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  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LAURA HAD never really thought Hamilton would dishonor her. Once he had done the deed — that was, done her — he would then be duty-bound to marry her.

  Because he was upright. Principled. Decent. All those fabulous attributes which an English nobleman should uphold.

  But she objected — strongly, violently objected — to being a part of his obligations. “You’re doing this for Ronald.”

  His look of surprise lasted only until he looked her over, naked and waiting. “Believe me, your brother is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “I’ll not be married out of duty. I’d rather be your mistress.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughed until she stung with embarrassment and wrestled away. “Whoa.” He caught her immediately and tried to regain a respectable amount of gravity. “That is an offer I will treasure. However, I won’t marry you out of duty.”

  He fit the scarf over her wrists and tied them to the rail, and she stared at him in frustration. “Then why?”

  “Tug on your hands,” he instructed.

  She did as she was told. He’d managed to wrap that scarf around securely enough to keep her in place, yet gently enough the circulation still flowed.

  He sighed with pleasure. “Such a relief. I’d hate to think you’d rescued me, shot the spy, and tied a better knot than me. It would be such a blow to my ego.”

  Hamilton wasn’t going to answer her. He wasn’t going to tell her why he proposed marriage when he could have her for so much less, and that made her even more sure that it was duty, or his promise to Ronald, or some other stupid, manly decency thing that reduced her to an obligation which made a mockery of her love.

  She turned her face away.

  He sighed, his breath a faint feather on her skin. “You’ll never forgive me, will you?”

  “For what?”

  “For sending Ronald to his death.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “That.”

  Sitting back on his heels, he studied her. “You tie me naked to the bed and leave me for anyone to find in revenge for your brother’s death, then you say, Oh, that?”

  She almost laughed at his disgruntled tone. Almost, if only he weren’t pressed so close against her, torturing her with what he offered, and yet withholding so much. “If you’d told me that Jean was a spy for France, I would have understood. Once Ronald had a chance to work for England, no one could have kept him from it.”

  “Ahh.” Hamilton kissed her, a light comforting press of the lips on her cheek. “You knew him well.”

  “It’s the curse of being a loyal soldier’s child. We’ll all fly into danger for Mother England.” She mocked herself and her own courage. “It was the thought of Ronald dying for something as trivial as French brandy that made me angry.”

  “If that was angry, I’d hate to see you furious.” Hamilton tugged at the scarf. “Not even this would keep me safe, I suspect. So if it’s not anger, what is it that keeps you from having me?”

  Placing his hands on her wrists, he ran them down her arms. She didn’t want to feel anything, but his caress made her squirm. “Laura,” he called softly. Never lifting his hands, he smoothed them over her breasts, down her stomach, along her thighs to the garters at her knee. “I should take these off,” he said. “But I like them. They remind me of you. You’re laying here gloriously nude, exposed, trusting me enough to let me tie you, yet not trusting me enough to tell me your secrets. Yet I can tell you mine.” Holding her hips, he laid on her, giving her his warmth. “I love you, Laura Haver.”

  Startled by his words, his fervency, his need, she turned to him and stared.

  “You’re going to marry me because I’m not going to give you a choice. I’ve compromised you in front of my men and in front of Ernest.”

  She wiggled, wanting to grab him by the ears and make him talk. ”Never mind the compromising. What about the love?”

  “I can’t never mind the compromising. My grandmother knows everything that goes on on this estate, and when she hears about this, she’ll take a switch to me. You, too, if you won’t marry me.”

  “Love?” she urged.

  “You’ll learn to love me.” He kissed her cheek, then nuzzled the place behind her ear. “You already like to make love with me, I can tell, and that’ll get better and better.” His hands stroked a long, slow line from her hips to her throat. “Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll demonstrate further.”

  A warm shiver slid up her spine. “If I don’t?”

  “I’ll demonstrate anyway.” He kissed one breast, then grinned at her wickedly. “I’ll demonstrate to you the same way you demonstrated to me … earlier.”

  He meant that he’d make her want him, then leave her unsatisfied.

  No wonder she had seen sparks of the tiger in him. Beneath that placid facade hid a man determined to have his own way and ruthless enough to do anything to get it.

  Well, she wanted her own way, too, “I’ll marry you,” she said.

  Taking her nipple between two fingers, he rolled it. “Why?”

  Pressure sprang up between her legs, and she pressed her hips toward him to relieve it.

  But he moved away, still touching her.

  She mumbled, “I love you.”

  His eyelids drooped, then he fixed her with his interrogational gaze. “What?”

  Louder, she said, “I love you.”

  “Truly?”

  “I love you truly.”

  He looked at her carefully, not quite believing her.

  She lifted her head and kissed him. Kissed him with her lips and tongue and with the force of her passion.

  When she finished, the grave shadow had gone from his eyes and they gleamed with gratification and a depraved touch of elation. “I love you truly, too,” he said.

  “I believe you.” She shifted impatiently. “Now untie me.”

  Peeling himself off of her, he looked her over from her stocking feet to her wiggling hands. “No.”

  Indignant, she struggled to sit up. “You promised—”

  Licking his thumb, he circled her navel until the damp brought a chill to her skin. Observing the goosebumps that covered her, he smiled with satisfaction.

  He hadn’t promised to untie her, she realized. He’d only promised to withhold satisfaction if she didn’t marry him.

  Rubbing his cheek on her stomach, he moistened her skin with his tongue.

  “Hamilton.” She used her fiercest voice.

  He paid no attention. He only slipped further down her body and wrapped one arm around each one of her thighs.

  “Hamilton!”

  He corrected her, “Keefe,” and dipped his head between her legs.

  She shrieked his name. “Keefe!”

  Lifting his head, he said, “You can make as much noise as you wish.” Then he nuzzled deep in the cleft between her legs. ”No one interferes between a man and his wife.”

  “I can make a lot of noise,” she snapped. Looking down she could see only the forehead and eyebrows. His tongue licked at her in the first sharp, glorious step to gratification. Leaning back, her mouth curled in the anticipation of satisfaction. “But the door is locked, so we won’t have to worry.”

  THE END

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

 
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