmth his cry of pleasure.
Her first awareness was the kisses he was covering her face with. Dear God, she thought, that he can rouse me to such heights! She opened her eyes and smiled tremulously at him, her eyes brilliant with tears. He smiled back and ran a slim finger tenderly down her nose. “You’ve bewitched me, my blue-eyed love. Tomorrow after- noon we shall ride upriver to the Ducks and Drake. For several days we shall do nothing other, than make love in a beautiful room that overlooks the river, and eat and drink sweet wine. I shall bind you to me so you’ll never want to leave me, sweetheart. Never!” His mouth closed over hers again, kissing her deeply. Then he loosed her and rose from the bed. He drew on his clothing quickly and smiled down at her. “We had best keep our liaison a secret for now, sweetheart.” His green eyes glittered. “Though you’ve probably not made up your mind about me yet, I’ve made up my mind about you. I mean to have you, sweetheart!” He bent again and placed a firm, light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, my darling. I’ve no doubt I’ve fair worn you out.” He walked across the room, lifted a tapestry hanging on the wall, and pressed a panel. A door swung open.
Skye gasped. “Where,” she demanded, “does that passage lead?”
‘To my house,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Re- member-my grandfather built this house for his mistress.”
“Then there was no need to climb up to my window?”
“No, sweetheart, but I did think it was most romantic, didn’t you?”
She began to laugh. “Geoffrey. I’m not so sure you’re not a madman!”
He grinned. Then, blowing her a kiss, he disappeared through the passage and the door swung shut behind him.
“What manner of man have I involved myself with?” she said softly aloud. A damned interesting one, the voice in her head an- swered, and she laughed into the darkness.
Chapter 16
The following morning, Skye sent Daisy to find Robert Small. The little captain had rolled in, a good hour past dawn, much the worse for wear. When he finally made an appearance, rumpled and red-eyed, Skye winced. “Oh, Robbie, how many pints did you drink?”
He gave her a weak grin, “It wasn’t the pints so much as the wenches. They were twins, and just sixteen. Ah, youth!”
“Did your friend de Grenville survive?”
“Barely. Thank God we had your carriage. I left him in the care of his majordomo. For a Devon sailor, though, he has a mighty weak stomach.”
Skye bit back the laughter bubbling in her throat. It would have been unkind. “I’m going away for a few days,” she said quietly. Though this is a secret, I will be upriver at an inn called the Ducks and Drake. Should there be an emergency you’ll know where to find me.”
“You’ll not be alone.” It was a statement.
“No, I’ll not be alone, Robbie.”
Robbie sighed. “Skye, lass, I’ll not have you hurt. Southwood is such a cold bastard.”
“Not with me, Robbie. Besides, though this will sound terrible, do not love him. I doubt I shall ever love anyone again. Khalid is too strong in my memory. But I do like Lord Southwood. And Rlobbie, you know that I must have a powerful protector. Come spring, you’ll be off again, and be gone for months. I am a woman done. I have no family but my daughter. My whole life began with Khalid. I have no past. With the Queen’s charter, our business should flourish and with the Earl’s protection I will be free to run it, and free from the bothersome advances of other men.”
“But the price, Skye.”
“Being Southwood’s acknowledged mistress?” she laughed. ”What else is there for me? Marriage? With whom? And you know that I need wealth to give me the power and respectability that will secure Willow’s future. I loved Khalid and I was proud of him, but what future would my daughter have if it were known here that her father was the great Whoremaster of Algiers? No, Robbie, the price is not greater than the rewards. The Earl of Lynmouth has never had an acknowledged mistress of my stature, and I don’t expect him to replace me soon. When Willow is grown she will be an heiress with a powerful ‘uncle.’ I shall be able to make a good match for her.”
Robbie shrugged. “You’ve thought it all out, I see, as usual. There’s no arguing with a logical woman. Should I wish you hap- piness, then?”
“He loves me, Robbie. It’s not just that he’s said it. He means it. A woman knows when she’s being lied to, Robbie, and I hope I’m not easy to fool.”
“Ah, lass. I only want you happy.”
“I know, Robbie. Don’t fret. I’m not unhappy.”
He patted her hand awkwardly, and she bent and kissed his ruddy cheek. “Oh, Robbie, what would I do without you? You’re my best friend!”
In the early afternoon Robbie stood in the doorway and watched sadly as she rode off down the drive of Greenwood, keeping her red horse to a slow trot. Earlier he had gone down to the Thames and arranged for a waterman to take her little trunk upriver to the Ducks and Drakes. He sighed. He wished he were happier about the liaison.
Skye had been radiant when she departed. She wasn’t worried and enjoyed herself very much. Dressed quite elegantly in a black velvet riding habit, ecru lace at the sleeves and a froth of lace bubbling up at the neckline as well, she cut a superb figure. Her cloak was made up of alternating bands of sable fur and black velvet with heavy carved gold frog closings. The attached hood was edged in the same dark sable, and made a perfect contrast to her creamy complexion. Her black boots were of the finest Spanish leather, her cream-colored scented gloves of French kid. Her big red gelding adored her with a singular devotion.
As Skye had explained to Robbie, she and the Earl would meet a mile or so from the Strand, on the river road. They were less likely to be seen together at that point. The afternoon was cold and clear, and Skye fought the urge to set her horse acantering. Since noon was the dinner hour, few people were out. She had ridden for some minutes when she heard the steady beat of hooves behind her and turned to see a tall man riding a large black stallion.