Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,41

impatient to feel his mouth on hers again. He obliged, covering her mouth as he stretched out beside her, measuring her length with his body, arousing in her feelings she could not control.

She was almost swooning, transported to another world by the sensations he was creating in her. He had removed her ruff and was now kissing her throat, his hands unfastening the drawstring on her bodice so that he could caress her breasts. They were taut and hard, pressing against his questing fingers and when he began to circle one tender nub with his thumb she groaned aloud, her head going back as the pleasure of it surged through her whole body.

Susannah reached out for him. She did not know when he had cast off his jacket and waistcoat, but there was only the thin linen shirt between her hands and his flesh. She could feel the hard outline of his back, the contours of his shoulders, his spine. It was all so new, so exhilarating. She gasped as his mouth replaced the thumb at her breast and her body responded, softening, the very bones liquefying. His hand smoothed over her silken skirts, pushing them aside to stroke her thigh. She was drowning in the pleasure of him, opening, turning towards his questing fingers, inviting him to go further, to explore her fully.

Susannah moved sensuously against the covers. She had not known it could be so wondrous, this attraction between a man and a woman. That she could feel so alive, so at one with another person. Was it always like this? Was this how it had been for...

Memories and cold fear returned.

‘No.’ She was seized by panic and tried to push him off. ‘No, please. Please, don’t do this.’

Immediately he stopped and drew away. Instead of relief she felt merely chilled and bereft.

‘Susannah? What is it, my dear, what is wrong?’

She rolled away from him and scrabbled to sit up, hugging herself.

‘I never meant— I should never— I am so ashamed.’ She buried her face in her hands as hot tears burned her cheeks. Trembling, she waited for him to curse her roughly for her wanton behaviour, to swear, maybe even to lash out at her.

After a deathly silence broken only by her muffled sobs she felt his hand on her shoulder. A light touch. Soothing, not threatening.

‘I beg your pardon, Susannah. This is all my fault. I never intended... Oh, hell and damnation, what a coil!’

His gentleness made her cry even harder. He shifted until he was sitting beside her and gently pulled her against him.

‘I promised you I would do nothing without your consent, my dear. If I misunderstood—’

She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to tell him how much she had wanted, relished every touch, every caress.

‘I must go—’

He held her tighter.

‘No, not yet. It is not yet midnight, there are too many people abroad. Someone might recognise you.’

‘Then what shall I do?’

‘You must stay here until dawn and I will find you a chair.’

‘I cannot stay here, with you.’

‘To leave my chambers now would be to risk being seen. You would be ruined.’ He exhaled, a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘I think I have misjudged you. We must talk.’

‘No, not yet.’ She held her head in her hands. ‘I feel so tired.’

He pulled her unresisting on to the bed.

‘Then lie here and sleep.’ He added quickly, ‘You will be perfectly safe. I promise I shall not molest you again. The bed is wide enough for us both to lie on it without touching.’

Susannah turned away from him and curled herself into a ball. Molest her? He had not molested her. He had awoken her to the delights of her own body. He had seduced her and she had succumbed most willingly. Oh heavens, she was no different from those poor unfortunate girls at Florence House. They too had been seduced by fine words and soft caresses, before they had been abandoned. How could she have been so weak? No wonder young ladies required a chaperon to be with them constantly. She had not known how it could feel, had not realised how wayward her own body could be. She thought of the man lying beside her. There was no doubt he was kind and gentle, but it made him no less a seducer.

She felt the bed move as he slid off it, heard him pad across the room. A moment later there was the soft click as the key turned in the lock. Her