Читать книгу His Scandalous Mistress: The Master's Mistress / Count Toussaint's Pregnant Mistress / Castellano's Mistress of Revenge - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 11

‘WHERE are you off to so early in the morning?’

Elizabeth had almost reached the bottom of the stairs, the rucksack containing her costume and towel draped over one shoulder, when she heard Rogan’s voice behind her and turned to see him standing on the wide gallery above, looking down at her.

As he said, it was still early in the morning—only a little after seven o’clock—but, like her, Rogan was already up and dressed, his T-shirt once again black, as were his jeans, the dark length of his hair slightly damp, probably from the shower.

As usual, Elizabeth was instantly, nerve-janglingly aware of him…

She maintained her cool expression with effort. ‘I like to go for a swim first thing in the morning.’

She felt even more in need of a wake-up swim today, after the conversation about her father at dinner the previous evening had brought back all those unhappy memories and caused her to have an almost sleepless night.

Rogan scowled darkly. ‘Where?’

‘At my health club when I’m in London, but here I make do with the sea.’ The sea water wasn’t doing much for her complexion or her hair, but Elizabeth had always enjoyed swimming as a way of kick-starting her day, and saw no reason to change that routine when she could so easily walk down to the sandy cove below the cliffs.

Rogan looked at her speculatively. ‘And my guess is you’ve been doing that every morning since you came here,’ he said.

Elizabeth’s brows rose. ‘Of course.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes… ’

‘Without informing anyone where you were going?’ His voice had become dangerously soft.

‘Rogan—’

‘Hell’s bells, woman, are you stupid or do you just have a death wish?’ Rogan rasped impatiently as he descended the stairs two at a time until he was standing beside her, glaring down at her.

Elizabeth had to tilt her head back slightly in order to meet that glittering gaze head-on. ‘As far as I’m aware I’m neither of those things. I simply like to swim first thing in the morning—’

‘In a sea where the current is precarious at best and downright dangerous at worst!’ Angry heat emanated from Rogan’s body, and his hands were clenched at his sides.

Elizabeth frowned. ‘I assure you, I’m always very careful.’

‘This is Cornwall, Elizabeth,’ he snapped. ‘The worst place on the south coast for shipwrecks and drowning. There’s no such thing as being very careful!’

‘Rogan—’

‘Don’t even attempt to use that patronising tone on me,’ he bit out tersely. ‘I’m not one of your students, and I don’t scare easily!’

Elizabeth doubted she could teach this man anything! As for the scared part—in his present mood, Rogan was the scary one!

Her mouth firmed. ‘Look—’

‘No—you look,’ he retorted. ‘Either you change your plans and don’t go swimming. Or I come with you to make sure you don’t drown.’

Elizabeth’s chin rose challengingly even as the thought of seeing all Rogan’s muscled power in only a pair of swimming trunks made her pulse quicken. Just having him standing this close to her made her pulse quicken! ‘You may be in the habit of ordering other people around, but you certainly can’t dictate what I do.’

‘I can stop you swimming in what happens to be a private family cove. My private cove now,’ he returned calmly.

Yes, no doubt he could do that… ‘I’m twenty-eight years old and perfectly capable of deciding for myself what is and isn’t dangerous.’

‘My mother was forty-two years old—but that didn’t stop her from drowning in the cove you’re now proposing to swim in alone!’A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

Too late Elizabeth remembered that Rogan’s mother had died by falling—jumping?—from the cliffs into the Cornish sea. She just hadn’t realised it was the cliffs above the same family-owned cove she swam in every morning…

She grimaced. ‘I’m sorry, Rogan, I wasn’t thinking when I said that—’

‘Save your platitudes for someone who appreciates them,’ he cut in coldly. ‘Are you giving up the idea of swimming this morning, or do I have to come with you?’

‘You’re really serious about this?’ she said doubtfully.

‘There’s a time and a place for humour, Elizabeth, and this isn’t one of them!’ Rogan assured her grimly. Just the thought of Elizabeth’s broken and lifeless body being washed up on the beach by the tide made his blood run cold.

Quickly followed by a surge of heat through his whole body at the thought of seeing her swimming in a skimpy bikini. All that lithe loveliness, and those gloriously shapely legs… !

‘I either come with you, Elizabeth,’ he insisted, ‘or you don’t go. It’s up to you.’ He folded his arms belligerently across his chest.

She grimaced. ‘Not much of a choice, is it?’

Rogan didn’t even bother to answer as he studied her through narrowed lids. Elizabeth looked tired this morning. Her face was pale, and there were dark shadows beneath those sky-blue eyes.

She had been very quiet last night, almost introspective, following their conversation about her father. But, as Rogan’s own thoughts had been far from pleasant, he hadn’t been in the mood at the time to even attempt to goad her into further conversation.

Once again he had told himself that Elizabeth Brown was most definitely not his type. She was too prim, too controlled, too serious—and, worst of all, beneath that frosty exterior he now knew that her emotions were too fragile.

His brain knew and accepted that. His body was still less than convinced!

‘Okay,’ Elizabeth conceded with a sigh. ‘But I don’t go down to the beach to dip my feet in the shallow water. I swim for exercise, not fun.’

Rogan grinned. ‘Think I can’t keep up with you?’

No, Elizabeth was pretty sure that he could keep up with her in almost anything. That was the problem. He was the problem.

He infuriated her. He challenged her. Most of all, he disturbed her…

Her mouth firmed. ‘I’ll wait here for you while you go and get your towel and trunks.’

His grin widened. ‘No skinny-dipping, then?’

Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Sorry to dash your hopes,’ Elizabeth said dryly.

‘C’est la vie.’ He shrugged unconcernedly. ‘I’ll be one minute,’ he promised, before turning to ascend the stairs two at a time.

One minute was nowhere near long enough for Elizabeth to collect her marauding thoughts. Especially the one where she imagined Rogan as the one swimming naked…

Rogan watched from beneath lowered lids as Elizabeth sat down on the golden sand a short distance away to pull her T-shirt over her head before peeling her jeans down the silky length of her legs, revealing that she wasn’t wearing the bikini of his imagination, after all, but a plain black one-piece sports costume.

A plain black one-piece sports costume that, as Elizabeth rose fluidly to her feet, was surprisingly more sexy than any bikini could ever have been as it clung to the firm swell of her breasts, narrow waist and slender hips above those deliciously shapely legs…

Rogan felt his temperature and other things rise just looking up at her. Hell, this woman was so sexy she was totally destroying his normally unshakeable self-control!

A dip in the ice-cold sea was exactly what Rogan needed to ease the throb of desire that was threatening to send him over the edge. Although at the moment, with his body so obviously aroused, standing up could be something of a problem!

Elizabeth gave him a puzzled glance. ‘Have you decided the sea looks too cold to come in, after all?’

He raised dark brows. ‘Is that a challenge, Dr Brown?’

‘Could be, Dr Sullivan. Or is that Lieutenant?’ She arched auburn brows.

Actually, it had been Captain… ‘It’s just plain Mr nowadays,’ he confirmed dryly, before turning away to pull the black T-shirt over his head.

My God! There was no way Elizabeth was able to hide her gasp of horror as she saw the scars that marred the muscled strength of Rogan’s torso.

There were several long puckered scars on the long length of his back that looked as if they might have been made by either a knife or a whip. But it was the ones on the front of his body that caused her the most alarm. Three perfect, tiny scars that were obviously bullet holes—one in his stomach, another in his left shoulder, and another just above his heart!

‘Rogan?’ Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed on those scars as she fell down onto the sand beside him, raising an involuntary hand so that her fingers almost touched them. ‘What happened to you?’ she breathed shakily.

‘Obviously, I was shot.’ He gave a hard and humourless smile. ‘It happens when you’re a soldier, Elizabeth.’ He gave a dismissive shrug.

She gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head, a sick feeling in her stomach as she continued to stare at those scars. As she imagined the bullets ripping into Rogan’s flesh!

Flesh Elizabeth could no longer stop herself from touching as her fingertips moved tentatively over the scar above his heart, feeling the hard ridge of skin that had healed over what had obviously been a life-threatening wound.

She moistened dry lips. ‘I—How long ago… ?’

‘I left the army five years ago.’

She shook her head. ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

Rogan sighed. ‘You should know by now that I don’t like answering questions.’

Elizabeth swallowed hard as she looked up at him searchingly. ‘Is that why someone shot you? Because you refused to answer their questions?’

He moved away from her impatiently to stand up, his expression grim as he unsnapped and took off his own jeans before dropping them on the sand beside his T-shirt.

Elizabeth made no effort to get to her feet when she saw there were yet more scars on his upper thighs. ‘Rogan—’

‘You know, most women find my battle scars a turn-on,’ he said cynically as he looked down at her.

Those blue eyes snapped with impatience. ‘Women who perhaps don’t have an imagination that allows them to realise the pain you must have suffered.’

‘This conversation is over,’ Rogan snapped coldly.

‘You could have died—’

‘But I didn’t.’

‘Rogan—’

‘Give it up, Elizabeth,’ he growled with finality. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to those flat rocks at the mouth of the cove!’ He attempted to distract her as he threw his sunglasses down on his towel and ran across the sandy beach to the water’s edge, before turning to see if Elizabeth had taken him up on the challenge.

She was only a couple of paces behind him, those blue eyes glittering determinedly and her cheeks pink and glowing. ‘The conversation isn’t over, Rogan.’

‘It is if I say it is,’ he insisted.

Their gazes continued a silent battle for several long seconds, before Elizabeth finally gave a terse nod. ‘Last one to the rocks has to carry both rucksacks back up the cliff to the house!’she shouted in challenge, and she streaked past him to dive smoothly into the virtually calm sea and start swimming.

Rogan remained on the beach watching her, her strokes smooth and powerful as she set off towards the rocks half a mile or so away. He wasn’t in the least surprised that Elizabeth swam as she did everything else: with capable efficiency.

That same capable efficiency that had told her Rogan’s wounds hadn’t been inflicted in any normal combat…

‘What are you? Olympic level?’ Elizabeth was panting hard as she drew herself up onto the flat rock before collapsing beside Rogan. She had barely swum half the distance to the rocks before Rogan had overtaken her, and he had been sitting here for several seconds watching through narrowed lids as she completed her swim.

Elizabeth now studied him from beneath her own lowered lashes…

Wet, Rogan’s hair was black and silky where it rested long and damp on his shoulders. Water glistened on his deeply tanned scarred body, and the dark hair on his chest tapered down until it disappeared beneath a pair of black boxer-style swimming trunks that clung revealingly to his hips and thighs.

The ragged heaviness of Elizabeth’s breathing was suddenly no longer due to the exertion of her swim!

‘Not quite Olympic level,’ he answered, with a shrug of those broad shoulders.

Elizabeth eyed him ruefully. ‘Just another one of those “useful” skills you learnt in the army?’

His mouth thinned. ‘Yes.’

‘You weren’t just another soldier, were you?’ she asked slowly, knowing that the skills Rogan had so far shown didn’t quite match up to that role.

The scars she could see on his body had only confirmed her suspicions.

He had lowered his lids over the darkness of his gaze. ‘I told you, I’m not going to talk about this any more today, Elizabeth.’

‘Or ever?’

‘Or ever,’ he confirmed.

‘Because, as you said, you would have to kill me if you did? Or because you just don’t want to?’

He turned to stare out across the ocean. ‘Maybe both… ’

‘Maybe?’

His eyes were hard as onyx as he turned back to look at her.

‘Why the interest, Elizabeth?’

Her eyes widened at the accusation in his tone. ‘You don’t imagine that I’m trying to get information out of you for the other side, do you?’

Rogan gave a hard, humourless laugh. ‘Who is “the other side” nowadays, Elizabeth? I don’t know, and I’m pretty sure no one else does any more, either.’

‘In other words, it could very well be the woman lying beside you… ’ Elizabeth said thoughtfully.

He gave her a sideways glance. ‘Is it?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’She sat up to express her indignation.

‘Is that what I’m being?’ Rogan mused. ‘Ridiculous? What did my father know about you when he hired you? Come to that, what do I know about you?’

She glared at him. ‘That I live in London. That I teach History at a university there.’

‘Those are only the obvious facts, Elizabeth,’ Rogan pointed out wryly. ‘Who are your associates? Your friends? What are your political leanings?’

‘I don’t have any political leanings—all politicians are as bad as one another, from what I can tell,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And my associates are highly qualified people as dedicated to teaching as I am.’

‘And your friends… ?’

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably under the sudden intensity of that dark gaze. ‘I have a couple of female friends from school that I keep in touch with… ’

‘What about men?’ Rogan probed softly. ‘Who do you sleep with? Share pillow-talk with?’

‘Pillow-talk?’ she echoed breathlessly.

‘If you prefer it, post-coital conversation,’ Rogan drawled.

‘I don’t!’ Elizabeth said frowningly.

Rogan turned so that he was now lying only inches away from Elizabeth, their thighs almost touching. ‘You don’t prefer it, or you don’t engage in post-coital conversation?’

‘Both!’ In spite of the coolness of the early-morning air, Elizabeth suddenly felt very warm. Because of Rogan’s close proximity? Or the intimacy of their conversation?

‘Is the latter because you don’t have a man sharing your bed at the moment, or do you just prefer not to talk after sex?’

Her cheeks burned. ‘Stop interrogating me, Rogan!’

‘Believe me, it’s preferable to what I really want to do!’

Elizabeth’s gaze avoided Rogan’s as she saw the heat that had suddenly entered those dark, caressing eyes. Instantly making her aware of how her breasts were clearly outlined by the clinging material of her black costume, the nipples pebble-hard and aching!

She moistened salty lips. ‘It’s probably time we were going back now—Rogan?’ Her gaze was raised to his in alarm as he reached out to curve his hand about the nape of her neck. ‘Rogan!’But she could only protest half-heartedly as that hand tightened and he began to draw her inexorably closer to him.

Elizabeth couldn’t move, felt totally captivated by the intensity of his eyes as his gaze so easily held hers. Her lips were already moist and parted as his mouth claimed hers. First gently, searchingly. Then hungrily as he opened her lips even further at the same time as he pulled her into his heat and curved her body into his much harder one.

Her response was instant. Spectacularly out of control, and her hands moved up his chest and she clung to those wide muscled shoulders as Rogan’s lips continued to devour and claim hers.

She didn’t have the will-power to protest as Rogan lowered her back down onto the flatness of the rock, was too lost in pleasure as they kissed with lips, tongues and teeth. Fiercely. Hungrily. Elizabeth’s hands moved restlessly across Rogan’s back, tracing and caressing each and every scar in a way that seemed to increase the hunger of his mouth as it moved passionately over hers.

His hands moved to curve about the firm thrust of her breasts, the soft pad of his thumbs tracing the outline of her hardened nipples, the elusiveness of those near caresses sending rivers of expectation, pleasure, pooling between Elizabeth’s thighs.

She wanted—Oh, God, she wanted… !

She broke the kiss to gasp. ‘Please, Rogan… !’ And that gasp became a shuddering cry as he lowered his head to claim the fiery tip through the material of her costume, drawing the nipple into the heat of his mouth and laving it with the rasp of his tongue…

There was so little clothing between them, only the thin material of their bathing costumes, but it was still too much as far as Rogan was concerned. He wanted to see, to touch, to kiss every silken inch of Elizabeth’s bare flesh.

He moved his mouth reluctantly from her breast so that he could move back slightly, his dark gaze resting briefly on her flushed face before he glanced down to watch as he drew both straps of her costume slowly down her arms, pulling the material down even further so that he could bare her breasts, full and lush, the nipples a deep rose-pink, perfect in their arousal.

The skin of his hands looked dark against the pale creaminess of her flesh as he sat up to cup the fullness of both breasts, claiming those nipples to roll them, gently squeeze them between thumb and finger. Rogan felt his thighs throb in the same pleasurable rhythm as Elizabeth half sat up, her hands resting back against the rock as she thrust her breasts forward in silent offering.

Rogan groaned his satisfaction as he moved to kneel between her parted legs, and then bent his head to take one delicious-tasting nipple into his mouth even while his hand continued to lavish attention on its twin.

She was so responsive, and Rogan couldn’t get enough of her as he turned his head to pay attention to her other nipple, licking, biting, sucking, pleasuring her until Elizabeth writhed against him, her breasts jutting higher so that he could draw her even further into his mouth.

His erection was thick and hard, pulsing with need, and Rogan was almost losing control just at the thought of having Elizabeth’s lips on him, about him, in that intimate way.

He was breathing hard as he finally raised his head. ‘Touch me, Elizabeth. For God’s sake, touch me!’

Elizabeth immediately obeyed his plea, moving a caressing hand down the tautness of his muscled abdomen until she could cup the hardness between his thighs, instantly feeling the way his arousal, so long and thick, leapt eagerly, hotly, against her hand.

Rogan reached between them to push his trunks down his hips and thighs and throw them aside, his arousal jutting forward eagerly as Elizabeth’s fingers closed about him and the soft pad of her thumb touched and stroked him until he hardened even further.

Elizabeth moaned softly at this physical evidence of Rogan’s arousal. He was steel encased in velvet, the blood pulsing fiercely, hotly, as he swelled beneath her questing hand.

Her own body was wound so tight she felt as if there was a coiled spring inside waiting for release, and she offered no resistance when Rogan reached between them once again, this time to pull her costume down even further, over her thighs and hips, until he had discarded it completely.

Elizabeth’s legs parted invitingly and she continued to touch and caress Rogan as he thrust rhythmically into her encircling fingers.

‘It’ll all be over if you don’t stop now!’ he groaned, and he reached down to remove her hand, instead nudging her legs apart so that he could move up onto his knees between them to look down at her nakedness.

Elizabeth moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her hips rising in invitation as her gaze remained riveted on the jutting hardness between Rogan’s muscled thighs.

She cried out, her startled gaze rising to Rogan as she felt his hand glide smoothly along her inner thigh. She could see the dark passion in Rogan’s eyes as he looked down at her bared thighs, knowing by the wild gleam in them, and the flush beneath his hard cheekbones, how aroused that made him feel.

Elizabeth cried out again as he touched lightly between her thighs. She was so swollen there, so aching and aroused that she knew herself to be balanced on the very edge of climax.

Rogan’s gaze was hot, scorching, as he felt Elizabeth’s instant response when he slowly parted the silky auburn curls, baring that pulsing nub. He used one finger to lightly stroke around, above and below that arousal, without quite touching it, drawing out Elizabeth’s pleasure as she groaned and whimpered and writhed her hips in search of that caressing finger.

Rogan pushed her legs even wider apart so that he might caress her lower still, instantly feeling how she opened for him as he stroked the swollen entrance and found her hot and slick with need, her hips arching upwards in a plea for release.

A soft scream escaped her parted lips as Rogan dipped the tip of his finger inside her wet and creamy tightness, her muscles convulsing greedily about him, the soft panting of her breath telling him how very close she was to exploding.

‘Not yet, Elizabeth!’ Rogan slowly withdrew his finger to resume his playful caresses. Around. Above. Below. Never quite touching…

He continued those tantalising caresses even as he lowered his head to her bared breast, once again drawing hungrily on her nipple, groaning low in his throat as he felt Elizabeth’s hands become entangled in his hair as she held him to her.

‘Please, Rogan!’ she cried out restlessly, desperately, as her fingers tightened painfully in his hair. ‘Please… !’

‘Say it again, Elizabeth,’ Rogan groaned against the moist heat of her nipple. ‘Say my name, damn it!’

‘Rogue… ?’ she breathed raggedly.

‘Yes!’ he rasped. ‘Say it, Beth. Say it!’

‘Rogue, Rogue, Rogue… !’ Her cries became a gasping litany as Rogan kissed his way slowly down the flatness of her stomach, over the smoothness of her hips, until he reached those damp, fiery curls between her legs, when that cry became another scream as he placed his lips about her and then stroked his skilled tongue against the throbbing centre of her desire.

Elizabeth arched up to that stroking tongue as ecstasy ripped through every part of her, threatening to shatter her into a million pieces. Her muscles convulsed in an endless release as Rogan continued to pleasure her, until Elizabeth finally collapsed back weakly, completely sated.

The moment the coldness of the rock touched Elizabeth’s back, she was brought back to the reality of where she was, who she was with, and what had just happened.

‘I’ve always found regret to be a wasted emotion,’ Rogan murmured dryly some minutes later, when Elizabeth made no effort to lower the arm she had draped over the top of her face.

As if not being able to see him would make all that had just happened go away!

Which was pretty ridiculous when they were both still completely naked…

Rogan moved up to lean on his elbow, looking down at her. Her breasts were slightly red from the rasp of his early-morning stubble, the nipples still engorged and dusky pink from the ministration of his lips and tongue, and those fiery curls between her legs were damp from her recent release.

He drew in a shaky breath. ‘Beth—’

‘I don’t want to talk about this now!’ Elizabeth snapped fiercely, lowering her arm so that she could glare up at him.

‘Or ever?’ he guessed ruefully.

‘Or ever!’ Elizabeth echoed as she sat up to look for her discarded bathing costume. It lay some distance away on the rock, tangled into a wet, unappealing ball.

Dear God… !

What had happened to her just now? How could she have allowed herself to completely unravel in Rogan’s arms like that?

How could she have been so foolish!

‘I like your hair all soft like this—’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Elizabeth flinched back as Rogan would have reached out and touched the silkiness of her recently dried hair.

Rogan’s eyes darkened angrily as his arm dropped back to his side. ‘You didn’t seem to object a few minutes ago when I touched you!’

Colour burned Elizabeth’s cheeks as she remembered all too clearly the shameful way she had pleaded for his touch. She’d been so aroused, so aching, so desperate for release as she urged Rogan to give her what she needed…

Something he had done beyond her wildest imaginings!

She swallowed hard, her gaze no longer meeting his. ‘I must have been out of my mind.’

‘Oh, you were,’ Rogan said pointedly. ‘Completely and wildly out of your mind.’

Her eyes shot furious sparks at him. ‘Do you have to sound so—so damned triumphant?’

He gave an unrepentant shrug. ‘It’s a natural reaction in a man when he knows he’s just given his woman pleasure.’

‘I’m not your woman,’ Elizabeth gasped incredulously.

‘Just say the word and you could be,’ Rogan drawled softly, having no idea how he would handle having someone like Elizabeth in his life, but knowing that giving this woman pleasure once hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy his own appetite for her. He wanted to make love to her again. And again. And have her make love to him, too…

The throb of his thighs ached all over again just at the thought of having the fullness of her lips about him, her tiny tongue lapping the length of him…

‘For how long?’ she came back challengingly.

Rogan shrugged. ‘For as long as it lasted.’

‘“It” being a purely sexual relationship?’

‘Of course.’

Elizabeth gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘I have absolutely no wish to become the latest woman in what I have no doubt is the very long line of your conquests!’ She spat the words at him as though he’d just mortally insulted her.

The coldness of her rejection was like a slap in the face after Rogan’s imaginings. In which, knowing how much a woman like Elizabeth didn’t belong in his world, he had wanted to take her there anyway.…

‘Didn’t my lovemaking measure up to the “dark predator” in your book?’ he taunted sarcastically.

Colour heated Elizabeth’s cheeks at this reference to the book she had been reading the night Rogan arrived. After the way she had responded to him how could he even suggest that his lovemaking hadn’t measured up? Making love with him had been beyond anything Elizabeth could ever have imagined it to be.

‘I’m going back to the house now,’ she bit out abruptly. ‘Try not to get cut off by the tide, won’t you?’ she added with false sweetness as she rose to her feet, grabbing up her costume and holding it in front of her nakedness as Rogan made no effort to hide his admiring glance.

Rogan had no chance to make any reply as he watched Elizabeth walk away.

He sighed heavily as he fell back onto the rock, its coldness acting as a balm to the ache in his loins as he stared up at the cloudless sky.

Elizabeth obviously wanted to forget what had happened, but there was no way Rogan would ever be able to forget the way Elizabeth had caught fire in his arms just now. Her ready response to the caress of his mouth and hands on her body. The tremors of her shuddering release.

Even if he wanted to, there was no way Rogan could ever forget any of that…