On that fateful night in the library, Chelsea, Sebastian, and Melissa stayed up until dawn discussing methods and strategies to bring their plan to fruition.
Melissa was a romantic. She suggested that Chelsea spend time with the convalescing gentleman over the next few days, reading to him and charming him, until his heart was won and he would initiate a tryst.
Though Chelsea, too, was a romantic, she was against this course of action. She argued that they were already being dishonest enough as it was about far too many things. To woo him that way, romantically, when she had only one thing in mind, only increased their deceptions.
She explained that while she was willing to use her feminine powers to swindle the English legal system—which, in her opinion, favored men unfairly when it came to inheritance laws—she was less inclined to trick the stranger into believing she was falling in love with him. It would be best, she insisted, to be straightforward about what she wanted. A few nights of coupling, nothing more. Men did that sort of thing all the time, didn’t they? Surely he would take what she was offering without believing it ever had to lead to something more.
In the end they decided she was right. They would give the man two days to recover from his ordeal and gain his strength back—because he would definitely need his strength, Melissa whispered to her privately—then Chelsea would enter his bedchamber when the household was asleep and offer her body to him.
It was a simple, perfect plan, just like a scene she would write in one of her stories.
The following night Melissa was kind enough to share with Chelsea all she knew about the marriage act and how to arouse a man’s desires. She was straightforward and explicit, and described various activities in clear, colorful detail. She even suggested what to say, and how a woman could use her mouth for more stimulating purposes than simply talking and kissing.
Chelsea was both shocked and inspired. She had already seen the man naked, so not everything Melissa described came as a surprise.
What did surprise her, however, was how fearless and eager she felt, and how impatient she was to get under way. Seven years had passed since her passionate elopement with the fortune hunter, and since then she had been alone without the company or affections of a man—a spinster without prospects—though she had not forgotten the pleasures of kissing a man and feeling his hands on her body through her clothes.
As she sat in Melissa’s bedchamber remembering all the sensations that had been promised to her but were never delivered—for her father had intervened before the marriage could take place—she felt certain that she was going to succeed most spectacularly.
By the time the night of her deflowering arrived, Chelsea was more than prepared to embark upon her wild escapade. In the hours leading up to it, she spent the whole of the evening getting ready. She took a bath in rose-scented water and scrubbed her hair into a thick, sweet-smelling lather. After she rinsed, she laid her head back upon the rim of the tub and dreamed about the mysterious man in the bedchamber—about his naked body in the sea cave, the fire in his eyes when he woke and threw her violently to the floor, with great hulking strength.
And his hands…those strong, manly hands. She imagined them sliding up her bare legs, touching her face, kneading her breasts. She pictured herself naked on the bed beside him, and felt warm and relaxed in the tub, almost too weak to rise and get out.
She managed it, however, and stepped out dripping wet. She sat by the fire with a glass of brandy, completely naked, while her hair and body dried in the heat. Then, without the assistance of her maid, she combed and curled her hair so it fell in loose, shiny waves down her back.
Earlier in the day Melissa had come to her room and presented her with an exquisite silk dressing gown and her most expensive perfume, and Chelsea put everything on in a leisurely manner, taking her time to make sure all the details were perfect. She applied a balm to her lips to make them soft, and applied powder to her face and neck and arms, so that she smelled of roses.
When the clock in the hall finally chimed midnight, she was ready. She left her bedchamber with a bottle of wine and two glasses and tiptoed barefoot down the corridor to the gentleman’s room.
Finally, there she stood, outside his door, arrested on the spot by the sudden beating of her heart, while she fought a howling storm of apprehension inside her belly, which seemed to have come out of nowhere.
It was real now, she supposed, no longer a story playing out in her imagination. If her seduction was successful, he would kiss her and touch her and have sexual intercourse with her.
She took a deep, shaky breath and felt a sudden urge to return to her room.
But no. She could not do that. She’d made a decision and would not withdraw now. She wanted to do this. It was only natural to feel nervous, for no man had ever seen her in her dressing gown before, or even with her hair down, for that matter. She was not even wearing stockings. And this was nothing compared to what would occur once she was on the other side of this door.
Closing her eyes and wetting her lips, she reminded herself of all the reasons she was doing this and resolved to be brave. She reached for the key in her pocket and slipped it into the lock.
A few tempestuous heartbeats later she was inside the moonlit room, quietly locking the door behind her. She turned around and looked at the man asleep in the bed.
Her trembling breaths came faster and faster. Perhaps she should just pull off her nightdress, move straight to the bed, and slip silently under the covers. She could touch him, and if what Melissa said was true, he would be instantly aroused. She might not even need to say a word. He might simply roll over, couple with her, and it would be concluded, just like that.
“Where were you the past two days?” a gruff voice asked.
The question caused her to jump, for she hadn’t realized the man was awake. Suddenly unable to speak, she almost turned around and dashed out, but the sound and sight of the covers rustling over his legs as he sat up in the bed kept her fixed to her spot.
“I asked you a question,” he said. Anger darkened his voice, made him sound threatening. “Where have you been? I wanted to see you, but the maids ignored my requests.”
Not quite sure how to answer him, she pushed away from the door and walked around the foot of the bed. A square of moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the covers.
He watched her in silence. She could see only the dark outline of his head and shoulders, but could feel his masculine presence in the room like a low rumble of thunder, reverberating off the walls, quivering through her bones.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My mother kept me busy. Intentionally, I think.”
“To keep you safe from the wild beast who attacked you a few nights ago?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s keeping the beast in a cage for good measure,” he added broodingly. His resentment chilled her skin.
“I suppose that’s right.”
“You suppose?” His tone was menacing. “I don’t appreciate being locked up.”
“But you haven’t complained,” she anxiously replied. “I mean, I haven’t heard you banging on the door since the other morning.”
He tilted his head. “That’s because your doctor has been drugging me. Laudanum. Put in my wine.”
“What?” She couldn’t believe it. “Perhaps it was just to help you with the pain.”
“No. I was demanding to be let out on Sunday. The next thing I know, it’s Tuesday.”
She looked at the bottle of wine in her hand. “I’m very sorry, and I assure you, I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know what went on here on Sunday. As I told you before, my mother has been keeping me busy. She sent me on an errand.”
He watched her intently. “I didn’t drink the wine today. I’m only now just coming around.”
She set the bottle and glasses on the table by the window. “Then perhaps you don’t wish to drink what I brought.”
“Quite the contrary. I’m desperate for a taste of something. As long as it’s not laced with sleeping potion.”
She shook her head. “No, I snuck it out of the wine cellar myself.”
“Snuck it out. So you were a rebel today, were you?”
“I suppose you could say that.” She poured two glasses and approached the bed, handed him one, then backed away.
He slowly sipped the wine, then rested his handsome head on the pillows and regarded her directly. Oh, she was truly out of her depth. She had no idea how to proceed from here.
“How are you feeling otherwise?” she asked, making every effort to appear confident and at ease. “Is your wound any better?”
Because Melissa told her that he would have to be reasonably recovered in order to move about during their coupling. Evidently, he was going to work up a sweat.
“Much better,” he replied. “Your stitches were flawless.” He took another deep swig of the wine. “But why are you here, Lady Chelsea? According to the grandfather clock in the hall, it’s past midnight. You can hardly call this a proper time for a call, not to mention your state of dress.”
He looked her up and down slowly.
She was inclined to gather her dressing gown in a fist and pull it tight about her neck, but resisted. She could not forget that she was here to seduce him. She had to play the part of a coquette—a woman who knew what she wanted and how to go about getting it.
She gulped down half her wine, then spoke in a smooth and silky tone. “I was feeling lonely.”
“I see.” He finished his own wine and laid the empty glass down on the bed. “Then let me guess. You are here to seduce me.”
Feeling her cheeks flush red, Chelsea quickly smothered her shock and managed instead a sly grin. “It seems you find me a very easy book to read.”
He glanced down at her body again. “So I’ve hit the mark a second time. How clever of me.”
“No need to be smug. I should think it’s rather obvious. I’ve come to your bedchamber in the middle of the night wearing a dressing gown and enough perfume to make the room smell like a brothel. Why else would I be here?”
He looked at her with dark desire, then peeled back the covers beside him. For a full minute he reclined upon the fluffy pillows and waited.
Chelsea struggled to breathe steadily in and out. This was proving to be far more straightforward than she had imagined. And she had imagined quite a few interesting scenarios.
Making her way alluringly along the side of the bed, she paused a moment to finish her wine, then set the glass on the bedside table.
“Do you do this often with women you barely know?” she asked, fully aware that she was stalling.
“I have no idea. And I apologize in advance if I am inept at pleasing you. I don’t know if I’m any good or not. I could be a virgin for all I know.”
“I doubt that,” she said sardonically.
“So do I.”
Heart racing, she removed the silk wrapper and let it fall in a light, downy heap to the floor.
Well, it might have been light and downy, if not for the key in her pocket, which made a heavy clunk when it hit.
Her prospective lover paid it no mind, however. He simply sat there, his heated gaze roaming over her body.
It was time to climb onto the bed and slide beneath the covers.
Or perhaps she should remove her nightdress first…
Wetting her lips, she glanced away toward the window, wishing her stomach would stop swirling like a child’s top. But how could she stop it? She barely knew this man. How could she do all the things she had imagined herself doing with him? And to him?
This was very different from her private imaginings by the fire. It was real, and it was terrifying.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” she heard herself say before she could convince herself otherwise. Then she started for the door.
The man tossed the covers aside. He flew across the room in a flash. Chelsea halted in front of the door, but just as she grabbed for the knob, he smacked his hand against the door to keep it shut.
Not that she could have opened it anyway, because the key was still in the pocket of her wrapper, which was lying on the floor on the other side of the bed.
“What’s the hurry?” he asked teasingly, his long arm stretched out, braced hard up against the door. “I thought you came here to seduce me.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “But now it seems that you are the one initiating the seduction.”
He chuckled. “I’d hardly call chasing you around the bed a seduction. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I’d call it. I may not remember much about my life, but I don’t think this sort of thing is my usual style.”
Laboring to stay calm, she lowered her hand from the doorknob and turned around. He took a step to the side and braced both arms on either side of her head. His nose touched hers.
“And what is your usual style?” she asked.
“I can’t be absolutely sure, but I have a feeling I am a very depraved man who enjoys equally depraved women. Women who don’t make me chase them.”
She cleared her throat. “Then I apologize for getting you out of bed.”
He smiled devilishly. “No apologies necessary. I rather enjoyed it. It was like being on a hunt and leaping over a fence. In case you’re wondering, you’re the fox.”
He leaned closer and gently nuzzled her cheek, sending a torrent of gooseflesh tingling down the entire left side of her body.
“So you hunt,” she said breathlessly. “Does that qualify as a memory?”
His head drew back slightly. “I don’t recall anything specific, but you’re right. I suppose it does.”
“There. It tells me something about you.”
“And what’s that?”
“That it is likely you are not a butcher or a farmer.”
“A gentleman, you think.”
She nodded.
“Hm.” He continued to nuzzle her cheek, and ran his lips down the side of her neck. “Well, if I am a gentleman…” His hot, moist breath made her skin tingle. “…I suspect I am a terribly idle one who is irresponsible and hedonistic, because all I want to do at the present time is forget that I am being held captive, and settle myself between your luscious pink thighs and have my way with you.”
A wild mixture of excitement and terror surged through her body and shocked her with an unexpected shiver of delight. She was aroused by his audacity, she couldn’t deny it, but she could not allow herself to forget why she was doing this. She was not here to seek thrills. She was here because a secret child in her womb could relieve her of her duty to her family, and guarantee her future independence.
She strove to recapture her courage and stay focused. “Perhaps that’s what I want, too.”
“Is that why you have me locked up, then?” he whispered in her ear. “So you can keep me as your private slave?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. Perhaps when we are finished here, you wouldn’t mind sweeping out the grate in my bedchamber?”
He chuckled. “That would be a senseless waste of my talents, don’t you think?”
“I have yet to see proof of your talents, sir.”
He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and admiration, then stepped back and lowered his arms to his sides. “Take off your nightdress.”
She swallowed. “You’re not even going to kiss me first?”
“Do you want me to?”
She tried, but could not get her voice to work.
“I’ll kiss you if you like,” he said after a few intense seconds, “but I think I would do a better job at it if you were naked.”
Her legs were shaking. She willed them to stop, but of course they wouldn’t. All she could do was hope and pray that he would not see her knees quaking when the nightdress was on the floor.
“Would you like some help with the buttons?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” she replied, bending down and gathering the fine silk fabric in her hands, then pulling it over her head.
Tossing it to the floor, she kept her eyes lowered, and trembled at the sensation of the cool air wafting over her bare skin. When at last she lifted her gaze, she discovered he was not looking at her eyes. He was looking at her body.
He took her by the hand and led her to the bed. “Sit.”
She did as he told her to do, because despite everything Melissa had shared with her, she had no idea how to take charge of this.
“Now lie back.”
She did that, too, while her legs, which dangled over the edge of the mattress, continued to shake.
The stranger stood before her and removed his nightshirt. The blue moonlight shone in through the window to illuminate his magnificent nude body, which was still scarred from being hurled onto the rocks a few days ago. His muscular torso was wrapped in a clean white bandage. His shoulders were broad, his arms bent slightly at the elbows. His hair was a thick, dark, wavy mane of temptation.
“Tell me something,” he said, stepping forward to stand above her. He placed both hands on the tops of her thighs. “The other day you told me you had a duty to fulfill. What was it?”
She was finding it difficult to concentrate on his question when he was poised before her, in all his masculine glory.
“My mother wants me to marry my father’s cousin,” she answered plainly, “who will one day inherit my brother’s title. He is very old.”
“Your brother has no son of his own to inherit?”
“No, he does not.”
Her lover frowned, and she wondered if he was remembering something. “You are being forced to marry someone you do not want, in order to keep your mother happy?”
“Yes.”
Still standing, he positioned himself between her thighs. “Is that why you are here? To assert yourself and seek your own pleasures before you are carted off into the nightmare of your future?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“A fine reason, indeed,” he replied. “I would probably do the same thing if I were in your shoes. So, in that case, I shall be happy to oblige you.” He touched her breast with his thumb, and her nipples grew hard like pebbles. With the tip of a finger, he lightly stroked the length of her quivering belly, down to her navel.
She sucked in a breath of anticipation. “I thought you were going to kiss me first.”
He paused. “Ah, yes. I did promise that, didn’t I?”
Stepping back, he wrapped his arms around her backside, lifted her to the edge of the bed, then knelt down on both knees.
She had never in her life felt more exposed, while he stroked her calf, then dropped wet kisses along her inner thigh, suckling her sensitive skin until he arrived at the juncture between her legs.
To her utter shock and bewilderment, he began kissing her there, more passionately than she had ever imagined being kissed on the mouth before.
She writhed wildly on the bed, too stunned at first to enjoy it, until the initial few seconds passed and she was able to close her eyes and relax her body. Sensations like she had never known surged through her insides like the powerful undulations of the ocean. The wet sounds he made with his mouth inflamed her senses, and her hips began jerking urgently as she clutched his broad shoulders to pull him closer. She cried out in pleasure.
He drew back and wiped his wrist across his mouth. “I told you I had very specific talents.”
“You weren’t lying.” She spoke in a breathy sigh, wanting desperately to kiss his soft, wet lips.
But still he did not kiss her on the mouth. He rose to his full height, then narrowed his lust-filled eyes and toyed with a lock of her hair, while her insides burned with a mixture of desire and trepidation.
It was going to hurt. Melissa had warned her…
He wiggled his hips into place and rested a hand on her flat belly. It was the hand on which he wore the silver onyx, which she had thought about so many times when she was alone earlier, planning how she was going to seduce him. He ran a finger up between her breasts and touched the cleft of her chin.
“Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know my name?” he asked.
She shook her head. “That is part of the allure, I believe.”
“Perhaps it is part of the allure for me as well, not knowing who I am or what duties I carry. There is absolutely nothing to distract me tonight, while I am making love to you.”
She placed both her hands on his hips.
Inching closer to him, she closed her eyes.
She was surprised when he leaned forward and his mouth touched hers. The kiss was tender, but soon grew more passionate, as his lips parted and his tongue slipped into her mouth.
Chelsea cupped his head in her hands and kissed him deeply, overwhelmed by her desire to devour him. She had come here with a specific purpose in mind, but the only thing she cared about now was the complete fulfillment of her body’s desires. She wanted him with every measure of her womanhood, every thread of her existence, every wild, raw inkling of sensation.
Reaching down with a hand, he guided himself into position, and she prepared herself for the invasion into her body. She could barely think through the urgency of her desires. She’d never imagined the anticipation would be so deeply electrifying.
At last he began to push.
Held back by the resistance of her maidenhead, however, he paused, then pushed again, gently but firmly. She felt him enter partway, and squeezed her eyes shut at the pain.
He went still and rose up on both arms above her. His feet were still on the floor. “You’re a virgin.”
She nodded, and blinked a tear from her eye, for the pain had not abated. “Yes.”
“You told me you were ruined.”
“I am, in the eyes of the world.” She was finding it difficult to breathe.
“That is not the same thing, and you know it.”
“What does it matter?” she asked, feeling angry all of a sudden, not at him, but at the abrupt intrusion of reality, which disrupted her passions. “The man my mother wants me to marry does not expect a virgin. He expects the opposite.”
He paused, looking down at her, half inside her, breathing heavily, and squeezed his eyes shut. He seemed engaged in a battle with his conscience.
Please do not let him change his mind now, she silently pleaded. Not when I have come so far, and am so close to success…
“I thought you were depraved,” she reminded him. “You said you like depraved women.”
“Depraved women are not usually virgins,” he replied, holding very still. The moonlight shone on his face, illuminating a vein throbbing visibly at his forehead.
Thankfully, he seemed unable to completely control his desires, and with a slight groan pushed again, but only a small distance. Nevertheless, Chelsea winced at another burst of pain, for he was very thick.
Hesitating, he shook his head.
Not wanting him to stop now, she reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “You said you would be happy to oblige me. Keep in mind that the man I am marrying will not make me happy. It is not a future I have chosen for myself. So please, just give me this one night.”
He looked her in the eye. “I understand your need to defy your mother,” he said huskily, “because I know all about duty and responsibility. I don’t know why, but I do.”
“So you will give me this, then?”
Slowly and gently, he drove his hips forward the rest of the way, and broke through what remained of her maidenhead.
Chelsea arched her back and gasped at the final thrust of pain, which began to subside as soon as she was able to fully comprehend the slick sensation of his presence inside her. It was exquisite, erotic, and filled her with an even greater yearning she was desperate to fulfill.
He gave her a moment to become accustomed to his size, then began moving with firm, long strokes, plunging slowly at first, then faster, until an incomprehensible pressure flooded through her body and demanded release. She wrapped her legs around his hips and lifted hers in response, to pull him deeper inside. She drove up hard against each of his firm, powerful thrusts. Soon an astonishing frenzy of lust racked her body, and a tremendous orgasm shuddered through her, causing her to convulse and cry out.
He bent forward and covered her mouth with his own, silencing her cries, then put a hand to his wound.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No.” Then he groaned with both pleasure and pain, and drove hard with such force that he shoved her into the center of the bed and gave her what she had come for. She held him close and reeled with ecstasy at the wonderful, white-hot gush of his semen shooting mightily into her womb. Then at last she collapsed into a mind-numbing haze of total, incomprehensible bliss.