Ian deliberately moved his hand to Clair's chest and began taking off her gown, which was crumpled around her waist. He hadn't gotten to important parts in his first round of lovemaking, such as the big one—nudity. Slipping the gown off her, he stared down in rapt fascination at the luscious bounty beneath him. Here was a feast fit for a king.
"If I am pregnant and that is a big if, then we'll cross that particular bridge when we come to it," Clair stated firmly, her eyes narrowing on Ian's playful fingers. They were now plucking at the nipples of her breasts. He was hoping to distract her, the bounder. She hoped he wouldn't stop.
"Marry me, Clair," Ian coaxed again as he began to nibble and suck on her breasts. He was getting distracted, and that wasn't good. Clair had to marry him, in spite of her indomitable spirit, which was apparently bred into the Frankenstein genes, and the sooner the better as far as he was concerned. There was no help for it. He would have to develop another bloody plan! For a military genius, his strategies were less than a stellar success around Clair. He was already on the third letter in the alphabet.
"Let's discuss it later, when we have all our clothes on," she said. Her body was heating up too fast. She squirmed.
"No. Now!" he commanded, reveling in the lush softness of plump, white breasts.
She moaned. He laughed.
Two can play at this game, Clair mused, taking his hot, hard arousal in her hand. He felt like smooth silk, his tip wet and glistening. She could barely close her fingers around it.
"Are all men this large? I know Frederick is enormous, but then Uncle Victor created him. Are their bollocks all this heavy?" Her curiosity was once again running amok.
Ian shifted slightly, beating his head against the ground in amused mortification. "Clair, my Clair, what am I to do with you?"
She grinned mischievously. "You could do that thrusting thing again with your hips. It drives me wild."
The look he gave her burned Clair to cinders. "It will be my pleasure," he replied. Then he was as good as his word. They both almost expired from it.
The Girl Who Cried Wolf
"Now that's what I'd call the house of a werewolf," Clair stated with conviction, her head bobbing outside the carriage window. She was scrutinizing Wolverton Manor, an imposing and sinister-looking structure of granite four stories in the air, the accumulation of several centuries' worth of architecture, gothic being predominate. Clair knew with one look that she had found the vampires' and werewolves' nefarious nest.
Ian sighed, glancing out the window at the massive structure high upon a grassy hill. He estimated they were still a good two miles away. He had tried to talk Clair out of the earl's house party, but to no avail. Since she refused to stay home, he'd refused to stay home. He couldn't just leave her to the wolves—or to the vampires, as the case might be. And no way was he letting his beloved travel to the earl's countryseat alone. Not with Asher on the prowl.
"Really, dear?" Lady Mary asked. She shifted on the soft leather seat and poked her head out the window. "How can you tell? It looks like a dozen other estates I have seen."
"I just can," Clair answered stubbornly. "This is the residence of the werewolf and his cohorts. This is the nest where he and his vampire cronies meet for plotting, blood-sharing, and orgies."
Ian rolled his eyes.
"My hypothesis won't be wrong this time," she snapped. Her pride and prejudice against the earl aside, all indicated Neil Asher was not what he seemed. Her sense and sensibilities all screamed that the earl was a supernatural creature. "It's even named Wolverton Hall. How much more blatant can one be?"
"Yes, dear," Lady Mary affirmed, her tone indicating her doubt. "But I do wonder…" she said, then stopped. Nothing riled her niece more than to have her theories debated.
"Yes?" Clair asked.
"Well, the Earl of Porkerston is not a pig."
Clair moaned. "Not pigs again." She would never, if she lived to a thousand, live that incident down.
"Calm down, Clair," Lady Mary cajoled, patting her niece's hand. "I just don't want you counting your werewolves before they're hatched, or whatever it is they do."
Ian gave a quiet snicker, and Clair shot him a cool glance then looked again at him in spite of herself. She couldn't help noticing his long shapely legs stretched out before him. The material of his doeskin breeches fit to perfection. Drat! She felt a delicious ache low in her belly.
Noticing Clair noticing him, Ian gave an almost imperceptible smile. It barely curved his mouth but caused tiny creases at the corners.
Turning her attention back to her aunt, Clair replied, "You and everyone else, it seems."
The carriage hit a large pothole, its sudden lurch throwing Clair practically into Ian's lap, while Lady Mary hung on to the carriage straps, barely keeping herself upright. Noting how Clair's back blocked her aunt's view, Ian playfully pinched Clair's breast, just to see her reaction.
She didn't disappoint him. She puckered up like a prune and gave him a heated glance that almost caused him blisters.
"Rake," she hissed.
Ian smiled smugly, leaning back against the carriage seat. She was adorable when she was in a huff. She was adorable when she was in her brown study. She was adorable naked. He crossed his legs, wondering if his arousal was conspicuous under his breeches. He hoped Lady Mary didn't notice the sudden bulge.
Clair was exasperated. Everywhere there were doubters. She wondered if Newton had faced this heavy problem when he kept telling everyone about apples and gravity. They had probably just told him to go bake a pie. Had Trevithic almost run out of steam before anyone accepted his locomotive run on the power of heated water? "I'm not wrong this time," she said again.
"Hmm," Lady Mary offered. "If you are right, then this party is probably a very dangerous idea." She shivered briefly, then smiled at Ian. "I am so glad you are here, Ian, to help protect us from the big bad wolf."
Hiding his amusement, Ian replied stoically, "My pleasure." Then he turned and grinned at Clair, hoping she was remembering their pleasures of the other night. She was. She blushed a becoming pink.
Bloody hell, he cursed silently. He was randy as a goat. Two tastes of the luscious Clair had not been enough—would never be enough. He had wanted to make love to her again, but commitments had kept him busy for the past two days.
"When is Galen coming?" Clair asked.
Ian shrugged. "He probably arrived at Wolverton Manor several hours ago, since he was on horseback."
Clair smiled. "I am glad your cousin could attend," she said.
Ian nodded, noting that Clair's aunt was wearing a smile of pure satisfaction, looking quite like the cat that swallowed the canary. He wondered at her smugness.
Lady Mary had been clandestinely watching the two youngsters all the way from London. She knew two lovebirds when she saw them. She smiled a secret smile. Oh, yes! Wedding bells would be ringing if she had her way. And it would be soon. She didn't want her niece to have a seven-month baby, something upon which gossipmongers would be sure to expound. She smiled her secret little smile again. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ian was too honorable to take Clair's virtue and not do right by her. And despite her niece's scientific bent and vows to remain single and pursue her supernatural studies, Clair was head over heels in love with the handsome baron. It was a coup de grâce.
How the other matchmaking mothers would turn pea green with envy! Yes, Lady Mary knew, her Plan A, To Catch a Baron, was running full steam ahead. She would definitely use her stuffed doves for an altarpiece at the wedding.