Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (23 page)

Nathan tipped his head toward the corner. “I went back to the coach and retrieved our luggage. I couldn’t lug your trunk around so I took the liberty of bringing a few of your clothes.”

“Thank you.” It barely even registered that he’d gone through her underclothes. This adventure had become so much bigger than propriety and rules.

She huddled into her blanket and let the silence wrap around them save for the crackling fire, the snoring dog and the wind still howling outside. Nathan settled beside her. Shoulder to shoulder they stared into the fire. There was a difference to this silence, as if they’d reached a
different level to their friendship.

She didn’t have many friends because Richard rarely allowed it. There was her sister-in-law, Emmaline, but even she knew less about her than Nathan did. There was Gabrielle, who suspected what Claire’s life had been like but to whom Claire had never had the courage to admit anything. That was it. That was the extent of her friends.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence.

Nathan looked at her in surprise. “For what?”

“For saving me.”
For being my friend.

He turned his gaze back to the fire. “I endangered your life instead of saving it.”

“If you hadn’t driven the coach, that crowd would have killed us.”

He shook his head and Claire surprised herself by freeing her hand from the blanket and placing a finger over his warm, soft lips. “Shhh. No more. You were wonderful.”

She drew her hand away but not before his heat singed her fingers. Claire suspected
this
tingling had little to do with frostbite.

“Claire.” He looked down on her, their lips barely a breath apart. This close she could see the stubble along his jaw, the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

His gaze dropped to her lips and a small huff escaped him. “This isn’t good.”

No, it wasn’t.

She didn’t want Nathan Ferguson as a lover because he frightened her. She feared he would ask more of her, more than she could give, more than she had in her. He would be a demanding lover and she wasn’t certain she was equipped for that.

“What the hell,” he muttered before lowering his lips to hers.

He put his hands on her arms and pulled her closer until her body was flush with his, her breasts pressed against his powerful chest.

No, this wasn’t good. But it felt good.

The kiss was everything she suspected it could be. Harsh, demanding, coaxing. Gentle at times, rough at times. Their previous kisses were nothing but a prelude to this. Child’s play compared to what she was experiencing now.

His tongue prodded the seam of her lips and she opened up to his command because she could do nothing less. He swept in, exploring, tasting.

His arm went around her back, cradling her to him, anchoring her in place. She was glad
of the support because suddenly her world was spinning out of control and she had nothing to hold on to except Nathan.

He broke away to trail kisses across her cheek, nipping at her earlobe before venturing to her throat. Delicious shivers raced across her skin. Her head fell back, too heavy to keep upright.

Nathan gave no quarter. His hot lips touched her neck, her shoulder, the sensitive area in between.

“Claire.”

She had to swallow in order to speak. “Yes?”

“We need to stop.”

“Stop. Yes.”
No!

“This is improper,” he said between kisses.

She tried to smile but his lips seemed to melt her. “Improper, my lord? You? Never.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and chuckled, then breathed deep. “You are exquisite. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.” Richard told her she was frigid and ugly on more than one occasion. She was almost positive that
exquisite
never left his lips. At least not in reference to her.

“Then many a man was a fool.”

His free hand drifted down, parted the blanket and settled hotly, heavily on her breast. She closed her eyes, fighting undesirable memories.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered in her ear, his breath so warm it caused her skin to gooseflesh.

“N-No.” This was what she wanted. This was the reason she was traveling to Venice in search of a lover. She wanted to know if she truly could make love to a man without disgusting him.

So far she was fairly certain that Nathan wasn’t disgusted.

Gently his fingers explored her breast, so faint was his touch that they were like butterfly wings against her sensitive skin. She’d never been touched in such a way before—so reverently. As if every movement was a prayer in her honor.

It brought tears to her eyes. Tears she couldn’t blink away fast enough.

Nathan’s head came up and his hand jerked away from her. “Claire?”

She guided his hand back to her breast. “They’re tears of joy. Trust me.”

He let it sit there, unmoving while he studied her face. She stared back, for once not hiding her thoughts from him, letting the tears fall down her cheeks.

His fingers plucked her erect nipple. She jumped and gasped at the pleasure the small pain brought her. She never knew pleasure and pain could be combined like that. Such a wonderful feeling.

He leaned forward, slowly lowering her to the ground, and peeled the blanket from her. She lay there, exposed to his hungry gaze, embarrassed but also curious.

He touched her nipple, causing her to bite back a groan, then her stomach, making the muscles contract, then her thigh, her knee. Each touch was featherlight, a slight caress that raced through her. His hand came back up to cup her cheek as he kissed her again, a gentle press of lips that became increasingly more insistent.

She was wet between her legs, a phenomenon she’d rarely experienced before. A restlessness took up residence inside her, wanting her to race toward a conclusion she wasn’t entirely sure of. Instead she took her cues from Nathan and forced patience upon herself.

He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. “Are you certain about this, love?”

“Yes.” More certain than she’d been about anything in her life. Even her need to escape to France.

He brushed her hair back. “If you need me to stop, tell me and I will.”

“I won’t. Need you to stop, that is.”

His expression was so serious, his brows dipping low over those chocolate eyes. “I don’t want regrets.”

“No regrets. You have my word.”

He didn’t look convinced but she didn’t know how to persuade him other than to kiss him again. So she did, raising her head and pressing her lips to his. She’d initiated a kiss only once in her life and had been soundly slapped for it. The humiliation was enough to never do it again. Until now.

“You undo me, my love.”

Her heart smiled at his words. Never before had she felt so precious, so special. Cosseted, yes. Stifled, yes. But never special. Tentatively she touched his hair, the dark strands warmed by the fire. She hooked her hand around his neck and held it there against his skin.

“I want you,” he whispered. “I want to be inside you, to feel you surround me.”

Her cheeks heated in another blush. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way. Richard had been crude and disgusting. There’d never been reverence in his voice as there was in Nathan’s. And while it embarrassed her, it also made her clench in a need so fierce that it stole her breath.

“I want to feel your wetness,” he said against her ear, causing her to shiver. “I want to spill my seed inside you.”

She moaned, his words too much. “I want those things too.”

He shook his head. “You must say it. How am I to know unless you say it?”

Her eyes flew open to find him looking down on her. “Make love to me.” It was the best she could do.

“Not good enough, Claire.”

She wanted to weep in frustration. Her body was a tight ball of inflamed desire and this man wanted her to
talk
? She could barely think. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

She was so wet between her legs that she felt it on her thighs.

He lowered himself until he was lying on top of her. She stilled. Unwanted memories surfaced, beating a panicked tattoo against her rib cage and stealing her breath.

“Look at me, Claire.”

Slowly her gaze moved to Nathan’s. Her breath came in quick pants. Not of the need she’d felt before but of panic. Of feeling a man on top of her once again.

“Who do you see?” he asked.

“You.”

“Say my name.”

“Blythe.”

“My given name.”

“Nathan.”

“Again.”

“Nathan.”

“Again.”

“Nathaniel Ferguson, Lord Blythe.”

“Remember that. There is no room for another.”

Tears filled her eyes. Dratted tears. He pushed them away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Now I will tell you what I’m going to do so there are no surprises,” he said. “Shall I begin?”

She nodded, letting loose another round of tears though inside she was no longer crying.

Nathan pressed his cheek to hers so his lips were close to her ear. His breath made her shiver and that ball of need coiled once again.

“I am going to touch your breasts,” he whispered in a soft, seductive voice. “I will more than likely take your breasts in my mouth and suck on them until your nipples stand erect and beg for more.”

Already they were standing at attention, hurting for his touch. The fine fabric of her chemise abraded them until they were so sensitive she could barely take it anymore.

“Please,” she said, unable to find a word adequate enough to express her yearning.

“Please what? Tell me what you want?”

Her breath shuddered out of her. She wouldn’t get what she wanted unless she spoke the words. So many years of etiquette drilled into her head by her governesses held her back.
Ladies did not mention certain body parts.

“Say it, Claire.”

And yet, what was this journey all about? It was about Claire Hartford breaking away from society, finding herself, becoming the person she wanted to become rather than the person others wanted her to be. And, by God, if she wanted to talk about her body then she would talk about her body.

“Kiss my breast.”

Nathan groaned, dipped his head and placed his mouth around her nipple without even removing her chemise. She was so shocked that at first she stiffened in embarrassment. Immediately her chemise became wet. The heat of his mouth scorched her breast, and his tongue … Good Lord. His tongue was like liquid fire, hot and potent and ceaselessly moving over her nipple until it throbbed.

Claire arched her back and pressed his head to her breast, silently begging him to continue. If he stopped, she would surely expire. She’d never felt this restless, this stricken with lust in her life. Nothing Richard ever did caused her to feel this way.

A whimper rose up in her and she was powerless to stop its escape. She wasn’t even embarrassed.

Nathan’s hand kneaded her other breast, then he switched sides and covered her neglected nipple with his mouth. Her body was overrun with so many sensations that she didn’t know which one to concentrate on.

His words came back to her, causing her body to flush all over.
I want to feel your wetness.

Yes, yes, yes!

He came up for air, staring down at her soaked chemise then looking up at her. Satisfaction darkened his eyes. “May I undress you?”

She nodded and before she knew it, her chemise was swept over her head, leaving her wholly naked. He stared down at her, her chemise balled in his hands.

“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently. “So precious.”

“Take your clothes off.”

His head jerked up. His nostrils flared.

Mortification raced through her. What if she said the wrong thing? What if she was too brazen?

A slow smile spread across his face as he loosened the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off. His bare chest, sprinkled with dark hair, fascinated her.

As if they had a mind of their own, her hands went up and her fingers combed through the hair, finding his nipples and plucking them. His eyes closed and he breathed deep as she played.

“Your breeches,” she said.

He fumbled with the fastenings, but eventually got them opened and stood, pushing his breeches down his muscular legs. Immediately his erection sprang forward. Steel tempered, flesh colored, rising from a nest of dark hair.

For a moment she experienced a burst of trepidation mixed with the fear she always felt when she saw Richard naked.

There is no room for another.

She pushed thoughts of Richard away, banishing him to a locked corner of her mind from where she wouldn’t let him out again.

Nathan lowered himself to his knees, his manhood swaying. “Touch me.”

She jerked her gaze to his. Her lips parted and she reached for him.

Nathan groaned and dropped his head back, arching forward into her hand. A sense of control overtook her. She and only she had the power to do this to him. Lightly she stroked, learning that if she concentrated her efforts on the tip, she received more of a reaction. If she ignored the tip, she encountered his frustration.

She delighted in the frustration, pushing him to his limits, watching the play of emotions cross his face. There were times when he seemed to be in pain and times when he seemed to be in ecstasy.

With her other hand she cupped his bullocks and he gasped. “Yessss.”

By using both hands she discovered she could bring him even more joy. She loved watching her fingers rove over the soft head. To her surprise she discovered he wasn’t entirely soft. There were ridges. Dips. She explored them all, giving it her entire concentration.

He was panting now, his hips pumping with each stroke of her hand. His groans had
become almost one continuous sound and she knew, with a woman’s intuition, that all the frustration, all the joy and all the ecstasy were coalescing into the final crescendo.

She slowed her movements and he growled, that frustration rearing its head again.

He pulled away from her. “Enough.” His voice was gravelly, harsh.

She smiled, satisfied and excited at what she’d learned this night. And frustrated for she was completely soaked between her legs and every time she moved, a bolt of shocking need passed through her.