To Love a Scoundrel (Zebra Historical Romance) (22 page)

She turned to face him, both her palms pressed flat
against the hard planes of his chest, and pressed her lips
against his. "This," she said. "And this." Imitating just
what he'd done to her before, she trailed her lips down
to his throat, inhaling his clean, woodsy scent as she did
so. His skin was hot against her lips, slightly salty. Just
as she had imagined it would be, all these years.

Frederick groaned against her ear, doing his best to
tamp down his lust. Devil take it, but she was going to
be the death of him yet. "You're playing a dangerous
game, Eleanor Ashton. Don't begin something you do
not plan to finish." In one sharp movement he pulled off
his untied cravat and tossed it to the floor, then deftly
unbuttoned the top few buttons of his linen. Just as he'd
hoped, her sweet lips followed suit, trailing kisses in the
wake of his fingers, down the hollow at the base of his throat and to his breastbone. "You're an apt pupil," he
murmured, brushing her hair back from her flushed
cheeks. "Just as I imagined you'd be ""

The soft, wet kisses stopped and her gaze flew up to
meet his, her blue eyes round with curiosity. "Is that so?
And what else did you imagine about me?"

"Oh, you've no idea the extent of it." He reached for
the shiny buttons on her overcoat and began unbuttoning them, one by one till the fabric fell away, allowing
her to shrug out of the sleeves and drop the garment to
the floor. The bared swell of her bosom rose and fell on
rapid breaths, her creamy skin flushed a delicate rose.
Only her thin muslin gown now concealed her delicious
curves, and damn it, but he wanted her out of that gown.

All rational thought seemed to flee him and instinct
took over as he scooped her up in his arms and carried
her to the bed, laying her down gently on the coverlet.
Her rich, ebony hair fanned out behind her, just begging
him to tangle his fingers in it as he laid down beside her,
capturing her mouth once more with his own.

The fire behind him hissed and spat as he moved his
mouth lower, tugging down the sleeves of her gown as
he did so, revealing the gentle slope of her shoulders.
Lower still his mouth moved, to the swell of her breasts,
his fingers continuing to tug down the fabric of her
bodice. Eleanor arched her back in reply, mewling
softly like a kitten, her fingers clutching the coverlet beneath her.

His cock throbbed impatiently, desperate for release,
and all he could think of was plunging himself into her,
losing himself in her for all eternity.

With a groan, he gave her bodice one more tug, at last
revealing the breasts he'd dreamt of so many nights now.
Perfect, just as he'd imagined them. He captured one pale pink nipple in his mouth, suckling gently, making
her, squirm beneath him.

"Have you any idea how badly I want you, Eleanor?"
he murmured against her skin, his hands slipping beneath
her, moving toward the fastenings on the back of her
gown. Must get her out of this thing. Suddenly he could
think of nothing else-it became his silent mantra. One
fastening gave beneath his fingers, then another. Satiny
skin, warm and flushed beneath his hand, sent the blood
rushing to his groin. A marquess daughter An innocent.
A virgin. The unwelcome thoughts came crashing through
his consciousness, and suddenly he knew he needed her
permission-he needed to hear her speak the words.

He dragged his mouth away from her neck. "Tell me
what you want, Eleanor," he asked, his voice rough.
"Say it.,,

"I want you to kiss me, Frederick," she answered, her
voice a husky whisper.

He wasted no time in complying.

At last he pulled away, breathless, his gaze seeking
hers. Their eyes met and held, hers registering fear, confusion.

"What else, love?" he whispered, brushing a soft kiss
across her forehead. "I cannot ravish you against your
will. You must say the words; tell me what you want
from me."

She shook her head, her dark locks falling freely
across her shoulders. "I ... I cannot. I fear we've done
far too much as it is, Frederick"

"So much more I'd like to do," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

She struggled to sit, and Frederick groaned aloud as
she tugged her bodice up to its rightful place. "First we
must decide what's to be done"

"Must we? Now? Have you any idea how I've longed to have you in my arms like this? Would you really be
so cruel as to deny me now?" He kept his tone light,
teasing. Must not frighten her Not now, not when he'd
come so very close to securing his prize.

"Come now, am I the first to deny you so?" she returned playfully. "That which does not kill us only
makes us stronger, isn't that what they say?"

He fell back to the mattress with a growl of frustration. "Damnation, but my grandfather used to say that"

She moved to lean over him, her breath warm and
sweet against his neck. "But you can kiss me again,
Frederick. I vow, call me a wanton if you may, but I
cannot get enough of your kisses."

Propping himself up on one elbow, he brought his lips
within an inch of hers, then stopped. For a moment he
regarded her, her eyes closed, her head tipped back expectantly. "Allow me to make certain I'm understanding
you correctly. You are requesting my kiss, are you not?"

"Yes," she murmured, opening her eyes and meeting
his gaze. "Would you really be so cruel as to deny me
now?"

"Let me consider the situation. Hmmm" He nipped
at her ear, then trailed his lips down the side of her neck.
"So you are indeed requesting my kiss, but are you begging for it?"

"A lady never begs," she countered near breathlessly.

"Oh, but you will." He teased her lips with his own,
brushing them ever so gently and then retreating again.
"Not that I've overmuch experience with ladies."

"You're nothing but a scoundrel," she answered with
a smile.

"Indeed. And you're desperate for a scoundrel's kiss."

"Oh, very well, if there's no other way. I beg you to
kiss me, then, Frederick. Will that do?"

"That'll do nicely," he growled, then captured her
eager mouth with his own.

Minutes later, he pulled away, knowing that his
tightly held control was surely slipping away. "You do
realize I win the wager, don't you?" he teased, tapping
her lightly on the nose.

He heard her sharp intake of breath. "Whatever do
you mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Remember that day in Henley's park? I wagered that
you would beg for my kiss before the year was out. You
owe me one hundred pounds, if I remember correctly."

The color drained from her face in an instant, and she
struggled to stand, her entire body trembling. "Dear
lord, that's it, then. You brought me here to win a wager.
What a terrible, terrible fool I am!"

"Don't be ridiculous, love" He reached for her hand,
but she snatched it away, taking two steps away from the
bed.

"However could I fall for it, not once, but twice
now?"

"You cannot possibly believe that this," he sputtered,
"all this, was simply an act to win a wager?"

"You just said yourself-"

"Good God," he interrupted, his anger mounting. "I
said it in jest. Do you really think me capable of such a
deception as that?"

"Yes ... no," she corrected. "Truly, I've no idea what
you're capable of" She hurried to retrieve her pelisse,
roughly shoving her arms into the sleeves. "I want to believe it is not so, but I cannot be certain. Can't you understand?"

"No, Eleanor, I cannot" He stood and crossed the
room, standing before her with his arms folded across
his chest. "Two minutes ago you were lying here beside
me, trusting me, letting me touch you intimately. Now you doubt my word? I confess, I'm finding your
vacillation tiresome"

"Can you blame me? After what happened . . .
before?"

"It was four years ago, Eleanor. Four. I've apologized, and .. "He trailed off, raking a hand through his
hair. "Bloody hell, what can I do? Tell me, what can I
possibly do to earn your trust again?"

Eleanor shook her head. "You cannot understand; it's
useless."

"Rather than running out the door in a pique, why
don't you attempt to explain it to me, then. Yes, four
years ago I misused your trust. Terribly," he added,
seeing the way her eyes began to flash in the candlelight. "But we are adults now, and I believe you know
me better than anyone save my sisters. I'd presumed to
call you a friend, at a time when I was much in need of
one. I've answered each and every charge you've leveled at me about my past with what I thought to be blunt
truths. And still you cannot trust me?"

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she turned away from
him.

"You've no idea-"

He reached for her arm and turned her back to face
him. "Then tell me, damn it."

"Oh, very well," she cried, shrugging out of his grip.
"While that kiss fours years ago meant nothing to you,
I've not been able to forget it, not in all this time. All
these years, as I listened to the gossip surrounding you,
even as I asked my father to choose a husband for mea sensible husband-I dreamt of you. I longed for you"

She began to pace a circuit before the hearth, refusing
to meet his gaze as she continued on. "I didn't dare confess my feelings to anyone. Even Selina thought it nothing but a girlish infatuation, ended the day I overheard you laughing about me with your friends. But, damn
you, it didn't end that day, nor the next. Four long years
of pretending I didn't care a whit that you were rumored
to keep several mistresses at once, to seduce other men's
wives, to entertain widows in your bed. Have you any
idea how I've suffered? How I've hated myself for such
weakness? How I've pretended it wasn't so, that I'm not
a silly cow, pining after a man who hadn't given me a
moment's notice? Who thought me nothing but a horse
of a girl?"

Good God. He didn't know what to say. All these
years, she'd hated herself-for pining after him? All
these years she'd suffered, because of him. Damn it to
hell, but everything he touched turned to rot, poisoned
by his very presence. He had not been worth a second
glance from her, a second thought. Still, he'd brought
her pain-and she still hurt, if the look on her face was
any indication. She would never trust him, never believe
him to be anything other than what he was, a careless,
callous roue. Whatever had he been thinking, that he
could allow himself to love Eleanor?

"I ... I had no idea," he sputtered. "You must forgive
me, Eleanor." He swallowed hard, unable to say anything more on the subject. He reached up to rub his
aching throat, suddenly feeling as if he were suffocating. Dear God, but he needed to get out of this place,
and fast. He couldn't bear it, couldn't bear to remain another moment in her presence, knowing what he'd done.
What he'd almost done. Thank the devil she'd preempted his seduction when she had or he'd have no
doubt caused her further grief, beyond what he'd already inflicted.

He turned to face her, still standing beside the hearth,
her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, her cheeks stained an angry red. "I'll see you back safely. Just let
me extinguish the fire and we'll be on our way."

And tomorrow he'd be on his way, back to Plymouth
and his search for Eckford. No more of this madness.
No more.

"Will Mister Stoneham be dining with you this morning?" the butler asked, and Eleanor forced her expression to remain blank as she reached for her coffee.

"No, I'm afraid not," Henley answered, rising from
his seat and placing his napkin on the table. "He set off
at dawn, and I'm to join him in Plymouth. Don't know
why he was in such a dashed hurry," he added under his
breath.

Oh, but Eleanor knew precisely why. Her cheeks
stung with the memory.

"Eleanor, dearest, you look flushed," Selina said, her
brow furrowed with concern. "Are you unwell?"

Were her feelings so very transparent? How close
she'd come to giving up her most prized asset-her
virtue-the night before. How natural it had seemed,
even after a lifetime of treasuring it, keeping it safely
guarded. Never would she have thought it possible to
throw caution to the wind as she had done, so carelessly,
so recklessly. Still, she'd overreacted, hadn't she? After
stealing back to her bedchamber and slipping between
the sheets, she'd lain awake for hours on end, going over and over each tantalizing moment she'd spent in the
cottage with Frederick.

He had been truthful, she'd concluded at last. His seduction had been more than an attempt to win a wager;
she was certain of it now. She had accused him falsely,
and she felt badly for it. She would have told him so
today had he not left before she'd had the opportunity.
For the first time in their renewed acquaintance, she actually entertained the thought that perhaps there was
more to Frederick Stoneham than his reputation would
lead one to believe.

Still, she couldn't help but remember the look of
horror etched into his features when she'd confessed
that she'd pined for him all these years. He had all but
run from the cottage as fast as he could after that, hadn't
he? Oh, to be so silly, so weak and foolish, to love a
scoundrel like Frederick Stoneham!

Love? She shuddered at the word. No, she did not
love him, did she? Could she? Dear God, whatever
would she do if she did?

"Eleanor, did you hear me?" Selina tapped her on the
wrist, her voice rising in alarm. "Eleanor?"

Eleanor quickly gathered her wits. "Pray, forgive me.
I fear I did not sleep well last night"

"You must go lie down at once, then. George has
planned some entertainment for us this afternoon, and
you must be well rested in time for our guests"

"Guests?" Eleanor had heard nothing of guests.

"Yes," Henley answered. "The Duke and Duchess of
Dandridge, and their son Lord Trelawny."