A Seduction at Christmas (18 page)

Close to midnight she heard a scratch on her door.

That had to be Tad. If he had returned, that meant Holburn had also.

She rose from her bed and crossed to the room
without pausing to cover her night dress. She opened the door a crack but instead of Tad, Holburn shouldered his way in. He’d removed his coat and smelled of the fresh night air. He shut the door.

Both surprised and relieved, Fiona opened her mouth to greet him, but before words could be spoken, he brought his lips down on hers.

He kissed her hard, held her tight. His mouth tasted of brandy.

Holburn broke the kiss. “Don’t speak. Don’t think. I’m tired of words, Fee, and I can’t stand my thoughts.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked, desperate to do what she could to help him.

“You,”
he answered, shutting the door by leaning back on it. “You are the
one
good thing in my life. The
only
good thing.” And with those words, he kissed her again.

F
rom the moment Fiona had met Holburn, even when she’d first caught a glimpse of him in that ballroom, he’d taken hold over her imagination, and now her life.

He’d lived in her dreams, figured in her fantasies, and was now her reality.

All of her concerns and fears she channeled into their kiss.
I’m here for you,
she said with her lips. She pressed her body closer.
You can trust me. I will never betray you.

And he answered back.

The world ceased to exist beyond this place, this time in his arms. Nothing else mattered. He was here…with her…wanting her.

His hand began unfastening the pearl buttons of her night dress.

Fiona let him, because it
was
him.

When his hand cupped her breast, she tensed but offered no protest. Her heart filled her throat. It grew hard to breathe. Blood pounded in her ears.

She covered his hand with her own, holding him against her. His arm came around her waist. His lips brushed her neck.

Fiona leaned on him, needing his support, his strength. If she could she’d step inside him, let him surround her—and all the while she was so very, very frightened.

He pulled his hand from beneath hers and brought his fingertips to her cheek.

It was then she realized she was crying.

“Fee, what is it—” he started but she couldn’t let him finish. She didn’t dare let him know. She cut him off by lifting herself up on her toes and kissing with all the yearning need in her soul, but he’d have none of it.

He pulled her arms away, turning her so he could see her face in the moonlight.

Fiona stood as if turned to stone, so aware of her braid hanging over one shoulder, her night dress unbuttoned, her skin and the curve of her breasts open to him. He used his thumb to brush away her tears and yet more flowed.

She was a fool. She had nothing to offer him. Nothing to give. He had to see that. He had to know she’d been damaged. Destroyed for any decent
loving
man.

He kissed her tears. “Is it me, Fee?” he said against her skin.

Fiona couldn’t speak. She shook her head and realized her whole body was shaking. She felt such a fool.

“No one will harm you,” he whispered fiercely. “Not ever again.”

Did he think she feared Irishmen? It was good if he did. She didn’t want him to know the truth. Then she’d have to remember it and she wanted to forget. Oh, she wanted to forget.

“Shush now,” he whispered as if he could hear her disquieted thoughts. “Please, Fee, trust me. Whatever it was, let it go or give it to me. Let me take your pain. I can protect you.”

“You can’t. No one can.”

Holburn laughed softly. “Don’t you understand, Fee. You and me—we can face anything together.” His voice trailed off as he lifted her up in strong arms, cradling her as one would a baby. Rocking, holding, keeping her, right there in the silvery light with all the shadows, all the darkness, all the meanness kept at bay.

He was so gentle, so kind, that he broke her heart.
It split wide open and all the anger and hate and loathing, all the sadness and loss, every bit of it spilled out.

She was embarrassed that she sobbed like a child. Not wanting the pain but afraid to live without it.

But he held her. He didn’t let go.

And there wrapped in his arms, she felt the person she had become, the one who struggled, who didn’t trust, who
couldn’t
trust, that Fiona died.

What had kept her apart from the world melted. Vanished. Disappeared completely and leaving her whole…
born anew.

“You came to heal me,” she said, her words filled with wonder.

“Ah, Fee, you heal me,” he whispered against her hair. “In the midst of all the lies, you are there to keep me sane.”

Her tears dried. The sadness that had been so much a part of her life was now gone.

She listened to the steady, strong rhythm of his heart and knew it beat for her.

He looked down at her, his eyes lost in shadows. When he walked toward the bed, she made no protest.

Gently, he laid her on the mattress. His hand smoothed back her hair as one would a child’s. From the moment she’d met him, her body had instinctively been drawn toward him. Now both
her head and her heart said this man was like no other.

But he surprised her. “Sleep, Fee,” he said quietly. “It will all be as it should.” He started to straighten and she realized he was going to leave. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he started but she cut him off by grabbing the material of his shirt, curling her hands in it, and, rising up to her knees, holding him with a kiss.

This wasn’t like the others they had shared. In this kiss she said all that she’d not yet found words for. She knew she loved him.

She knew he loved her, too.

His arms came around her. The kiss deepened. Their tongues met and if there was a way to drink each other’s souls, they would have done it. She wasn’t going to let him go. Not now. Not ever.

Perhaps there could never be anything lasting between them. He was a duke and she a seamstress. She’d never consent to be a man’s paid companion. There was too much pride in her.

But there could be something pure, something outside the bonds of society, something just for the two of them.

This time, he didn’t pull away. She felt the length and strength of his arousal. He wanted her.

Memories of her rape teased the edges of her mind, but love had made her strong. She didn’t
want to be a victim of this fear any longer. She wanted to be free of it. The moment to face all demons had come.

She tugged on his shirt, pulling it up and then over his head. She tossed it aside.

His muscles were hard and well formed. This man was not the soldiers who had attacked her. Their skin had been pasty and their expressions ugly. Their expressions had been ugly and mean. They’d wanted to hurt her.

In contrast, Holburn’s eyes were so filled with care and concern, she felt humbled before him.

She gathered her night dress and lifted it up over her head.

Holburn released his breath with a sigh of appreciation. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.”

It was the praise she needed to hear. He kissed her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her hair. His arms drew her to him. Her breasts flattened against his chest and she reveled in the feeling of his skin against hers.

They slowly sank down onto the feather mattress. He took a moment then to pull off his boots and remove his breeches. His hands were clumsy. She understood how he felt.

Her fear was that she’d feel revulsion at the sight of his arousal.

She didn’t.

He
was beautiful.
Completely.

The duke curved his body protectively around her. Fiona didn’t know what to do next, but he did. She gave herself over to him as best as she could, focusing on the ceiling and reminding herself this was right, this was good.

His hands cupped her breasts. Her body responded to him as it always did. When he circled her bare nipple with his thumb, she gasped in pleasure. His lips against her neck curved into a smile.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” he said.

Had he realized her fear? “No,” she whispered.

“Now, you touch me.”

His soft command caught her off guard. She didn’t know what to do.

“You can’t do anything wrong, Fee. Lovemaking is supposed to have a bit of bungling. Sometimes, that’s when the best things happen.”

Fiona heaved a big sigh. It would be so easy to stay curled up against him, but her body was beginning to want more. The next move, whether it was clumsy or proper or whatever, was up to her.

Tentatively, she rubbed her palm over his breast. She was surprised when his skin responded to her touch.

In fact, a glance told her that all of him responded to that gentle, cautious caress. Even his toes.

“Go on,” he urged.

Fiona kissed his neck the way he’d kissed hers. He drew in his breath, his quiet laughter one of joy. She nibbled her way up to his ear, enjoying the texture of his whiskers, loving the masculine, night air smell of his skin.

With growing boldness, she ran her hand down his arm, along his ribs. He was solid, hard where she was soft and it was as it should be. Her hand traveled over the plane of his stomach. Here the muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as if he was tickled. She couldn’t resist circling his belly button with her finger.

This time, he laughed aloud and caught her hand. “You minx,” he whispered. “Now you know my weakness.”

A sense of power as old as time gave Fiona courage. He was ticklish. The discovery took away her last trace of timidity.

She’d not thought hard about the mysteries between a man and a woman since her rape. In a general way, she’d understood what should be done. The rape had cruelly taught her realities—or so she had thought.

Now she realized there was more to the joining of a man and a woman. She’d not imagined humor could be part of it, or kindness and yet here it was.

She wondered what else she didn’t know.

Deliberately, she ran her hand down the length of his erection and was surprised by its baby-smooth softness.

“You are a wicked one, Fee,” Holburn said. He lay still, his eyes closed and a huge smile across his face.

“Am I, Your Grace?” she asked, the coyness coming from some secret feminine side of her she’d forgotten had once existed. She’d been the belle of the kirk, the reigning princess at the country dances.

“You are,” he answered, his voice warm with desire as he reached for her hand and pressed it to him. She held him now, felt the power in him. He turned on his side to face her. “And my name is Nick. I want you to call me that, Fee. Let there be no titles between us. Not here. Never here.”

“Nick,” she murmured and he pressed his lips to her forehead while also showing her what he liked, and how he wanted to be touched.

Their lips found each other. They kissed deep and they kissed hard. His hand smoothed over her hip and down between her thighs…and then rising up so that he could caress and tease her as intimately as she did him.

Pure, keen feeling shot through her.

Fiona had not anticipated this. His clever fingers knew what drove her. She had to reach up and
grasp his shoulders, overcome by what he was doing. He leaned her back on the bed, rising up over her, slipping his fingers inside her.

This was nothing like her rape. The attack had been brutal and mean. It had been designed to punish her for her brother’s sins.

But Nick was teaching her that intimacy was to be yearned for, craved even. She didn’t want this to ever stop.

Her breath was coming out in soft gasps and silly moues of delight. It was as if she couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself. He kissed her neck, her cheek—and then he spread her legs, cradling his hips between them and opened her with one smooth thrust.

He filled her, holding himself so her body could adjust and accommodate his size. Fiona lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. He went deeper and she could have purred her contentment.

“You feel good, Fee. So good,” he whispered in her ear.

“You feel good, too,” she had to answer and he laughed. His laughter went through him even to where they were joined.

Then, Nick leveraged his body against hers, taking his weight in his arms. He began moving with a sure steady pace.

Fiona felt as if the secret of the universe was be
ing handed to her. This was why men and women joined.
This
was what they wanted.

And
this
made life suddenly worthwhile.

She didn’t know what she was doing. She responded on instinct, allowing him to set the pace. He encouraged her with soothing, loving words. She reveled in the feeling of his body surrounding hers. She curled her fingers in his hair, surprised herself by nipping his ear, and rejoiced in at last having all barriers removed between them.

Suddenly it all changed. One moment she moved in perfect harmony with him. In the next, it was as if she rode up a high, steep hill. She had to ride. She wanted to reach the pinnacle—and then she was there.

The sensation was so sharp, so poignantly incredible, she felt as if her very soul was being shattered.

Nick knew what was happening to her. He gathered her tighter in his arms, driving himself to the hilt inside her.

She needed him. She could not exist through this without him. She held him tight, needing him for ballast in a world that seemed to have exploded.

And once it did, a feeling of completeness, of peace in a guise she’d never imagined radiated throughout her being.

So this was the purpose to making love. This
was why ballads were sung, stories told, and poems written. She’d never felt so whole or close to another person in her life. It was truly as if they had melded into one.

Nick watched her, concern in his eyes. “You needn’t worry,” she said, reaching to push back his hair that had fallen over his brow. “That was the most incredible, most wonderful discovery of my life.”

A fierce joy crossed his face.

“Is it always like that?” she dared to ask.

“Yes,” he said. “And over time, it can grow even better.”

Fiona widened her eyes at such a statement. Right now, she was so languid with bliss she didn’t believe she’d ever be able to move again. Certainly she didn’t want to leave this bed.

“Stay with me,” he urged her. “I’m going to join you.”

She smiled and hugged him with her legs as he drove deeper—and then he released his seed deep within her. She could feel the force of it. Hot, vital, alive. This was what was meant when a man and woman became one.

At last, the world made sense.

Her purpose in this life was to be with this man. Every step she’d taken, every incident, setback,
twist of fate…had all been leading her here. No wonder she’d fallen into his arms when they met at the Swan. She had unknowingly been searching for him.

He collapsed with a deep, satisfied sigh.

Fiona smiled. She liked the weight of him upon her. She stroked his hair, enjoying its silky feel. “Mine,” she murmured.