Secrets Vol 2 Read online

  She stirred under his touch. He jerked back his hand and waited to see if she'd rouse, but she subsided once more, turning onto her side and curling up with one hand under her cheek.

  Justin couldn't help himself. He stroked her face, barely touching her, from temple to chin. When she murmured, he took his hand

  14 Bonnie Hamre

  away. He waited until he was sure she slept, then sat back and made himself comfortable. Cook sent up a dinner tray with a bowl of chicken broth for her, but she wouldn't awaken.

  When the footman came to retrieve the tray, Justin inquired, "What news?"

  "None, my lord. The stable lads aren't back."

  "The child?"

  "Sleeps now, sir, but she's hungry."

  "Try some warm milk."

  "Cook did, sir. The baby wouldn't take a drop, sir, not a drop."

  Justin cursed. A baby was bad enough. A starving baby went beyond the pale. How was he to care for it if she wouldn't eat?

  Shortly before midnight, the woman stretched, moaned and uttered several unintelligible words. On his feet in an instant, Justin bent over her.

  "Yes, I promise..." she muttered. "You may count on me."

  Justin's eyebrows rose. Whom did she reassure in her sleep? What promise had she made that so worried her? Did it have to do with him? The woman moved restlessly, disturbing the bedcovers, as if even in sleep she braved the storm still seething outside.

  When Justin reached out to straighten the blankets, his hand brushed her breast. He froze, his fingers instinctively cupping the warm weight. He was right. She fit his hand perfectly. The nipple was an enticing presence in his palm. What would it take to fondle the nipple into a hard kernel?

  Without volition, his hand enclosed the tender globe and squeezed gently. The woman murmured and arched into his touch, as if asking more from him. Justin caught his breath at the unspoken request and complied. One stroke, then two. Just as he had imagined, her nipple expanded in his palm.

  My God, much more of this and he'd play right into her hands.

  Cursing his impulses, he again seated himself to continue the vigil. While she slept, he dozed. Her mumbles brought him awake.

  SNOWBOUND 15

  Once more he approached the bedside, leaning down so that his ear almost rested on her lips. She said nothing more but her body stiffened. Drawing back, he studied her. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't open. Nevertheless, he thought she was aware of his presence. "Are you awake?"

  A small pink tongue edged along the seam of her lips. "Yes," she said in little more than a croak.

  "Are you hungry?"

  She managed a brief shake of her head.

  "Thirsty, then?"

  "Yes."

  He eased his hand to the nape of her neck to lift her head. Her skin under the heavy mass of her hair was warm and soft. He imagined his lips on the silky skin, his tongue tickling her, drinking in the taste of her. When she glanced at the glass in his hand, he remembered what he was about. Holding the glass to her mouth, he let her drink. "Not too much at once," he cautioned when she guzzled greedily.

  She sank back against the pillows. Reluctantly, Justin withdrew his hand.

  He replaced the glass and watched as she struggled to stay awake. "Can you tell me who you are?"

  "Sarah. Sarah Wilder."

  "Well, Mrs. Wilder."

  "Miss."

  Justin sat back in his chair. A miss looking to be a countess. Just as he'd expected, he thought with a curious sense of disappointment.

  "Miss Wilder, where is your home? We could try to get a message through..." Justin's voice trailed off as she slipped back into sleep. Her mouth was partly open, her lips beckoning him to sample them. He ran his tongue over his own lips as if he could already taste hers.

  Something about her drew him. Whatever her.reasons, and he had no doubt they were as pressing as the next husband-hunting woman's, she had survived the blizzard and kept the baby safe. That

  16 Bonnie Hamre

  took courage and fortitude, and a steely determination, all qualities he admired in a man. To find them in a woman unsettled him.

  Her teeth chattered. She rolled into a little ball, as if seeking greater warmth. Justin felt her head, then searched for another blanket. Finding none, he rooted through the armoire in his dressing room until he found his warm, cashmere robe. He placed that over her, but still she shivered.

  He bit his lip, then, tight-lipped, he stripped off his boots and clothes and slid naked under the covers with her. The cold spread in icy waves from her body. Shivering, he hesitated. Until now, everything he'd done could be explained as caring for a lost wayfarer. Climbing naked under the sheets was another thing altogether. Climbing naked into bed with a beautiful woman was begging for whatever the fates decreed.

  He slid back to the side of the bed and placed one foot on the floor. She shuddered and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

  This is for her own good, damn it. He drew her slender body into his arms. She stiffened, then bucked as an untamed filly, rejecting his hold on her, thrusting him away and once even striking him on the chest.

  Her frenzied movement shifted the tails of the nightshirt above her thighs. He reacted immediately to the feel of her bare skin against his abdomen.

  Cursing his errant rod and her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his arms, back to belly. Her heels drummed against his shins. He threw one leg over hers to keep her still. She continued to thrash about until, little by little, his body heat warmed her. Her restless movements eased until she lay motionless in his arms. She slept deeply.

  Wide awake, Justin ground his teeth.

  Her buttocks, soft fleshy provocation, lay nestled against his cock. His yard, uncaring that he wished to be anywhere but here suffering Lucifer's revenge, reacted predictably to the supple female flesh. He counted to ten, then twenty, then from thirty in reverse. Nothing helped.

  In her sleep, she burrowed closer to him. Her thighs parted as if

  SNOWBOUND 17

  to allow his rigid cock entrance to her body. His shaft, that unscrupulous fellow, ardently accepted the invitation. He stiffened, gritted his teeth and pulled back as a tiny drop of moisture fell from his cock to her thigh. He would not fall victim to her cunning, no matter how he ached and longed to plunge inside her.

  She turned to her back. Justin exhaled, his breath heavy. Better. At least that temptation had abated. She rolled to her side, facing him, and cuddled close. One of her hands rested against his torso, the fingers curling into his chest hair.

  God. Justin went still. His back straightened into a rigid parade-yard pose, his thighs immobile. His breathing slowed. If holding her bottom to his belly had been torment, this was torture of the worst kind. With her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples teased his. Every breath she took increased his fever. Each exhalation taunted his control. His cock swelled and grew harder. His blood boiled.

  She curved her body into his. Her hips pressed into his. Her mound teased him. His cock probed the juncture of her thighs. He held his breath as the tip of his rod sought and found the warm, moist entrance. For a moment, he did nothing but relish the sensation. It would be so easy to take her. All he had to do was push himself in, take his pleasure and be done.

  She'd never know.

  He penetrated her, just enough to make him grit his teeth. She was tight yet her tiny muscles gripped him even tighter. The sweat beaded on his brow as he held himself motionless. All it would take was one thrust and he'd be deeply seated. His cock quivered as he pressed in. He groaned at the pleasure. And stopped short.

  Rakehell that he was, he still couldn't take an unconscious woman.

  He could have bellowed his frustration. Instead, he eased away from her. She followed, as if seeking his warmth, or was it to keep him with her? Bolting, breathing hard, he found himself at the edge of the wide bed.

  The woman turned away, rolling back to the center of the bed. She

/>   18 Bonnie Hamre

  pushed at the woolen robe, muttering and thrashing, until Justin leaned over and felt her forehead. She burned with fever. He pulled back his warm garment, but left her under the blankets. The quicker her fever broke, the sooner she'd be well enough to continue her journey.

  He rose and dressed quickly. The feel of his shirt over skin sensitized by her nipples made him throb. He pulled the bell cord until Pruitt appeared.

  "My lord?"

  Justin gestured to the bed. "Stay with her. Wake me if her condition changes."

  "Where shall I find you, sir?"

  Justin paused. "The library," he said, his voice short. "How does the child?"

  "She is fretful, sir. The wet nurse has not arrived."

  "Damn. Do what you can for the child." After Pruitt left, Justin studied the unconscious woman for a few moments more, then made his way down the drafty halls to the library, his favorite room. He built up the fire, poured himself a large brandy and made himself comfortable in an armchair.

  His smiled tinged on the ironic. He'd been here, only hours ago, reflecting on his safety, and look at him now.

  He wanted to vent his outrage on the mysterious Miss Wilder, but all he could think of was joining her again in his large, comfortable bed. He wrenched his thoughts away from the vivid image of their sprawled bodies, intertwined, his buried so deep in hers she'd never feel the cold again.

  The little bit of her that he'd already experienced made him hungry for more. Her soft bite had teased him and pleased him. Now he wanted it all.

  He'd plunge again and again, sating himself in her soft satiny depths, pleasuring her until she cried out with the force of her orgasm, until his sperm shot forth and filled her every crevice.

  God. He'd never been so hot.

  Snowbound 19

  Chapter Three

  Justin set his napkin down on the lace cloth spread before him and stared at the wintry morning beyond the dining room windows.

  Ordway entered, wearing his most put-upon expression, and cleared his throat. "My lord, that child is at last asleep. It cried half the night. The staff did not sleep well."

  "Have you found a wet nurse?"

  "A stable lad fetched one from the village. She disliked the storm and the horse, but the lad promised your lordship would reward her well."

  Has she fed the infant?"

  "That is why it now sleeps."

  Justin nodded impatiently. "Is there more news?"

  "The grooms have brought in a badly damaged carriage, my lord. One of the horses had to be put down. John Coachman is dead."

  "Pity." Justin drummed his fingers on the table. "I shall ask our guest if he is a family servant. If not, it will be up to us to see to the proprieties." He looked sharply at his butler. "Did they find any others?"

  "No, my lord. We shall continue the search, but unless someone took refuge in the village..." The butler's tone said it all. "The trunks and valises have been brought in to dry."

  "No doubt Miss Wilder will be glad of her own things."

  "Miss Wilder, sir?" Justin caught sight of his butler's mouth hanging open. He nodded.

  "Will the lady and the child be staying long?"

  20 Bonnie Hamre

  "Until the storm abates and Miss Wilder is well enough to travel. Is she awake yet?"

  "She is, sir. Cook sent up a tray. It came back untouched."

  Justin shot to his feet. None of this. He wanted her out of his house. In moments, he was pounding up the staircase, three steps at a time. At the door to his room, he managed to restrain himself enough to knock.

  He heard a muffled "Come in," and pushed open the door.

  His guest sat up in bed, propped against the pillows. Where last night he had left a sick woman, this morning he found a delicious creature radiating health. Her hand stilled as it stroked his silver-backed brush through the glorious hair streaming sunlit gold over his linen pillow cases. Her face no longer wore that cold, pinched look, but bloomed softly in shades of pink and cream that had his palms sweating.

  The severe lines of his nightshirt made him look twice. Frothy lace, furbelows, silks that revealed more than they temptingly concealed, those he could handle. His plain, white linen nightshirt covered everything but the pulse beating at her throat. He stared like a schoolboy at the sleeves rolled up over her narrow wrists and the collar too loose to button securely at her neck,

  Her breasts pushed against the nightshirt. He could feel again the soft weight of them against him, in his palm. Why hadn't he tasted them when he had the chance?

  "Good morning," he managed at last. "I see you are feeling better. I feared you would be ill."

  She turned her head to him. Oh, God. Those eyes. He'd been right about them. Large, lustrous, their softly shining cinnamon color drew him closer, and closer still, until he stood at the foot of the bed. He'd been right the first time. They'd tempt the devil himself, and God knew he was no angel.

  "Much better, as you can see." She dropped the brush in her lap and leaned forward. "How is Emmy? Where is she?" she asked

  Snowbound 21

  quickly, eagerly. "I wish to see her."

  Justin's gaze followed the brush, then traveled down her covered legs to her feet and back again. He remembered the delicate arches, the slender ankles and the perfect curves of her calves and had to restrain himself from fitting his palms to them and caressing her through the blankets. He again eyed her breasts, covered with maidenly modesty by the sheet she belatedly tucked up under her chin.

  He repressed the urge to whisk it back, to see for himself if her body was as marvelous by day as it had been by candlelight. He swallowed hard at the thought of exploring every curve and dip of her body, testing the hidden petals to discover if they were still as heated and liquid. Maybe he shouldn't be in such a hurry to see her gone.

  "Is there something wrong with Emmy?" Sarah's voice rose as she put a hand to her throat. "Oh, God, tell me she is not—"

  "No, no." Justin forced his thoughts away from the delights of her body. "Forgive me for not telling you immediately. There is nothing wrong. A wet nurse from the village has seen to her. Your niece is sleeping."

  Sarah fell back against the pillow, her hand dropping to her breast.

  "Oh, thank you," she whispered. "I asked the servant who brought my tray, but he could tell me nothing. I have been quite out of my mind with worry."

  "Understandable. You must now rest and see to your own mending."

  "Oh, I am quite recovered." She sat up and tucked the sheet about her breasts again. "I enjoy perfect health."

  "So I see." He edged nearer to the ornately carved footboard which hid him to mid-chest. Garbed as he was in his usual buckskin breeches and superfine jacket, there wasn't much chance of concealing his erection.

  "I must thank you for giving us shelter from the storm. Emmy and I shall continue on our way today, as soon as—"

  "I'm afraid that will not be possible, Miss Wilder," Justin cut in smoothly. He expected to see a triumphant smile, some indication

  22 Bonnie Hamre

  that she was pleased to see her plan succeeding.

  Her nose wrinkled in a most delightful way. Justin watched it for a moment until he forced himself to think with his brain and not his cock. "I have bad news. Your carriage is severely in need of repair. Your coachman did not survive the accident."

  "Oh, no." She looked down at her lap, then up at him. "Poor man."

  Oh, well done! That hint of moisture in her eyes was an artful touch. Would she be as artful with passion? He dragged his mind back. "Was he a family servant?"

  "No," she shook her head, making her hair ripple in golden waves. "I procured the carriage and the use of his services."

  "I see. Give me the particulars and I shall notify his employers."

  "Thank you. This leaves me in an awkward position, Mr.—"

  Smoothly done. "Justin Stowe," he said with a bow, omitting his title.

  "M
r. Stowe." She repeated his family name so easily he wondered if she had not heard the servants address him properly. "I must get Emmy to my aunt."

  "So you have indicated, Miss Wilder, but—" He held up a hand to stop her protests. "You must remain here until your carriage is repaired." When her shoulders slumped, he added, testing her, "Unless, of course, you would accept the use of one of mine?"

  Her face brightened immediately. "How kind of you, Mr. Stowe. I should not deprive you of its use for very long."

  Justin's gut twisted. She offered him just what he had thought he wanted. She desired to depart immediately, to leave him in peace, and he didn't want her to go. Damnation. How had she managed to turn the tables on him?

  He checked his annoyance. "If you go so soon, you open the door to other claimants. Your scheme will fail."

  Her brow furrowed. "Claimants? What scheme?"

  "It was dangerous and foolish to risk the child in your intrigue.

  Snowbound 23

  You are lucky neither of you came to harm—"

  "I had no choice, sir!" she cried. "I had to do what I did."

  "You had to arrive in the middle of a storm? Wouldn't spring have served as well? Soft breezes are far more comfortable for seductions than winter gales."

  "Seduct..." her breath faltered. Her cheeks went red. "Sir! You convince me I must leave at once."

  She should tread the boards. Confusion, modesty, maidenly blushes, her act was perfection. Was it possible she told the truth? It was conceivable, he supposed, yet in his experience, veracity and women didn't go hand in hand. Justin studied her. "Do you deny you are here to trap me?"

  'Trap you," she echoed. "What on earth would I want with you?"

  Her question stung. Pricked by his own arrogance. Could he be wrong? He hesitated, reluctant to let go of his suspicions, lest this be a clever move to disarm him, yet her expression left him no doubt. Whatever her plots and machinations, they had nothing to do with him. His spirit felt lighter, happier that he didn't have to be on guard with her.

  However, her reason for traveling in this weather remained to be explained. "You cannot leave until you regain your strength."