Stranger in My Arms(35)

Lara’s heart thundered in her chest, and she whirled toward the corner. Hawksworth lounged in a Hepplewhite chair with a shield-shaped back.

“Good Lord,” she gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“I just did.” He had shed his coat and waistcoat, the thin linen shirt clinging fluidly to his broad shoulders and lean torso. As he came nearer, she caught the smell of his skin, mingled with the salt of perspiration, the tang of bay rum, and the faint but pleasant scent of horses.

Trying to ignore her own stirring attraction to him, Lara folded her arms around herself and regarded him with extreme dignity. “I would appreciate your leaving, as I am about to change my gown.”

“I’m offering my services in lieu of your maid’s.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I would prefer Naomi.”

“Are you afraid I’ll ravish you if I see you undressed?” he mocked.

“I’ll try to control myself. Turn around.”

Lara stiffened as he turned her away from him. He began on the back of her gown, unfastening the miniature hooks with maddening slowness. The air touched her overheated skin, making her shiver. The heavy gown fell away by degrees, until she clutched at the bodice to keep it from slipping down her front “Thank you,” she said. “That was very helpful.

I can do the rest now.”

Hawksworth ignored the stilted command and reached inside the back of her dress, unhooking her lightly boned stays. Lara swayed and closed her eyes.

“That’s enough,” she said unsteadily, but he continued, pulling the gown from her grasp, pushing it down her h*ps until it dropped to the floor in a humid heap. The stays followed, and she was left only in her chemise and drawers and stockings. His palms hovered over her shoulders and upper arms, not quite touching, bringing goose bumps to her skin and making the fine downy hairs prickle. Her toes dug into the carpet.

She hadn’t felt like this since she was a frightened young girl on her wedding night, not knowing what was expected of her, having no idea what he intended.

Still standing behind her, Hawksworth reached across her front to the mother-of-pearl buttons closing her chemise. For a man she had once considered rather ham-handed, he released the tiny buttons with surprising dexterity. The chemise sagged beneath his ministrations, cool air wafting over her exposed cle**age. The delicate cambric clung to the tips of her ni**les, barely concealing them.

“Do you want me to stop now?” she heard him ask.

Yes, she wanted to say, but her unruly mouth wouldn’t produce a sound.

She was paralyzed with curiosity as he let down her hair, smoothing back the strands that clung to her moist, salty cheeks. His fingers slid under the dark silk and lightly rubbed her scalp, his touch so soothing and pleasurable that she felt a responsive moan welling up in her throat. Her back arched, and she fought the overwhelming temptation to lean against him and invite more.

He stroked the back of her neck, manipulating the taut muscles that ached from her labors of the morning, releasing pain and delight at the same time. He spoke close to her ear, making her shiver. “Do you trust me, Lara?”

She shook her head, still unable to speak.

He laughed softly. “I don’t trust myself, either.

You’re too beautiful, and I want you too damn badly.”

He stood so close, but the only place he touched her was her neck, his fingers compressing the sore nape with exquisite gentleness. She sensed rather than felt that he was aroused again. The thought should have made her bolt, but somehow she just stood quietly under his ministrations. She felt tipsy, off-balance, wild thoughts flitting through her mind.

If only he would kiss her again the way he had before, his mouth so hard and delicious…

A sweet ache spread through her br**sts, collecting at the tips. Lara bit her lip as she tried to keep from snatching at his warm fingers and pulling them to her body. Shamed, she kept still and prayed that he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until it rushed between her lips in a quick gasp.

“Lara,” she heard him murmur, and her heart stopped as he lifted the knee-length hem of her chimise, gathering it in handfuls until he reached the waist of her drawers. She began to tremble, her legs weakening until she was forced to lean against him for support. His chest was like a stone wall. His sex was huge and hard as it nestled against the pliant curve of her bu**ocks.

He pulled at the tape of her drawers, and they slipped down to her ankles. She heard his breathing change, felt the tremor in his hand as he rested it for one dizzying moment on her bare hip. Then he dropped the hem of her chemise, letting it cover her once more.

He picked her up with ridiculous ease, and she was swallowed in his strength. She kept her neck tense, refusing to lay her head on his shoulder, remaining stubbornly silent as he carried her across the room. The panicked question shot through her-was he going to make love to her? Let him, she thought suddenly. Let him do exactly what he had done all those times before. Let him prove that it was as awful as she remembered… and then she would be free of him. She would regard him with her old steadfast indifference, and he would have no more power over her.

To her surprise, he didn’t carry her to the bed, but to the chair at her dressing table. He lowered her into the chair and knelt at her feet, his powerful thighs spread for balance. Light-headed, Lara stared into the handsome face so near hers. Sounds from outside the room penetrated the quietness… the muffled clang of a servants’ bell, the low of animals grazing on the vast lawn, the bark of a dog, the rustling of servants going about their daily tasks. It seemed impossible that there was a busy world around them. All that existed was this room, and the two of them in it.