A Novel Seduction (37 page)

She didn’t, and the sultry movements of his hand quickened.

“No,” she said. “No.” She wanted him thick inside her.

“Don’t worry, Pittsburgh,” he said, his breath warm in her ear. “I know how to take care of you.”

She shivered. Oh, God, he did.

“No,” she said again. “No. In me.”

“We can’t—”

“We can.”

He caught her chin and turned her toward him so he could search her face.

She thought about her fear and anger, and how useless it had all been in the end. But she had never not wanted him, and she had never not wanted a child of theirs.

“I want a child with you,” she said. “Again.”

He closed his eyes, face flushed with emotion, and she took his hand and held it against her cheek.

He rolled to his knees, gazing at her in fear and desire. In his eyes she saw every warrior, every berserker, who had fornicated on this hill, spilling his seed to strengthen the harvest or claim a battle’s spoils. He dug under his kilt, grabbed his cock and bent over her. With a grunt he entered her, and she inhaled sharply.

He was large, as large a man as she had ever known, and he filled her so completely, she thought she might burst.

Abandoning finesse, he began to pound the sensitive flesh. The waves, which he had already risen to white-caps, soared higher. She clutched his forearms, his tan, taut muscles flexing with each thrust. It was as if he were battering down the last vestige of concealment between them.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She shook with the force of it, trying to catch a breath. But there was more to it than the physical pleasure: There was a lightness in her she hadn’t felt in so long. She wrapped her arms around his like a seedling’s roots, as if she could extract the nourishing joy and give it back to him.

He rocked back on his heels and hooked her knees. With a husky moan he slipped even deeper inside. He was pummeling her womb, planting a future for them
with a life-or-death fervor, and every movement seesawed her on the edge of searing pleasure.

“Here,” he said, willing her to respond.

“And there. And
there
. Damn you.”

She fretted and squirmed, but he held her tight. Desperate, she wrapped her legs around his buttocks and arched, bringing her breasts against his chest and crying out softly.

A look of shock came over his face, as if the end was overtaking him. She brought herself in close and he reared back, riding her for half a dozen masterful strokes until the surge took her and smashed her into a thousand pieces against an endless, pleasuring shore. At the same moment he jerked, filling her with his seed. He groaned and shook until he collapsed beside her.

“It’s this hill,” he said, rubbing his cheek blindly. “I have never ravaged a woman like that. Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” She’d probably be numb for days, but an incomparable warmth suffused her, as if she’d been steeped in an ancient elixir. “Demand that you repeat it, perhaps. Not forgive you.”

“Oh my God, my balls feel like they’ve been smacked with a cricket bat.”

Laughing, she settled against his shoulder, tucking her head under his chin. She liked the feel of his strong, even breaths after sex and the earthy scent of his skin.

“I have some good news for you,” she said. “I can go with you to Pittsburgh—at least for a few weeks.”

He laughed, a short, ironic laugh and shook his head. “I have some bad news for you: There’s no Pittsburgh to go to.”

“What?”

“I lost the brewery. Outbid. Found out today.”

“Oh, Axel.” The only thing worse than the thought of him leaving New York was the thought of him leaving his dreams behind. “I’m so sorry.”

“And how is it that you can go to Pittsburgh?” He raised himself up on an elbow and looked at her, curious.

“Fired. Black is furious about the story I sent him. I don’t think he’s too happy with you, either.”

A look of shame crossed his face. “I have something I have to tell you—”

“I know.”

“You
do
?”

“About the deal you cut with Black,” she said. “I know. Kate found out.” Ellery gave him a gimlet eye. “Not very gentlemanly.”

“Sort of a theme this week.”

“And definitely not a smart bet.” She pushed his chin gently. “As if someone would know better than me what I should write.”

“It was stupid. What can I say?”

“I know what works best on paper. No one should mess with that.”

“Right. That would be like giving art direction to a photographer.”

“It was better in landscape.”

He laughed and drew her closer. “You’re right about your writing. It’s so damn good. You always surprise me.”

“Oh, Axel,” she said, giddy, “sometimes I even surprise myself.”

“Please, don’t say you mean that snoozefest I looked at earlier. There are some surprises that should be avoided.”

“Nope,” she said, grinning. “I rewrote it! I ended up writing a paean to romances, an abso-freakin’ valentine—”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just admitted to.

“Pardon me?” He cupped a hand behind his ear.

She shook her head, refusing to say another word.

“Ha!” he cried, pumping a fist in the air. “I did it!”

“After the interlude we just had,
that’s
what you’re going to crow about?”

“That?” he said with a deprecating wave. “That sort of sleight of hand I can whip up anytime. Reversing the direction of the USS
Ellery Sharpe
? Now,
that’s
an accomplishment.”

She laughed. It felt so good lying next to him. She ran a hand under his sweater, warming herself against the broad expanse of muscle.

“I’ve got a pocket full of money, Pittsburgh. Name your dream. I can definitely keep you entertained for a month, at least until the Lark & Ives thing starts.”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to see the Highlands.”

He moaned.

“I could always do a travel story.”

“You can’t sell a travel story without pic—Oh, boy, I really walked into that one. Would I get paid?”

“What’s money to a guy like you?”

“Well, there’s this little thing called rent.…”

“I’m not going to charge you rent. I mean, assuming the services-in-lieu-of-cash thing continues.”

“A kept man?” He scratched his chin, considering. “I like it.”

“Well, you wouldn’t forever,” she said, turning toward him. “I know that much about you. But I’m happy to take advantage of it as long as you do. Besides, we need to find you a brewery.”

“Well, there’s this thing I can set up in your spare bedroom—”

“Aaarrrgh.” She covered her ears. “What have I started?”

“What
have
you started?”

He laid a hand on her cheek, and the warm green of his eyes told her that whatever it was, he loved it too.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but it feels wonderful. No one will believe it.”

He snorted. “If they know me, they will.”

“That confident of your abilities, eh?” She gave him a dubious look.

He shrugged. “I got the girl. I got the article.”

“And the brewery?”

“Give me time. I’m on a streak.”

Dining Room, Thistle Bed & Breakfast

Dr. Albrecht pulled up sharply, nearly spilling the contents of the breakfast tray onto the floor. “You’re still vairing your kilt?”

Axel, pink from a just-completed shower, cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Um. Writer request.”

Ellery, who had been allowed to sleep in after a long and rather glorious night and was now eyeing a crossword puzzle and eagerly awaiting the coffee on Dr. Albrecht’s tray, flushed. “I need some local color.”

“Mm-hm.” Dr. Albrecht placed the tray on the table and poured the coffee for her guests.

“Nothing for you?” Ellery asked.

Dr. Albrecht shook her head, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been up for a vhile.”

Another set of steps sounded on the stairs. Ellery turned and nearly dropped her cup. The white-haired gentleman from the night before ambled down, smiling happily and tucking his shirt into the top of his kilt.

“Ah,” he said, spotting Axel and lunging for a piece of
toast. “I see we find ourselves in the same predicament, laddie.”

“Not quite, Reggie,” Dr. Albrecht said. “Axel has other clothes upstairs.”

Reggie’s brow rose puckishly. “I wasn’t talking about the kilt.”

This time both women flushed, and Axel and Reggie chuckled.

“Oh, my,” Ellery said and took a fortifying sip of coffee. Dr. Albrecht hurried off to the kitchen.

Axel said, “Ellery, I’d like you to meet Reggie Sinclair. He owns the distillery next door. Reggie, this is Ellery Sharpe. She’s a literary critic and writer.”

Reggie shook her hand.

At that moment a man in a burnt-orange shirt that set off the singular color of his hair bounded through the front door. He gazed at the breakfasters, who were shifting in their seats and trying to keep from smiling. “What? What’s going on?”

“Nothing important, Duncan,” Axel said. “Just a crossword clue that got the best of us.”

“Oh, what?”

Axel reached for the cream, momentarily stymied. “A seven letter word for unlicensed.”

Duncan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “‘Illicit’?”

Axel pointed at him gratefully. “That would be it. Thank you.”

Ellery bit her lip to stifle laughter and stared deep into her cup.

“Care to join us?” Reggie asked, apparently already feeling host-like.

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ve already eaten. I’m here to help Dr. A. with her bathroom.”

“Oh,” Ellery said. “Are you a plumber?”

“A bond trader, actually. But I grew up in a house full of leaky toilets.”

“A bond trader and a Jemmie Forster impersonator?” Axel said. “Interesting mix.”

“A Jemmie Forster impersonator?” Ellery’s head swung around hard enough to make her cup rattle in its saucer.

“Settle down, Pittsburgh,” Axel said. “You’re taken.”

Ellery could definitely see the similarity to the image of Jemmie in her head, especially in the wide blue eyes and angled features.

“Och,” Duncan said self-deprecatingly, “just a way to help out my hometown. But I’m afraid they’re going to have to find another Jemmie soon.”

“Oh?”

“My firm’s transferring me to the New York office. Not as much call for a man in a kilt there, I should think.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Ellery said, and Axel gave her a kick under the table.

“Who vants a fry-up?” Dr. Albrecht said, returning from the kitchen with an empty skillet in her hand. Reggie, Axel and Ellery all raised their hands eagerly.

“I see,” the sociologist said, smiling. “Must be something in the air.”

Duncan frowned again. “Reggie told me you two live in New York. I’m hoping for a local guide when I arrive. Perhaps someone who can introduce me to some people to do things with?”

While either she or Axel could easily serve as his guide,
Ellery supposed the latter part of the request was directed toward her, as she felt certain the “people” in question were to be of the female persuasion.

Axel, who clearly had understood Duncan’s request, looked at Ellery.

“I’d be happy to show you around,” she said, and immediately began to run through an inventory of single friends in her head. The harder job would be limiting the list to a manageable number. Who, after all,
wouldn’t
be interested in a Scottish bond trader who doubled as a romance hero?

Duncan nodded his thanks and followed Dr. Albrecht through the swinging door into the kitchen.

Reggie snagged the pot of jam. “Axel, have you talked to the lass yet?”

“Um, no,” he said significantly and fell into a deep observation of his toast.

Since flustered was an unusual state for Axel, Ellery turned her full attention to him.

“Oh, dear,” Reggie said. “Sorry, lad.”

“It’s all right.” Axel put his napkin on the table and said to her, “Let’s go for a walk, okay?”

Ellery’s stomach began to churn. “What? What is it?”

He led her from the table and out the front door, stopping to grab his coat from the rack in the hall. “It’s good. I promise. Don’t worry.”

Good? Good for Axel could mean anything from a chance to ride with the Hell’s Angels to a Pulitzer nomination. But the news Ellery most feared was the offer of a position in a distillery in Scotland.

He led her into a small garden behind the garage. The
annuals were mostly gone, but there were still dried blue mopheads on the hydrangeas and a patch of small sunflowers upon whose dark florets several orange-breasted birds stood to feed. A large black cat slumbered peacefully at one end of a weathered bench, warming in the sun, and rather than tip him out, Axel sat at the other end and pulled Ellery onto his lap.

“Oh, I don’t like this,” she said, burying her head against his neck, waiting.

“Even with the kilt? Well, that certainly doesn’t do much for the old ego.” He threw the jacket over her shoulders and hugged her close. The cat opened a green eye, observed the disturbers of his peace, then shut it again, burying his nose deeper into his tail.