Surrender (Mockingbird Square 3)

“It will help you to relax,” he said, and after a pause she took it.

He sipped his own. As if she couldn’t help it, her gaze slid over him. He was in his shirt sleeves, the neckcloth at his throat undone and showing a triangle of browned skin. His breeches clung to his thick thighs in a way she was sure Patrick’s never did. And he was watching her too. She could feel the nerves jumping under her skin. There were other feelings too, feelings unfamiliar to her. Her breasts felt heavy, sensitive, and there was an ache low in her belly. This wasn’t right, surely?

Lavinia swallowed and found her voice. “Should I?” she gestured at the bed, needing it to be over and done with so that she could become herself again. Because right now she felt very unlike Lady Lavinia Richmond.

Slowly he shook his head and there was something in his hooded eyes, a heat that caused her hands to tremble. She put the glass down in case she spilled the wine.

“No, not yet,” he said. “I want to undress you.” His gaze met hers. “If that is acceptable to you?”

Was it acceptable? She was no longer sure. The way he was looking at her made her want to turn and run, but her feet seemed to be fixed to the floor and she couldn’t move. Because at the same time she wanted to stay.

He unpinned her hair, allowing the heavy tresses to fall about her shoulders, and then he ran his fingers through them and pressed his nose to the silken strands. As if he wanted to familiarise himself with her scent. Still she stood, motionless and wary, not knowing what to do.

It will be just the once, she reminded herself. One time and then you can forget all about it.

Sebastian was kissing her neck, his lips trailing up to her jaw and then he took her mouth. It was as if a flash of molten heat poured into her. She gasped against his lips and felt him smile. He leaned back, still so close that she could barely breathe, and said, “Now I will undress you.”

He was practised with buttons and hooks and ribbons, although he seemed in no hurry. Leisurely he removed her gown and then her chemise, and then he looked at her. Awkwardly she waited for him to finish, to get to the reason they were here. Had he forgotten this was a business transaction between them? Perhaps he had, for the way he stared at her, as if she was a gift he had been waiting all his life to unwrap . . . it made her heart thump hard in her breast, like a caged bird trying to get out.

Sebastian reached out and brushed his fingers against the peak of her breast, and something in the tension in his jaw and around his eyes made her think he was enjoying this far too much. Her own eyes threatened to flutter closed but she forced them to remain open.

“Captain Longhurst, I think we should do what we came here to do.” Her voice was breathless.

He looked at her, his striking eyes smoky with what could only be desire. Whatever he saw in her face brought him to his senses—thank God! He stepped back from his ardour and she tried not to feel regret.

“Of course,” he said quietly. He began to undress himself, with the quick practised movements of a soldier.

She supposed she should turn her back but she didn’t seem able to. Her eyes were locked on him as he stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before. Hard and muscular, with a dusting of dark brown hair the same colour as that on his head. Her breath caught as he reached for the buttons on his breeches and undid them.

Suddenly what had seemed like a cold and impersonal transaction had become hot and sweaty and all very real.

He paused, as if sensing her discomfort. His breeches were loose about his hips but he hadn’t pulled them down yet. She swallowed and her eyes skittered away from the evidence of his desire. Silence, and then gently he reached out and took her hand in his. His fingers were calloused and warm, and she could feel the heat radiated

by his big body now so close to hers. And she could smell him—a masculine smell that was unfamiliar and yet she knew it. Craved it.

Her head was beginning to spin. This wasn’t how she had expected it to be.

“Come,” he said, his voice husky and deep, sending ripples over her naked skin, and led her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and she hastily climbed in. She drew them up to her chin and closed her eyes, like a frightened child, even as she asked herself what there was to be frightened of.

This is a mistake, a voice in her head warned her. She could leave now, dress herself hastily and tell him she had changed her mind. She could do that, she could, she . . .

The mattress dipped. He was lying on the other side, and again she felt the heat of his body. He didn’t move, as if he was waiting for her to grow accustomed to his presence. For what seemed an age but must only have been a few minutes they lay side by side, staring up at the canopy. She chewed on her lip, wondering where her icy reserve had gone and fighting to restore it. She could still leave, she told herself, but she had come this far.

It will be over soon, she soothed herself. All over.

That was when he turned to her, reaching out to slide his arm about her waist and roll her toward him, pulling her close. She had one glimpse of his blue eyes and rumpled hair, and then he began to kiss her.

His mouth on hers was warm, searching, discovering. She fell into the kiss as if he had cast a spell on her. The taste of him was . . . well she couldn’t get enough of him, it seemed, because now she was pressing closer. Then she realised that his kiss was distracting her from what his hands were doing, which was caressing her skin, cupping her breasts, where her nipples butted against his palms in a manner that seemed quite brazen and beyond her control.

His lips found her jaw, and then made their leisurely way down her neck, finding places that sent tingles through her body. There was a throb between her legs, and now his hand was skimming down over her stomach, as if seeking to assuage the ache. She tried not to stiffen in dismay and embarrassment, because she wanted him there, she wanted him with a hot and desperate need that had taken her completely by surprise.

His mouth distracted her again, returning to hers, and she heard herself make the most surprising sound. A moan. Startled, she would have pulled back, but he leaned over her, caging her in, and his fingers were trailing back and forth between her legs and the hair on his chest was abrading her sensitive breasts, and suddenly she was burning up so badly that she wondered if she might combust. Right here, right now, in bed with Sebastian Longhurst.

With a gasping cry she came halfway off the bed. It was only the second time she had felt that clenching of desire. Patrick had laughed the first time, as if he found her amusing, and she had made certain not to let it happen again. Not that it had been likely to. He was always so quick, so businesslike in their marital bed, as if he didn’t expect her to enjoy it. He took his own pleasure in a practical manner that left her as untouched as she had been on their wedding night.

Now, as she clawed back her scattered thoughts, she waited for Sebastian to finish and leave. But he didn’t. Instead he groaned as if the pleasure was only just beginning. His mouth was trailing down over her body, and then he was kissing her breasts, his tongue sliding back and forth over those rebellious nipples. He sucked them into his mouth and she felt the ache returning, and this time she knew what it foretold and the waiting was almost unbearable.

“I don’t think,” she began in a husky voice that didn’t sound like her at all.