Now she fought him, catching him unawares, and throwing him
off her, rolling onto her back, hissing angrily, “Bastard! You’re no
angel but a devil! No more!”

Laughing, he pinned her down and kissed her until she couldn’t
breathe. Then he raised her legs and, drawing them over his shoul-
ders, buried his face between them. His tongue found her honey,
and he used her furiously until she came, his mouth forcing her
climax.

“Damn you! Damn you!” she cried, weeping in frustration for
she still was not satisfied.

“Look at me, my hot little bitch!”

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “No!”

“Look at me, Skye!”

At the cruel sharp note in his voice she opened her sapphire eyes
and looked into his green ones. “I’ve fallen in love with you, bitch,
and I’ll not take you like a whore.” He rubbed his big blue-veined
organ against her belly. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

“You’ll have it in good time, Skye. In fact… I’ll give it to you
now.” He spread her wide. “All of it, sweetheart!” He drove deeply,
enjoying her gasp, the incredulous look on her face.

He was huge and he filled her to overflowing, pushing upward
to touch at her very womb as he moved his great shaft skillfully,
drawing it nearly all the way out, then thrusting home again. For
a moment Skye thought she would be torn asunder, but her body
stretched to receive him, almost devouring him in her desperate
hunger. She clawed at his back and he caught her arms and pinioned
them above her head. She bit into his shoulder, drawing blood, then
licked furiously at the wound. He slapped her very lightly, cursing
softly at her sharp little teeth.

The pleasure and the pain mingled about and within her. She had
known great love, but never had she known such passion. It con-
sumed her, leaving room for nothing else. Onward he drove her,
and she reached peak after peak, believing each time that it was not
possible to go any further, yet cresting higher and higher. Behind
her closed eyelids the world exploded into a rainbow of shattered glass. She felt the contractions of an orgasm so great that she be-
lieved death was about to overtake her. Over and over and over
again her body shuddered with the force of her passion.

He had joined her in ecstasy, climax for climax, then slowly he
regained his senses and managed to roll off her body. For a moment
he could but stare at her. She was white and barely breathing. Sitting
up, he tenderly gathered her into his arms. She was cold and he
strove to warm her. No woman had ever driven him as far as she
had done. No woman had ever satisfied him as much as she, and
no woman had ever given of herself as fully as she.

Yes, he loved her. And de Grenville could keep his damned
barge. He had no intention of jeopardizing his love over an insane
bet. Why had he made the damned bet? If Dickon dared breathe a
word of their foolishness, he’d call him out.

She stirred in his arms, and slowly her beautiful blue eyes flut-
tered open again. She searched his face fearfully for a sign of
reassurance. He gently smoothed her tangled dark hair from her
forehead and said simply, “Don’t ever leave me, Skye.”

“I won’t, Geoffrey.”

For Geoffrey Southwood this was the first love he had felt since
his pretty, young mother had died in another futile attempt at child-
bearing, when Geoffrey was still quite young. His father’s only son,
Geoffrey had been born just ten months after his parents’ wedding
day. His mother next produced a daughter, Geoffrey’s only full
sister, Catherine, who was married now and living in Cornwall. His
stepmother had birthed his two half-sisters, one of whom was now
wed to a Worcestershire baron, the other to a wealthy Devon squire.
She had died, along with a stillborn son. His father had not married
again.

His father had been proud of Geoffrey, but had forbidden what
he considered soft treatment for his son. At seven, Geoffrey had left
his own home to grow up in the household of the Earl of Shrewsbury,
as his own son was now doing. He lived with half a dozen other
young nobles, learning manners, morals, politics, and the business
of being a great lord, but there was no room for love in that life.
It was three years before he saw his home again and then he was
allowed but a single month’s visit. Only his youngest half-sister,
Elizabeth, was still at home, the two older girls already having been
settled in other noble households to learn the business of becoming
successful wives and mothers. Though Beth had admired the elegant
and polished ten-year-old boy, young Geoffrey was far too puffed
up by his own importance to pay the little girl much attention.

The following year when he returned for his month, Beth was
gone. The next year he was twelve, and married the little heiress whose life had meant so little to Geoffrey and whose untimely death
left him wealthy in his own right. Both his mother and stepmother
had died. He scarcely knew his sisters, his father had flatly dis-
couraged affection, and his mousy, unimaginative wife was not to
his taste and never had been. This mysterious and beautiful woman
who lay by his side had given him more than any other person. It
was perhaps not so surprising, then, that he was falling in love with
her with an innocence extraordinary in a worldly man.

He wrapped an arm about her and she nestled close, her thoughts
beginning to reassemble. Her beloved Khalid had given her much
joy, but she admitted to herself that she had never known such
passion as this. It was frightening, yet it was magnificent. Their
bodies seemed to have been created expressly for one another.

That Geoffrey had wanted more than a one-night affair with her
had been obvious from the first. He said he loved her, and she was
beginning to believe it. Too, Skye was not foolish. She knew she
was a stranger in a country foreign to all she had known in Algiers.
And when Robbie left, as he soon would, she would be without a
man’s protection. Her business had to be run here, not from Devon.
If she intended staying in London then she must have a protector.

She should marry again, but after Khalid el Bey, who would suit
her? She was too exotic and, she believed, too well-born, to wed
with a mere London merchant. On the other hand, she was not
sufficiently high bom for a lord. Since Geoffrey was married, there
seemed only one course open to her. Though she shrank from it,
she knew she must take it. To cap the argument, there was also
Willow to think of.

It would not be so awful. Geoffrey was handsome, and in love
with her. He would treat her well, and since she need not rely on
him for financial support she would retain a great measure of in-
dependence. This would set her above other men’s mistresses. And
as his acknowledged mistress she would be safe from other men,
for no man in his right mind would dare approach the Earl of Lyn-
mouth’s woman!

Geoffrey’s breathing had become quite regular. How handsome
he was in sleep, very much the Angel Earl of his nickname once
sleep took the cynical and faintly arrogant look from his face. There
was an almost vulnerable look, though he was indeed a strong personality. She let her eyes wander from his face to his wide shoulders
and broad chest, down to his narrow waist and slim hips. His legs
were long, shapely, and covered with a fine pale golden down. His
feet were slender, high-arched, the nails neatly pared. Her eyes
wandered upward again to his sex, limp now and settled cozily in
its nest of soft blond hair. It looked so sweet and harmless now, yet a short while ago it had been a great, blue-veined beast driving her
to pleasures she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to reach out and
touch him.

“I trust it all meets with your approval, sweetheart.”

She started and color flooded her face. She gasped.

He chuckled, then opened his lime-colored eyes and, reaching
up, pulled her down into his arms. “So, witch, you were taking
inventory of me. I ask, does it meet with your approval?” Kissing
her ear, he ran his tongue around it, then thrust in and tickled her.

She squirmed, shivering deliciously. “Stop it, Geoffrey! Yes!
Yes! Your assets certainly do meet with my approval.”

He cupped a breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. “The Queen
will be resting for the next few days, so I am free. I want to take
you away somewhere and spend all my time making love to you.”

“Yes!” she replied, slightly surprised at herself.

He chuckled again. “How flattering you are, and how honest. I
approve, sweetheart. I know of an inn about half a day’s ride up the
river. It’s small and elegant, and the food is excellent. I am well
known to the landlord.”

“Do you take all your mistresses there?” she said more sharply
than she would have wished.

‘i have never taken any woman there,” he said softly, understanding her. “It is my own special place when I wish to escape the
trials of being who I am. I thought we would go there and see if,
after spending several days with me, you would like to become my
mistress. That way, if you decide against it, our liaison will remain
our secret. Though it would please me to shout our love to the world,
I would not embarrass you publicly.”

“Geoffrey. I am so sorry I spoke in haste. And I thank you for
being so considerate.”

“Sweetheart. I have had several mistresses in my day, but you’ve
been a wife. It’s hard for you, I know, to reconcile yourself to this
position.” He took her face in one hand and kissed her tenderly.
”God, you’ve got the sweetest mouth!”

She felt herself growing languid again and she leaned back. Sigh-
ing happily, her deep blue eyes warm, she said, “Damn you, Geof-
frey. What is it you do to me that one kiss renders me weak-and
wanton besides.”

“What do you do to me, Skye, that renders me insatiable?”

Quickly they were in each other’s arms again, their mouths and
tongues and hands devouring each other. Bodies entwined, they
kissed until their mouths were bruised and both were breathless.
Already aroused, his manhood beat against her thigh. Reaching
down, she caressed him with teasing fingers, reaching out to cup the soft pouch beneath his shaft, running a sure finger firmly beneath
it, hearing his gasp of surprised pleasure.

There was no excruciating waiting this time. She parted her thighs
easily and he slid into her warmth. Confident now, she tightened
her vaginal muscles about him as Yasmin had taught her. “Jesus!”
he cried out softly as the wave of pleasure overpowered him. He
drew back to thrust deeper yet, and again she tightened around him.
”Stop, witch!” he begged. “It’s the most delightful torture I’ve en-
dured, but stop before I die. I want to pleasure you, too!”

Her arms were tight about him and as she loosened her grip on
him he began to murmur softly to her, “Little witch, I knew that
beneath the ladylike demeanor there was a passionate wanton, Open
yourself to me, my darling. God, how warm and sweet you are!
How your little honey oven burns for me-pleasures me-loves me!”
He moved rhythmically with long, smooth strokes, each thrust seem-
ing to go deeper than the one before. She could feel herself opening
wide to receive him, taking him all, wanting even more. Oh, God,
she wanted more! Sobbing, she felt her climax bearing down on her
like a great wind, slamming into her with such force that she fainted,
hearing as she slid away into the dark warmth his cry of pleasure.

Her first awareness was the kisses he was covering her face with.
Dear God, she thought, that he can rouse me to such heights! She
opened her eyes and smiled tremulously at him, her eyes brilliant
with tears. He smiled back and ran a slim finger tenderly down her
nose. “You’ve bewitched me, my blue-eyed love. Tomorrow after-
noon we shall ride upriver to the Ducks and Drake. For several days
we shall do nothing other, than make love in a beautiful room that
overlooks the river, and eat and drink sweet wine. I shall bind you
to me so you’ll never want to leave me, sweetheart. Never!” His
mouth closed over hers again, kissing her deeply. Then he loosed
her and rose from the bed. He drew on his clothing quickly and
smiled down at her. “We had best keep our liaison a secret for now,
sweetheart.” His green eyes glittered. “Though you’ve probably not
made up your mind about me yet, I’ve made up my mind about you.
I mean to have you, sweetheart!” He bent again and placed a firm,
light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, my darling. I’ve no doubt
I’ve fair worn you out.” He walked across the room, lifted a tapestry
hanging on the wall, and pressed a panel. A door swung open.

Skye gasped. “Where,” she demanded, “does that passage lead?”

‘To my house,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Re-
member-my grandfather built this house for his mistress.”