Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Tina tried to read his face, and he smiled a smile that made her heart turn over. “Show me,” she whispered. Slowly, his fingers still entwined with hers, he drew her toward him.

It seemed natural to kiss him, and when his hand brushed aside her robe and skimmed over the curve of her belly and down between her legs, she groaned into his mouth. She was hot and achy, and his fingers played with her, teasing another groan from her as they slid deep inside her slick body.

For a moment she lost herself in sensation, aware of nothing but his mouth on hers and his fingers inside her. Was this it? Was this what drove women like Lady Isabelle to madness? Well, no wonder . . .

“Touch me, too,” Richard said hoarsely, bringing her back to herself, and Tina didn’t need him to ask twice. Her hand reached down between them and pressed against him, eagerly exploring, and when she didn’t find that satisfactory, she unfastened his trousers and slipped her fingers inside, causing him to catch his breath.

He was big and hard, but with a velvety softness. She wanted to lick the tip of him, where she could feel a drop of moisture, but when she tried he jerked against her and pulled her away, his hands shaking as he held her upright. “My willpower is growing weaker by the moment,” he said.

“Good.”

He laughed breathlessly, then laid her down on the window seat, kneeling before her open thighs, and began to use his tongue on her in exactly the same way. The sensation was so exquisite. The pleasure building inside her rose like a bright light, and she almost touched the stars, but he stopped before she could reach them and lay down beside her.

“Touch me now,” he whispered against her ear, his fingers replacing his tongue. She could smell her own scent on him, and, somehow, that was exciting, too. His own touch between her legs grew more deliberate, stroking her, flicking the hard little bud so swollen and aching for attention. Tina could feel excitement building again, but she didn’t stop her own attentions to him, and he placed his hand over hers and taught her how to hold him, how to apply just the right pressure around his shaft.

Her lack of experience didn’t matter, they were both caught up in the heat and need of the moment, and when the pleasure lifted them high, they both cried out, mouths fusing, bodies rocking, as if they really were joined as one.

Chapter 26

“You did what?” The Captain’s voice rose in fury, and he only just managed to stifle the shout that would give away their meeting place in the garden at Arlington Hall. There was no one about, but he couldn’t take the risk.

“I held up their coach and took their blunt. A nice pearl necklace, too.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You robb

ed Sir Thomas and Lady Carol Smythe?”

Sutton rolled his eyes. “I rob lots of folk, Captain. It’s how we finance our little rebellion, remember?”

The Captain strode forward a few steps and then back again, hands clenched in fury at his sides. He felt as if he might do Sutton some serious violence, and he was capable of it. He always had been, but he had learned over the years to hide it behind his affable face.

“Bring it to me,” he said, “so I can return it.”

Sutton laughed as if he didn’t believe him. The Captain slapped his face, swinging the oaf’s head around with the power of the blow. Sutton put a hand to the reddening mark, his pale blue eyes full of hatred.

“You’ll regret that,” he said icily.

“I regret I can’t cut your head off so I don’t have to look at your stupid face anymore. Now do as I say.”

Sutton slunk off through the shrubs and down to the river, where he’d moored his boat. The Captain waited a moment, trying to still the fury in his heart. He seemed to be surrounded by fools. It wasn’t like that in the early days—then they’d all been fired by righteous zeal—but something had changed. Sometimes he wondered whether they would ever succeed. Well, when Sir Henry’s fate was clear, he would be able to plan his next step. He had no fears about the interview with Will Jackson in the morning—he’d shot no one—but there was still Branson.

The Captain yawned. He needed to sleep, to keep a clear head. He began to make his way back to the house, lighting up another cigar as he went.

“Hush, they will hear us,” Archie whispered, as he drew Maria deeper into the garden, tugging her along by her hand as she tried not to giggle.

They had arranged to meet at midnight, sneaking from their separate quarters and into the moonlit night. Maria found her heart beating with excitement and more, a desire she had not felt in a very long time. It was almost as strong as her desire for home, and suddenly she was afraid that Archie would become more important to her, that she would wake up one day and feel trapped.

“What is it?”

He’d sensed her unease.

They were at the river now, and dark and smooth, it flowed past them. A fish jumped and vanished again beneath the surface with barely a ripple.

“Maria?”

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He waited a moment more, then sat down on the path and began to take off his shoes and stockings. Maria watched in bemusement and when he removed his jacket and began to pull his shirt over his head, she realized what he was intending and laughed.